Ten Thousand Years in Seclusion
Chapter 18: Tales at the Teahouse

Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Tales at the Teahouse

Qi Tian stepped out of the Yuelai Inn in unusually high spirits. What had begun as a mishap had ended with an unexpected windfall—an extra one hundred and sixteen low-grade spirit stones. It was hard not to feel pleased.

Rather than heading straight for Qinglu Mountain, he wandered unhurriedly along the market street.

Morning was the busiest time of day. Stalls lined both sides of the road, their vendors calling out one after another. Some sold low-grade talismans and crude spirit artifacts. Others displayed mountain herbs, medicinal plants, spirit grains, and assorted produce. Food stalls crowded the corners as well, offering sweet rice cakes, steamed buns, and steaming bowls of soup. White clouds of vapor billowed from great iron cauldrons, wrapping the lively street in comforting warmth.

Qi Tian stopped at one of the food stalls and ordered a basket of spirit rice cakes and a bowl of demon beast bone broth.

The rice cakes were smooth and white as jade, lightly sweet with every bite. The broth had been simmered until rich and milky. As the hot soup slid down his throat, warmth spread outward from his dantian, and strength slowly returned to his weary body.

He had not gone much farther when the sound of a guqin drifted through the window of a nearby teahouse.

Qi Tian stopped and looked up.

On the signboard were three characters:

Tingfeng Teahouse.

Just then, three or four men in blue robes hurried past him, talking loudly as they made for the entrance.

"I heard the old storyteller from out of town brought his daughter with him. They say she’s an exceptional guqin player."

"Hope there are still seats left!"

Their pace quickened, and they disappeared into the teahouse.

Qi Tian’s gaze lingered for a moment.

The scene stirred an old memory.

Long ago, whenever he brought his junior brothers and sisters into the city, they had always insisted on stopping at teahouses to listen to storytellers. Every time they passed one, they simply refused to leave.

The thought left a faint trace of melancholy in his heart.

A moment later, he stepped inside as well.

The second floor was already packed. Tea smoke drifted lazily through the hall.

At the center sat an elderly storyteller with snow-white hair behind a wooden table, striking his storyteller’s block as he recounted tales of cultivators locked in fierce battles.

Beside him stood a girl of fifteen or sixteen. Dressed in plain clothes with a simple hairpin, she cradled a seven-string guqin in her arms. Her features were delicate, though a hint of timidity lingered between her brows.

Whenever the storyteller paused between passages, her slender fingers brushed lightly across the strings. Clear, graceful notes flowed through the teahouse, weaving naturally into the rhythm of his tale.

Qi Tian swept his gaze across the teahouse.

Every seat was occupied. Only a single table remained empty in the far corner.

He walked over, took a seat, and called out,

"Waiter. A pot of your finest tea."

The tea arrived before long.

Qi Tian took a slow sip. The tea was mellow and refreshing, washing cleanly down his throat. Only then did he turn his full attention toward the storyteller.

The white-haired elder struck his storyteller’s block with a sharp crack.

"Now then! The prodigy of the Xuanyang Sect had only just crossed into the territory of the Cangming Kingdom..."

The Cangming Kingdom?

Qi Tian’s brows drew together almost imperceptibly.

Ten thousand years ago, the Dayan Empire had already united the lands under heaven. Apart from the transcendent Tianyan Sacred Domain at the continent’s center, every other realm had belonged to Dayan.

Where had this Cangming Kingdom come from?

It seemed that over ten thousand years, the Tianyan Continent had truly changed beyond recognition.

Before the thought had fully settled, the story had already reached its climax.

The storyteller’s voice suddenly rang through the hall.

"But who could have foreseen it? Halfway through his journey, the prodigy walked straight into an ambush! Two Foundation Establishment Great Perfection cultivators appeared at the same time. Blades flashed. Swords sang. A deadly battle was about to begin!"

At those words, the girl moved.

Her fingers swept sharply across the strings of the guqin.

Zheng!

The music burst forth like a sudden cloudburst striking the windows.

One rapid note chased another, bright as clashing steel.

Then—

A single thunderous chord crashed through the teahouse like a bolt from the heavens, only to sink into a low, restrained murmur the next instant, as though a deadly blade had slipped back into its sheath.

The melody surged and receded, every rise and fall painting the desperate peril of a battle balanced on the edge between life and death.

The entire teahouse fell silent.

Every guest sat motionless, eyes fixed upon the stage, scarcely daring to breathe.

Only the resonant music of the guqin echoed through the hall, and every heart seemed to rise and fall with its rhythm, wound so tight that no one could catch a full breath.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded from the staircase.

Three people ascended the steps.

Leading the way were two young men dressed in fine silk robes. Their bearing was arrogant and self-important. Behind them followed an old servant with a slightly hunched back, his hands lowered and his brows drawn in quiet submission.

Yet despite his unimpressive appearance, his every step was steady and composed.

Qi Tian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

His divine sense swept outward.

Naturally, he paid no attention to the two wealthy young masters.

They were merely at the sixth level of Qi Refining—nothing more than empty displays of wealth and status.

The one who truly caught his attention was the inconspicuous old servant behind them.

Late-stage Foundation Establishment.

The two young men swept their gazes across the teahouse with utter disdain, treating everyone present as if they were invisible. They walked straight to the finest table directly before the storyteller.

The old servant followed silently behind.

One of the young men looked at the three guests seated there and spoke only one word:

"Leave."

The three tea guests’ expressions changed instantly.

They hurriedly stood up.

"Young Master Zhao, Young Master Lin, please take the seats!"

They gathered their cups and belongings in a fluster and retreated without a word of protest.

Not one of them dared show the slightest displeasure.

Even the waiter immediately hurried over, wiping the table and chairs with an eager smile, attending to every detail.

The commotion caused the entire teahouse to fall silent.

The old storyteller had no choice but to put away his storyteller’s block. The young girl beside him also stopped playing the guqin, waiting quietly for the two honored guests to sit down.

The two young men sat with their chins raised.

The old servant stood behind Young Master Zhao—the one who had ordered the others away.

Then, beneath his lowered eyelids, his gaze suddenly lifted.

Across the crowded hall, his eyes met Qi Tian’s.

Qi Tian had already concealed his aura and hidden his cultivation.

For cultivators below his realm, such concealment was naturally impossible to see through.

But the old servant and Qi Tian were both at the late stage of Foundation Establishment.

When the currents of their spiritual presence brushed against each other, even the finest concealment could not completely escape the notice of an expert.

However, Qi Tian cultivated the Essence-Returning True Origin Scripture.

His foundation was incomparably profound, his aura returned to its natural state, blending perfectly with the world around him.

He was certain that the old servant could only determine one thing—

That he was a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

There was no way the old man could discern his exact cultivation level, much less see his true strength.

Before the two young masters had even asked for tea, the waiter had already hurried over with the finest fragrant tea in the house, along with peanuts and delicate pastries, arranging everything neatly before them.

Young Master Zhao glanced at the storyteller, raised a brow, and spoke with a hint of impatience and disdain in his voice:

"Continue. What are you standing there waiting for?"

The old storyteller immediately bowed and answered:

"Yes, yes. Young Master!"

He struck his storyteller’s block once more and raised his voice, continuing with vivid enthusiasm:

"Now, the prodigy found himself surrounded by enemies on all sides. Yet he remained calm and unshaken. With a single shout—’Sword, come!’

"In that very moment, countless rays of light burst forth from the heavens above, and a thousand swords tore through the sky! The mountains trembled, the earth shook—"

The moment those words left his mouth, the entire teahouse erupted in surprise.

Young Master Zhao suddenly burst into laughter. Turning to Young Master Lin beside him, he said:

"This old man really knows how to exaggerate."

Young Master Lin nodded repeatedly in agreement.

"Brother Zhao is right. That tale is utterly ridiculous. It’s amusing enough to listen to, but nothing more."

The old storyteller’s expression stiffened.

The words caught in his throat, leaving the atmosphere awkward and uncomfortable.

At his side, the young girl hurriedly brushed her fingers across the guqin strings.

A gentle, soothing melody flowed softly through the hall, calm and graceful, slowly easing away the embarrassment that had settled over the room.

Sitting alone in the corner, Qi Tian frowned slightly. With such a disturbance, it seems I won’t be able to enjoy the tale in peace.