Ten Thousand Years in Seclusion
Chapter 19: I Came Down from the Mountain

Chapter 19: Chapter 19: I Came Down from the Mountain

The old storyteller hesitated for a moment, steadied his emotions, then struck the storyteller’s block again and continued the tale of the thousand swords tearing through the sky.

But the atmosphere in the teahouse had already faded.

Young Master Zhao listened for a while, yawning repeatedly. Then, all of a sudden, he raised a hand.

"Stop."

The old man’s voice cut off instantly. He bent forward, waiting.

Young Master Zhao did not even look at him.

His eyes shifted lazily to the young girl standing beside him.

"Your story is terribly made up. But this girl... her music is actually somewhat interesting."

He raised two fingers and crooked them toward the stage.

"Come here. Pour tea for this young master."

The girl hugged her guqin tightly and looked timidly toward her father.

The old storyteller hurriedly forced a smile.

"Young Master, surely you jest. We are merely storytellers, father and daughter, here to perform. She is not—"

"I said I want her to pour tea."

Young Master Zhao set his teacup heavily on the table.

The entire teahouse fell silent for a moment.

The old man’s smile froze.

In the end, he dared not say another word.

The girl gritted her teeth, set down her guqin, and walked slowly toward the table.

She picked up the teapot with both hands. Her fingers trembled so badly that the spout struck the rim of the cup.

Clink.

Half the tea spilled across the table.

Young Master Zhao laughed.

He did not become angry.

Instead, he reached out and grabbed the wrist that held the teapot.

"Your hand is shaking this badly. Are you afraid of me?"

The girl let out a small cry and tried to pull back, but his grip held her firmly.

"P-Please... let go, Young Master..."

"What is your name?"

With one hand, Zhao lifted her chin and slowly examined her face.

"Following an old storyteller around, enduring the wind and sun outside the city... what a waste."

"Come back to the Zhao residence with me. You will have fine clothes, good food, and everything you need. You can play the qin for me every day. Wouldn’t that be better?"

The girl’s eyes instantly filled with tears.

The old storyteller fell to his knees on the stage with a thud.

"Young Master! Young Master, please! She is only fifteen! Her mother died when she was young... she is still just a child!"

"Old fool, get out of the way."

Lin casually waved his hand.

A surge of spiritual power swept outward.

The old man was thrown backward. His white hair scattered across his face as he crashed into a wooden table.

The storyteller’s block fell from the table and rolled away, tumbling all the way down from the stage.

Not a single person in the teahouse dared to make a sound. The silence was heavy, as if even the air had frozen in place.

From the corner, Qi Tian watched with a frown.

At last, he let out a sigh.

"Why..."

"I really do want to keep a low profile."

Seeing that Zhao was about to take things even further with the girl, Qi Tian finally set down his teacup.

His voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly through the entire teahouse, reaching every ear.

"Stop."

The entire hall fell silent.

Everyone turned at once, their gazes landing on him.

Young Master Zhao’s eyes fixed on Qi Tian like sharp blades.

The young man wore a white robe of fine material. His features were calm and refined, and there was an air about him that set him apart from ordinary people.

As for his cultivation...

The sixth level of Qi Refining.

The same realm as himself.

Zhao released the girl’s wrist.

The girl hurried over to help her father up. The two retreated to the side, not daring to leave completely, only watching Qi Tian from afar.

Their eyes were filled with gratitude.

But beneath that gratitude was a deep sense of worry.

Young Master Zhao looked at Qi Tian coldly, the corner of his mouth curling into a mocking smile.

"So you dare interfere in my affairs?"

He raised his voice slightly.

"I have yet to ask—what might your name be, fellow cultivator?"

Qi Tian had no interest in exchanging pleasantries.

He simply answered in a flat tone:

"Qi Tian."

Young Master Zhao fell silent for a moment.

He ran through the prominent families and cultivation sects in the surrounding region in his mind, yet he could not recall any notable figure with the surname Qi.

Young Master Zhao did not dare to offend him recklessly, so he probed a little further, his tone cautious and testing:

"May I ask where Daoist friend comes from?"

Qi Tian answered without the slightest hesitation:

"From the mountain."

Young Master Zhao froze.

His brows furrowed as he wondered if Qi Tian might be a disciple of some sect who had descended the mountain to gain experience. For a moment, he did not dare to act rashly.

Just as he was hesitating—

Smack!

Lin suddenly slammed his palm onto the table and shot to his feet.

"Are you playing with us?!"

Qi Tian lifted his eyes.

He merely glanced at him.

That gaze was no different from looking at an unreasonable child throwing a tantrum.

In the end, he did not bother to answer.

Seeing that Qi Tian still refused to answer, Young Master Lin grew even angrier.

"Do you know who I am?"

Qi Tian shook his head honestly.

"I don’t."

Young Master Lin’s face turned livid at once.

"Zhenyuan City. The Lin family. Half the shops in this marketplace belong to my family!"

Qi Tian replied calmly,

"Oh? So what?"

"So what?" Young Master Lin roared. "You’ve offended someone you never should have!"

Without another moment’s hesitation, spiritual qi surged from his body as his sixth-level Qi Refining cultivation erupted into full force.

"Stone-Splitting Fist!"

His punch tore through the air with overwhelming force, carrying the power to split stone and crack iron as it drove straight toward Qi Tian’s face.

Qi Tian merely shook his head.

Remaining seated, he neither dodged nor moved.

He simply raised one hand and casually struck out with his palm.

The motion looked effortless.

Yet behind that seemingly casual strike lay a force as vast and immovable as a mountain.

Bang—!

A dull crash echoed through the teahouse.

Young Master Lin felt an irresistible force slam into him. Agonizing pain exploded through his right arm as his blood and qi churned violently.

His body was hurled backward, completely unable to stop its momentum, and crashed heavily into the Eight Immortals table behind him.

Crash—!

The table shattered instantly.

Cups and teaware flew everywhere. Scalding tea, pastries, and peanuts rained over him, while shards of porcelain scattered in all directions.

The surrounding patrons cried out in alarm and hurriedly scrambled out of the way.

In an instant, tables and chairs were overturned, and the teahouse was left in complete disarray.

Entangled in broken wood and shattered porcelain, Young Master Lin rolled across the floor.

His robes were soaked with tea and smeared with pastry crumbs. His face had turned as white as paper from the pain. He struggled several times, yet could not get back to his feet.

Young Master Zhao shot to his feet, his face filled with shock.

Although Young Master Lin’s cultivation was slightly inferior to his own, even he could never have sent him flying with a single palm strike, leaving him unable to rise.

This man was no ordinary cultivator...

A trace of wariness crept into his heart. He did not dare attack rashly, yet neither was he willing to lose face.

In a low voice, he said,

"My surname is Zhao."

Qi Tian gave him a casual glance.

"Don’t tell me the other half of the shops in this marketplace belong to your Zhao family."

Young Master Zhao’s face twitched.

Suppressing the anger rising within him, he said,

"My name is Zhao Bufan. City Lord Zhao... is my uncle."

To his surprise, Qi Tian actually looked genuinely astonished.

Zhao Bufan caught the expression immediately. A smug smile spread across his face as he sneered,

"So you’re afraid now? If you’re afraid, then—"

Before he could finish, Qi Tian interrupted him calmly.

"I’ve heard that City Lord Zhao governs with fairness and has earned the admiration of the people."

He paused, his gaze sweeping indifferently over Zhao Bufan.

"How, then, did he end up with a wastrel like you for a nephew?"

"You—!"

Zhao Bufan’s expression changed dramatically, fury flashing across his face.

Yet the wariness in his heart kept him from stepping forward himself.

He immediately turned to the old servant beside him and barked,

"Elder Xiao! Teach him a lesson!"

At those words, the old servant—Elder Xiao—lifted his eyes.

His gaze was like cold stars and sharpened blades, as piercing as an eagle’s. It locked directly with Qi Tian’s.

Qi Tian gave a bitter smile inwardly.

Late Foundation Establishment.

The real trouble had arrived.