Chương 50: Chapter 51: Trouble

At that precise moment, a man in his late twenties, clad in black and gripping a sharp blade, stepped forward from behind the woman. His scabbard struck the corner of the table with a violent clatter, sending a tremor through the cups and saucers. He cast a sideways, mocking glance at Reyn's faded blue scholar's robes, his lips curling into a derisive sneer as if he were staring down a stray dog blocking his path.

"Junior Sister," he said, his voice intentionally loud, projecting across the entire second floor of the tavern.

"Point out which seat you've taken a liking to. In this Drunken Immortal Tavern, no one dares to disrespect the face of the Wang Family." The woman in red let out a soft gasp of delight, her fingertip tentatively pointing toward Reyn's seat by the window.

"Senior Brother Zihan, that spot… the view of the street is quite lovely…"

"Simple enough," Wang Zihan grinned, revealing a row of teeth stained yellow by tobacco. He didn't even look at his junior sister; his gaze remained pinned to the back of Reyn's head like a predator locking onto its prey. He crossed the distance in three strides. Thud! The hilt of his sword slammed onto the tabletop, sending splinters flying. Reyn's wine cup jumped half an inch into the air, and the amber liquid splashed out in a messy arc, soaking half of his sleeve.

"Hey, kid." He didn't even bother with a polite greeting, his boot tip kicking the leg of Reyn's stool.

"I want this spot. I'll give you three breaths of time to take your broken bowl and crawl downstairs to eat. After three breaths—" He flicked his thumb, and the blade slid three inches out of its sheath, the cold steel flashing a pale, deathly light before Reyn's eyes.

"—I'll help you roll down." The second floor fell into a sudden, suffocating silence. Patrons at the surrounding window tables lowered their heads; some even slapped copper coins onto their tables and scurried toward the stairs. The waiter shrank behind the counter, his knuckles white as he gripped a rag. Reyn's chopsticks hovered in mid-air, a slice of braised meat still dripping oil from between them. He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze as calm as a pool of abyssal water.

His vision bypassed the humming blade and settled directly on Wang Zihan's face.

"No." The word was not loud, yet it felt like a heavy stone dropped into a stagnant pond. Wang Zihan's pupils constricted violently, followed by a burst of harsh, grating laughter. He leaned back, shaking with mirth, before his scabbard swept across the table in a brutal arc, flipping the entire spread of dishes! Porcelain shattered and soup sprayed everywhere. The scalding bone broth splashed onto the back of Reyn's hand, instantly searing a red welt into his skin.

"No?" His laughter cut off abruptly, his face twisting into a mask of fury as if he had been slapped in public. The sword cleared its sheath entirely, the icy edge pressing against Reyn's throat.

"Do you have any idea who the hell I am?" He leaned down, his nose nearly touching Reyn's forehead. His breath reeked of stale wine and meat.

"The Wang Family! Wang Zihan! My father is the Golden Core Elder, Wang Lie! Even the owner of this Drunken Immortal Tavern has to kneel and serve me tea. And you, a penniless wretch in rags—" The tip of the sword pressed harder, drawing a thin line of blood on Reyn's neck.

"—you want to talk to me about 'no'?" The woman in red whispered from behind, "Senior Brother, don't…"

"Shut up!" Wang Zihan roared without turning his head, his eyes burning with the rage of being defied. His left hand became a claw, violently seizing Reyn's wrist. He squeezed with such force that the bones emitted an ominous creak.

"I've changed my mind. Not three breaths. Now. Right now. Vanish from my sight. Otherwise—" The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The blade slid slowly down Reyn's neck, hooking into the collar of his blue robe and stopping at his collarbone. He pressed down lightly.

"I'll make sure you never hold a pair of chopsticks again for the rest of your life." The bustle of the street outside seemed muffled by an invisible barrier. The breath of everyone on the second floor hitched. Some closed their eyes, while others crept toward the exit. The cold light of the sword reflected in Reyn's pupils like two ghostly, frigid flames. Reyn looked down at the hand pinning his wrist.

The back of that hand was marked with a red burn, and his knuckles were turning white from the lack of blood flow. Suddenly, he smiled.

"The Wang Family?" his voice was so soft it sounded like he was talking to himself.

"Never heard of them." Wang Zihan's face instantly turned the color of pig's liver.

"You're looking for death—!"

"Heh! This fellow is quite interesting. To boast so grandly in front of a woman only to have his face tossed back at him—and yet he still hasn't left? Doesn't he find it embarrassing to just stand there?" A light chuckle drifted through the room. Though the voice wasn't loud, it was clear enough for everyone to hear.

"Who? Who's talking behind my back!" Wang Zihan's face flushed a deeper crimson. His somewhat handsome features were now hideously distorted as his murderous gaze swept toward the source of the voice. The speaker was a youth of seventeen or eighteen, dressed in fine silk and holding a white folding fan. His face was as fair as jade, and with the slight, wicked smile playing on his lips, he looked every bit the elegant young master of a decadent world.

However, his features were almost too delicate; had he been dressed in women's clothing, he would surely have been a peerless beauty.

"What? Just because someone won't give you their seat, you intend to use force to rob them? The facts are right here; are people not allowed to speak of them?" The youth snapped his fan open with a clack, shaking his head like a pedantic scholar. Wang Zihan's expression darkened further. He turned back to stare deathly at Reyn, his voice low and menacing.

"Kid, I'm offering fifty taels of silver. I've shown enough sincerity. I suggest you give us the seat. Otherwise, bandits and horse thieves often appear near this town. One might see blood even in broad daylight." This was a naked threat. Even the wealthy patrons remaining on the floor paled at his words. Reyn looked up, giving the man a flat stare. Two words left his mouth with iron-clad finality: "No deal."

"Haha! Good! Brother, you truly are a man of character. Neither riches can corrupt nor power can bend you. A fascinating individual indeed! I wonder if you'd care to join me for a drink?" The handsome youth tapped his fan against his palm, laughing with an air of unbridled elegance. Reyn glanced at him, a strange light flickering briefly in his eyes, before he slowly shook his head.

"I'm not drinking." The youth wasn't offended. He chuckled, "No matter, no matter." Watching the two of them chat as if he didn't exist, Wang Zihan stood frozen in awkward silence, his eyes flashing with lethal intent.

"Hmph! Get back here." At that moment, a majestic, authoritative voice echoed from the stairwell. A group of over a dozen people ascended the stairs, led by an elder in ornate robes. His face was ruddy, his hair snow-white, and he carried an innate aura of command that only comes from long years in a high position.

"Yes, Master." Upon seeing the elder, Wang Zihan's arrogance vanished instantly. He shot a venomous look at Reyn and the youth before quickly retreating behind the old man.

"Greetings, everyone. My disciple is young and impetuous, prone to grandstanding. Please forgive any disrespect he may have shown," the elder said, cupping his hands in a polite gesture to the room. He then turned to the fawning waiter.

"Arrange five superior guest rooms in the rear courtyard for us. Bring our meals directly to the rooms."

"Right away, honored guest! Please wait a moment." Under the waiter's lead, the elder's party headed back downstairs. However, before leaving, Wang Zihan turned back one last time, his eyes filled with a poisonous, lingering resentment. Reyn offered a faint smile, completely unbothered. With his current cultivation, which was comparable to an Early Foundation Establishment cultivator, he naturally wouldn't take a mere mortal to heart.

Cultivators generally cared little for the pleasures of the palate, and after this disturbance, Reyn's appetite had largely vanished. Shortly after, he settled his bill and followed a waiter toward the rear courtyard. Behind him, the handsome youth's lips curled into a slight smirk. He watched Reyn's retreating back, his eyes gleaming with a touch of curiosity.