Chapter 32 (Part 2)

An Ning seemed to have been calmed, her demeanor back to normal and free from her earlier despair. However, Shanshui appeared distracted, deliberately keeping a distance from Xiang Feng when she had always been at his side before.

Following Hengwu Immortal Sovereign, the group made their way forward. Without his cane-sword and with his leg still punctured by Rong Shang’s ice shard, the immortal sovereign walked painfully slowly, testing the patience of those trailing behind.

Having just lost his beloved sword, Xiang Feng grew increasingly irritable at everything he saw. Unable to hold back, he sneered, “Judging by the immortal sovereign’s gait, it’s hard to believe he once held the title of Celestial Guardian.”

His words were a blatant jab, pouring salt on Hengwu Immortal Sovereign’s wounds. Once a figure of great renown, now reduced to hobbling—a truth that made the comment sting even more.

Hengwu Immortal Sovereign paused briefly but didn’t retaliate. Instead, he maintained a gentle smile. “You’re absolutely right. After all, I’m no longer the Celestial Guardian of the Heavenly Realm.”

Xiang Feng had been itching for a fight, but his sharp words seemed to hit soft cotton, eliciting no reaction at all.

Before Hengwu Immortal Sovereign could take another step, a small, jade-like hand extended before him.

Startled, he looked up to see a young girl in a soft peach-colored dress.

Shanshui held a makeshift bamboo cane in her hand, the product of her knack for crafting small items. Seeing Hengwu Immortal Sovereign struggling earlier, she had quickly fashioned it for him.

When he didn’t take it, she pressed the cane into his hand. “If this isn’t suitable, I’ll make you another one later.”

The immortal sovereign lowered his white-veiled eyes to the green bamboo cane in his hand, which still carried a trace of her warmth.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and he said softly, “How considerate of you, young lady.”

Shanshui smiled at him and said nothing more.

Xiang Feng, watching her smile, felt as though his heart had been twisted into knots. Shanshui rarely gave her attention to anyone else because, in her eyes, there had always been only him.

He scowled, glaring at Hengwu Immortal Sovereign, a man he now disliked even more. The immortal sovereign’s smooth charm only convinced Xiang Feng further that he harbored ill intentions toward Shanshui.

With the cane, Hengwu Immortal Sovereign walked faster. Before long, they arrived at a wide, open field.

The field, about half the size of a soccer field, was surrounded by peach blossoms in full bloom. A gentle breeze carried petals down in a shower of pink, creating a breathtaking scene.

In the center of the field were countless long, rectangular tables. Villagers bustled about, setting dishes and wearing warm, honest smiles. The sight reminded Yu Zhengzheng of attending wedding banquets in the countryside with her parents when she was young.

She felt a pang of nostalgia. Back then, the world had not yet fallen into ruin. Her parents were still alive. She was just an ordinary schoolgirl.

Their group was seated at one of the tables. The villagers, eager to please their guests, stopped what they were doing to warmly greet them.

A man in a coarse white shirt with a goat-like beard approached, carrying a pot of wine. His face was kind as he smiled and said, “I’m the village chief of Peach Blossom Village. Today, we’re hosting our Hundred-Family Banquet. When I heard we had esteemed guests from afar, I sent someone to invite you personally.”

After introducing himself, the village chief scanned the group and finally fixed his gaze on Rong Shang. “You look familiar, like my brother who left home more than ten years ago.”

Rong Shang raised an eyebrow and slowly let out a single syllable, “Oh?”

The chief lifted his wine cup, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I failed my brother. There are so many things I wanted to say to him, but I fear I’ll never have the chance now.”

“If the esteemed guest doesn’t mind, would you drink with me? It would be a small comfort to my regrets.”

Rong Shang looked lazily at the clear wine in the cup, his expression indifferent.

If this was just a petty trick involving drugged wine, how tiresome.

He raised his distinctly jointed hand, the thin knuckles slightly bent, lightly tapping the jade porcelain wine cup before bringing it to his lips to sniff.

Rong Shang’s lips curved in a smile, but the ice in his gaze remained unmelting. “Excellent wine.”

Indeed, it was fine wine—top-grade Autumn Dew White.

Autumn Dew White is made by placing vessels on grassy fields during autumn mornings to collect dew dripping from leaves and branches. This dew is then crafted through intricate processes into a clear, sweet, and mellow wine, rare and precious.

The village chief’s smile was sincere, and the wine was undoubtedly exquisite. Why wouldn’t he drink it?

Rong Shang raised his arm slightly, bringing the wine cup closer to his lips.

Before it touched his lips, a slender, fair hand pressed down on his arm. He narrowed his long eyes, lazily lifting his eyelids.

Yu Zhengzheng bit her lip and firmly pushed his arm back to the wooden table. “You can’t drink. Did you forget what happened last time? You broke out in a rash after drinking.”

She hadn’t intended to meddle, but everything about this situation felt off.

Although she had never attended a “Hundred-Family Feast” before, she’d heard about the customs. Usually, before the feast, guests are served a bowl of oil tea.

She had spotted oil tea on a nearby table. Its presence confirmed the feast adhered to tradition.

If the villagers were genuinely hospitable, why hadn’t they brought the oil tea to their table when they were seated?

As for the custom of toasting, typically, it was the local women offering low-alcohol glutinous rice wine to the men.

Why then would the village chief—a grown man—be the one offering a toast, especially while mentioning the uncanny resemblance between Rong Shang and his estranged brother? How rude and abrupt.

This wine was definitely suspicious.

Rong Shang had saved her once in Shayu Valley and again earlier in the bamboo house. If she stood by idly now, knowing the wine was likely problematic, how could she let him drink it?

Yu Zhengzheng’s fingers, gripping his sleeve, turned pale from the pressure.

Cold sweat trickled down her back, but she forced herself to remain calm. “If you break out in hives again, you’ll be crying about how itchy it is. Better not drink it.”

The village chief hesitated. “And who might this be?”

Yu Zhengzheng was about to bluff with “godfather” as an explanation when Rong Shang chuckled, his lips curling. “My wife is very strict. It seems I can’t drink this cup.”

Yu Zhengzheng: “…” Who’s your wife? Why not just call me your underwear while you’re at it?!

The village chief chuckled knowingly. “I understand. My wife is the same way.”

He didn’t push further, offering a few polite words instead: “Please enjoy yourselves. If there’s anything lacking in our hospitality, I hope you won’t hold it against us.”

With that, he carried his wine jug to another table.

The villagers, who had been observing them moments ago, returned to their tasks. Their table, set a bit farther away, was soon piled high with dishes by the enthusiastic villagers.

Not long after, the villagers finished their work and began to take their seats. After a bowl of oil tea was passed around, the Hundred-Family Feast officially began.

Initially, everyone assumed they would stick to their own tables. But the villagers quickly started roaming around with their plates, taking dishes from various tables.

Even their table, untouched by the group, had a few bites pinched away by the wandering villagers.

Yu Zhengzheng stared at the table laden with meats and fish, swallowing two mouthfuls of saliva. She hadn’t eaten all day yesterday and now felt as light as a feather from hunger.

Despite the temptation, she hesitated to pick up her chopsticks.

She turned to Hengwu Immortal Lord. “Why aren’t you eating, Immortal Lord?”

He smiled, picking up a piece of braised pork trotter from a plate. He bit into it in front of her. “Cautious, aren’t you? Are you afraid the food is poisoned?”

He chewed and made a show of swallowing. “Relax. It’s not poisoned.”

The others, despite their cultivation that negated hunger, were visibly exhausted. Xiao Yuqing still maintained his gentlemanly demeanor, but Yu Jiangjiang had reached her limit.

After a night wracked with pain and the morning spent witnessing the intense battle, she had long run out of energy. Seeing the others begin to eat, An Ning hesitated briefly before taking a few bites herself.

As a puppet, she didn’t need sustenance. Her body was already that of the dead, and even in this illusion, she didn’t revert to being alive.

Everyone began to eat, even Rong Shang, who casually took a few bites. The only exception was Shanshui, who didn’t touch her food.

Hengwu Immortal Lord noticed. “Why aren’t you eating? Does it not suit your taste?”

Shanshui shook her head. “I’m not hungry. I don’t feel like eating.”

Hengwu Immortal Lord smiled faintly. “That’s good. If you eat this food, you’ll be stuck in the first level of this illusion forever.”

Yu Zhengzheng froze mid-bite, her movements stiff as she turned to look at him. “Didn’t you eat too?”

Hengwu Immortal Lord nodded slightly, spitting out the meat from the pork trotter. “Not anymore.”