Martial Cultivator

Ying Prefecture, Rainfront County of Changshi Commandery.

As the sun set in the west and dusk approached, the evening glow stretched across the sky like a vivid red ribbon, crimson as blood.

After the old shopkeeper of that small teahouse had sent off his old friend, he had been alone these past few days. Seeing that it was already dusk, the old man stood up and began to brew tea. When he picked up the tea canister from behind the counter, he could tell just by its weight that there was not much tea left inside.

Thinking of this, the already heavily wrinkled face of the old shopkeeper seemed to gain even more lines, layers upon layers, as if they held countless hardships that could not be spoken of.

He reached into the canister, grabbed a handful of tea leaves, and tossed them into a large iron kettle. After covering it, he sat back down again, as if there was no need to worry about the heat. When the time came, he would naturally have a pot of good tea to drink.

But truth be told, the old man had likely spent his entire life brewing tea. Many things had long since been etched into his life and could no longer be changed.

After an unknown amount of time, the old man opened his eyes, waved his hand to gather a wisp of steam and brought it before his nose to smell. Then he frowned slightly and looked toward the door.

There was no oil lamp lit inside the room, relying only on the faint firelight from the boiling tea, making it rather dim. Outside, a trace of twilight still lingered, but at this moment, it was mostly blocked by a figure.

The old man perked up and said with a cheerful smile, “A rare guest, why have you come again?”