Chapter Forty: Good Deeds

When they had entered, they intentionally dawdled for a while, keeping their eyes locked on a table where the diners were nearly finished, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in once the meat dish was left with only a few scraps. Ignoring the clean, empty tables available, they went straight to that one and began to devour the leftovers.

The same logic applied now. They intended to wait for the people at that table to leave, praying that the diners would walk away without finishing their meal so they could claim the remaining food as their own.

Shortly after, the waiter brought a feast to Xie Peiling’s table, the dishes clattering against the wood one by one as they were set down.

The master and his disciple were overjoyed. Since he had ordered so much, wasn't this a windfall for them?

"Master, he ordered so much—surely he intends to take most of it to go, right? Otherwise, how could a normal person possibly eat all that?"

The old Daoist glared at him and whispered, "Don't say such unlucky things. What if he doesn't?"

The young Daoist watched with longing, feeling a pang of hunger. He whispered, "Master, he can’t possibly eat it all by himself anyway. Why don't we ask if he's willing to share a little with us?"

The old Daoist hesitated, then rubbed his weathered face. He stared fixedly at the waiter and beckoned him over the moment the man turned his head.

"Young man, would you mind asking the young hero at that table if he would be willing to share a little with us..."

The old Daoist’s voice was barely a murmur, his face flushing crimson as he spoke, though the realization that he was already well past his prime made him feel slightly better about the request.

The waiter rolled his eyes. Seeing the destitute, ragged appearance of the two Daoists—especially the old one, who wore an expression of "I'll die if I have to"—the waiter felt a surge of disgust. He knew better than anyone what these two were really like.

However, fearing that the old Daoist might cause a scene, he kept his thoughts to himself, though his disdain grew as he recalled how long the pair had deliberated before ordering their own meager meal.

The surrounding patrons, oblivious to the drama between the master, the disciple, and the waiter, were entirely focused on Xie Peiling.

Xie Peiling was currently lost in the enjoyment of his grand meal, seemingly unaware of the gazes upon him. Just then, the waiter approached and relayed the request of the master and disciple.

Xie Peiling looked toward the two, nodded, and said, "If they don’t mind, tell them to come over and eat."

Xie Peiling smiled.

The waiter was stunned. Anyone with sense could see what kind of people they were. Wondering what was going through the man's mind, the waiter leaned in to offer a warning.

"Young hero, those two are likely nothing more than fake Daoists who beg for food. Even the only meat dish on their table was just leftovers from someone else."

Xie Peiling waved a hand, signaling that there was no need to say more.

"I’ve made up my mind. Since they’ve asked, I’ll treat them to a meal."

The waiter’s mouth hung open. He realized he had completely misjudged the situation; this man might truly be a legendary hero of the jianghu, perhaps someone who had just finished off a criminal wanted by the imperial court. At this thought, his hands trembled, and he bowed in newfound respect.

"Very well! I shall go tell them at once!"

Xie Peiling watched this display, utterly confused. Had the waiter been struck by something? How many times had his attitude shifted since he first walked through the door?

The waiter returned to the master and disciple and said, "The two... Daoist priests, the young hero you mentioned said you may come over to eat. He says he is treating you to a meal."

His tone was harsh, almost aggressive, as if it would be a grave insult to Xie Peiling if they didn't comply.

The elder and younger Daoists were bewildered. What was going on? They had only asked for a little bit; why were they being summoned?

The old Daoist couldn't help but steal a glance at Xie Peiling. Seeing the long sword resting on his chair, he shivered, imagining himself and his disciple being sent to meet their ancestors, one blade each.

Xie Peiling noticed their gaze and, realizing it was the old Daoist, offered a warm, harmonious smile.

The old Daoist forced a stiff, awkward smile in return.

The young Daoist asked, "Should we go over?"

The old Daoist gritted his teeth and said, "Why wouldn't we? He said he’s treating us, didn't he? We’re going! Even if he changes his mind, we’re going!"

With that, the old Daoist pushed the young one to lead the way while he followed behind.

The waiter sneered and ignored them. He turned back, intending to clear the leftovers from their original table, only to find the plates completely licked clean. He rubbed his forehead, feeling a sense of vertigo, and sat down on a chair for a moment to collect himself.

The old Daoist sat opposite Xie Peiling and said with a grin, "Greetings, young hero. We are from the Pingzhen Daoist Temple. I call myself ‘Master True Speech.’ May I ask what business you have with us?"

The young Daoist remained silent, sitting off to the side.

"I am Xie Peiling... no sect, no affiliation. Just a traveler in the jianghu. I simply felt we had a fated connection, so I wanted to invite you to share this lunch."

"Is that true?"

"Naturally, I would not lie."

The old Daoist remained somewhat suspicious, but given the circumstances, he picked up his chopsticks and began shoveling meat into his mouth.

After about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, much of the food on the table had vanished, though compared to the sheer volume ordered, there was still plenty left. Xie Peiling wasn't very hungry, and having eaten similarly for the past few days, his manners were decent, though his capacity for food was still quite shocking.

The master and disciple, however, ate as if they hadn't touched food in days, completely shedding any pretense of otherworldly grace. The surrounding crowd stared in disbelief; it was one thing for the old Daoist to act like this, but why was the young one the same?

Xie Peiling noticed the strange looks from the crowd and joked, "The Daoists are truly transcendent. You eat just like us ordinary folk. Those who have just achieved a little success in their cultivation either abstain from food or eat as daintily as noble ladies. You two are truly exceptional!"

The surrounding patrons gasped inwardly. They realized he had a point—in the stories, the monk Jigong ate in a way even less refined than this, and yet, wasn't he a genuine, divine immortal?

Suddenly, the gazes directed at the pair grew intense and fervent, convinced that this master and disciple were indeed extraordinary.

Hearing this and feeling the naked intensity of the stares—as if the crowd wanted to lock them away in their homes—the two Daoists shivered, sensing a bad omen. The momentum of their gluttony vanished, and they broke into a cold sweat under the scorching attention. Neither dared to drink a drop of water; it was a miracle they didn't choke.

After a while, much of the food had been consumed, and the master and disciple could truly eat no more. They looked at Xie Peiling in astonishment, never having expected someone to be able to eat so much.