They greeted Dou Xinshi and Old Tiger Zhao at the table with a polite bow and cupped hands.
It wasn’t formality for formality’s sake.
In the cultivation world, if you were the one seeking a conversation, especially with someone who wasn’t beneath you in standing, it was only respectful to offer proper greetings first.
Even more so when the other party clearly didn’t ask for your time.
And right now?
They were the ones who wanted something.
It didn’t matter if they were emperors or sect masters. In this moment, in this store, they were simply people requesting an audience.
And so they bowed first.
The elders and members of the Shrouded Blade followed right after, respectfully greeting and bowing in turn.
Then they stood there.
Awkwardly.
Like guests at a banquet who arrived too early and didn’t know where to sit.
And in front of them – two men at a table, completely ignoring their presence.
A whole minute passed.
Old Tiger Zhao finally looked up.
He squinted, leaned back, scratched his belly, blinking at the crowd as if they’d materialized out of thin air.
“Oh. You old ones want somethin’?”
His tone was laid-back. Casual. A little too casual for someone addressing the leaders of two major sects and the imperial family.
Not that it mattered.
Even if Old Tiger Zhao did know who they were, he’d still treat them like distant relatives who only show up during holidays to eat and leave.
That’s just the kind of old man he was.
Which, honestly, was wild.
Because despite calling them “old ones,” Old Tiger Zhao looked like the oldest fossil in the room.
Older than any of them, by a good few centuries – at least visually.
But he said it with such calm, natural confidence that no one took offense.
Maybe… maybe that was just how elders talked in his region?
Yes. That must be it. A regional thing. Totally normal.
In truth, not really.
Old Tiger Zhao was just a special case. A body cultivator who didn’t quite read the room, but somehow made it work.
And right beside him –
Dou Xinshi froze.
Slowly, his head turned toward the group.
His brain started buffering.
Wait a second. That robe… that crest…
Those uniforms!
They weren’t just visitors. They were them.
The veterans
Then it clicked.
His eyes went wide.
And with the grace of a panicked chicken, he flung himself off the chair.
“E-Elders!”
He scrambled up, nearly flipping the whole table in the process.
“Welcome b-back to the s-sacred land!”
The group exchanged glances.
Sacred… what now?
Behind the counter, Hao watched it all with a half-smile.
’Here we go again.’
Sect Master Jiang Xianwei stepped forward, his robe swaying lightly behind him.
“I like your attitude, junior.” he said cheerfully, giving Dou Xinshi a solid, friendly slap on the shoulder.
Dou Xinshi stiffened instantly.
Not from fear.
But because his brain short-circuited from happiness.
He had dreamed of this.
No – he had fantasized about this.
Being acknowledged by someone from the original generation. It was like a street food seller getting complimented by the founder of a legendary kitchen sect. Or like a junior cultivator hearing, “You’ve got potential, kid.” from a passing immortal.
His cheeks burned.
He didn’t know whether to bow, salute, or just melt on the spot.
Jiang Xianwei’s smile didn’t fade. He seemed to enjoy the reaction.
“Say, junior, you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
He spoke like he was casually chatting with a friend in a restaurant. No pressure. No weight.
Dou Xinshi was about to nod –
But just as he opened his mouth, another hand landed on his other shoulder.
This one was heavier.
Rougher.
Warmer.
Dou Xinshi blinked, then turned his head – and found himself face-to-face with Old Tiger Zhao, who had silently stood up from his seat.
The old man’s brows were slightly raised.
“Oi. You old ones pushin’ a bit hard, ain’t ya?”
His eyes flicked toward Jiang Xianwei, then the rest of the group.
“We’re havin’ a snack. Talkin’ about salted chips. Then you drop in like like we owe you answers.”
He gestured lazily with his thumb.
“You interrupted, y’know?”
His voice wasn’t raised.
But the way he stood, half-leaning and relaxed, radiated something that made everyone hold their breath.
Jiang Xianwei paused.
Then smiled wide.
“Eyy, I get it, Uncle. Real protective of the kid, huh?”
He folded his arms.
“That your disciple? Nephew? Grandkid?”
He tilted his head with the smugness of someone poking a sleeping beast just to see what happens.
“Nah,” Old Tiger Zhao said flatly. “Just someone I’m talkin’ to.”
“…”
In the corner, Dou Xinshi silently screamed in his mind.
Why you gotta do me like that, old man!? We’ve eaten together! Drank drinks! Didn’t we already bond over noodles!?
But before his soul could leak out from secondhand shame, Old Tiger Zhao scratched his chin and added.
“We bicker. He complains. I ignore half of it. But the kid ain’t bad.”
He shifted his gaze back to the sect masters, his tone still lazy, but the undercurrent was firm.
“Doesn’t sit right watchin’ him get cornered with question like a misbehaving brat. He ain’t someone you get to boss around just ’cause you’re fancier.”
The words landed rough, but not cruel.
It was the kind of blunt respect that didn’t need sugar or ribbons.
Just a man calling it straight.
For a moment, the air thickened. Tension crept through the room the way heat rolls off a blacksmith’s forge.
Dou Xinshi’s eyes went wide. His brain stopped again.
Then his heart?
Started glowing.
He was being… defended?
By Old Tiger Zhao?
The same guy who once told him. “You whine louder than a tiger beast.”
You should’ve said that earlier, old man!
I thought you were gonna throw me to the wolves and call it character growth!
His lips twitched into something between a shocked smile and a silent sob of relief.
Somewhere deep inside, a tiny Dou Xinshi curled up and wept.
So this is what it feels to be appreciated…
And then someone else stepped forward.
Emperor Yunlan Haorang.
“We meant no harm, Elder.” he said gently.
“Forgive us if our approach was abrupt.”
He bowed lightly, not too deep, but enough to show respect.
“How about this – we treat you and your friend to some products before we speak further?”
The word treat floated in the air.
Old Tiger Zhao blinked.
“Treat?”
Pause.
“Products?”
Longer pause.
“…Free?”
