Chapter 184
In the entire cultivation world, the divine sense of a Spiritual Realm Immortal Master ranked second to none. Nothing in the area covered by his awareness could escape him—every whisper of wind or ripple of energy would be laid bare.
And when such immense divine sense was focused on a single target, every hidden detail, every masked truth, would be magnified and transmitted with perfect clarity to the Immortal Master’s perception.
—He’d once used this very technique to unearth a deeply hidden demonic spy, exposing and capturing the traitor.
Now, he was applying it to the roujiamo vendor.
There was something wrong here. There had to be. There was no way Pavilion Lords Lie Feng and Dan Ling would actually fight over food.
Mu Jue closed his eyes, gathering the full force of his divine sense to cover the young man—searching for signs of disguised power, forged spiritual roots, or a concealed true identity…
The steward beside him waited expectantly. He knew the Immortal Master was using divine sense—surely the truth would soon be revealed.
As expected of a sect master! As expected of the leader of the immortal world!
*
Moments later.
Mu Jue still had his eyes closed. His expression was solemn—almost like he was facing a life-or-death battle. And then, he muttered under his breath:
“…This roujiamo… smells divine.”
Steward: ???
A bead of sweat rolled down Mu Jue’s temple. His brows were tightly knit, and his eyes remained shut as if enduring a great trial. In a deep, magnetic voice, he mumbled bits of speech:
“This spiritual root… so crispy on the outside… no, no, this roujiamo must be hiding its true cultivation, pretending to be weak…”
“No… no, this youth’s sword heart and sword bones must have been braised in old master stock…”
It was like he was sleep-talking. His words were totally incoherent—like someone being mentally corrupted.
Steward: ?????
Immortal Master, what in the heavens are you saying?!
And then—the most shocking thing happened.
Mu Jue suddenly staggered back, as though he’d been struck in mid-air by an invisible force. His divine sense was forcibly pulled back in its entirety.
His eyes snapped open, bloodshot and wild. His hair was disheveled, his breathing ragged, and there was even a faint trace of possibility—a sign—of deviation in his cultivation!
He clenched his teeth and growled:
“Damn it… even I nearly fell for it!”
Just now, when his divine sense reached toward the young man selling roujiamo, he tried to focus it with full concentration.
But—he couldn’t.
Yes—literally couldn’t focus.
Every time his divine sense approached the young man, his attention would somehow be irresistibly diverted—to the roujiamo in the youth’s hand.
And what a roujiamo it was.
The layered texture of the roujiamo’s exterior, gently steaming with heat, looked so crisp it would crackle at a touch. One could imagine splitting it open to reveal the soft, fluffy interior, glistening with rich, fragrant gravy. Inside was a generous heap of braised meat—so stuffed it was practically bursting, the glistening reddish chunks trembling slightly, releasing waves of savory aroma…
Mu Jue had abstained from food for countless years. He had long surpassed earthly cravings—mortal food should have disgusted him.
Just moments ago, even while standing before the Jade Hidden Hall, he had been completely unaffected by the scent that had driven so many others mad with hunger. He had scoffed at their lack of discipline.
But when his divine sense locked in—
That one, steaming, aromatic roujiamo stirred ripples in the ocean of his long-dead heart.
If even just the physical aroma of the roujiamo could make people drool and throw hands over it… then what kind of existence was this roujiamo?
—Inside divine sense, all sensory input—smell, sight, taste—is magnified countless times. With every sense heightened to the extreme, Mu Jue suddenly experienced the full, high-definition aroma of that roujiamo.
How the hell was he supposed to resist that?!
Every aspect—the crisp exterior of the roujiamo, the rich yet not greasy meat, the intensely savory juice—was amplified tens of thousands of times and poured directly into Mu Jue’s brain!
He wanted… to eat it.
“Pfft…”
As an internal battle raged within his mind, a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of the Immortal Master’s lips.
The steward panicked.
What in the world had the Immortal Master seen in his divine sense that nearly pushed someone of such peerless cultivation into deviation?!
He rushed forward to help support Mu Jue. “Immortal Master! Could that trial participant be from the demonic sect? Should we dispatch guards immediately to remove him and his food stall?”
Mu Jue fell silent.
After a long pause, he turned and looked at the steward with a gaze that could only be described as utter disbelief, like he was staring at an idiot.
“If you drive him away… what am I supposed to eat?”
Steward: “…Ah?”
Never mind then.
*
Thus, the Spiritual Realm Immortal Master Mu Jue… lined up at a food stall.
He didn’t want to queue.
He was the head of a sect. The master of the Immortal Order. Wherever he went, people treated him like a god. Queue with trial participants? Absurd.
Naturally, he walked past the crowd and headed toward the front.
But just two steps in, he was blocked.
A girl in a pale apricot dress stood in his path, frowning. “Uncle, I get it—you’re hungry. But you can’t just cut in line!”
Mu Jue blinked, question marks forming above his head.
His face stiffened. After a moment, rather awkwardly, he pulled out his Immortal Master token.
“I am Mu Jue. The Spiritual Realm Immortal Master.”
Girl: “?!”
Her expression flipped from irritation to giddy excitement. She pulled a scroll from her sleeve.
“I’m your fan! Please sign this!”
Only then did Mu Jue visibly relax. There we go.
After signing her scroll, he asked, with forced patience, “So… can I go ahead now?”
The girl’s smile vanished. Her expression hardened again. “Why should you? Sure, you’re powerful—but that doesn’t mean you get to cut in line!”
People around them chimed in:
“Take your power elsewhere. Right now, we’re all just hungry customers. Even if the Heavenly Dao himself showed up, he’d still need to queue.”
“Yup. Equality starts with the roujiamo line.”
“If everyone cuts—first the Immortal Master, then the Pavilion Lords, then who knows who else—how are we ever going to get our food?”
“Exactly! What if the roujiamo run out before our turn? Who do we complain to then?”
Just moments ago, these trial participants had been total strangers. Now, united by a shared desire for a warm, meaty roujiamo, they banded together to uphold order—because only this way could everyone eat efficiently.
And so, after a few failed attempts, Mu Jue was stunned to discover…
His Immortal Master status didn’t work here.
Before a humble roujiamo stall, in the rigidly hierarchical cultivation world—
everyone… was equal.
In the end, Mu Jue had no choice but to line up at the very back, thoroughly humiliated.
Fortunately, the line moved fast.
Jian Yunlan had years of street-vendor experience. Even without a food cart or assistants, he quickly adapted and served roujiamo after roujiamo like a seasoned pro. The rich aroma filled the entire Jade Hidden Hall.
Soon, it was Mu Jue’s turn.
Even while waiting in line, he’d been completely consumed by the thought of that roujiamo. Now, standing face to face with it, so close he could see every crispy ridge—
his heart pounded wildly.
“One roujiamo?” Jian Yunlan asked with a smile.
Mu Jue nodded primly… then hesitated. He shook his head.
After some internal struggle, he held up three fingers.
—He wanted three.
Jian Yunlan: “One per customer.”
Mu Jue: “…” Damn it!
But the moment that warm, fragrant roujiamo was placed in his hand, all complaints evaporated.
Ah, the temperature.
Ah, the aroma!
Holding it carefully, Mu Jue stepped aside, then—barely able to contain himself—lowered his head and took a big bite.
“…” His eyes widened slightly.
Crunch! A crisp crackle sounded as his teeth sank into the golden roujiamo. Instantly, a burst of rich, meaty steam escaped, and the intense aroma of braised pork exploded in his mouth. Juices seeped into the roujiamo’s inner layers, perfectly merging crispy and tender textures, creating a flavor that defied belief.
Without realizing it, Mu Jue began chewing faster.
The roujiamo itself was already divine—but combined with the meat? Transcendent. The balanced fat and lean pork had been slow-braised and finely chopped, tender yet chewy, enhanced by green peppers, releasing a flood of savory juices.
Every bite brought roasted wheat, a hint of smoke, and that unctuous, meaty goodness…
Mu Jue’s cheeks bulged with roujiamo, and as he chewed, he shamelessly slurped the sauce running down his hand.
In no time, the entire roujiamo was gone. Forced to slow down as he reached the last bite, he stared at it in a daze, his expression tinged with longing.
…Many say that taste is the fastest path to memory.
All these years.
After so many years of cultivation—cutting off emotions, severing attachments, focusing solely on the Dao—there had only ever been this one fleeting moment when Mu Jue forgot who he was.
He forgot the world around him.
Forgot the Thousand Peak Spirits Sect, forgot the title of Immortal Master of the Spiritual Realm, forgot the merciless path of the Great Dao…
For just a single, fragile moment, it felt like he was in some distant time long past—
A time when he was just Mu Jue.
A penniless sword cultivator holding a rusty sword, picking up dirty and thankless tasks at the sect just to survive.
Mu Jue, who came home excitedly with a hot roujiamo bought with hard-earned spirit stones.
Mu Jue, who huddled with his mortal partner under a leaky roof, sharing that one roujiamo between them, their threadbare clothes soaked with rain—yet eyes warm and full of affection.
He wasn’t alone back then.
Lost in memories from who-knows-how-long ago, Mu Jue licked the last bit of roujiamo juice off his fingers, dazed and silent.
He could still hear the sound of the rain from back then—the continuous spring drizzle tapping against the eaves. At some point, he could almost see that person’s smile, and the two of them, like kids, making a pinky promise.
What was it again… about betraying someone’s true feelings?
Mu Jue’s thoughts were a blur.
Suddenly, a clear, slightly reluctant voice broke through:
“You have to swallow a thousand needles.”
Jian Yunlan looked at Mu Jue, twitching slightly at the mouth. “Someone asked me to pass on a message to you. Uh… ‘You have to swallow a thousand needles.’”
Mu Jue froze.
His entire being seemed to plunge into a deep sorrow that he couldn’t climb out of.
Meanwhile—
Jian Yunlan: “…”
What kind of middle-school cringey couple drama is this?!
