Yellow Skinned Taoist Master

Chapter 148: Where Did This Beggar Come From?

"Ha ha ha — of course not."

The Brass Oil Lamp said without hesitation. "The Headless Yama's body was in the Ghost Gate Yama Hall. I saw it clear as day when we left. How could it have crawled into your shadow?"

"Exactly. My shadow isn't its house."

Chen Huangpi said matter-of-factly. "Besides, the shadow evil spirit was probably just being dramatic."

"Master dotes on me the most. If something were really hiding there, he wouldn't just sit back and do nothing."

"Which means — there's nothing in my shadow."

"And even if there were, I wouldn't be scared."

Hearing this, the Brass Oil Lamp asked in surprise, "Why wouldn't you be scared?"

"Because when you walk straight, your shadow doesn't go crooked."

Chen Huangpi's tone was dead serious. "That's what the books say. I've read a lot of books. They would never lie to me."There were many principles written in books.

Chen Huangpi had loved reading since childhood and had committed a great many of them to memory.

Along the way, he'd discovered that all of them were correct.

After all, Third Master had said it himself.

Reflect upon yourself three times daily — and you'll find that the wrong was always someone else's.

Since everyone else was wrong.

He was most certainly right.

Just then, the Fox Mountain God couldn't help but say, "Chen Huangpi, what kind of books do you even read? The Pure Immortal Temple only has Daoist scriptures, medical texts, and pharmaceutical manuals. Do those even count as books?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

Chen Huangpi said proudly. "From Daoist scriptures I know the Dao and its principles. From medical texts I know pathology. From pharmaceutical manuals I know pharmacology."

"All three have benefited me enormously."

"But I also know that a genius like me cannot be replicated. Those who learn from me live. Those who try to imitate me die."

"Except for my disciples. Everyone else dies."

At this, the Fox Mountain God nearly lost its composure.

Because that saying didn't mean what Chen Huangpi thought it meant.

But just as it was about to argue — to correct this warped interpretation — the Brass Oil Lamp transmitted a secret message. "Stupid dog, you've been at the Pure Immortal Temple for so long and you've learned nothing?"

"He's been raised by the Guanzhu since birth. The Guanzhu has been mad for who knows how many years."

"His way of thinking hardened into bedrock long ago."

"If it could be changed, it would have been changed already."

The Brass Oil Lamp sneered. "Have you ever seen me argue logic with him? If you out-argue him, you're wrong. If you can't out-argue him, you're even more wrong."

"How can it always be me who's wrong?"

The Brass Oil Lamp said, "Because he also has that line about everything being measured by his standard."

The Fox Mountain God was stunned. "Isn't that just bullying?"

"It's reasoning."

"Bullshit reasoning."

The Fox Mountain God said furiously. "Huang Er, you're just terrified of the Guanzhu. But this is the outside world — the Guanzhu can't come out here. What are you afraid of?"

"Chen Huangpi has treated us well."

"The Guanzhu is mad. Beyond saving. But Chen Huangpi is still young. He can't be ruined the same way."

"Bravo! Well said!"

The Brass Oil Lamp exclaimed passionately. "Little fox, you've got guts. I, Huang Er, am no match for you. You should say these things more often in the future — because once we're back in the Hundred Thousand Mountains, you won't get the chance."

"Huang Er — no, Brother Huang — what exactly do you mean by that?"

The Fox Mountain God's eyes darted around.

It had a nagging feeling the Brass Oil Lamp's words had hidden layers.

And something deeply insincere about them.

After all, Huang Er had been gnawed upon by the First Guanzhu until it was covered in tooth marks, squeezed by the Third Guanzhu until it bore permanent grip lines, and corroded by the Second Guanzhu's stomach acid until its surface was full of pits.

If the Brass Oil Lamp claimed to hold no grudges, the Fox Mountain God would never believe it.

And now in the outside world — why hadn't it uttered a single bad word about the Guanzhu?

Surely there wasn't another Guanzhu hiding out here.

Silently watching over Chen Huangpi every moment of every day.

But.

The Brass Oil Lamp didn't answer.

It simply sent the Fox Mountain God a look dripping with schadenfreude, then went silent — leaving the fox drowning in suspicion.

Meanwhile.

At the tavern's front counter.

The proprietor stared at Chen Huangpi — who sat by the window, babbling to himself one moment and talking to a dog the next — and felt deeply conflicted.

Just then, the waiter emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of plain noodles.

"Boss, the noodles are ready."

"Good. Here — take these ten coins too. Get them to the boy. Once he's finished eating, send him on his way before he scares off our customers."

The tavern did brisk business.

Monks and Daoists stopping by for alms was nothing unusual.

The proprietor and waiter had simply taken Chen Huangpi for one of those — and they weren't entirely wrong.

The waiter carried the bowl and coins over to Chen Huangpi.

"Young Daoist, sorry for the wait."

He set the bowl on the table, then discreetly placed the coins down. "A small token of goodwill."

Chen Huangpi was baffled.

He'd just sat down, and people were already giving him money.

Was it really this easy to earn money in the outside world?

He looked at the noodles.

Without thinking, he passed the bowl to the Fox Mountain God.

"Young Daoist — what are you doing?"

The waiter said, startled. "Those noodles are for you. Why are you feeding them to a dog?"

"Oh, they're for me."

Chen Huangpi took the bowl back, downed the noodles in three gulps, then looked expectantly at the waiter.

"Where's the rest?"

"The rest of what?"

The waiter was confused. "You've eaten your noodles and received our goodwill. All that's left is for you to say a blessing and be on your way."

Chen Huangpi said blankly. "What's 'seeking alms'?"

The waiter explained. "It's when a monk or Daoist like yourself comes in, we give you a bowl of plain noodles and a small offering. You eat, you take the money, you say something auspicious — and that's seeking alms."

"So basically — a beggar."

Chen Huangpi said, displeased. "I came here to eat. Not to beg."

"Well..."

The waiter clasped his hands together, helpless. "You walked in, sat down without a word, and just stared. If you were here to eat, why didn't you say something?" "It's his first time in a city. He doesn't know the etiquette."

"Ah — that explains it."

The waiter understood. "So what would you like to order?"

As it happened, the neighboring table was ordering at the same time.

"One stir-fried pork liver."

Chen Huangpi heard this and said, "I'll have the stir-fried pork liver too."

"And a plate of duck wings."

"I'll have the duck wings too."

THWACK. The man at the next table slammed his palm down and turned to glare at Chen Huangpi. "And a braised yellow croaker."

Chen Huangpi also slammed his table. "I'll have the braised yellow croaker too."

The man said irritably. "Young Daoist — are you picking a fight?"

The waiter scrambled. "Please, sir, please — this young Daoist is new to the city. He doesn't know any better. Pay him no mind."

The man snorted. "Fine. I won't lower myself. One boiled beef in chili sauce."

"Yes, yes, of course."

The waiter looked hopefully at Chen Huangpi.

"You'll have one too?"

Chen Huangpi shook his head. "I don't eat beef. But everything else they're having — I'll have the same."

"Coming up!"

The waiter threw his towel over his shoulder and turned to go.

But after a few steps, he froze.

Who had just said this young Daoist was new to the city and didn't know the etiquette?

He looked back.

All he saw was Chen Huangpi, alone — and the bizarre-looking dog at his feet.

It definitely wasn't Chen Huangpi who'd spoken.

Because the voice had been high and reedy. But surely it couldn't have been the dog?

...

Before long.

Chen Huangpi's table was covered with plates of food.

Once he'd eaten his fill.

He stood up and walked toward the door.

But the waiter blocked his path. "Hey, hey — young Daoist, where are you going?"

Chen Huangpi said, puzzled. "I've finished eating. Obviously I'm leaving. What — do you want me to move in?"

"That's not what I mean."

The waiter put on a patient smile. "This is a tavern, sir. If you wanted to lodge, you'd go to an inn. What I'm saying is — shouldn't you settle the bill?"

"What bill?"

"The bill for the food."

"You have to pay for food?"

Chen Huangpi said in astonishment. "Isn't this tavern a place for people to eat? I came in and ate. Why should I pay you money?"

The waiter laughed in disbelief and hollered at the counter. "Boss! This kid's trying to dine and dash!"

"WHAT?!"

The proprietor — a big, burly man — stormed over in a fury.

"I'm not dining and dashing."

Chen Huangpi said angrily. "If you had a sign at the door saying eating costs money, I'd never have come in."

"Here — this is everything I have."

He dumped all his coins on the table.

The proprietor glanced at them. His entire face darkened.

"You ate that much — and setting aside the complimentary side dishes, the chicken, duck, fish, and meat alone come to three silver taels."

"You've got a handful of coppers. Where did you find the nerve to eat here?"

"I..."

Chen Huangpi knew he was in the wrong. Face flushed, he said, "I saw other people walk in and get served food. I thought this was a charity hall. But don't worry — I have a lot of money at the money house. I'll write you a note, and you can go collect it yourself."

"Do you take us for fools?"

The proprietor erupted. "You little pauper — everything on you put together isn't worth as much as this prayer bead strand on my wrist. And you've got money at a money house? The moment you step out that door, you'll bolt."

Chen Huangpi said, "I've read a great many books. In books there are houses of gold. The money house has gold. So naturally, the money house is my house of gold."

"Did reading fry your brain, kid?"

The proprietor slammed the table. "By your logic, the money I have stored at the money house is yours too?"

Chen Huangpi looked confused. "Why did you put your money in my money house?"

"This one's a lost cause."

The waiter grabbed the proprietor's arm. "Boss, don't blow a gasket. The kid's not right in the head. Let me handle it."

He turned to Chen Huangpi. "Where do your parents live?"

"I'm an orphan."

The waiter frowned. An orphan — so there was no going to the parents for payment.

As for lying — the waiter didn't even consider it.

Who would joke about not having parents?

That would make him an unfilial wretch.

"Besides your parents, you really don't have any other family?"

"I have a master. But he's lost his mind."

"Wonderful."

The waiter looked at the proprietor, his face a picture of frustration. "This kid's airtight. Your call, boss."

The proprietor was caught between laughter and rage. He pointed at Chen Huangpi. "I've got it figured out. You didn't come here to eat for free — you came looking for a job."

"Get in the kitchen and wash dishes. Work off your debt."

"Once we're square, you can go wherever you please."

Chen Huangpi thought about it. "How about this — the Song family still owes me a lot of money. I was planning to go collect it anyway. Once I've got the money, I'll come back and pay you. Deal?"

"And if you run off?"

"I won't run. I'll leave the Fox Mountain God here as collateral."

"The fox what now?"

The Fox Mountain God rose languidly to its feet and spoke. "This god. That's who. And you, mortal — watch your tone. Otherwise, this god might just lose its temper."