Inside The Mistveil Pavilion
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Stepping into the crowded inn, Long Xiao scanned the room with his Divine Eye, observing cultivators from various realms. The atmosphere buzzed with chaotic spiritual energy, rowdy arguments over jars of wine, and the rapid, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the bookkeeper's wooden abacus at the front counter. The air was thick with the rich aroma of roasted meats, aged alcohol, and a faint undertone of medicinal herbs.
As he navigated through the throng, a sharp-dressed young woman, one of the shop attendants, approached him with a practiced, welcoming smile.
"Welcome, esteemed guest," she greeted politely, her eyes sweeping over his ethereal posture. "How may I help you?"
"Yes. I need a room for one," Long Xiao replied smoothly. His eyes darted past her, subtly dodging a frantic waiter who rushed by while balancing three platters of sliced beef and shouting orders to the kitchen.
"Certainly. An Earth-grade room will be prepared shortly." She said with a sweet smile. The shop attendant gestured toward a quieter corner, leading him away from the lively main hall to a secluded table.
"Please, relax and enjoy some tea in the meantime."
The whispers began instantly. Dozens of eyes turned toward Long Xiao. The moment he sat, brushing nonexistent dust from his pristine, heavenly shoulders, a sudden, tense hush fell over the crowded room. The cultivators' murmurs grew louder, their gazes fixed on him with a volatile mix of suspicion and curiosity.
The sweet-faced woman soon returned with a steaming porcelain cup, her smile never faltering despite the heavy atmosphere. He accepted the beverage, his divine senses picking up on its unusual warmth. A flicker of concern crossed his mind, but he internally scoffed.
"I am a god after all. Besides, what harm could possibly come from a simple cup of mortal tea?"
He took a sip, and his lips instantly curled into a frown. The tea was bitter and sour, devoid of the pure spiritual qi he was accustomed to in the Heavenly Realm. It was unlike any celestial delicacy he'd ever tasted. Yet, as the flavor settled, he realized the sourness was just right, earthy, unrefined, grounding him to the mortal soil.
He swallowed with a subtle grimace, already regretting his choice.
Afterward, he followed a bowing waiter up the creaking wooden stairs to his quarters. For mortals, an Earth-grade room was luxurious; for a god, it was cozy only if you were a cave-dwelling hermit. The room was framed in polished dark cedar, its scent faintly of dry straw and cheap sandalwood incense curling from a small bronze burner.
A simple ink-wash landscape painted on a folding screen divided the space, revealing a low wooden table and two stiff floor cushions. Against the wall, a platform bed draped in coarse, dyed cotton quilts sat modestly. Long Xiao sank into a rigid wooden chair, staring blankly at the empty tabletop, overwhelmed by the stark contrast to his destitute hut.
"NOOOO!" Long Xiao suddenly exclaimed, as if struck by a divine realization.
This hit him harder than a nine-fold lightning tribulation. This was the Mortal Realm. A realm where nothing was free and everything came with a price. He glanced at the door where the waiter had just bowed and left, then back to the empty table. Suddenly, a memory flashed—Lei's last clandestine visit to the Mortal Realm.
The bird had claimed he "borrowed" an entire roasted chicken from an old mortal woman's stall, flapping his wings so wildly he toppled the entire stand. The old woman chased him down the dirt road, throwing slippers and shouting: "Damn bird! There's no such thing as free food!"
That wisdom was brutal but true. Enlightening in its honesty.
Speaking of the devil, a rustling sound came from the upper balcony. Lei crawled through the window, casually dusting mortal dirt from his sleeves.
"What's wrong, Master?" the unfaithful bird asked, bypassing the chairs to settle himself comfortably on the cotton bed.
"…I didn't ask for the price." Long Xiao whispered, eyes blankly fixed on the floorboards.
"Being mortal is hard."
Lei lay back on the pillows, completely at ease.
"You brought this on yourself, Master," he teased, tossing a stray grape into his mouth from a nearby fruit plate.
"Besides," Lei said with a shrug, "what's the big deal? We could always leave."
"Leaving is not an option," Long Xiao replied firmly.
An unshakable anxiety gripped him as he unrolled his celestial scrolls, frantically reviewing his divine inventory, desperately wondering which sacred artifact or divine asset he could pawn for a single night's rest.