The elderly monk leading the group lowered his head and closed his eyes, his bony fingers gently rolling the dark brown prayer beads, seemingly oblivious to the table's aroma of meat and wine.
The neighboring table was quite a different scene.
A few Daoists in green robes rested their dusters on their arms, savoring the locally brewed rice wine.
Among them, a long-bearded elder met Deputy Mo's gaze and nodded slightly in greeting.
At the far corner, a few men dressed in common attire stood out conspicuously.
Although they wore ordinary cloth garments, their waists were bulging, and their eyes glinted with keen intelligence. One burly man, whose palms were covered in thick calluses, was leisurely slicing grilled lamb with a dagger, the blade passing swiftly, making the meat slices as thin as cicada wings.
Deputy Mo took a quiet sip of his drink, thinking these diverse "talented individuals" must have come to slay demons and eliminate spirits.
