Chapter 25: Feeding Your Disciple Is Important

The higher peaks of Mount Mystic Cloud were reserved strictly for the sect’s official business, elite elders, and cultivating disciples. But even an immortal sect couldn’t exist entirely on air, morning mist, and solitary meditation.

Cultivators still possessed families, needed mundane craftsmanship, consumed spirit grains, and traded commodities that ordinary mortals produced by the wagonload.

Because of that, a colossal metropolis nestled right against the southern base of Mount Mystic Cloud: Cloudfall City.

It fell entirely under the jurisdiction and protection of the Mystic Cloud Sect. In a brutal world where a stray clash between two Foundation Establishment rogues could level three mortal villages without warning, living beneath the protection of a grand righteous sect was the greatest blessing a mortal could pray for.

As a result, merchants, mortal clans, and retired outer disciples flocked here in droves, turning Cloudfall City into a bustling, prosperous hub of endless stone streets, towering multi-story pavilions, and crowded bazaars.

I guided our widened flying sword downward, landing smoothly in the clearing of an ancient pine grove about half a mile from the city’s main gates.

"From here, we walk," I said, flicking my wrist to shrink the flying sword back to its normal size before returning it to my scabbard. "Flying directly into the city streets stirs up unnecessary attention, and walking lets you experience the world properly."

Shen Qingxue stepped off the blade, smoothing down the folds of the lavender silk robe, her dark eyes taking in the colossal grey stone walls rising in the distance.

We joined the steady stream of travelers, ox-drawn merchant wagons, and caravans heading toward the arched gateway. At the city entrance, two squads of armed mortal guards in iron plate, along with a couple of outer sect disciples with swords across their backs, were inspecting passes and collecting entrance fees.

The moment our boots stepped onto the main ramp, one of the guard captains caught sight of my immaculate white robes and the carved sandalwood token hanging from my waist, the unmistakable emblem of a Mystic Cloud Sect Peak Master.

The captain’s face blanched instantly. He shoved his subordinates aside, dropped to one knee, and lowered his head all the way to the stone paving.

"Greetings, Immortal Elder!" he stammered, his voice trembling with reverent dread. The surrounding guards and merchants quickly followed suit, bowing low in absolute silence.

I didn’t let the grand treatment go to my head. Reaching into my sleeve, I flicked two silver taels toward the wooden toll box on the guard table, the coins landing with a neat, pleasant clink.

"No need for such heavy ceremony," I said with a lazy smile, waving my hand. "A city has its rules. That should cover our entrance fee."

""A-Ah, many thanks, Elder!" the captain squeaked, looking thoroughly terrified that a genuine immortal had actually paid mortal coin instead of slapping him across the street.

The mortal side of the Heavenly Cloud Mountain Range operated on gold, silver, and copper coins. Spirit stones were far too dense with spiritual energy for ordinary mortals to touch without scorching their meridians, not to mention that a single low-grade spirit stone was worth enough mortal silver to buy an entire street of houses. Tossing spirit stones at a street merchant was practically asking to start a riot.

Passing beneath the heavy portcullis, the clamor of a classic, lively xianxia city washed over us.

Wide cobblestone streets stretched outward in every direction, lined with multi-tiered wooden tea pavilions, medicine halls smelling heavily of dried roots, smithies ringing with hammer strikes, and open-air food stalls billowing delicious, savory steam. Wandering rogue cultivators carrying covered blades brushed shoulders with silk-robed mortal merchants, while street peddlers loudly shouted their daily specials.

Shen Qingxue walked slightly behind me, her dark eyes darting from side to side as she took in the colorful chaos with wide, curious fascination. In her old life, her family had kept her strictly inside the military garrison so she had never experienced a prosperous trading city without the looming dread of enemy war horns.

Her stomach let out a faint, traitorous rumble.

She froze mid-step, her cheeks instantly burning crimson as she pressed a hand flat against her stomach, looking thoroughly mortified.

I stopped and looked back at her with a broad, teasing grin. "Hear that? A disciple’s stomach is issuing a direct order to her Master."

"M-Master, I apologize... it’s just..." she stammered, lowering her head in embarrassment.

"Don’t make excuses for being hungry," I chuckled, stepping over and taking her small, delicate hand in mine. "Cultivating iron bones requires real fuel. Come on, let’s go eat something proper."

I led her toward the most renowned establishment on the central avenue: the Hundred Flavors Pavilion.

I secured a quiet private booth on the second-floor terrace overlooking the canal, ordered eight of their signature dishes, and leaned back comfortably against the carved wooden chair.

Within a quarter of an hour, the table was covered in steaming plates, honey-glazed roasted spirit pheasant, braised lotus root with tender pork ribs, steamed river bass garnished with wild ginger, and warm, fluffy white buns.

Qingxue sat with her back straight, looking at the feast with hesitation. "Master... isn’t this too extravagant for ordinary food?"

"You starved in the borderlands for months, Qingxue," I said gently, picking up a set of chopsticks and placing a large, tender slice of glazed pheasant onto her rice bowl. "There’s nothing extravagant about feeding the person you care about. Eat up. If you leave a single scrap behind, I’ll make you do thirty extra horse-stance repetitions tonight."

Hearing my playful threat, a soft, radiant smile broke across her face. She picked up her chopsticks and took her first bite. The tender meat melted on her tongue, releasing rich juices that brought a look of pure bliss to her eyes.

After that first bite, her polite hesitation completely vanished. While she maintained the dignified, graceful posture of a commander’s daughter, she ate with remarkable speed, clearing bowls with the fierce, focused efficiency of a starving young wolf.