stonecrandall Page 142
Page 142
She was defiled by the same man, in the most brutal, direct, and irrefutable way, with his semen full of conquest and possession.
However, just when she was feeling utterly hopeless and devastated, she heard Zhou Zhiruo's voice, which was trembling slightly, bewildered, and... relieved, like a dream.
"Master...look..."
"The demonic energy...it...it has been purified..."
"This...this must be the nectar left behind after purification..."
"This must be the nectar left behind after purification...!"
Chapter 59: ? Flowers wither, wounds cover the ground, fallen petals break one's heart!
Zuixian Tower.
These three words represent the ultimate in the entire Jiangnan martial arts world, and even among merchants traveling from the north and south.
Ultimate luxury, ultimate deliciousness, also means ultimate...being well-informed.
This building is not in a remote location, but rather in the most bustling and prosperous area of Jiaxing Prefecture. Backed by the vast and misty South Lake and facing the main street with its heavy traffic, it is truly a prime piece of land.
The entire building is made of golden nanmu wood that is over a hundred years old. It is seven stories high. In Jiaxing, where most buildings are only three or four stories high, it stands out like a crane among chickens. From a distance, it looks magnificent.
The building features flying eaves and brackets, carved beams and painted rafters, and a roof covered with a layer of emerald green glazed tiles that shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight, making it seem as if it were not an ordinary restaurant, but a palace of celestial beings.
In front of the building hangs a huge black lacquered plaque with gold lettering, bearing the three large, vigorous characters "Zui Xian Lou" (Drunken Immortal Pavilion). The calligraphy is powerful and penetrating, and it is said to have been written by a great calligrapher from a previous dynasty who was a great lover of wine.
After drinking heavily, he wrote the poem.
This plaque alone is worth a fortune.
Stepping inside the building reveals a completely different world.
The first floor is a spacious lobby with dozens of square tables and long benches.
Although it wasn't lunchtime yet, the restaurant was already about 50-60% full.
Merchants, their faces weathered and worn, were taking off their luggage and eating meat and drinking wine heartily.
There were groups of three or five wandering swordsmen with long swords at their waists and sharp eyes, talking in hushed tones.
There were also bodyguards and escorts with sharp features and bulging temples, who vigilantly scanned their surroundings.
The place was bustling with noise, the clinking of cups and plates filled the air, and the aroma of wine, meat, and sweat created a vibrant and lively scene of life in the martial arts world.
The second floor is a private room, separated by carved wooden screens, making it much quieter.
Those who could ascend this building were mostly prominent figures, either wealthy landowners or officials in the city.
The waiters were all a bit more astute than those downstairs; they could tell a customer's identity and background at a glance and handle them appropriately and just right.
From the third floor onwards, it became a true den of iniquity. Each private room was named after a theme such as "Romance in the Wind, Flowers, Snow, and Moon" or "Fisherman, Woodcutter, Farmer, and Scholar."
The interior is exquisitely furnished, with calligraphy and paintings by famous people, antique bonsai, and everything else you could want.
Only those who are among the top masters in the martial arts world or incredibly wealthy tycoons are eligible to make a reservation.
This is the Drunken Immortal Pavilion.
Wang Meng walked alone toward the most bustling area of Jiaxing Prefecture.
Zuixianlou is now almost in sight.
Before he even got close, the complex aroma, a blend of rich wine, meat, sweet pastries, and the sweat, perfume, and medicinal scents of all sorts of people from all over the country, had already forcefully entered his nostrils.
Wang Meng took a deep breath, absorbing the essence of everyday life into his chest, and a smile with an enigmatic meaning appeared on his lips.
Two burly men with prominent temples stood on either side like two iron towers.
Their sharp, hawk-like eyes scanned everyone who came in and out, but paused noticeably when they landed on Wang Meng, who was all alone.
The gaze was scrutinizing and wary, trying to see him through from head to toe.
Wang Meng, however, ignored them completely. His gaze didn't linger on the two burly men at all, as if they were just two lifeless stone sculptures.
At the bottom of the steps by the door, a ragged, emaciated old beggar appeared to be resting with his eyes closed. However, the moment Wang Meng walked past him, the slight twitching of his ears and the almost imperceptible, momentary tension in his muscles revealed that he was no ordinary beggar.
Without pausing, Wang Meng stepped directly onto the steps of Zuixianlou, worn smooth and shiny by countless footsteps.
He knew that from the moment he stepped onto this street, at least a dozen pairs of eyes, some open and some hidden, had been on him, assessing his intentions and speculating about his identity.
But he didn't care.
Because tonight, he is not a passerby, but the dealer.
Not far away, by the wall, a blind fortune teller tapped his bamboo clappers, his cloudy eyes always occasionally glancing at the customers with bulging waists and steady gaits.
Wang Meng ignored this and went straight up the steps of Zuixianlou.
Before Wang Meng could speak, a female steward dressed in a royal blue brocade robe immediately came over.
"Young master, you've finally arrived."
The woman in charge led Wang Meng into the main hall of Zuixianlou.
The heat then hit my face.
The lobby was bustling with noise and chatter, like a pot of boiling oil.
Near the entrance, several square tables were pushed together, where a dozen or so women dressed as Taoist nuns sat.
They wore plain-colored Taoist robes, carried long swords on their backs, and had faces that were either cold or beautiful, but their brows all carried an inescapable air of arrogance.
The table was set with only tea and a few plates of vegetarian snacks, which seemed out of place among the wandering swordsmen around them who were eating meat and drinking wine in large bowls.
In another corner of the lobby, a group of beggars, dressed in clean clothes and with an air of importance, had gathered. Yes, they were beggars.
Although they were also wearing patched-up clothes, they were washed clean and without a single stain.
The dog-beating stick in their hands was no ordinary bamboo pole, but was made of fine hardwood or refined iron, with even intricate patterns carved on its surface. This was the "Clean Clothes Faction" of the Beggars' Sect, who considered themselves a pure and upright group and disdained associating with the "Dirty Clothes Faction" whose members were covered in filth.
At this moment, they were gathered around a large round table piled high with all sorts of delicacies, including chicken, duck, fish, and meat, and wine jars were scattered all over the floor. These people were playing drinking games, their laughter and banter filling the air, a stark contrast to the aloofness of the Emei Sect.
Besides the forces of these two major factions, the main hall was filled with all sorts of wandering martial artists.
There were groups of burly men, shirtless, revealing their muscular chests adorned with dragons and tigers, playing drinking games and shouting louder and louder than the last. There was also a swordsman sitting alone in a corner, wearing a straw hat, with a pot of turbid wine in front of him and a long sword lying across the table, silently wiping it, keeping strangers away.
Several scantily clad, alluring women from the martial arts world moved between different tables, joking and teasing the rough and boisterous men, eliciting bursts of laughter.
Among these people, one table of guests stood out particularly.
They were exceptionally tall and robust, with high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and dark, rough skin due to years of exposure to wind and sun.
They wore thick fur robes, with curved knives hanging at their waists, and spoke with a heavy accent from beyond the Great Wall, chattering away in a way that was incomprehensible to onlookers.
These people had an astonishing appetite; the roasted lamb leg and large chunks of beef bone on the table were devoured in a flash, and they drank directly from large earthenware bowls, guzzling like cattle.
Judging from the occasional glances they cast at the Central Plains people, filled with a mixture of contempt and curiosity, they were clearly not from the Central Plains, but rather from tribes from the grasslands or the Western Regions.
The entire lobby is a living microcosm of the martial arts world, a melting pot of all sorts of people.
Various forces converge here, seemingly unrelated, but in reality, undercurrents are surging, and countless eyes are secretly observing each other.
Wang Meng's appearance was like a block of ice thrown into a pot of boiling oil, instantly bringing a moment of silence to this noisy area.
Wang Meng remained calm and composed, seemingly oblivious to the stares he received. A faint smile played on his lips as he followed the stewardess steadily through the lobby and headed straight for the mahogany staircase leading upstairs.
He knew that today's Drunken Immortal Pavilion, though seemingly just an ordinary business negotiation, was actually his first official public appearance in the Jianghu of Jiaxing Prefecture as the new owner of Mantuo Manor.
He has to do a great job this time.
As you climb the stairs, the noise downstairs seems to be blocked by an invisible barrier, gradually fading away.
The second floor was clearly much more elegant than the first floor, with thick carpets that made no sound when you stepped on them.
The air was filled with a faint scent of sandalwood, and the walls were adorned with calligraphy and paintings by famous artists, creating a scene of wealth and elegance.
The woman in charge led him to the door of a private room called "Tingtao Pavilion" and bowed, saying, "Young master, Madam Ruan from Tong Sihai and our distinguished guests have been waiting inside for quite some time."
Wang Meng nodded slightly and reached out to push open the slightly ajar carved wooden door.
Inside the private room, two guests were enjoying tea at an octagonal table.
The person in the main seat was Madam Ruan, the owner of "Tong Si Hai," the largest grain store in Jiaxing.
When she looked up and saw that the person was Wang Meng, her hand holding the teacup paused slightly in mid-air, and a hint of obvious surprise flashed in her eyes, but it was quickly covered by the composure she had developed in the business world.
What truly made the atmosphere delicate was the "young master" beside Madam Ruan.
He was still dressed in white, his face as handsome as jade, but now, his eyes, as bright as stars, no longer held the condescending scrutiny of their first meeting. Instead, they were filled with a deep, undisguised amusement and interest.
Unlike Madam Ruan, she did not immediately get up. Instead, she leisurely leaned back in her chair, her fingertips lightly tapping the warm teacup. A half-smile played on her lips as she looked down at Wang Meng, her gaze sweeping from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, as if she were reassessing something interesting.
Wang Meng chuckled inwardly.
He knew they recognized him.
"So... it's Master Wang."
Madam Ruan broke the silence first. She slowly stood up, her face showing just the right amount of amazement: "The young man who came to deliver the visiting card a few days ago was actually the Master himself. Madam Ruan was truly blind. My apologies."
"Madam, you flatter me."
Wang Meng wore a gentle smile, as if nothing had happened before. He calmly walked in, cupped his hands, and said, "It's just a small matter, nothing to worry about."
"I have met Madam Ruan."
His gaze swept calmly over Madam Ruan, finally settling on the still-sitting "Young Master Zhao," his eyes filled with a hint of inquiry.
Just then, the "Young Master Zhao" finally made a move.
She stood up gracefully, her movements elegant and fluid, exuding an innate air of nobility.
She walked slowly to Wang Meng. She was a little shorter than him and had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze.
"Master Wang!"
She spoke, her voice clear and bright, yet carrying a hint of sly laughter, "I quite have an interesting quirk that I enjoy traveling incognito."
This statement directly addressed the previous events, serving as both a joke and a test, instantly bringing the two individuals to the same level.
"Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated."
If you want to do business with a large trading company like Tong Sihai, you have to see the demeanor of the person in charge first, right?
As it turned out, Madam Ruan truly lived up to her reputation.