My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Is this a trap?

Were those waiters fake?

Was that old man acting?

As soon as they went inside and the door closed, axemen poured out from all directions.

In fact, let alone Lü Yang, if anyone else in the Hundred Thousand Mountains saw this scene, they would probably be speechless with surprise.

After all, this infamous ghost market was no different from a lapdog in front of humans.

Lü Yang glanced at Ye Qingfeng.

Ye Qingfeng walked steadily, his pace neither faster nor slower.

His gaze swept over the waiters, over the lanterns, over the plaque, and finally landed on the old man.

He smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth turning up.

The smile was faint, but Lü Yang felt that the immortal master seemed to have known all along that this would happen.

The old man—Huai Weng—bent his back even lower when he saw them approaching.

He took a step forward, then stopped, as if waiting for the right moment.

Ye Qingfeng spoke only after he reached the starting point of the red carpet. His voice was not loud, but every word was spoken clearly.

"The arrival of distinguished guests brings great honor to my humble abode. This old man, Huai Weng, has been waiting here for a long time."

His voice was neither humble nor arrogant, neither hurried nor slow, just like a true old innkeeper who had been running the inn for decades, welcoming a distinguished guest from afar.

Ye Qingfeng walked onto the red carpet. The red carpet was very soft, and there was no sound when he stepped on it.

The two rows of waiters bowed at the same time, their movements perfectly synchronized, as if they had rehearsed countless times.

Their voices were also in unison, saying in unison, "Welcome, distinguished guests."

Ye Qingfeng smiled.

"You're quite amusing, greeting me so respectfully. How am I supposed to find fault with you?"

Old Man Huai's pale face turned even paler, and cold sweat poured down his back like raindrops.

But his waist is getting closer and closer to ninety degrees.

I was afraid that I might not be satisfied with any detail, and that this person would find a problem.

Sure enough, as long as I don't violate the other party's taboos, they can't kill me, but I don't know what those taboos are.

We can only react to each move as it comes.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

At this moment, Lu Yang's expression was somewhat puzzled after hearing what the immortal master said.

"What does that mean?"

He asked Shen Zhaoyue beside him in a low voice.

Shen Zhaoyue had no intention of hiding anything and spoke directly.

"Didn't you notice that all those strange occurrences happened after the Celestial Master had defied you, which is why he intervened?"

"What does that have to do with the Immortal Master causing trouble?" Lu Yang seemed to have grasped some key points, but he was still somewhat puzzled.

"The Immortal Master's meaning is very simple: find fault, identify the other party's problems, and then take action."

But who would have thought that Lü Yang's eyes lit up instantly after hearing those words.

Find fault?

He likes this!

Growing up in a large mansion, he learned the skill of picking fights with those spoiled brats.

Find fault, nitpick, pick on the smallest details.

He took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and put on a determined look.

When he stepped across the threshold, he walked even faster than Ye Qingfeng.

The inn is very large inside, even larger than it appears from the outside.

The lobby was spacious enough to fit dozens of tables, but only seven or eight tables were placed there, and each table was far apart, separated by screens, flower stands, and fish tanks.

The ground wasn't paved with bluestone slabs, but with wooden flooring, so shiny that it reflected people's images.

Several glass lamps hung from the ceiling, their light not dim but bright and warm, illuminating the entire hall as if it were daytime.

There was no one behind the counter, but the teapot on the table was steaming, the teacups were filled with tea by themselves, and the chairs were pulled out by themselves. Everything was ready, just waiting for the guests to sit down.

Ye Qingfeng sat down at a table by the window.

The chair is a traditional Chinese armchair, made of mahogany with carved flowers, and the seat cushion is made of brocade, with just the right firmness.

Old Huai stood to one side, hands hanging down, back bent, not daring to sit or walk.

He was waiting, waiting for the Taoist priest to speak.

Lü Yang did not sit down.

He walked around the lobby, his eyes scanning the space, his gaze as discerning as that of an imperial envoy on an incognito visit.

He looked very carefully; he examined every table, every chair, every lamp, and every vase, touching and scrutinizing them all.

He walked up to the counter and ran his finger across it.

It was spotless, without a speck of dust.

He walked to the fish tank and looked down at the fish inside.

The fish were alive, red, white, and colorful, swimming around in the water, carefree and content.

Ye Qingfeng had already sat down and was drinking tea from his cup, looking relaxed as if he were truly enjoying a leisurely afternoon.

Old Huai stood to the side, his back aching and his waist sore, but he dared not straighten up. He still had a smile on his face, but that smile had become stiff, like a mask.

Lü Yang was overjoyed.

He cleared his throat.

"Shopkeeper," he said, his voice not loud, but deliberately drawn out, carrying a condescending and critical tone.

Old Man Huai quickly turned around to face him, bending his waist even more.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

Lu Yang dragged over a chair, sat down casually, crossed his legs, leaned back in the chair, and tilted his head back, chin up at Huai Weng.

He tapped his hand twice on the table, a light "tap-tap," but it sounded unusually loud in the quiet lobby.

"What kind of food do you have at this inn?"

Old Man Huai was taken aback.

He hadn't expected the customer to ask about food.

He runs an inn in the ghost market, catering to both ghosts and living people.

Ghosts don't eat, and living people dare not eat their food.

No one ever asked him what he had to eat.

His mind raced for a moment, then he forced a smile, clasped his hands in front of his stomach, and said in the tone of an old shopkeeper:

"Sir, our restaurant offers the finest food and wine, including delicacies from land and sea. Please feel free to order whatever you would like."

Lu Yang was even happier inside.

That's exactly what I was waiting for.

"Bear paw," he said, his eyes fixed on Old Man Huai's face. "I want to eat bear paw."

Old Man Huai's brow twitched slightly, but the smile on his face remained unchanged.

"Yes. How would you like it prepared, sir?"

Lu Yang's lips curled up.

He spoke quickly, as if he had been preparing for this moment: "Braised, no dark soy sauce, use rock sugar to caramelize the sugar. The heat must be just right, simmer for three hours, not a minute more, not a second less."

The meat should be tender but not fall apart; it should be able to be picked up intact with chopsticks and melt in your mouth. The skin should be springy and the tendons should be chewy.

"No winter bamboo shoots, just fresh mushrooms, not dried and soaked ones, but the kind freshly picked from the mountain, still covered in dew. Do you have any?"

After he finished speaking, he picked up the teacup on the table, took a sip of tea, and glanced sideways at Huai Weng, waiting for him to show a troubled expression.

Then he can slam his fist on the table and say, "What's the point of running an inn if you don't have one?" and then the immortal master can make his move.