A week had gone by since Cuo Qing Yi had brought a flute for five silver taels.
In the end, he did manage to find himself a job at a restaurant by working as a waiter.
The restaurant itself is considered one of the more famous dining establishments in the capital, and the building is composed of five floors.
Currently, at the top floor—
"…Sorry for the wait."
Saying this, Cuo Qing Yi sets a few dishes down, and turns away from the table.
Moving over to the walls of the restaurant, and waiting for the guests to call upon him again, Cuo Qing Yi controls himself to maintain a neutral expression on his face.
Occasionally, Cuo Qing Yi would glance at the table that he had moved away from.
Seated around the table currently are three young men, who are all dressed in high-quality fabric.
Taking up a pair of chopsticks, one of the young men picks up a slice of meat, and brings it to his mouth.
"Mm."
Savoring the taste, the young man asks—
"Li-xiong, how does it feel to finally be a government official?"
"If I have issues in the future, can I come and ask you for favors?"
Towards the questions of his friends, the young man who is surnamed Li laughs aloud, and replies—
"Naturally, it feels good. I don't mind doing you two some favors in the future, so long as you give me a bit of compensation."
Picking up a cup of wine, one of the young men says—
"Cheers, and congratulations."
"Cheers."
"Cheers indeed."
As the three young men pressed their cups together, Cuo Qing Yi heaves a sigh.
The young man who is surnamed Li is the son of General Li, the same person who had used their social status to snatch Cuo Qing Yi's position as a civil servant away, and handed it over to the former.
(Having what should have been mine taken away, and is now forced to wait on the person who received it…)
Unfair, that is the sole word that comes to mind, as Cuo Qing Yi thought of this.
"Ai…"
Just as Cuo Qing Yi heaves another sigh, a co-worker walks over, and says—
"Cuo-xiong, it's break time for you."
"Thanks."
Walking over to the corner of the restaurant, Cuo Qing Yi looks out at the capital, while pressing his hands onto the guardrail.
"…"
Reaching into the fold of his clothes, Cuo Qing Yi takes out the white flute.
Out of boredom, he presses the flute to his lips, and blows into it.
If one had to describe the sound, it's not unbearable, and it's rather easy to tell that the person playing is a complete amateur.
"…"
And amidst his rough performance, Cuo Qing Yi thought of General Li and his son, who is currently seated in the back.
Rather quickly, all forms of sound—other than the sound of the flute, become unable to reach Cuo Qing Yi's ears.
Following Cuo Qing Yi's entry into a state of trance, a stream of dark mist—invisible to the eyes of mortals, emerges from the white flute, while the former continues to play.
Influenced by Cuo Qing Yi's thoughts, the dark mist immediately lunges towards the young man who is surnamed Li.
Wrapping itself around the person's neck, the dark mist takes on the form of a ring, and as it shrinks—
"Ugh…!"
Dropping his chopsticks, surnamed Li clutches his neck.
"Hm? Li-xiong, something the matter?"
"Hahaha, did you choke on your food?"
"I…-!"
Sensing something wrapping itself tightly around his neck, surnamed Li finds it impossible to speak, and despite his desperate attempts to feel for the thing that is currently choking him, he's unable to touch the dark mist.
As his nails scrape against his skin, blood begins to flow outwards, causing his two friends—who had accompanied him, to rise from their seats in alarm.
However—
"Ack…!"
*Kaka!* a disturbing sound comes from surnamed Li's neck, and in the next instance, he falls over.
"Li-xiong?"
"…?"
Approaching surnamed Li, one of the young men places a finger to the former's nose, and as their complexion turns pale, the young man looks to the other person, and says—
"D-Dead…!"
"Ah?"
Widening their eyes at one another, the two young men turn to the table of food, and one of them shouts—
"Where's the waiter who delivered this food?! He dares to poison the son of General Li!"
"Uh…?"
Snapping out of his trance from the commotion, Cuo Qing Yi turns around, and seeing surnamed Li, who had become a cold corpse, his initial reaction is shock, but rather quickly—
"…"
Cold sweat forms over Cuo Qing Yi's forehead, as one of the young men, turns in his direction with a clear sign of suspicion.
"I… I didn't poison the food!"
"Liar!"
"Bring the chef who made this food over as well!"
Subjected to cold gazes from all sides, Cuo Qing Yi instinctively takes a step back.
However, since there was a guardrail behind him, he wasn't able to put additional distance between the glaring crowd and himself.
Just as one of surnamed Li's friends takes a step forward—
"He didn't poison the food."
Someone spoke out, and as numerous eyes turned towards the same direction, all of them were focused onto a white-robed young man.
Resting on the table of the white-robed young man is a sheathed sword, and setting his wine cup down, the former says—
"That flute in his hand was the cause."
Rising from his seat, the white-robed young man picks up his sword and approaches, while continuing to say—
"It's a magic treasure."
"…?"
Despite the white-robed young man maintaining a smile throughout his approach, Cuo Qing Yi feels a bad premonition welling up in his chest, and just as the former is a few meters away—
*…!!!*
"…!"
Cold steel flashes, and—
"Oh?"
Raising an eye, the white-robed young man lowers his drawn sword, and shifts his gaze away from the damaged guardrail, to turn towards Cuo Qing Yi—who is currently in a crouched posture.
Judging by the missing portion of Cuo Qing Yi's sleeve, he had just barely dodged the white-robed young man's attack.
"For a mere mortal, your reaction speed is quite good."
In that instance, everyone realizes that the white-robed young man is a practitioner.
Cultivation realms are a completely foreign topic to general mortals. That being the case, all practitioners to them may as well be immortals.
Kicking off the ground, the white-robed young man charges at Cuo Qing Yi—who quickly rises to a stand, and puts some distance between the former and himself.
"Die!"
As the white-robed young man lunges his sword forward, Cuo Qing Yi barely evades the blade, as it grazes his cheek, causing a droplet of blood to fly into the air!
Instinctively, Cuo Qing Yi tightens his grip over the white flute, and smashes it towards the white-robed young man's head.
Raising a cold snort, the white-robed young man dodges the flute, while pressing their spirit Qi-shrouded left hand forward.
*Boom!*
"Ugh…!"
Hit by a blast of spirit Qi, Cuo Qing Yi's figure flies across the vicinity, and crashes onto a table—throwing plates and food items into the air.
Leaping forward, the white-robed young man soars through the air, and stabs their sword down from above.
"…!"
Enduring the pain that is emanating from his upper body, Cuo Qing Yi raises the flute, and—
*Kakaka!* as the floor beneath Cuo Qing Yi cracks, the flute's base clashes with the sword's tip, causing a shrilled sound to roar!
"Ugh…!"
As the sound pierces into his ears, the white-robed young man widens his eyes, as a dense volume of dark mist pours out of the flute, and devours him whole!
"The hell is this?! Uh! Aaaaaaaahhh!!!"
Astonishment and terror appear in his eyes, as the white-robed young man raises a scream of agony, while his body trembles uncontrollably!
In the next instance—
*Boom!!!* the body of the white-robed young man explodes into a haze of blood!
"…"
Drenching in the blood of another, Cuo Qing Yi looks down at his hand, while the white-robed young man's sword stabs into the floor near his foot.
"…"
"…"
For a brief instance, silence looms in the air, as none of the restaurant's guests or workers dared to speak.
"Hm?"
Recovering his wits, Cuo Qing Yi sees the white-robed young man's storage pouch floating in the air.
From within the storage pouch, a jade slip flies out, and immediately, a majestic voice says—
[To have the galls to kill a disciple of my-]
For reasons unclear to him, Cuo Qing Yi can already guess what this voice will be saying, so he immediately grabs the storage pouch, and flees.