One Person: I, the Dragon Tiger Stall King! I Won!

178: Taoist priests don’t leave the mountain, incense comes to themThe morning in Black Rock Gully was wrapped in mist like a greyish-white veil, shrouding the crooked iron frames and collapsed wellheads in the ruins.

A cold wind blew through the broken walls, whipping up several yellowed sheets of paper—these were clippings from Su Qingzhu’s ’Fire Seed Project’ series of reports, plastered densely across the mottled brick wall.

The ink had become fuzzy from being soaked by rain, yet they remained stubbornly pinned there, like some kind of silent declaration.

A black off-road vehicle crushed through the mud and came to a stop.

The door opened, and leather boots stepped into the standing water, splashing up a ring of murky ripples.

Li Chengzhi stood still; the pressure of his Grandmaster Realm followed him like a shadow, making the air feel as if it had been tightened by an invisible hand.

His gaze swept across this dilapidated place, finally landing on the figure squatting in front of the stove—Zhang Xuanyi was slowly stirring a large pot, the scent of porridge mixed with the smell of firewood, steaming with warmth in the damp, cold air.

He did not stand up, nor did he offer a salute, simply scooping out a bowl without raising his head and handing it over: ’Eat something first? It doesn’t taste good if it gets cold.’

Li Chengzhi frowned slightly, his tone cold and stern: ’Tianshi Mansion has been ordered to investigate the abnormal earth vein fluctuations over the past half year, and all the sources point to Your Excellency’s tracks. Last night, the earth eye opened on its own, and the water veins surged in reverse; this is not something human power can achieve. Who exactly are you?’

’Who?’ Zhang Xuanyi grinned, the bloodshot veins from staying up all night still visible at the corners of his eyes. ’Just a Daoist who cooks porridge.’

He took the bowl back and set it by the pot, his voice as light as if he were making small talk: ’You’re talking about earth vein fluctuations? That thing is just like a person; it cries when it’s hungry for too long. I just fed it a hot meal.’

Li Chengzhi’s eyes narrowed.

Before he could speak, footsteps approached from the distance.

Su Qingzhu walked over quickly, her press pass hanging in front of her chest, her voice recorder already turned on. Her clear voice cut into the silence:

’According to the Public Regulations on Extraordinary Affairs, special envoys must accept media supervision when performing official duties. Does Tianshi Mansion acknowledge the legitimacy of ”civilian-initiated maintenance of earth Qi”? Do you define such behavior as ”illegal Qi gathering” or ”disrupting the order of heaven and earth”?’

She did not speak quickly, but every word was like a nail, piercing straight into the weak point of the System.

Li Chengzhi’s eyes flickered, but he did not answer.

He was a Grandmaster, not a politician.

But he knew that the pen in the woman’s hand was harder to deal with than some Talismanic Incantations.

Just then, a dozen or so miners walked over one after another, holding lunch boxes, and stood not far away, watching in silence.

Someone whispered:

’Is this the Daoist who helped us get the water flowing?’

’I heard that last night, he stepped down, and the well sprayed water...’

’Don’t let the people from above take him away! This land of ours relies entirely on him to hold it up!’

The crowd gradually gathered; although no one made a move, the silence, mixed with the smell of earth and anger, was like an undercurrent surging.

The atmosphere suddenly tightened.

Zhang Xuanyi stood up, his movements lazy, yet he carried an indescribable composure.

He picked up the entire pot, walked over to Li Chengzhi, and without a word, tilted it sharply—the boiling hot porridge splashed into the snow, steaming and instantly melting a large patch of mud.

Everyone was stunned.

Su Qingzhu’s pupils contracted, and her finger almost pressed the pause button.

Zhang Xuanyi lifted his foot and stepped into the porridge mud without hesitation.

His cloth shoes were already worn out, the soles covered in rice grains and soup, but that step was like striking the drum heart of the earth.

He chanted in a low voice, barely audible: ’First step of Returning to Origin, the fire seed is not extinguished; second step, the pulse breathes... ninth step, the human world has roots.’

With every step, the ground trembled slightly.