"Heard the news?"

"What news?"

"You don't know?"

"Know what? Just say it."

"You don't know such a big thing?"

"You bastard... where's my knife!"

"Eh, stop, stop, I thought you knew."

Underneath a densely shaded old tree in the mountains, a tent made of oiled cloth sheltered a tea stand, where more than a hundred cultivators from various regions gathered. Most of these cultivators appeared travel-worn and exhausted, many bearing injuries. Clearly, they had been on the move for days and had experienced bloody battles. Yet, despite their weary faces, their eyes were bright and clear, revealing a sense of uplifted vigor and spirit.

The tea stand was modest, with only about fifty old Eight Immortals tables spotted with paint peels and stained with tea, and a simple kitchen less than ten square meters in size. Two or three dozen workers in gray short-sleeved shirts, with white aprons tied around their waists and towels slung over their shoulders, bustled about. Serving tea and water to the patrons, they offered steaming baskets of pastries that, while not exquisite, were fragrant and enticing.

And this mysterious tea stand that could serve such a number of cultivators was none other than the largest intelligence organization in Dianchuan Province, or rather, in the entire Great Xuan Dynasty: The Listening Wind Teahouse!

There were rumors that the owner of the Listening Wind Teahouse was actually of the bloodline of the former Crown Prince. He established the teahouse to gather information from all over the world, preparing for his future restoration of the kingdom. Whether this rumor was true or false, it was a matter of perspective. But if the owner of the Listening Wind Teahouse really was of the former royal lineage, the Great Xuan Dynasty would hardly sit idly by as it developed to this point.

As a massive intelligence organization, their teahouses could be opened anywhere. Even now, as Dianchuan Province was amidst chaos and upheaval, the teahouse's business was not affected in the slightest. On the contrary, because of the war, the business of this all-seeing mysterious organization had boomed to several times that of the past. All employees under the Listening Wind Teahouse had little combat ability, but they were extremely skilled in the art of escape! This was why they dared to set up teahouses and tea stands anywhere.

Besides intelligence, the tea and pastries they sold were also well-crafted. Like the tea stand before them, the tea and pastries for sale had the power to heal wounds, calm minds, and relieve fatigue, though they were not as potent as genuine elixirs. For the cultivators of Dianchuan Province, who were currently under great mental strain, taking tea and snacks here was indeed a very comfortable and pleasant affair.

"Hurry up and tell me, don't keep me in suspense. About fifty miles away in Xingfeng Village, a group of rat demons appeared, devouring many people. I gathered some friends and am planning to wipe them out at noon. I don't have time to sit around here with you shooting the breeze."

A big-bearded cultivator in a black long robe, his face full of curly whiskers and a wide cleaver strapped to his back, grabbed a few delicate pale pink shrimp dumplings from the steamer. Stuffing them into his mouth, he said while chewing.

"Hmm? Rat demons? Where did you get the news of these numerous yet easy-to-kill demons? Count me in."

The middle-aged man beside him had a shrewd face and a small, hawk-hook mustache above his high nose that sharpened his appearance. Smiling as he filled the big-bearded man's cup with tea, he chuckled and said, "Not taking you. There are not that many of them to begin with; if I include you, there's less to share. Are you going to spill the beans or not? If not, I'm leaving – it's almost time."

Glancing at the sun outside the tea stand, the big-bearded man wiped his mouth and stood up to leave.

"What's the rush? There's still over two hours till noon." He pulled the big-bearded man back to sit down. The small-mustached man rolled up his sleeves, leaned over the table, and muttered in a low voice, "You know Meitan Prefecture, which is over two thousand miles from us, right?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"Lately, there's been this extraordinary fellow who seems like a reincarnation of a philanthropist, going around stuffing Talisman Scripts everywhere. And they're all of that high-grade, powerful ancient talisman type. Someone roughed out a count, and in just this month or so, the number of talismans this guy has handed out must be no less than three thousand. Good lord, not even the cultivators from the Spiritual Light Treasure Sect would have such audacity. The situation in Meitan Prefecture used to be even worse than ours. But now, this guy has forcefully turned it around. You know about the Blood List the Demonic Evil Cultivators put out, don't you? This fellow, from total obscurity, surged forward in leaps and bounds and has now climbed into the top hundred. Plus, there are signs of him climbing even higher."

The small-mustached man was so engrossed in his storytelling that he didn't notice the people at the nearby table pricking up their ears too. Tea stand workers holding trays took in all this information with a secret technique and then conveyed it to their colleagues responsible for information collection at the back. Passed from mouth to mouth, heard along the way, this was one of the major sources of intelligence for the Listening Wind Teahouse.

"There's such a thing? So generous, but what exactly is he after..." The big-bearded man, surprised and puzzled, was still furrowing his brows. Just then, a cropped-haired man sitting nearby turned around. He held a teacup in his left hand, his right hand bandaged, and said, "What else could he be after, if not the same thing we are?"

As soon as the cropped-haired man spoke, the other cultivators who had been all ears waiting for the follow-up conversation all showed an expression that seemed to say, "Of course."

"Yes, in these times, who isn't after that same bit of Human Path Merit." The big-bearded man slowly nodded his head.

Since the great unrest in Dianchuan, the province's six prefectures have been caught in a chaotic war. The number of cultivators involved from the province has approached a million. In the initial stages, the Sect Aristocracies had been somewhat hesitant and watchful, but after a period of observation, they dispatched their disciples and family members, rapidly getting involved in this once-in-a-millennium battle.

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