Chapter Twelve: The Kingdom of the Black Rooster

Since this was White Bone Ridge, according to the old village chief, heading westward might lead to a place bustling with people.

Yuan Wuyi had been using the Cloud Riding technique from the Heavenly Gang Transformation as he traveled through the air. Though the technique was only at a minor mastery, it could not transport him thousands of miles in an instant. Nevertheless, for this kind of journey, the Cloud Riding technique at minor mastery was perfectly suited.

After flying for most of the day, he finally caught sight of a marketplace.

"Black Rooster Kingdom," Yuan Wuyi read aloud from the plaque above the city gate.

"I haven't tasted earthly food yet. Perhaps today I can finally try some," he said, using his transformation art to disguise himself as a scholar in a yellow robe. Despite having reached the fasting stage, the craving for food had not vanished just because of his cultivation.

He entered the city alongside the common folks.

"Which royal offspring has wandered out here?"

"Quickly, report to the palace."

"Yes, sir." A gate guard spotted Yuan Wuyi and immediately dispatched a soldier to inform the palace.

What Yuan Wuyi did not know was that in Black Rooster Kingdom, ordinary people were forbidden from wearing any yellow garments. Only the royal offspring could don yellow, so when Yuan Wuyi entered an inn, everyone assumed he was a prince. His arrival drew every eye in the establishment; all the patrons slowly stood, none daring to remain seated.

"Could there be something wrong with my transformation? Why are they all staring at me?" Yuan Wuyi wondered, looking around at the inn full of gazes. He suspected his disguise might have failed again and feared they might mistake him for a monster.

"Waiter, come here," Yuan Wuyi said, choosing a window seat.

"Y... yes, Your Grace," the waiter replied, legs trembling as he approached, head bowed, afraid to meet Yuan Wuyi's gaze.

"Is there something on me? Why is everyone staring?" Yuan Wuyi asked.

"No... nothing, sir. They’re just attracted by Your Grace’s presence," the waiter stammered. As soon as he spoke, the other patrons all sat down, convinced Yuan Wuyi was a prince sneaking out from the palace to mingle as a commoner. If someone revealed his identity and offended him, it might cost them dearly.

They thought Yuan Wuyi's appearance was that of a rather young prince; the younger the prince, the more likely he was to indulge in such escapades. Similar incidents had happened before.

Yet this was the least discreet prince they’d ever seen. Previous princes going out to play had always dressed plainly, but this one wore a yellow robe openly, as if he wanted everyone to know his identity.

"Bring me all your best food and wine," Yuan Wuyi declared, unconcerned with their thoughts. He’d eat and then leave.

"Yes, Your Grace," the waiter hurried to the kitchen, secretly lamenting the losses the innkeeper would suffer today. When a prince dines in your inn, you cannot dare to charge him.

The innkeeper wasn’t thinking about money, only hoping this unlucky guest would finish and leave quickly.

Now, the patrons neither dared to eat nor speak, nor even leave. They sat stiffly, occasionally sneaking glances at Yuan Wuyi, but quickly looking away.

The only one comfortable was Yuan Wuyi, leaning by the window, observing the haggling vendors and housewives on the street. He had never seen what ancient streets looked like.

His curious demeanor convinced the patrons even more that he was a prince.

"Waiter, where’s my food and wine?"

"Right away, Your Grace."

Soon his table was piled high with delicacies and fine wine.

"Smells quite good!" Yuan Wuyi picked up a pork knuckle and took a bite.

"Not that tasty," he muttered, putting it down and sipping slowly from a cup of wine.

"The wine is better," Yuan Wuyi declared, grabbing a large jug and drinking heartily, casting aside all scholarly airs. The patrons were surprised at his boldness—quaffing wine and eating heartily.

He enjoyed the wine, but the accompanying dishes were lackluster. The only merit was their purity; they were free of any pollution, unlike those he'd eaten in his previous life. But now, as an immortal, even polluted food would not harm him; he only cared for its flavor.

Without good food to accompany the wine, drinking was bland. Yuan Wuyi drank a few jars, then prepared to leave, but decided to pay for his meal before departing.

Among the thirty-six transformations of the Heavenly Gang, one is the Power to Turn Stone into Gold—not an illusion, but a true alteration of matter. It can change the substance itself; if Yuan Wuyi wished to turn a table into a chair, it would truly become a chair.

"This is for the bill," he said, transforming a wine cup into a gold ingot and tossing it to the waiter before turning to leave.

The innkeeper had not expected such largesse—a gold ingot given for a meal. It was the first time the waiter had ever seen such a large ingot, and he was stunned. With such wealth in a humble inn, some patrons’ glances toward him became far less friendly. The innkeeper, sensing trouble, quickly took the ingot from the waiter, snapped him out of his stupor, and urged him to escort the guest, warning the others that this was a prince’s reward—who dared to steal it?

"Please be careful, Your Grace," the waiter hurried to Yuan Wuyi’s side, clearing a path though none blocked him, hoping to leave a good impression and perhaps receive another gold ingot.

"This is for you," Yuan Wuyi said, tossing another gold ingot to the waiter.

Everyone in the inn regretted not acting sooner; the waiter himself was shocked at Yuan Wuyi's generosity—his mere wish had been granted. The innkeeper looked at the waiter with envy.

"Stop right there! Who are you to dare wear a yellow robe in the street?" As soon as Yuan Wuyi stepped outside, he was surrounded by a commander and his soldiers.

They had first assumed Yuan Wuyi was a prince sneaking out, but upon checking, found no prince was missing. Thus, someone was brazenly wearing yellow in public—a grave offense, worthy of immediate arrest and perhaps a promotion for the captors.

"What business is it of yours what I wear?" Yuan Wuyi retorted, surrounded by soldiers, showing them no courtesy. He thought they should count themselves lucky he hadn’t bothered them, yet they dared to trouble him.

Hearing that Yuan Wuyi might not be a prince, those in the inn who had abandoned thoughts of robbing the gold ingot now reconsidered, casting greedy glances at the innkeeper and the waiter. With another ingot added, even more eyes settled on them. The innkeeper was at a loss—what was he to do now?