Chapter 350: A Banquet, Wei Zihao's Whereabouts

Jiuli Village was alive with celebration.

When the news spread that Lu Qing was inviting the entire village to a feast—specifically to cook Ling Mi rice—everyone was buzzing with excitement.

The two mu of Spirit Field hidden behind Lu Qing’s Half Mountain Small Courtyard had drawn visitors from nearly every household in the village. Everyone had seen the lush growth of Ling Gu, the sacred rice. The heavy, golden stalks swayed under their own weight, the finest harvest any of them had ever witnessed.

So naturally, curiosity burned bright: what kind of magic could such exquisite grain produce when cooked into rice?

At the Lu family’s courtyard, tables and chairs were scattered everywhere—each one different, hastily brought from homes across the village. In the countryside, hosting a banquet was a communal affair. One family hosted, and all the others pitched in to help.

Lu Qing, apron tied tightly around his waist, was busy at the makeshift stove in the yard. Since today was his feast, he was determined to cook it himself.

The family kitchen was too cramped for such a large meal. So he’d built a simple outdoor stove instead.

Now, he was slicing meat.

On the rough wooden cutting board, his sword-light flickered—swift, precise. Thick chunks of beef and mutton were rapidly transformed into even, thin slices.

Swish, swish, swish…

A flick of the wrist, a gentle press and rotation of his palm, and a perfect, ruby-red slab of beef emerged—each piece so evenly cut, it looked like it had been measured with a ruler.

The onlookers were mesmerized.

They finally understood why Lu Qing had politely declined their help earlier.

With skill like this, even a lifetime of practice wouldn’t come close.

To help would only be to hinder.

Ma Gu watched too—but unlike the villagers, who were simply awestruck, he was studying the essence of Lu Qing’s blade technique.

As a master who had also awakened his Domain, Ma Gu recognized the staggering level of refinement in Lu Qing’s movements. Even when wielding a humble kitchen knife, the trace of his Dao was unmistakable—so profound, so refined, it sent a shiver through Ma Gu’s soul.

Just as the crowd was transfixed, the courtyard gate creaked open.

Xiao Tian appeared, flanked by several burly men, each carrying baskets of goods.

“Lu Xiao Langjun,” Xiao Tian said respectfully, “the chickens, ducks, and fish you asked for—I’ve brought them all.”

“Good. Put them over there.” Lu Qing nodded.

“Is there anything else you need, Lu Xiao Langjun?” Xiao Tian asked.

“Not right now. Oh, and—you’re welcome to stay and eat with us.”

“Ah…” Xiao Tian hesitated.

Ma Gu stepped forward, gave him a light tap on the head, and scowled.

“Just stay. What’s there to think about?”

The fool didn’t realize how rare and precious this opportunity was.

Ma Gu, who knew the true value of Ling Mi, felt a twinge of frustration.

“I understand, Ma Ye,” Xiao Tian quickly replied, shrinking back. “I’ll be honored to stay.”

Lu Qing smiled. “It’s just a simple meal. No need to be nervous.”

As Xiao Tian found a seat, the villagers finally found their roles. They rushed to take the animals from the baskets and begin slaughtering them.

They couldn’t help Lu Qing with the cutting, but butchering chickens and ducks? That was something they knew how to do.

With teamwork, the preparations were soon complete.

Piles of freshly slaughtered chickens, ducks, fish, and Lu Qing’s perfectly diced beef and mutton were laid out in neat rows.

Even before cooking began, the villagers were already salivating.

They lived in poverty. Big cuts of meat like these? Only seen during festivals or weddings.

Lu Qing knew this. That’s why he’d specifically asked Xiao Tian to buy extra meat.

Now that everything was ready, it was time to cook.

With so many guests, Lu Qing skipped the fancy dishes and went straight for a hearty, large-pot meal.

But he wasn’t worried. With his skill, and the years of research behind his secret seasonings, even a simple stew would be unforgettable.

A massive iron pot was hoisted onto the fire. Once the wood burned bright, Lu Qing scooped in a large chunk of solidified pork fat.

Spit!

The fat melted instantly, releasing a rich, mouthwatering aroma.

When the oil was hot enough, he added a piece of sugar, caramelizing it into a deep amber hue.

Then, he poured in a large bowl of cubed pork—pre-boiled to perfection.

Crack!

The sizzle echoed across the yard. The scent of seared meat filled the air, making the villagers’ noses twitch.

Especially the children. Their mouths watered uncontrollably.

No one could resist.

The smell was pure temptation.

Now, with the pork’s color deepened and the flavor blooming, Lu Qing poured in water, added spices, and let it simmer slowly.

While the pot bubbled, he set up another stove to prepare the other dishes.

But while Lu Qing moved with calm precision, orchestrating multiple pots at once—

Back at the Wei Family’s private estate, a wave of shock and joy had swept through.

“A Hai… did you say you found Zihao?” Wei Xinghe’s eyes lit up with disbelief.

Wei Fu Ren trembled slightly in surprise.

“Hai Shu… you’re telling the truth? You found my brother?” Wei Zian’s voice cracked with emotion.

Two months ago, news had reached them from Ji Zhou: Qingyun Jian Ge had been utterly destroyed overnight.

The sect’s disciples were wiped out—nearly all of them. The mountain gates burned to ash. Only a few scattered survivors, scattered abroad, had escaped.

When the Wei Family heard, panic gripped them.

Because their eldest son, Wei Zihao, had been a disciple of Qingyun Jian Ge.

Wei Xinghe immediately ordered a full-scale search—alive or dead, they needed to find him.

But two months had passed. Nothing.

They were beginning to believe Zihao was gone.

Then—suddenly—Wei Da Zong Guan arrived with news.

“Master, The Lady of the Wei Family,” Wei Da Zong Guan said, bowing deeply, “two days ago, our spy in Zhou Fu spotted the eldest master. As soon as I heard, I rushed here to inform you.”

“Hao Er is in Zhou Fu?” Wei Xinghe frowned. “Then why hasn’t he come home?”

“According to our spy,” Wei Da Zong Guan continued, “he’s with a few of his Qingyun Jian Ge companions. Their expressions… were frantic. As if fleeing from something.”

“Our spies dared not approach. They stayed hidden, watching, protecting from afar.”

“Fleeing?” Wei Xinghe’s face darkened. Then he realized. “Of course. Qingyun Jian Ge was destroyed overnight. No one knows who did it. Zihao must know something… or he fears bringing trouble upon us. That’s why he’s hiding in Zhou Fu, avoiding contact.”

Whoever had wiped out Qingyun Jian Ge—such a powerful sect—must be an unimaginable force.

No matter the reason, it was something the Wei Family could never afford to provoke.

And so, Wei Zihao had chosen to hide.

But Wei Xinghe couldn’t stand by. He wouldn’t let his son face danger alone.

“I’m going to Zhou Fu,” he declared. “I’ll bring him home.”

“Father, wait!”

Wei Zian stepped forward, voice firm.

“This is too serious. We should consult Lu Qing, the young doctor, before acting.”

Though he ached to know his brother’s fate, Wei Zian’s instincts had flared.

After months of training, the World Origin Qi had fully merged with his body. His cultivation had surged. His senses—sharp as a blade—had become unnervingly acute.

And now, a faint, chilling pressure lingered in the air.

He trusted his gut.

“Consulting Lu Xiao Langjun?” Wei Xinghe hesitated. “But today he’s hosting a banquet for the whole village. He’s probably busy. It might be rude to interrupt.”

Wei Xinghe respected Lu Qing deeply. Even now, his posture was stiff, his tone reserved—nothing like the easy familiarity Wei Zian shared with him.

“He won’t mind,” Wei Zian insisted. “Father, Qingyun Jian Ge was one of Ji Zhou’s mightiest sects. It was erased in a single night. The enemy must be terrifying—beyond anything we can imagine. If you go to Zhou Fu blindly, you risk exposing yourself. What if they see you? What then?”

He paused. “We must plan. Best to first consult Lu Xiao Da Fu and Chen Lao Qian Bei. At the very least, we should inform the Ancestor.”

Wei Zian laid out his reasoning calmly.

In his heart, Lu Qing and Old Doctor were unmatched in wisdom and strength.

Any crisis—especially one this grave—demanded their counsel.

But as he spoke, Wei Xinghe, Wei Fu Ren, and Wei Da Zong Guan stared, stunned.

They could barely believe these words had come from their once-spoiled, delicate young master.

“Master,” Wei Fu Ren finally said, “An Er is right. We must discuss this with Lu Xiao Langjun.”

Wei Xinghe nodded, a slow smile spreading. “You’re right. I was too emotional. An Er sees clearer than I do.”

He looked at his youngest son with pride. “An Er… you’ve grown. You’re more level-headed than I am.”

Wei Zian blushed. “Thank you, Father. I know you’re only worried about Brother Zihao.”

Wei Xinghe’s smile deepened.

He couldn’t help but feel blessed.

Sending his younger son with Lu Qing on that journey—perhaps the wisest decision he’d ever made.

Since returning from Zhong Zhou, Zi An had transformed.

Not only had his cultivation soared—now deep in the Inner Organs Initial Realm, close to Minor Completion—it was his mind that had changed.

He was mature, composed, capable of handling responsibility.

That calm, rational speech?

Impossible just six months ago.

“Zi An,” Wei Xinghe said, “you’re right. We should consult Lu Xiao Langjun first. But today is his feast. We shouldn’t spoil the mood.”

“Then after the banquet,” he added, “we’ll speak with him.”

“But Father… what about Brother Zihao?” Wei Zian hesitated. “He’s been hiding for two months. What if something happens?”

“Two months have passed,” Wei Xinghe said gently. “He’s chosen to stay in Zhou Fu for a reason. He knows his own danger. And you’re right—my sudden appearance might only make things worse.”

He stood. “Come. Lu Xiao Langjun invited us. It’s time.”

When Wei Xinghe and his party arrived at the Lu family courtyard, Lu Qing had just finished the last of the cooking.

“Lu Xiao Langjun,” Wei Xinghe greeted.

“Wei Family Head. You’re here. Sit down. Dinner’s almost ready.” Lu Qing waved. “Xiao Yan, take them to Master’s room.”

A moment later, Xiao Yan burst out of the house.

“Auntie, come in! Chen Ye Ye and Wei Ye Ye are inside!”

“Ancestor is here?” Wei Xinghe blinked in surprise.

Since Wei Shanhai had received Lu Qing’s cultivation inheritance, he’d been rarely seen.

He vanished into the mountains, often vanished into the Half Mountain Small Courtyard, or disappeared altogether.

Wei Xinghe hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Yet here he was—attending a village feast.

Good news.

With the Ancestor present, Wei Xinghe felt a weight lift.

He wouldn’t have to search for him after dinner.

Inside the house, Wei Xinghe and the others took their seats.

Then Lu Qing lifted the lid on the main pot.

A wave of unbearable fragrance exploded from within—rich, savory, intoxicating.

“Mmm… so good!”

Every eye in the yard turned.

Then, Lu Qing scooped out bowl after bowl of crimson, glistening meat—each piece firm, wobbling with perfect elasticity, glistening with oil.

The villagers stared, mouths agape.

Even Wei Xinghe, a man who’d dined on the finest meats in the land, felt his stomach growl.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end