The next day.
The morning light was dim, and the city was just beginning to stir.
Several square tables, polished bright by tung oil, were already mostly occupied by diners.
There were laborers rising early for work, and idle old men carrying cages and walking birds.
Everyone sat around the tables, a large coarse porcelain bowl in front of each; in the bowls, the mutton soup was as white as milk, with emerald-green garlic sprouts floating on top, tumbling up and down with the rising steam.
A Man wearing short-sleeved work clothes, unafraid of the heat, picked up his bowl and took a large slurp, a satisfied expression appearing on his face.
He set down the bowl, wiped the grease from his mouth, but his gaze swept mysteriously over the others at the table.
"Did you all see it yesterday?"
The Man lowered his voice, his chopsticks pointing vaguely in the air: "My goodness... that display, in all my years of living, it was the first time I've seen it with my own eyes..."
Upon hearing this, everyone at the table stopped their chopsticks.
An old Man who was breaking apart a flatbread had a glint flash in his cloudy eyes as he chuckled: "You mean in the sky?"
"You bet!"
The Man grew excited, spit flying: "I was still delivering goods on the street at the time and saw it with my own eyes. It was a dense, black mass, as if the sky was about to collapse."
"I heard people say that group of outsiders intended to join forces to level our Chang'an."
A Young Man nearby who looked like a scholar snorted upon hearing this and set down his spoon.
"What immortals? They're nothing but a bunch of thuggish outsiders relying on their power to bully others."
"Usually, they run rampant in the streets, walking without looking where they're going and eating without paying. Do they really think this Great Tang is their own back garden?"
"Exactly!"
The Man slapped his thigh and said indignantly: "A few days ago, wasn't Third Brother Liu's leg broken by that group? Even the authorities didn't dare to intervene!"
"However..."
The Man changed his tone, a look of satisfaction appearing on his face, even tinged with a bit of reflected glory.
"This time, they've really kicked a steel plate!"
"Was it Her Highness the Grand Princess who acted?"
The old Man narrowed his eyes, slowly and methodically putting the softened flatbread into his mouth.
"Indeed!"
The Man's face turned red with excitement: "What kind of figure is Her Highness the Grand Princess? Whether you're an immortal or a monster, if you dare to run wild in Chang'an, you'll have to leave your life behind!"
"I heard from my second grand-uncle who serves in the Demon Suppression Division that yesterday's battle, tsk tsk tsk..."
The Man clicked his tongue and said: "Those dozen or so people flying in the sky could all summon wind and rain, but the result? They were all wiped out by Her Highness the Grand Princess alone!"
"All killed?" The scholar found it somewhat hard to believe.
"All killed!"
The Man was resolute, swinging his palm down forcefully in a chopping gesture: "Not a single one left!"
Everyone gasped.
Although they didn't know what Realm those outsiders were in, nor did they understand anything about Dao Lineage or not.
In the eyes of these common folk, those who could fly in the sky were all people of great ability.
Yet such people of great ability, over a dozen of them gathered together, were actually slaughtered clean by the Grand Princess alone.
What kind of dominance was that?
"Well killed!"
The old Man swallowed his food: "A bunch of foreign barbarians... really thought my Great Tang had no one... now they know how formidable we are? Why didn't they realize it sooner?"
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Between their words, there was no longer the slightest fear of those outside Cultivators.
"Old Man Wang! Where's the bread? If you don't bring it soon, the soup will get cold!"
The Man, caught up in the conversation, felt his stomach was empty and couldn't help but shout toward the stove.
"Coming, coming! Are you trying to summon my soul?"
A vigorous shout came from behind the stove.
A white-haired old Man was seen, busy beyond belief.
This Old Man Wang had run a stall in the West Market for decades, relying on this one specialty—the Gold-Silver Sandwich.
The so-called Gold-Silver Sandwich was actually a freshly baked clay-oven roll, sliced open in the middle and stuffed with soft, flavorful steamed mutton face meat.
Old Man Wang didn't look up, his hands flying up and down over the kneading board.
The prepared dough seemed to have a life of its own in his hands.
He pinched off a piece, rubbed it in his palm, and it became a round ball.
A roll of the rolling pin pressed it into a thin sheet.
Then he spread a layer of his own homemade shortening and sprinkled a handful of finely chopped scallions and Sichuan pepper salt.
With a flick of his wrist, Old Man Wang rolled up the dough and pressed it flat.
This series of movements was smooth as flowing water, so fast it was dazzling.
The most amazing part was the baking skill.
He had his arms bare, seemingly unafraid of the scorching charcoal fire in the oven.
Supporting the flatbread with his palm, he pressed it against the red-hot inner wall of the hanging oven.
With a "sizzle."
The flatbread instantly adhered to the oven wall.
In just a short moment.
A rich, toasted aroma drifted out from the oven mouth, making everyone's mouths water.
Old Man Wang was quick-eyed and nimble-handed, reaching into the oven with his iron tongs.
With a gentle flick of his wrist.
A golden-brown, crispy flatbread, still sizzling with oil, landed steadily in the bamboo basket on the board.
Unafraid of the heat, he reached out and grabbed one, making a quick slash with his knife.
The steaming flatbread instantly opened its mouth.
Then, from the nearby braising pot, he fished out a piece of quivering mutton face meat, and with a few quick chops, sliced it thin and stuffed it all into the bread.
Finally, he drizzled on a spoonful of bright red chili oil.
"Catch!"
Old Man Wang tossed the finished Gold-Silver Sandwich onto a plate, and someone nearby quickly picked it up, jogging all the way to the Man's table.
The Man impatiently grabbed the flatbread and, regardless of the heat, took a huge bite.
The crispy crust shattered between his teeth, and the soft mutton and spicy juice exploded in his mouth.
The Man narrowed his eyes in satisfaction and let out a long breath of hot air.
"Comfortable!"
As he chewed, he mumbled indistinctly: "Actually, as long as I can still eat this flatbread, this life... is enough..."
Just at that moment.
Several figures stopped abruptly by the table without making a sound.
Leading them was a woman in a purple dress with a slender figure; she didn't mind the greasy and messy place, but simply called out with a smile to the busy figure behind the stove.
"Old Man, any seats left? Four bowls of soup, as much bread as you have, and cut the meat into large pieces."
"Please wait a moment, guests, coming right..."
The Man, who was eating with his mouth full of oil, felt someone bump into his back.
He turned his head somewhat impatiently.
With that turn.
The curses that were about to leave his mouth got stuck in his throat.
"Holy crap..."
A strange cry rang out like a clap of thunder on level ground.
This shout startled all the diners around who were buried in their soup.
Everyone instinctively looked up, their faces showing displeasure.
All this fuss.
Could it be they'd seen a ghost in broad daylight?
But when they looked in the direction of the Man's stunned gaze.
The previously noisy area instantly fell deathly silent.
Just a few steps away.
The woman in the purple dress was tilting her head with a smile.
Behind her stood a dark-faced Man as tall as an iron tower.
He was now looking sheepishly at the startled Man.
Clearly.
He was the one who had just bumped into him.
Beside them was a hunched old Man wearing an ill-suited long robe, with two prominent Dragon horns faintly visible.
And in the center of these people.
They were clustered around a young girl dressed in black robes.
The girl had a slender frame, and although her clothes were of a simple style, they couldn't hide her cold and aloof aura.
She just stood there quietly, saying nothing.
Her eyes were as calm as water, not looking at anyone, but staring at the large pot bubbling with steam.
Sensing everyone's gaze.
She frowned slightly and said in a low voice to the girl in purple: "Wei Qing... the taste of this shop had better be as good as you said..."