The storyteller's voice rose and fell with dramatic flair, captivating his audience with a tale of True Martial defeating demons. It was clear he had amassed a loyal following; as he concluded his performance, the room erupted in enthusiastic applause.
"Bravo! Mr. Liu from downstairs, reward Mr. Lin with 10 taels!"
"Excellent! Mr. Xu in the upper seats, reward Mr. Lin with 20 taels!"
"Mr. Bai from downstairs, a reward of 10 taels!"
The waiter's voice rang out, announcing the tips.
As it happened, the storyteller was a Mr. Lin, held in high esteem by his fans. Each storytelling session ended with a generous outpouring of gifts, providing him with a livelihood that was as vibrant as his stories.
Chen Guo felt a spark of inspiration. In a world where the average cultural level was so high, a storyteller like Mr. Lin was surely a member of the intellectual elite, privy to a wealth of knowledge. If he was to gather information, he would be the perfect starting point.
With a subtle gesture, Chen Guo summoned the waiter. "Waiter!"
"What may I do for you?" The waiter hurried over, eager to serve a patron as affluent as Chen Guo.
"May I tip this storyteller, Mr. Lin? What's his full name?" he inquired.
The waiter responded with a smile, "Anyone can tip Mr. Lin. His full name is Lin Qiwen, also known as Qiwen. Would you like to reward Mr. Lin?"
Chen Guo nodded, "Lin Qiwen has a remarkable talent. I wish to tip him."
"How much would you like to give?" the waiter asked.
"Let's make it 50 silver taels," Chen Guo declared, placing a hefty ingot of silver on the table.
The waiter's eyes widened in astonishment.
Fifty silver taels were no trifling sum; such an amount could sustain a family of five in Acomb for four to five years. To offer it as a mere tip was not just extravagant; it was as if the silver had been swept in by a gust of wind.
Typically, the storyteller's tips started at a modest 10 taels, with a generous merchant perhaps tipping up to 100 taels. In these hard times, when everyone struggled to make ends meet, who could afford to finance the arts so lavishly?
"Are you certain?" The waiter's voice wavered, his entire frame quivering.
He simply couldn't help it; he'd never laid eyes on such a fortune, nor had he seen anyone squander it so carelessly.
Clearly, a trip to Blue Star was in order—to witness firsthand how the wealthy shower their hosts with tips and avoid such naivety.
"Just tip him," Chen Guo said nonchalantly.
For him, the money might as well have been swept in by a strong breeze—spending it didn't cause him a twinge of regret.
"What name shall I use for you, sir?"
"Call me Lee Xiaoyao!"
"Attention everyone! Lord Lee from upstairs tips Mr. Lin fifty silver taels!"
The waiter's voice boomed through the establishment.
All eyes turned upward, focusing on the waiter and Chen Guo.
Chen Guo stood serene, his demeanor unshaken.
"Fifty silver taels! My, what a lavish young man!"
"Not even Wang Bancheng's heir would dare to be so reckless with money!"
"Talk about generous! Mr. Lin has struck gold, and I've seen something new today!"
The patrons buzzed with conversation, astonished by Chen Guo's generosity.
The storyteller, Lin Qiwen, was particularly dumbfounded, struggling to believe his own ears. It took him a moment to compose himself before he managed to stammer out, "My deepest thanks, Master Lee!"
Encountering such a major patron was an entirely different affair from the usual clientele; he owed him a personal expression of gratitude.
Upstairs, Chen Guo beckoned to the waiter, "Invite Mr. Lin up for a conversation. I have some inquiries for him."
"Just a moment," the waiter replied.
The big spender calls the shots. Having laid out such a sum, he certainly earned the privilege of a private audience with Lin Qiwen.
Lin Qiwen wasted no time in posturing. Before a benefactor of this caliber, he had no place for pretense.
Shortly thereafter, Lin Qiwen ascended the stairs and faced Chen Guo, examining him closely.
Chen Guo offered a slight smile and reassured him, "You needn't scrutinize me. I'm a cultivator, much older than I appear to be. To me, worldly wealth might not be entirely worthless, but it's certainly akin to dirt. There's no need for astonishment!"
"Ah, a cultivator! They're a rare breed in today's world. What a surprise to encounter one on this day," Lin Qiwen remarked, his eyes alight with intrigue.
Chen Guo remarked, "I've been cultivating in the secluded mountains for quite some time, far removed from worldly affairs, so I'm not exactly up to date on current events. You're a storyteller, aren't you? You must be someone who's in the know, right?"
Lin Qiwen responded, "I have a general understanding of most world news, though I must admit I'm not privy to all the intricacies. It's more like grasping at shadows than holding onto substance, so take my words with a grain of salt."
Chen Guo said, "I'm only looking for some basic information. Please, have a seat, and let's have a glass of wine together."
Pleased, Lin Qiwen took his seat. The spread on Chen Guo's table was lavish, and he knew he was getting quite the treat. His benefactor was indeed generous!
"Which country does Acomb belong to?"
"How many countries are there in the world?"
"What about sects?"
"What has been the state of humanity since the catastrophe a hundred years ago?"
Chen Guo inquired about various matters.
Lin Qiwen, though taken aback by Chen Guo's apparent lack of knowledge, didn't dare to question him further; money talks, after all. He answered each question with due diligence.
And so, the mysterious backdrop of this world began to unfold before Chen Guo.
This Little World was known as Klikune, purportedly created by the deity Pangu, and split into two empires: the East and the West.
The Western realm was known as the Ocean Billow Empire.
The Eastern realm was the Great Flood Empire.
Acomb was part of the Great Flood Empire. It used to be known as Heaven's Wall County, but after the disaster, it was reduced to a solitary city with a greatly diminished population.
A century prior, the world had been in a state of prosperity, with martial arts thriving and heroes like Lin Suzhen, the renowned Nanxia, emerging. Besides the flourishing of martial arts, there were also various sects of cultivators who upheld world peace, vanquishing demons and monsters, and leaving behind a tapestry of legends involving immortals and spirits.
Among the more notable sects were Mount Maoshan, Emei Sect, and others. They seldom engaged in mundane affairs, always transcending the ordinary, the true epitomes of mastery.
At that time, the Great Flood Empire was under the rule of Emperor Zhu Song, a monarch who ensured the nation's prosperity and the people's well-being. He was no despot, but rather a competent sovereign who maintained his legacy well.
In the 13th year of Zhu Song's reign, also known as the 13th year of the Zhiye era, the Heaven Supervising Bureau received a prophecy foretelling a catastrophic disaster that would bring about the end of the world. The emperor was urged to prepare for the impending doom.
After delivering the prophecy, the sorcerer succumbed to death, bleeding from all seven orifices. Zhu Song, however, dismissed the prediction as mere superstition, suspecting it was a ruse to incite public panic and that conspirators were plotting a rebellion.
As a result, Zhu Song not only neglected to take any precautions, but he also ordered the Imperial City to crack down on what he believed to be a major conspiracy. Tragically, the prophesied disaster did indeed strike. Meteorites plummeted to earth, floods surged to unimaginable heights, volcanoes erupted, and earthquakes shook the ground. Locusts swarmed, blizzards raged, and mysterious explosions occurred, with natural disasters instilling fear in the hearts of all.
More horrifying still was the emergence of demons and monsters that ravaged humanity with a ferocity never seen before. The capital was decimated in a massacre led by an unparalleled demon, claiming the lives of the emperor and his officials. Amidst the chaos, only a handful of valiant cultivators managed to flee the city.