Chapter 83: Mage

It was late at night, and very cold.

A man in a tattered suit staggered down the street.

His face was covered in bruises, and he was constantly pouring alcohol from a bottle into his mouth.

"Damn it! Damn it! Vincent! Screw you! You never treated me like a person!"

The man was none other than Willard Smith.

He had just been beaten by Vincent in front of everyone, completely losing face.

Willard Smith gulped down a large mouthful of alcohol, and scenes of trying to please Vincent flashed before his eyes.

"I've been your dog for so long, and you dare to hit me in front of so many people!"

"Isn't it just because you have a bureau chief sister? What are you worth?!"

Willard Smith had lived his life like a eunuch, all for that little bit of face.

Yet the most precious thing was the easiest to lose.

Many people knew he was Vincent's man, that Vincent was his support, and that Willard Smith was Vincent's sycophant.

Many people feared Willard Smith because of this.

But tonight...

The servant was publicly punished by the master, which hurt the most.

After tonight, he would be the laughingstock of the entire Bluewater City!

Willard Smith drank until he was drunk, behaving like a lunatic on the street.

Passersby cast frequent glances at him.

Willard Smith threw his empty bottle and cursed angrily:

"Are you looking at me? Screw you! I'm the director of the East District Security Bureau! Look again and I'll arrest you!"

Passersby didn't believe that such a drunkard was the director of the security bureau, and they didn't want to lower themselves to the level of a drunk, so they quickly dispersed.

Willard Smith continued to drink, making his way home.

Little did he know, a grand performance prepared specifically for him awaited his arrival on the path home.

In the abandoned park.

Willard Smith's drunkenness kicked in.

He couldn't support himself and sat down on a dilapidated bench, rubbing his temples.

A melodious and aged singing voice came from afar.

"People come and go, nowhere to rest, don't ask where home is.Wherever you go, it's fine, everywhere in the world is filled with the fragrance of flowers.Even if there are countless noble houses in the world, they can't compare to an old man's pot of wine.Let the gentle breeze accompany me, in this life I seek to roam free.If I can't become an immortal, I'll be at peace as I let my soul be!"

Willard Smith rubbed his bleary eyes.

He saw an old man in tattered Taoist robes wobbling toward him.

The old man in the Taoist robe stopped in front of Willard Smith.

His old eyes greedily looked at the wine bottle in Willard Smith's hand:

"Little friend, could you spare me some wine? I can repay you with a bit of immortality!"

Willard Smith irritably waved his hand:

"Get lost, you old beggar! Go beg somewhere else!"

The old Taoist was taken aback for a moment, then let out a strange laugh:

"Hehehe! I like your personality! How about becoming my disciple?"

Willard Smith replied, "Go to hell."

The old Taoist shook his head and sighed:

"Seeing your outstanding talent, I thought you might have a chance at immortality.

So be it, we are fated to be apart!"

The old Taoist sighed, singing as he swayed away.

Willard Smith was utterly speechless, mumbling, "Idiot."

At that moment, twelve figures suddenly sprang out from the woods behind Willard Smith.

Startled, Willard Smith sobered up. Were his enemies here to take revenge?

He hurriedly hid under the bench, covering his head.

After thinking for a moment, he realized it didn't make sense!

Since he became the Northern District director, he hadn't even dared to arrest a criminal; how could he have made enemies?

Where would he have enemies? Why was he hiding?

Once he cleared his mind, Willard Smith bravely poked his head out and scrutinized the figures.

They were wearing masks, each exuding a strong aura of spirit energy and radiating powerful extraordinary abilities.

Masters!

All of them were masters!

The masked figures rushed past the bench where Willard Smith was sitting and headed toward the old Taoist.

In less than a moment, they surrounded the old Taoist.

The old Taoist sighed:

"Alas! You found me after all!"

The leading masked figure said coldly:

"Tiansui Daoist, how can you have the face to live in this world after betraying the guild!"

The old Taoist shook his head and replied softly:

"I follow the heavens as my age, and so I shall live long!

We cultivators shouldn't be bound by the mundane world!"

Willard Smith, who was watching from a distance, was shocked.

Tiansui Daoist? Following the heavens as his age?

Am I dreaming?

Is there really such a thing as cultivators in this world?

The masked figure shouted sternly:

"Are you not afraid of the guild master's punishment?!"

The old Taoist sneered:

"How could the guild master care about a small character like me?

But you, a bunch of low-level hunters, think you can suppress me?!

High-level hunters would be a different story!"

Willard Smith felt knowledge entering his mind in a strange way.

Guild master? Hunters? High-level hunters?

This sounds impressive! If these low-level hunters are this formidable, how strong must the guild master be?

The masked figures felt insulted and shouted angrily: "Die!"

The twelve masked figures showcased their powers.

Some transformed their arms into blades, others summoned wind blades with a flick of their hands, and some transformed into a giraffe beastman.

Willard Smith, with his considerable experience, recognized that they were all C-rank experts!

The twelve masked figures charged at the old Taoist, intent on tearing him apart!

These were twelve C-rank fighters, a significant force anywhere!

Yet the old Taoist remained calm and took a sip of wine.

His body began to undergo a transformation.

Soon, the old Taoist's skin turned pale, and his eyes became dull; he no longer looked like a celestial figure, but rather like a corpse!

It was as if he was using some sort of dark art!

Suddenly, the old Taoist struck out, seemingly using invisible power to engage the twelve.

In just a few minutes, the twelve could not withstand him and were quickly defeated!

The leading masked figure clutched his chest, seemingly gravely injured.

He looked at the old Taoist in disbelief: "You, you, you succeeded?"

The old Taoist's eyes gleamed with madness as he laughed wildly: "Falling into the demonic path today is not my intention!

I only blame the difficulty of attaining immortality; I can only seek longevity!

Considering you all share a bond with me, I won't kill you!"

The leading masked figure cast a reluctant glance at the old Taoist, gritting his teeth: "Retreat!"

The twelve masked figures arrived quickly and left just as swiftly, vanishing from the park in no time.

The old Taoist sighed deeply, his body returning to normal, his murky old eyes filled with indescribable melancholy.

"Alas! Becoming an immortal is so difficult!

In this world, such worldly affairs can shatter my lifelong dream of immortality!"

The old Taoist took a gourd from his waist and poured it into his mouth, but nothing came out.

The old Taoist self-mockingly said: "Ha, the wine is gone too."

After saying this, he staggered away into the darkness.

Willard Smith's mouth fell open wide, still stunned by the shock.

Is there really someone who can cultivate immortality?

Cultivation isn't just in novels!

That old Taoist, though his extraordinary energy didn't seem stronger than his own, was able to defeat twelve C-rank fighters!

This must be the power of a cultivator!

Didn't that old Taoist say he wanted to take me as his disciple?

Could it be that I can cultivate immortality too?

Forget about cultivating immortality; I'd be fine with cultivating demonic powers!

Did you see how fierce that old Taoist was after becoming demonic?

He chased off those twelve C-rank fighters with just a few moves!

Willard Smith's palms began to sweat; he felt a tremendous opportunity was right in front of him!

He quickly crawled out from under the bench, grabbed the half-finished bottle of alcohol, and chased after the old Taoist.

"Master! Master!"

The old Taoist turned around, looking at Willard Smith with a half-smile: "Who's your master? Don't call me that randomly."

Willard Smith suddenly knelt on the ground, holding the half-bottle of liquor high in both hands, and shouted loudly:

"It's my fault for not recognizing the talent of my master! Please, master, take me as your disciple and teach me to cultivate!"

The old Taoist shook his head: "You just rejected me, and I won't take you back."

Willard Smith wanted to slap himself; he was filled with regret!

He noticed the old Taoist's eyes were fixed on the liquor in his hand.

Willard Smith hurriedly said: "I will definitely respect and honor my master! The wine is entirely for you to enjoy!"

The old Taoist's eyes lit up: "Good disciple! What did you say about giving it all to your master? Come, let's sit aside and talk!"

Willard Smith: "???"

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