Essence Devouring Art

"Hey, hey, hey! Get out of here, you little Funeral Star! This is no place for you."

Wu Dao’s entrance into the tavern merely caused the waiter to marvel at his imposing physique. But the sight of Mo Chen trailing behind him made the waiter scowl in disgust and wave him away.

"Niu Er, what’s your problem? This young master is with my Uncle Wu. Watch out, or my uncle will beat you up!"

Faced with the waiter’s snobbery, Mo Chen once again displayed his fiery spirit, acting tough with Wu Dao backing him up.

"Heh, a turtle yawning—what big... Fine. For today, I, Niu Er, will serve a young master like you for once."

Niu Er instinctively wanted to retort with a sharp jab of his own.

But after Wu Dao gave him a single, indifferent glance from his dark eyes, he choked back his words. He just muttered a few sarcastic remarks at Mo Chen before going to clean a table.

Clearly, he was just a pragmatic, ordinary man.

"Sir, what would you like to eat? Our little establishment may be humble, but our chef’s skills are second to none."

Seeing Wu Dao’s extraordinary air and unfamiliar face, the portly Shopkeeper behind the counter immediately thought of the group of ’big spenders’ who had arrived in Dragon Gate Town that day. His small eyes lit up as he hurried out to greet them with a beaming smile.

"A pot of plain tea."

Wu Dao took a half-foot-long Golden Leaf, which he had prepared earlier, from his robes and tossed it to the portly Shopkeeper. "A pot of tea," he ordered, then turned to Mo Chen. "Order whatever you want to eat."

"Aiyo! Sir, you’re like my own father!"

The portly Shopkeeper wiped his eyes, then bit down on the Golden Leaf in his hand. The familiar texture, a taste he hadn’t experienced in years, instantly brought tears to his eyes. He almost fell to his knees before Wu Dao.

"Uncle Wu... this... this is too much!"

Mo Chen, on the other hand, felt his heart bleed as he stared at the Golden Leaf. It was so big, so thick—enough to buy this entire tavern, and he was just using it for a single meal?

’This is too extravagant!’

If Wu Dao weren’t so domineering and cold, and if their personalities hadn’t clashed, he would have wanted to acknowledge him as his real uncle right then and there.

"Quickly."

Wu Dao simply gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

He didn’t think it was a big deal.

For a Great Divine Power User from the outside world, being able to create a Gold and Silver Mountain at will and viewing gold and silver as dirt was no exaggeration.

"Hehe, Master Mo, what would you like to eat? As long as our little shop has it, just say the word."

Having received such a huge windfall for nothing, the portly Shopkeeper was in high spirits. He no longer found Mo Chen so unsightly and asked his order politely.

’It’s true what they say, money makes the world go ’round.’

Mo Chen grumbled internally. Usually, whenever he passed by, the Shopkeeper would greet him with a cold glare. When had he ever been treated with such courtesy?

But then, he cast politeness aside and ordered every single one of the tavern’s signature dishes, as if trying to get Wu Dao’s money’s worth.

"Heh, you little rascal!"

Seeing Mo Chen order so many dishes, the portly Shopkeeper chuckled and cursed playfully. He didn’t mind, though, and turned to relay the order to the kitchen with a cheerful laugh.

A short while later, the plain tea arrived first.

Wu Dao poured a cup and took a small sip. Seeing Mo Chen swallowing dryly, he couldn’t help but say with an amused smile:

"Drink if you want. If I’m satisfied later, there will be a reward for you."

He could tell that Mo Chen had a tough exterior but a gentle heart.

His outward belligerence, his refusal to be taken advantage of, was just a layer of self-protection he had developed under the strange gazes of others.

After all, he’d been an ’orphan’ since he was a child.

If he were the type to meekly accept his fate and suffer in silence, there’s no telling how much he would have been bullied.

People like him often have a much stronger sense of self-respect than the average person.

Simply giving him charity would backfire. He would think others were looking down on him or pitying him. He might even assume you had ulterior motives, which would make it harder to get information out of him.

But making it clear that it was a reward was a different matter entirely.

"Hehe, thank you, Uncle Wu."

Sure enough, as soon as Wu Dao spoke, Mo Chen broke into a grin, much of his restraint and wariness melting away.

After downing several cups of tea in a row, Mo Chen let out a breath of relief and was about to ask Wu Dao where he was headed next.

But Wu Dao set down his teacup, his gaze drifting toward several children on the street who were making faces at Mo Chen. "Your ancestors weren’t originally from Dragon Gate Town, were they?" he asked casually.

"Huh?"

Mo Chen was taken aback by Wu Dao’s out-of-the-blue question. He then saw the children on the street making faces, and his expression dimmed. He shook his head with a bitter smile.

"You have good Eye Power, Uncle Wu. The Mo Family is indeed not native to Dragon Gate Town."

It seemed he had come to terms with it. Or perhaps it was no secret to begin with.

Taking advantage of the lull before the food arrived, Mo Chen briefly explained why he was so disliked in Dragon Gate Town.

The Mo Family.

They were indeed not native to Dragon Gate Town.

Eighteen years ago, as wealthy merchants, Father Mo and Mother Mo moved their family and their only son, Mo Chen, who had just turned one, into Dragon Gate Town.

It was from that moment on that Mo Chen’s reputation as a Funeral Star began to spread through Dragon Gate Town.

At age four, both his parents died.

The family business plummeted.

At age five, his elders also died one by one in various accidents.

He was left utterly destitute.

At age ten, his only remaining grandmother passed away.

Only a lonely and helpless Mo Chen was left to struggle for survival in the small town.

If not for a few elders—cold on the outside but warm on the inside—who helped him out from time to time, he might have starved to death one cold winter long ago.

However, although he had stubbornly survived, he could never shake off the reputation of being a Funeral Star.

From the age of ten, Mo Chen became an orphan in every sense of the word. No one was willing to get close to him, afraid of catching his bad luck.

Under the guidance of their elders, the more sensible children his age simply ostracized and avoided him. The less sensible ones openly mocked and ridiculed him for their own amusement.

Over the next eight years, Mo Chen went from having an initial inferiority complex, cowardice, and self-doubt to gradually growing accustomed to the loneliness and malice from the outside world. He was not crushed by his hardships. Instead, his mind matured and he became more cheerful. He learned to be independent and strong, and he understood that blind forbearance would only encourage others to become more ruthless.