Under One Person: My Inner Realm Connects to All Worlds!

Chapter 17 Dashilan Deyun Club
Afterwards, Han Yun adjusted the time and restored his body to the size of a speck of dust. In this blessed land, he began to practice the two inheritances he had just obtained.

After an unknown amount of time, Han Yun's figure reappeared in the outside world, but only a brief moment had passed in the outside world.

A scalpel suddenly appeared in Han Yun's palm. Unlike his previous simple use of the knife, the scalpel now spun around in Han Yun's hand like a butterfly flitting among flowers.

The action looked extremely dangerous, but it somehow managed to cause Han Yun no harm whatsoever.

Then, Han Yun put down the scalpel, and with the innate Qi in his palm, he used it to draw a piece of white paper.

The white paper spun in Han Yun's palm, but it didn't touch his hand at all. It floated in mid-air. Then, Han Yun released his Qi from his palm, and the white paper was pierced by a sharp weapon and cut into pieces.

Then, under the control of Han Yun's palm energy, these fragments continued to rotate, like small white tornadoes, constantly being ground into finer and finer pieces.

Han Yun placed his other hand on the tornado formed by the shredded paper. Before long, the tornado was rolled into a ball, just like the one Tang Zongyi had demonstrated.

Northern Shaolin Cotton Palm Technique, done!

Han Yun's lips also curled into a smile at the opportune moment.

Withdrawing his palm and ending the exercise, the once perfectly good piece of white paper had now turned into a handful of shreds, smaller than ants, comparable to a paper shredder.

After the experiment, an indescribable fatigue immediately enveloped Han Yun.

During this time, he has been training hard in the indoor space. Although he doesn't need to eat or drink, he can't get rid of the mental fatigue.

All he wants now is to get a good night's sleep.

-----

The next morning, Han Yun got up, washed up, and headed to the Dashilan morning market. Since he was in Kyoto, he naturally had to try the local specialties.

As for why he chose Dashilan, it was because there was a place there that Han Yun decided to visit.

A large iron pot stands in front of the old Ciqikou Douzhi (fermented mung bean juice) shop, with bluish-gray douzhi bubbling away. The chef uses a long-handled copper ladle to stir the douzhi in the pot, and the unique sour and slightly rancid smell wafts far and wide.

Several elderly men sat on a bench, slurping down their fried dough rings, while glistening pickled mustard greens were piled high in a blue-rimmed bowl.

"Young man, would you like a bowl of authentic local cuisine?"

The owner lifted the wooden bucket next to him, revealing the brine at the bottom containing pickled radishes, and said, "The spicy pickled vegetable shreds that just arrived today, paired with freshly fried snails, taste absolutely amazing."

Han Yun smiled and waved as he walked forward, offering a word of advice: never try the fermented mung bean juice in Kyoto lightly. It has a sour and slightly rancid taste that only people with unique palates can truly stomach.

Even if I swallowed it, my entire esophagus felt like it had been soaked in a bucket of swill. I politely declined and decided to eat some human food instead.

Just then, Han Yun's nose was suddenly touched by a warm, sweet fragrance.

After walking a few steps, I came across a stall with a coal stove on a griddle. Golden sugar-coated pancakes were arranged on the griddle, and the melted brown sugar on the surface of the pancakes swelled into amber bubbles. With a deft flick of the spatula, the chef pulled out golden threads of syrup that shimmered in the morning light.

With a "crunch," a customer next to him bit into the crispy outer layer, panting heavily from the heat but refusing to let go. The melted brown sugar, combined with the golden-yellow pancake, looked incredibly tempting.

Han Yun ordered two. The sugar-coated pancakes, wrapped in oil paper, were very hot. The first bite revealed a crispy crust mixed with scalding hot syrup, and even the breath he exhaled was sweet.

Just around the corner is Baodu Feng's stall, with a large aluminum pot steaming hot on a stove made from a gasoline drum.

The chef used a strainer to rinse the tripe in boiling water. On the cutting board were seven or eight enamel bowls, each with sesame paste, cilantro, and minced garlic at the bottom. Han Yun sat down, and before long, a bowl of tripe was placed in front of him. The crisp and tender tripe slices were coated with red oil, and you could hear a "crunch" when you bit into them. The scalding hot broth mixed with sesame paste went down his throat, and the numbing and spicy sensation made his head throb.

The old man at the next table had just finished frying his sausages; the garlic sauce poured over them sizzled and the aroma of lard wafted over.

After wiping his mouth and finishing the tripe, Han Yun went to buy a bowl of millet flour tea soup to cleanse his palate. He noticed that the dragon spout of the large bronze teapot in the master's hand was emitting white steam.

Holding a bowl in the left hand and a kettle in the right, boiling water is poured precisely into the bowl from a height of three feet. The batter instantly solidifies into a starchy colloid, which is then sprinkled with brown sugar, raisins, and hawthorn cake pieces, and stirred with a wooden spoon.

Then, as he slurped, he heard shouts and calls from all around him.

"Freshly fried liver—"

"Braised pork offal with wheat cake and sliced ​​pork belly —"

"Free refills of water for your noodle porridge!"

After eating and drinking his fill, Han Yun arrived in front of a memorial archway.

Guangdelou!
It is also the location of one of the branch theaters of Deyun Society.

On the surface, they are crosstalk performers, but in reality, they are an unusual group of people. Many of them have been apprentices since childhood, growing up in the home of Guo Degang, the head of the Deyun Society.

From the outside, the process of recruiting apprentices appears to be very strict, but there is no specific standard.

In reality, from the perspective of the supernatural beings, they are recruiting people who can cultivate Qi. The supernatural beings' sects have always been strict in their succession, and they are only truly at ease with their sons and daughters.

Of course, it's also possible that the children have grown up, become independent, and want to go their own way, which is actually quite common in the sects of the supernatural.

Everyone knows that you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket, and many sects have branches and lineages.

Even Longhu Mountain has twenty-four subordinate administrative offices; otherwise, how could it be called a millennium-old sect, highlighting its profound heritage?

Han Yun didn't disturb anyone for the time being, and just like any other tourist, he bought a ticket to listen to the crosstalk performance.

The person performing on stage today is none other than Xiao Xiao, Guo Degang's beloved apprentice!
Inside Guangdelou, mahogany tables and chairs were neatly arranged, and the aroma of tea mixed with the roasted scent of melon seeds wafted in the air. Han Yun chose a seat on the second floor near the railing, where he could clearly see the performance on stage and have a panoramic view of the entire venue.

He took a sip of jasmine tea, but his gaze never left the stage.

The reason why Kyoto people love jasmine tea is that in the past, the well water in Kyoto was highly alkaline, bitter, and too hard to drink.

The rich aroma of jasmine tea effectively neutralizes the bitterness of water, and over time, this has been passed down through generations.

The audience below the stage chatted and laughed, the sound of cracking sunflower seeds rose and fell, and there were quite a few people making a fuss. No one noticed the faint trace of Qi at Han Yun's fingertips.

He concentrated a wisp of primordial Qi into the meridians of his ear, and amidst the noisy chatter, the backstage conversation came through clearly.

"Brother Xiao, how about we do 'On Teasing and Supporting' and 'Yellow Crane Tower' today?" the young voice asked.

"Done!" The voice was clear and slightly lazy; it must be Xiao Xiao.

(End of this chapter)