My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

He squinted, a faint smile on his face, as if he were basking in the sun, or perhaps listening to something others couldn't hear.

Lu Yang sat on the threshold, looking at the immortal master's appearance, feeling a strong urge to join in.

Having followed the immortal master for so long, he was used to seeing the immortal master slay demons and summon wind and rain, but he rarely saw him so leisurely.

He walked and stopped, stopped and walked, as if he had forgotten time, or as if time had forgotten him.

A'Luo came out of the house, carrying a basin of water, and was about to water the vegetables in the yard.

She saw Ye Qingfeng standing under the jujube tree, squinting, his head tilted slightly back, looking as content as an old cat basking in the sun.

She paused for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh.

"Master," she put down the basin of water and wiped her hands, "if you enjoy sunbathing, how about I brew you a pot of tea and you rest here for a while?"

Ye Qingfeng opened his eyes, glanced at her, and shook his head with a smile: "No need for that trouble."

As he spoke, he casually raised his right hand.

A Luo didn't see what he did, but she heard a rustling sound coming from under her feet.

She looked down and saw several tender green vines sprouting from the mud, like bean sprouts just emerging in spring, thin and soft, yet growing very fast.

In the blink of an eye, those vines grew to the thickness of a finger, intertwined, twisted together, growing upwards and branching out to the sides.

The top of the vines stretched out, becoming a flat, smooth tabletop with clear grain, as if an old carpenter had carefully planed it out.

A Luo opened her mouth, unable to speak.

The vines are still growing.

Once the tabletop was grown, it grew down from the edge, branching out into four twigs that curved into arcs and took root in the soil, standing firmly—four table legs, neither too high nor too low, just waist-high.

The whole table is alive; the leaves on the vines are still green, hanging one by one along the edge of the table like specially decorated tassels.

Not finished yet.

There was a loud "whoosh" sound overhead.

A Luo looked up and saw the branches of the old jujube tree by the wall move.

It wasn't the wind that was moving; the tree itself was moving.

The thickest branch slowly stretched out, like a person stretching, leisurely reaching towards the center of the yard.

The leaves on the branches were so dense that they perfectly blocked out the most glaring sunlight overhead.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering golden fragments on the ground, creating a beautiful, dappled effect.

Aro stood there, stunned.

Then she heard a "creaking" sound.

Looking down, I saw that several vines had sprouted out from beside the table.

This time it's not a long table, it's a long bench.

The vines intertwined, forming circles and arcs, weaving into the frame of a rocking chair.

New vines sprouted up, one by one, winding around and filling the gaps, weaving backrests, armrests, and footrests.

The rocking chair has a curved base, and when the wind blows, it sways gently with a "creak," as if it's greeting someone.

Aro's eyes widened, and her mouth remained open.

Lu Yang stood up from the threshold, walked to the rocking chair, and reached out to touch it.

The vines are still alive, and the leaves feel cool and slippery to the touch.

He sat down in the chair, and the rocking chair swayed, steadily supporting him.

He leaned back, the backrest pressing comfortably against his lower back, making him let out a soft "Ah!"

Miao Gui came out of the house and saw this scene; he almost dropped what he was holding.

He rubbed his eyes, then rubbed them again, to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

But soon he got used to it; after all, inns are grown, and growing a few tables and chairs is the simplest thing.

Shen Zhaoyue leaned against the door frame, holding a knife, her face expressionless.

She had seen even more powerful methods from the immortal masters, so these were nothing in her eyes.

Ye Qingfeng walked to the rattan table, raised his hand, and gently brushed the tabletop.

A Luo didn't see what he was holding in his hand, but she saw a small sapling suddenly appear on the table when his fingers brushed across it.

The sapling sprouted from the texture of the tabletop, tender green, with two leaves, like a newly sprouted bean sprout.

But it grew too fast, reaching a foot in height in the blink of an eye, sprouting branches and leaves, the leaves dense and glossy green.

The trunk has also thickened, and the bark is bluish-white with fine lines, as if someone had drawn it on stroke by stroke.

"This is..." Aro asked softly.

Ye Qingfeng did not answer. He reached out and plucked a few of the tenderest leaves from the sapling.

The leaves curled slightly at his fingertips, their color changing from light green to dark green, then from dark green to murky green, the edges slightly dry, emitting a faint fragrance.

It's the aroma of tea, not the smell of fresh leaves. It's the aroma of roasted, baked tea that's meant to be brewed.

A Luo sniffed, the fragrance entering her nose, refreshing and clean, like the morning mist in the mountains.

Ye Qingfeng put the tea leaves into the teapot on the table.

The teapot also grew from vines, with a round body, a curved spout, and a lid that fits tightly without any gaps.

He placed the tea leaves, raised his left hand, and gently beckoned into the distance.

A'luo didn't see anything in the distance, only a thin line of water flying from outside the village and passing through the courtyard wall.

It fell into the teapot.

The water stream was as thin as silk, yet it flowed continuously, making a clear, gurgling sound, like spring water jumping on rocks in a mountain stream.

The water is full.

Ye Qingfeng withdrew his hand, and the water line broke. The last drop fell onto the spout of the kettle with a "plop".

The teapot had no fire.

But smoke started coming out of the spout.

White steam billowed from the spout, wisps carrying the aroma of tea, even stronger than before.

A Luo took a deep breath, and the aroma filled her throat, warm and comforting, like drinking a sip of hot soup.

Lü Yang stood up from the rocking chair, walked to the table, and looked down at the teapot.

The spout was still smoking, but the body of the pot was neither red nor hot; it felt warm to the touch, just right not to burn your hand.

"Master," he swallowed, "this tea... is it drinkable now?"

Ye Qingfeng glanced at him but didn't say anything.

A Luo quickly brought out several teacups from the house and placed them on the table.

The cup was made of coarse porcelain and was her own personal cup. It was clean and spotless, but there was a small chip on the rim.

She arranged the cups, then suddenly felt a little embarrassed: "Master, I don't have any good cups here..."

Ye Qingfeng shook his head, picked up the teapot, and poured the first cup.

The tea soup is pale golden, clear and bright, and you can see the cracks at the bottom of the cup.

The steam rose from the rim of the cup, winding and turning, clearly visible in the sunlight.

He pushed the cup of tea towards Aro.

A Luo paused for a moment, then cupped the cup in both hands and took a sip.

When you taste the tea, it's slightly bitter at first, then a sweet sensation rises from under your tongue.

It went down my throat and into my stomach, warm and cozy, like holding a hand warmer in winter.

She let out a long sigh of relief, feeling lighter, as if she had been basking in the sun all day.

"It's delicious," she said, her voice softening.