[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-douluo-the-exiled-immortal-descends-sword-and-wi":3,"chapter-douluo-the-exiled-immortal-descends-sword-and-wi-douluo-the-exiled-immortal-descends-sword-and-wi-chapter-188":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Douluo: The Exiled Immortal Descends, Sword and Wine Slay the Gods",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1550653,2014,"Chapter 188 - 188 — The Youth, the Storyteller, and the Heaven Dou Spirit Master: Even Li Zhexian Couldn’t Understand the Old Man’s Persistence","douluo-the-exiled-immortal-descends-sword-and-wi-chapter-188",188,"\u003Cp>Li Zhexian led his Chasing Wind Horse,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and stopped before a shabby little storytelling stall on the corner of the street.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under the rickety shelter stood a few long benches,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>with only a handful of scattered listeners sitting in silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The storyteller had grown even older.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His once-blue robe had been washed to a faded white,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>hanging loosely on his frail frame—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>as though a single gust of wind might blow him away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only his eyes still burned brightly in the dim yellow dusk,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>like the last glowing ember in a dying coal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clap—!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The clapper board struck the one-legged table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His voice was hoarse, but every word hit the ground like iron:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Esteemed listeners, lend an ear to today's story—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>'Sword Wine Righteously Slays the Golden Generation, the Pope's Blood Stains the Spirit Hall!'\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It is said that day, Li Zhexian came in robes whiter than snow,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>with a Qinglian Sword three feet long hanging at his waist…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The cadence was that of an old hand of the trade —\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>slick and steady, yet carrying a fierce edge beneath it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whether he had truly witnessed the events himself,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>or had simply told the story a thousand times,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the details were vivid,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and the killing intent sharp enough to chill the bones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian listened quietly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A hundred emotions welled in his chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bittersweet joy of meeting a familiar voice in a faraway land—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and the stirring of old memories,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>long buried, now revived through the story.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His throat tightened;\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>he could barely swallow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now he understood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now he understood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was this old friend,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>who had spread word of his \"death\",\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>helping to lessen the Spirit Hall's suspicion and pursuit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So it was the storyteller of Heaven Dou City.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking at that deeply lined, weathered face,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian could easily imagine\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>how many years this old man had kept retelling the same story.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He drew a long breath—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>his voice trembling ever so slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had endured the cutting winds of the Extreme North for a year and a half,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>clinging on for the sake of the girl sleeping beneath the Lake of Life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even so—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>he had to admit:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the northern wind and snow were damnably cold to the bone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this storyteller before him…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian could not fathom it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What strength, what conviction,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>kept this frail old man wandering all the way to this desolate border town,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and stubbornly continuing to tell his story?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind the old man stood\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>a dark-skinned middle-aged man in a tattered Spirit Master robe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While the storyteller rasped and shouted till his voice cracked,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the man silently poured tea beside him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The few listeners under the stall\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>spent more time staring at that torn Spirit Master robe\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>than listening to the story itself —\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>for here, that robe drew more eyes than any legend could.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This Twilight Town was never meant to be a place for storytelling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People came and went; few ever stayed to listen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under the stall roof, there were always only a few scattered figures.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet, the old man stood firm behind his one-legged elm table,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>slapping his half-frayed clapper with careful precision.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clap—!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The clapper struck again,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>its echo rippling through the empty air.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And thus, dear listeners—\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—\"The Holy Mountain once held a crown, but blood stained the old banner; wind and snow bury the hero's bone, leaving only laughter and stories for the jianghu!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When his voice faded,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the air turned cold enough to freeze breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a long silence,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>a few lazy claps broke out—two, maybe three.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The audience on the benches yawned, got up, and muttered as they left:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Tch, what kind of nonsense is that?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Li Zhexian? That mangy dog hunted across the continent by the Spirit Hall?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You say he struck down the Pope? Dream on!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hmph! He's lucky this backwater doesn't worship the Spirit Hall—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>if he told that story in a big city,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>they'd have beaten him to death with sticks!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…Sigh.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The storyteller hunched his shoulders, letting out a long breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Spirit Master from Heaven Dou silently packed their meager belongings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such sneers and spittle—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>they had endured for nearly two years now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Tomorrow,\" the old man rasped,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"tomorrow will be our last day telling stories here in Twilight Town.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There are still a few who haven't heard it through.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…Alright.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Spirit Master murmured in reply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dusk deepened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lantern hanging outside the tea stall swayed,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>casting a faint, yellow light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A cough rattled in the old man's throat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His eyes drifted toward the small copper dish on the corner of the table—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>inside lay only three coins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave a dry chuckle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two of those coins,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>he himself had dropped in earlier,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>just to make the place look less pitiful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pulled his threadbare sleeves tighter,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>about to pack up and leave—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>when suddenly,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>he noticed someone standing just beyond the stall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At some point,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>a young man in black had appeared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His straw hat was pulled low,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>shadowing half his face;\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>only a sharp brow and a thin scar trailing from its edge were visible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A neat ponytail at his back,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and an air that warned strangers to stay away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The storyteller, a man who had lived off the streets of the jianghu,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>had an eye trained to read people at a glance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And with one look, his heart gave a sudden jolt—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the young swordsmen of old stories,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>those who lived and died by vengeance and honor,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>had this very bearing, this very face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young man in black walked straight toward him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Heaven Dou Spirit Masterbeside the old man instinctively stepped forward,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>shielding him, eyes tense with caution.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the youth only bent down silently,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>helping them pack up the stall without a word.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Spirit Master's tense shoulders relaxed a little.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Old sir,\" the youth said at last,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"your story was… true to the heart.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Oh?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the first time in a long while,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the wrinkles on the old man's face eased,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and a faint warmth lit his expression.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"For those words, young man,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>this old one will buy you a bowl of noodles—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>would you do me the honor?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian paused for a breath,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>then nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Thank you… I'd be honored.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The greasy square table wobbled beneath three bowls of plain noodles—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>broth thin as water,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>with only a few lonely drops of oil and a scatter of green onions floating on top.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The storyteller lifted his coarse porcelain bowl in both hands,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>his rough fingers rubbing the rim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The faint warmth rising from the broth misted his dry eyes,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>making them sting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked across the table at the young man before him,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and sighed softly—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>his voice mingled with the steam of the noodles,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>unclear whether he spoke to Li Zhexian or to himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Old as I am,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I've been telling the story of Lord Sword Wine\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>for over a year and a half now…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You're the first, in half a month,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>to call it true.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He slurped a mouthful of broth before continuing,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>his voice hoarse but steady:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Spirit Hall's power blots out the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An old man like me can't make a dent in that.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"But still, I think—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>if I can do even a little,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>then it's something.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If in the stories that wander the Jianghu someday,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>there can be two true words, two kind words,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>about Lord Sword Wine—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>then all this… will not have been for nothing.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Oh, Lord Sword Wine—\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>he added with a faint smile,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"that's the man from my stories…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He paused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And for a moment,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>his cloudy eyes glimmered with light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Each time Lord Sword Wine finished listening to me,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>he would toss me a gold coin—just like that.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The gleam of it…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I'll never forget it my whole life.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian's fingers tightened around his chopsticks,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the knuckles whitening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gaze dropped,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the shadow of his hat hiding his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only his movements slowed,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>each lift of noodles heavier than before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old man kept speaking softly, unaware.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian suddenly said,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Old sir—could you hand me the chili oil?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Spirit Master rose to fetch it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The storyteller turned his head out of habit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In that instant—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian still kept his head bowed over his bowl.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tip of his chopsticks tapped lightly against the rim—once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No sound, no flash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet two faint traces of sword intent flickered unseen across the table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before anyone noticed,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>two spiritual herbs, glimmering faintly with energy, appeared suspended above the storytellers and Spirit Master's bowls.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Threads of sword qi finer than hair wove around them—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and in the blink of an eye,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the herbs were ground to dust,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>falling evenly into the two bowls of thin noodle soup.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian had taken only what he needed from those herbs—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>he had long since returned the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well to Dugu Bo,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and taught the old poison master how to use it properly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With luck, that eccentric old man might one day reach the threshold of the Heaven's Spine Martial Tournament.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crescent moon sank low,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>cold seeping through the seams of his robes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the noodles were finished,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Zhexian rose to leave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After walking a dozen steps,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>he paused,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>turning his face slightly—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the shadow of the straw hat veiled his expression.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His voice was quiet,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>yet it cut clearly through the bleak wind:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Old sir…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>when next we meet—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>let us share a drink.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wind moaned through the alley.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The storyteller, half-deaf from years of shouting,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>seemed not to have heard clearly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He called to the Spirit Master to pack their things,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>his hand brushing the edge of the crippled table—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>and his fingers struck something cold and hard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A gold coin lay there,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>gleaming softly in the pale moonlight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The light dazzled his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>",1652,"2026-06-06T07:17:02.445Z",1,"novelbin.me","da634fe0f6d920c58c86ece2e89030289a904611c3da13e192db3cb3004700c6","douluo-the-exiled-immortal-descends-sword-and-wi-chapter-189","douluo-the-exiled-immortal-descends-sword-and-wi-chapter-187",442,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fdouluo-the-exiled-immortal-descends-sword-and-wi-cover.jpg"]