Chapter 77: Immortal Music Dance Hall

“Ain’t you see I’m busy?” Li Banfeng grumbled, sorting through newspapers.

“To save my beloved, I left home—how did I know I’d become Top Graduate? Oh, my lord, you read by candlelight all night—do you mean to take the Top Graduate exam?”

She could even sing Huangmei opera.

“I’m not here to take the Top Graduate exam—I’m here to see how many enemies I have.” Li Banfeng’s expression grew heavier with every page.

Hssss~

The phonograph spat a puff of steam.

The phonograph clattered twice, then sang in rhythm: “Enemies aren’t too many—one comes, my lord kills one; two come, he kills a pair. Don’t kill too hard—leave them breath, bring them home as dishes.”

“Wife, that’s exactly what I think,” Li Banfeng sat beside the phonograph, brushing his hand along the wooden cabinet’s side. “But my enemies’ cultivation bases tower above mine—hard to kill. If I can’t kill them, how will you find your dishes?”

Hssssss~

The phonograph laughed repeatedly.

Li Banfeng frowned. “What are you laughing at?”

“My lord, your hand’s on my armpit.”

Li Banfeng snatched his hand back immediately.

Was that spot the armpit?

What about the others?

Li Banfeng ran his hands over every inch of the cabinet; the phonograph giggled nonstop.

“Clatter-clatter-clatter~ My lord, don’t play around—listen to your humble wife: since you’re a Home Cultivator, stay indoors, keep me company, and your cultivation will come naturally!”

Doesn’t she know I’m a Traveling Cultivator?

Dark matter can’t be observed, making cultivation invisible.

The phonograph probably truly doesn’t know I’m a Traveling Cultivator.

Li Banfeng pulled out a purple elixir and asked: “Wife, I want to raise my cultivation fast—will this pill help?”

“From where, from where, from where to say~~” The phonograph sang, its lyrics stuttering.

“Wife, what’s wrong?” Li Banfeng asked, concerned.

“Husband, give your little servant some machine oil.”

Li Banfeng hurriedly lifted the oil bottle and opened the phonograph’s rear panel.

Inside, rods and gears were densely packed; the mechanical structure was complex. Li Banfeng didn’t know where to start, so he oiled everywhere with the oil can.

“Husband, that gear is vital—don’t skimp on the oil~~”

“Husband, that drain valve is crucial—don’t be reckless~~”

“Husband, that bearing needs extra care—be gentle, very gentle~~”

“Husband~~”

“Husband~~”

Minutes later, Li Banfeng sat on the bed, oil can in hand, voice calm: “Wife, speak plainly—I’m listening seriously.”

“Seriously? Why so serious?” Clatter-clatter~ The phonograph fell silent a moment. “My lord, what about these pants?”

“They need washing,” Li Banfeng whispered.

The phonograph released a puff of steam—slightly displeased, but dropped the pants: “Clatter-clatter-clatter~ Oh, my lord, this pill is called Purple Radiance Elixir. To ordinary people, it’s priceless; to you, it’s useless.”

“What do you mean?”

“To ordinary people, swallowing one pill equals one month’s cultivation.”

One month’s cultivation?

Li Banfeng’s heart clenched sharply.

One Xuan Chi Elixir grants ten days of cultivation and sells for 150,000.

This Purple Radiance Elixir gives a full month—how much could it sell for?

The point isn’t the money—eat a few more, and your cultivation will rise significantly!

But the phonograph sang: “Oh, my lord, you’re a Home Cultivator—your cultivation comes from mutual devotion with your wife. Pills won’t help!”

So Home Cultivators can’t take elixirs.

Ma Wu had said the same—Home Cultivators are unique; their cultivation relies entirely on Home Spirits.

“Since I can’t take it, give it to you, wife.” Li Banfeng moved to drop the pill into the phonograph’s water tank.

Huhhh~

A cloud of steam blocked him.

The phonograph chuckled twice.

“My lord, you’re so devoted, so tender to your humble servant—it overwhelms me,

Take this pill to the market and trade it for money. To others, it’s a treasure; to me, it’s no different from mud, sand, or broken tiles.”

What’s mud, sand, and broken tiles? This pill’s worth at least 500,000.

Li Banfeng snorted, tucked the pill away.

Then he thought—since it’s useless to Home Cultivators, could it help Traveling Cultivators?

Boosting a Traveling Cultivator’s base is still beneficial, isn’t it?

Don’t let wife see—find a chance later to swallow it.

Li Banfeng flipped through the newspapers again. Perhaps because he’d oiled the phonograph today, it was unusually attentive.

“Husband~ tell me about your enemies’ backgrounds?”

Li Banfeng introduced the Jiang Xiang Gang members: “One Wu Xiu Level Three, called Red Stick; one Ku Xiu Level Two, called Sage; one Level Two Yan Xiu, called Patrol Wind.”

Hssssss~

The phonograph laughed repeatedly: “Huh~ Red Stick handles fighting, Sage recognizes people, Patrol Wind keeps watch—after all these years, the rules of every gang remain unchanged.

My lord, don’t provoke the Wu Xiu Level Three—you can’t beat him in direct combat.

The Ku Xiu sect is unusual—it counters Home Cultivators. Stay far from him.

As for the Yan Xiu, don’t spare him. Though he’s Level Two, you still have the edge over him.”

This matched Li Banfeng’s own thoughts exactly.

Li Banfeng nodded: “I have Yin-Yang Eyes—I have some advantage over him. He’s my first target. But since he’s Level Two, direct combat still puts me at a disadvantage.”

“Oh, my lord, direct combat won’t do—you must first clear his little ghosts. Since he’s in the dance hall, I have a plan.”

“I’m all ears, wife.”

“My lord, lean closer!”

Li Banfeng pressed his ear to the horn as the phonograph softly sang “Song of the Wanderer”: “My lord~ buy a blank record, premium black vinyl, with a stiff needle.”

After listening, his ear burned red from the steam.

Stiff needle?

“Wife wants to engrave a record?” Li Banfeng understood the phonograph’s intent.

“Clatter-clatter~ My lord speaks wisely.”

Li Banfeng nodded, rubbing his red ear: “Only you and I are here—no one’s eavesdropping. Why whisper into my ear?”

The phonograph pouted: “Ear-to-ear closeness shows true marital affection~~”

…

The next noon, Li Banfeng went to Yuanzheng Street and bought a blank record and two stiff needles from a record shop.

Deep night, Li Banfeng donned a beige plaid suit and a gray top hat, arriving at the Immortal Music Dance Hall.

The Immortal Music Dance Hall was easy to find—at the end of Paifang Street, a vast open space filled with dance hall gardens, no other buildings nearby.

As a pure young man, Li Banfeng firmly believed the Immortal Music Dance Hall was a place for studying music.

The place did not disappoint him: a three-story pointed-roof Western-style building, brick-and-wood construction, blending Eastern and Western styles.

The first floor had straight, open lines; the second, rounded, soft contours with layered depth; the third, tapering sharply to a pointed peak, sharply defined.

Such an artistic building must be run legitimately.

Up the stone steps, before the arched entrance, two young women stepped forward to greet guests.

“Sir, this way—do you know any of the girls?”

Li Banfeng smiled faintly: “First time here.”

The two women blushed and led him into the hall.

They asked if he knew any girls—not because the business was improper; the girls might truly be studying music here.

Inside, candlelight dim, music flowing gently; several couples danced, tightly embraced on the red carpet.

Seeing them cling so closely, Li Banfeng assumed it was a normal expression of being lost in music.

His full attention was on the music—he searched for its source.

No orchestra was visible—where did the music come from?

Beside the stairs, Li Banfeng saw a massive phonograph; a man in a plain white suit slowly turned its crank.

It was a hand-crank phonograph—the tempo entirely controlled by the operator, demanding great skill.

Li Banfeng’s brow relaxed into a faint smile.

This was the phonograph he sought—without it, this trip would be wasted.

A woman approached, smiling sweetly: “Sir, would you like to dance?”

A lady inviting a man to dance was proper etiquette—he shouldn’t refuse.

But Li Banfeng’s lifelong upbringing forbade him from doing so.

Because he couldn't dance.

"I'm sorry, Miss, I can't dance," Li Banfeng replied honestly.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you," the woman said, taking Li Banfeng's hand and leading him to the center of the dance floor, guiding his arms to encircle her slender waist as they slowly stepped in time with the music.

Dancing wasn't hard—just hold tight and step along with the music. Li Banfeng was a traveling cultivator, and his steps were exceptionally steady.

She was a girl with a conscience, and that conscience pulsed in rhythm with the music against Li Banfeng's chest.

But if you're going to dance, don't keep groping all over me.

Li Banfeng's gaze never left the phonograph; he thought the phonograph was far more attractive than the girl.

PS: I think all you readers are the most attractive—go ahead and talk to Salara.

(End of Chapter)