王狗子被那帮老家伙的眼神看得直发毛，腆着个脸道：“俺……俺没踢人，就是看这地方破破烂烂的，心里不痛快。”他心里把那茶馆里的老头们骂了一百遍，要不是身上还有点要紧事，他真不想在这鸟不拉屎的地方浪费时间。

“哼，嘴硬！”一个须发皆白的老家伙随手抄起桌上的茶壶，作势就要砸下来，“再不服老，今天就让你躺几天！”

王狗子吓得亡魂皆冒，连忙摆手：“别别别，老头，俺服了，俺这就滚。”

他磨磨蹭蹭地往外走，心里把那个该死的师门门槛思量了千百遍。他师门就剩下他师父一个传人了，可这师父放荡不羁，你说他上个月在江南瘸腿帮的地盘上喝高了，他说要跟那帮瘸子比划比划，结果把人家三当家给废了。

这事儿传回来，师门里那帮老顽固都急眼了，说是捅了马蜂窝，让王狗子去找师父，把这事给摆平。

王狗子一打听才知道，师父最近又跑去找那个自称“剑仙”的神秘人厮混去了。这“剑仙”二字， Compounded with the reputation of the sword immortal, gave people a distant and mysterious feeling, but in Wang Guozi's heart, it was just an old dodger who liked to show off.

He wandered into a small town near the mountain pass, and found a tavern while looking for clues. The tavern was filled with the sound of clinking wine glasses and boisterous laughter. Wang Guozi pushed open the door and found a group of tough-looking men sitting at the counter, all glaring at him.

"Hey, you, what do you want?" one of them growled, pulling out a pair of daggers.