Chapter 880: Chapter 521: Wine, the Old Confucian, the Mo Xia Sword, and Yourong’s Calligraphy (Part 2)
The sword spirit laughed warmly, "What thought?"
The young Confucian scholar’s tone was rare, refined, and polite:
"Even if I die, I’ll still land a punch on this old beast."
The sword spirit laughed heartily.
...
Soon, the brief exchange between Zhao Rong and Gui at Heart Lake was interrupted by the commotion outside...
Inside the bamboo grove courtyard, it was silent.
In front of the tea table, there was a young Confucian scholar, a middle-aged Confucian scholar, and an elderly Confucian scholar.
Some were sitting, and others were standing, making for an eerie atmosphere.
Not far from them, there was a girl wanting to turn her head and a trembling, crystalline small sword.
Frozen in place.
The former was strenuously narrowing her gaze at the elderly Confucian scholar who suddenly reached the Golden Core Realm.
The girl’s eyes brimmed with murderous intent and anger.
Only in the northern room was the boy focused on transcribing books, with the sound of his writing remaining constant as before.
In front of the courtyard table.
Right after Zhao Rong lowered his eyes, calmly nodded, and uttered a "thank you."
Qin Jianfu’s smile grew even wider.
Although his formerly dignified and elegant face had been disfigured by unimaginable flames, leaving a twisted mass of scars where even his smile was indistinct, the continuous ’heh heh’ from his throat proved his growing glee.
Zhao Rong seemed to ignore these external disturbances.
He lowered his eyelids, looking at the dishes on the table, lost in thought.
Neither Qin Jianfu nor Zhang Huizhi urged him, only watching him intently.
At some moment, the young Confucian scholar, sitting upright, pursed his lips lightly, leaned slightly forward, picked up a pair of wooden chopsticks, first rubbed them together between his palms, and then picked up a piece of spicy strip from the plate with the chopsticks, handing it into his mouth with his hand, and tasted it seriously.
The action was elegant and leisurely.
Neither hurried nor slow.
Qin Jianfu watched with interest, observing the young Confucian scholar seemingly delaying time for an ’accident.’
If that was his intention, Qin Jianfu would be even more pleased.
The elderly Confucian scholar, with one hand behind his back, extended a bony finger, pushing a nearly empty wine pot toward Zhao Rong.
"How does it taste?"
The old man chuckled.
Like a chef who carefully prepared a delicious dish for his guest, his tone and gaze were laced with an indescribable anticipation, watching his guest taste the meal.
Zhao Rong paused his chopsticks, looked up at him, slightly inhaled with his lips, and nodded.
Qin Jianfu smiled, nodding with satisfaction.
"Enjoy it."
The young Confucian scholar suddenly smiled a bit shyly, although he was quite unreserved with the wine pot in his hands, taking a bold swig.
This was a meal before execution, but...
Zhao Rong took a big gulp of wine, wiped his mouth, ceased his communication within a certain Heart Lake, then glanced at the wine and the side dishes, and couldn’t help but mutter a comment.
Indeed, our Confucian senior is so meticulous even in killing someone.
Quite like those villains who die after lengthy monologues.
However, to taste the familiar hometown specialty spicy strips in this world.
Hmm, in that sense, it’s not too much of a loss.
Just a little... not spicy enough.
The young Confucian scholar smiled, took a sip of wine.
Then, Zhao Rong picked up another spicy strip to taste, put down the chopsticks, slightly squinted, and with a look of lament, waved the wine pot in his hand towards the elderly Confucian scholar who was looking at him:
"The wine is spicy, it’s the taste of Sanbian brother’s hometown, but these spicy strips, your Dawei version isn’t quite right, it doesn’t have that flavor."
Qin Jianfu chuckled.
"Make do with it."
"Exactly."
Zhao Rong nodded.
There indeed wouldn’t be a next time.
Qin Jianfu watched him, his gaze calm, not at all impatient, with a hint of teasing deep in his eyes.
Zhang Huizhi held Zhao Rong’s scholar jade piece in his hand, turned to gaze at the scenery outside the courtyard, gripping a wine pot in his other hand.
Zhao Rong once again picked up the chopsticks, held them upright, tapped the table twice lightly to align them.
Preparing to finish off the remaining spicy strips.
Suddenly, as if something caught his peripheral vision, the young Confucian scholar couldn’t help but look in surprise behind Qin Jianfu.
Qin Jianfu wore a half-smile.
Stopping his chopsticks, Zhao Rong couldn’t resist pointing behind the old man, earnestly saying, "There really is someone, have a look if you don’t believe me."
The ’kind’ smile on Qin Jianfu’s disfigured face was cheerful as he nodded lightly before cooperating by turning his head.
Behind him, the courtyard was empty except for Zhao Qian’er, frozen in place, and her trembling, struggling life-bound flying sword, where was there anyone?
The old man glanced at the courtyard, his spiritual sense scanning a hundred miles around with nothing amiss, then turned back to Zhao Rong.
"Well, seems they left. Pity you didn’t check sooner."
The young Confucian scholar feigned a sigh, shrugged.
Finding an excuse to back down, after all, he too had his pride, no?
Qin Jianfu watched him quietly.
Childish antics.
Seemingly realizing the boredom in his action, Zhao Rong lowered his eyes, his chopsticks reaching again toward the plate’s spicy strips.
Watching him, Qin Jianfu pursed his lips and shook his head,
And at the exact moment the old man shook his head!
The entire bamboo grove courtyard underwent radical change, abnormal phenomena erupted.
Behind the disfigured old Confucian scholar, a girl turned, bringing together two delicate fingers, slashing diagonally but straightly through the air from right to left towards the old man’s retreating back.
A snow-white sword energy belonging to the seventh realm ink knight.
Soared skyward.
In an instant, the sword energy condensed into a slender, snow-white line, locking onto the Golden Core Realm Confucian scholar’s energy, slicing obliquely and straight at his hunched back.
This sword energy tore through space, so fast that it lost all sound in the air.
From afar, it looked like a child casually swung a wooden sword, creating a straight sword mark, silent and traceless.
However, only those facing it, locked onto by its energy, could truly feel the terrifying might exclusive to the seventh realm expert.
The ’snow-white line’ seemed the next second it would rip through Qin Jianfu’s hunched back.
The entire scene’s air froze.
"He he..."
And at that moment, a faint laugh sounded softly.
Accompanied by some coughing.
Suddenly, the light in the courtyard dimmed.
Restored once more to its previous quietude.
The snow-white line disappeared.
This seventh realm ink knight sword energy that Zhao Qian’er swung, enough to make even Nascent Soul Realm cultivators tremble...
Disappeared.
The disfigured old Confucian scholar’s back remained there.
Unharmed, not even a strand of hair disturbed.
At this moment, the old man lowered his head, chuckling.
His laughter grew from deep to hoarse.
Growing louder and louder.
"He he he he... hahaha... cough cough cough..."
In his hand, which previously grasped the opium pipe behind him.
Unknowingly, a small gray tobacco pouch had appeared.
Originally, after swallowing the Golden Core from it, it had been put back, always dangling from the opium pipe.
And now, in this moment, the tobacco pouch was open, with its pinky-sized diameter mouth quietly resting on the old man’s withered palm.
The entire scene fell silent.
Under gazes of shock and despair,
This seemingly ordinary tobacco pouch slowly closed, and those remaining wisps of snow-white sword energy swirling at the mouth, ultimately, with its closure, completely dissipated...
"How... how is this possible."
An almost assured winning coup had been quietly and effortlessly undone.
Zhao Qian’er, who took a step back in disbelief, murmured with indescribable astonishment and endless bewilderment.
The girl’s young heart sunk infinitely.
This flawless collaboration had failed, and the young Confucian scholar found his brow tightening as he glared at the old, gasping, and laughing disfigured Confucian scholar.
"Zhao Rong, there’s something wrong with this setup, something very wrong."
This isn’t solely about avenging Zhao Ziyu.
It’s that someone wants to kill him... them!
...