Chapter 881: Chapter 522: Wine, the Old Confucian, the Mo Xia Sword, and Yourong’s Calligraphy (Part 3)
"Who is behind you? Who gave you these things?"
Zhao Rong abruptly raised his head, his gaze fixed directly on the Confucian scholar whose smile was growing increasingly maniacal.
His eyes were as sharp as a sword’s edge.
The old man’s appearance was now nothing like the distinguished figure Zhao Rong remembered.
Half a year ago on Vermilion Bird Street, he saw this Confucian scholar dressed in splendid attire, standing grand and solemn.
But now, he was disfigured, hunched, and looked wretchedly sinister.
Whatever trials and tribulations he had faced were unknown, but the old man now carried an unknown Fourth Grade Golden Core and a mysterious tobacco pouch, perhaps even other hidden tricks.
It seemed he was solely out for revenge against him...
Qin Jianfu did not respond to the remark.
He quietly reattached the gray pouch to his copper tobacco pipe.
Behind him, the beautiful young girl and her Flying Sword, which had been about to attack, were once again immobilized as if under an Immobilization Spell.
The greatest trump card the girl had to turn the tide had already been deceived out of her, so the old man didn’t need to deliberately expose a flaw again.
Moreover, it was indeed as ’that person’ had jested, that this pretty girl following Zhao Rong truly carried something that could annihilate him.
Too bad everything was under the control of the ’that person’ who gave him the pouch and the Golden Core.
Upon thinking this, the maniacal smile that had been plastered on the disfigured old Confucian scholar’s face since the beginning slowly vanished.
He became as cold and dark as an ancient, undisturbed well.
Without hesitation, Qin Jianfu extended his withered hand to the side, made a grasping motion through the air, and the Purple Gold Token at Zhao Qian’er’s waist, which was about to be activated, shot up with a ’whoosh’, broke its string, and landed in his hand.
The old man looked down, slightly curling one segment of his withered finger to gently open the mouth of the gray tobacco pouch.
He tossed in the Purple Gold Token, which symbolized both the identity of a genius seed in Taiching’s Tranquility Mansion and served as a tool for locating and intimidating others.
The Purple Gold Token shrank in circles, drawing an arc, before being sucked into the pouch.
Qin Jianfu’s withered finger then beckoned to the nearby suspended, crystalline little sword.
The swing moved, but this time it didn’t follow its owner’s intent to strike.
With a sorrowful sword wail, it spun uncontrollably, its body shrinking, and like the Purple Gold Token, was sucked into the unknown pouch.
The situation was unclear.
Zhao Qian’er’s chest heaved sharply.
She pressed her lips tightly together, her gaze still filled with killing intent as she stared furiously at the calmly-moving old scholar.
Yet the next second, a red line of blood still trickled down from her tightly pressed, whitening lips.
The Sword Cultivator’s Lifebound Flying Sword had lost its connection, akin to a fish losing its gills.
The girl’s eyes reddened, but her little face remained stubbornly unyielding.
However, Qin Jianfu did not look at the wild girl behind him.
He turned his head, as if he had just completed a few trivial tasks, clapped his hands, and nonchalantly sauntered towards Zhao Rong.
The disfigured old man hunched over, holding the three-foot-long copper smoking pipe between his fingers, clutching the gray pouch in his palm, and raising another hand to casually pat the dust off his sleeve.
His steps were unhurried.
He walked towards Zhao Rong, one step at a time.
The disfigured Confucian scholar looked at the young scholar, terrifyingly calm.
This time, it seemed, he wasn’t waiting for Zhao Rong to finish his last meal before execution.
Yet in the courtyard, the girl’s delicate body shook violently.
She struggled to spill out a few words, "You, you, let... Brother Rong’er go..."
Qin Jianfu raised a single crooked withered finger without turning his head.
The next moment, the lovely girl’s words came to an abrupt halt.
"Mmm...mmm...mmm."
Zhao Qian’er’s mouth was completely sealed by an invisible force, leaving her no choice but to watch as the old scholar’s hunched back approached defenseless Brother Rong’er.
A sound of desperate, struggling choking emerged from her throat.
But Zhao Rong did not look at the girl.
He directly turned his head to Qin Jianfu and exclaimed with utmost calmness and seriousness:
"I will die without resisting, in whatever way you choose...just let her go, just let her go."
The girl’s body trembled, tears streaming down her face.
Qin Jianfu’s eyelid twitched slightly.
He saw in the young scholar’s eyes a gravity it had never before held and... a plea?
"Heh heh."
The calm and indifferent old man finally laughed.
In an instant, he turned around, directly walking toward the stunned Zhao Qian’er, gripping her neck with mock sympathy.
Like how the young scholar once left him helpless in the face of his beloved son’s death.
Always maintaining his composure, Zhao Rong suddenly stood up.
He bit his teeth hard, his whole body trembling violently.
"Calm down! He’s trying to provoke you, maintain composure..." Gui hurriedly advised.
But Zhao Rong was like a dragon whose reverse scale had been touched, unable to listen any longer.
His cheeks puffed out fiercely as he breathed heavily, his gums bleeding from the pressure.
"How dare you!!!"
The young scholar roared, seemingly unable to restrain himself from rushing forward the next moment.
Qin Jianfu ignored him and continued to approach.
But then.
"Cough cough cough——!"
The old man suddenly turned pale, an intense fit of coughing attacking his throat.
He bent over like a shrimp, smacking his chest furiously, as if trying to cough up everything from his stomach.
In his coughing fit, the old man trembled as he picked up his copper smoking pipe, his lips quivering as he leaned in to seize the mouthpiece, his chest heaving in preparation for a deep draw.
At that exact moment, behind the old scholar, the young scholar whose eyes had already filled with rage decisively took a step forward, swinging his wide sleeve toward the old man’s hunched figure.
"Wait, don’t do it!" Gui suddenly advised.
But it was already too late.
As the words left its mouth,
A vibrant fiery red maple leaf that seemed out of place in late autumn flew from Zhao Rong’s sleeve...
A single leaf indicates the arrival of autumn.
Autumn also knows the red leaf.
The leaf is vibrant red, and so the autumn remains.
In an instant,
The entire bamboo forest turned into a sea of fiery red.
Countless red leaves blanketed the branches.
It was as if the whole bamboo forest had been set ablaze, encompassing the young Confucian scholar, the disfigured old scholar, and the pretty girl within the courtyard.
The once-quiet surroundings suddenly filled with the sound of river water, the whisper of wind through maple trees, the recitations of a scholar, the song of a fisherman at dusk, the flute of a child, the pipa of a boatwoman...
The sounds were endless, continuous, transforming into a solemn autumnal mood.
Before the tearful Zhao Qian’er could even utter a word, an elderly Confucian scholar materialized in front of her, clad in a red maple-colored robe, his hair and face pale with age.
This Mr. Yan’s projection, impeccably dressed, unsmiling, and dignified, stood between the pretty girl and the disfigured old scholar.
"Mmm mmm...Rong...mmm...Brother..."
With a sense of urgency, Zhao Qian’er looked at the back that blocked her view, her eyes reddened, wanting desperately to speak, but her mouth sealed shut, unable to form a complete sentence.
She despised Brother Rong’er, wanting to tell him to hurry up and get lost.
Wasn’t it agreed that with Uncle Bai absent, she would protect him? What was this? Nothing but macho nonsense, she thought angrily, tears flowing.
Just get out of here, silly Brother Rong’er...
At her feet, a swirl of autumn wind lifted red leaves around her, carrying the sobbing girl in the wake of autumn’s breath.
A certain scholar named Yan, who had prepared this maple leaf projection for his beloved disciple, now stood silently between the pretty girl and the disfigured old scholar.
The young scholar’s shoulders slumped slightly, and he exhaled a turbid breath.
He understood Gui’s caution, the understanding between the two of them unified.
He realized that Qin Jianfu’s ’coughing and smoking’ act was likely staged to provoke him into revealing his hidden cards.
To make the ’unexpected’ no longer a surprise.
But then.
Zhao Rong wearily hung his head, not looking at the disfigured old scholar who had suddenly reverted to his former state.
He rubbed his face, then prepared to touch the white jade token and fragrant sachet at his waist one last time.
As the sudden manifestation of red maple leaves covered the bamboo forest, the ghostly Confucian scholar’s figure appeared, standing protectively in front of Zhao Qian’er.
The old disfigured scholar’s face that had just recovered to its original self returned to its deranged expression.
"Rong’er, how could you be so reckless?"
Another voice asked solemnly, but the young Confucian scholar paid no attention.
The old disfigured man gasped as his chest heaved violently.
Lifting his hand to cover his lips in a feeble attempt to silence his own laughter, he then straightened himself.
He, too, began to realize something miraculous was about to happen.