Chapter 219: May We All Be Blessed with Longevity to Share the Beauty of the Moon Even Though Miles Apart (8K Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 219: Sharing the Moonlight Across a Thousand Miles (8K Request for Monthly Tickets)

"When will the moon be clear and bright? With wine in hand, I ask the azure sky..."

Chen Yi wielded his brush without pause, the distinct strokes of his running script flowing from his heart, carrying a boundless poetic realm with them as it drifted forth.

The night sky.

A different kind of night sky—deep, profound indigo, dotted with a myriad of stars.

The bright moon.

More dazzling and brilliant than the full moon above, shedding a radiant, captivating light.

The poetic manifestation of that starry sky and bright moon, adorned with one golden character after another, was like a second night sky born this evening.

It spanned across the pleasure boat, and even...

Across the entirety of Qu Lake!

Yan Fusha looked up at the poetic realm and golden characters that had burst into existence across the sky, the smile in his eyes fading bit by bit.

"You... this..."

Chen Yi naturally had no intention of minding him, splashing his ink and sweeping his brush, completing the work in a single breath.

"I know not in the celestial palaces, what year it is this evening."

Upon that "night sky" dense with glowing indigo luminescence, character after character materialized, settling beside the second line.

It was as though an exiled immortal were brushing strokes in mid-air, writing these great golden characters.

And within that "night sky," a magnificent palace of jade pavilions and carved rafters slowly rose, positioned beneath the "bright moon."

Within it, celestial maidens danced in flight, silver-armored heavenly soldiers stood guard, and melodies transformed into runes that drifted through the air.

There was also a tall, upright figure clad in a green scholar's robe who appeared atop the palace.

His features were blurred and unclear, and one could only see him looking up at the moon.

Faintly, a nebulous voice echoed out.

"This evening, what year is it?"

"The twenty-first year of Anhe in the Great Wei dynasty, the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month, Shuzhou..."

Having heard this, the figure fell silent for a moment, sighing softly in a low voice:

"I desire to ride the wind and return, yet fear the jade towers and palaces, for the heights are too cold to endure..."

"Rising to dance with one's clear shadow, how can it compare to remaining in the mortal realm..."

The faint sound of the sigh lingered over Qu Lake, cascading upon the shores along with the brilliance of the bright moon.

Mouths agape, the merry children noticed that radiance, stopping to wave their hands, laughing and shouting that there were immortals.

The trysting scholars and beautiful ladies had been in a state of coy advances and gentle refusals, but upon seeing that celestial realm, they all froze in a daze.

The lion dances on the streets ground to a halt.

Gongs and drums beat on unconsciously.

The strolling crowds forgot to take another step.

Everyone stared blankly at the spectacle rising above the distant Qu Lake.

"Two... two moons..."

Time seemed to grind to a halt, voices fell momentarily silent, and only the flowers, birds, fish, and insects continued to leap and chirp in joy.

Yet the unfolding of the poetic realm was not yet finished.

"Turning past the vermilion pavilion, leaning low against the silk-screened window, it shines upon the sleepless..."

"There should be no resentment, but why is it always full when people part?"

One could see that within the "night sky" over Qu Lake, amidst the jade towers and palaces, that figure drifted out, flying straight toward the bright moon.

A celestial realm beneath his feet, the bright moon and stars above his head.

The figure appeared tiny in the center, glancing back slightly.

It was as though he saw heaven and earth, saw Qu Lake and the mortal realm of Shuzhou, saw the crowds either lonely or festive beneath the bright moon.

He smiled in a free and easy manner.

"People experience sorrow, joy, separation, and reunion, just as the moon is dim, bright, waxen, or wane; this has been difficult to make perfect since ancient times."

"May we all be blessed with longevity, to share the beauty of this graceful moon even a thousand miles apart..."

The great golden characters shone brilliantly, shedding gold and silver radiance together with the celestial realm of the bright moon.

Specks of fragrant splendor appeared fitfully.

It left everyone who witnessed this scene utterly enchanted, as if they had truly beheld a celestial paradise.

Or perhaps, they themselves were within that celestial paradise.

Meanwhile, some scholars studying at the Guiyun Academy, while murmuring the poetry, naturally saw the appearance of that figure walking on thin air.

Examining it closely, their eyes suddenly widened.

"That... that is..."

"Mr. Qingzhou?!"

Inside the pleasure boat.

Yan Fusha stared blankly at the poetic realm that had manifested in the sky.

He indeed had not read many books, and could not speak of the classics, histories, poetry, or prose—things that were far too elegant.

But he was not illiterate.

Nor was he a shut-in youth devoid of worldly experience.

Yan Fusha had traveled north and south for all these years, and he felt that not a single poem he had seen or heard could compare to the "celestial verse" before his eyes.

Shortly after, he withdrew his gaze, looked at Chen Yi who had already finished writing the lyric, and questioned in an icy tone:

"Mr. Qingzhou, did you do this on purpose?"

Chen Yi glanced at him, placed the wolf-hair brush beside the inkstone, and said neither warmly nor coldly:

"Just as you said, to compose a lyric to suppress a city, what is the issue?"

Yan Fusha's expression changed abruptly, his robes billowing as an invisible, fierce aura surged toward his surroundings.

But before it could get close to Chen Yi, he instantly withdrew his breath, merely pressing his palm against the table.

Crack.

A distinct palm print materialized on that mahogany table, its edges faintly emitting wisps of dull, dark energy.

Yet Chen Yi only had the tips of his hair stir slightly; even the hem of his clothes did not flutter.

He looked at the palm print on the table, fixed his gaze on Yan Fusha, and praised flatly:

"This palm strike is very impressive."

Yan Fushua fixed her icy gaze upon him, her eyes like a predator’s, and after a moment, she swept her hand away, dismissing the scroll of calligraphy, dissolving the celestial realm in an instant. In a cold, commanding voice, she ordered:

"Launch the boats!"

Chen Yi was not surprised at all. He calmly watched her, observing the bustling figures in black robes around him.

He weighed the situation in his heart.

Two painted boats, five poison sect disciples, including Yan Fushua, totaling fourteen people.

And—

Yan Fushua’s palm earlier—he had seen it clearly. His cultivation had long surpassed the fifth rank, reaching the fourth.

Precisely, it was the lower half of the fourth rank.

Within that palm, there should have been the subtlety of the heavens and earth, a fist technique at the pinnacle of mastery.

Combined with wood energy spirit essence.

Cultivation, martial arts, poison, venomous skills…

Indeed, a formidable foe.

Not long after.

The painted boats sailed northward.

Pei Maweng’s boat, where she was, would depart even sooner.

But she—

After seeing Chen Yi’s "eye-racking" antics earlier, she finally remembered what they were supposed to do now.

So, while Chen Yi was distracted writing verses, Pei Maweng kept muttering under her breath.

Little flower, little flower, eat quickly.

Consume all those poisons into your belly…

By the pool.

Though the moonlit immortal realm had vanished, the crowd that had witnessed it surged toward the pool.

"That must have been the Immortal Palace!"

"Goodness, what an omen! On this Mid-Autumn Festival, the heavens have sent a sign—immortals have visited Shu Zhou!"

"Congratulations, congratulations…"

Lou Yuxue watched the boats drift farther away, her brow furrowed.

"Shouldn’t Zhi Niao be at the Cloud Book Academy for the Mid-Autumn Poetry Gathering tonight? Why is he on that boat?"

"Was that the carriage earlier?"

Lou Yuxue hesitated in her thoughts.

The recent fire that had razed three cities’ grain stores had just occurred, and unrest in Shu Zhou’s capital remained unresolved.

At a time like this, she, the "illegitimate heir" of Moon Tower, should not have stirred at all.

Moreover, Zhi Niao Chen Yi was part of the Eagle Task—interfering recklessly might cause complications.

Lou Yuxue pondered these things and formed a plan.

"Send word!"

"Take these events to the Cloud Academy and inform Luan Feng!"

"Quickly!"

……

Cloud Book Academy.

The poetry gathering raged like fire and thunder.

Fine wine and delicacies wafted through the air.

Beautiful women sang and played melodies of the deepest seclusion.

In the merriment, occasional cheers and respectful praises mingled.

Poems and lyrics were presented to the stage, where Master Yue Ming and others appraised them.

At this moment, the scene on the stage had changed.

The feast had ended.

Four tables stood in order, stacks of papers piled beside them, but on the central two tables, only four large sheets remained.

Laid out in a row.

Their calligraphy was fresh, strokes varying in length.

At the end, four names were clearly written: "Shu Zhou Li Huigu, Yang Zhou Pei Zha Ye, Jiangnan Fu Ji Zhiyuan, and… Jing Zhou Liu Zhaoxue."

Master Yue Ming sat in the lead on the imperial throne, his eyes scanning over Chen Yunfan, Xiao Wan’er, and others.

He muttered to himself about the tiny boats not coming, not coming, while casually agreeing with the others nearby.

Zhou Ying was also restless, but since Chen Yi was absent, his urgency bore no fruit, so he sipped tea to mask his impatience.

Ling Chuan glanced at the group’s expressions, his gaze settling on Liu Hong, smiling:

"Lord Liu, I hear your niece is talented in both beauty and intellect, now it seems she truly lives up to her name."

Liu Hong smiled, "She has always loved reading since childhood, and she is clever. Though in this setting, her talents can only be called 'not inferior to men.'"

"Besides, aside from what’s in her belly, composing poetry and lyrics also depends on the right time and place."

"Among us all, who hasn’t had a moment of sudden inspiration?"

The others around him naturally caught the meaning, nodding in agreement.

Yang Ye glanced at a few people, then leaned back in his chair as if in a doze, hands in his sleeves, like an old farmer.

He couldn’t stand these flatterers, so he chose to look away and ignore them.

At that moment, Liu Si noticed a gap in the conversation, smiled, and asked:

"Many fine works today, let’s choose four from the best."

"Just wondering, who among the honored masters and lords would you choose for the title of 'Poetry King'?"

Master Yue Ming and Zhou Ying both dipped their tea cups, as if they hadn’t heard.

Ling Chuan looked at the two, smiled, and asked:

"Governor, surely you’ve already decided, why not share your thoughts for our benefit?"

Liu Si, noticing this, cursed inwardly at the old ruffian, and nonchalantly appraised:

"Li Huigu and Pei Zha Ye’s poems are equally matched."

"Ji Zhiyuan’s work pales slightly compared to Liu Zhaoxue’s."

The words had already been spoken, and he noticed Liu Hong and Zheng Zheng’s eyes watching him from afar, a sudden realization striking him.

But the words were out, so he could only grimace and say:

If I were to choose, tonight’s so-called "Poetry Master" would be none other than Liu Zhaoxue’s "The Pipa Fairy during the Mid-Autumn Festival."”

Chen Chuan smiled.

The others seated around the table also smiled.

Even the scholar Ye Ming, who had set down his tea cup, joined in the laughter, asking: “Governor, do you truly think so?”

“Ye Ming doesn’t believe it?”

“Governor, I’ve misunderstood. I thought Liu Zhaoxue’s poem was well-crafted, with careful word choice…”

Before Ye Ming could finish, Liu Hong nodded: “Ye Ming, you’re right.”

“Zhaoxue’s lyrics are flashy but hollow, their imagery rather poor. Indeed, they don’t deserve the title of ‘Poetry Master.’”

After a pause, he turned to Liu Si with a smile: “What do you think?”

Liu Si’s face flushed instantly, a sheepish smile spreading as he bowed: “Your Excellency, I fear my knowledge is shallow.”

Liu Hong averted his gaze and said: “Ye Ming, the hour grows late. How about we wait another moment before announcing the result?”

Ye Ming glanced at him, sighed inwardly, and nodded: “Very well. As Master Gongchou said, let’s wait a moment.”

Ah, well.

A light boat could not help but feel out of place in such a setting, unable to force itself into the conversation.

At this point, the outcome of the “Poetry Master” competition had drawn attention not only from the scholars gathered on the high platform but also from those seated at the tables below.

“Truly, this journey was not in vain. The Mid-Autumn Festival has coincided with the gathering of countless talents from the three prefectures of Jiangzhou, Nanzhou, and Changzhou, all converging in Shuzhou—a perfect meeting of fine poetry and scenic beauty.”

“Brother Teng is right.”

“The poems by Pei Zhaoye of Julu Academy—‘Ginkgo leaves fall like gold grains, fragrant breeze sweeps the jade terrace; who will let the flute’s melody rise, blowing clear on the brightest night’—were prepared in advance, yet still a masterpiece.”

“And Elder Luo’s line—‘A jade mirror hangs suspended in the sky, golden wind brushes the pine courtyard’—is no different.”

As Pei Zhaoye listened to the surrounding chatter, a slight flush of pride touched his face.

Beside him, a young scholar noticed his expression and chuckled: “Pei, your poems today must surely stand atop the list?”

Pei Zhaoye bowed modestly: “We’ll have to wait for the judgments of the masters.”

Yet he already knew that among the four sheets of paper spread on the high platform, one bore his name.

“There’s still hope.”

“Now Pei can show that light boat scholar a different side of himself.”

“Who cares if he looks at me differently?”

“Pei speaks truly. In my view, that light boat scholar does have talent, though he’s not yet capable of composing poetry on the spot.”

“They say the poems he wrote earlier were all composed in his own study.”

“Indeed…”

A student glanced around at the others, shook his head, and muttered: “By that rain-soaked poem alone, I’m certain I’m no match for him.”

“A pity he didn’t write anything today, leaving us unable to witness his literary prowess firsthand. His poetry too is hard to see.”

Pei Zhaoye huffed displeased: “Even if he were here, would it just be about his brushwork? Would he merely write a single lyric?”

“Not necessarily…”

At a table some distance from the platform.

Chen Yunfan’s face bore a similar expression of dissatisfaction.

Yet his thoughts differed entirely from Pei Zhaoye’s.

There was no other option.

After so long listening, Chen Yunfan had heard two remarks about himself: one saying, “Today’s top scholar must be making a grand display,” and another muttering, “He writes poorly.”

Chen Yunfan was deeply annoyed, grumbling and complaining without any insight, not understanding the finer points of literary merit.

His companion, Cui Qingwu, heard everything clearly but pretended not to.

It was impossible to offer comfort at such a moment; such words would only make a talented scholar feel more embarrassed.

So she spent most of her time chatting idly with Xiao Wanzhe.

Xiao Wanzhe, being of similar age and background, had grown quite familiar over the long hours they spent together.

In Cui Qingwu’s eyes, Xiao Wanzhe’s gentle nature was softened, yet she lacked the arrogance typical of those from noble families.

In contrast, Cui Qingwu herself, a daughter of a wealthy family, had her own flaws.

Thus, in their conversations, Cui Qingwu found herself admiring Xiao Wanzhe—truly, she was so tender, dignified, and generous.

Like a lotus, pure and graceful.

Meanwhile, Xiao Wanzhe felt a certain fondness for Cui Qingwu, at least more so than Liu Zhaoxue of Jingzhou, who had been rather relaxed in her presence.

At this moment, Xiao Wuhe glanced around, still not seeing Chen Yi or Pei Mengli, and tugged at Xiao Wanzhe’s sleeve: “Sister, has your brother-in-law not returned yet?”

Xiao Wanzhe nodded, more attentive to the surroundings of the courtyard than Xiao Wuhe, glancing now and then.

Thus, during her idle chat with Cui Qingwu, her thoughts wandered slightly. “Perhaps he’s delayed by some matter. I’ll take you to find him later.”

Xiao Wuhe nodded, idly watching the scholars around them engaged in lofty discourse, his mind musing:

After all, true scholars must be both talented and virtuous.

Here, it seemed, most people did not match his brother-in-law’s description…

When Chen Yunfan heard the two of them speaking, he signaled to Cui Qingwu, asking her to keep an eye on Xiao Wanzhe.

Chen Yi had struggled to get this one favor from him, and he didn’t want any mishaps to occur.

Cui Qingwu nodded, her thoughts tinged with doubt.

“Older brother Chen, has Chen Yi gone somewhere?”

“Nothing. Though I imagine he wouldn’t have gone far. After all, even that mountain girl’s cultivation isn’t that great…”

Before Chen Yunfan could finish, he suddenly turned his head toward the courtyard gate.

Cui Qingwu did the same.

Somewhere in the distance, they both heard a commotion of hurried footsteps outside the courtyard gate.

In the midst of their confusion, someone called out from outside: “Sir, Master Qinzhou has composed a poem!”

“As the poem concludes, there’s an immortal realm in the pool of the courtyard!”

“An immortal realm?”

Chen Yunfan and Cui Qingwu exchanged a glance, both thinking of Chen Yi’s complete mastery of the Way.

Once the realization dawned on him, Chen Yunfan shrank back, wishing nothing more than to blend entirely into the background.

"I knew it. There was no way Brother Yi would keep a low profile today."

"Turns out he didn't even bother showing off at the poetry gala; he ran off to Quji Pond instead and somehow conjured up some sort of immortal realm."

"Ah, why must Yi exist if I am here? Being the elder brother is truly a hardship."

Knowing he spoke without malice, Cui Qingwu smiled and said, "Don't you want to know what poem Chen Yi wrote?"

"Not really..."

Hearing their voices, Xiao Wan'er felt a surge of joy, but when she looked up and saw no sign of Chen Yi, she could not help but ask:

"Sister Qingwu, has my brother-in-law returned?"

Cui Qingwu shook her head and replied, "The man has not returned, but his verses certainly have."

"His verses?"

"Look over there, they are currently inquiring about it."

Xiao Wan'er looked toward the direction she pointed, her slender neck emerging slightly from her heavy cloak.

She saw two scholars in long robes racing toward the high platform, speaking to Master Yueming and the others with expressions of intense excitement.

The distance was too great for her to hear clearly.

Discerning her thoughts, Cui Qingwu listened to the conversation on the platform and relayed it to her:

"Those two scholars are saying that Master Qingzhou composed a lyric at Quji Pond, and it was like an immortal realm on earth."

"Master Yueming asked if it was true, and what lyric he had written."

"The scholar replied, 'When will the bright moon appear?'"

"The other added, 'With wine in hand, I ask the blue sky...'"

Hearing this, a trace of a smile surfaced on Xiao Wan'er's face.

From these two lines alone, she knew the verses Chen Yi had composed were exceptional.

"And then?"

Cui Qingwu glanced at Chen Yunfan, who could no longer lift his head, and said with a concealed laugh:

"'I know not in the celestial palaces, what year it is tonight... May we all be blessed with longevity, though thousands of miles apart, sharing the same beautiful moon.'"

After listening, Xiao Wan'er instinctively murmured that it was a magnificent lyric, yet as she repeated the final line, an inexplicably complex feeling stirred in her heart.

"May we all be blessed with longevity, though thousands of miles apart, sharing the same beautiful moon..."

"Since my brother-in-law is chanting to the moon, is he also longing for my second sister?"

Unaware of her inner thoughts, Cui Qingwu continued on her own, "Master Yueming and the others are praising it, saying this lyric deserves the top rank."

"They also said..."

Chen Yunfan's head throbbed from listening; he lifted his face to look at her and sighed, "Qingwu, having excellent hearing shouldn't be used like this."

It was one thing for those people on the platform to praise the lyric and Chen Yi.

But having to listen to Cui Qingwu repeat it all at the foot of the platform made his discomfort unbearable.

Cui Qingwu let out a soft laugh behind her hand. "I thought Brother Yunfan would be happy for Chen Yi."

"Happy, I am absolutely delighted."

Beside them, Li Huaigu could well understand Chen Yunfan's feelings and shook his head:

"Now that Brother Qingzhou has composed such a piece, I fear the rest of us will find it difficult to ever match him in the future."

Chen Yunfan felt a profound sense of shared melancholy.

By now, most of the crowd above and below the platform had heard of the incident, and every single one of them harbored complex emotions.

Master Yueming, however, abandoned his previous composure, stroking his beard as he praised repeatedly:

"A masterpiece, a masterpiece..."

"Magnificent, grand, and possessed of a splendid conceptual depth; it is truly the finest the old man has seen in all his life."

Liu Hong smiled and nodded. "It is a pity Qingzhou is not here at this moment; otherwise, we too might have appreciated this 'immortal realm'."

Yang Ye, who had long been sitting in a dignified posture, offered a rare agreement: "Qingzhou's lyric is exquisitely written. If we could view his original manuscript, this journey would not be in vain."

Seeing the three of them speak, Master Zhuoying and the others, much as they wished to express their own admiration for Chen Yi's verses, could only pause for the moment.

Liu Hong looked toward Yang Ye and asked with a mild smile, "Master Yang, you have met Qingzhou before. I wonder what kind of young man he is?"

"Him? Just like his elder brother Yunfan, he is a young man who gives one little peace of mind."

"Oh?"

"To be comparable to the current top scholar of the imperial examinations, he must certainly be extraordinary."

Yang Ye cast a glance at him. "Master Liu, since when have you paid such close attention to Qingzhou?"

The speaker may have been casual, but the listeners were attentive.

Even Master Yueming, Master Zhuoying, and the others turned their gazes toward Liu Hong, their eyes filled with a peculiar meaning.

Everyone present knew Liu Hong's identity, and they also knew that the Liu family of Jingzhou and the Xiao family had been at odds recently.

Furthermore, they were aware that just this afternoon, Liu Hong had been reprimanded by the Emperor due to the burning of the summer grain in Tiebi Town.

Hearing Yang Ye's question at this moment, they naturally paid closer attention.

Unhurriedly, Liu Hong scanned the gathering, his gaze settling on Yang Ye as he replied with a smile:

"Master Qingzhou possesses such talent at such a young age; staying indefinitely in the Xiao family is not a long-term solution."

With just a single sentence, realization dawned in Yang Ye's mind—had he harbored the intention of drawing Chen Yi into officialdom?

After a moment's thought, he shook his head. "Every man has his own aspirations. Qingzhou is currently at Guiyun Academy, under Yueming's guidance; his immense talent will naturally find its time to be displayed."

Master Yueming nodded. "Regrettably, he is indolent by nature, and even this old man cannot persuade him."

Hearing this, Master Zhuoying said with a smile, "There is no need for the Headmaster to persuade him. Qingzhou has his own thoughts, and staying at our academy is for the best."

"Haha, Zhuoying speaks the truth."

Han Zhangping, Sifeng, and the others could naturally see the pride radiating from the two men, and their hearts harbored no small amount of envy.

After all, who would not want an instructor who had reached the realm of absolute perfection in calligraphy within their own academy?

Moreover, one who could write a timeless masterpiece like "When will the bright moon appear"?

At that moment, Liu Hong said with a smile, "The outcome is already clear. Brother Yueming might as well announce it directly."

"I believe that with Qingzhou's brilliant gem preceding them, all the scholars present will be thoroughly convinced."

Master Yueming cast a glance at him, then looked around at the assembly, nodding with a smile:

"If that is the case, this old man shall accept the honor."

Though he said so.

He had already made up his mind to give Chen Yi a thorough scolding later on.

Earlier, he had not set down his compositions, but insisted on waiting until the very end to unveil such a masterpiece. In so doing, he had caused him endless worry.

Not long after, Mr. Zhuo Ying rose to announce the result: "Today's Poetry Master is—Grave Cloud Academy's Chen Yi, Chen Qinzou!"

"Let us all admire the poems and essays he has composed!"

"Water Moon Melody, when will the bright moon ever..."

Most people could accept this outcome; since others were more talented, what more could be said?

Even the resentful Pei Zhaoye could only grind his teeth and swallow them down.

Meanwhile, seated in the hall, Liu ZhaoXue furrowed her brow unceasingly.

She knew well that Yan Fushan intended to test Chen Yi, yet she never imagined in what circumstances Yan Fushan would be so foolish as to let Chen Yi compose a poem.

Could he not fear being discovered?

In the end, Liu ZhaoXue had no choice but to hope that Yan Fushan and the Five Poison Sect would not be discovered. At the very least, she could not afford to be implicated.

At this moment, some were troubled, others overjoyed. Xiao Woge slapped the table and shouted, "Uncle Poetry Master!"

Although Xiao Wun'er was also delighted, she often found herself recalling "Like Qingcheng in the world, few are like her" and "Thousands of miles share the bright moon." She must have been thinking complex thoughts.

Chen Yunfan, seeing this, raised his cup with Li Huiguo and drank it all at once.

"With Yi Dan around, my brother's poems from now on would be... dogs!"

"Yunfan, you need not be so concerned; Qinzou's poetic talent is such, we ought to revere him."

"Revere him? He..."

Before finishing the sentence, Chen Yunfan closed his mouth dejectedly.

He indeed should revere Chen Yi. From childhood to adulthood, Chen Yi was praised by all. From the clan elders of the Chen family and famous scholars of Jinling down to aunts and uncles in various households, even servants cared for him thoroughly. Yet he, Chen Yunfan, was truly pitiable.

Cui Qingwu had guessed some of his thoughts, just as he was about to speak, when little Ring ran up.

"My lady, please move aside, there's something..."

Before Ring could finish, Cui Qingwu apologized to those around and stepped out with her.

Chen Yunfan noticed her silhouette, raised an eyebrow, and quietly stood his ear.

A message was received; the suspected Chickadee Bird was apparently abducted...

Chickadee Bird?

Chen Yunfan sneezed in disdain; what kind of bird was that, anyway, to be abducted?

He was about to practice the Black Turtle Suppressing Technique to regain his cultivation when Cui Qingwu from the other side said, "How so?"

Just now, his poems were transmitted, and there was an ascension to the immortal realm...

Poems, immortal realm.

Chen Yunfan's face changed slightly; they were talking about... Yi Dan?

"My lady, I don't know the specifics."

"In that case, we'll go see later."

Although Cui Qingwu was a bit confused, not knowing what had happened to Chen Yi, she knew the name "Chickadee Bird" as a Silver Flag official. She didn't dare to ask.

Thinking this over, Cui Qingwu returned to the table, preparing to find a suitable reason to leave first.

Before she could speak, Chen Yunfan gently pulled her aside, "Stay here."

Cui Qingwu hesitated, "You..."

Chen Yunfan whispered, "Keep an eye on Xiao family's brother and sister; I'll go."

Cui Qingwu's beautiful eyes widened, "You... Yunfan..."

Chen Yunfan looked at her, his handsome face serious, "I'll go see who's so bold as to mess with my Chen family member!"

Before Cui Qingwu could ask further, Chen Yunfan left.

Ring also heard their conversation, "My, my lady, Chen Gongzi... he..."

Cui Qingwu stared blankly at the retreating figure. After a while, she suddenly smiled.

"Yunfan, you're hiding quite well."

As the hour of Hai approached, the boat glided northward through the narrow river channel, entering the Red River.

The clamor of voices ceased instantly, leaving only a few boats unwilling to remain within the manor, their distant laughter faintly heard.

Yan Fushan sat atop the boat, his sharp eyes fixed on Chen Yi. Around him, several black-clad figures each watched a direction, on guard.

Meanwhile, Chen Yi looked at the Red River with a calm demeanor, as if admiring the scenery.

Unnoticed by Yan Fushan, Chen Yi's fingers beneath his sleeve were carefully pricking acupoints with a fine needle from his earring, meticulously neutralizing the poison within his body.

In truth, his cultivation had been poor earlier. Those two bottles of poison—he had randomly chosen one, and it just so happened to be the one that caused death within three breaths.

Had Yan Fushan not assumed him to be an ordinary scholar without martial prowess, and thus deemed the poison's potency low, he might not have endured until now.

At that moment, the boat drifted dozens of miles, the surroundings utterly silent.

Yan Fushan finally spoke: "Master Qinzou, Yan has a matter unclear; pray, enlighten me on two points."

Chen Yi turned his head toward him, awaiting his questions.

"You've waited so long beside me, yet you show no curiosity about my identity?"

“Curiosity, is it not curiosity itself?”

“But I asked, would that make you speak?”

Upon hearing Chen Yi’s words, Yan Fusha smiled, “Speak? Of course I’ll speak.”

“I am Yan Fusha, hah… without speaking, how could I let Master Qinzhou understand?”

Chen Yi’s heart stirred slightly, turning his head toward him, “You’d kill me here?”

Yan Fusha’s laughter faltered, shaking his head, “Master Qinzhou, you’re mistaken.”

“Yan some doesn’t just want to kill you. That brat from the Pei family must die tonight.”

He pointed to another painted boat half a hundred zhang away, sneering, “You may not know.”

“Yan some and the mountain tribe’s hatred are beyond each other’s reach.”

Chen Yi hummed, glancing toward the other boat, his ear ornament striking twice against his body.

Yan Fusha continued unbothered, “Master Qinzhou, your path skills are good, but not enough.”

“Originally, Yan some had no intention of rushing like this.”

“But…”

Before he could finish, a voice erupted from beside him, “My lord!”

“What?”

“That painted boat!”

Yan Fusha glanced over and saw a delicate figure peeking from the window upstairs on the distant boat.

Not Pei Qianlu—who was it?

Yan Fusha hadn’t the foggiest idea what had transpired, “Yan some underestimated the mountain tribe’s venomous insects.”

“With so many poisons, she still managed to neutralize them all.”

Speaking thus, he growled, “Go! Grab her!”

Yet no sound or movement stirred the air.

Yan Fusha paused, then erupted into action, unleashing a devastating palm strike sideways.

Boom!

The entire boat shattered in an instant, splinters and debris scattering like autumn leaves.

Yan Fusha glared, squinting until he saw a figure standing in the wreckage’s corner. His eyes ignited like raging fires.

“It’s you?!”

Chen Yi paid him no mind, eyeing the ghostly Pei Qianlu on the other boat, dropping his medicine bottle with a sigh, “That girl neutralized the poison, but she’s still up to her tricks. She’s been holding her tongue all this time.”

Thankfully, the tiger cub had caught his earlier warning, which eased his mind somewhat.

Meanwhile, Pei Qianlu hadn’t given it a thought. Spotting Yan Fusha’s strike, she shed her disguise entirely, sprinting out to shout, “Brother, I’ll help you!”

Chen Yi’s teeth chattered as he grinned, turning away to curse, “Stay put, still trying to cause trouble?”

Pei Qianlu pulled her neck back, leaning against the boat’s railing, eyes wide with longing.

“It was just a silly mistake…”

Chen Yi sighed, shaking his head without looking back, then fixed his gaze on Yan Fusha, smiling, “A true elder of the Five Poison Sect—his poison resistance is truly formidable.”

One bottle of Qingfeng Zui, one of Shenxian Zui—these two had sent the surrounding assassins sprawling, yet Yan Fusha remained standing.

One must admit, the Five Poison Sect cultivators aren’t without skill.

Though Yan Fusha had never heard the term “poison resistance,” he understood Chen Yi’s meaning.

He stared daggers at Chen Yi, his voice dripping with malice, “You—you already knew about Yan some and the Five Poison Sect?!”

(End of chapter)