Once the troublesome woman stormed off, the fleeting spectacle of spring's radiance vanished, and the crowd at the Yang family shop soon dispersed. Zheng Dafeng, shrinking into himself, scurried beneath the main eaves and crouched at a distance, wary of drawing too close to the old master Yang. Though both were disciples, the disparity between him and Li Er in the master's eyes was as vast as heaven and earth. Zheng Dafeng harbored resentment over the master's favoritism, yet some realities were impossible to defy. Timidly, he asked, "Master, Qi Jingchun seems resolute in flouting the rules. When the time comes, where will we stand?"
The old man remained silent, puffing on his dry tobacco pipe. At some unnoticed moment, a black cat had appeared, settling by his feet, shaking its fur and scattering droplets in the rain. With mounting anxiety, Zheng Dafeng voiced his concerns: "That fellow from Zhenwu Mountain actually summoned a deity down the mountain—could trouble be brewing? After all, countless eyes are watching this place."
Still, the elder said nothing. Accustomed to his master's taciturn nature, Zheng Dafeng felt no awkwardness, letting his thoughts wander wildly, landing again on Qi Jingchun as he cursed under his breath: "Damn Qi Jingchun—he's been a lackey for fifty-nine years, and still these few days make no difference? Scholars are hopelessly stubborn and unreasonable!"
Finally, the old man spoke: "You're stubborn without schooling too."
Zheng Dafeng, unashamed, turned with a sly smile: "Want me to rub your shoulders and tap your legs, master?"
The elder replied coldly, "I have no coffin money. Give up that hope."
Embarrassed, Zheng Dafeng retorted, "Master, your words wound me. I may lack skill as your disciple, but my filial heart is true—I don't hanker after such things. I'm no Li Er's wife."
The old man grunted, "You're even less than her."
Zheng Dafeng's face darkened, head drooping like a frostbitten eggplant, utterly spiritless. Yet suddenly, his expression brightened—though his master's words remained harsh, at least he spoke more than usual. A rare moment indeed, worthy of celebration with a jug of wine back in the east wing.
In a lighter mood, he casually asked, "Can senior brother hold that guy back?"
Before the elder could retort, Zheng Dafeng slapped his own cheek: "If senior brother could stop him, there'd be no hope. Only if he can't, is there a chance. If he does, we're doomed to starve."
The elder asked, puzzled, "Zheng Dafeng, do you know why you'll never amount to much?"
Zheng Dafeng froze, sensing the gravity behind the question and preparing his response. Unexpectedly, the elder answered himself: "Because you're ugly."
Grasping his head, Zheng Dafeng stared at the rain splashing in the courtyard—an adult man utterly without tears, trapped in despair.
The official in charge required no subtlety to discern he was ill-suited to stay. He found a pretext and left the room.
Chen Songfeng resumed poring over archives, regaining some of the ease and composure befitting a scion of a prestigious family, a sharp contrast to his earlier anxiousness. Yet, the more composed he appeared, the more Liu Baqiao, watching nearby, felt stifled and frustrated. Though straightforward by nature, Liu Baqiao disliked bottling up grievances and decided to take a walk for peace of mind.
Chen Songfeng suddenly looked up and smiled: "Baqiao, can't sit still any longer?"
Liu Baqiao, just rising, plopped back down laughing: "Oh? Still have the leisure to tease me? You've got quite the spirit."
Chen Songfeng set aside an ancient tome with a wry smile: "I'm sorry to have made you the butt of the joke. When you defended me earlier, I wasn't ungrateful, but…"
Liu Baqiao detested pity and melodrama, waving him off: "No, no, I just can't stand that distant relative of yours being a bully. My few words were my own failing; you needn't thank me."
Leaning back, Chen Songfeng exhaled softly. If this were his ancestral home in Longwei County, such a relaxed posture would earn a scolding or worse. Among noble scholarly families, often mocked by warriors as hypocritical poseurs, decorum was law from birth. All clan children grew up steeped in strict traditions—except for the eccentric Southern Jianyuan Kingdom, famed for its free-spirited scholars.
Liu Baqiao asked: "What exactly is your relationship with Chen Dui? Why such fear of her? If it's family secrets, forget I asked."
Chen Songfeng stood, closing the door and seating himself where the official had been, quietly replying: "The buyer of porcelain named Liu, after many twists, eventually ended with our Longwei Chen family. Aren't you curious why?"
Liu Baqiao nodded, suspecting no mountain ape could guess—the competitor stirring the winds over the sword manual was not the sworn enemy Feng Lei Yuan, but the sudden powerhouse Longwei Chen family.
Weary from long-held burdens, Chen Songfeng confided, trusting Liu Baqiao's character: "Though our Chen clan is closer to Feng Lei Yuan, we abide by our ancestors' edicts—no meddling in mountain quarrels. After years of restraint, would a sword manual so irrelevant to us prompt a breach? We are a scholarly family, not cultivators; why muddy the waters?"
Liu Baqiao inferred: "So Chen Dui's family sought to claim this sword manual? Are they a reclusive sword-wielding noble clan?"
Chen Songfeng shook his head: "No. As you heard from steward Xue, the small town Chen family split in two. Chen Dui belongs to the branch that migrated far, abandoning Dong Baoping Continent altogether, settling elsewhere. Over generations, they flourished, now hailed as 'masters of worldly guilds.' These tales never spread here; only we in Longwei know because of distant kinship."
Liu Baqiao scoffed: "Is she fabricating tales or insulting my intellect? Her family with a guild of merits?"
Chen Songfeng raised two fingers.
Liu Baqiao rolled his eyes: "Hear me well—I said guild of merits, not guild of fame!"
Chen Songfeng kept his fingers raised.
Liu Baqiao, frustrated, pressed on: "What about the Confucian academies? Does her family have those?"
He referred to the orthodox three academies and seventy-two academies of the scholarly tradition, not the secular imperial schools. On Dong Baoping Continent, only the Shanya and Guanhu academies exist.
Chen Songfeng lowered one finger, leaving one raised.
Feigning panic, Liu Baqiao clasped the chair arms: "I better apologize to that lady ancestor. With such a domineering lineage, don't expect you Chen Songfeng to just flip through books—being a beast of burden would be no trouble at all."
Chen Songfeng smiled quietly, the charm of Liu Baqiao turning a humiliating tale into light-hearted banter.
Liu Baqiao crossed his arms leisurely: "Alright, knowing the terrifying origin of that ancestor, carry on."
Chen Songfeng smiled: "Actually, steward Xue already told you the answer."
Liu Baqiao's eyes lit up: "The Liu youth's ancestors were the tomb guardians of Chen Dui's Chen family who stayed in the town?"
Chen Songfeng nodded: "Well taught."
Liu Baqiao puzzled: "But isn't the ancestral sword manual from that traitor on Zhengyang Mountain? One of our Feng Lei Yuan founders? The timelines don't match for him to be the tomb guardian for Chen Dui's family."
Chen Songfeng explained: "I'm certain Liu's family were originally the tomb guardians for Chen Dui's clan. Why the sword cultivator who fled to Feng Lei Yuan later returned to the town, joined Liu's family, and passed down the sword manual remains a mystery. Thus, the family heirloom split into two: the sword manual and the wart armor. Chen Dui herself seeks not treasure, but to honor ancestors. If Liu's descendants exist, regardless of talent, she intends to bring them into the fold, repaying Liu's ancestor's service."
Liu Baqiao was incredulous: "Such a vast family lets a young woman handle ancestor rites? Almost got crushed by the Dali Prince's punch? Chen Songfeng, I've read plenty—even if mostly romantic tales—but I'm convinced she's a fake!"
Chen Songfeng shook his head with a wry smile: "You haven't seen how respectful my grandfather was to her."
Out of respect for the revered, Chen Songfeng couldn't reveal the full truth, describing it only as "courtesy." The family opened their doors wide, the patriarch bowed deeply, and the entire clan honored her as a guest of highest rank. The welcome feast placed her in the seat of honor—a shock to Chen Songfeng's sensibilities.
Liu Baqiao asked: "That Liu youth nearly got smashed by the old ape?"
Chen Songfeng sighed: "You said it yourself, 'nearly.'"
Approaching the window, Chen Songfeng peered out at the drizzling rain and wind, sensing a heavy downpour approaching.
He murmured, "That Master Ruan once traveled the world with one of Chen Dui's elders—they were sworn friends."
Liu Baqiao probed, "You mean Ruan Qiong, who might replace Qi Jingchun here? Chen Dui's family pulled strings?"
Chen Songfeng replied, "If that's true, the storm brewing this time is not a simple storm."
He added, "For the record, Master Ruan once asked me to safeguard a relic—something beyond your world."
Liu Baqiao laughed, "Relics beyond the world? What is this, a fairy tale?"
Chen Songfeng's smile grew wistful: "In this world, even fairy tales hold truth."
Suddenly, a piercing wind shattered the fragile peace, rattling windows and scattering papers. Both men turned sharply toward the distant mountain, where a faint glow flickered beneath the storm clouds.
The true battle was about to begin.