Master Tian

"I have a little motorcycle, I never ride it..."

Shen Tang wasn't still on the motorcycle at all, sometimes craning her neck to sing loudly, sometimes plucking leaves and throwing flowers. Accompanied by the "ding-a-ling" of bells, her off-key tune followed along, and the singer would hum a few times when she occasionally forgot the lyrics.

"One day, on a whim, I rode it to the market..."

Qi Shan finally couldn't take it anymore: "Young Master Shen, who did you learn the 'music' part of the Six Arts of a Gentleman from?"

It was simply misleading the next generation.

"Doesn't it sound good?"

Shen Tang asked sincerely.

Although her memories weren't extensive, she vaguely recalled that she should have been a singing queen, someone who could captivate a crowd with a microphone. She could sing, she could paint, a representative of a high-quality human woman.

(▽)

Qi Shan looked at Shen Tang with an indescribable expression.

The latter's eyes were open and confident. It was clear that she not only didn't think there was anything wrong with her singing but also thought he had bad taste. Qi Shan couldn't figure out where her confidence came from, and said, "There's a Word Spirit that fits the situation well - 'Why not have mountain songs and village flutes.'"

Shen Tang was confused: "What?"

Qi Shan held back a smile and said, "'Harsh and discordant, difficult to listen to.'"

Shen Tang: "..."

Her fists clenched!

"Yuan Liang can grow this old safely entirely due to luck, right?"

Such a good person, yet she had to have a mouth!

"Naturally, it's due to skill."

Shen Tang: "..."

Seeing her expression management fail, her features contorting and shifting, Qi Shan burst into laughter: "Young Master Shen, don't rush. You're still young, you can still be saved if you learn slowly."

About an hour passed. Qi Shan looked up at the sun, which was at its hottest point of the day. Let alone escorting prisoners, even just standing there doing nothing would cause sweat to pour out uncontrollably, soaking one's inner shirt.

"Do you want to speed up?"

Shen Tang said: "If we get too close, they might discover us."

Qi Shan: "With the laziness and laxity of those soldiers, how could they continue traveling under this scorching sun? They'll most likely find a shady spot to rest and have some tea to cool off. With so many ingredients you've put in the tea, I'm afraid I won't see a good show if I'm late."

"Yuan Liang, that makes sense. Then I'll go ahead and watch the show. If you don't want to ride the mule, you can walk on your own two legs."

Shen Tang whipped the motorcycle's backside.

The motorcycle cried out in pain and bolted.

In a short while, only a small dot remained. Facing Shen Tang's childish "provocation," Qi Shan merely smiled, seemingly unbothered. But then, he chanted: "Chase the Wind and Tread the Scenery."

With wings, one can soar through the firmament; with feet, one can chase the wind and tread the scenery.

His figure flickered, leaving only an afterimage, as if treading on the wind. Each step covered more than three Zhang, his expression calm, his posture relaxed.

Shen Tang: "???"

Qi Shan zipped past her, creating a gust of wind. In the blink of an eye, he was already dozens of Zhang away.

Shen Tang: "!!!"

Call the referee, someone's cheating!

In the end, she suffered from her lack of experience with Word Spirits. Even riding the four-legged motorcycle, she couldn't outrun Qi Shan on his two legs.

The sun was scorching, and the soldiers escorting the prisoner carts couldn't stand it and retreated into a small grove with dense tree canopies to rest. They gathered in shady spots in twos and threes, while several prisoner carts were left exposed to the sun. The prisoners in the carts were either suffering from heatstroke, their faces pale and sickly, their bodies weak and limp, or they had severe whip wounds.

The Grand Censor had the most serious injuries.

Tired, sleepy, hungry, thirsty, his throat parched, the Grand Censor even felt his life force rapidly draining away.

To torture the prisoners, the soldiers spared no effort. These prisoner carts were custom-made according to their height. Some were particularly tall, allowing prisoners to stand on tiptoe only slightly for comfort in their necks and wrists; some were particularly short, preventing them from standing upright or sitting down, forcing them to maintain a semi-squatting position.

Neither position allowed for restful sleep. After several days, even without whipping, they were half-dead.

The Grand Censor's prisoner cart was of the particularly tall kind.

He could only try to stand on tiptoe to catch his breath, but his heels would fall back down before long.

Severe injuries, intense emotional turmoil, dehydration, hunger, exhaustion... compounded by these factors, he began to hallucinate severely. His cracked lips moved slightly as he murmured, "Water, water... water..."

Just as he was about to faint, his prisoner cart was kicked, and the shaking jolted him awake.

"Father, wake up!" The Grand Censor barely regained some of his senses and turned to look at his son in the adjacent prisoner cart--his son's cart was the short model, with space to stretch his legs--his son's expression was filled with worry and surprise, saying, "Father, look at them."

Them?

Who?

The Grand Censor reacted a beat too slow.

He followed his son's gaze and saw that the soldiers who had been seeking shade from the heat were falling one after another. Some were clutching their heads and rolling on the ground, some had collapsed and were convulsing all over, some were breathing rapidly and with difficulty, some were rolling their eyes and foaming at the mouth, some were clenching their teeth with contorted faces, and a few, though less severely affected, were kneeling on the ground clutching their stomachs. Some even lost control of their bowels, exhibiting embarrassing sights.

Experienced as the Grand Censor was, he instantly understood.

The first thought was that these soldiers were poisoned!

The second thought was that someone was trying to rob the prison!

This thought invigorated him, and a strong will to survive erupted from the depths of his body, urging him to force himself to be alert.

The soldiers, meanwhile, were in chaos.

"The water is poisoned!"

"It's... it's poisoned!"

"Defend yourselves, be on guard!"

Most of the soldiers were poisoned, and only about a dozen who hadn't had time to drink the water escaped. They drew their swords and surrounded the prison cart, their expressions panicked, guarding every direction like birds startled by a bow.

A few breaths passed, and the surroundings were calm.

Jingle--

Here they come!

The thought echoed in the soldiers' minds.

But strangely, they only heard the sound and saw no one.

"Where are they? Where?"

"Filial sons, are you looking for me?"

A strange voice came from behind them. Startled, they turned around, only to see the prison cart empty. There was only a young boy with a tender face and a small build, holding a sword. The boy swept his sword, and the gleaming blade flashed before their eyes, causing a sharp pain.

Blood dyed their entire vision red.

"Son's Body Split!"

Shen Tang's expression was as cold as frost as she leaped down with her sword.

She used the Kind Mother Sword to discipline the filial sons. The prisoners' feet suddenly lost their footing and they fell to the ground, the prison cart already dozens of feet away.

The Grand Censor's pupils constricted.

"It's been a long time, Master Tian."

The Grand Censor turned his head at the sound of the voice, only to see a tall young man standing not far away. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair behind him, lending him a unique elegance. The young man smiled and nodded at him, but the smile looked utterly insincere.

Master Tian?

The Grand Censor was stunned by the address.

Qi Shan saw this and said, "Noble people often forget things, Master Tian."

The Grand Censor's son, supporting his elderly father, looked at Qi Shan warily. "Young sir, do you know my father?"

Still calling him "Master Tian"?

The Grand Censor was also puzzled.

Did they know each other?

With his knowledge, he could naturally tell what methods the young man had used to rescue him. It was likely by constructing a battlefield with "Scattered Like Stars and Chess Pieces" and then using "Steal the Peach" or other troop-deploying Word Spirits to replace them.

It sounded simple, but judging by the distance between the young man and the prison cart, the scope of "Scattered Like Stars and Chess Pieces" covered at least a hundred zhang. A scholar who could achieve this level of power on their own, before pledging allegiance to any feudal lord, could not be an unknown nobody.

If they knew each other, he would definitely remember.

I'm moving to a new home tomorrow, so I'm updating a bit earlier today because I have to get up early to entertain guests who will be coming to congratulate me.

Good night, everyone.