Luan Xin's words had undoubtedly given Chu Yao a shot in the arm. He hurriedly asked, "Hope? Gongyi, do you have a plan?"
Luan Xin spoke slowly. "The Way of the Scholar."
Chu Yao furrowed his brows. "Your Way of the Scholar?"
The Way of the Scholar was a personal secret, and under normal circumstances, people wouldn't reveal it to outsiders. Luan Xin's situation was somewhat unusual. When he entered Shen Tang's service, he had revealed Silent Nurturing. So far, he had only confessed the truth to Shen Tang, which meant Chu Yao only knew about Silent Nurturing, too—Luan Xin could infuse rainwater with his literary energy and use it to discern the enemy's marching routes.
With both sides' positions laid bare, his own side could do its best to avoid the enemy.
However, they had already used this trick.
Could Gongyi still have another card up his sleeve?
Did his Way of the Scholar have another use?
Luan Xin continued at his unhurried pace. His listeners were anxious as if their hearts were on fire, yet they didn't dare rush him. "Earlier, at the Alliance Army's camp, I tried to make close contact with all the Literary Scholars who had a Way of the Scholar. One of the scholars under Wu Zhaode's command was rather unusual."
Luan Xin's true Way of the Scholar was called "Analogical Insight." Once activated, it let him sense and copy other people's Ways of the Scholar. Before his Way of the Scholar reached perfection, he could store no more than five. Each Way of the Scholar he stored put more strain on his body. That was one reason Luan Xin reacted so slowly: he was almost always at full capacity.
Reason told him to take it easy, but whenever he came across a novel