Poetry Gathering

Yuan Long fell silent for a long moment before finally asking,

"How did you fuse two kinds of Momentum together?"

Jiang Tian froze for a moment, then instinctively asked in return, "Master Yuan... you don't know how?"

"You little brat!"

Yuan Long's old face reddened. He slapped the back of Jiang Tian's head, his voice rising with a hint of mortified anger. "What? Does that mean I have to know how?"

Jiang Tian rubbed the back of his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. Then he cleared his throat and began explaining, step by step, how he had fused the two kinds of Momentum.

For now, he could only fuse Bear in the Cave and Tiger in a Cage, two forms of Momentum geared toward killing. He was nowhere near mastering all five kinds of Momentum, but even so, his method was already astonishing.

Yuan Long listened with rapt attention, like a Martial Arts Hall disciple who had only just begun his training. Every so often, he interrupted to ask a question, his expression as intent as a pupil thirsting for knowledge. In his cloudy old eyes, a youthful eagerness flickered—something he hadn't shown in a long time.

Jiang Tian answered each question. But there were some things he thought he'd explained clearly enough, yet Yuan Long still looked bewildered, his brow furrowed into a knot. Jiang Tian could only be patient, breaking things down and explaining them in even finer detail. He even demonstrated several times.

Everyone in the Martial Arts Hall was completely dumbfounded.

"My heavens—what am I looking at? Master Yuan is asking Jiang Tian for advice?!"

"This can't be right. Has Jiang Tian already surpassed Master Yuan in martial arts?"

"Hiss—"

Whispers swept back and forth like wind through a wheat field. Some people stood gaping, mouths hanging open. Others held their bowls of water without remembering to drink. A few had stopped with their fists in midair, completely forgetting to throw their punches.

The two of them talked on for who knew how long. By the time half the disciples in the courtyard had left and the setting sun had stained the horizon a dark red, they finally stopped.

"So that's how it is! So that's how it is!"

Yuan Long's face flushed red. He looked like a child who'd just gotten his favorite toy, and light shone from his cloudy old eyes, bright enough to sting.

"With your method, I can fuse the two kinds of Momentum together in ten days—no! Five!"

When he finished, he paused and looked at Jiang Tian, his expression complicated.

His gaze held shock, appreciation, and wonder, along with something he couldn't quite put into words.

Before, no matter how dazzling Jiang Tian's performance had been, Yuan Long had seen him only as a disciple of the Martial Arts Hall—well, a disciple with excellent Root Bone and exceptional comprehension.

But now, his gaze had changed completely.

He saw Jiang Tian as his equal.

Or even—as his teacher.

That night, Jiang Tian walked home in high spirits, humming an unfamiliar tune.

The early-spring breeze still carried a chill, brushing coolly against his face, but he found it particularly refreshing. The willows along the roadside had just sprouted their first tender buds, which glimmered faintly silver in the moonlight.

He hadn't reached Transformation Energy yet, but the threat to his lifespan had more or less been dealt with. Now he needed to think about what came next.

Should he go to Qingyuan Prefecture City and join the Heavenly Fire Sect?

As his thoughts churned, he suddenly stopped. Someone stood at the mouth of the alley, with Manifest Energy cultivation!

Who was it?

His gaze turned cold. Had someone from the Li Family come after him? That shouldn't be possible. He'd dealt with things cleanly that day and hadn't left a trace at the scene.

But in the next moment, the tension in his expression eased.

It wasn't someone from the Li Family. And he knew this person.

Wang Moshan's Manifest Energy bodyguard. What was his name again... Hou Tianzu.

The corner of Jiang Tian's mouth lifted slightly. He'd been planning to settle the score with Wang Moshan once he broke through to Transformation Energy. He hadn't expected the other man to deliver himself right to his doorstep.

He walked over at an unhurried pace. By the time he reached Hou Tianzu, he'd arranged his expression perfectly: an unnatural smile plastered across his face, fear filling his eyes. He looked every bit like a scholar scared out of his wits.

"Brother Hou."

Hou Tianzu started and turned to look at him, uncertainty flashing in his eyes.

What's going on? Why hadn't I sensed him at all just now? Jiang Tian's like a ghost, appearing beside me without a sound.

Seeing Hou Tianzu's expression, Jiang Tian thought, Damn it. He'd forgotten that ever since learning Deer in the Snow, his movements naturally carried its Momentum.

Did he notice?

Fortunately, Hou Tianzu only frowned, assuming he'd been distracted a moment ago. He paid the strange occurrence no mind.

He adjusted his expression, his face turning impassive. His tone was that of a man ordering a servant around. "Boy from the Jiang Family, come with me. My young master has invited you to a Poetry Gathering."

"All right. I'll let my big brother know." Jiang Tian lowered his head and clasped his hands.

As his head dipped, a glint of cold light flashed through his eyes. When he raised it again, his harmless expression had returned.

"No! You can't go!"

Jiang Minghai's brows knitted together. He slapped the table, rattling the bowls and plates.

Bai Zhiruo stood nearby, urging him as well. Her tone was gentler than Jiang Minghai's, but just as firm. "You can't go. That boy from the Wang Family... Anyway, just listen to your big brother."

"Big Brother." Jiang Tian gave him a reassuring smile, his tone so light it was as if he were talking about something trivial. "Don't worry. After what happened last time, would I really be stupid enough to argue with them again? Your little brother got sick, and it knocked some sense into him. I'm not that bookish fool who doesn't understand how the world works anymore."

Jiang Minghai opened his mouth, ready to say something else.

Jiang Tian spoke before he could. His voice was quiet, yet somehow carried a calming strength. "Big Brother, put your mind at ease."

With that, he waved to his big brother and turned to leave. His silhouette stretched long and straight beneath the moonlight.

Wang Moshan was the sort of man who couldn't do anything right.

In his youth, he'd studied at a Martial Arts Hall for three years, but when he still couldn't break through to Hidden Energy, he'd simply changed course and taken up the pen.

But he was just as hopeless at writing. The poems he composed were utter rubbish, yet he thought the world of them.

The servants at home had probably given him that confidence.

After studying for a while, he'd started holding Poetry Gatherings all over the city, affecting an air of refinement and fishing for fame.

The last one had been the second Poetry Gathering this young master had held.

They soon reached their destination.

A large boat was moored by the river, two stories tall. Its hull was painted vermilion, the color looking dark and dull beneath the moonlight.

Two large red lanterns hung from the bow, casting a pair of swaying red reflections on the water like two drunken eyes.

The lower deck was for drinking and watching dances. The faint strains of strings and bamboo instruments drifted through the planks, intermittent and indistinct.

The upper deck was for composing poems and trading verses. It was decorated with elegant taste, complete with screens, a zither table, and an incense burner.

Everyone attending the Poetry Gathering had to write a poem. The best one would win a hundred taels of silver.

By the time Jiang Tian arrived, the first part—drinking and watching the dance—was almost over.

"Oh, there you are—"

A young man in a white robe with gold trim embroidered on the cuffs hurried over, a theatrical smile on his face and a trace of complaint in his voice. "What happened, great poet? Why are you so late? We've finished watching the dance and drinking the wine. Should we have the dancers perform a solo just for you?"

Jiang Tian cupped his hands, a strained smile on his face. His voice carried a hint of nervousness. "Young Master Wang, I'll just join the Poetry Gathering in a moment."

"Oh, all right, then."

Wang Moshan put on a false smile and warmly draped an arm around Jiang Tian's shoulders, as though he hadn't been the one to beat Jiang Tian half to death last time.

He turned toward the inside of the boat and called out loudly, "This is Jiang Tian, our great poet from Blackwater County. I'm sure you all know him, right?"

"Of course!"

"How could we not?"

The crowd chimed in one after another, their voices overlapping.

Some wore strange smiles, the corners of their mouths twitching as they tried to hold something back.

Others simply lowered their heads, shoulders shaking as they struggled to suppress their laughter. Their faces had turned red from the effort.

Why had this fool come? Was he going to tear Wang Moshan's poem to shreds in front of everyone again, like last time?

And then get beaten half to death again?

"Hm?"

Jiang Tian's gaze swept across the room, then suddenly stopped.

In a corner of the Poetry Gathering sat a familiar figure: Xiao Ce, his friend from his previous life.

The other man had clearly spotted him too. A flicker of worry flashed through his eyes, and his lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something. In the end, he held back.

Soon, everyone began heading up to the second deck, their footsteps thudding on the wooden stairs.

Jiang Tian was about to climb up when someone tugged his sleeve from behind.

"Tian, what are you doing here?"

It was Xiao Ce's voice, low and urgent, with a note of unease.