Poetry Gathering

Yuan Long fell silent for a long time before he finally couldn't help but ask.

"How did you manage to fuse two types of Momentum together?"

Jiang Tian was slightly stunned, subconsciously asking in return: "Master Yuan... you don't know how?"

"You brat!"

Yuan Long's old face flushed red. He slapped the back of Jiang Tian's head, his voice rising a few notches with a hint of embarrassment turned into anger. "What? Do I have to know how to do this?"

Jiang Tian rubbed the back of his head, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He then gave a light cough and began to explain his method for fusing the two types of Momentum in detail.

In truth, he could currently only fuse the two Momentum types focused on slaughter—Bear in the Cave and Tiger in a Cage—and was nowhere near mastering all five. But even so, this method was already astonishing enough.

Yuan Long listened with rapt attention, like a novice disciple at a Martial Arts Hall, occasionally interjecting with a question. His expression was as focused as a student thirsting for knowledge. In his cloudy, aged eyes, there flickered a youthful, eager intensity that hadn't been seen in a long time.

Jiang Tian answered them one by one. However, for some things, he felt he had explained them clearly enough, yet Yuan Long still wore a blank expression, his brows knitted into a knot. He had no choice but to be patient, breaking the concepts down and explaining them more meticulously, even demonstrating them several times with gestures.

The people in the Martial Arts Hall were completely stunned by this scene.

"My god—what am I seeing? Master Yuan is asking Jiang Tian for advice?!"

"This isn't right, is it? Could it be that Jiang Tian's attainments in martial arts have already surpassed Master Yuan's?"

"Hiss—"

Whispers rippled through the room like wind blowing across a wheat field. Some had their mouths hanging open, forgetting to close them; others held water bowls for so long they forgot to drink; and some had their fists frozen in mid-air, having completely forgotten to strike.

And so, the two of them talked for who knows how long. It wasn't until most of the disciples had left the courtyard and the setting sun had dyed the horizon a dark red that they finally stopped.

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

Yuan Long's face was flushed, like a child who had received a beloved toy. His cloudy, aged eyes were shining with a light so bright it was almost blinding.

"Using your method, in ten days—no! In five days, I will be able to fuse two types of Momentum together!"

After saying this, he paused, looking at Jiang Tian with a complex expression.

In that gaze, there was shock, appreciation, deep emotion, and something else that was hard to define.

Before, no matter how stunning Jiang Tian's performance was, he had only viewed him as a disciple of the Martial Arts Hall—well, a disciple with excellent bones and great comprehension.

But now, his gaze had completely changed.

He had begun to view Jiang Tian as an equal.

Or even—a teacher.

At night, Jiang Tian hummed a nameless tune in high spirits as he walked home.

The early spring night breeze still carried a hint of chill, feeling cool against his face, yet he found it exceptionally refreshing. The willow trees by the roadside had just sprouted tender buds, casting a faint, silvery-white sheen under the moonlight.

Although he hadn't reached Transformation Energy yet, the threat to his lifespan had been basically resolved. He now needed to consider what came next.

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

As his thoughts churned, his footsteps suddenly faltered—there was a figure at the entrance of the alley, possessing Manifest Energy cultivation!

Who was it?

His gaze turned cold instantly. Could it be that the Li Family had tracked him down? That shouldn't be; he had handled things cleanly that day and left no traces at the scene.

But the next moment, his tense expression relaxed slightly.

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

It was Wang Moshan's Manifest Energy attendant—what was his name again? Hou Tianzu.

A slight arc formed at the corner of Jiang Tian's mouth. He had been planning to settle scores with Wang Moshan after breaking through to Transformation Energy, but he hadn't expected the other party to deliver himself to his doorstep.

He walked over slowly. By the time he reached the man, he had already adjusted his expression—his face was filled with an unnatural smile, and his eyes were full of cowardice, looking exactly like a bookworm who had been scared out of his wits.

"Brother Hou."

Hou Tianzu was startled, turning his head to look over with a flash of suspicion in his eyes.

What was going on? Why hadn't he sensed even a shred of aura just now? This Jiang Tian had arrived beside him silently, like a ghost.

Seeing his expression, Jiang Tian cursed inwardly—he had forgotten that ever since learning Deer in the Snow, he would unconsciously carry that kind of Momentum while walking.

He hadn't been discovered, had he?

Fortunately, Hou Tianzu only frowned, assuming he had just been distracted, and didn't take the anomaly to heart.

He adjusted his expression, his face indifferent, his tone like he was ordering a servant: "Kid from the Jiang Family, come with me. My young master invites you to attend a poetry gathering."

"Alright, let me go tell my big brother." Jiang Tian bowed his head.

The moment his head was lowered, a flash of cold light darted through his eyes. By the time he looked up, he had returned to that harmless, innocent appearance.

"No! You cannot go!"

Jiang Minghai's brows were locked in a frown as he slapped the table, making the bowls and chopsticks clatter.

Bai Zhiruo, standing to the side, also tried to persuade him, her tone softer than Jiang Minghai's but equally firm: "You cannot go. That boy from the Wang Family... in short, just listen to your brother, and you'll be fine."

"Big brother." Jiang Tian wore a reassuring smile, his tone as relaxed as if he were discussing something trivial. "Don't worry. After what happened last time, how could I be foolish enough to go and provoke them? Your younger brother's brain was cleared out by that illness; I'm no longer that bookworm who doesn't understand the ways of the world."

Jiang Minghai opened his mouth, wanting to say something more.

Jiang Tian spoke before he could, his voice not loud, yet carrying a power that brought an inexplicable sense of calm: "Big brother, just set your heart at ease."

Having said that, he waved his hand at his older brother and turned to leave, his silhouette stretched long and straight under the moonlight.

Wang Moshan was the type of person who was typically good at nothing.

In his early years, he apprenticed at a Martial Arts Hall, but after three years of study, he failed to break through to Hidden Energy, so he simply changed paths and turned to literature.

However, he was a disaster at literature as well; the poems he wrote were utter nonsense, yet he insisted on having a high opinion of himself.

It was likely the confidence fed to him by the servants at home.

After studying for a while, he began hosting grand poetry gatherings throughout the city, pretending to be refined while fishing for fame and reputation.

The last one was the second poetry gathering this playboy had hosted.

Soon, he arrived at the location.

A large boat was moored by the river, standing two stories high, its hull painted in vermilion lacquer that shimmered with a dull glow under the moonlight.

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

The lower deck was used for drinking and watching dances; the sound of strings and bamboo flutes drifted faintly through the wooden planks, intermittent and broken.

The upper deck was reserved for reciting poetry and composing couplets, decorated quite elegantly with screens, zither tables, and incense burners all in place.

Every person attending the poetry gathering was required to write a poem, and the one who wrote the best would be rewarded with one hundred taels of silver.

By the time Jiang Tian arrived, the first segment—drinking and watching dances—was about to end.

"Oh my—"

A young man dressed in a white robe with gold-embroidered cuffs hurried over to greet him, wearing an exaggerated smile, his tone carrying a hint of complaint: "What happened, great talent? Why so late? We've already finished the dancing and the drinking—how about I have the dancers perform a solo piece just for you?"

Jiang Tian cupped his hands in a salute, a forced smile plastered on his face, his voice tinged with a touch of reserve: "Young Master Wang, I will just participate in the poetry gathering directly in a moment."

"Oh, alright then."

A hypocritical smile appeared on Wang Moshan's face as he affectionately draped an arm around Jiang Tian's shoulder, as if the person who had beaten Jiang Tian half to death last time wasn't him, but someone else entirely.

He turned his head and shouted toward the inside of the boat: "This is our Blackwater County's great talent, Jiang Tian. Everyone knows him, right?"

"We know him, we know him!"

"How could we not know him?"

A group of people chimed in one after another, their voices rising and falling.

Some wore strange smiles, the corners of their mouths twitching slightly as if they were struggling to hold something back.

Others simply lowered their heads, their shoulders shaking as they turned red from suppressing their laughter.

Why did this fool come? Could it be that he's going to do the same thing as last time and criticize Wang Moshan's poem as worthless in front of so many people?

And then get beaten half to death again.

"Hmm?"

Jiang Tian's gaze swept across the room and suddenly paused.

In the corner of the poetry gathering sat a familiar figure; it was his predecessor's good friend, Xiao Ce.

The other party clearly saw him too, a flash of worry crossing his eyes. His lips moved slightly as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he held back.

Soon, the crowd began to move toward the second floor, their footsteps thumping against the wooden stairs.

Just as Jiang Tian prepared to ascend the stairs, his sleeve was suddenly tugged from behind.

"Brother Tian, why are you here?"

It was the voice of Xiao Ce, kept very low and filled with a sense of urgency and unease.

(Brothers, do you see any issues with this chapter? The follow-up rate is so low.)

If you can't find the book by its title, try searching for the author; perhaps it just changed its name!