A Scholar's Stroke

Chapter 20: The Scholar with the Pen

From the banks of the Golden Water River in East Chicken Alley, one enters the Worry-Free Cave.

As the light rapidly faded away behind him, Huang Shang gave his fire-starter a shake.

The fire-starters of this era were crafted from sweet potato vines; even after being blown out, the embers would continue to smolder within.

When needed, one only had to give it a flick against the wind to reignite the flame.

Such specialized tinder could keep a spark alive for an entire day, making it quite convenient.

Yet, even as the flame caught and illuminated the path ahead, Huang Shang still felt as though he had arrived in another world.

It was not merely the foul, filthy stench of the underground waterway; the most terrifying aspect was the howling, malicious wind that swept through, sounding like the vengeful spirits of a mass grave demanding a life.

An ordinary person would not be able to sense this aura.

At most, they would feel a chill and a sense of psychological oppression.

But with his literary qi circulating, Huang Shang could clearly grasp the flow of this aura.

Within the Dao Scripture, there are many methods of visualization.

White Bone Contemplation, Asura Contemplation, Jade Maiden Contemplation, Ascension Contemplation.

These are all methods to visualize heavy tribulations, overcome fear, resist temptation, and ultimately strengthen the soul.

Huang Shang absorbed their essence to design a Heart Refining Contemplation of his own.

In this world, he could not undergo lightning tribulations, nor could he even manage to project his soul from his body.

Thus, there was no need to aim too high; he only needed to keep his feet on the ground and refine his heart and spirit.

His greatest fear was the exposure of his identity.

Through this visualization, Huang Shang's willpower gradually became increasingly resilient, and his perception of the outside world became increasingly sensitive.

Even when amidst a dense crowd, he could immediately detect if someone were secretly sizing him up from hundreds of meters away.

Now, inside the Worry-Free Cave, the death qi was thick—a clear and unmistakable guide—so he simply followed this aura and strode forward.

It was not that he had gained a bit of strength and was now recklessly bold.

Rather, it was because Xu Feng was following in the shadows; hesitation at this moment was entirely unnecessary.

The deeper he went, the more Huang Shang understood why Kaifeng Prefecture was helpless against this lawless land.

The Worry-Free Cave was truly a sprawling network; beyond the original waterways, it had undergone several modifications, making it comparable to the most complex of mazes.

Let alone catching criminals, even for a bailiff, finding the way back after venturing deep inside was no easy task.

But Huang Shang followed the death qi, heading wherever it was thickest.

By not taking a single wrong turn, he reached an open area after a quarter of an hour, where faint lamplight flickered.

Huang Shang slowed his pace, and just as he was about to scout the situation, three black shadows lunged out from the side.

"Slow!"

Just as they were about to pounce upon him, a sharp voice rang out, and the three suddenly held back, spreading out to surround him.

By the light of the fire, Huang Shang saw that these three were disciples of the Beggar Sect carrying sacks.

One of them was the very same person who had intercepted him halfway and tried to attack him while retreating.

It was this beggar who had ordered the other two to stop.

Enemies often cross paths on a narrow road!

"Yo, isn't this the little scholar? You actually found your way here?"

The beggar looked Huang Shang up and down, baring his teeth in a sickening grin. "Looking at how tender you are, did you come here to play with us?"

Huang Shang recalled what he had said earlier about young women being dragged into the Worry-Free Cave, suffering a fate worse than death.

At the time, he couldn't be sure if it was mere intimidation, but now, sensing the various evil thoughts and death qi swirling around this man with his literary qi, he was certain. A fierce look appeared in his eyes: "Thieves deserve to die!"

"Just you?"

The beggar was unperturbed and was about to say more, but Huang Shang, not wanting to hear his disgusting voice any longer, drew the Zhuge Pen from his sleeve.

"A Judge's Pen?"

The beggar looked surprised.

In the martial arts world, the Judge's Pen was a formidable and exotic weapon, known as the "Yama's Judge" for its ability to cut short a life.

However, such a weapon required years of bitter practice just to be viable in combat. This scholar clearly knew no martial arts before; how could he suddenly wield a Judge's Pen?

Yet, he felt no fear, clenching his fists and charging straight at him.

However, the Zhuge Pen in Huang Shang's hand did not use the standard techniques of a Judge's Pen—no poking, stabbing, pressing, or flicking. Instead, the pen moved like a dragon, and in the blink of an eye, he slashed two large characters into the air before him.

These two characters looked both like Three Academies Regular Script and like symbols of the Eight Trigrams. They were—

Thunder!

Heaven!

That day, Huang Shang realized the utility of literary qi and wrote the Eight Verses of I Ching on paper.

Among them...

Thunder is "The thunder rolls, the superior man cultivates himself through awe," corresponding to the Zhen Hexagram in the Eight Trigrams.

Heaven is "Heaven moves with vigor, the superior man strives for self-improvement," corresponding to the Qian Hexagram.

If the Eight Verses of I Ching were the initial manifestation of literary qi, then the stroke of thunder and the stroke of heaven now combined to form the Thirty-Four Hexagrams of I Ching, the Great Power Hexagram—this was a technique of literary qi.

Thunder rumbles in the heavens, its momentum is Great Power!

Once this hexagram was formed, the literary qi suddenly found an outlet. Huang Shang pointed his Zhuge Pen straight out, and the literary qi whistled forward. The beggar felt a massive force surge toward him; his arms were knocked aside, and he was struck directly in the chest, instantly sent flying by the impact.

Mid-air, he spat out a mouthful of blood, his chest caved in, and he slammed into the ground like a broken sack, breathing his last immediately.

The other two beggars were horrified.

This scholar had killed their companion without the slightest sign of internal energy circulation—what kind of method was this?

Filled with shock and rage, they slowly retreated, unaware that the fingers Huang Shang used to grip the Zhuge Pen were turning slightly white, his heart filled with annoyance.

Because he had used too much literary qi.

The dead beggar might have looked imposing, but his martial arts were actually meager; he was just an ordinary disciple of the Beggar Sect, unranked in the pugilistic world, capable only of bullying those without martial arts.

Although Huang Shang had not been practicing for long, the literary qi within him was the accumulation of over a decade of reading.

Every scholar possesses literary qi, but they sit upon a treasure mountain without knowing how to enter it. Huang Shang had developed it, which, in the words of martial artists, was equivalent to suddenly gaining over a decade of internal strength.

Of course, literary qi cannot be compared to internal energy and measured simply by years, but using it to deal with a beggar was like using a butcher's knife to slaughter a chicken.

Yet, as it was his first time and he lacked experience, that single strike had drained his literary qi completely.

What was he to do now?

Could it be that I need Xu Feng to step in just to deal with a few cannon fodder?

Huang Shang smiled bitterly to himself. Looking at the beggar's corpse and thinking of how the evil of human nature was laid bare in this cave—having witnessed countless tragic and inhumane events—he felt no discomfort after killing. Instead, he felt a sense of mental clarity after punishing evil and promoting good.

At this very moment, the consumed literary qi suddenly rushed back into his body.

Huang Shang was stunned.

But soon, his eyes lit up as he formed a hypothesis.

He might have discovered the true advantage of literary qi.

Internal energy is consumable; every move drains it, and once the old is gone, new energy must be generated from the dantian.

Literary qi is different. After Huang Shang unleashed it, it acted like an invisible current lingering in the surroundings, which could be drawn back into the body and used again.

However, this was just a conjecture; whether it was true remained to be verified.

"Die, thief!"

Since Xu Feng was there to guard him, Huang Shang strode forward and slashed twice more.

Still thunder in the heavens, Great Power!

His technique was not like ordinary martial arts; there was no such thing as parrying or countering.

It was like a shockwave pushing horizontally; if you could block it, you could, but if you couldn't, you had to take it head-on unless you could dodge it.

The three beggars had originally sensed someone approaching and intercepted them in the narrow passage, but they hadn't expected to lift a rock only to drop it on their own feet, forced to turn and fight back.

In an instant, the second beggar was struck as if by lightning, blood spraying wildly as he was sent flying.

This time, Huang Shang controlled his strength, consuming only about fifty percent of his literary qi, yet still defeating his enemy in one blow.

He then caught up to the third and did the same.

Having defeated enemies with single strokes in succession, he drew upon the literary qi again, and sure enough, the dissipated power returned to his body.

"Decisive in killing, truly worthy of being a future grandmaster!"

As the two severely wounded beggars collapsed miserably on the ground, Xu Feng expressed his admiration.

No one knew what kind of personality Huang Shang had in his youth, but his current style suited his own temperament perfectly.

Huang Shang, racing against time, began to interrogate them: "In the Worry-Free Cave today, have any other outsiders entered?"

The beggar was already on the verge of death, but Huang Shang's voice was filled with a certain power, and he answered subconsciously: "Yes... three people..."

"In which direction?"

"Western suburbs... western suburbs..."

Huang Shang asked the other beggar, and after confirming the information, Xu Feng stepped out.

His expression was grave: "There are three enemies; the next encounter will surely be a bitter battle. You should go back. If we..."

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by Huang Shang: "Do not speak of this again!"

These resolute words moved Xu Feng deeply, but he had to refuse.

Huang Shang was still too weak to participate in the clash between Reincarnators; following him would only be a burden.

Xu Feng didn't waste words, drawing a dagger and holding it against his own throat: "If you don't go back, I will end my life right here!"

"This feels like the heroine's trope..."

Huang Shang inwardly grumbled, his eyes widening. The two stared at each other for a moment before he let out a deep sigh, bowed, and said, "Brother Xu, your great kindness is etched into my heart. I shall never betray your trust; I will certainly uncover the Western Xia conspiracy and protect the peace of our Great Song!"

With that, he turned and departed.

Listening to those parting words echoing through the cave, Xu Feng rubbed his head, genuinely touched, yet he dared not delay and headed toward the western suburbs.

However, he did not know that not long after he left, the ground suddenly bulged, and a head poked out, gazing in the direction Huang Shang had gone with eyes full of burning intensity.

(The recent chapters have been quite long, please show your support!)

Thanks to book friends "Feng Yu Wu Fei," "Purple Nether Illusion Heart (Heart Lotus)," "Heaven Crystal Hun Tian Treasure Mirror," "Brother Tutu," "Tianxia," "elgnze," and "Kuai Meitao" for their tips.