He, Seems to Be Glowing.

As the saying goes, "If you often walk by the river, you're bound to get your shoes wet"...

Zeng Anmin looked at the strange gazes the students in the schoolhouse were giving him and sighed inwardly.

At this moment, he stood right at the doorway, a copy of the "Imperial Academy" still in his hand.

As for Qi Dachun, since he was merely his book boy, the Teaching Master didn't bother with him and sent him back.

Zeng Anmin had no heart to flip through the book in his hand, his mind wandering to other matters instead.

Time passed slowly.

He gradually grew accustomed to it.

"Ding~"

The noon dismissal bell rang.

The Teaching Master let the students leave for lunch.

Then, expressionless, he walked up to Zeng Anmin, gave a cold snort, and with a single finger pointed beside him.

"Bo~"

A milky-white aura formed a visible small ring, encircling Zeng Anmin.

"With this ring here, if you leave, I'll know the moment you do."

"No lunch for you!"

The Teaching Master said this flatly, then turned and walked out.

"Grumble~"

Zeng Anmin had just stepped into the Martial Dao Danyang Realm yesterday, and his body was in dire need of nourishment. Now, the gnawing emptiness in his stomach was unbearable.

"Old bastard..."

He was too hungry—every cell in his body was rebelling against him.

If he didn't eat soon, he'd probably pass out on the spot.

This was no joke. A martial artist who had entered the ranks consumed two to three times as much food as an ordinary person.

No choice! He had to eat.

Zeng Anmin took a deep breath. He needed to think of a way to get someone to bring him food—even just a few steamed buns would do, to suppress this awful feeling in his gut.

"Brother Quanfu."

Zhang Lun, his face gentle and carrying a faint smile, walked up to Zeng Anmin.

"Brother Tongyu!" Zeng Anmin's face lit up with a smile when he saw Zhang Lun.

Though they hadn't known each other long, Zeng Anmin already considered him a friend.

Yesterday's explanation had benefited him immensely.

Zhang Lun glanced left and right, then, taking advantage of no one watching, slipped two slightly cold steamed buns into Zeng Anmin's hands.

"My mother made these. I, your foolish elder brother, have always loved them. Try some."

Zeng Anmin was momentarily stunned.

He could tell from Zhang Lun's clothes that his family was far from well-off.

These two buns were probably his entire lunch.

Zeng Anmin quickly refused, "You eat them. I'll be fine."

"It's nothing. I had my mother prepare extra today on purpose."

Zhang Lun stood in front of Zeng Anmin, blocking the view, and said with a smile, "I, your foolish elder brother, will shield you. Even if others see, they won't gossip."

This...

He was moved!

Brother Tongyu, I've decided—from now on, you're the top of the Holy Dynasty's Ten Outstanding Youths!

It was just two steamed buns. Zeng Anmin wasn't about to be so stubborn as to refuse them outright. He wolfed them down in a few quick bites.

At that moment, he finally understood Qi Dachun's terrifying appetite.

"Delicious!"

Zeng Anmin's eyes lit up, and he looked at Zhang Lun, saying, "Aunt's cooking is truly excellent!"

This wasn't empty flattery. Under his Father's care, what good things hadn't he eaten?

In the Governor's Mansion, ordinary meat-stuffed buns like these had long since been off the menu.

He never expected a common housewife to have such skill.

Truly, masters are found among the people.

"Heh, if you like them, I'll bring you some more tomorrow, Brother."

Zhang Lun's lips curled into a smile.

With his talent, he had heard plenty of praise since childhood. If Zeng Anmin had praised him, it wouldn't have stirred a single ripple in his heart.

But Zeng Anmin praising his mother—that made him feel deeply pleased.

"You're such a good man!" Zeng Anmin couldn't help but hand out a good-person card. He was about to speak again.

Then a voice, utterly indifferent, rang out.

"Zhang Lun, have you considered what I mentioned yesterday? How goes it?"

Zeng Anmin watched as a youth, dressed in the most lavish and extravagant attire, approached from not far away.

The youth held a folding fan in his hand, his face square and broad. At first glance, his eyes seemed resolute.

But if one looked closely, a flicker of gloom could be seen from time to time.

Behind him followed a burly man with a tiger's stride and a dragon's gait.

The brute's temples bulged, his gaze sharp as a torch, warily eyeing everyone.

"At least a Martial Artist who has entered the ranks." Zeng Anmin's Phoenix Eyes narrowed slowly as he covertly sized up the brute.

"Young Master Wang Lin, there's no need to bring up yesterday's matter again."

Zhang Lun's smile vanished the moment he saw this person approach.

Expressionless, he said coldly:

"The Shuidu Order is not something I'll give you. A hundred taels of gold? Even a thousand is nothing but dirt."

The Shuidu Order?

Zeng Anmin listened, suddenly understanding.

Yesterday, when he first entered the academy, the master had given Zhang Lun a jade token.

It was said that holding this Shuidu Order allowed one to enter the Library of Past Sages at Shuidu Academy.

Inside were stored the handwritten works of Confucian predecessors.

For a Confucian Cultivator, it was a great fortune.

Wang Lin listened, his smile not reaching his eyes as he stared at Zhang Lun for a moment, then said coldly:

"If you don't want silver, that's fine too. If you're willing to give me the Shuidu Order, this young master can secure a future for you."

"Hah." Zhang Lun let out a faint laugh:

"I appreciate the young master's kindness, but I'd rather fight for my own future."

Though polite, every word pushed the other away.

"Shua!"

Wang Lin closed his folding fan, nodded faintly, and said no more:

"Since you're so stubborn, then farewell. A Da, let's go."

Watching Wang Lin's retreating figure, Zeng Anmin frowned and asked Zhang Lun:

"What's this man's background?"

"The Young Master of Prince Jiang's Estate in Two Rivers Prefecture." Zhang Lun waved his hand dismissively:

"Just a man who relies on his family's power."

The Young Master of Prince Jiang's Estate?

Zeng Anmin slowly recalled.

He had come to Two Rivers Prefecture with his father only four years ago. Though he had never met this Wang Lin, he had heard of his reputation.

As a Confucian scholar, before even turning eighteen, he had already reached the Eighth-Rank Cultivation Realm.

That could be considered exceptional talent.

"Offending a noble like that—won't it cause trouble?"

Zeng Anmin didn't want to reveal his identity, so he frowned at Zhang Lun.

Hearing these words, Zhang Lun instead furrowed his brow.

He looked up at Zeng Anmin, his gaze turning slightly disappointed:

"Brother Quanfu, if we Confucian Cultivators are full of fear and hesitation from the very start of our cultivation, our path will surely become a self-made cage!"

As he spoke, his voice grew stern:

"How can we bow and scrape to the powerful? Would our thoughts not be free and unhindered?!"

Zeng Anmin, hearing this, felt an involuntary shame well up inside him.

He had never imagined that within Shuidu Academy, there was hidden a scholar of such noble character.

"Brother Tongyu misunderstands. I am not afraid."

Zeng Anmin smiled and shook his head.

"It's just that that fellow just now claimed he could help you win a bright future..."

"Heh."

Zhang Lun naturally caught the jest in Zeng Anmin's words. He gave a light laugh and said calmly:

"If no one lifts me to the azure clouds, I shall tread the snow and reach the summit myself."

"Though I am but a scholar, I stand seven feet tall—how could I not carve out a clear and bright world on my own?!"

Zeng Anmin stared dazedly at Zhang Lun before him, as if watching a rising star.

"I am shamed, shamed. I lack such ambition as Brother Tongyu."

"All I seek in this life is half a jug of Qing wine, one gaunt horse, two acres of good fields, and three hundred million idle silver..."

"Haha!!"

Zhang Lun could not help but laugh.