"Mr. Li says that this flying sword did not come from Mount Shu."
Mr. Lu Zicheng, the tutor who was the spirit of that mutton-fat jade cup, sat properly among the guests and interpreted for Li Xingtang.
To show due formality, and also to avoid any appearance of impropriety, Shen Le had invited Mr. Lu to sit with them—having the household tutor accompany guests was a common ancient courtesy. Whether Daoist Qingyue was accustomed to it or not, Li Xingtang adapted to it quite well.
He could speak normally and freely too, without worrying that if he refused them, the guest would suspect Shen Le of interfering:
After all, Shen Le was not doing the interpreting. He certainly would not make up some excuse on his own to turn them down!
Thus, an odd situation arose in the living room. The flying sword buzzed and trembled, perhaps expressing an opinion, perhaps not;
Li Xingtang translated the flying sword's meaning. Of course, Daoist Qingyue could not hear the Artifact Spirit, so Mr. Lu had to relay it once more;
After Mr. Lu finished translating, Daoist Qingyue responded, and another round of interpretation began...
"Of course, of course. Back in the Tang Dynasty, our sect had not yet established itself in Mount Shu." Daoist Qingyue nodded rapidly. "This humble Daoist did not come to claim that this flying sword belongs to our sect, nor do I intend to invite it back to our mountain gate. It is simply that many of my fellow disciples and martial nephews spent one or two years in the snowy mountains, enduring much hardship..."
Shen Le wore a proper smile and sat without moving, as though he had heard nothing. Mm, you wasted your time and suffered because of your own misjudgment. What did that have to