Celebrating the Festival

"By the way, I heard Wen Zehao got his engagement called off—is that true?"

After finishing the official business, Deng Ziyang brought up a juicy piece of gossip. He'd heard it from a servant that morning and had come specifically to ask Chen Ming about it.

His face was full of schadenfreude, making no effort to hide his dislike for Wen Zehao.

Chen Ming nodded. "It's true."

"Hahaha..."

Deng Ziyang laughed heartily. "Heaven has eyes. I knew it—there's no way he could have all the good luck."

Chen Ming asked curiously, "Do you have some grudge against him?"

"Not really. I just can't stand him."

Got it. Just jealousy.

Deng Ziyang asked eagerly, "So why did Huo Qianqian suddenly refuse to marry him? Did she fall for someone else?"

"No idea. But with such a big stir, it's probably not going to end well."

"This is going to be fun to watch. Old Ghost Huo isn't young anymore—who knows how many years he has left. Now that Huo Qianqian's marriage to Wen Zehao is off, the happiest ones are Old Ghost Huo's disciples. Just wait—when he kicks the bucket, they'll be fighting tooth and nail over the inheritance."

"With Huo Chengkun's cultivation, he should be able to live another twenty years, right?"

Chen Ming thought he was worrying too much.

Deng Ziyang chuckled. "You don't know the whole story. Think about it—with Old Ghost Huo's skill, why has he been holed up in Huo Manor, never stepping out?

A Sixth-Rank expert, yet he runs something like a martial arts school and takes on so many students. Don't you think that's a bit beneath him?"

Huh?

Now that he mentioned it, it did seem odd.

There were plenty of martial arts schools in Qingfeng City, but most of their masters were only Seventh or Eighth Rank.

A Sixth-Rank expert was considered a Second-Rate fighter even across the entire Great Jin Dynasty.

The martial world's rule: Third Rank and above was First-Rate.

Sixth to Fourth Rank was Second-Rate.

Ninth to Seventh Rank was Third-Rate.

Those without a rank didn't even count.

In Qingfeng City, a Sixth-Rank was already a notable figure.

Chen Ming said, "Brother Deng, don't keep me in suspense."

Deng Ziyang lowered his voice and whispered in his ear, "I once heard the old man say that Old Ghost Huo probably has some old internal injuries. All these years, he's been buying rare medicinal herbs to suppress the damage. Who knows when it'll flare up and kill him."

"Ah?"

Chen Ming was a bit startled. He'd accidentally stumbled onto an even bigger piece of gossip.

"This isn't exactly a secret in Qingfeng City. Old Ghost Huo just wants to find an heir to pass on his skills and take care of his granddaughter. But he's blind—he actually picked Wen Zehao, that useless pretty boy. The marriage fell through, and now they're probably enemies."

Deng Ziyang's face was full of glee.

It was clear how much resentment he held toward Huo Chengkun.

Chen Ming didn't know how to respond.

After all, he had no grudge against Huo Chengkun.

Right now, he was working at Huo Manor. In a way, Huo Chengkun was his boss, so it wasn't right to gossip about him behind his back.

He lowered his head and took a tactical sip of water.

"By the way, do the people at Huo Manor know you've entered a rank?"

"I haven't told them."

"I wonder what their faces will look like when they find out. Especially that Zhang Mingyu—he's always looked down on you."

Chen Ming smiled faintly.

He certainly wasn't going to reveal that he'd reached the Ninth Rank just to give Zhang Mingyu and the others a little shock. That would likely cost him his job as a sparring partner.

He had to admit, Deng Ziyang was a friend worth keeping.

Deng Ziyang was probably very curious about how someone with such ordinary talent had become a martial artist, but he didn't ask a thing.

Someone with that kind of boundaries was rare.

At nine o'clock, Chen Ming arrived at Huo Manor on time to continue his work as a sparring partner.

When he reached the training ground, he saw that Hong Mingquan and Zhang Mingyu weren't there. The other students were gathered in small groups, chatting idly.

As soon as they saw him arrive, they all stood up, lined up respectfully, and said in unison, "Greetings, Senior Brother Chen."

Last time, they'd been just as lazy, and during sparring, Chen Ming had beaten every single one of them. Now they were completely obedient.

Seeing that their attitude was acceptable, Chen Ming decided not to press the matter further.

He gave the orders: the junior disciples were to practice on the stakes, and those among the intermediate disciples whose names were called would spar with him. All the disciples obediently complied.

Before they knew it, an entire morning had passed.

Hong Mingquan and Zhang Mingyu still hadn't shown up—no telling where they'd run off to.

Chen Ming told the disciples to go about their business as usual, then left Huo Manor.

That afternoon, Chen Ming sat together with Deng Ziyang and the other two, discussing martial arts.

At first, Guan Peng kept his face rigid and barely spoke.

A fire burned in his chest—he was itching to redeem himself.

But as he listened, the expression on his face began to shift, and by the end, he was somewhat astonished.

This Chen Ming had actually laid out the secrets of his own blade technique without holding back.

As a seasoned practitioner, Guan Peng could tell at once that the man wasn't keeping anything to himself.

He grew restless in his seat. Is this really something I should be hearing?

In a little while, he and Chen Ming would be crossing blades. Listening to all this felt like cheating.

Yet Chen Ming's voice kept drilling into his ears, and the content held an irresistible pull for him. At the crucial points, Guan Peng's eyes lit up with excitement.

So that's how it is!

It can actually work like that?

The doubts that had been gnawing at Guan Peng suddenly cleared up. He was itching to try it out right away.

When he finally snapped out of it, his gaze at Chen Ming had grown complicated.

This man was utterly selfless—willing to share even the secrets of his blade technique with them.

At last, Guan Peng couldn't hold back. "Brother Chen, you've told us all the mysteries of your blade art. Aren't you afraid I'll beat you when we spar?"

Chen Ming's expression was calm. "If you can defeat me, I'll be very happy. That way, I can find the flaws in my own technique."

These words filled Guan Peng with deep shame. In contrast, he had been brooding over losing a single move yesterday. The gap in their cultivation was vast.

Zhuang Xiaotian praised him. "Brother Chen, a magnanimity like yours is truly admirable."

Deng Ziyang also felt humbled in his heart. He asked himself honestly—if it were him, he would never casually reveal the secrets of his blade art to others, not even to sworn brothers.

Chen Ming took in the reactions of the three men and knew his goal had been achieved.

Who wouldn't like a friend willing to share knowledge and skills selflessly?

He seized the moment. "Let's begin. Who wants to go first?"

"I'll go!"

The first to speak was unexpectedly Deng Ziyang. He smiled. "Don't fight me for it, little brothers. I've known Senior Brother this long and never sparred with him."

Since he put it that way, Guan Peng and Zhuang Xiaotian naturally had no reason to object. They stepped aside.

Deng Ziyang used a sword. "This sword art of mine is called Wind Chaser. I came by it by chance. It's quite exquisite, Senior Brother—you'll need to be careful."

Chen Ming held his blade horizontally and declared, "Please, enlighten me!"

P.S.: I don't want to start a new book. I'm sticking with this one for the whole year. Starting tomorrow, I'll stockpile drafts.