Chapter 77

Seventy-Nine, Sword Inquiry at Peach Valley

Cai Shou hugged the cat and hunched her shoulders.

She stole a glance at the heavy Xian Die Nu… hmm, so heavy, if I dropped it, wouldn’t it crush him?

Also, is the Miss angry? Is she angry at Cai Shou for acting on her own, or at Master Ouyang for being utterly clueless and making the Miss lose face? Or both?

The round-faced little maid thought silently.

The stunning woman, who hadn’t painted her plum-blossom makeup during her midday nap, let out a cold snort and turned back to her room, her eyes holding a faint trace of irritation.

Upon closer thought, she hadn’t truly wanted to get to know this Ouyang Lianghan—she had always been the center of attention since childhood, never once ignored like this.

Regardless of whether this was some kind of male tactic described in books—pretending disinterest to lure interest.

But when it actually happened, this feeling of being dismissed still rankled her strong sense of self-respect.

Cai Shou put down the cat and hurried after her, soothing from behind:

“Miss, Miss Xie has been bedridden recovering from illness, and Master Ouyang was rushing to deliver meals—it’s only natural, after all… we’re not that close, are we? And now that I think about it, he averted his gaze properly—he truly is a gentleman.”

On the beauty couch, Su Guoer tilted her head and asked:

“Who wants to get close to him? Whether he’s a gentleman or not has nothing to do with me. Only Sister Xie and you, this lovesick little maid, are so eager to crowd around.”

“But…”

“No buts.”

Su Guoer pouted, speaking with casual indifference:

“I’m not as bored as you two—I’ll never pine after men.

“Starting today, remember to lock the back gate of the plum grove, and don’t let people wander in like today. And don’t let Sister Xie leave either. It’s just disturbing my peace, hmph.”

“Yes, Miss.”

…

“Why are you in such a hurry, Senior Brother?”

“No, nothing. I ran into a small mishap on the way.”

“What mishap?”

“Someone carelessly threw something.”

“That needs proper discipline.”

“Forget it, forget it. Next time.”

In another woman’s room, thick with the scent of scrolls, Ouyang Rong wiped his sweat and shook his head before the curious Xie Ling.

He exhaled in relief, took out the meals from the food box, and placed them on the table.

The situation had just been too dangerous—he’d nearly been splattered with dog’s blood.

Sigh, being handsome has its downsides.

Ouyang Rong sighed inwardly.

Still, he needed to reflect: his sense of smell wasn’t sharp enough. Had it been, he should’ve turned around and fled the moment he stepped into that plum-blossom deep chamber. But he’d clung to a sliver of hope—after all, he’d come this far, and his legs were trembling from hunger…

Ouyang Rong wasn’t entirely sure whether the Fubao worth ten thousand merits in the Pure Land Palace of Donglin Temple could send him home.

But his overall judgment suggested a high probability.

After all, the Pure Land Palace had precedents of ascension to the Pure Land, and the four-character stone inscription triggering the blessing was called “Return Home”—literally, “Go Back and Come Again.”

Surely they wouldn’t spend ten thousand merits just to have him recite “Ode to Returning Home” with heartfelt emotion?

That’d be hilarious.

He could recite it by heart.

So sometimes hope works like this—it makes you believe deeply one moment, doubt the next, yet still compels you to press forward anyway.

Before redeeming the Pure Land Palace’s blessing, Ouyang Rong didn’t want to leave too many ties behind.

It wasn’t that Weilai wasn’t cute, or that his junior sister wasn’t delightfully contradictory, or that his aunt wasn’t warm.

Nor was it that this current identity felt unnatural to him.

Quite the opposite—he felt perfectly at ease, even somewhat certain this was his past and future life, because not only did his appearance match, but so did his tastes—he loved spicy food, yes, and also excelled at reading and studying.

It wasn’t even that he was a Kaoyan fanatic who’d itch all over if he didn’t study for the exam daily—well, perhaps there was still a tiny bit of lingering discontent…

But these weren’t the main reasons. It was… a wanderer returning home needs no excuse.

Ouyang Rong felt that even if he became utterly immersed in this world, finished controlling the floods, left Longcheng County, traveled to Luoyang, Chang’an, the frontier, Lingnan… and after decades of wandering, built a great legacy,

Ten, twenty, thirty years later, no matter what kind of man he became, he’d still be unable to resist returning to the Pure Land Palace, tracing his fingers over that rough four-character stone inscription, and finally choosing to redeem the blessing.

A single hope of returning home—no matter how wild or reckless the wanderer, he’d always turn back.

This was his root—he couldn’t forget it.

Ouyang Rong felt that no matter what, he had to redeem the “Return Home” blessing first, then consider what came after.

If he couldn’t return, he’d give up.

If he did return, he’d give up too.

Not to mention, this was one of his original intentions for descending the mountain to control the floods and fight the tyrants.

Never forget your original intention.

This was also what Ouyang Rong told himself every time he couldn’t resist invoking “Vast Righteous Qi.”

If he truly returned home, what would he do with these deep, eighteen-centimeter-long ties he’d left behind? Cheat someone into marriage? Seduce them?

You’re something else, Ouyang Rong.

At a round table where two sat, Xie Ling bit her chopsticks, her eyes flicking upward, secretly watching someone.

Seeing her senior brother bent over his meal, seemingly lost in thought, she said nothing to disturb him.

The meal passed in silence.

After eating, Ouyang Rong rose to clear the table, packed the dishes into the food box, and prepared to leave.

Xie Ling smiled lightly and spoke: “Senior Brother, do you have time this afternoon?”

Ouyang Rong paused, then nodded: “Nothing important… even if there was, it’s not urgent. Why do you ask?”

Xie Ling, still limping slightly, shuffled to the bedside and sat down, exhaling.

She hesitated, then spoke honestly:

“Mainly because I’m still physically unfit to go out. There’s something I’d like to ask you to run an errand for me, though… it’s not urgent.”

Ouyang Rong didn’t leave immediately. He washed two apples, tossed one to his junior sister, sat down, and bit into his own:

“Speak, Junior Sister.”

Xie Ling bit her lip, her expression tinged with regret:

“This time, while staying temporarily in Longcheng County, besides assisting Senior Brother, I wanted to attend a grand event. But due to my injury these past days, I missed it. Still, I’m restless—I’d like you to find out the results for me.”

“Where to inquire?”

Ouyang Rong’s expression turned curious; after a pause, he asked differently:

“What kind of grand event is this? More exciting than my Dragon Boat Festival?”

“Senior Brother’s… can’t compare to it.”

Her willow-like eyes sparkled as she gazed at the confident man before her, smiling faintly: “Also, Senior Brother, haven’t you noticed that lately, there’ve been far more martial cultivators around Penglang Ferry in Longcheng County?”

“I hadn’t noticed. But lately, the city’s security has declined a bit—Liu Liu has been running over there often.” Ouyang Rong’s expression grew thoughtful.

“I used to go often to the West Market—not just to be a sucker at Yuanming Tower, but also gathering information, planning to take leave after your new water-control project was announced. But unfortunately…” Xie Ling sighed.

Ouyang Rong smiled apologetically.

The Xie woman gave him a slightly resentful glance, then asked: “Senior Brother, do you still remember the Cloud Dream Sword Marsh and the Wu-Yue female cultivators you mentioned before?”

“Can’t forget—I worry every day their courtyard will flood and drown our Longcheng.” Ouyang Rong sighed, then asked: “Is this connected to these martial qi cultivators?”

Xie Ling gazed out the window, her expression dreamy:

“The Cloud Dream Sword Marsh isn’t just the leading hidden sect of the southern martial world—it’s also the ancestral temple of sword arts. By tradition, every five years, the Cloud Dream female cultivators hold a Sword Inquiry gathering at a place called Peach Valley within the Cloud Dream Marsh.

“At that time, all sword cultivators from north and south who seek the sword path will come—sword heroes, Daoists, Confucians, martial artists… as long as they’re not sorcerers, any martial qi cultivator may bring their sword.”

“The sword is the gentleman’s weapon. Junior Sister also wields a sword—so you want to try?”

“I do want to learn something, but more than the Sword Inquiry, I want to meet someone.”

“Your dream lover?”

“Don’t joke, Senior Brother.” Xie Ling glared at him, then narrowed her eyes:

“Her name is Zhao Qingxiu. She’s this generation’s Yue Chu Zi of the Cloud Dream Sword Marsh—same age as me, but far more renowned. But that’s natural: legend says each generation’s Yue Chu Zi, chosen by divine artifacts in Wu-Yue, inherits sword arts born of innate knowledge, and is implicitly recognized as the supreme sword master. This lineage has endured for ages, making her famous both inside and outside the martial world.

“And if I’m not mistaken, this year’s Peach Valley Sword Inquiry, where the peach branches are broken for duels, will be the first time the Cloud Dream Sword Marsh sends her out into the world to challenge all the young sword prodigies.”

Xie Ling turned to him earnestly: “But the Peach Valley Sword Inquiry has already ended. Yet Longcheng County is close to the Cloud Dream Marsh and a vital hub for water transport—many martial cultivators are dispersing after the event. Senior Brother, please help me find out…”

Good brothers, sometimes tweaking typos or polishing sentences in the backend causes chapter comments to vanish—it’s not Xiao Rong deleting them…