Chapter 510

"Hmph!"

Zhao Yang let out a cold snort, staring at the figure in the small boat on the lake.

This man was Wu Tong's master; he looked decent enough on the surface.

He scanned the surroundings, especially the awe in the eyes of many women—particularly the unmistakable admiration in Gan Zhi and Shi Lan's gazes just now.

"Just a bastard son. Look at his clothes—he couldn't even match the attire of my household servants, and he doesn't even have a single attendant with him." His tone dripped with contempt.

"I hear he was born to a lowly concubine, nearly twenty years old, yet has never set foot in a school—utterly ridiculous."

Zhao Yang grew angrier by the moment, but remembered this was the Xie Fu grounds; if this were the Zhao Mansion, such a bastard would never dare be so "brazen"—he'd have capsized the boat himself.

Gan Zhi felt a flicker of surprise and whispered:

"How did Xie Guan even get into the Grand View Garden?"

His name was not on the list of gentlemen and young ladies invited by the ladies today.

Yet here he was, walking in as if he belonged—wouldn't this infuriate Lady Yuan?

Zhao Yang turned his head, fixing Shen Kuan with a dark, venomous stare.

"Shen Lao, a bastard son—what does it matter?"

Zhao Yang spoke slowly.

Shen Kuan's pale eyes rolled slightly, fixing on the figure in the lake, stroking his beard as he pondered.

Zhao Yang continued: "Just make him fall in the water, lose some face—hardly a serious matter."

Shen Kuan smiled faintly at this: "The lake is treacherous; an accidental fall wouldn't be too serious."

Zhao Yang, hearing this, chuckled inwardly: "Who cares about the life of a bastard in the lake?"

Shi Lan, listening nearby, sighed inwardly.

Xie Guan and this Zhao family's fourth young master had never met before today.

Xie Guan had never once stepped beyond his courtyard, let alone set foot in the Grand View Garden.

But!

These men now harbored ill intent toward this Xie family's young master.

If it were another favored son from a major courtyard, they'd never dare.

But it was this neglected, motherless Xie Guan.

Shen Kuan now pulled out a small black flag, caressing it tenderly, subtly infusing it with a thread of spiritual soul force.

The flag seemed to come alive—black-smoke-wreathed demons burst forth, sending chills down the spine.

Shi Lan recoiled several steps; Gan Zhi's face paled.

Only Zhao Yang stared at the flag with wild excitement, his eyes filled with greed.

This was Shen Kuan's "Soul-Calling Flag," also known as the "Five Sons Soul-Binding" banner.

The demons within carried heavy grudges, forged through cruel methods.

Most horrifying of all, the banner concealed a demon spirit, nourished by the soul of its mother to sustain the other child spirits.

Any mortal who touched this flag would break into cold sweats, suffer days of headache and fever, and endure unbearable torment.

Among them was a lust demon—women who encountered it would strip off their clothes.

Shen Kuan loved it most, but he treasured it as a precious artifact; using it harmed his fortune and body, so he'd never dare use it himself.

Shen Kuan watched Gan Zhi and the other girl's fearful expressions, and a smile crept onto his face.

He pulled a demon infant from the flag, tapped its head lightly—and the infant dissolved into black mist.

Then he pointed at the boy in the lake.

"This man has no martial cultivation, no spiritual soul power. After today's fright, he'll never again face the water."

Once bitten by a snake, one fears a well rope for ten years.

The curtain of the pavilion fluttered in the wind, and a cold gust swept across their faces.

The black mist merged into the lake water.

Zhao Yang's smile widened—he waited for the man in the lake to stumble and fall, to perform a ridiculous, humiliating spectacle.

Though the weakest of the demons, this infant spirit, upon contact, could make even the strongest yang-charged men dizzy and disoriented.

Xie Guan was no exception.

Shen Kuan gazed at the lake surface and whispered with a smile:

"Hit!"

By the side of Hongjing Courtyard, the Eastern Pavilion stood tall.

Positioned in the most honored spot, it rose high above the surroundings, offering a full view of the lake—perfect for viewing the scenery.

The other pavilions around it seemed to deliberately keep their distance, leaving only this one with open space.

Beside it, besides the usual Xie Fu maids and servants, stood several warriors in black uniforms, hands resting on sword hilts, radiating stern authority.

In Wu Tong Courtyard, Lu Ya, the personal maid of the Fourth Young Lady of the main courtyard, felt uneasy.

She timidly glanced around—seven or eight warriors in martial attire, their gazes sharp as knives; she, a mere maid, was frightened.

Before Lu Ya sat the Fourth Young Lady of the main courtyard, Xie Ying.

She wore a water-green embroidered skirt, over which lay a moon-white Yingluo-patterned Zhaojun jacket, topped with a bright red crane cloak.

Her long hair cascaded like a waterfall, her face pale and elegant, her eyes tender and full of emotion.

"Ying'er, I'm sorry I'm late—you've endured so much gossip. Today, I'll settle this once and for all."

As she spoke!

The man gripped Xie Ying's delicate hand tightly; she blushed faintly, her cheeks flushing red.

Across from Xie Ying sat a burly man nearing thirty, dressed in plain black robes, a simple black belt cinched at his waist, no ornate ornaments.

His features were rugged, his beard thick and coarse, his nose high and sharp as a hanging gourd, his gaze steady and resolute.

This man was Sima Ting, Military Governor of Jiannan, whose marriage to Xie Ying had been arranged two years prior.

But!

A demonic rebellion erupted suddenly in Jiannan, delaying Sima Ting's return again and again, and thus postponing the wedding.

The warriors surrounding him were his personal guards, each having reached the "Spring Thunder" realm, their blood qi surging like smoke rising to the heavens.

Sima Ting himself had already broken through to the "Great Snow Mountain" realm; with one more step, he could enter the "Gazing at the Vast Sea" realm, and potentially ascend to the rank of Xuan Dan Martial God.

As autumn deepened, the two sat close together, Xie Ying leaning gently against Sima Ting's shoulder.

"Ting-ge, I'll follow whatever you decide."

Sima Ting smiled, gripping her hand tightly, his eyes filled with tenderness and regret.

"I'm sorry to make you suffer—perhaps you'll have to follow me to Jiannan, where life is harsh and lonely, nothing like the bustling splendor of Bianjing."

"But it's not all bad—there are great mountains and rivers there, you can ride horses across the frontier, and see the majestic snow-capped peaks." Sima Ting gently stroked Xie Ying's hair, speaking softly.

Xie Ying nestled against Sima Ting's chest.

"Marriage means following your husband to the ends of the earth. The common saying goes, 'If you marry a rooster, follow the rooster; if you marry a dog, follow the dog.' Wherever you go, I'll follow."

She smiled brightly, adding playfully: "Of course, if you fly up to the clouds, I won't be able to reach you."

Sima Ting affectionately pinched Xie Ying's delicate nose and laughed: "If the wars in Jiannan end and the west stabilizes, I'll find a patch of land, raise a few fat sons, and live a life of men tilling and women weaving—wouldn't that be bliss?"

"Who said I'd bear your children!"

Xie Ying's face flushed even redder, though inwardly she was surprised.

She hadn't expected that a man from the illustrious Sima clan would harbor such a pastoral dream.

He should be chasing a title of Battalion Commander.

Sima Ting, seeing the confusion on Xie Ying's face, explained slowly:

"Ying'er, do you know who I admire most in my life?"

Xie Ying fell silent, thinking.

This marriage had been arranged by their families; at first, she'd felt both hope and anxiety.

Hope, because every woman dreams of meeting a perfect husband.

Anxiety, because men of the Nine Great Clans often appeared noble but were rotten inside—disgusting in conduct, secretly acting like beasts, escaping the Xie Fu only to fall into another "jaws of the tiger."

Yet from their first meeting, they had instantly fallen for each other, understanding and cherishing one another.

Sima Ting showed none of the arrogance common among noble families; instead, he was warm-hearted and always courteous.

They exchanged sweat-stained handkerchiefs to express their affection; even when he was far away in Jiannan, he often sent letters, pouring out his longing.

Xie Ying smiled faintly—she knew well of Sima Ting's quirks, and whispered:

"Let me guess—among the people you admire most, there are three."

"Oh? Tell me!"

Xie Ying's eyes sparkled.

"First, of course, the Second Master of the Academy—his pen and sword shaped his life, bearing a reckless fame for fifteen years."

"The world says his sword is peerless, his calligraphy peerless. Half the romance of the Jianghu sixty years ago flowed into his three-foot blade."

Sima Ting nodded, smiling, his voice tinged with regret: "A sword flies through the sky, startling the old dragon in Dongting to wake. The Second Master is indeed one I deeply admire. Too bad such a wild, unrestrained man now lies bedridden—what a pity."

"For sixty years, the Jianghu needed no one else to watch—just that green robe riding his sword across the river. How many beauties shed tears of sorrow for him?"

Xie Ying continued: "The second, I'd guess, is the Third Master."

"Thirty years of grand ambitions told to mountain ghosts—ten thousand poems, a thousand cups of wine—when did he ever look up to kings or dukes?"

Thirty years of grand achievements told to the mountain spirits, poems by the thousand, cups of wine by the hundred—when did I ever deign to look upon princes and kings?

"Third Master's poetry captures three thousand years of spring and autumn; alone, he could wander freely through all under heaven."

Upon hearing this, Sima Ting's eyes flickered with deep reverence, yet he still shook his head and said with a trace of regret:

"I greatly admire Third Master's poetry. But alas, I was born into the noble Sima family, raised in luxury and silk, and never experienced the turbulent travels across states that Third Master knew—so I can never fully grasp his heart."

Xie Ying heard this, her gaze deepening in thought. She knew Sima Ting was a direct scion of the Sima clan, raised from childhood in wealth and splendor, a noble youth shaped by the clanging bells and ringing cauldrons of his lineage.

Who else but these few could inspire his admiration?

Sima Ting did not delay; instead, he spoke with solemn reverence:

"The one I most admire in my life is not of this age, yet his name echoes through eternity."

"Lu Chen, Lu Shenzhou."

"For three thousand years of the Warring States, then another thousand through Yan, Tang, and the Chaos, history could never escape this name. Since his appearance, no predecessor matched his talent, and no successor matched his breadth of spirit."

"He reached the zenith of power yet coveted no wealth or rank; his martial might was unmatched in the mortal world, yet he passed through Tianmen and found it wanting, choosing instead to die old in the mountains."

"The Shaobao shattered the He Lan mountain pass yet refused to claim the dragon's head of this world—I, Sima Ting, lack such talent and audacity; I dare only say:"

"Clear away the wicked, restore the imperial carriage, and ask not for a marquisate of ten Battalion Commander."

"Though I, Sima Ting, possess not one-thousandth of the Shaobao's realm, my heart still yearns for him."

Xie Ying silently took Sima Ting's hand and said gently but firmly:

"Ting-ge, you are the best in my heart—you need not compare yourself to anyone."

Upon hearing this, Sima Ting let out a bright, hearty laugh.

He shifted tone, asking with concern: "Ying'er, in the Xie Fu, who is close to you? Who do you worry about?"

Xie Ying paused at the question, her expression darkening slightly.

Her birth mother held low status in the Xie Fu, unloved and neglected; thus, her childhood there was miserable and humiliating. Had it not been for the clan's early arrangement of her marriage, her fate would have been even worse.

She shook her head softly and whispered:

"There are few close to me in the Xie Fu. My birth mother's status is so low that only she knows the cold and warmth of her own life—I feel no attachment to this grand mansion, and have long wished to leave it behind."

Sima Ting said tenderly:

"Ying'er, rest easy—henceforth, I am here for you."

Xie Ying recalled one person: a lady in the main courtyard, whose circumstances mirrored her mother's, yet who had repeatedly reached out to help her.

She had always cherished this kindness in her heart, but sadly, the gentle woman had been persecuted to death, leaving behind only a young child still ungrown.

He spoke calmly:

"He is my younger brother, not yet crowned—he struggles even more than I do within the Xie Fu. If Ting-ge could speak a kind word to the Old Matriarch, perhaps his lot might improve slightly."

"Who is he?"

"His name is Xie Guan—a most filial and well-mannered youth. Yet alas, this vast Xie Fu has no place for him."

Lu Ya nodded behind him; both Wu Tong and Young Master Guan were truly good people.

"Fine. I promise you, Ying'er."

At this moment!

On the lake, a small skiff glided gently toward them, instantly drawing all eyes.

Standing alone at the bow was a man of extraordinary bearing, captivating all who saw him.

Lu Ya's face showed surprise.

Xie Ying rose as well to look.

Sima Ting smiled faintly: "Is this youth from the Xie Fu?"

"What a handsome young man."

Seizing the moment, Lu Ya quickly replied: "General Sima, this youth is none other than Young Master Guan."

Xie Ying softly echoed: "Xie Guan!"

At once, more and more young ladies and gentlemen in the pavilion, even servants, turned their gazes toward the lake, watching the lone figure glide gracefully across the water.

"Hmm, he does possess an unusual air—even under the gaze of so many, he remains calm and composed. Rare indeed."

Xie Ying nodded in agreement: "I haven't seen Young Master Guan in a long time. His features don't resemble his father at all—they're more like his mother's."

Yet at that moment, Sima Ting's brow furrowed.

"How audacious!"

Sima Ting's eyes flashed golden, like a divine hand touching his pupils, piercing through layers of ripples to gaze into the lake.

Within the water, faint threads of malevolent spiritual essences stirred in secret.

This was the sign of his profound martial cultivation—his acupoints fully opened.

A malevolent entity was silently approaching Xie Guan.

Sima Ting had been ready to strike casually and scatter the demon.

But at that very moment!

His face changed abruptly—his expression revealed shock for the first time.

Suddenly, mist rose from the lake's surface, and brushstroke-like lines of ink coalesced upon the water—sharp, fluid, and effortlessly elegant, as if an immortal had dipped his brush and painted with ink.

Sima Ting murmured to himself: "This is Second Master's sword intent!"

～

【When you sail upon the lake, suddenly a ghostly face surfaces from the water.】

【A water ghost?】

【The water ghost roars and lunges at you.】

The following passage was duplicated! Already revised.

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(End of Chapter)