Chapter 604: The Broken-Armed Second Master, the Master

Bianjing, Peach Token Street.

At the end of this street stood a five-story brick-and-wood building, oriented north to south, with a hard mountain roof covered in green tiles like fish scales, layered and overlapping, faintly glimmering under the moonlight.

The first floor measured six bays in width and depth; the second floor, excluding the staircase, was one large open space, divided by bookshelves, with a pond called "Diligent Study Lake" carved before it.

The garden complex was constructed as a whole, comprising gardens named "Cultivating Virtue," "Poetry," "Books," "Ritual," "Changes," "Arithmetic," "Horsemanship," "Archery," and "Miscellaneous."

This place was the "Academy."

Just two plain characters, no decoration, no embellishment.

Yet it was the most revered place for scholars across the land.

The highest point of the Academy was the Cultivating Virtue Tower, originally where the Master had begun teaching and nurturing students.

Only five stories tall, so all other buildings in the Academy, and even the entire Peach Token Street, were built no higher than five stories out of respect.

At this moment!

At the entrance of the Cultivating Virtue Tower.

Forty students stood upright like pines, their breaths deep and contained, all of profound cultivation; gathered together, they formed a qi pattern like "a silver vase shatters, water spurts forth," as if a dragon coiled, poised to strike.

The Great Qi was vast, martial arts flourishing; only dozens possessed the Nine Grades of Xuan Dan, yet the Academy alone held twenty of them.

More astonishingly, the Academy held half of all martial masters in the Great Qi of the Upper Three Realms—this was why its name struck fear across the land.

At this moment, the forty remained silent, eyes fixed on the staircase entrance of the Cultivating Virtue Tower, as if awaiting some crucial moment.

This Cultivating Virtue Tower had once been the Master's residence for transmitting the Dao, teaching, and resolving doubts; now it was the dwelling of the Second and Third Masters, the most sacred place in the Academy.

"The Master is always punctual. Why is he late today?"

Someone whispered, voice tinged with doubt.

"Perhaps he was delayed by urgent matters."

Another speculated, yet his tone carried surprise—the Master never broke his schedule.

The middle-aged Confucian ahead, clad in a blue robe, his face refined, turned back and looked at them all, speaking solemnly: "A gentleman does not speak without propriety. We need only wait in stillness."

Those who heard bowed their heads in reverence, their expressions respectful, and fell silent.

In the Academy, honoring teachers and valuing the Dao was the foremost principle; propriety must never be lost at any time.

Among these forty, over a dozen were disciples or second-generation disciples of the Third Master, belonging to the same scholarly lineage.

The Second Master, however, had lived a free and unbound life, wandering the four corners of the land, never taking a single disciple to inherit his teachings or arts.

The crowd continued waiting under the moonlight!

On the fifth floor of the Cultivating Virtue Tower, the legendary sacred place where the Master once cultivated his spirit, now lay an eerie silence.

All of Bianjing, indeed the entire Great Qi, regarded this place with awe and curiosity; not even the dozens of monarchs of the Great Qi had ever been granted the honor to ascend to the fifth floor.

Since the Master vanished two hundred years ago seeking immortals in the Eastern Sea, this fifth floor had become the Second Master's place of convalescence.

The Second Master, the godlike figure within the Academy, his illness had always been a mystery—even within the Academy, knowledge of it was scarce.

Yet this legendary fifth floor was merely an old, modest upper chamber.

Moonlight filtered through the cracked window, spilling onto an aged desk, upon which lay a sword broken cleanly in two, as if recounting past glory and decay.

Behind the desk, a string of pearl curtains hung gently.

At the end of the curtains stood a middle-aged man with indistinct features, clad in a Confucian robe, silently gazing at the curtains.

He spoke softly: "Second Elder Brother, we are off to the Gathering of Blossoms."

From behind the curtains came a violent cough, as if tearing out his internal organs.

Then a low, hoarse voice slowly rose: "Master An, be careful on your journey."

Master An was the courtesy name of the Third Master—a fact known to few in the Academy.

"Wuxin, I've long wished for you to leave the Academy, yearning for it these many years."

Su Jing, courtesy name Wuxin.

The middle-aged man said calmly: "Wuxin is shrewd. If he merely wished for you to leave the Academy, he need not have gone to such lengths."

"He wants to know where the Master is, and why…"

"Wuxin clings too tightly. Even if he obtained the Master's corpse-transcendence method, he cannot escape human calamity…"

The coughing from behind the curtains grew heavier, each breath seeming to consume his very life.

Long moments passed before a voice came again.

"I am here. Rest easy."

The middle-aged man's face was filled with worry: "Second Elder Brother, your illness has worsened."

Night deepened; the Cultivating Virtue Tower under the moonlight grew even more solemn.

After a long while!

From behind the curtain, that self-mocking voice spoke again, laced with resignation and desolation: "I… this wretched form of mine was meant to be dead long ago. Cough… cough…"

The middle-aged man bowed his head, his expression darkened.

He whispered: "This will end."

"Second Elder Brother, I'm leaving!"

"Wait."

The middle-aged man, already turning away, turned back.

"Be cautious in all things."

"I know."

As the light footsteps faded into distance, the fifth floor fell silent once more.

Slowly, a withered hand lifted the curtain, revealing what lay within.

Inside the room stood two low white beds. The owner of the withered hand lay on the outer bed—a middle-aged man, hair disheveled, emaciated, bare-chested, ribs like skin stretched over bone, his right arm severed, leaving only one hand.

On that hand, countless eyes were densely packed, their pupils turning ceaselessly.

He lifted his head slightly, revealing a face—smooth as white flour, with only a mouth remaining, no eyes, nose, or ears!

The face was grotesque, sending chills down the spine.

Yet more astonishing still, when the middle-aged man slowly rose, his back was revealed.

On his back was another face—a senior's face! This face appeared more real, as if the earlier voice had originated from here.

He walked to the desk beneath the moonlight and touched the broken sword.

On the desk lay paper, inscribed with a few characters—crookedly written, yet still legible: "Peng flies north, phoenix faces the sun, again I carry books and sword on a boundless road."

"In the end, books and sword drift, lost."

Moonlight flowed like water, quietly bathing the fifth-floor chamber.

Behind the curtain stood another bed.

On it lay a tall, elderly man in a Confucian robe, also missing one arm—yet his arm looked as if devoured by some beast.

The tooth marks were dense and countless.

The elder's face was ruddy, his expression gentle, yet utterly lifeless.

It was a corpse!

Had any Academy member been present, they would have recognized the elder at once.

For his face matched exactly the portrait of the Master hung in the Academy's main hall.

Suddenly, violent coughing erupted from the middle-aged man's back, his body trembling violently.

He staggered to the side of the tall elder's white bed.

With trembling hands, he lifted one arm, his single mouth slowly drawing near.

On the back-face, pain and satisfaction twisted together in struggle.

A horrifying chewing sound echoed within the fifth-floor chamber.

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Gathering of Blossoms.

Already bustling with noise; the banks of the canal were packed with Bianjing commoners, all craning their necks in anticipation.

Waiting for the Flower Queen to take the stage.

To push the Gathering of Blossoms to its peak.

The four-sided stage, directly opposite the "Inviting Immortal Tower."

The hour was already late.

The Nine Surnames had begun arriving one by one.

The tower stood four stories high, deliberately not exceeding the height of the Academy.

Xie Hong assisted Xie Lao Taijun as they slowly approached the Inviting Immortal Tower, flanked by the main lady of the Second Courtyard, Lady Zhao.

Behind them came Lady Yuan and Lady Zhuge of the First Courtyard.

Xie Lao Taijun wore a joyful expression.

Lady Zhao clung closely to Xie Hong, her face radiant with delight.

Lady Yuan, watching Lady Zhao of the Second Courtyard walk ahead, frowned.

Lady Zhuge's expression remained neutral.

Yet strangely!

Behind them stood two others: a woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat and veil, who had entered the Xie Fu with Xie Hong;

and a man wrapped in a black robe, his head covered by a hood.

Not one of the Xie family's descendants.

Although Xie Laotaijun and others harbored doubts.

But this was Xie Hong's arrangement, so no one objected.

The Xie family arrived at the Qunfang Banquet.

Along the way, many who saw Xie Hong bowed low; Xie Hong merely nodded slightly.

Seeing this, Lady Zhao felt honored.

They reached the entrance of Yaoxian Tower.

The maid downstairs hurried out to greet them.

Xie Hong stopped and spoke to Xie Laotaijun.

"Mother, go straight up to the second floor."

"I have some matters to attend to—meet an old friend, then join you shortly."

Yaoxian Tower has four floors, each with its own specific symbolism of status and prestige.

The fourth floor is the most prestigious, reserved specifically for Su Xiang and the Third Master of the Academy today.

The third floor is designated for senior officials of the Academy and the imperial court, as well as the heads of the Nine Surnames.

The second floor is exclusively for the families of the Nine Surnames and the imperial household, as well as the imperial consorts.

The first floor is where ordinary court officials and their families gather.

To ascend to higher floors requires a more prestigious invitation.

Strict hierarchy!

Xie Hong turned to Lady Zhao and said: "Lady, please help support Mother."

Lady Zhao's face lit up with delight: "Master, rest assured."

Xie Laotaijun smiled: "Hong, you've been away from court for years—it's changed entirely. Your old friends have all risen to high positions. Several of your disciples are now first-rank officials who come to our home every year with gifts. Stay in touch; don't let your students feel neglected."

"It's good to see them. If one day you wish to leave Qingliang Temple and return to office, someone will recommend you."

Xie Laotaijun stroked her youngest son's hand: "You know your brother's nature—he dislikes dealing with those Confucian scholars at court, and we have no one inside to speak for us."

At this, Xie Laotaijun sighed: "It's the end of the year, yet the court's orders still haven't come. Ling is still holding the border, unable to return home."

"Go, go—don't worry. I'll go up to the second floor myself. It's no trouble."

Xie Ling had still not received the court's order to withdraw, and remained holding the border.

Xie Laotaijun often worried about Xie Ling.

How could parents not think of their children and grandchildren?

Xie Hong spoke slowly: "I'll keep an eye on your elder son's affairs."

Only then did Yuan Fu ren's expression brighten, and she hurried to say:

"Then this matter is entrusted to Hong."

If Xie Hong was willing to help, the matter would become much easier.

Xie Hong nodded and remained at the entrance of Yaoxian Tower.

The woman wearing a conical hat and white veil, and the man in black robe, also stopped with Xie Hong.

Lu Hua watched Xie Laotaijun's party enter "Yaoxian Tower," gazing at the sign above.

Lu Hua smiled: "Yaoxian Tower—inviting immortals. It really does feel fitting!"

Xie Hong led the two toward Qimochun Fang nearby, where a private room on the third floor had been prepared.

The three entered the private room!

Xie Hong pushed open the window.

The Qunfang Banquet was built atop the Zhishui Bridge, visible to the people on both banks.

The Qunfang Banquet was built across the Zhishui Bridge, and people on both banks had gathered to watch, the scene bustling with excitement.

The moonlight spilled like water over the shimmering Zhishui; men on the flower boats beat drums to cheer, and courtesans sang melodious tunes, pushing the festive atmosphere to its peak.

Cheers echoed continuously from both banks.

The most eye-catching sight was Yaoxian Tower, brightly lit, its interior filled with shadowy figures.

Xie Hong's gaze lingered on Yaoxian Tower for a moment, then he said calmly:

"Su Jing has entered Yaoxian Tower. But the Academy's people have not yet arrived."

Lu Hua's expression grew more serious. She whispered: "In Bianjing of the Great Qi, assassinating an Academy Master sounds dangerously reckless."

At this moment, the man in black robe had already lifted his hood, revealing a face covered in scales, two large bulges on either side of his forehead, no eyebrows, and golden vertical pupils radiating a ferocious aura, as if a demon had descended.

He slowly forced out words from his throat: "Kill… kill him. He… deserves to die!"

His voice was awkward, like two grinding stones pushing against each other, revealing his inner fury.

Xie Hong turned around: "Today, the Tu Mo Division and Shen Yin are both present—security is tight."

"But the greatest concern is the Academy's people. We'll see how Su Jing manages to distract them."

"Before the Qunfang Banquet ends, I rely on you, Lu Tian Shi, and Long Yi, to wait again."

Lu Hua said nothing—it was already agreed upon.

The man in black robe nodded.

Xie Hong did not linger, gave a few final instructions, and descended the stairs.

Only Lu Hua and the man in black robe remained in the private room.

Lu Hua yawned, dragged a chair to the window, and gazed at the scene on Zhishui.

The man named Long Yi seemed lost in thought, his eyes unreadable.

Long Yi's voice was hoarse: "I… go… return."

Lu Hua waved dismissively.

"Go. A lone man and a woman alone in a room—even though I'm a Daoist, you're not even human."

"Just don't get caught and drag me down. Save the Daoist, let the poor monk die."

Long Yi said: "Go… water."

The man in black robe descended the stairs, bowed his head, and slipped through the crowd to the Zhishui bank, then plunged beneath the water.

He silently tracked a certain aura—he had faintly sensed something unnatural about the Xie family's young boy since his time at the Xie Fu.

The lord of the Ze Lake demon had a peculiar feeling.

If he consumed that boy.

He could transform into a dragon and ascend.

For days, Long Yi had quietly observed the boy, but with Xie Hong always beside him, he had found no opportunity.

Now the chance had come!

As Long Yi swam beneath the water, the thought made his whole body burn with heat; he couldn't help swallowing saliva.

On a flower boat, a woman stared at the water, saw ripples surging, and cried out in horror: "Something's in the water?"

"A giant snake?"

(End of Chapter)