Chapter 634: I Choose to Be Myself—Please Watch Young Master Xie Ascend to the Fourth Floor!

The crippled old man's face was as dark as water, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"Xie Guan, don't think that Lotus Pool's old monk can still protect you."

"You, a bastard bearing a criminal's name, truly dare not fear I'll tear you apart right here?"

The old man's words brimmed with threat, as if he would strike at any moment.

The eunuch supervisor rushed forward to intervene, anxious: "Old Master Chang, don't act rashly!"

"Third Master and Su Xiang are waiting for word. Xie Guan has already composed his poem—let's hurry back to report."

The old eunuch tried to ease the tension, turning to Xie Guan with urgency: "Young Master Guan, isn't that so?"

Yu Ke smiled casually beside him, gesturing to the wine jug, seemingly indifferent to the tension.

"Is a bastard's life unimportant?"

Yu Ke spoke softly, his voice calm yet edged with coldness.

"All I know is, my life as Xie Guan weighs heavier than heaven."

"A gentleman values his person above all—my life is priceless."

Hearing this, the crippled old man's face darkened further; his eighth-rank martial cultivation erupted instantly, a crushing pressure like a dense downpour pressing down, suffocating all who felt it.

The old eunuch's heart tightened.

"Old Master Chang, stop!"

Though he himself was a top-three-rank martial cultivator, he was no match for this elder who had long served beside Su Xiang.

The old eunuch was frantic and dared not move to intervene.

But how could this boy withstand the pressure of a martial expert?

Please, let nothing go wrong—don't provoke Su Xiang or Third Master's displeasure.

To everyone's astonishment!

Behind the desk, the slender boy remained utterly unmoved beneath the crippled old man's pressure, like an unshakable mountain.

Xie Guan—could he possess both martial and primordial spirit cultivation?

Even so, at his age, how could he resist the pressure of a ninth-rank Xuan Dan realm martial expert?

Within Yu Ke's mind-sea, the great cauldron rang silently, resonating with heaven and earth, radiating ten thousand rays of aurora!

A faint, ineffably mysterious energy flowed through his entire body.

"I use a divine artifact to anchor my body!"

Following memory, he had just learned a single posture from the "Golden Chan Buddha Hand Sutra"—"Buddha Hand Stirring the Waves."

A golden, luminous glass Buddha hand appeared around him, like a protective Vajra guardian, firmly enclosing his body and repelling the external pressure.

Yu Ke was not concerned about exposing his cultivation or this Buddha hand.

After all, the crippled old man had likely already reported his secrets to Su Xiang.

Su Jing already knew of his encounter with the Demon Master and Lotus Pool Master in the carriage pavilion.

The old eunuch's eyes flickered with surprise; he murmured softly: "Buddhist martial arts!"

He was deeply puzzled—wasn't Xie Guan secretly reported to have close ties with the Three Truths Sect?

How had he become entangled with the Buddhist sect?

The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly delicate.

Seeing he could not suppress Xie Guan, the crippled old man's aura surged again, his blood qi exploding like a collapsing snow mountain, a vast, overwhelming presence suddenly manifesting!

His true eighth-rank cultivation was now fully revealed.

He let out a cold snort; his pressure surged like a tide, the table groaning under the strain, as if about to shatter.

The old eunuch's face paled—dammit, Old Master Chang is serious now!

The crippled old man clearly intended to overpower him by force.

Yet the old man tightly controlled his power—otherwise, this quiet room would have long been crushed to rubble.

Yet!

To everyone's shock, Yu Ke remained calm, as if a gentle breeze brushed his face, not a ripple stirred.

Xie Guan showed no reaction at all, as if the pressure meant nothing to him.

The crippled old man inwardly trembled—he could not believe that his eighth-rank martial cultivation could not subdue this boy!

Yu Ke merely smiled faintly, calmly pushing the cup on the table toward the crippled old man.

The old man's face darkened with fury, but his gaze finally settled on the boy's serene profile, and he forcibly suppressed his rage.

"Fine!"

The crippled old man growled, "Xie Guan, I'll pour you wine."

The old man's aura receded; the surging blood qi of the snow mountain vanished.

Yu Ke's mind shifted—the golden glass Buddha hand disappeared.

The quiet room returned to stillness.

The old eunuch exhaled slowly in relief.

The crippled old man lifted the jug, gave it a slight shake, and poured a stream of steaming, clear wine into the cup until full.

The old eunuch watched, struck by awe—Old Master Chang had served Su Xiang since childhood; in Bianjing, even the nine great clans had never made him bow his head, let alone pour wine himself.

Today, he broke that rule for this boy!

The quiet room fell silent.

The boy drank the warm wine in one gulp, loudly declaring: "Fine wine!"

Then he smiled: "No need to trouble you twice—please refill my cup."

The crippled old man's hand trembled slightly, veins bulging on his forehead, yet he obeyed, pouring again—the wine's fragrance filled the air.

Beside them, the old eunuch wiped sweat from his brow, his expression tense.

Yu Ke slowly released his grip, allowing the crippled old man to retrieve the paper bearing the newly composed poem.

The old man did not linger—he turned and left at once, leaving only these words:

"Xie Guan, take care. If this poem pleases Su Xiang, it will be a great fortune."

"Otherwise, I'll show you what true fine wine tastes like."

Especially the final two words—"fine wine"—spoken with icy chill, sending chills down the spine.

Yu Ke merely nodded calmly, unbothered.

The man who once overshadowed an age, whose poetic utterance alone could summon half the tribute of ten thousand nations.

Later generations revered his name, calling him the Exiled Immortal.

His poems would surely endure through eternity, illuminating history.

The old eunuch bowed apologetically to Xie Guan before departing as well.

Yu Ke remained seated calmly in the quiet room, unhurried.

Participating directly in this—such an experience was rare indeed.

The sensation of being truly present carried a flavor beyond words.

He felt as if he had become "Xie Guan," yet remained fully aware he was not the real one.

This feeling—walking within a dream, yet suddenly "awakening from it"—was profoundly uncanny.

Thinking through Xie Guan's perspective, Yu Ke's spiritual sense became clearer than ever; previously obscure, inscrutable blocks in his primordial spirit cultivation now opened like a floodgate.

The bottlenecks in his martial progress also shattered open. This "observing the Dao" experience was something he had never known in his past life as Lu Chen during "Heaven-Man Reincarnation."

"Service upgraded again!"

"Big Cauldron, did you secretly evolve again?"

The cauldron remained silent, vibrating only.

Yet!

After every direct participation, Yu Ke's memories of martial cultivation—and most of his life experiences—vanished entirely.

All gains could only be retrieved after the "Heaven-Man Reincarnation" simulation ended.

It was like a "perceptual barrier," a firewall within the program.

Yu Ke understood: without this safeguard, the mere decades of memory from his first life as Lu Chen would overwhelm him, blurring the line between "Yu Ke" and Lu Chen.

Yu Ke warned himself: no matter how many times he underwent Heaven-Man Reincarnation,

Yu Ke would remain Yu Ke.

I have wrestled with myself long enough—I choose to be myself.

"It's been so long—how many courtesans have taken the stage? The Gathering of Blossoms is nearly over."

"Why is there still no sign from above?"

Xie Yuan paced nervously on the second floor.

Following Lady Xu's advice, they had not sought help from elders upstairs—only Xie Qiyue had been sent to scout.

If news came from the third floor about Xie Guan, they were to relay it immediately.

Zhang Yunzhi's face was calm, but her hands tightly clasped on her lap betrayed her inner anxiety.

Xue Hong had wanted to follow up to the third floor, but Xie Qiyue had stopped him.

Li Shuwan paused, then spoke: "The Gathering of Blossoms is nearly over—Young Master Guan must have finished his poem."

Xu Xixi's gaze also turned to the third floor, though her thoughts lay elsewhere.

Today, the Demon Master and Master Lianchi—two renowned Grand Masters whose names shake the heavens—have converged in Bianjing; what is their true intent?

She felt a faint unease in her heart.

The academy is no longer the academy of old; the four masters have long since gone their separate ways.

The Demon Master represents the Golden Clan of the steppe, the Eternal Heaven of the north!

Master Lianchi is the World Walker of the Eastern Victory Sect of the Southern Buddhist Kingdom.

Upon arriving in Bianjing, Xu Xiyue guessed they must be here for the academy.

Now, the Third Master of the academy is at the Gathering of Beauties; only the gravely ill Second Master remains behind.

Could their target be the assassination of the Second Master?

Xu Xiyue thought of this, yet shook her head, dismissing the notion.

The academy is the pivot of Bianjing's Shocking Divine Array—who dares to force entry?

Then, what is the true intent of these two Grand Masters in coming to Bianjing?

Xu Xiyue's heart was filled with doubt; she sensed a hidden current surging beneath the surface.

Beside her, Zhao Yang smirked and spoke calmly, "What are you waiting for? The news coming soon will surely be that Xie Guan is dead."

Upon hearing this, Xie Yuan frowned tightly and retorted impatiently:

"Zhao Yang, if you're unwilling to wait, you may leave right now."

"Just seeing you brings bad luck—it's truly vexing."

Zhao Yang, seeing Xie Yuan and the others grow anxious, felt a surge of pleasure.

He toyed with his warming brazier, his smile deepening as he said slowly:

"I, for one, intend to stay and watch with my own eyes how Xie Guan is thrown into prison—and how he is executed."

Xie Renfeng's face also showed a rare glimmer of delight, as if eagerly anticipating what was to come.

Zhang Yunzhi's face paled slightly at these words.

Li Shuwan, seeing this, gently patted her back and soothed, "Young Master Guan is blessed by heaven, Sister Yunzhi, you need not worry so much."

Zhang Yunzhi softly shook her head and sighed, thinking of her father, her heart filled with mixed emotions.

Her father was an upright, incorruptible official; he refused to sink to corruption and scorned factional scheming, earning great praise among the people as a true servant of the common folk.

Yet, the world is fickle!

Simply because of a land dispute between commoners and the sons of the Nine Surnames, her father—though himself one of the Nine Surnames—took the side of the commoners.

Those few acres of poor land might be mere wine money to the Nine Surnames, but they were the very foundation of the commoners' survival.

Moved by pity, he saw a mother and child kneeling at the government office gate and resolved to arrest the son of the Nine Surnames and deliver judgment in court.

But fate is unpredictable—this small matter spiraled into a city-wide uproar.

Her father was thus demoted and exiled to Dezehu.

Her mother suffered alongside him, growing ever more frail; the family had not reunited in years.

The noble sons of the Nine Surnames, who trampled lives underfoot, still roamed free.

This world always makes things hard for good people.

Heaven has never been merciful—it merely watches coldly as mortals suffer.

At the Gathering of Beauties, the Nine Surnames squandered fortunes in extravagance.

Outside the capital, refugees surged like a tide, homeless and destitute.

Young Master Guan has suffered all his life—his talent, vast and unfulfilled, should never have ended like this!

Just then!

Xie Yuan noticed a slender figure slowly descending the staircase.

"Xie Qiyue, you're finally here! What's happening upstairs?" Xie Yuan asked urgently.

Xie Qiyue hurried over, snatched up a cup of tea, and drained it in one gulp.

Zhang Yunzhi stepped forward quickly and whispered, "Qiyue, drink slowly—you'll choke."

Xue Hong rushed to bring her a chair, his face full of concern.

But Xie Yuan could not contain his impatience and pressed again: "Miss Qiyue, what's the situation upstairs? How is Young Master Guan?"

Xie Qiyue caught her breath, then kicked Xie Yuan lightly and scolded, "Now you remember to call me sister?"

She had intended to tease him further, but seeing Zhang Yunzhi's anxious gaze, she cleared her throat, dropped her jest, and spoke seriously:

"Fourth cousin, rest easy."

"Xie Guan has already submitted his poem to the fourth floor."

"I was just downstairs with Father; upstairs are all the senior members of the Xie family—I kept calling 'Uncle' and 'Auntie' until I was utterly hoarse."

"I saw the Imperial Seal Eunuch and the elder of the Su family ascend to the fourth floor, so I came down quickly."

Hearing this, Zhang Yunzhi's heart tightened—Young Master Guan had already submitted his poem.

Xie Renfeng had also been watching closely; upon hearing this, his gaze turned to the fourth floor, his mind turning over possibilities.

Xie Guan's poem is done—will it catch Su Xiang's eye?

All fell into silence.

Xie Qiyue then mentioned something else: that while Xie Guan was composing his poem on the third floor, he had made the Su family's Elder grind ink, warm wine, and pour it for him.

Li Shuwan's eyes widened in astonishment. This Elder was a constant companion of Su Xiang, held in the highest esteem—even the Nine Surnames addressed him respectfully as "Elder."

Yet Xie Guan dared to command him to perform such menial tasks—even the heads of the Nine Surnames would never dare such a thing.

Xie Guan's conduct was truly reckless.

Xie Yuan, upon hearing this, laughed aloud: "Young Brother Guan has always refused to be taken advantage of."

Xu Xiyue, too, returned from her thoughts and murmured, "You need not worry—Young Master Guan, having climbed this Invitation-to-Immortals Tower, surely knows what he's doing."

Zhang Yunzhi's anxiety eased slightly.

Li Shuwan grew even more eager to see the poem Xie Guan had written; she had copied down all three of his setting poems today.

Xie Renfeng's face grew cold again.

If Xie Guan truly wins Su Xiang's favor and escapes death,

Tomorrow he will single-handedly overshadow the Gathering of Beauties' Flower Queen.

That was the very thing he could never bear to see.

Zhao Yang sneered from the side: "Even if he writes something, what masterpiece could he produce in such a short time?"

"If it were me, I'd rather write nothing at all—better to avoid public ridicule and leave behind a laughingstock after death."

"He's finally built up some reputation—should Su Xiang judge his poem as abysmal, not only will his life be forfeit, but his honor will be shattered."

His words dripped with bitterness and disdain.

Yet they were all true.

Li Shuwan and the others offered no rebuttal.

How many masterpieces exist in this world? Especially poems composed on the spot?

Poetry and verse demand constant refinement; composing on the spot requires both talent and inner calm—great lines are rare and often require repeated polishing.

Now, forced into it, with a blade hanging above his head,

A hastily written poem is unlikely to earn applause.

Xie Renfeng felt a slight relief.

Zhao Yang's face lit with triumph; he opened his mouth to sneer, "See now… just wait and see…"

Just then!

From the fourth floor, a loud voice drowned out all noise, clearly reaching every ear:

"By the decree of Su Xiang and the Third Master—"

"Summon Young Master Guan directly to the fourth floor!"

Xie Renfeng's face turned instantly ghastly.

Zhao Yang's unfinished words choked in his throat, never to be spoken.

(End of Chapter)