Chapter 54: 53 Fermentation

53 Fermentation

What did I overlook?

Tang Zhao lowered his head in deep thought, combing through the night's events from beginning to end.

The assassination attempt on the training ground—was it not a bit... childish?

This trick of two people fighting to attract attention, drawing three people to watch, and then launching a surprise pincer attack is actually an ancient ruse; it is a type of "Immortal Jump," a common trap in the pugilistic world.

Tang Zhao was not familiar with the martial arts world, but he was no stranger to the pugilistic world. The Sui Family Troupe made their living in the pugilistic world—the kind of world where fish and dragons mix and scams run rampant. Although Sui Uncle was only a theorist and might not react the fastest when things happened to him, he could figure things out immediately once he was suspicious.

But even if he hadn't figured it out, could this assassination have succeeded?

In truth, there was a chance, but not a high one.

The most important aspects of this "Immortal Jump" are surprise and using numbers to bully the few. While two people are indeed more than one, there were so many other people on the plaza. If the first strike missed, Tang Zhao could run into the crowd, and since it was night with poor visibility, it would not be difficult to escape.

Furthermore, the preparation was inadequate. While poison needles are useful, wouldn't a dagger be more convenient for a sneak attack? The two of them didn't even have a single blade; wasn't that too sloppy?

Moreover, after Tang Zhao escaped and grabbed a sword, he only made a few moves, and the two didn't swarm him. They just gave up, said a few bland, perfunctory words, and ran off. Wasn't that even more childish?

If one were to say they were just "beating the grass to scare the snakes" and didn't expect results, well, the poison needles were already out—wouldn't that be alerting the enemy?

Beating the grass... to scare the snake?

That was it. He had figured it out. The most bizarre part was that shout at the very beginning.

The shouting and yelling—rather than a challenge, it was more like... attracting attention?

He had been on his way back to his room at the time.

In that case...

Tang Zhao pulled back his hand from opening the door. He used a strip of cloth torn from his lapel to wrap his palm, avoiding contact with the inner and outer door frames. He carefully pushed the door open, ventilated it first, then took out the mugwort he carried with him, lit it on the spot, blew out the flame, and tossed it inside.

The room was instantly filled with thick smoke and a pungent odor. The surrounding Grape Courtyard Disciples all frowned upon smelling it. Some of the smarter ones saw his actions and nodded secretly.

After the mugwort had fumigated for a while and the smoke had dissipated somewhat, he entered the room, first lit the candles, and then pinched some realgar to scatter everywhere.

After waiting a while, the smell of realgar and mugwort made the room unbearable to stand in, yet no large spider appeared. Only then did Tang Zhao take his Art Tool, holding a candle holder in one hand for light and using the Art Tool in the other to turn over the furniture bit by bit, mainly the head of the bed and the bedding.

There was nothing special inside the quilt. He looked at the pillow and saw what seemed to be wisps of white.

Tang Zhao's eyesight was truly not very good, and the candlelight was dim, so he couldn't see what it was. He had to put on his Glasses to look closely.

Under the pillow, fine spider silk was congealing.

It was indeed poisoning.

Compared to a brazen, public execution of Tang Zhao, it was better to let him die silently from poison.

Clearly, someone had just snuck into Tang Zhao's room to plant the poison. Tang Zhao had returned at the wrong time, and the person inside hadn't had time to retreat. Their two accomplices had improvised, shouting and yelling to draw attention and cover their accomplice's escape.

Tang Zhao figured this out and secretly found it amusing: You want to do this in my room without anyone knowing? You are daydreaming.

As long as it is poisoning, there will be traces.

It is not that there are no colorless, odorless, and traceless poisons in this world, but most are precious items. Furthermore, to be effective quickly, most require oral ingestion or contact with a wound.

To be lethal upon touch, colorless, odorless, long-lasting, or even intangible—that is basically the level of pugilistic legend. How could a mere small disciple of the Black Spider Villa be qualified to use such things? Even the person who gave them the poison needles didn't have it. Otherwise, there would be no living people left in the pugilistic world.

Tang Zhao carefully scraped the poison off and placed it in a small bottle to preserve as evidence. Evidence isn't needed for conflicts between small disciples—having an excuse to act is enough—but what if a big shot wants to see it?

Then he rolled up the entire bedding and set it aside.

The bed could not be slept in, but fortunately, he had a place to sleep.

Now he needed to know: who exactly had moved to poison his room?

He couldn't see the King of Hell, but he had to catch the little ghosts one by one, right?

Fortunately, this was not difficult. No need to guess, he just needed to see. Because he still had a pair of eyes.

But before that, he still had to prepare some gifts. He had long had an idea that was especially suitable for giving to that old man.

"Sizzle—"

The oil in the pot rolled, and the white dough expanded rapidly, turning into a golden, fragrant, large fried dough stick.

Tang Zhao seized the moment, used a pair of chopsticks to fish out the fried dough stick, and served it to the green-eyed Ping Jiangqiu.

Ping Jiangqiu had long been itching to grab it with his hands, but he barely waited, using his ruthless iron beak to swallow it in large bites.

Crunch, crunch—

The crispy fried dough stick was bitten through, emitting a crisp sound. The fragrance of flour and oil overflowed, whetting the appetite.

Tang Zhao was not hungry; the oil smoke was too heavy, and he had already breathed his fill.

"Delicious, delicious. You really have a way. No matter how I fry them, I can't get this flavor."

Tang Zhao poked at the fried dough stick and said, "Actually, my frying is just average. It's just that you have no living things here, so naturally, there are no bacteria. The yeast is all dead, so there's no way to ferment it. Of course, you can't fry fluffy, delicious dough sticks. So, you just need to ferment them outside before bringing them in to fry."

He had thought of this method after seeing the yogurt at Guan Lei's place. The reason he didn't take the yogurt was because yogurt is easy to store, and the old man might have some here. But he didn't believe Ping Jiangqiu would store fermented raw dough.

Ping Jiangqiu gave a thumbs up in the middle of his busy eating: "Wonderful, wonderful. To know the 'what' and also the 'why'—you are worthy of being a seed of a scholar."

Tang Zhao sighed. He wasn't really a scholar anymore, and he didn't have a single book, nor any way to get one for the time being. He had only resorted to this clever method of frying dough sticks to see if he could borrow books to read.

It seemed the effect was quite good.

Ping Jiangqiu ate five or six fried dough sticks in a row before saying, "A-Tang, did you go to all this trouble to fry dough sticks just to find out who invaded your room?"

Tang Zhao said, "Could I go to such great lengths for a small problem? I was already thinking about what gift to bring you because you've taken care of me these past few days; I just happened to think of it."

This was the truth. To say Tang Zhao didn't have the intention of giving a gift to befriend this great Sword Hero would be impossible, but to say he prepared the gift specifically for some matter or benefit would be too utilitarian. At his age, Tang Zhao couldn't do such a thing.

It was more of a simple expression of gratitude. Although Tang Zhao was ignorant, he guessed that Canning Time was not easy to come by; even Ping Jiangqiu couldn't have much in storage. Simply put, this is storage, not creation. Wool comes from the sheep; these times must have existed originally, saved from elsewhere and stored inside, so they could be released later. It could never be extended indefinitely.

Ping Jiangqiu had continuously released time canning, which was definitely generous. Tang Zhao was grateful. He wanted to thank this old man, but he had nothing to repay him with; the only thing he could do was find a way to make Ping Jiangqiu happy.

Ping Jiangqiu gnawed on a fried dough stick and said, "I saw the person, and I could draw a picture for you, but why go to that trouble? Just kill everyone who is suspicious."

Tang Zhao didn't grip his chopsticks well, and a fried dough stick fell back into the pot. He hurriedly fished it out again; it was a bit burnt: "How many people would that be? Old man, haven't you always believed in perfection above all else, ensuring nothing goes wrong?"

Ping Jiangqiu said sternly, "Exactly because of ensuring nothing goes wrong, when encountering great danger, one must hide and prioritize self-preservation. When encountering small danger, one must nip it in the bud, uproot the source of danger as early as possible, and crush the bones to dust, lest it develop into a great danger."

Tang Zhao couldn't help but say, "You can eliminate danger like this? Isn't this making trouble for yourself? Turning a small matter into a big one? You'd better just tell me who it is; I plan to kill one to warn a hundred."

Ping Jiangqiu snorted: "What do you know? I've lived this long without dying precisely because I am cautious enough. Young people always harbor fantasies; they'll understand once they've suffered a loss." With a casual flick of his finger, paper and a brush fell from the sky; he grabbed the brush in mid-air and began writing and drawing on the ground.

Tang Zhao was not surprised; inside the Time Jar, Ping Jiangqiu was the master, and he could do whatever he pleased.

While manipulating the brush, Ping Jiangqiu said: "It doesn't matter how you deal with these petty trifles; killing them all is the easiest way. Someone will clean up after you anyway, so there's no fear of things getting out of hand. Prescribing the right medicine for the illness works too; precise operations can train your skills in dealing with people and the world, which will be useful in the future. But the most important thing is to be alive after ten days. It was hard enough to find a boy who is somewhat satisfactory; if he were gone in ten days or half a month, I, an old man, would also be sad."

Tang Zhao sighed with emotion: "That's true. Time passes so quickly; in the blink of an eye, two-thirds have already passed."

Ping Jiangqiu asked: "How are your preparations? Do you have confidence? Are you nervous inside?"

Tang Zhao said softly: "How should I put it? I have tried my best to do it, and I have encouraged myself over and over, telling myself to be brave. But as the time draws near, I still feel afraid. At night, lying in bed, I let my imagination run wild; I feel sad and sorrowful for no reason, and even depressed or suicidal. Sometimes I have nightmares and wake up in a cold sweat. I feel better in the morning; practicing martial arts is exhausting, and I don't have the energy to think so much."

"As for preparations, I haven't slacked off this month. It seems I've learned a lot, but I always feel it's not enough. When I think about it, I haven't learned much, and there are loopholes everywhere. Confidence comes and goes, but most of the time, it's gone. The more I see, the more I know how vast the world is; I feel like there are three thousand weak waters outside, and not even a single drop has fallen into my own pocket."

"Anyway, as the deadline gets closer, I've already thought about running away a little. Things I didn't regret at all before, I now regret a bit. I can't calm down now; once I calm down, I feel miserable, so I have to practice harder to keep myself from thinking too much. Maybe I am still a fragile person? Perhaps I might even collapse on the battlefield?"

These were his heartfelt words, a confession pulled from the deepest part of his inner self.

He had never said these things to anyone. He couldn't talk to the people at Black Spider Villa, it wasn't easy to talk to Guan Lei, he couldn't even see Xing Ji, and as for Wei Zhangle, Tang Zhao felt he had a responsibility not to bring negative emotions to him.

He was also a person who wanted to be strong; he wouldn't let others notice his sadness or discomfort. Even if he spoke of it, he would only say three parts out of ten. It was rare for him to open up like this.

Perhaps it was because the Time Jar was a paradise, as if it were not in the mortal world, which made him extremely relaxed; or perhaps it was Ping Jiangqiu's crying and laughing without any burdens, his childlike behavior, that infected him, allowing him to open his heart.

Hearing this, Ping Jiangqiu suddenly shouted: "Isn't this just self-torture?"

He jumped up, his whole body full of Qi, like a bloated balloon.

Immediately after, for some reason, this balloon leaked a little, and he slumped a bit more.

After a while, he tugged at his beard and sighed, saying: "Ah Tang, let me tell you a few things. First, it is normal to feel anxious, sad, unable to eat or sleep when encountering things, and it is not strange to have wild thoughts at night. Not to mention matters of life and death, even for an exam in the academy, how many people can't sleep? Don't think you are weak or useless, and don't think everyone else is calm and composed. As long as one is human, who isn't nervous? It's just that some people pretend well. Think about it yourself; if you hadn't said it yourself, didn't you also pretend well in front of others? They are not even as good as you. At least I can say, with my age and my many years of experience, I confirm that you are a strong, sincere, and brave good child."

Tang Zhao laughed sheepishly: "Not really."

Although he said that, he let out a breath without realizing it, feeling comforted.

Ping Jiangqiu continued: "Secondly, don't keep things bottled up; keeping things bottled up will make you fat."

Tang Zhao said "Huh?" and Ping Jiangqiu patted his belly, saying: "Look at me. I used to be stubborn and wouldn't say anything, as if that would make me look dignified, and I bottled myself up into a big fat man. Later, I figured it out: cry when you need to, laugh when you need to, and your mood will be much better."

Tang Zhao thought: But you haven't lost any weight, have you?

Ping Jiangqiu said: "If you are thin-skinned and feel like you are going to collapse, come to me. Cry if you want to cry, roll around if you want to roll around. I won't laugh at you; I'll even keep you company. Come, cry."

"..."

Tang Zhao said awkwardly: "I can't cry."

Ping Jiangqiu said: "There's no rush for this moment. Anyway, you can do whatever you want here. Furthermore... you know this principle even if I don't say it: it is better to rely on yourself than on others. If you are anxious, learn more, practice more, and improve more. If you jump high enough, what hurdle can't you leap over?"

Tang Zhao nodded; he certainly knew this principle and had never slacked off, but he always felt it was not enough.

Ping Jiangqiu shouted: "Go, perform that palm technique of yours, full of flaws and falling apart, one more time."