Chapter 102: A Journey Far Away

Ink-brush written realm.

Lu Fang excitedly approached the ink-colored flower; recently, due to the Da Zhou Literary Gazette being gradually introduced across the nineteen provinces, the number of people who gained book-scent has surged.

Moreover, the novel “The Smiling, Proud Wanderer” enabled countless individuals to comprehend the cultivation arts within its pages.

Naturally, Lu Fang also acquired these arts; he tested their power and found them stronger than he had imagined.

What is the Evil-Exterminating Sword Art?

When the realm spirit first informed him, Lu Fang was startled—but after checking his body, he found no missing parts; evidently, no castration was required here.

Besides the Evil-Exterminating Sword Art, others had also unlocked the "Purple Mist Divine Art" and the "Furious Wind Swift Blade."

These three arts: one is a devious sword technique, one a powerful internal cultivation method, and one a blade style.

A martial cultivator who comprehends any one of them can benefit for life.

But if a Confucian cultivator attains them, they become true dual practitioners of body and method.

Beyond these, what delighted Lu Fang was that his book-scent had also surged—within merely half a month, he had gathered thirty-two strands.

Ink-colored flower · Clone

This flower, nourished by book-scent, allows Lu Fang, master of the Ink-Brush Written Realm, to apply his transcendent ability—Concealing Heaven and Crossing Sea—to the book spirit.

Lu Fang considered it and decided to use ten strands of book-scent to nourish this flower, so that the book spirit Yan Chixia could remain at his residence while he himself could alter his appearance and travel farther afield.

Ten strands of book-scent flowed into the Ink-colored flower · Clone; the bud bloomed.

As the flower sank into his brow, his transcendent ability—Concealing Heaven and Crossing Sea—could now be applied to the book spirit Yan Chixia.

“Thank you, Young Master.”

The book spirit Yan Chixia also sensed it and bowed in gratitude.

Lu Fang smiled and asked: “Now that you’re like this, if I leave you far behind, can you write ‘The Smiling, Proud Wanderer’ for me?”

The book spirit Yan Chixia shook his head and replied: “Young Master, not yet. But if you bloom the Ink-colored flower · Solidify, then you can.”

Lu Fang frowned; he had thought nourishing just one ink-colored flower would suffice, never expecting to expend ten strands of book-scent—how could he not feel pained?

If he didn’t nourish the Ink-colored flower · Solidify, the book spirit couldn’t help write ‘The Smiling, Proud Wanderer’—that was even more infuriating.

After much thought, Lu Fang gritted his teeth and again nourished the Ink-colored flower · Solidify; as a glowing, ink-colored flower sank into the body of the book spirit Yan Chixia.

The somewhat ethereal book spirit became solid and tangible.

“Thank you, Young Master, for granting me a body—I can now ease your burdens and share your worries,” the book spirit Yan Chixia bowed repeatedly.

…

In the study.

Two identical Lu Fangs stood face to face.

“I’m going on a long journey. I’ve told everyone I’ll be in seclusion for a long time. Every seven days, place the written chapters of ‘The Smiling, Proud Wanderer’ outside the door. For the rest of the time, you may cultivate as you wish.”

Lu Fang instructed.

The book spirit Yan Chixia bowed and said: “Young Master, rest assured—I’ll finish writing ‘The Smiling, Proud Wanderer’ daily, and I’ll read the classics of the Three Teachings; perhaps I’ll gain insight into other arts.”

Lu Fang nodded: “If any unexpected problems arise, return directly to the Ink-Brush Written Realm—I’ve left a puppet teleportation substitute here; you can come back anytime.”

The book spirit Yan Chixia nodded in agreement.

Lu Fang thought over everything else and found nothing more to say; under cover of night, he left the capital city and, in a remote wilderness, transformed himself into a shabby scholar.

He no longer hurried along with righteous qi; instead, he walked slowly, paused often, admired the scenery, camped under the stars, ate wild game, and let the mountain winds blow through him.

He had spoken with the boatman about local customs and listened to village children boast of their imagined delicacies and grand ambitions…

Along this journey, Lu Fang made the sky his blanket and the earth his bed, living abundantly and contentedly—only now did he understand: reading ten thousand scrolls is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles; traveling ten thousand miles is not as good as meeting countless people.

That day, the sky was clear and boundless.

Dust-covered and weary, Lu Fang arrived at a small town called “Bei.” His beard had gone untrimmed for a long time; his clothes were torn in several places—he looked like a beggar.

“So this is what it’s like to be a beggar—you see people’s eyes in a different light.”

Lu Fang smiled bitterly and shook his head, utterly unconcerned by the disdain in some gazes; he pulled out a piece of roasted beast meat.

At that moment, a large dog ran over, wagging its tail.

Lu Fang laughed and tossed half the meat to the dog, then savored the rest.

You know what? Using only his own strength to travel made the food taste better and sleep deeper; he no longer cared about anyone’s gaze—after eating, he lay in the sunlight, basking, eyes closed, resting.

About a quarter-hour passed.

Someone roughly shoved him awake: “Hey! Wake up!”

Lu Fang blinked sleepily, yawned, and barely made out five or six servants standing before him when the lead middle-aged man roughly pulled back his hair: “A destitute scholar?”

Lu Fang’s face showed no expression, but inwardly he was annoyed; still, he nodded and asked: “What do you want?”

One servant said to the middle-aged man, clearly the steward: “Master Sun, this man’s height and features are decent, and he’s a scholar—he fits perfectly.”

“Take him back,” Master Sun said, wiping his hands with distaste.

Lu Fang had intended to resist, but after thinking, he gave up—he suspected these people had ulterior motives; perhaps they meant to control him and sell him as a slave. He’d go see their den himself.

To avoid alarming them, he feigned fear: “Where are you taking me? I won’t go!”

Master Sun ignored him entirely: “You’re lucky—you won’t have to worry about hunger or cold anymore.”

With a glance, Master Sun signaled; several strong servants seized Lu Fang and threw him into a carriage. To prevent escape, two servants sat inside with him.

The carriage traveled for three-quarters of an hour before finally stopping.

When Lu Fang stepped out, he saw a grand mansion ahead—his heart stirred with surprise. Not a den of thieves? Or was this mansion itself the den?

It didn’t look like it.

Before he could look further, the servants of the Gao household dragged him inside.

Master Sun ordered: “First, bathe him, then give him clean clothes.”

Lu Fang was locked in a room; soon after, servants carried in a large wooden tub and began pouring hot water into it.

“What’s going on?”

Lu Fang was baffled.

At that moment, the door opened and a young maid, about twenty, entered; her attire suggested high status in the household.

The maid’s bright eyes scanned Lu Fang up and down, nodding repeatedly: “You’re truly handsome. What’s your name, Young Master?”

“Fang Lu,” Lu Fang replied, using a false name.

The maid curtsied: “Young Master Fang, are you married?”

Lu Fang shook his head.

The maid smiled: “Perfect. I’ll bathe you first, then dress you up, and take you to meet my young lady.”