Chapter 32

“In short, His Majesty’s meaning is this: if you can defeat me, then you may go to the Lesser Upper Realm—but you’d better give up this idea.”

He Zixuan chuckled bitterly: “Besides, you’re exhausted after finishing Dream of the Red Chamber. Resting a bit isn’t a bad idea.”

“I will enter the Lesser Upper Realm!”

Lu Fang said solemnly.

Now that he knew this world was bound by heavenly dao restrictions, while his realm was still low, he must seize as much fate as possible—if he waited until his realm rose and the heavenly dao tightened its grip, he might as well be waiting to die.

So he must go to the Lesser Upper Realm and seize vast amounts of fate.

The heavenly dao in the Lesser Upper Realm is incomplete; there, whether in battle or using literary qi to advance his realm, everything is far superior to the outside world.

“Then there’s no help for it—you must defeat me.”

He Zixuan said helplessly.

“Fine, let’s spar.”

Lu Fang said seriously.

His book spirit, Yan Chixia, was seventh-rank first-tier, inherently stronger than a normal seventh-rank first-tier Confucian.

Added to that, the extraordinary ability “Dirge of Fallen Flowers” could restrain He Zixuan.

Even if the book spirit couldn’t gain enhancement from “Dirge of Fallen Flowers,” it still had fighting power.

“How could you possibly defeat me?”

He Zixuan shook his head and stopped trying to persuade him; only by making Lu Fang see the gap between them could he crush his desire to enter the Lesser Upper Realm.

“We’ll only know after we try.”

Lu Fang stepped first onto the empty ground in the courtyard.

He Zixuan followed right behind him, stepping out of the study with his arms crossed loosely, utterly unguarded.

In his view, Lu Fang had no chance of winning.

Even if Lu Fang could use his book spirit Yan Chixia to defeat Xiao Jincheng, who was two ranks higher, He Zixuan himself was seventh-rank third-tier—and a master of controlling righteous qi.

He was no ordinary man!

“Please instruct me.”

Lu Fang bowed, and at his center, pink peach blossoms descended from thin air.

A breeze swept the petals into a circular ring, dancing around He Zixuan, locking his position.

“An extraordinary ability?”

He Zixuan’s condescension vanished—he felt his righteous qi being suppressed by some unseen force.

He forcefully waved his sleeve, trying to dispel the petals before him.

But the petals locked onto him were intangible—impossible to dispel.

Clang!

A sword’s hum rang out.

The book spirit Yan Chixia, appearing beside Lu Fang, summoned a glowing moonlight dagger that split into two, then four…

“Ten Thousand Swords Art: Hundred Swords!”

Yan Chixia pointed, and a hundred blades of light formed a single line, streaking toward He Zixuan.

“Ink Calls Clouds and Mist!”

He Zixuan shouted loudly, and before him, a giant brush-shaped mass of “

mist” enveloped his entire body.

“Mystic Armor.”

Lu Fang shouted almost simultaneously; as the mystic armor clung to him, he darted left without hesitation.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh…

A hundred blades pierced through the mist.

He Zixuan was not inside the mist at all—he had slipped behind Lu Fang, aiming to capture the leader first, but Lu Fang sensed it instantly and used the mystic armor to create distance.

The strength of one’s momentum is tied to perception; strong physique means strong momentum.

Because Lu Fang had consumed vast amounts of literary qi, his physique and momentum were stronger than an ordinary person’s by more than one rank.

“How can you move so fast?”

He Zixuan’s face fell; barely had he spoken when the hundred blades struck again.

The blades moved too fast!

He Zixuan had been distracted moments ago and couldn’t dodge—he could only forcibly summon a righteous qi shield to block the blades.

Bing bing bing…

The blades steadily wore down the shield; the final blade transformed into a glowing moonlight dagger and sent He Zixuan flying several zhang away.

“I won’t hold back anymore!”

He Zixuan, enraged and humiliated, unleashed a torrent of righteous qi: “A waterfall plunges three thousand feet, as if the Milky Way tumbles from the ninth heaven.”

As the battle poem took effect, Lu Fang looked up and saw a colossal righteous qi waterfall crashing down from a hundred zhang above.

Lu Fang pushed his mystic armor to its limit and barely avoided the tangible waterfall summoned by He Zixuan!

“A thousand mountains, birds gone…”

He Zixuan unleashed one battle poem after another.

Within the range of “Dirge of Fallen Flowers,” Lu Fang moved with astonishing speed—each attack either dodged or shattered before touching him, struck down by the glowing moonlight daggers.

The battle lasted an hour.

“Stop! Stop! I yield!”

He Zixuan’s face was pale, beads of sweat pouring down his cheeks.

Every attack he used drained immense righteous qi; even with pills, he couldn’t replenish it in such a short time.

He had used every trick imaginable—and still hadn’t touched Lu Fang once.

His righteous qi was utterly depleted; he simply couldn’t go on. He had done his best—if His Majesty questioned him, he could truthfully say Lu Fang was simply too “abnormal.”

It wasn’t that he couldn’t win—he just couldn’t even land a hit.

Somehow, Lu Fang showed no sign of fatigue at all, as if he hadn’t expended a single ounce after an hour of combat.

“You’ve been consuming literary qi this whole time?”

He Zixuan asked.

“Yes.” Lu Fang nodded.

The effect of literary qi was public knowledge—he had it, everyone knew, no need to hide it.

A piece of literary qi the size of a thumbnail could restore six-tenths of a seventh-rank cultivator’s stamina and momentum.

Most importantly, literary qi replenished extremely quickly.

Without literary qi replenishment during the fight, even with the enhancement of “Dirge of Fallen Flowers,” Lu Fang would have lost to He Zixuan.

He Zixuan shook his head repeatedly: “You waste such precious literary qi like this—just to get to the Lesser Upper Realm? Xiao Yunru is the undisputed top seventh-rank third-tier. I can’t beat you, but he won’t be so easy.”

“I’m already a standout among seventh-rank third-tier, but three years ago, I lost to Xiao Yunru in fewer than ten moves.”

Lu Fang said solemnly: “What does it matter if he’s the top seventh-rank third-tier? If he keeps his word, fine—but if he dares to harbor murderous intent, who will ultimately prevail is still uncertain! I must go to the Lesser Upper Realm!”

He couldn’t beat Xiao Yunru? He could run.

If he couldn’t outrun him? He could use literary qi to drain him.

He had slain the fifth-rank demonic race prodigy Bai Yuying—would he fear a seventh-rank third-tier like Xiao Yunru?

“You, even with your ‘Peach Blossom’ extraordinary ability to restrain…”

He Zixuan tried to persuade him again.

Lu Fang didn’t respond—he walked to the desk, spread out paper, and ground ink.

“I plan to write another book. When it’s done, I’ll have someone deliver it to you—ask the Minister of Literature to review it and see if it can continue serialization in the Great Zhou Literary Gazette.”

He Zixuan followed Lu Fang into the room, still trying to persuade him, but now frowned: “Did I hear right? You’re starting another book now? Are you sure you shouldn’t rest properly first?”

“Outside, many people are watching you. If your new book is too different from Dream of the Red Chamber, you’ll be attacked.”

Lu Fang said confidently: “I have full confidence in this book.”

The Lesser Upper Realm opens in seventeen days.

Before entering, he needed more literary qi.

Writing the third book he obtained from the Ink Brush Book Realm—with the enhancement of the Grand Void Illusion—might bring unexpected rewards.

“You’re writing now? Then I’ll wait before leaving.”

He Zixuan sat down on the nearest chair and probed: “Are you planning to write another book like Dream of the Red Chamber? Why not just continue Dream of the Red Chamber instead of ending it?”

Lu Fang smiled lightly: “Dream of the Red Chamber is finished—writing more would be adding feet to a snake. My new book will be…”

…

South of the Imperial Capital.

A beam of light shot from the “Marquis of Literary Crown” estate straight into the clouds.

Li Yu stood in the courtyard, gazing up at the towering pillar of light, astonished: “The source of this phenomenon is…”

“Hahaha…” Sima Yu, the semi-sage of the Shi family, seeing the phenomenon, threw back his head and laughed loudly; his book fell to the ground as he vanished.

“What has my brother Lu done to cause such a phenomenon?”

The great Confucian Wang Fu rose in delight.

Most of the people in the Imperial Capital turned their gaze toward the pillar, as a voice like distant thunder echoed…