Chapter 114: Chapter 114

Day sixteen since Chenjian Wu’s Ninth Chief Tu Xiaotian lost his eyes.

Dawn broke.

Shen Xiuhan’s ears twitched. Light, rapid footsteps — quick as a fawn’s — grew closer and closer.

The door gave a soft BUMP as a small, pale hand pushed it open.

A tiny dumpling of a child poked half her body inside — a sky-high topknot bobbing, a face like carved jade. Her big round eyes spun once around the room.

The instant they landed on Shen Xiuhan in bed, they blazed with delight.

“Gege!”

With that cry, Shen Momo kicked off her little cloth shoes and scrambled onto the bed on all fours, diving headlong into Shen Xiuhan’s arms.

“Ha ha ha!”

Shen Xiuhan laughed out loud.

He caught her under the armpits and hoisted her high overhead. Momo’s stubby legs kicked wildly in the air, and peals of silver laughter rang through the room.

The siblings romped on the bed for a while.

Then Shen Xiuhan reached into his pack and produced two duck eggs. Faint purple veining traced each shell — the eggs of the Purple-Beaked Duck!

“Momo, these are treasure beast eggs, just like the Azure Spike Fowl eggs from last time. They’ll hatch into live ones. A present for you…”

“Wow! Clucky-quackies!”

The little girl’s eyes went wide as saucers. She cradled the eggs against her chest with the utmost care, utterly enchanted, pressing her cheek against the shells and nuzzling again and again.

The three Azure Spike Fowl chicks in the backyard had since grown hard, dark plumage, shedding their downy adorableness.

They strutted around the coop all day, heads held high, full of self-importance.

Now, with two more eggs in hand, Momo’s excitement soared. She clutched them to her chest and made a beeline for the back.

“Shen Momo!”

Madam Zheng’s voice carried from the main room. “Hurry up and eat! You’ll be late for the tutor, and you’ll get the ruler across your knuckles!”

Had Madam Zheng not called her repeatedly, the girl could have spent the entire day in the backyard with her chickens and ducks.

After breakfast, Madam Zheng took Momo to the tutor’s.

Shen Xiuhan stood in the courtyard and placed a Jade Blood Pill on his tongue.

The pill dissolved instantly into a scorching torrent that poured down his throat and flooded through every limb.

“Hoo!”

Riding the medicinal surge, Shen Xiuhan sank his waist and planted his stance, flowing into the Golden Vulture Soaring Wind Art.

Still as a roosting bird of prey, then explosive as a golden vulture seizing the sky.

He trained for a full hour.

Only when white qi-blood mist was steaming from the crown of his head — medicinal force and qi-blood having scoured and circulated through his body again and again — did he collect his breath and end the session.

He went to the well, drew water, and washed away the slick layer of sweat. Changing into a clean, sharp blue martial outfit, he set out for Mei Hall.

In the backyard coop —

“Bawk!”

The old hen clucked twice, shifted her weight, and revealed the two eggs beneath her — noticeably larger than anything she’d ever laid. She cocked her head to one side and fell into deep contemplation.

…

Mei Hall.

The training yard.

Shouts and the thud of fists rolled like distant thunder, carrying well beyond the gate.

Shen Xiuhan crossed the threshold. A single glance told him the yard held a fresh crop of unfamiliar, green-looking faces.

Most were fifteen or sixteen, dressed in rough cotton shorts. Some trembled through horse-stances, some held their frames crooked and unsteady — clearly recent arrivals.

Meanwhile, several faces he remembered had vanished without a trace, as though they’d never been.

The martial path — like a thousand men trying to cross a single-plank bridge. Ruthless beyond measure.

Most likely, their tuition had run out before they could break through to Blood Tempering. In the end, they’d had no choice but to leave in silence.

“Xiuhan!”

Today it was Second Senior Brother Xu Chuan leading the formation drill.

Drenched in sweat through his rough cotton jacket, Xu Chuan’s face lit up the moment he spotted Shen Xiuhan. He dropped his stance at once, waved a big hand, and flashed a grin full of white teeth.

Shen Xiuhan set aside his thoughts, returned the smile, and went over to catch up.

Meanwhile.

The rear hall.

Sandalwood incense curled upward in thin blue threads.

Mei Shuangfeng stood at the center of the hall, teapot in hand, brewing tea herself.

Boiling water poured into a purple clay pot. Fragrance bloomed.

She divided the tea into several celadon cups and served them to her left and right.

In the huanghuali armchair on the left sat Jiang Qinghong, crisp and sharp in black martial attire.

On the right sat three figures in a row.

The first was a dashing young gentleman.

He wore a moon-white brocade robe, a jade belt at his waist, and a folding fan in his hand. His face was flawless as carved jade, lips curved in an easy smile — the very picture of effortless elegance.

The second was a slender young woman with close-cropped hair at her ears, clean and efficient in appearance.

The last was a tall man in a dark, form-fitting outfit.

His features were hard-edged — as though hewn with an axe — jawline rigid, and his entire person radiated a blade-sharp, stay-away menace that made others flinch.

Once Mei Shuangfeng finished pouring, the gentleman with the folding fan lifted his cup, took a sip, and broke into a grinning, head-bobbing sigh.

“It’s been ages since I’ve tasted tea brewed by Master’s own hand… Mm, sweet and fragrant. Ha ha ha!”

Mei Shuangfeng flicked a glance at him. Her tone was flat. “Drink your tea.”

The man gave a sheepish chuckle, not the least bit embarrassed. His gaze drifted to Jiang Qinghong across the way, and a note of genuine wonder entered his voice.

“Junior Sister… congratulations! Breaking through to Hidden Strength in your early twenties — truly a heaven-sent prodigy.”

“That kind of talent, even among the inner-gate disciples of the four great sects, would rank near the very top!”

Jiang Qinghong smiled.

“Senior Brother Zuo is too kind. Junior Sister is far behind you. You entered Hidden Strength two years ago and were accepted into the Qi Path of Bixia Mountain Estate as an inner-gate disciple — far more impressive.”

“Oh, don’t flatter him, Qinghong…”

The close-cropped girl spoke up with a bright, cutting laugh.

“He broke through to Hidden Strength two years ago, got into the Qi Path, and immediately started coasting. Loafs around all day with nothing to show for it. He hasn’t even opened his second aperture yet. Praise him any more and his tail will wag right off.”

“Ding Ning — drink your tea!”

Zuo Guangshu rolled his eyes extravagantly and flung the line back in Mei Shuangfeng’s exact tone, drawing a ripple of laughter from the room.

At the head of the hall, Mei Shuangfeng wore a faint smile. She was clearly in good spirits.

These three were all senior disciples who had trained in her hall and gone on to make names for themselves in the wider world.

Back when they were still practicing in the yard, Jiang Qinghong had been the little junior sister trailing behind — still baby-faced, still wide-eyed.

Now they had spread their wings, each carving out a place among the great powers.

Zuo Guangshu, for instance, came from the Changyun Zuo family. Not a great house by any means, but he had broken through to Hidden Strength young and won a place as an inner-gate disciple in Bixia Mountain Estate’s Qi Path — a figure of some stature.

The close-cropped girl, Ding Ning, was the elder sister of Fifth Senior Sister Ding Qing, currently in the inner court.

She and the silent, dark-clad Wang Lin both served in the Longxiang Army.

Every one of them had a bright, promising future ahead.

With that thought, Mei Shuangfeng set down her teacup. Her gaze swept across the two soldiers.

“Ding Ning, Wang Lin — what brings you back this time? Is it the Longxiang Martial Feast?”