Chapter 154: Chapter 154
Shen Xiuhan’s spirits soared. He pocketed the letter and remarked offhandedly:
“Is the shop busy? Need a hand?”
“Not at all.”
Liang Xiuhe waved him off with a smile, untying her apron.
“The rush is over. Just one customer left — a gentleman from the prefectural city. Nearly done eating.”
“Good.”
Shen Xiuhan nodded, said nothing more, and walked back into the courtyard.
The sun had already shifted west, its lingering warmth painting half the courtyard wall a soft amber.
He sat down on the stone bench, drew a steadying breath, and broke the seal.
HISS!
The fire-wax cracked open.
His fingers slipped into the envelope and drew out a sheet of paper, folded into a neat square. The scent of fresh ink rose to meet him.
He spread it open. The handwriting was upright and square:
【To Junior Brother Shen —
Bixia Mountain Estate’s annual assessment is upon us. The once-a-year disciple-intake ceremony opens in mid-August.
Your foolish elder brother has taken the liberty of pulling a few strings within the sect, and has recommended you to one of the Qi Path elders.
When the time comes, bring this letter and present yourself. You may bypass the outer-gate formalities and enter the inner gate directly for cultivation.
This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to leap the dragon gate. You must not miss it…】
His eyes dropped to the bottom.
The signature, neat and proper, read three characters:
“Zuo Guangshu.”
Shen Xiuhan’s gaze stalled. His lips pressed together, and a helpless sigh escaped.
“How is it this Senior Brother Zuo’s letter?”
Indeed.
The sender was none other than his senior martial brother — the man who had left Mei Hall years ago and now cultivated within the inner gate of Nanxiang Commandery’s Bixia Mountain Estate.
Zuo Guangshu!
But the letter Shen Xiuhan had dispatched via the courier station a few days ago had been addressed to the celebrated Chief Disciple of Zhaixing Sect!
One character’s difference. A thousand li off the mark.
Long ago, the night he killed Gao Nian, he’d seen and heard with his own eyes and ears that the man had committed a rape and murder in Shitan County, Guangwu Commandery.
Later, while escorting Ji Xue and Ji Yao back from Wuji Academy, he’d heard Ma Jinghang and Wen Beng discuss the past of Zhaixing Sect’s famed Chief Disciple Zuo.
Cross-referencing the two, Shen Xiuhan had arrived at the truth.
The woman Gao Nian had violated and killed was none other than Chief Disciple Zuo’s younger sister.
Now Gao Nian was dead by his hand. Only Gao Fu remained — half-responsible.
Shen Xiuhan had originally intended to leave the man alone.
But the situation had grown tangled beyond measure — the Diaohailou true disciple’s inheritance was at stake, and after breaching the Bai estate, they’d have to contend with Duan Xiao.
He had no choice but to resort to this gambit.
“A pity…”
Shen Xiuhan rubbed the bridge of his nose and read the letter once more, emotions churning.
Though both bore the surname Zuo, the gap in cultivation between the two was vast as the sky.
Zuo Guangshu’s talent was modest — he’d barely scraped into Hidden Strength.
Zhaixing Sect’s Chief Disciple, on the other hand, had reportedly broken through to Transforming Strength two years ago, according to Wen Beng.
If he could draw that man here, dealing with Duan Xiao would be a foregone conclusion.
Still, it wasn’t a total loss.
Sooner or later, Shen Xiuhan would leave this little county and step into the wider rivers and lakes.
Bixia Mountain Estate, as one of Nanxiang Commandery’s four great powers, set a high bar for admission.
Its disciples were handpicked from the prefectural city’s great families and from across the eighty-one counties under its aegis.
Even across all of Cangzhou, the Estate was a name to reckon with.
Using Zuo Guangshu’s connection to skip the outer gate and enter the inner gate directly? That was an excellent path.
Shen Xiuhan tucked the letter away, let out a long breath, and murmured to himself.
“Well enough. Once I’ve settled things here… I’ll make the trip to Bixia Mountain Estate.”
“If you’d like, you could also try your hand at our Zhaixing Sect.”
Before the words had left his mouth, a voice — unfamiliar, faintly amused, clear as struck jade — rose without warning from directly behind him.
“Hm?”
“Who’s there?!”
Shen Xiuhan’s pupils contracted to pinpoints. A rash of gooseflesh erupted across his back.
CLANG!
Cold Granary cleared its sheath.
Startled Swan, Roaming Dragon at full power — toe-tip to ground — his figure shot out like a phantom, covering three zhang in two strides.
Before he’d even landed, he was already twisting at the waist. The sword carved a cold, gleaming arc, its point leveled at the spot where he’d just been standing.
His cultivation had reached mid-Hidden Strength. The Tinggong aperture was wide open — his hearing so acute that a falling leaf or a passing gnat within several zhang couldn’t escape his senses.
Yet this person had crept up behind him without a trace. Not a whisper of presence, not a ripple of qi. Until the man spoke, Shen Xiuhan hadn’t detected a thing.
Which meant…
If this person had harbored ill intent…
He’d already be dead.
Shen Xiuhan drew a slow breath and stared ahead. But when the stranger’s features registered, his gaze snagged.
Because the man was, frankly, unreasonably handsome.
Shen Xiuhan himself was no slouch in the looks department.
Especially since achieving Manifest Strength — tall, sharp-featured, straight-backed — he drew glances from girls and women whenever he walked down the street. Matchmakers showed up every other day.
And among the men he’d met:
Xiao Wu was bold and gallant — a drawn blade with an edge of martial grandeur.
Ji Ning had a boyish face but a presence cold as deep water.
Even Wen Beng of Changshui County was blessed with fine features — smooth, warm, the image of a young gentleman.
But set beside the figure before him, every one of them paled.
The young man in the courtyard looked twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He wore a moon-white robe without a speck of dust.
Brows like distant mountains. Eyes like bright stars. Nose straight as a blade. A curve at his lips — neither too warm nor too cool.
He simply stood there in the yard, robes still, perfectly at ease, yet he radiated the bearing of an immortal descended from the heavens.
Catching Shen Xiuhan’s hair-trigger, coiled-spring posture, the young man couldn’t help but laugh, clapping his hands. His voice was clear and mellow as fine jade.
“No need for such alarm, little brother… You remind me of a tortoiseshell my younger sister kept as a child — perfectly calm, until it spotted a stranger, and then — just like that — all bristle and jump.”
A tortoiseshell?
Shen Xiuhan’s eye twitched. What kind of comparison was that?
Likening him to a cat?
But in the flash of a thought, a bolt of insight struck. His body jolted.
Cultivation far beyond his own. A younger sister. And here in his courtyard, unannounced…
Every clue aligned.
Shen Xiuhan’s breath quickened. He lowered the sword’s killing edge and ventured:
“You are…?”
The young man didn’t answer. He strolled to the courtyard’s stone table with unhurried steps, lifted the hem of his robe, and settled into a seat with casual grace. Only then did he raise his eyes to Shen Xiuhan, smiling.
“You sent me the letter yourself — and now you ask who I am?”
It really was him!
Zhaixing Sect’s Chief Disciple!
A Transforming Strength master!
Shen Xiuhan’s pupils dilated. His heart hammered.
He’d assumed that, at best, the man would write back to confirm and strategize — that Shen Xiuhan might even need to travel to Zhaixing Sect in person.
He had never imagined the man would simply… come.
Counting the days, the Chief Disciple must have set out the moment the letter reached him, traveling day and night to reach Changyun.
With that realization, Shen Xiuhan sheathed Cold Granary, straightened his robe, and clasped his fists.
“Shen Xiuhan, at your service. I’d heard of you before, Senior, but never had the pleasure. Forgive me for not recognizing you.”
“None of that ‘Senior’ business.” The young man waved a languid hand.
Then Shen Xiuhan witnessed something he could scarcely believe.
The man raised his hand — his fair, slender palm had been visibly empty.
A soft CLICK.
A white jade wine-set — pot and two cups, exquisite and gleaming — materialized on the stone table as though conjured from thin air.
‘That’s…’
‘A storage treasure!’