Nie Changqing trod upon withered branches floating atop the water's surface—his seemingly effortless lightness of movement truly astounded the world. Such mastery could only belong to a warrior with unparalleled command over his own strength; even ordinary grandmasters could never hope to accomplish such a feat.
Upon a splendid wooden boat, the Imperial Tutor's visage was serene and benevolent, his white hair and beard fluttering gently in the leisurely breeze.
Lu Changkong furrowed his brow, while Luo Yue wore a look of puzzlement.
"Bai Yu Jing? Is that the faction the Fan created?" Lu Changkong murmured. Lu Fan had spoken of establishing a power, yet none anticipated it would arise so swiftly.
Casting a glance at the Imperial Tutor, Lu Changkong called out to Nie Changqing, standing upon the lake's surface:
"This gentleman is the Imperial Tutor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. Our entry onto the isle has the Fan's sanction."
As Lu Fan's own father, surely even he was permitted to set foot on the island.
Nie Changqing's gaze shifted to Lu Changkong, a subtle flicker in his eyes. Strands of hair drifted in the air as he inhaled deeply, then shook his head.
"No one may enter the isle without the young master's command."
Lu Changkong was taken aback—unyielding to the point of obstinacy.
The Imperial Tutor aboard the luxurious vessel chuckled softly, stroking his white beard and narrowing his eyes with evident admiration as he regarded Nie Changqing poised upon the water.
"Ping An has discerning eyes—he's taken in a fine disciple."
Nie Changqing neither confirmed nor denied; calling him Lu Fan's disciple was no misstatement.
"Once an abandoned disciple of the Dao Sect, wielder of the Tenth Peerless Blade of the Dao Sect… Nie Changqing."
"I never imagined you would rise from ruin, reborn in flames..."
The Imperial Tutor adjusted his languid posture and stood upon the lavish boat, his gaze gentle as he spoke softly to Nie Changqing.
"That old Dao Sect patriarch, heartless and ruthless, drove you to desperation. Changqing, do you bear hatred?"
Beneath him, the withered branches shifted, water parting to either side, propelling Nie Changqing forward. He shook his head.
"No hatred."
"I was orphaned young, left to beg in the streets, beaten and scorned. It was the venerable one who rescued me from misery, bestowed upon me the blade's art and martial skill, enabling me to carve a place in the Jianghu. How could I harbor hatred?"
The Imperial Tutor stood at the prow, the wind billowing his flowing robes, revealing his slender frame.
"But he tore your family apart, even sent assassins after you..."
Nie Changqing again shook his head.
"What the venerable one granted me, I must repay—thus, no hatred. Yet... from the day Han Lianxiao sought my life, I have repaid that debt."
"Now, the debt I owe... is to the young master."
"When my cultivation is complete, I shall storm the Dao Sect alone, blade in hand, rescue my wife, and reunite my family."
His temples fluttered with the breeze, his eyes distant yet resolute.
With that, Nie Changqing suddenly pressed down on the floating branch beneath him. One end submerged, churning a concave whirlpool.
His body leapt into the air, the butcher's cleaver hovering before him. A strand of spiritual energy surged from his Qi core, weaving about his form.
"Imperial Tutor, please stand down."
Lu Changkong frowned on the boat, but showed no anger—only eyes fixed on the Imperial Tutor.
Luo Yue's hand rested upon the hilt of his long sword, the overwhelming pressure radiating from Nie Changqing unsettling even a warrior of his caliber, cold sweat beading his brow.
The Imperial Tutor stood at the bow, robes billowing, his gaze deep yet clouded.
"Wise in righteousness, clear in enmity, humble in heart—you are a fine child, a promising seed... A pity Ping An claimed you first; otherwise, this old man would have gladly mentored you..."
"You possess a humility surpassing even Mo Tianyu."
The Imperial Tutor sighed.
Nie Changqing's expression remained composed.
"The young master granted me a second chance at life; I shall serve him with unwavering loyalty."
"Imperial Tutor, forgive my rudeness."
Leveraging the rebound of the withered branch, Nie Changqing soared upward.
With a flourish, the butcher's cleaver, enshrouded in spiritual energy, sliced downward with fierce intent.
An invisible blade's aura manifested upon the lake's surface, dissipating the surrounding mist as if a fierce wind had swept it away.
Water parted to either side, white waves surging like serpents toward the wooden vessel.
The Imperial Tutor's countenance remained serene, hands clasped behind his back, unmoved even by such a fearsome stroke, like a gentle breeze brushing the face.
Yet aboard the opulent boat, Lu Changkong and Luo Yue felt immense pressure; the lake water churned as if boiling, roiling endlessly.
Above, dense vapors converged, forming a colossal vortex of mist over the vessel.
"There is a noble gentleman, as one carves jade, polishing and honing..."
"There is a noble gentleman, never to be forgotten..."
Chanted voices echoed along the lakeshore.
The Imperial Tutor, clad in flowing robes, hair white as snow and beard billowing, stood with hands behind his back.
A vast aura of righteousness radiated from above, his gaze serene and unwavering as it met Nie Changqing's.
The cleaving blade descended.
Fish scattered wildly beneath the lake's surface; waters parted, waves rushing aside, the overwhelming blade energy stirring chills upon the skin.
Nie Changqing recalled the last time he had severed a host of Confucian scholars upon Beiluo Lake.
This time, however, he wielded his blade against the Imperial Tutor—the Confucian sage.
As the blade neared the boat by three feet, it faltered.
Between heaven and earth, it seemed the Tutor's chant permeated all—like a spring breeze washing over one's soul, a purifying balm.
The Imperial Tutor lacked the fierce vigor or mysterious spiritual prowess of a grandmaster...
He stood frail upon the wooden boat, as if a mere gust could blow him away.
Yet, Nie Changqing's telekinetic blade could not cleave through this invisible barrier.
The righteous qi was too dense, like a sudden violent gale.
Nie Changqing's face flushed crimson, the Tutor's low chanting thunderous in his ears.
His mental control over the butcher's cleaver faltered—
The blade slipped from his grasp, plunging into the lake.
Upon the boat, the Imperial Tutor remained benevolent, hands folded behind his back, speaking eloquently.
The terrifying mist thickened, taking on form under the influence of the righteous qi, pressing down upon Nie Changqing, submerging him beneath the lake's surface.
In that moment, Nie Changqing sensed a spiritual pressure akin to that of the young master.
Drifting through the water, soaking wet, his eyes fixated upon the elder standing at the prow, a mysterious reverence stirred within his heart.
Lu Changkong and Luo Yue were utterly astounded.
"This is the power of the Confucian sages—the strength of the Sons of the Classics."
Nearby, a figure in pristine white, skirt billowing, arrived by a lone boat—Ning Zhao, her delicate hands folded at her waist, gentle as springtime.
"The young master has honored us with a distinguished guest's arrival and sent me to summon you."
"Imperial Tutor, please enter the isle."
Ning Zhao spoke.
On the wooden boat, the righteous aura dissipated abruptly, as if parting clouds to reveal a clear sky.
The Imperial Tutor laughed heartily, stroking his beard.
"Changqing, learn well from Ping An. That old Dao Sect patriarch is far less reasonable than I."
Then, the boat cleaved the water, moving forward autonomously.
Ning Zhao's solitary vessel drew alongside Nie Changqing's, lifting him aboard, then gently proceeding toward the heart of the lake island.
The mist gradually dispersed.
The boat docked.
With Lu Changkong's aid, the Imperial Tutor stepped onto the isle, treading upon smooth, verdant stones.
Lu Changkong and Luo Yue surveyed the entire island.
The peach blossoms of the peninsula had vanished, replaced by ten towering chrysanthemums.
The Zui Chen Pavilion remained, yet appeared renewed—subdued, refined, and effortlessly luxurious.
The Imperial Tutor trembled slightly, his profound gaze fixed upon the ten towering chrysanthemums, a knowing smile spreading across his face.
Before the pavilion, Lu Fan sat in a wheelchair, clad in white, a thin blanket draped over his legs, smiling warmly.
Above, on the pavilion's wooden terrace, Yi Yue knelt, neck gracefully extended, dark hair cascading, her fox-like features focused as she brewed wine, slipping green plums into the brew.
Ni Yu and Nie Shuang lay prone against the railing, curious yet cautious, peering downward.
Lu Fan caught sight of the Imperial Tutor, their eyes meeting in silent acknowledgment.
Lu Fan, seated in his wheelchair, white robes fluttering, brows like brushstrokes, curled his lips in a faint smile.
"Student Lu Ping An apologizes on behalf of Changqing's disrespect, paying respects to the esteemed master."
Lu Fan cupped his hands, voice carried afar.
The Imperial Tutor stroked his beard, laughter lighting his eyes with a sharp gleam.
Suddenly, a rumbling arose.
With the Tutor's laughter, the lake's mist swirled and coalesced into towering mountains, as if heaven and earth themselves bore down.
The Confucian righteous qi surged.
The Tutor observed Lu Fan with kindness, voice gentle as he spoke:
"There is a noble gentleman, pure as jade, shining like stars..."
"There is a noble gentleman, never to be forgotten..."
As his words fell, the vast righteous qi pressed down upon Lu Fan.
The terrible pressure caused Nie Changqing and Ning Zhao to stagger in their breath.
Beneath the Bai Yu Jing pavilion, Lu Fan smiled serenely, immersed in the righteous qi like a gentle spring breeze.
He reached into a chess box, pinching a black piece between forefinger and middle finger.
Facing the vast righteous qi, he swiftly placed the piece into the void.
The black piece hovered in midair.
A faint blue aura swirled about Lu Fan, invisible spiritual pressure radiating.
Lu Changkong and Luo Yue's faces flushed crimson as the overwhelming spiritual pressure forced them to retreat.
They were awestruck, horrified even, unwilling to approach the circle formed between Lu Fan and the Imperial Tutor.
Only reverence and astonishment remained in the hearts of Lu Changkong, Nie Changqing, and the others.
This was truly a confrontation between Sons of the Classics.
4.1-mini