The embroidery building’s second floor had a total of twenty-one elegant booths, draped with white gossamer curtains cascading like waterfalls from the ceiling, surrounded by vases of freshly picked flowers, giving off an otherworldly aura.
However, the curtains of the other booths had been successively removed by the maids, only those of the Princely Heir’s three booths remained veiled.
The Princely Heir, Bai Li, Chen Ji, Liang Gou’er, and Liang Mao’er were in one booth; She Dengke, Liu Quxing, and other Jianghu figures occupied the next two.
Liang Gou’er didn’t mind; even though the curtains were not removed, maids continuously brought in food and drinks. Annoyed by the small wine cups of Qingyin Small Class, he simply switched to a bowl instead.
The Princely Heir rolled up his sleeves, sitting blankly within the veiled space, at the desk, holding his pen and racking his brains to write even a single line of poetry, to no avail.
He slowly looked towards Chen Ji, who still frowning was deeply asleep, clearly not to be counted on.
Then he slowly turned to Liang Gou’er and Liang Mao’er... forget it!
At last, he turned towards Bai Li, "Hey, Bai Li, could you write a poem? I remember you’ve written poetry before."
Bai Li replied awkwardly, "My writings were criticized as ’a complete mess’ by the masters, I can’t write, what I write would just be a joke."
Liang Gou’er chuckled and said, "This Qingyin Small Class just likes to be obscure; they clearly just want to make money but set up so many obstacles... But scholars really fall for it! If you ask me, Baiyi Lane is not as open as Hongyi Lane. That Miss Yan’er from the Golden Workshop can really hold her liquor; you drink a few cups, and she’ll match you which is truly refreshing."
Liang Mao’er grimaced, "Brother, do you really like her capacity for liquor? I wouldn’t expose you!"
At that moment, from outside the curtains, Chen Wenxiao’s laughter echoed, "Why are there still three curtains that haven’t been removed? Do the friends inside feel it’s more elegant and quiet this way?"
Through the curtains, the Princely Heir retorted, "Excellent lines come by fate, remarkable skills by fluke. Poetry isn’t about quantity, but quality. If it’s not exquisite, what’s the use of writing more? I think Liu Xingshou’s game is somewhat hasty, forcing everyone to immediately write three autumn-related poems. One can write, but what good can come out of such rushed circumstances? Do you think the poems you just wrote will be passed down through the ages?"
Outside, it quieted down, some pondering the Princely Heir’s words, others pondering the meaning behind ’Excellent lines come by fate, remarkable skills by fluke.’
After a moment of silence, Chen Wenzong said, "Can’t hear clearly, remove the curtains to talk."
Princely Heir: "..."
Turning his head towards Chen Ji, he could only pin his fading hopes on Chen Ji waking up.
The Princely Heir grew anxious, "Chen Ji couldn’t have died, could he?"
"Impossible, he’s still breathing," Princess Bai Li thought for a moment and said, "He’s probably just exhausted from the injuries and the subsequent hassle."
"Let’s wait a bit longer, see if he wakes up."
...
...
Chen Ji did not wake; he was still engulfed in a fierce battle.
Atop the summit of Qingshan, Chen Ji and the Giant Spearman were both panting heavily, having exchanged over a hundred probing moves without either gaining the upper hand.
Xuanyuan, unknowingly, had changed into a black King Robe, the sleeves embroidered with golden threads depicting the central Ziwui Court, Taiwei Court, and Tianshi Court on the sides.
The Golden Armor and Royal Banner were nowhere to be seen.
Even while Xuanyuan sat solemnly on a large rock, merely sitting there, he still resembled a sovereign on a golden throne.
His expression was dignified and solemn.
Like the black of his King Robe, calm, rational, unquestionable.
Seeing that the two men paused, Xuanyuan, with an indifferent tone, urged them, "This duel has already lasted ten minutes, how much longer will you dawdle? On a real battlefield, with lines of warriors elbow to elbow, there’s no time for rest!"
At the command, the Giant Spearman immediately swung his bronze spear, roaring forward.
Chen Ji didn’t flinch; he intently watched the incoming spear blade, slightly leaning back, the blade whooshing past the bridge of his nose without leaving a scratch.
This evasive maneuver was performed with such ease, as if breathing with the world, effortlessly and naturally.
Inside Chen Ji, sixteen stoves of energy were ignited, giving him strength far beyond ordinary people, allowing him to even overpower a Jing Dynasty spy.
But receiving such sudden strength, he was still unfamiliar with his own body, lacking skill in leveraging that strength.
Leveraging skills act like a lever; without it, one can only exert eighty percent of their full strength, but with it, one can enhance it to one hundred twenty percent.
Now, Chen Ji had come to understand his own body, where his strength was hidden!
However, the Giant Spearman was no weak opponent; seeing his spear missed, he twisted his waist in a swift turn, forcing the spear’s trajectory to alter.
What was supposed to be a left-to-right sweep turned suddenly into an upward flick!
The blade whisked past Chen Ji’s chest, leaving a superficial cut, thwarting Chen Ji’s potential sneak attack.
Yet even with the wound, Chen Ji did not look down; he kept his gaze fixed on the Giant Spearman, as if the wound left no pain, slightly bent over like a leopard ready to pounce.
Despite being injured, there was no sign of him falling behind.
Xuanyuan once said Chen Ji had lost his instinct for battle, but he suddenly realized he was wrong.
Within just a single day, he witnessed firsthand how Chen Ji ran down hillsides in disarray to now fighting the Giant Spearman on equal footing.
Steps, techniques... even his spatial and contextual awareness were becoming rougher yet more genuine.
Every seemingly rushed and clumsy punch and kick was filled with raw, direct brutality.
"Just twelve hours," Xuanyuan murmured in a low voice.