"Sigh, the matter of cutting ties years ago, it could also be blamed on Master’s temper..." Yuan Buyu least wanted to bring up those past events,
it was too heartbreaking.
"Master, I don’t blame him. He was like a toad practicing martial arts, with only such limited reach. He didn’t have the ability to help me." Feng Moyan said, "Senior Brother, let’s not talk about depressing stuff. How about we talk about your disciple instead... You, as always, have no eye for picking apprentices."
"You motherfucker, we agreed not to talk about depressing things, and you bring up the most depressing topic."
Yuan Buyu cursed with a laugh.
During his younger years, he took in four disciples,
the first stole his woman,
the second stole his reputation,
the third stole his money,
the fourth, obedient as they were, killed the previous three disciples for him, but ended up going mad and locked themselves in the Blood Well.
Zhou Xuan was his fifth disciple.
"Of course we’re going to talk about it. Your recent disciple—quite the shining star, huh?"
"Oh, absolutely. In every aspect, he’s made me proud." Yuan Buyu counted on his fingers and said, "His spiritual cultivation is progressing rapidly. He’s brave, smart, and even has a taste for the finer things in life."
Yuan Buyu took out his pocket watch and said, "My disciple bought this. Nice, isn’t it?"
At this moment, Yuan Buyu looked exactly like an old man bragging about his children at the park.
"It’s beautiful. So, after all this boasting, how’s his storytelling?" The middle-aged man, being a storyteller himself, was particularly passionate about storytelling.
To him, a storyteller who couldn’t tell stories was simply incomplete.
"Excellent! Absolutely fantastic."
In Yuan Buyu’s eyes, Zhou Xuan was flawless. If love is blind, then Master Yuan’s eyes saw Zhou Xuan as more beautiful than any beloved.
My disciple, a true genius, without a single flaw.
"Is he better than your second disciple?"
Feng Moyan had grown up alongside Yuan Buyu and was thoroughly familiar with his fourth younger brother’s troubles.
Mentioning the second disciple,
Yuan Buyu’s expression turned grim,
for among storytellers, there was a tradition known as the "Thank You Letter." After a disciple completed their apprenticeship, they would deliver a narrative identical to their master’s.
The two would recite the same story, testing whether the master had withheld secrets and whether the disciple had put in the effort.
But this "Thank You Letter" tradition was typically performed in private, never in public, lest the master lose and face disgrace.
Yuan Buyu’s second disciple had delivered a "Thank You Letter," but not in private—it was presented on stage, in Mingjiang Prefecture’s most prestigious theater.
At the time, Yuan Buyu thought it was just a normal performance and prepared a short folk tale, *Fox Fairy Chronicles.*
But as he was about to step on stage, his second disciple went up first and recited *Fox Fairy Chronicles.* In front of the entire audience, the disciple revealed it was his "Thank You Letter."
The audience, thrilled, demanded Yuan Buyu to come on stage and compete to see who told the story better.
For a storyteller who cultivates their spiritual power through applause, how could they refuse the audience’s cheers? Yuan Buyu went on stage and also presented *Fox Fairy Chronicles.*
As Yuan Buyu ascended, the second disciple descended. As they crossed paths, the disciple whispered to Yuan Buyu, "Master, I saw our eldest brother fooling around with Mistress."
A storyteller requires focus to deliver their craft; distractions are devastating.
The sudden "Thank You Letter" had already unsettled Yuan Buyu; this comment completely shattered his concentration.
That performance was riddled with mistakes and jeers from the audience.
The "Thank You Letter" had become the "Teacher’s Hammer,"
with that one performance, Yuan Buyu lost his reputation, while his second disciple gained immense fame by stepping on his master’s shoulders.
This incident became a thorn in Yuan Buyu’s heart. But no matter how it pained him, he couldn’t deny that while his second disciple’s spiritual cultivation was lackluster, their storytelling talent and creativity were exceptional.
Feng Moyan, fully aware of that disciple’s storytelling prowess, had deliberately invoked the comparison with Zhou Xuan.
Yuan Buyu stiffened and told Feng Moyan, "My youngest disciple is far better at storytelling than my second disciple ever was. He told a tale so moving that it made Lady Lianhua weep and packed the Zhou Family’s Troupe to the brim with spectators."
"So why doesn’t he tell stories anymore?"
"His aspirations don’t lie with being a storyteller, but he still tells stories for friends."
Yuan Buyu said, "In terms of storytelling alone, my disciple Zhou Xuan will, within three years, undoubtedly become the best storyteller.
In terms of spiritual cultivation, within ten years, Zhou Xuan will also be unmatched in our field.
My disciple is simply the best."
"You adore this youngest disciple of yours. Have you thought about what you’d do if he suddenly died...?"
"What the hell do you mean by that?"
Yuan Buyu, hearing these words, immediately grew agitated. They’d been happily discussing his apprentice, and now Feng Moyan was cursing him.
"It doesn’t mean anything. I came to the Zhou Family’s Troupe because someone asked me to relay a message."
"Sometime in the next day or two, Zhou Xuan should leave Mingjiang Prefecture. Otherwise, someone aims to take his head."
Feng Moyan opened his folded fan, smiling slyly as he spoke to Yuan Buyu.
"Then let them try..."
Yuan Buyu unleashed his spiritual aura,
clearly revealing his cultivation as a seven-incense storyteller.
"Senior Brother... You’d better think this through. In Mingjiang Prefecture, if *that person* wants to kill Zhou Xuan, no one can stop them."
Feng Moyan strode away from the Zhou Family’s Troupe, shaking his fan.
As Feng Moyan stepped onto the main street outside the troupe, a sudden burst of wind surged around his feet. With one step forward, the entire scenery shifted.
When he finally stopped, he was already at the doorstep of the Mingjiang Grand Theater.
"I hope Senior Brother listens to reason. I wouldn’t want him to lose another disciple late in life, especially one as good as this."
Feng Moyan muttered to himself before ascending the theater’s stairs.
At the top of the stairs, someone waited for him.
"Mr. Feng." Jing Deng shook hands with Feng Moyan and asked, "What’s Mr. Yuan’s stance?"
"I’m waiting for his answer," Feng Moyan replied. "If my junior brother won’t listen, then I’ll have no choice but to kill his precious disciple."
"And what if he listens and sends Zhou Xuan back to Ping Shui Prefecture?"
"Then we don’t kill him." Feng Moyan glanced sidelong at Jing Deng.
"But the young lady insists that no matter where Zhou Xuan goes, he must die."
"Impossible. In Mingjiang Prefecture, I can kill Zhou Xuan, but if he returns to Ping Shui Prefecture, I won’t be able to touch him."
Feng Moyan admitted candidly.
"You mean, there are people even Mr. Feng cannot kill? Are you afraid of Zhou Lingyi?"
"Not at all," Feng Moyan replied. "What I fear is Zhou Xuan being with Zhou Lingyi. If those siblings stand together, it’s best not to provoke them."
ps: Dear readers, here’s a long Chapter for you. Mwah!