Zhou Xuan’s previous life had countless over-the-top lines from movies and novels. Picking any two would surely suffice to "enhance the atmosphere" for Lord Jian, wouldn’t it?
"If the heavens had never birthed you, Lord Jian, then the Jian Dao would be an eternal night?"
"Not great, it’s a bit too exaggerated."
Surprisingly, Lord Jian was rather reserved at the moment.
"Alright then, let me try another one... ’With the sun and moon in my grasp and stars plucked from the sky, none in this world are like me.’
Lord Jian thought about it and said, "Still a bit exaggerated."
My lord, the art of boasting is inherently extravagant. Wanting it to be subtle is surely hard to achieve.
Thinking about how Lord Jian had helped him today and patiently answered his questions, Zhou Xuan felt he absolutely needed to come up with a line that satisfied Lord Jian.
He recalled seven or eight lines from his memory, but none of them pleased Lord Jian.
And now, the situation had changed— Zhou Xuan began treating Lord Jian’s demand as a challenge.
"I refuse to believe I can’t find one you’ll approve of!"
Zhou Xuan switched tactics and began observing Lord Jian’s appearance. He loved wearing white robes and considered himself powerful... well, to be fair, he truly was powerful. Coupled with his fondness for dramatic displays,
all these traits converged together,
Zhou Xuan suddenly thought of a poem. He turned to Lord Jian and said, "To question the heavens and pursue the Dao endlessly, to eradicate unending evils into oblivion..."
"Now this one’s quite interesting." Lord Jian seemed moved.
Question the heavens and pursue the Dao?
Wasn’t that exactly what he’d been doing all these years?
Resisting the summons from the Time Realm’s will, vowing to defend Ping Shui Prefecture— didn’t all this count as questioning the heavens and pursuing the Dao?
"Lord Jian, don’t be impatient. This poem actually has two more lines."
"Then I must listen carefully." Lord Jian leaned his ear toward Zhou Xuan, eager to hear the rest of the poem.
"Aside from your mantle of triple-layered snow, who in this world dares wear white robes?"
Lord Jian listened intently, growing silent. He looked at his white robe, murmuring the poem to himself repeatedly, his joy intensifying with every recitation.
"Aside from my mantle of triple-layered snow, who in this world dares wear white robes... Appropriate, wonderfully appropriate."
Lord Jian now envisioned himself defeating a formidable enemy and confidently reciting these words aloud— how utterly dashing such a moment would be!
"If that day happens to be one of heavy snowfall, it would make the scene even more fitting." Lord Jian indulged in his fanciful imaginings.
The Red Coffin Lady clapped her hands enthusiastically and said, "I might be a simple person, but Young Master’s lines are remarkably elegant."
Zhou Xuan chuckled and replied, "I merely remembered this poem from elsewhere; it’s not that my own literary skills are exceptional."
Yet, to the Red Coffin Lady’s ears, Zhou Xuan’s words carried a different implication. She thought Young Master was simply being overly modest.
With elements like "white robes," "questioning the heavens and pursuing the Dao," and "eradicating evils endlessly," how could this poem’s description of Lord Jian be anything but perfect— so fitting it seemed impossible not to be freshly crafted.
"Truly, I didn’t write it. Perhaps the poet who crafted these lines hosts someone like Lord Jian in his own heart, wouldn’t you agree?"
Zhou Xuan’s explanation utterly delighted Lord Jian, who swiftly snapped out of his reverie and gave Zhou Xuan a hearty pat on the shoulder, saying,
"I’ve long heard about the Zhou Family’s Nuo God and how brilliantly his storytelling is praised— how his rendition of *The White-Browed Hero* packs the Zhou Family’s Troupe to bursting, and how Lady Lianhua heard his tales to the sound of Buddha’s hymns echoing in her heart.
Initially, I was skeptical. How could one excel equally in cultivation talent and literary prowess?
But now, I believe it. The Zhou Family’s Nuo God is truly a man of exceptional talent, a great talent indeed."
Zhou Xuan felt embarrassed, turning flushed all over and deciding to lower his head in silence while riding his donkey.
On the way to East Market Street, Zhou Xuan even imagined Lord Jian defeating an enemy and, in an impulsive moment, reciting the poem— "Aside from my mantle of triple-layered snow, who in this world dares wear white robes?"
The vision was too vividly dazzling to picture.
"So cringeworthy, so cringeworthy, but I desperately want to witness that scene!"
When the three of them arrived at East Market Street, the Red Coffin Lady escorted the Evil God "Guang Yin" into the Zhou Family’s Jingyi Shop, whereas Lord Jian returned to Ping Shui Prefecture. Even as he bid farewell to Zhou Xuan, he was softly murmuring the poem, afraid he’d forget it.
Zhou Xuan inwardly praised, "In this world, truly hard things only bow to sincerity. Whether it is dramatic displays or anything else, Lord Jian’s daily recitation will let the poem seep into his very bones, so when the time comes for theatrics, his expression can flow naturally.
No wonder Lord Jian can cultivate such tremendous incense flames; he treats even the smallest matters with this much seriousness."
After Lord Jian left,
Zhou Xuan began his interrogation.
Mo Tingsheng and the Evil God "Guang Yin"— Zhou Xuan decided to interrogate the former first.
Given how crucial these two figures were,
The Red Coffin Lady passed secret notes to the Painter while Zhou Xuan was interrogating.
The Painter had Qing Feng keep an eye on Mr. Feng, then tore through space to arrive at the Zhou Family’s Jingyi Shop to lend his support.
"Where’s the Young Master?"
Jingyi Shop wasn’t conducting business today; its doors were shut tight, with the Evil God Guang Yin firmly pinned under the Red Coffin Lady’s foot.
"The Young Master has already gone to the second floor to interrogate Mo Tingsheng. Beneath my foot here is the Mingjiang Evil God."
The Painter glanced down and immediately felt repulsed.
"Wow, this Evil God— how can something be *this* ugly?"
"Guang Yin" felt thoroughly miserable. He’d already been chastised as ugly several times today.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
"I’ll have you know, among Evil Gods, I count as one of the handsome ones."
"Hahaha." The Painter and the Red Coffin Lady burst into laughter at the same time.
The Zhou Family’s Jingyi Shop was filled with an atmosphere of cheerful hilarity...
Zhou Xuan began interrogating Mo Tingsheng.
To Zhou Xuan, Mo Tingsheng was akin to Mr. Feng in significance— a treasure trove.
Mo Tingsheng’s flesh and blood were crucial for Zhou Xuan’s purpose of analyzing them with Miss Qiang to see if they could be used to restore Yun Ziliang’s physical form.
His memories were key to unraveling the kidnapper’s thirty-year conspiracy.
And Mo Tingsheng’s incense flames, intriguingly distinct from those of the Jing Country people, marked the first Buddha Country individual to fall into Zhou Xuan’s hands.