Chapter Sixty-Two: Meeting Without Having Known Each Other Before

Old Jiang looked at Qin Yi, whose gaze was complicated, and a wry smile played about his lips as he asked teasingly, “Boy, did my sword just now scare the wits out of you?”

“No,” Qin Yi answered, his eyes still filled with conflicting emotions, but his tone remained firm. Then, with a laugh, he added loudly, “Still, calling you Grandpa Jiang doesn’t seem like a bad deal.”

Old Jiang was momentarily stunned, silent for a long while. At last, he turned to Jiang Yao, who stood beside Qin Yi, and asked with utmost seriousness, “Girl, did you learn anything?”

Jiang Yao’s eyes sparkled, and she replied sincerely, “I would never let down the old master’s painstaking intentions.”

Old Jiang burst out laughing, but said nothing further. He knew that such things could not easily be put into words, nor clearly explained—if they could, then the sages of all ages in Shenzhou would not have struggled to comprehend the Way and pursue immortality. He himself was no exception.

“The Way.”

“Old master, I too wish to learn swordsmanship from you,” Zhang Chen suddenly spoke up from the side. Though he did not practice the sword, even a blind man could see Old Jiang’s prowess.

“I won’t teach you swordsmanship,” Old Jiang replied bluntly, leaving Zhang Chen looking crestfallen. Seeing this, Old Jiang’s lips curled with satisfaction as he continued, “But I once knew a master of the talismanic arts, a man whose skills truly reached heaven and earth. I was on good terms with him and picked up a thing or two. When I’m in a good mood, perhaps I can point you in the right direction.”

Zhang Chen’s eyes lit up at once. Though Old Jiang was a swordsman, an expert was an expert—any guidance from such a figure, regardless of discipline, was invaluable.

“Old master, that sword of yours is truly beyond compare!” Chen Yuxuan exclaimed sincerely. Only a few days earlier, he had broken through in his own sword cultivation, making great strides. He had thought himself quite far along the path of the sword, but seeing Old Jiang’s technique today made him realize how narrow his own vision had been.

Old Jiang sneered, “The Three Strikes of Taiyi—if your ancestor wielded them, I might be impressed. But coming from you juniors, I find it rather ordinary.”

Chen Yuxuan smiled sheepishly, “We have indeed shamed our forebears.”

“I never imagined there was still such talent among our people. Even the nine elders of Mount Qi would surely pale in comparison to you, sir. It is truly a blessing for our kind,” Jiang Fengnian said as he approached, his voice heartfelt. As one of the top cultivators among humanity, he well understood the significance of a powerful practitioner for his people.

Old Jiang snorted, “To tell you the truth, even if all nine swordmasters of Mount Qi joined forces, they’d still be leagues beneath me. So as for you, challenging me is far too ambitious.”

Qin Yi’s lips twitched at those words. He thought to himself, You barely managed to win and now you’re this arrogant? Claiming that even the nine revered swordmasters together are no match for you—aren’t you getting carried away?

“Of course,” Jiang Fengnian replied with a gentle smile, as if basking in the spring breeze. Then, as if determined to get to the bottom of things, he fixed his eyes on Old Jiang and asked seriously, “But may I ask why you would injure someone without cause?”

At this, Old Jiang’s expression finally changed. His tone grew grim and cold. “Boy, do you think I wouldn’t dare to end you with a single stroke? I do what I wish—do I need your permission? I act as I please. What business is it of yours?”

The moment those words fell, a profound silence descended.

Jiang Fengnian’s expression remained unchanged, his gaze still locked on Old Jiang.

After a long while, Old Jiang could only shake his head in resignation. “You know I won’t trouble you. I imagine even if you thought I would, you’d still act the same. Pointless scholarly pride.” He went on, “But I’ll say it again—I do what I want. If you wish to stop me, you’re welcome to try. I won’t kill you, but if you want to meddle in my affairs, you’ll need the strength to back it up.”

Jiang Fengnian asked earnestly, “Isn’t this a bit too willful, sir?”

Old Jiang’s lips curled in disdain. “And what right have you to say that to me?”

Jiang Fengnian felt as if a thousand arrows pierced his heart. He shuddered and, after a long moment, hung his head in shame. “Your lesson is just, sir. I was foolish.”

When their dialogue ended, a heavy silence again fell upon the group.

“Sir, Mister Jiang, if I may be so bold, both of you will soon arrive in the Southern Sea. If you are willing to do me the honor, you are most welcome to visit my humble home. I promise you fine food and wine,” He Yongde, the host of today’s many events, finally spoke up.

At the mention of good food and drink, Old Jiang’s eyes lit up, but he glanced at Jiang Yao and said, “I’d rather follow this girl.”

“Qin Yi,” He Yongde said with a smile, looking at Qin Yi with a knowing glance.

Qin Yi understood, and said to Jiang Yao, “We haven’t finished paying our New Year respects.”

“Mhm,” Jiang Yao replied softly.

Old Jiang squinted at Qin Yi, but said nothing.

Jiang Fengnian turned to He Yongde, a fellow scholar, and smiled, “So it’s Brother He. The Grand Priest often spoke of you, and I’m honored to finally meet you.”

He Yongde smiled self-deprecatingly. “I never imagined Mister Jiang had even heard of me. I am deeply humbled…” He paused, gazing into the distance as if lost in memories of years past. After a while, he spoke again, “Who would have thought that gentleman would become the present Sage? I have never forgotten the gift of a book from Master Yao. Please, Mister Jiang, convey my gratitude to the Dao Palace.”

“It was just a message; there’s no need for such formality, Brother He,” Jiang Fengnian replied with a wave of his hand, then smiled again. “But it seems your household will have an extra mouth to feed tonight. I hope you won’t mind.”

He Yongde laughed heartily, “It is truly my honor to have you as a guest, sir!”

All the while, Old Jiang had been listening to their polite scholarly exchanges, pretending to shudder with goosebumps before scoffing, “Such pretentiousness among scholars.”

He Yongde and Jiang Fengnian could only smile wryly and let it pass.

…

The He household was destined to be sleepless that night. As soon as the group returned, news of their triumphant return spread throughout the family. The steward, Butler Ge, was about to organize an all-night banquet in celebration. Fortunately, He Yongde intervened in time, arranging only a simple family dinner. Otherwise, the entire city of Beihai would have been kept awake by the festivities.

After the meal, the brothers Chen Yuxuan and Chen Yulei returned to their own home, reasoning that it was best to be with their family after such an eventful night.

Jiang Fengnian, claiming he had to set out early the next day, retired soon after.

Old Jiang took a jug of purple rice wine for himself and disappeared to parts unknown.

He Yongde busied himself with various family matters.

In a fine room of the He residence, Qin Yi sat by the window, hands cradling a copy of the Dao Canon he’d requested from He Yongde. In the moonlight streaming through the window, he opened the book but did not turn a single page, simply staring at the moon in a daze. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Do you think that old man is really as formidable as he claims?”

Jiang Yao lay half-reclined on the bed, stroking the soft white fur of Little White, her gaze never lifting. “At the very least, he’s a master of the Dao and a sword grandmaster.”

Qin Yi put down the Dao Canon and turned, his tone doubtful. “I know that. Otherwise, why would he be the one to teach you swordsmanship? All nine elders of Mount Qi wanted to teach you, remember? But do you really think it’s necessary for him to defeat the only cultivator in the world who doesn’t fight, Lord Nan Shen, and then claim that even the nine elders together can’t compare?”

All the world knew that Lord Nan Shen attained enlightenment at a young age, yet never fought—a true eccentric.

Jiang Yao shook her head, smiling. “Stop tormenting yourself. As long as Grandpa Jiang means us no harm, it’s fine to have him with us.”

Qin Yi fell silent, no longer looking at the Dao Canon in his hands, his gaze lost in the moonlight outside the window.