Chapter Seventy-Three: Worlds Apart Inside and Out

“Elder, you drink without paying, but there’s no such logic in this world!”
Fortunately, at that moment Jiang Fengnian arrived, walking up to the wine table where Old Jiang was half-reclined, looking down at him with a smile. The contrast between the two was truly as vast as heaven and earth.
Zhang Chen’s father observed Jiang Fengnian, who seemed more like a celestial being than a mortal; even if he wasn’t a deity, he must be a man of virtue. He certainly cut a finer figure than the old man in blue, wearing a straw hat and looking every bit the rustic. Instantly, respect welled up in his heart, and both husband and wife broke into smiles.
Old Jiang, however, couldn’t stand Jiang Fengnian’s manner. With a sneer curling at the corner of his mouth, he asked, “Do you have any money?”
Jiang Fengnian smiled, reached to his waist, and found nothing. After searching left and right for a while, he smiled awkwardly, “I didn’t bring any either.”
Old Jiang rolled his eyes dramatically at this.
Jiang Fengnian was helpless; he had left in such haste that he hadn’t thought to bring what, to him, were trivial worldly goods.
“No matter, no matter! Today’s drinks are on old Zhang,” Zhang Chen’s father said, stepping forward with two jugs of wine, smiling openly. His attitude toward Jiang Fengnian and Old Jiang was as different as night and day.
Old Jiang looked at Zhang Chen’s father with disdain. “He’s just a bookworm, while I am a master who can soar and vanish at will.”
Bang!
Zhang Chen’s father, clearly stirred by this remark, set the two wine jars heavily on the table. Old Jiang was immediately delighted, closing his eyes to stroke his snowy beard, radiant with joy. Meanwhile, Zhang Chen’s father hurriedly wiped his hands on his robe to clean off spilled wine, then bowed respectfully to Jiang Fengnian, saying, “I hadn’t expected the gentleman to be truly learned. Old Zhang’s address was not mistaken!”
Hearing this, Old Jiang opened his eyes, his face twitching as he poured himself a bowl of wine and drank alone, shaking his head with a sigh, “The world is going downhill, downhill!”
At that, even the wine lost its savor for the old man in the straw hat.
Clip-clop...
Just then, He Anjian and Old Ma arrived. Old Ma immediately ran over to drink with Old Jiang, and the two found a kindred spirit in each other, happily sharing their wine.
He Anjian, however, did not enter the wine shop, but stood outside, gazing at He Wanting inside, seated with Qin Tian. He looked at his daughter, who had once married a common man against the wishes of her entire family, whose marriage had caused her brother—the family’s prodigious heir—to cripple his own cultivation. He looked at the daughter who, though she visited South Sea He’s house every year, he had never met face-to-face. He looked at the daughter he had not seen in decades.
He Anjian simply stood there, not moving a step, his expression unchanged.

He Wanting was much the same, staring at her father whom she had not seen in decades, stunned.
Qin Tian ignored the scene, drinking on his own.
The others paid no mind to the father and daughter, each busy with their own affairs.
“Father...”
At last, He Wanting burst into tears and called out the word she hadn’t spoken in decades, rising from her chair and running out to He Anjian. Hearing that call after so many years, He Anjian’s body trembled as if struck by lightning, his eyes growing moist. He opened his arms and embraced He Wanting as she rushed into him, calling out after so long, “Ting’er.”
Father and daughter held each other tightly outside the wine shop, unable to let go—they had waited for this day for decades.
After a long time, He Anjian finally released his embrace, looking at his daughter whose eyes were still blurred with tears. The old man, always stern and composed, now gently asked his only daughter, “Ting’er, have you been well?”
He Wanting nodded through her tears, mumbling, “Father, I’m well.” Then she looked up curiously, “My elder brother...?”
She knew that if her father had no one trustworthy at home, he would never have left the North Sea City unattended. Clearly, He Yongning wasn’t up to that level in her father’s eyes. And for her father to come and see her of his own accord today—she was well aware of his stubbornness. Her brother’s ruined cultivation was all because of her, turning the family’s prodigy into a frail scholar. Though it was for her pursuit of love, and she was not truly at fault, her brother had willingly sacrificed himself, and the family’s prodigy became a scholar.
But how can a family’s rights and wrongs ever be so clear…
He Anjian smiled, “Your brother is as he was before.”
“Ah...”
Although she had guessed as much, to hear it confirmed by her father brought tears of joy. She never regretted upsetting her father by her choice, but whenever she thought of how her caring brother had changed, her heart ached to the marrow. Every year she returned home, her brother, though scorned by everyone else, would still greet her with a genuine smile. Yet even when seeing that real smile, guilt gnawed at her, and time had only intensified it.
Countless nights she dreamed of that smiling face, countless nights she lay awake.
Clang!
Qin Tian, hearing this, poured himself a bowl of wine, drained it in one gulp, and slammed the bowl heavily on the table, echoing through the shop. Without turning, he murmured with a smile, “Brother Yongde has returned to his peak?”
He Anjian heard Qin Tian’s mutter and wanted to say something, but He Wanting clung to his arm and stopped him, and after so many years apart, he could not resist his daughter. He fell silent, inwardly growing even more contemptuous toward the useless man.

Father and daughter, after so long, finally shared a quiet drink together in the wine shop.
They were not alone; Old Jiang and his companions drank merrily, even Zhang Chen’s parents joined in, unable to refuse Zhang Chen’s father’s hospitality toward Jiang Fengnian.
Only Qin Tian remained solitary, drinking quietly, appearing somewhat lonely yet inwardly content.
Outside the wine shop, two groups faced off; inside, all drank in high spirits.
Inside and outside, two different worlds.
…
Qin Yi and his two companions arrived in front of the group at the end of Chaoyang Street, recognizing many familiar faces. He approached Old Li, the fort master, and asked, “Old Li, how’s the fort? Any casualties?”
Behind him, the people of Fish-Dragon Fort, seeing Qin Yi and his companions arrive, were reinvigorated—especially when they saw Jiang Yao in her flowing white robes. They felt that even if they died defending their home today, to fight alongside such an otherworldly figure was no cause for regret.
Old Li’s heart finally settled as Qin Yi and his companions arrived. With a smile forced onto his weathered face, he replied, “So far, none. When the two forts attacked, we quickly hid everyone, while a few of us came out to face them. They seemed unwilling to start a fight immediately, so we’ve been in a standoff. Thank goodness you’re here.” Suddenly, as if remembering something, he asked Qin Yi anxiously, “By the way, Old Ma went out to tend the horses today and hasn’t returned. Have you seen him?”
The three were silent at that.
Old Li seemed to guess the truth, his voice full of sorrow, “Old Ma, oh Old Ma.”
As the saying goes, ‘Distant relatives are not as good as close neighbors.’ Fish-Dragon Fort had few people, all living together for so long; it was impossible not to feel attachment. Old Ma was the most special among them—no kin, living alone with only his horses. Everyone shared the thought that when Old Ma passed, all would hold his funeral together; everyone knew that day would come, but they hadn’t expected it to arrive at such a critical moment.
On the side of the Yan and Mao family forts, seeing Qin Yi and his companions arrive on flying artifacts—even if not as divine as Jiang Fengnian—they realized the three were at least at the Transformation stage. Their leaders were two men: one a rough fellow, resembling a villager accustomed to hard labor, clad in black iron armor; the other an old man as aged as Old Li, white-haired and hunched, his wrinkled face weathered, leaning on a black cane as if he would collapse without it.
Just then, a young man beside the white-haired elder stepped forward and whispered something in his ear.
When he finished, the elder’s gaze toward Qin Yi and his companions grew complex—though more than anything, it was filled with hatred.