How good does it feel to show off? Or rather, how good does it feel to flex in front of a big shot?
Zeng Anmin held Hu Zi, a brilliant smile still plastered across his face. He finally understood the joy a top student felt when solving a high school Math Olympiad problem in front of a teacher.
Right now, his old man's expression was somewhat frozen. Let alone his old man, wasn't everyone in the entire courtyard—except for Qi Dachun, who had just taken a beating—completely dumbfounded?
Zeng Anmin lowered his fingers, blinked, and asked in an innocent tone, "Why aren't you saying anything?"
His voice broke the silence in the courtyard. Everyone whipped their heads around to look at him with a WHOOSH.
At that moment, the afterglow of the setting sun happened to brush past the tip of his nose. His chiseled profile and striking Dan Feng eyes radiated a high-spirited vigor unique to a young man.
His old man snapped back to reality. Placing one hand behind his back, his expression returned to its usual placidity. He cleared his throat, which seemed blocked by something, and said, "Ahem, to open the Purple Mansion at this age can indeed be considered quite talented.
"However, opening the Purple Mansion is merely the first step on the path of Confucian Dao cultivation. A towering building rises from the ground up; you must not be impetuous in the future. Cultivate patiently.
"You must understand that earnest Enlightenment of heaven and earth is the true foundation of the Confucian Dao.
"From now on, you may undergo Confucian Cultivation at home. If there is anything you don't understand, you can come find me in the study."
After saying that, his old man walked toward the study with quick, mincing steps that were noticeably faster than usual. "I suddenly remembered I have official business to attend to. I won't be having dinner."
With that, he stepped into the study.
BAM. He shut the door behind him.
"Tsk." Zeng Anmin lowered his head and teased Hu Zi. Then, he lazily lifted his eyelids, glancing at the tightly shut doors and windows of the study. "Then let's ignore Grandpa. Shall we eat first, Hu Zi?"
"Okay!!" Hu Zi seemed indifferent to everything else, but the moment Zeng Anmin mentioned the word "eat," his eyes suddenly burst with a brilliant light. "Okay, okay, hehe."
Drool was already leaking from his mouth. Zeng Anmin lifted the hem of Hu Zi's shirt to wipe his mouth. He shot another glance toward the study, twitched his lips, and muttered, "This whole suppressive parenting style is so annoying."
Inside the study, Zeng Shilin peered out through a crack in the window.
After Zeng Anmin took Hu Zi and Ms. Lin out of the courtyard to eat, the servants in the yard also left one after another. He waited a little longer, until the entire courtyard was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, Zeng Shilin released his white-knuckled grip.
"HAHAHAHAHA!!!!"
Extremely hearty laughter echoed throughout the entire study.
"That guy surnamed Qin! Does he have to compete with me in everything?"
He then thought, "So what if his daughter entered the Nurturing Realm in half a year? Hahaha! She'll be perfect as a wife for my son!"
Prince Jiang's Mansion was located in the southern part of Liangjiang Commandery. Just two turns away, not far from the mansion, lay the official road. It was also the place where Wang Lin, the Crown Prince of Prince Jiang's Mansion, had met his death.
At this time, although night had fallen, Prince Jiang's Mansion was brightly lit.
Inside the main hall, a robust and burly figure sat expressionlessly in the center seat. He appeared to be around thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old, his imposing physique tightly draped in a purple robe. His neck and wrists revealed a bronze complexion. His facial features were sharp and profound, highlighted by dark, icy eyes.
This man was none other than the current King Jiang. Without saying a word, he stared at a slightly hunchbacked old man sitting diagonally across from him.
"The Crown Prince indeed died by a Spiritual Artifact."
The hunchbacked old man's face was crisscrossed with deep wrinkles. Dressed in simple cotton clothes, he looked incredibly plain. If one didn't know better, they might mistake him for an ordinary peasant. However, a sharp glint would occasionally flash through his seemingly murky eyes, giving him an aura of unfathomable depth.
The old man was an advisor at Prince Jiang's Mansion named Qi Lang, though he preferred others to call him Mr. Qi.
Mr. Qi's voice was low and firm, carrying a hint of hoarseness. "I am all too familiar with the Spiritual Artifacts crafted by the Profound Array Department.
"Since he died by the same Spiritual Artifact as Ah Er, the killer must be a Martial Artist of at least the Ascended Grade.
"A single fatal strike, clean and efficient—this is enough to prove that the Black Cat Martial Artist is a habitual offender."
After saying this, he sat there in silence, his eyes cast downward in meditation. He was waiting for King Jiang to speak first.
A long time passed.
King Jiang finally raised his profound eyes, a dangerous light that could make one tremble involuntarily flickering within them. "In all of Liangjiang Commandery, the number of Martial Artists possessing Spiritual Artifacts from the Profound Array Department can be counted on one hand.
"As for those whose Spiritual Artifact is a short sword, there isn't a single one."
He glanced at the rice paper spread out on the table. Drawn on the paper was a jade-green short sword. The master wielding it was a mysterious figure wearing a black hood. This sketch had been drawn based on eyewitness descriptions.
"Then it will require you, Prince, to send someone with this painting to the Profound Array Department and ask for a clear answer," the old man said, slowly shaking his head, his gaze deepening. When he mentioned the words "Profound Array Department," he looked slightly distracted for a moment. "The standard Spiritual Artifacts of the Profound Array Department are all registered. It should be traceable."
Hearing this, King Jiang looked thoughtful. His fingertips tapped rhythmically against the tabletop on his right.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
The sound was highly rhythmic. A short while later, King Jiang looked up, revealing his slightly rugged face. His voice turned ruthless. "Heh, then go ask! I'd like to see who has such tremendous gall."
A thick murderous intent surfaced in his words. The entire main hall plunged into a deathly silence. Insects dared not chirp, and birds dared not sing.
The old man remained silent for a moment and didn't take the bait.
However, King Jiang clearly didn't intend to let him off. He slowly shifted his gaze onto him. "Mr. Qi, I've heard that the Profound Array Department in the capital has an Array called 'Asking the Heavens,' which can divine information based on a person's appearance and other details. I wonder if..."
He stopped halfway, but his meaning was already perfectly clear.
Hearing this, the old man spaced out for a moment before a bitter smile appeared on his face. "This method damages one's lifespan... Moreover, my cultivation is not deep. I might not be able to deduce anything."
King Jiang didn't even blink. He merely narrowed his eyes and continued to stare at him.
For a moment, an eerie atmosphere enveloped the main hall.
The old man sighed inwardly. Forcing a smile, he slowly stood up and bowed to King Jiang. "However, I can naturally understand the grief in your heart, Prince. How could I dare refuse?"
"Excellent!" King Jiang beamed with joy, clapping his hands in praise. "Meeting you, Mr. Qi, has been like a fish finding water!"
Before long, the main hall of the Prince's Mansion was filled with all sorts of materials. King Jiang dismissed all the servants. With one hand behind his back, he stood beside the old man, quietly observing everything.
Mr. Qi wore a solemn expression, holding a dark purple compass in his hand. He looked at the extremely complex patterns drawn on the ground in fresh blood.
"Heaven models Earth, Earth models Heaven; by the golden thread, grasp a sliver of insight."
The old man muttered the incantation, then suddenly snapped his eyes open. The compass in his hand abruptly began to spin.
Before long, a subtle ripple descended onto the patterns on the ground.
HUM.
With a resonant hum, the abstruse patterns on the ground, encircled by several stones, faintly flashed with an imperceptible light.
The old man immediately closed his eyes again. Perhaps images were flashing through his mind. Or perhaps some text. Outsiders had no way of knowing. King Jiang only saw that when the old man opened his eyes again, a trace of blood had already seeped from the corner of his mouth.
"Prince, I have fully grasped the identity of the Black Cat Martial Artist."