After the duel ended—
Li Zhexian met with Xue Qinghe, and then with Dugu Bo and Dugu Yan, who had just returned from hunting Spirit Rings.
Xue Qinghe invited him to meet again tomorrow morning at Lotus Lake.
Dugu Yan had brought back some delicious mountain delicacies from the Star Dou Forest and invited him to try them in the afternoon.
As for the Ye Clan...
Li Zhexian had no fondness for Ye matriarch's controlling nature.
But Ye Lingling had invited him to the same noodle shop tomorrow night.
When the girl's cool blue eyes looked his way, the rejection that had reached Li Zhexian's lips ultimately went unspoken.
...
The next day.
The weather was dim and carried a slight chill.
Li Zhexian arrived as promised at Lotus Lake, where he stayed with Xue Qinghe until noon.
When they parted, he left with a beautifully crafted oil-paper umbrella in hand.
At the same time—
Within a courtyard in Heaven Dou City—
"Get out!"
"All of you, get out!"
"Useless trash!"
Zhao Wuji roared at the doctors, hurling abuse at them.
After sending away the sixth group of helpless physicians—
He clenched his teeth, trembling as he looked toward the bed.
There lay Ma Hongjun—unconscious, mutilated, and broken.
"Ruined..."
"Ruined..."
"His whole life... ruined…"
At his side, Qin Ming's expression was dark. He said softly:
"Teacher Zhao…"
"I've already sent word to Suotuo City."
"The Dean and the others... should be arriving soon."
Zhao Wuji closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his eyes were bloodshot and terrifying, but his voice was unnaturally calm.
"Qin Ming. Who is Sword Wine?"
Qin Ming's face froze.
"Teacher…"
"Don't tell me you don't know!" Zhao Wuji cut him off with a growl.
"You're Heaven Dou Imperial Academy's youngest Heaven Dou-Level teacher!"
"With your connections, don't tell me you can't uncover a single Sword Wine's identity!"
His voice grew low and grave:
"Qin Ming…"
"If you still remember the bond we once shared as master and disciple…"
"If you still remember you're a graduate of Shrek Academy…"
"Then tell me."
Qin Ming's expression twisted with inner conflict—
But in the end, it turned into a long, weary sigh.
"I... do know…"
...
"It looks like it's going to rain," someone murmured.
Dark clouds rolled across the sky, blotting out the sun. The air turned heavy—rain imminent.
On a small arched bridge, Ye Lingling stood silently, holding two umbrellas, gazing out at the misty, rain-blurred lake.
When she saw the familiar white-robed figure in the distance—
Her delicate, cool features remained calm, but a subtle shimmer passed through her blue eyes.
"Let's go."
"Same noodle shop as before?"
"Mm. I want to hear how that storyteller butchers my image."
Ye Lingling snuck a glance at Li Zhexian.
This guy talked about "butchering," but the corner of his lips curled so hard he couldn't even suppress the smile.
"Aiyo, young lady, back again? That's your third bowl today!"
"Hmm?"
At the stall owner's words—
Li Zhexian lifted his gaze toward Ye Lingling.
Though she wore a cold expression, the slender hand hidden in her sleeve was tightly clenched.
She had actually come by twice earlier in the day—
All to practice for this moment with Li Zhexian after her clumsy showing last time.
"One bowl of hot soup noodles, a side dish, two cloves of garlic…"
"For him and I—"
"Wait a minute." Li Zhexian's gaze shifted from the storyteller to Ye Lingling's beautiful little face. "Ye Lingling, you don't have to cater to me."
Ye Lingling blinked her blue eyes.
Li Zhexian reached over and moved aside the vinegar and oil between them, then said seriously:
"I don't know exactly what your mother said to you."
"But you really don't have to work so hard to please me."
"You are…"
He paused here.
Brows furrowed, he rummaged his mind for the right words—but found none of the comforting phrases one uses to console someone else.
"You've seen me comprehend sword arts, brew wine, and hit everything right on the mark…"
"But talking people through their problems? Ugh, this is hard."
Ye Lingling leaned her cheek against her palm, watching his awkward expression.
A soft smile crept onto her cool, lovely face.
How amusing.
Just yesterday, right before the Spirit Arena match, this man was still debating the sweetness of plum wine.
Yet now, trying to comfort her, he looked utterly miserable.
...
Outside the little noodle stall's tarp—
A light drizzle began to fall.
Two birds huddled on the pole that held up the shop's banner—
One gently held a leaf in its beak, trying to shield the other from the rain.
Ye Lingling quietly asked:
"Li Zhexian… are you worried about me?"
"Hmm?"
Li Zhexian, still wrestling with the dilemma of emotional advice, looked up in confusion.
Ye Lingling pointed toward the birds.
"Like them."
"Come on. That's corny as hell."
Li Zhexian finally smiled.
Letting out a breath, he muttered:
"They're a pair of lovebirds."
"You and I... mm, we're just friends."
"I don't know how to say those comforting things."
"I just want you to know you don't have to cater to anyone. Not even your mother."
He swallowed a bite of noodles and looked at Ye Lingling.
"For example—"
"You're not allowed to order the same thing as me today."
"Eat what you like."
"Whatever you want, just go for it."
"...Okay."
Ye Lingling lowered her head and quietly twisted the edge of her sleeve.
Li Zhexian didn't push.
He kept eating, listening to the storyteller across the rain-soaked street ramble on in a booming voice—
Occasionally cheering in support with a loud "good!"
Ye Lingling looked up at him several times, lips parting, but hesitated to speak.
"Still haven't decided what to eat?"
Li Zhexian looked helplessly at his nearly empty bowl.
"I'm almost finished already."
Ye Lingling murmured in a small, almost aggrieved voice:
"But… but I want hot soup noodles."
"You said I can't have them…"
As they ate, the storyteller hit a humorous note in his tale—
"Now, my good audience—guess what?"
"This humble old man believes—Sir Sword Wine knows who I am!"
The crowd erupted into laughter.
"Pah! You think you're somebody?"
"Even the Ye Clan, Poison Douluo, and the Crown Prince went to cheer for Sword Wine! You? You're just a rambling old geezer!"
The storyteller slammed the table.
"Wrong!"
"Last night the Spirit Arena was packed to the rafters! And there I was, brush racing across paper—"
"Suddenly, a gold coin split the air! It snapped my brush in half and dropped straight into my robe!"
"I looked up, and you know what I saw?"
The listeners leaned forward, eager.
"What?"
The storyteller lowered his voice dramatically:
"A white-robed back vanishing down the corridor. Who else could it be but the man who bested that scruffy fire chicken—Sir Sword Wine himself!!"
The tale was so absurd—
The crowd booed and laughed, scattering.
"Hell, I even loosened my belt for that one!"
"And that's your ending?!"
...
"Finished eating?"
Li Zhexian and Ye Lingling stood up to leave.
As they reached the door, Li Zhexian suddenly remembered something.
He flicked a finger, and another gold coin spun through the air, landing on the storyteller's table.
The rain began to fall harder.
The storyteller had planned to head home early today—
His grandson wanted sesame cakes from a shop across the street.
He couldn't forget.
Muttering to himself, he suddenly spotted the shiny gold coin on his table—
And his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
...
After parting with Ye Lingling—
Li Zhexian walked home under the umbrella.
The rain was relentless.
A white curtain of water filled the world. Raindrops rolled in streams off the edge of his umbrella.
When he returned to his little courtyard, he pushed open the gate—
And just as he was about to close it—
His gaze slipped through the narrowing gap, lifting toward the low, overcast sky.
"A storm's coming…"
At midnight, the rain poured down relentlessly, as if the entire world were being turned upside down.
Outside the gate to Li Zhexian's courtyard—
A tall, burly figure in a straw raincoat stood silently beneath the downpour—
And the killing intent he brought was colder than the storm itself.