Under the towering structure, hundreds of round lanterns emblazoned with the word “Dragon” shimmered brilliantly, their warm glow weaving together into a sea of light that encircled a long, scarlet dragon. The dragon twisted and turned without warning, its movements fluid and fierce as it tried to break free from the glowing ring. Lanterns and dragon chased one another in a dazzling contest of motion and color, filling the night with an air of jubilant grandeur.
Above, fireworks burst in unending waves—gold, red, and yellow—painting the night sky in cascading brilliance. The golden light from the explosions poured down, bathing the crowd and the tower alike in radiant splendor.
After a time, the guests drifted back to their tables, laughter following them like ripples on water. All those seated were merchants, not a single noble among them. Yet, in the warmth of revelry, any pretense of refinement quickly melted away. The elegant airs they had worn earlier vanished, replaced by hearty laughter, coarse jokes, and the rhythmic pounding of hands on tabletops.
“Is any Tom, Dick, or Harry just let onto the tenth floor now?”
The sudden voice, edged with irritation, sliced through the noise. Laughter froze mid-breath; the clatter of dishes ceased. Heads turned.
At a nearby table sat three young scholars, each dressed neatly, their expressions sharp with disdain.
The one who had spoken—a fair-skinned man with a long, narrow face—tilted his chin slightly as he sneered. “To think that such uncouth men would be allowed into a place like this. Seems the Yang-Seeking Tower has truly fallen from grace.”
To everyone’s surprise, the usually outspoken Song Zhenguo said nothing. Upon recognizing the speaker, his face stiffened, and he quietly lowered his head, sipping his wine in silence.
The rest of the group also bowed their heads in silence. As their chatter died down, the floor quickly fell into uneasy quiet. Even Chen Yunxi bit her lower lip, saying nothing. Among them, she had the highest status, yet even she dared not challenge the three before them. Their power was unmistakable.
“Isn’t this Miss Chen Yunxi? She’s truly a merchant’s daughter inside and out,” one of the young masters drawled, twirling a string of Buddha beads between his fingers. “Even the company she keeps are these uncouth ruffians. Your elder brother once spoke to me on your behalf, smiling as he offered to give you to me as a concubine. I was quite tempted back then. But now… it seems I made the right choice in turning him down.”
At those words, Chen Yunxi’s eyes darted toward Lu Sheng as if struck by lightning. She quickly lowered her head, her face and neck flushing scarlet. Her slender frame trembled faintly. Around the table, the other eight or nine companions remained frozen, not one daring to speak.
Lu Sheng merely sighed inwardly. His gaze shifted toward Song Zhenguo, whose fists were clenched so tight the veins on his neck bulged. Fury was written all over his face, yet he too could only endure it in silence.
“A bunch of cowards,” the thin-faced scholar sneered.
“Has your mother never taught you manners?” came a calm voice from Chen Yunxi’s side. “Or shall this Young Master show you what proper upbringing looks like?”
The thin-faced scholar, who had just raised his wine cup, froze mid-motion. He had no intention of wasting more time on these people—but the words hit like a slap. Slowly, his head turned, eyes narrowing as he glared in Chen Yunxi’s direction. The other two young masters, equally startled, followed his gaze in shock.
Song Zhenguo immediately reached out, gripping Lu Sheng’s arm in panic, his eyes pleading for restraint. Then, forcing a stiff smile, he rose slowly and clasped his hands toward the three scholars, ready to offer an apology.
But before he could speak, Lu Sheng stood up, calm and steady, a faint smile on his lips.167Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDjkkSuvWNP
“It’s true we were too loud just now—our fault entirely,” he said evenly. “But to hurl insults at a young lady who’s barely come of age… the three of you are nothing but scum.”
In Mountain-Edge City, “coming of age” marked the time for marriage—sixteen years old for women. Chen Yunxi had just reached that age, three years younger than Lu Sheng.
“You’ve got guts!” the thin-faced scholar shot to his feet, his expression darkening as he glared coldly at Lu Sheng. “To think that here, in Mountain-Edge City, there’s actually—”
“That’s enough, Su De,” a calm, composed voice interrupted.
It belonged to the third scholar—the only one who had yet to speak. At the sound of his voice, the other two immediately swallowed their anger, their fury giving way to smug, mocking smiles. It was clear this young man’s status far outstripped theirs.
“It’s just a trivial matter,” the handsome scholar said with quiet authority. “Let’s not blow it out of proportion. It’s getting late—we should be going.” His tone was smooth and unhurried, carrying the easy poise of someone accustomed to command.
“Fine… but only since Young Master Rong has spoken!” Su De snapped, shooting Lu Sheng a venomous glare before sitting down again.
Lu Sheng, meanwhile, remained composed, though his gaze sharpened. He had already intended to teach the trio a lesson with his fists. Even now, he could sense several hostile stares aimed his way from behind them. They were all of Strength Proficiency level—nothing that would trouble him. Dealing with them would only take a few extra moves.
There were distinctions even among those who had reached the Strength Proficiency realm. Someone at its pinnacle—like Uncle Zhao back home—could easily overpower two ordinary practitioners at the same level. It was much like how the same martial art, in different hands, could yield entirely different results.
Moreover, Lu Sheng was already an inner force expert. His Black Fury Qi cultivation had proven potent even against Demonic Ghosts. When turned against humans, its power would be nothing short of devastating.
Although he had never tested it, taking on three to five Strength Proficiency experts at once hardly seemed difficult. Even an Intent Proficiency expert, at best, was equivalent to three ordinary Strength Proficiency practitioners—far from enough to threaten him.
The three young masters departed one after another, and just like that, the tension dissolved. Song Zhenguo let out a long breath of relief.
Once they were gone, Chen Yunxi could no longer hold back her emotions. Eyes glistening with tears, she excused herself. Lu Sheng stepped forward, intending to see her off, but she declined gently and hurried away.
With the atmosphere spoiled, none of them felt like watching the dragon dance any longer. Song Zhenguo dismissed his female companion, then pulled Lu Sheng and Wang Ziquan along toward the lake.
Cypress Pine Lake lay tranquil beneath the night sky. Red lanterns swayed from the masts of pleasure boats gliding across the dark, rippling water.
Song Zhenguo, familiar with the place, led them aboard one of the larger boats. The boat mistress, still charming despite her age, greeted them with a smile.
“Young Master Song, long time no see. Jun’er’s been talking about you endlessly,” she said with a teasing lilt.
Lu Sheng noted inwardly that, despite her line of work, her speech carried not a trace of vulgarity.
“Is Jun’er free now?” Song Zhenguo asked with a grin as he stepped aboard.
“Naturally. She’s been waiting for Young Master Song’s visit,” the woman laughed lightly. “As for the other two Young Masters, if any lady catches your eye, just let this servant know.”
The three were then shown into a private chamber—elegantly furnished, softly lit, and rich with the faint scent of sandalwood.
After a short while, a line of more than ten women dressed in thin gauze entered the chamber. Each had a graceful figure and carried herself with the refined air of a noble young lady, though their charms were distinct in their own ways.
“Many blessings to the three Young Masters,” the women said in unison, bowing gracefully.
“Brothers, pick one each. Tonight’s on me,” Song Zhenguo said casually, slipping an arm around a latecomer who leaned close with a smile.
Wang Ziquan’s eyes nearly bulged from his head. His face flushed red with excitement as he struggled to decide which beauty to choose.
Lu Sheng, on the other hand, remained calm. Without much thought, he gestured for a quiet-looking girl to sit beside him.
Once the selections were made, steaming floral tea was brought in to lift the mood. A few more women entered—dressed in light, revealing silk—to play the zither and perform slow, graceful dances under the lantern glow.
“What happened today… it’s really…” Song Zhenguo began, his cheeks turning red as he recalled the scene at Yang-Seeking Tower. The incident still sat like a knot in his chest.
“Brother Song, with such fine scenery and such lovely company, why bring up gloomy matters? Come, drink!” Wang Ziquan exclaimed, his voice loud with laughter. His hands wandered eagerly over the woman beside him, his impatience plain for all to see.
The ladies giggled, teasing and coaxing, their laughter filling the room. Even Lu Sheng offered a few words of comfort, and soon Song Zhenguo’s mood began to ease.
“If I wasn’t mistaken,” Song Zhenguo said after a long sip of wine, “one of those three who mocked us today was Wang Shunyong—the son of Mountain-Edge City’s Deputy Army Superintendent. The others are nothing much, but that one’s not to be trifled with…”
“And that Young Master Rong,” Wang Ziquan added with a frown. “His background’s probably even more powerful.”
Lu Sheng only shook his head in silence. After seeing more of the world, titles like “Young Master” had long lost their weight in his eyes.
“Why be such wet blankets? Drink! Drink till we drop!” Wang Ziquan shouted, raising his cup high.
Song Zhenguo laughed, finally letting go of his frustration, and the two began drinking heartily as the night deepened over the lake.
To be frank, Lu Sheng never cared much for such gatherings. Still, seeing Song Zhenguo’s spirits so low, he chose to stay and drink with him until late into the night.
The pleasure boat was a refined establishment—offering wine and art, not flesh. By the time the three of them disembarked, the night had deepened into the Chou hour—somewhere between two and three in the morning.
After parting ways with the others, Lu Sheng walked alone, his thoughts heavy. He couldn’t help but reflect on how little respect merchants held in this world. Even the likes of Song Zhenguo and Chen Yunxi, born to wealth and privilege, dared not utter a single word of defiance against the sons of officials.
Though he had drunk plenty, his mind remained clear, his steps steady. There wasn’t the slightest hint of drowsiness. He left Cypress Pine Lake behind and made his way home.
He tried to hail a carriage several times along the street, but none stopped for him. It was too late; most coachmen had long retired for the night. With no other choice, he quickened his pace and continued on foot.
The streets were cold and empty at this hour. Only a few staggering drunkards remained, muttering nonsense as they stumbled along.
Both sides of the road were lined with darkened houses. Only the homes of larger families still glowed faintly, their red lanterns swaying in the wind like distant embers. The night breeze cut through his robes, cool and biting.
Lu Sheng pulled his collar tighter and walked faster. Halfway home, his hand brushed his waist—and froze.
His pouch was gone.
He searched himself quickly, patting down his sleeves and belt, but the pouch was nowhere to be found.
“It must’ve fallen on the boat,” he muttered to himself, realizing that inside were both Duanmu Wan’s note and the key to his room. He couldn’t afford to lose them.
Without hesitation, he turned around and retraced his steps toward Cypress Pine Lake.
The journey back was swift and silent. By the time he arrived, most of the pleasure boats had already ended their business for the night. The colored lanterns were taken down, leaving the lakeside bare and quiet—its reflection on the still waters pale and forlorn.
Lu Sheng retraced his steps, moving swiftly through the silent streets until the outline of the pleasure boat came into view.
The vessel was docked by the pier, utterly still. No laughter, no music—only the faint sway of yellow lanterns trembling in the night breeze. The deck was empty, its shadows long and cold.
They must have closed for the night. The ladies have probably gone to rest—it should be cleaning time by now, he thought as he stepped onto the deck.
“Is anybody there?” Lu Sheng called out twice, his voice echoing softly across the water. He advanced further along the deck, the sound of his footsteps faint against the wooden floor.
The boat was deserted. The deck had been scrubbed spotless, and the old green-painted planks glimmered under the dim lantern light, reflecting like ripples of dull jade.
Pushing open the entrance door, Lu Sheng found himself inside a narrow corridor that led toward the central hall. Rows of chambers lined both sides—fifteen rooms in total, spread across the boat’s three levels.
A small lantern hung outside each door, its faint red glow seeping into the hallway. The dim light painted the interior with a strange, cold beauty, the kind that made silence feel heavier.
“Anybody there?” he called again, scanning the hall. But not a single sound answered him.
He frowned. I don’t remember seeing this many red lanterns earlier…
A quiet unease stirred within him. The corridor was bathed in red, the lantern light flickering across every surface until it seemed the entire boat was submerged in a scarlet sea—motionless, empty, and eerily still.
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