Chapter 392: Chapter 283: Arrogant Miss Li (Thanks to ‘O Lan Lan O’ for the league leader’s reward!)_3 Chapter 392: Chapter 283: Arrogant Miss Li (Thanks to ‘O Lan Lan O’ for the league leader’s reward!)_3 Then, just before the young master could change her expression, the sword, as if losing its spirit, drooped and fell into the lady’s purse.
Everyone: “…”
Li Xueyou’s face turned red.
She bowed her head, tightened the drawstring of her purse, wrapped the purse with a small handkerchief, and then hurriedly stuffed it into her sleeve. It still seed not secure enough, so she covered her sleeve with one hand.
At this mont, the only thought in the little girl’s heart was one of embarrassnt; she would never let this seemingly arrogant and good-for-nothing little fellow that liked to draw circles co out again…
By then, Li Xueyou had co to her senses and looked toward the courtyard door with a face full of apology, bowing deeply.
“Teacher, I’m sorry, I didn’t expect the letter to actually send it here. I’ve caused you trouble, Teacher. Did little Xue damage the library, I…”
Sima Duyi, now that Li Xueyou was no longer frowning, had already snapped out of it, continually watching the southern horizon.
At this mont, hearing her words, he turned around, and together with her, bowed respectfully to that gentleman in the library doorway who would never set foot outside until he had turned every page and, as could be foreseen, might never leave the library again.
The old man with white eyebrows waved his hand at them, without speaking.
He frowned at Sima Duyi, then turned around with his hands behind his back, and took a mont to gaze at the mountain peak inside Du You City, which was even higher than Linlu Mountain.
That mountain, today, was clad in purple robes.
The old man chuckled, liking the color purple… it seed they had a temper not to be trifled with.
Suddenly he turned and went back inside the library.
Sima Duyi straightened up, glanced at Li Xueyou who wanted to speak but hesitated, and shook his head.
Li Xue, looking at the now empty envelope, asked no further questions.
Sima Duyi’s eyes dropped, and abruptly a thin book with a purple cover appeared in front of him. He flipped through a few pages and snapped his fingers.
Bits of poetry lines and passages intermittently erged from the pages, flying toward the library, rging into the sea of characters under a specific constraint.
Around him, most students at Shuaixing Hall eyed him with envy.
A Confucian scholar reading, truly encapsulating ‘books housed in one’s chest,’ and an aura of Vast righteousness.
The scene before him, the ans of a high-level Confucian cultivator appearing almost like the Immortal’s, resembled the techniques Mr. Yan used for writing about maple leaves at the Taiching Fenglin Courtyard that Zhao Rong had witnessed before.
Zhao Rong glanced a few tis at the characters Sima Duyi sent into the library.
There were ordinary lines like ‘the cloud has its way without the heart of the mountain,’ and eye-catching poetry such as ‘Today’s people do not see the ancient moon, but today’s moon once shone on ancient people.’
The list went on.
Zhao Rong heard from Gui that the Confucian scholars individually plucking lines from books into their Heart Lake did not strictly categorize grades.
They simply sought an inspired and intuitive connection.
Sotis, the lines from the Falling Flower Grade poems are not necessarily better than those from the Ascending Grade; it all depends on whether one can perceive the way.
Soon after, Sima Duyi put away the lifebound artifact, said a few words of reminder to Li Xueyou, bade her farewell, and left amid the bows of the Shuaixing Hall students.
He had delivered two birthday gifts, one for each person.
…
A quarter of an hour later, the steward of the library registered all students from Shuaixing Hall.
They completed the procedure for entering the library.
Zhao Rong led the group of students back down the mountain.
That afternoon’s calligraphy class turned out to be quite lively.
“Who is that old teacher? Our Mountain Master?”
Zhao Rong looked toward Yu Huaijin by his side.
“It’s not the Mountain Master,” the latter shook his head.
“We all call him ‘Teacher.’ No one knows his actual surna or na. By the ti we, the newcors, arrived, he was already flipping through books in the library. Even the seniors from the previous session were just as unaware as us.”
Yu Huaijin looked back at the increasingly distant library.
“Unexpectedly, he’s a gentleman, but I’ve heard he never leaves the library. It’s common to see him in the first few floors. If you need help finding a book in the library, you can ask him; the Teacher can almost always help you find it.”
Zhao Rong nodded.
On the return trip to Mochi Academy, he suddenly looked back at the slim figure who was keeping pace beside Xiao Hongyu in the crowd.
He then recalled that Lifebound Flying Sword, which had appeared aggressive, unruly, demanding everything to make way for it.
From what had happened at the scene, this extraordinary-looking Flying Sword apparently did not belong to the reader nad ‘Sima Duyi.’
Not only was the temperant mismatched, but other clues also indicated as much.
Yet, it was unmistakably a wild and resolute Sword Cultivator’s sword, pure in its Sword Heart.
But now, it was quietly resting inside Li Xueyou’s tiny purse.
So whose sword was it?
The haughty expression of Miss Li from a mont before flashed through his mind again…
Zhao Rong withdrew his gaze, rolled up the newly borrowed scroll, placed it behind him, and strode forward.
He rembered asking Gui one day.
Was there anything, or anyone, who could make it unable to hand over its sword, that would make it lower the sword in its hand?
He recalled the Sword Spirit, which always acted proud and regretful around him for not having the chance to present a sword to the Daoist Ancestor and the Supre Sage, had fallen silent for a very long ti then.
It softly responded, there was.
But he had waited quietly for a long ti, and its voice never echoed in his Heart Lake again.
…
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