Ye Liuyun came and left, truly like the clouds that flow across the sky, leaving not a trace. The residents of Danzhou City had no idea that one of the Four Grandmasters, whom they often mentioned with great reverence, had once come to Danzhou to drink, fight, and sing.

Wu Zhu was slightly worried. Not many people in this world knew about his relationship with Miss, but Ye Liuyun was one of them, and completely unbefitting his status as a Grandmaster, he was known to be a blabbermouth.

Ye Liuyun's visit to Danzhou was too strange. He left after meeting him, and Wu Zhu didn't believe it at all.

Fan Xian, however, believed that Ye Liuyun was indeed just a simple traveler, and patted Wu Zhu on the shoulder, comforting him: "Who says that a master of masters can't travel?"

It was just a pure intuition.

His intuition was always accurate. He always felt that there was something wrong with his old man in Kyoto, the Supervisory Council, assassins, and the Second Madam, whose courage was more venomous than a tigress... So he believed that his father, Count Sinan, was not as simple as he appeared on the surface, at least much more powerful than Cao Yin, that bondservant.

But his line of thinking had completely gone astray.

He speculated that his cheap old man might be the illegitimate son of the former Emperor, Old Prince Cheng, because his grandmother was a wet nurse in Prince Cheng's mansion, and the old emperor had her take him back to raise. Now, Count Sinan, because he was heartbroken about his origins and hated that his half-brother was sitting on the dragon throne while he could only be a small count, was pretending to be weak and secretly colluding with the Supervisory Council and all reactionary forces that could be utilized, organizing a batch of underground forces,妄想 trying to take over all the property of His Majesty the current Emperor.

And himself? Because his mother was undoubtedly also a big shot, he had become a product of some kind of family-interest marriage, and his existence was of great importance to his father's rebellion.

When he told Wu Zhu his speculations, which he had made when he was bored, Wu Zhu, who had always remained unfazed even when Mount Tai collapsed, finally couldn't help but slam the kitchen knife into the chopping board, expressing a certain degree of respect for the young man's wild imagination.

It was precisely because of this that Wu Zhu decided not to take him away from Danzhou for the time being.

Since the mad young man himself wasn't worried about the future, still maintaining a shy, curious smile on his face, ready to throw himself into the fictional Sinan Earl's rebellion, and seemed to be completely unaware of the dangers that such nonsense might bring, what was the blind Wu Zhu afraid of?

Wu Zhu had never worried about his own life and death, only about Fan Xian. And once Fan Xian seemed extremely abnormally unworried, Wu Zhu would let him go – just like when Fan Xian started drinking at the age of five – Wu Zhu was only responsible for protecting Fan Xian's safety and would not actively offer too much advice.

From the bottom of their hearts, this master and servant, this teacher and disciple, were both lazy and daring characters – it wasn't that they didn't know how to scheme, but they felt that sometimes force was more powerful than scheming, so they subconsciously regarded other people's schemes as insignificant matters, let it come, so what.

The so-called bright moon over the great river, the so-called gentle breeze on the mountain ridge.

……

……

In fact, Fan Xian was not the bright moon, but a shy crescent moon – he was still afraid of death, because he didn't have Wu Zhu's unparalleled skills, but he knew that if he had Fei Jie from the Supervisory Council behind him and this blind servant beside him, then it wouldn't be so easy for him to die even if he wanted to.

After witnessing Uncle Wu Zhu's fight with Ye Liuyun, one of the Four Grandmasters, at the cliff's edge, he was deeply shocked. For the first time, he realized the aesthetic beauty of martial arts, like the beauty of tea ceremony and calligraphy. So he temporarily stopped plagiarizing *Dream of the Red Chamber* and devoted himself wholeheartedly to cultivation.

Wu Zhu himself didn't have any particularly brilliant swordplay or fist techniques, but he was very knowledgeable about how to kill a person, emphasizing speed, accuracy, directness, and ruthlessness. He once told Fan Xian: "Don't believe in the saying of curved lines and perfect circles, which can attack and defend. If you want to attack the opponent, then you must go in a straight line, with the fastest speed, take the shortest distance, and inflict the most irreversible damage on the opponent."

Fan Xian immediately thought of the day when Uncle Wu Zhu jumped directly off the cliff. He thought that this man had indeed taken the shortest distance, smiled wryly, and wondered how long it would take for him to reach that level.

One day, after a shredded radish lesson, Fan Xian waved his slightly sore right arm, looked at Wu Zhu with his back to him, and asked curiously, "According to what you said before, what level am I at now?"

"Level seven in True Qi, level three in control ability."

Fan Xian quickly calculated the result: "Averaging it out, that's level five, a little higher than level four, enough to get a graduation certificate." The young man was slightly proud, and his beautiful eyes showed a hint of pride.

Wu Zhu shook his head: "If you're lucky enough, you can kill a level seven character. If you're unlucky enough, then a level three petty thief can end your life."

Fan Xian smiled and sighed, thinking that this young uncle was really straightforward, but his luck seemed to have always been pretty good, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to run to this world after his death.

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After Ye Liuyun's visit, Fan Xian's life in Danzhou truly became peaceful. No more assassins came to cause trouble, and the Second Madam was said to have been seriously ill and become much more docile. Fan Ruoruo's letters from Kyoto still arrived once a month. Fan Xian stayed in this seaside town, eating tofu, copying small books, occasionally wearing colorful clothes to please the Old Madam, drinking in the grocery store, and shredding radishes to accompany his wine. The days were very leisurely.

One day, a mirage appeared on the sea. The residents of Danzhou Port all ran out to watch the spectacle. Although they were all people who lived by the sea, they were still very excited to see those illusory, fairyland-like islands on the sea.

Wu Zhu became strange. He closed the door of the grocery store, walked to the remote seaside, went up to the cliff alone, and quietly "looked" at the scene, as if he had remembered something that made him very unhappy.

The mirage didn't last long and soon dissipated, but he still quietly looked over there.

Looking over there through that black cloth, as if he wasn't blind.

Fan Xian climbed up the cliff, his bare upper body looking very well-proportioned, having shed his thin figure. He saw Wu Zhu sitting there quietly, not daring to disturb him, so he sat down with him, looking at the sky that was reflected into a fire-like color by the western sunset.

After a long time, Wu Zhu suddenly asked coldly, "How old are you this year?"

Fan Xian tied his dark hair behind his head and casually tied it up, revealing his beautiful face, which was finally beginning to show a hint of heroic spirit in its youthful beauty. He smiled and replied, "Sixteen."