Long-Buried Secrets

On Lake Jinming, it was a rare and poetic sight to behold. Small boats trailed behind in succession, keeping a respectful distance of three zhang from the painted pleasure boat, unwilling to disturb the tranquil beauty of the moment. By tomorrow, the scholars’ critiques and romantic tales in the teahouses would be nothing short of this—tales of a talented scholar from the academy whose brilliance dazzled all, and of the beauty Feishuang, who stepped forward to question the sincerity of the scholar's heart. Even compared to the Jiangnan region of the Jin State, this scene lacked nothing in elegance.

Yet, Song Linjie stood by, spoiling the poetic mood: "This must be what Zhang Ling calls 'falling for beauty at first sight.' Hey, Wu Zhi, how does this Miss Xie compare to your sister?"

Wu Zhi, ready to retort, quickly bit his tongue and changed his tune: "Naturally, my sister is a cut above. With her robes fluttering in the wind, this Miss Xie lacks martial arts training and surely couldn't dance with such grace; she loses points there."

The two looked back, and as expected, the unexpected occurred: Ming Yue, the deputy hall master of the Mingtang, was indeed behind them. Her smile was serene, though she did not look at them. As she cast her gaze around, she spotted the other of the two famed beauties of Jinyu City. With hundreds of boats gathered for the excursion and both beauties present, it was truly a feast for the eyes—a day begun in high spirits and sure to end in satisfaction.

Cao Minghua also turned to look at this ethereal woman. She had chosen to grace this very pleasure boat, and he could not help but remark that there was not a single mediocre person aboard.

On the boat, Zhang Ling also raised his eyes, though his gaze went a bit higher. He saw a man holding a zither standing on the roof of the cabin. The man was remarkably handsome, with a delicate, almost feminine grace—the kind that could easily captivate both men and women. Seeing Zhang Ling look his way, the man nodded with a smile. This was Qin Yi, whom they had met at the Hundred Flowers Villa.

Seeing that the situation there was settled, Zhang Ling gathered his energy and leaped back, asking, "Why are you here?"

Qin Yi said softly, "Passing through. We came to tell you both something. Zhang Ling, Wu Zhi, come with us. Let’s talk outside."

Both Zhang Ling and Wu Zhi possessed formidable light-body skills, and the other two were grandmaster-level figures. They drifted across the water behind the hundred boats. Some onlookers vaguely caught sight of them and wanted to call out to their companions, but by the time they turned back, the four had already reached the shore.

Finding a teahouse, they sat down. Qin Yi said, "We intend to go north to find the Hall Master."

Wu Zhi turned his head away, saying sullenly, "That man has nothing to do with me. Why bring him up?"

Ming Yue sighed: "I know you hate your father because of what happened to your mother, but there is a hidden truth behind it."

Wu Zhi could not stop his tears, shouting, "What hidden truth could justify him watching his own wife die without lifting a finger?"

The two had already cast a sound-dampening technique; onlookers at other tables only found it strange to see a man weeping bitterly without a single sound emerging.

Ming Yue continued: "I cannot tell you the reasons just yet. As for you, Zhang Ling, you will understand once you see King Chen."

Qin Yi stood up, patted Wu Zhi on the shoulder, and urged: "Stop crying and temper your temperament. If you insist on acting on impulse, we will tell you nothing. Your actions might even lead to the deaths of more people, including the entire Chengdao Academy!"

The two juniors were shocked. The academy had two grandmasters protecting it; who could possibly have such power?

Zhang Ling paused and asked, "Does this also have something to do with the extermination of the Zong family?"

Qin Yi nodded: "Not just the Zong family. The entire upheaval in the martial world is connected to this, and perhaps even to the plague in Lupi Valley years ago."

Zhang Ling did not press further. The conversation ended there; if they were not saying more, it was surely something beyond his current capabilities.

Ming Yue also stood up, her tone indifferent: "A word of warning, Zhang Ling: Zhang Jingqian went to the Wu State months ago. Watch yourself. The talk is over; we should be going."

Watching them walk away, Zhang Ling looked at Wu Zhi, who had yet to recover from his sorrow, and said seriously, "I have something to tell you, too."

Wu Zhi looked up, and Zhang Ling suddenly smiled: "You need to pay for the tea."

With that, Zhang Ling took off at high speed. Having exchanged light-body techniques just yesterday, Wu Zhi watched Zhang Ling’s movements, which already carried a hint of soaring momentum. He sighed, "Running away over a few copper coins? What kind of person is he!"

...

A few days later, the pleasure boat poetry gathering came to an end, and the buzz about the two beauties gradually faded. Everyone returned to their books, their training, and their farming—everyone except Zhang Ling, who was working especially hard.

Every extra drop of sweat today meant a better chance of survival when visiting the Prime Minister's residence.

As Chen Ke'er had said, cultivation must not be disturbed by external distractions. By now, the layout of the Prime Minister's residence and the methods to mask his aura were ready. He had also learned from Ren Pingsheng that the middle-aged man at the poetry gathering had indeed come from the residence. The terrifying part was that no one at the academy had been able to discern that man's cultivation level—he was either an ordinary person or someone using exotic methods to conceal his aura. Such ability undoubtedly signaled a First-Rank Grandmaster. Fortunately, he now knew the man's appearance and could avoid him during the banquet. With no distractions, his cultivation progressed rapidly. In just a few days, he was writing the hundred-character combinations with natural fluidity and could control three flying needles with lethal precision.

At the entrance of the courtyard, a woman suddenly visited. Zhang Ling was surprised: "Why are you here?"

The woman was Meng Qian, a shamaness of the Southern Border’s Witch Tribe. Zhang Jingqian had provided the medicinal gu, but she was the one who had provided the gu poison.

Meng Qian asked, "Where is your medicinal gu?"

Zhang Ling’s mind raced, searching for a perfect excuse. Seeing his hesitation, she pressed, "Then show me that bottle of gu poison?"

Zhang Ling remained silent. Meng Qian had to speak plainly: "Medicinal gu are interconnected. If one enters someone else’s body, the nearby gu will sense it. These past few days, my gu haven't sensed your presence. Tell me, did you use it to kill someone?"

Seeing he could not hide it, Zhang Ling was about to run when Meng Qian sat on him, trapping him with her heavy, ample hips. Had any young nobleman returning from a brothel seen this, he would surely have