Chapter 23: 023: Teacher Tian

“I have a little motorcycle, but I never ride it...”

Shen Tang sat atop the motorcycle's back, being anything but well-behaved. At times she would stretch her neck to sing loudly, and at others, she would pluck leaves and scatter flowers. Accompanied by the "ding-ling ding-ling" of a bell, a discordant tune followed her lead, and whenever the singer forgot the lyrics, she would simply hum a couple of notes to substitute.

“One day, on a whim, I rode it to the market...”

Qi Shan finally reached his limit. "Young Master Shen, from whom did you learn this 'Music' of the Six Arts?"

It was truly a corruption of youth.

"Is it not pleasant?" Shen Tang asked sincerely.

Despite her limited memories, she vaguely remembered being a singing powerhouse—the kind who could captivate an entire audience just by picking up a microphone. She could sing, she could paint; she was a representative of high-quality humanity.

(*▽*)

Qi Shan looked at Shen Tang with an indescribable expression.

The latter's gaze was candid and confident. Clearly, she not only felt there was nothing wrong with her singing, but she also felt his aesthetic sense was flawed. Qi Shan could not fathom where her confidence came from. He said, "There is a Word Spirit that fits the occasion perfectly—'How can there be no mountain songs and village flutes?'"

Shen Tang was puzzled. "What?"

Qi Shan suppressed a laugh. "How jarring and difficult to listen to."

Shen Tang: "..."

Her fists tightened!

"Yuanliang, you managed to grow up safely purely through luck, didn't you?"

What a perfectly good person, yet cursed with such a mouth!

"Naturally, it was through strength."

Shen Tang: "..."

Seeing her facial expressions spiral out of control, her features twisting and shifting, Qi Shan burst into hearty laughter. "Do not be anxious, Young Master Shen. You are still young; there is still time to save you through slow learning."

About an hour passed. Qi Shan looked up at the sun; it was currently the most scorching part of the day. Forget escorting prisoners on a journey—even if one did nothing and just stood there, sweat would uncontrollably pour out, soaking their inner garments.

"Should we quicken our pace?"

Shen Tang said, "If we get too close, we might be discovered."

Qi Shan replied, "Given the lazy and negligent habits of those soldiers, who would want to keep traveling under such a blazing sun? Most will likely find a shady spot to rest and drink tea to relieve the heat. With so many ingredients Young Master Shen has added to that tea, I fear if I arrive too late, I'll miss the show."

"Yuanliang has a point. Then I shall take the lead to catch the hot action. If you refuse to ride the mule, then you may walk slowly on your two legs."

Shen Tang gave the motorcycle's rear a crack with her whip.

The motorcycle, feeling the pain, bolted forward.

In a short while, it was nothing more than a tiny speck. Facing Shen Tang's childish "provocation," Qi Shan merely smiled, seemingly unbothered, but immediately chanted, "Chasing the wind and treading on shadows."

*With wings, one can soar through the profound heavens; with swift feet, one can chase the wind and tread on shadows.*

His figure swayed slightly, leaving only afterimages, as if he were stepping on the wind. Every stride covered more than thirty feet. His expression was composed, and his posture relaxed.

Shen Tang: "???"

As Qi Shan swept past her, he brought a slight breeze in his wake. In the blink of an eye, his figure was already dozens of yards away.

Shen Tang: "!!!"

*Calling referee! Someone is using cheats here!!!*

In the end, she had suffered the consequences of her insufficient experience with Word Spirits; even riding a four-legged motorcycle, she could not outrun the two-legged Qi Shan.

The sun was fierce. The soldiers escorting the prisoner carts could no longer endure the heat and ducked into a small grove with dense canopies to rest. They gathered in small groups in the shade, while the several prisoner carts were left exposed to the sunlight. The prisoners in the carts were either suffering from heatstroke—their faces pale and bodies limp—or were covered in severe whip wounds.

The Censor-in-Chief, in particular, had the most serious injuries.

Tired, sleepy, hungry, thirsty, and with a throat that felt like it was burning, the Censor-in-Chief even felt his very life force rapidly draining away.

To torture prisoners, the soldiers used every means imaginable. These several escort carts had been specially customized according to their heights. Some were exceptionally tall, forcing the prisoners to stand on their tiptoes just to keep their necks and wrists comfortable; others were exceptionally short, making it impossible to either stand straight or sit down, forcing them to maintain a half-squatting position.

Neither allowed for peaceful sleep. After several days, even without the whip, half their lives had been drained away.

The Censor-in-Chief's cart was one of the exceptionally tall ones.

He could only struggle to stand on his tiptoes to catch a proper breath, but before long, his heels would inevitably drop back down.

Severe injuries, intense emotional outbursts, dehydration, hunger, exhaustion... the combination of these factors caused him to suffer severe hallucinations. His cracked lips moved slightly as he murmured, "Water... water... water..."

Just as he was about to faint, his cart was kicked, and the resulting swaying brought him back to consciousness.

"Father, wake up!" The Censor-in-Chief managed to regain some rationality and turned to look at his son in the adjacent cart—his son's cart was the short model, providing space to stretch his legs. His expression was filled with worry and shock as he said, "Father, look at them."

*Them?*

*Who?*

The Censor-in-Chief's reaction was a few beats slow.

He followed his son's gaze and saw that the soldiers who had just been seeking shade under the trees were falling one after another. Some were clutching their heads and rolling on the ground, some were collapsing with full-body convulsions, some were gasping for breath, some were rolling their eyes and foaming at the mouth, and some had clenched jaws and facial spasms. A few had less severe reactions but were kneeling on the ground clutching their stomachs, and some had even lost control of their bowels, appearing utterly humiliated.

As an experienced official, the Censor-in-Chief understood instantly.

His first thought: These soldiers have been poisoned!

His second thought: Someone is attempting to rescue the prisoners!

This thought invigorated his spirit. A powerful will to survive erupted from deep within his body, forcing him to struggle to stay conscious.

The soldiers, meanwhile, were in total chaos.

"The water is poisoned!"

"Poison! There's poison!"

"Respond to the enemy! Stay on guard!"

Most of the soldiers were poisoned; only about a dozen who hadn't had time to drink had escaped. They drew their blades and surrounded the prisoner carts, their expressions panicked, guarding every direction like startled birds.

After a few breaths, the surroundings fell silent.

*Ding-ling—*

*It's coming!*

This thought echoed in the hearts of the soldiers.

But strangely, they heard the sound, yet saw no one.

"Where are they? Where is he?"

"My dear sons, are you looking for me?"

A strange voice came from behind the crowd. They turned in terror, only to find the prisoner carts empty, save for a single, slender youth with a youthful face holding a sword. As the youth swept his sword, the bright blade flashed before their eyes, and a sudden pain struck their vision.

Blood stained their entire field of view.

"Strike the wanderer!"

Shen Tang's expression was as cold as frost as she leaped down with her sword.

She used the "Merciful Mother Sword" to teach the "filial sons" a lesson, while the prisoners felt the ground vanish beneath them and fell; the prisoner carts were already dozens of yards away.

The Censor-in-Chief's pupils constricted.

"It has been a long time, Teacher Tian."

The Censor-in-Chief turned toward the voice, only to see a tall youth standing not far away. He had his hands tucked into his sleeves, and a light breeze ruffled his hair, lending him an air of singular elegance. The youth smiled and nodded at him, though the smile looked utterly fake.

*Teacher Tian?*

The Censor-in-Chief was stunned by the title.

Seeing this, Qi Shan said, "Noble men are often forgetful, Teacher Tian."

The Censor-in-Chief's son supported his elderly father, looking at Qi Shan warily. "Young Master, do you know my father?"

And he called him "Teacher Tian"?

The Censor-in-Chief was also puzzled.

*Did they know each other?*

With his experience, he could naturally tell what method the youth had used to rescue them. It was nothing more than using "Starry Array" to construct a battlefield, and then using "Transferring Flowers to Trees" or other Word Spirits for troop deployment to swap them out.

It sounded simple, but looking at the distance between the youth and the prisoner carts, the coverage of "Starry Array" was at least a hundred yards in radius. A scholar who could achieve such a feat through his own strength, before attaching himself to any lord, could not possibly be an obscure, simple character.

If they knew each other, he would certainly have an impression of him.