Chapter 54: I Wrote All Those Storybooks!

In the wilderness, a middle-aged man in scholar’s robes, dressed in blue, rode his swift horse along the official road. Turning his head, he glanced at the distant sky, where demonic energy surged, dark clouds still swirling, dyeing nearly half the heavens a deep, blood-red hue.

“What a heavy demonic aura…” he murmured. The recent furor in the martial world about the Demon Dragon Spear’s reappearance had not escaped his notice. Rumors had even detailed the differences between peerless weapons and ordinary arms, information so esoteric that even he had never heard of it.

Judging by the current state of the demonic aura, the Demon Dragon Spear seemed to be even more terrifying than the rumors suggested. Were it not for urgent business at hand, he might have intervened to prevent such a demonic weapon from entering the world, stirring up bloodshed and chaos.

But he’d heard that Elder Hu was already handling the matter, so there should not be too many casualties. With this in mind, he withdrew his gaze, only for his eyes to catch, in the distance, a familiar figure.

It was an old man, crouching on the ground, pressing a fine-looking horsetail whisk against a flat slab of granite with his left hand, while rhythmically tapping the handle with a stone in his right hand.

“Elder Hu, what are you… doing?” he called out.

The old man started, his hand striking a bit too hard so that the stone shattered against the handle, while the whisk remained unscathed.

“Ahaha, it’s nothing! I just find this whisk a bit unwieldy, so I’m making some adjustments,” the old man replied with an easy laugh, flicking the broken pieces onto a nearby pile of shattered stones. He then discreetly stuffed the whisk into his sleeve, determined to keep it hidden, even if it looked awkward.

The man in blue glanced at the mound of broken stones—nearly half a foot high—and thought that the whisk must be exceedingly unwieldy indeed, for it would take more than a few sticks of incense to break so many stones.

He didn’t pursue the matter further, instead bowing and asking, “Elder Hu, how goes the situation with the demonic weapon?”

“Oh, there’s a brat handling it. Shouldn’t be a big problem,” Elder Hu replied vaguely, then shifted the topic. “What brings you to the Great Zhou?”

“I’m delivering a letter,” the man replied.

“A letter?” Elder Hu looked surprised. “Who could possibly persuade you to deliver a letter? And where to?”

He fixed his gaze on Elder Hu, making the old man’s heart skip a beat before he answered, “To the imperial palace of Great Zhou.”

Elder Hu held his breath, his expression involuntarily stunned. After a moment, as if finally recovering, he spoke in a low voice, “After all these years, they still can’t let go of their old grudges?”

“The longer time passes, the deeper the resentment grows. For them to have endured so many years and only now seek to settle their scores—it hasn’t been easy,” the man in blue replied.

Elder Hu sighed. “If their grievances could be resolved, that would be good. But I fear these peaceful days may soon be over; it took such effort for the two kingdoms to find stability.”

“Perhaps it’s because both kingdoms are stable now, with heirs in place, that they’ve decided the time is right to do what they’ve long wished to do,” the man said.

Elder Hu shook his head vigorously, exasperated. “I just can’t understand it—at their age, they still can’t see through it all! Forget it, I won’t think about it anymore.”

The man in blue smiled and asked, “Elder Hu, will you come to witness it then?”

“Hahahaha! An event like this? How could I miss it?” Elder Hu laughed heartily.

The man in blue clasped his hands in farewell, his figure flickering away like a breeze into the distance.

…

In the small town, everyone else had already gone. Only Ji Huo and Xia Ningshang remained, walking toward Swordpoint Manor.

“Um…”

“Just now…”

They both spoke at once, then stopped, exchanging a glance. After a heartbeat, they burst out laughing together.

“I overreacted just now.”

“And I was in the wrong earlier.”

Again, their words mirrored each other, and their eyes met in midair before they broke into simultaneous laughter.

Xia Ningshang’s laughter was bright and lively, her mood inexplicably joyful, though laughing so much pulled at her injuries and made her cough.

“Is it really that funny?” Ji Huo rubbed his nose, a bit embarrassed.

“It is that funny,” Xia Ningshang retorted with a light hum. She quickened her pace, but then turned back, her smile radiant as spring blossoms. “And by the way, you’re the one who apologized to me just now! I didn’t say a word.”

“Huh? I clearly remember someone else also…”

“I don’t care! I didn’t say anything at all.”

“All right, all right.”

Joking as they walked, they soon arrived at the foot of Swordpoint Manor, where a solitary figure stood at the base of the mountain. Even from behind, he exuded a sense of loneliness and desolation—but more than anything, a proud solitude.

Seeing this, Xia Ningshang moved closer to Ji Huo and whispered, “He doesn’t look as obtuse as you say.”

Ji Huo lowered his gaze and sighed softly. “Right now, I actually wish he were more obtuse—best if he understood nothing at all.”

“Wouldn’t that be even crueller to the woman?” Xia Ningshang asked.

Ji Huo sighed again. “If they never break through that final barrier, it can’t be called cruel. At least they give each other dignity.”

He paused, then added, “But honestly, I think he doesn’t even understand his own feelings—maybe even at the end, he still won’t be sure. Only years later, when he finally realizes, all that remains is a sigh of regret.”

Xia Ningshang glanced at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Could it be that you, you big oaf, actually understand matters of love?”

Ji Huo’s lips curled in a proud smile. “Let me tell you a secret.”

“What secret?” Xia Ningshang raised a brow, intrigued.

Ji Huo leaned close to her ear, his breath warm against her delicate earlobe. “Half the romance stories circulating in the martial world are written by me.”

Before he finished, Xia Ningshang had already stepped back, her body arching away, the fair skin of her cheeks tinged with pink.

“What is it?” Ji Huo asked, puzzled.

“Nothing,” Xia Ningshang replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away with a hint of awkwardness. “So it seems, Young Master Ji’s literary talent is quite remarkable. I must find time to read your works someday.”

Ji Huo paused, then realized she had come from the Dragon Kingdom and likely hadn’t read the popular storybooks. It made sense.

“But…” Xia Ningshang regained her poise and teased, “Just because you can write so many love stories doesn’t mean you understand love itself.”

“Why do you say that?” Ji Huo asked with a grin.

“Because,” she replied, her eyes twinkling as she skipped ahead a few steps, “those who write best about love are often those with no experience in it.”

With that, her laughter rang out like silver bells as she spun in the street and ran ahead, full of delight.

Ji Huo narrowed his eyes, the smile vanishing from his face, his gaze flickering. But when Xia Ningshang looked back, his grin was as bright as ever. “All right! So now you’re teasing me!”

He dashed after her.

“Hahaha! I’m not teasing you at all!”

“You are! You even called me a lonely bachelor!”

“Well, since Young Master Ji has admitted it, I can only accept the truth!”