Chapter Seventy-One: An Ill-Timed Arrival

Gong Qingfeng was momentarily taken aback, then chuckled softly. “Your Highness, why do you suddenly ask about this?”

“A friend of mine is quite interested in your paintings, so I’m inquiring on her behalf,” Li Yunjie replied.

Gong Qingfeng let out an inadvertent sigh as memories surfaced. “Indeed, I did paint such a work back in the day, but I later gifted it to someone else.”

“To whom did you give it?” Li Yunjie asked curiously.

Gong Qingfeng pondered for a long while, stroking his white beard. A gentle smile appeared on his face. “An old acquaintance.”

At the mention of this “old acquaintance,” the white-bearded elder before him, usually so stern, now showed a rarely seen tenderness.

It was clear this old acquaintance could not possibly be Song Yongnian.

Observing the warmth that suffused Gong Qingfeng’s expression, Li Yunjie instantly understood, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Could it be that this old acquaintance was your first love, Dean?”

Gong Qingfeng’s face twitched slightly. He raised his teacup to conceal his embarrassment. “W-what first love?”

“Your Highness, you flatter an old man like me.”

The subtle panic in Gong Qingfeng’s eyes and his hurried breath confirmed Li Yunjie’s suspicion.

Li Yunjie rejoiced inwardly, but did not press further. It would hardly do to embarrass a man in his seventies in front of his students.

“I was merely jesting,” Li Yunjie said, waving his hand with a laugh. “Please don’t take offense, Elder Gong.”

Gong Qingfeng exhaled in relief. “Think nothing of it.”

Li Yunjie sipped his tea, then hesitated for a moment before drawing a scroll from his sleeve.

“To be frank, Dean, while investigating the Song residence last night, I discovered this painting there. Would you please take a look?”

“If you bestowed the painting upon an old acquaintance, how did it end up in the Song household?”

Gong Qingfeng unrolled the painting and examined it, his brow furrowing. “This is indeed one of my original works.”

“As for how it came to be in the Song residence, I cannot say.”

“Then why is only half the painting left?” Li Yunjie pressed, pointing to the torn edge.

Gong Qingfeng paused for a long moment, a trace of sorrow flickering in his eyes. “Perhaps it changed hands many times and was damaged, so the other half is now lost.”

“I see,” Li Yunjie mused. “I thought perhaps someone had deliberately split the painting in two.”

Gong Qingfeng smiled faintly, then frowned slightly. “May I ask why your friend is so interested in this picture?”

“I do not know myself,” Li Yunjie replied, shaking his head, his expression complicated.

Yun Qiwu seems barely in her twenties. Why would she be interested in an old man with a white beard?

Could it be that Gong Qingfeng’s youthful indiscretions left behind an illegitimate daughter, now come to collect a debt for her mother?

Li Yunjie’s thoughts ran wild.

He looked up at the sky, then rose and bowed. “It’s getting late. I will take my leave.”

“I’ll leave the matter of the evidence to you, Brother Lin.”

The others nodded their assent. Li Yunjie carefully put away the painting and returned to his room.

...

It was late at night.

The bright moon hung high in the sky.

Within the Riverside Inn, Li Yunjie was already fast asleep.

Eleven sat by the window, quietly watching Li Yunjie’s sleeping profile.

Suddenly, a faint sound of footsteps on distant roof tiles caught his attention.

He rose with unhurried grace—light as a feather—and drifted up to the rooftop.

In the moonlight, a black figure approached from afar.

A purple light array formed beneath her feet, lifting her gently to the tip of the willow tree before the inn.

“Miss Murong,” Eleven recognized the figure at once. “You’ve chosen the wrong time to come.”

Murong Lanyue paused, her voice low and even. “And what do you mean by that?”

Eleven replied coolly, “My young master is not yet your match.”

“You have no hope of victory against me.”

Murong Lanyue let out a derisive laugh. “If that’s so, why not surrender quietly?”

“You misunderstand,” Eleven stood unmoving, his voice cold as iron. “I mean that, when my young master’s skills have matured, he’ll come for your life himself.”

“If you leave now, I might let you live a while longer.”

Murong Lanyue looked him up and down, sneering. “You think you can stop me?”

As soon as she finished, her eyes flashed, and a purple array appeared before her.

“A fourth-grade sorcerer—so spellcasting no longer requires hand seals?” Eleven watched with interest as the annihilation array before her quickly advanced.

Just as the array closed in, time itself seemed to freeze!

A smile played at the corner of Eleven’s mouth. He drew a kitchen knife and casually swung it.

In the next instant, he vanished.

“Did I hit him?” Murong Lanyue’s brow relaxed for a moment, then furrowed again. “No, something’s wrong!”

She watched, stunned, as her spell array shattered to pieces, drawing in a sharp breath.

She hadn’t even seen how Eleven broke the formation!

“I told you,”

“You’ve come at the wrong time.”

The voice suddenly sounded from behind, making Murong Lanyue’s body tremble violently.

Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead.

Her heart pounded so wildly it seemed it would burst through her chest.

The oppressive force was so great, she forgot to breathe.

“Who—who are you really?!”

Eleven said nothing, but the kitchen knife in his hand glinted coldly.

He raised the blade and brought it down in a flash. A sword aura, swift and unstoppable, slashed directly at Murong Lanyue!

In the nick of time, another array flared to life.

Murong Lanyue vanished in an instant.

Eleven stared, mildly surprised, at the remnants of the array beneath her feet, frowning slightly.

“A teleportation array?”

“Third-grade, at the peak...”

...

Thousand Gold Gambling House.

In an attic room.

Murong Lanyue was gasping for breath, not yet recovered from her terror.

Before her stood a man in black robes, gazing out the window with a grave expression.

“If I hadn’t arrived in time, you would be nothing but ashes,” the man said quietly.

Murong Lanyue dropped to one knee, brow tightly furrowed. “Thank you, Master, for saving me!”

“It was reckless of me. I never imagined Li Yunjie would have such a formidable companion...”

She shuddered at the memory.

The man sighed deeply, his tone heavy. “After all these years, he’s still unchanged.”

Murong Lanyue slowly rose, puzzled. “Master, you know this person?”

He nodded slightly. “Fifteen years ago in Northern Tomb City, I caught a distant glimpse of him.”

“But he doesn’t seem the type to practice martial arts. How is his strength so unfathomable?”

The man let out a long sigh. “Even I cannot see through him.”

“If not for him, Li Yunjie would have died long ago.”

“After the battle at the Northern Tomb, I sent many assassins to eliminate Li Yunjie once and for all.”

“But none of them ever returned.”

“Even your senior brother—he too fell by that man’s hand.”

Murong Lanyue’s face darkened. The senior brother her master spoke of had been peak third-grade...