FW (Eng)

Chapter 37: Circus

In those ten years, in which he had been living as neither man nor ghost, his heart was iron and stone--never once uncertain, and never once panicked. Shouldering the responsibility of the Four Seasons Manor as a child of fifteen, meeting the Crown Prince Helian Yi by chance which sparked his youthful heroism at eighteen, establishing Tian Chuang single-handedly at twenty-three; all that he should have done, he had completed.

Even if his name could not be recorded in the annals, the mountains and the rivers of this nation were monuments of his contributions.

As Zhou Zishu said this, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, making it seem even more like a grimace. But the gaze he cast over on them was like the sweep of a frosty beam of light; in that instant, Huang Daoren hesitated in his steps, and an urge to retreat suddenly surfaced in his heart. But after glimpsing Yu Qiufeng in the corner of his eye, he had no choice but to stand firm.

Huang Daoren had always felt that Yu Qiufeng and his dead son were superficial pretty faces; they were useless at everything, and could only rely on their sect--which was steadily waning by the day--to sufficiently maintain appearances to squeeze themselves into being included amongst the few major sects. Cangsan Sect had always had good relations with Huashan Sect all along, and Huang Daoren felt that he was helping these pretty but useless faces out in all aspects on behalf of their sect ties. For one, he could brag about how honourable he was, and for another, he pitied Yu Qiufeng.

In front of such a pitiful and cowardly man, how could Huang Daoren retreat?

He silently drew an evaluation of the large crowd behind him, and was instantly assured, thinking, there are so many of us; even if each one of us only stamped on you once, it's enough to flatten you into noodles. And thus he shouted with great vigour, "What's there to talk to him about, we'll know once we arrest and interrogate him!"

His voice was an explosion right by Yu Qiufeng's ear; frowning lightly, Yu Qiufeng distractedly fanned himself a few times with that landscape-illustrated fan, his face tilted slightly to the side. He was thoroughly annoyed by having to team up with cads like Huang Daoren, feeling that other than his plain looks, his actions and manner was more like a village hooligan's--even the pig-slaughtering, meat-dicing butcher at the market was more refined than he was. Not only was Huang Daoren simple-minded, but he also still liked to run about, with villages within ten li able to hear his voice once he opened his mouth as if he was afraid that no one knew he was there.

Yu Qiufeng regarded Zhou Zishu with a frosty smile and didn't pick up where Huang Daoren had left off, thinking that if it weren't for the weakening might of the Huashan Sect in these recent years, and that he was worried that it would be difficult for them to succeed without support, how would he be willing to claim brotherhood with this sort of slimy person? If this dumbass was willing to take the charge, he would let him; it was just as well that these two people were of unknown background and undetermined expertise, and no one knew what kind of attitude the descendant of the ancient monk held. He would use Huang Daoren to test the waters.

And thus something awkward happened--Huang Daoren's intention was for Yu Qiufeng to pick up from where he had left off once he was done shouting, and have the crowd behind him swarm all at once thereafter, so he would not have to put in any effort and could still wait smugly off to one side. Yet, he had not expected Yu Qiufeng to remain silent, waiting for him to charge ahead into danger. Unclear of the situation, the crowd behind Huang Daoren only stared at him, and no one moved a single step.

Tens of people clogged the narrow alleyway, but in that instant, not one person spoke up, leaving the alley in pindrop silence.

In half a lifetime's worth of existence, Wen Kexing had never witnessed such a bizarre sight. He had always been the sort to laugh when he wanted, cry when he desired, and play the ruffian when he felt like it—not bothering to be polite, he cackled uproariously, pointing at Huang Daoren as he booed, "I say, don't tell me that the few of you didn't rehearse this properly and have forgotten your lines? Get off the stage, how is it that you dare come perform the opera when you haven't even familiarised yourself with the steps? You won't earn any tips from anyone."