Ren Changge lifted his gaze, swept it over the blue-robed youth before him, paused slightly, and then focused on the latter’s waist.
There hung a moon-like jade pendant, precisely the gift he had given the youth after returning from the Qingfeng Edge Great Elder’s birthday banquet years ago. The elder’s gaze returned, his expression unchanged, his face stern and meticulous, with only a slight nod, as if the past two years had never existed.
But those two years had indeed existed.
Thus, an aged voice rose beside the youth’s ear, and whether it was Wang Anfeng’s illusion or not, it carried an almost imperceptible trace of relief:
"Back already?"
On the twenty-first layer of book stairs, a youth in a white Confucian robe sat cross-legged on the wooden steps, holding a rare volume, though his mind was hardly on it. His eyes wandered, and upon looking down, they brightened slightly. He tugged at his companion and lowered his voice, saying:
"Hey, look, that person seems unfamiliar, yet he is speaking with Elder Ren."
"That is indeed rare."
The student next to him paused, his eyes lighting up when he heard ’seems unfamiliar.’ He looked up, but only saw a blue-robed, approachable-looking youth, not the girl he had been yearning for these past days, leading to his waning interest as he withdrew his gaze.
However, the youth in white still seemed intrigued and said:
"I wonder from which sect that senior student is from."
"Seeing Elder Ren’s demeanor, he must have studied here in the Academy for a long time too, right? One day, when I’ve made a great name for myself outside, I’ll surely return to our Academy. As the saying goes, ’Wealth and honor are to be returned to one’s hometown, rich clothes never worn into the night,’ that’s the principle."
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"At that time... hehe..."
The youth, imagining his future glorious return, had hardly flipped a few pages of his book. The student next to him rolled his eyes, thinking this fellow probably wouldn’t have such a day, and even if it came, Elder Ren likely wouldn’t be interested in talking much with him.
Realizing his thoughts were straying, the student slapped his forehead hard and muttered softly, "In books, there are houses of gold; in books, there are beauties fair..."
He forced his attention back to the content of the book, yet his mind involuntarily wandered to a scene he had seen days before; flowing long hair, a fair face, and at that moment, the girl gently biting her lip, crimson blood as the most beautiful sight he had seen in his life, his expression unwittingly went blank.
Miss...
Halfway up this floor, facing him stood a Master around thirty, observing his two students lost in their thoughts, furrowing his brows slightly.
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The right hand accustomed to using the ruler instinctively itched.
But he did not go over, not because the usual ruler was not at hand, but because ’dreaming’ was indeed an ability all boys of this age possessed and prized.
When they were a bit older, they would no longer have the mental energy to indulge in such reckless dreams.
This Confucian Master smiled a bit sentimentally, shifting his gaze to the front where Ren stood, a youth with a wooden sword and hair tied with a wooden hairpin, sensing the deep, ocean-like aura from the latter, his eyes slightly narrowed.
Returning to the archives, are you?
With your startling talents, now you must have entered the Seventh Rank, eligible for the Heavenly Gang List, right?
He then thought of himself, counted as moderately talented, yet already over forty, still stagnant at the Sixth Rank in Martial Arts, pondering over Confucian teachings daily yet unable to advance further. The understanding of Martial Arts seemed like the moon in the reflection or a flower in the water—visible but unreachable, likely no hope left in this life.
A sense of defeat emerged in his heart, and he sighed softly, mocking himself internally.
Man compares to man and dies; goods compare to goods and are thrown away.
Such vulgar street language indeed held some truth...
Beneath the Wind Character Tower.
Wang Anfeng had only exchanged a few words with Ren Changge when he saw the elder had no interest in continuing, so he took his leave, stepping back a distance of ten feet from the elder. Wang Anfeng exhaled a breath of foul air, his eyes flickering as he looked at the desk.
The desk always held endless scrolls of books, beneath which the Bagua slowly rotated.
This was how it had appeared two years ago when he first arrived, which he had thought to be part of the design of the Wind Character Tower. Yet now, having attained the Middle Third Rank and starting to grasp the concepts of "intent" and "realm," he had a sudden feeling that those desks and the Bagua beneath might not be tangible things at all, but some sort of manifested aura.
Wang Anfeng’s expression became slightly peculiar.
Looking at the seemingly inexhaustible books, a Martial Artist’s "aura" was an evolution of the mind. If one had to finish reading the books to leave, wouldn’t Elder Ren be intentionally imprisoning himself here? Each book finished only led to another appearing, and throughout his life, it would be almost impossible to step out of the Academy again, nearly amounting to self-imprisonment.
He looked at the profoundly mysterious Bagua, seeing it almost like a solid cage.
The elder sat inside, meticulously engaging in what seemed a futile endeavor.
For ten years, twenty years, or perhaps even longer.
He felt a touch of melancholy.
Wang Anfeng withdrew his gaze, not pursuing the thoughts further, as the choices of his seniors surely had their reasoning. He had not experienced those tumultuous times of sword and shadow, unable to comprehend them no matter what. Besides, there were other matters to attend to; he collected his scattered thoughts, slightly closed his eyes, and his inner strength slowly circulated.