Yun Chunfeng saw off Daoist Wumian with great satisfaction, then unfurled the blueprints for a closer look.
The very first glance had him springing up from his camp cot.
Cradling the sleeping Xiao Ya in his arms, he clutched the blueprints and strode straight toward Tieshi’s tent.
“Tieshi, put down those herbs and alchemy furnaces for now. Take a look at this.”
The moment the blueprints were spread out, Tieshi’s eyes went wide.
He reached out to grab Yun Chunfeng’s sleeve, but the latter easily dodged him.
Ignoring the awkwardness of his arm hanging in midair, Tieshi’s voice trembled with excitement:
“Imperial Advisor, who drew these?!”
“My humble Sixth Senior Brother.”
Tieshi picked up the blueprints, studying them closely, and let out a string of sighs. “Truly a divine craftsman!
To encounter such a master and let him slip by would be a crime. Might I ask where your senior brother can be found?”
Yun Chunfeng’s eyes curved slightly. “Him? He wanders about gathering herbs with no fixed abode—I’m afraid he won’t be easy to find.”
Tieshi deflated instantly, his whole demeanor wilting.
Yun Chunfeng changed tack. “However—”
Before he could finish, Tieshi perked up like he’d been injected with adrenaline, lifting his head to fix Yun Chunfeng with a blazing stare.
“If the sincerity is true, my senior brother might make an exception.”
Tieshi was highly skilled in weapon forging, but he was also painfully literal—completely missing the subtext.
“What counts as true sincerity?”
Yun Chunfeng smiled faintly. “The weight of silver is the measure of sincerity.”
Tieshi immediately pulled a thick stack of banknotes from his bosom.
Each note was for five hundred thousand taels, and together they added up to at least ten million.
Yun Chunfeng hadn’t expected Tieshi to produce that much silver at the drop of a hat, and for a moment he was dumbstruck.
“…Where did you get all this?”
Tieshi looked bewildered. “It was in the cloth bundle the old master gave me before he left.”
Seeing Yun Chunfeng’s lack of response, Tieshi tilted his head and pressed, “Is that sincere enough?”
Before the young Imperial Advisor could answer, a Daoist in celestial-blue robes materialized inside the tent in an instant.
His features were cool and striking, his eyes bright as polished lacquer. With a flick of his horsetail whisk, his robes billowed without any wind—giving him an almost immortal air.
Yun Chunfeng’s mouth twitched.
Can you not put on an act?
You came that fast—how desperate can you be?
Tieshi froze for a moment, then hastily dropped to his knees. “Please teach me, Immortal Master!”
Daoist Wumian’s voice rang out with an ethereal tone: “Since your sincerity is so great, I shall impart all the knowledge I’ve accumulated in this lifetime to you.
But what you ultimately learn will depend on your own fortune.”
Tieshi kowtowed frantically on the ground. “Thank you, Immortal Master! Please accept Tieshi’s deepest bow!”
A sudden pang of pity welled up in Yun Chunfeng.
Someone as straightforward as Tieshi—wouldn’t Sixth Senior Brother just run him ragged?
He was about to say something when Daoist Wumian gave his whisk a sharp flick. “All irrelevant parties, leave at once.”
Tieshi shot to his feet and made a sweeping “please leave” gesture toward Yun Chunfeng.
“Imperial Advisor, please do not disturb my consultation with the Immortal Master.
Kindly take your leave.”
In the blink of an eye, Yun Chunfeng was ushered right out of the tent.
He gritted his teeth.
Serves you right for being so gullible—one drawing and you’re hooked?
You’ll be crying later!
“I wonder how much longer it’ll take for Yun Ge’er to get here.”
Jiang Xingyan sat in the main army tent, chin resting on her hand, lost in thought.
Though she had only ten thousand soldiers, with Huo Ci by her side, they had smashed through enemy lines without resistance.
In just two days, they had fought their way from Shanhe Pass all the way to the gates of Qiyan City.
The city didn’t have many troops, but its location was strategically cunning—easy to defend, hard to attack.
Jiang Xingyan had no choice but to camp before the city and wait for an opening.
The defending general of Qiyan City refused to engage and instead rained down arrows strapped with black-powder devices that exploded on contact.
Fortunately, the camp was far enough away—otherwise, the losses would have been severe.
Clunk.
A soft sound came from the entrance.
“Who’s there!”
Jiang Xingyan lunged out in an instant.
Her hand closed around the intruder’s neck—but it was Huo Ci.
“What are you doing here?”
Huo Ci had picked some refreshing wild fruits from the mountains, washed them carefully, and brought them as an offering for A’yan.
All along the way, his heart was full of trepidation—afraid she wouldn’t accept his goodwill.
But just as he reached the tent, he walked straight into her longing for Yun Chunfeng.
He had imagined countless scenarios. Only this one cut him the deepest.
“I-I picked some fruits—”
“Share them with the soldiers. They’ve worked hard these days.”
“I already did. These are for you.”
Jiang Xingyan gave him an odd look, a teasing smile curling her lips. “You never used to eat this kind of thing, did you?”
Huo Ci was at a loss for words.
He preferred sweet over sour, while Jiang Xingyan was the opposite.
Back when they were recovering in Jiangnan, Old Master Jiang had taken them out for an outing. Jiang Xingyan had proudly cupped a handful of bright red berries and offered them to him to try.
He’d found the thought of that sourness unbearable and flatly refused.
He hadn’t expected A’yan to still remember.
“Your body probably can’t handle them. Eat a few extra for me.”
Jiang Xingyan was about to turn back into the tent when something occurred to her. She looked back at Huo Ci:
“How many days’ march is it from Jingyu Pass to here?”
Huo Ci stared blankly at her, his heart being carved apart.
He dropped his gaze, his voice barely audible: “The earliest—the day after tomorrow night.”
Jiang Xingyan didn’t notice at all how cruel it was to ask Huo Ci such a question.
It was as good as telling him outright how much she missed Yun Chunfeng.
“Only two more days.”
Right now, her heart was already brimming with anticipation.
Though they’d been apart for only seven days, her longing was a hundred times that.
“Report!”
A scout rushed in, barely containing his excitement.
“The Imperial Advisor has arrived with thirty thousand troops—we’ve joined forces!”
“What?!”
Jiang Xingyan and Huo Ci both cried out at the same time.
Only one was filled with surprise and joy; the other, utter disbelief.
As Jiang Xingyan hurried toward the observation platform, Huo Ci wanted to warn her: A’yan, be careful—it could be a trap!
Even if thirty thousand soldiers marched at full speed without eating, drinking, or sleeping, they couldn’t have arrived that fast.
But when he followed A’yan’s silhouette up the watchtower, he saw at a glance the thirty thousand spirited soldiers.
And in their midst—Yun Chunfeng.
He sat in a palanquin, his white hair gently stirring in the breeze, making his peerless features seem even more vivid and alive.
Yun Chunfeng lightly waved his feather fan, the corners of his eyes curving as he gazed straight into Jiang Xingyan’s heart.
From behind her, Huo Ci could almost see A’yan’s eager soul leap straight off the platform and crash fully into Yun Chunfeng’s embrace.
And he—he felt utterly superfluous.
“Welcome the Imperial Advisor and all our soldiers!”
