Peace Order Chapter 120 - 120 76 Cultivation Technique Breakthrough!3

120: Chapter 76: Cultivation Technique, Breakthrough!_3 120: Chapter 76: Cultivation Technique, Breakthrough!_3 Xue Shuangtao grasped a string in her hand, watching the kite drift and flutter in the sky.

This kite wasn’t made of silk; it was just a piece of paper with so drawings on it.

Since her youth, Xue Shuangtao had only practiced archery and zither and rarely ran around playing frivolously like this.

As she watched the kite climb higher and higher into the sky, she couldn’t help but beco lost in her past mories, only to be suddenly interrupted.

Rain started to pour down, and the paper kite, already struggling to hold up over ti, was quickly soaked, spinning out of control and falling from the sky.

Li Guanyi returned the round stones he’d won to the children, took five coins, and purchased the spinning top and the kite.

“Size…”

Xue Shuangtao glared at her with wide eyes.

Li Guanyi cracked a smile and said, “Then let’s go, find shelter from the rain.”

Xue Shuangtao asked, “Where shall we take shelter?”

Li Guanyi thought for a mont and replied, “There are small vendors here too.

When it rains, everyone heads to a tea house just off the beaten path.

One coin will get you a pot of tea, and we set up our stalls outside—those selling sugar figurines, sweet drinks, all sorts.

People sit inside, sipping tea and chatting, like a temple fair.”

Xue Shuangtao and the young boy entered, and she saw that the place was already filled with people—n and won, old folks, as well as a rchant in fine silk garb shaking the rain from his clothes while asking the shopkeeper to serve tea, laughing and saying there weren’t many people today, and he’d treat everyone to tea as they all take shelter from the rain together.

Thus, the atmosphere beca lively.

By afternoon, food vendors began to attract custors, and people, while sipping their tea, began to indulge in snacks that cost rely a coin or two.

Strangers quickly beca acquainted, talking about the bad harvest, the beauty of Jiangnan, and how, without the struggles of war, life wasn’t too bad.

The children who had been flying kites earlier squatted by the doorway, watching the raindrops fall, pitter-patter.

They watched the rain burst into bloom upon the puddles.

The rchant proudly brought out his prized figs from the Western Regions and offered them to everyone, along with a Western Regions’ Huqin, which no one knew how to play.

Li Guanyi drew near, suddenly bursting into laughter, and said, “Uncle, give a few fruits, and I’ll play the zither for you, how about that?”

The rchant looked at him and the girl beside him, who, though dressed plainly, was also very beautiful, and he smiled.

He generously offered the fruits, tossing them over and saying, “No problem, young man, take them.”

Li Guanyi wiped the fruits clean and passed them to Xue Shuangtao behind him, then unceremoniously sat down cross-legged, grabbed the Huqin, and strumd the strings.

The rchant said, “This is a Huqin from the Western Regions; it’s different from those in the Central Plains.

Young man, do you know how to play it?”

Li Guanyi gave a nonchalant response, laughing as he said, “As long as it has strings, I can always play it.” He tested a few notes, found the tune, and then, sitting cross-legged, sleeves hanging low, began to produce a crisp sound from the instrunt.

Jiangnan spring rain fell, tapping on the earthenware jars piled outside the tea house, ting ting tong tong.

The young man sat in a Hu chair, crossing a leg, his robe sleeves drooping, his body swaying slightly to the raspy and boisterous music of the Huqin that began to spiral upwards along the roads of Jiangnan, quieting the crowd.

Suddenly, there was a change in the air of the youngster—the spirit in his features flowed effortlessly.

He was carefree as the wind, and even the girls taking shelter from the rain were entranced by the sudden elegance that replaced the forr ruggedness of the Western Regions, returning now to the gentle breeze of Jiangnan.

The young man opened his mouth, his voice clear and lodious, as he sung:

“Jiangnan is fad in the southeast, the gathering place of the Three Wus, opulent since ancient tis.

Smoke-wreathed bridges and wind-blown drapes, a patchwork of hundred thousand hos.

Surrounded by clouds and sandbanks, furious waves churn frost and snow, an endless chasm in the heavens.

Markets adorned with pearls and strings of jade, hos filled with silk and splendid riches, all vie in splendor.

Majestic lakes and layered ridges teem with autumnal osmanthus and miles of lotus flowers.

Life hums along to bamboo flutes in the sunshine and to the reflection of singing water chestnut pickers by night, a joyous scene of fishern and smiling lotus gatherers.

A crowd rides high on spirited steeds, listening, inebriated, to flutes and drums, reveling in the mist and glow.

Dreaming of carrying these fine views ho one day, to boast of their beauty at the Phoenix Pond.”

His voice was clear and bright, his brows smiling and serene.

Xue Shuangtao, holding the fruit, stood watching this youth of the mortal world, while a flower seller chuckled, finding a particularly nice blossom to tuck into the young man’s hair.

The music was as unrestrained as the falling rain outside.

There, with lofty brows, he was a ranger of Jiangnan, embodying a gallant spirit and the joy of a thousand-mile breeze.

“The rain in Jiangnan is still as hazy and misty as ever.”

The young man set down the Huqin, his deanor as free and light as the wind, a stark contrast to his earlier self.

The smoky rain over Jiangnan marked the start of yet another era.

Once over the multi-story building.

His state of being, breakthrough!