"You have been blinded by the innate power of the Qilin, before the incident you did not strive for progress, and after you are even grieving, foolish and weak. Without the identity of a Qilin, what do you amount to?"
"Little cats, little dogs, using their silly cuteness to beg for fruits to eat."
"And then you watch helplessly as your second comrade dies before you?"
The Fire Qilin let out a low roar, "Shut up!"
A ball of fire struck the Old Qilin.
The next mont, a dark yellow paw pressed on top of the Fire Qilin’s head, pushing him down, dust swirling around, and the ground below instantly turned to lava. The place almost beca a volcano, with the Fire Qilin struggling valiantly while the Old Qilin looked at him and said,
"Such anger, such tears, what do they count for?"
"Can you change the world like this, can you bear the auspicious title this way? re simple words can enrage you."
The Fire Qilin struggled to his feet after the fight.
Having exhausted all his strength, he lay there while the Old Qilin, who was nowhere to be seen, returned holding a huge bamboo basket with various fruits inside.
This Old Qilin was indeed one who had followed the very first Master of Confucianism in ancient tis.
He really had gathered many good fruits.
The Old Qilin adhered to the teachings of the Master.
Not only could he fight, but he could also speak.
He could fight fiercely to leave his opponents lost and confused.
And speak to the point of shattering people’s Taoist Hearts.
However, once faced with a certain swordsman, although the Old Qilin indeed broke the swordsman’s Taoist Heart, the swordsman’s Sword Intent beca more resolute in his anger. One careless mont later, one of his horns was simply cut off.
The aged Qilin lay there, quietly watching the Little Qilin.
The basket was made from the bamboo of South Mountain, very large.
The Little Qilin nestled in the basket, just after being thoroughly reduced, from his soul, spirit, to flesh, half-dead, his face swollen and bruised, yet there he was, munching on fruits heavily.
The Old Qilin reached out a paw to touch the head.
The Little Qilin huffed, turning his head away.
Then he lowered his head and viciously bit into a fruit, tears streaming down his face, sniffling as he ate. They say Qilin reach maturity at five hundred years old, but it’s not so; Qilins have long lives, and in human terms, the Qilin at this mont was just about a twelve-year-old child.
The Fire Qilin wept and thought to himself,
Hmph!
Alright, alright, I’ll beco a ruthless one, who only knows how to cultivate and learn, I won’t bother with you anymore.
And then viciously took another bite of the fruit.
Chewing and chewing.
The Old Qilin extended a fruit, his large paw reached out, pressing it on top of the Little Qilin’s head, the Little Qilin struggled for a mont and failed, deciding to ignore him and just continued to gulp down the fruit avidly. The Old Qilin smiled warmly and said,
"Great changes are coming to the world."
"I have used three years to integrate your strength."
"There are still fifty-seven days left."
"Fifty-seven days for a Divine Beast to span a great realm is not a difficult task."
Two months to let the form of a Divine Beast leap over a large realm?
The Old Qilin casually remarked,
"If you can’t get past it, then stay here."
"When can I go out?"
"Hahahaha!"
"Then wait until the students of the Academy have finished reading their books, until all the horse-tails of South Mountain have turned into brushes, wait until all the white paper stacked in the Northern Warehouse is filled with writing, and all the food in the world has been eaten. Then, I will let you out."
The Fire Qilin was overjoyed, "Deal!"
Chewing and chewing and chewing.
The Fire Qilin then realized sothing was amiss.
"Eh???"
"Are you bluffing ?"
The Fire Qilin glared at him.
So, the Old Qilin burst into hearty laughter, extrely delighted.
Since the death of the original Master.
He had not been so cheerful.
Master, you said ’without knowing life, how can one know death’.
To be old and not to die is to be a rogue.
If only you were still alive, Master.
..........
The currents of the world surge like waves and twirl like whirlpools, yet the very center of this maelstrom, the Central State, is paradoxically quiet and peaceful; the entrance of the Heavenly Strategy Mansion is desolate, despite students pretending to pass by, nobody enters.
Li Guanyi is bored—with a month left until the Emperor’s hunting expedition.
The tradition of the autumn hunt appears to be even older than the Red Emperor’s era.
Feng Xiao did not bring anyone back.
It seems that he could not part with the top-notch Thousand-Day Drunk.
Compared to whether soone is outside, not in one’s own camp, the loss of fine wine seed to hurt him more. There was a day when he had finally plucked up the courage to find soone, but when he arrived, he could not bring himself to pour out the wine.
Li Guanyi chuckled to himself, not minding, pouring a full dou and a sheng for Feng Xiao, thinking that if he could see that cheap elder brother again, he definitely needed to say a few nice words, to coax so more good wine from him.
Little did he know that at that mont, a silver-haired man with slightly bruised eyes was nearly grinding his teeth in anger.
Every day, Li Guanyi would play a widely popular chess-like ga with Shaking Light,
then go to the Academy to visit several Palace Masters, to see Master Mo and Su Wang and chat with Mr. Wang Tong. Grandpa was just reading, not only not fencing, but he was also not even touching his sword these days.
The only change involved Wen Lingjun and Wen He.
Wen He and Wen Lingjun discussed the current situation of the Qilin Army, and after that, Wen He ntioned he had one million taels of silver. Wen Lingjun was silent for a long ti; with Wen Lingjun’s strategic insight and Wen He’s ans, the two of them settled on a plan.
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