Chapter 24 – This Young Man is No Ordinary Fish in the Pond

Lu Fan lounged lazily in his wheelchair, eyes half-closed, utterly satisfied with his choice. Drunken Dust Pavilion was a delightful surprise, aligning perfectly with his expectations.

Beiluo City was vast, and nestled within it was Beiluo Lake—a gathering place for the city's most talented scholars and elegant beauties. Painted pleasure boats frequently docked upon its waters, where refined gentlemen indulged in poetic banter. At the lake's center lay a small island, modest in size, upon which stood a lone building: the Drunken Dust Pavilion.

The mission demanded that Lu Fan establish a transcendent force from nothing, making his choice of location a matter of utmost prudence. Once selected, Lu Fan would infuse spiritual energy into the area, transforming it into a sacred ground for cultivation, nurturing future practitioners. Hence, the location bore tremendous weight.

An isolated pavilion, detached from the bustling heart of Beiluo, seated upon its own island—such was the ideal choice. The instant he saw the deed, Lu Fan felt as if a string deep in his heart had been plucked.

Chen Beixun eyed Lu Fan, whose gaze remained shut, with a peculiar expression. He couldn't tell whether Lu Fan was truly serious. Was the young master of the Lu family planning to delve into the pleasure house industry? Or was this the will of Lu Changkong himself?

His thoughts raced. The world was in turmoil, with the myriad schools allying with the twelve feudal lords to corrode the Zhou Dynasty. Beiluo City had become a target of the Sword Sect, and as their appointed frontman, Chen Beixun was burdened with immense pressure. Every decision demanded careful deliberation.

"Young Master Lu..." Chen Beixun inhaled deeply, regaining his polished smile. "The Drunken Dust Pavilion is a place of indulgence. While it's true that scholars have always harbored a penchant for such pleasures... this place, Young Master, hardly suits one looking to live out his days in peace."

Lu Fan opened his eyes, a chill settling over his countenance."And what of it?" he replied coolly. "If you're reluctant, just say so. I, Lu Ping'an, never compel the unwilling."

Chen Beixun's eyes narrowed, while the Confucian scholars behind him fell silent. They were angry, but dared not speak. Lu Fan was overbearing—but he had every right to be. Backed by the City Lord's Mansion, his strength was undeniable. If not for the support of the Sword Sect, the Chen clan might have already been eradicated.

As Lu Fan's tone turned cold, Ning Zhao slowly lifted her Cicada-Wing Sword. Her gown billowed though there was no breeze, a subtle current gathering at the blade's tip. Beside her, Nie Changqing hoisted his blood-stained butcher's blade, his expression indifferent. Even in stillness, his presence radiated an oppressive might.

Chen Beixun laughed lightly."Young Master Lu jests. If you have taken a liking to the place, how could the Chen clan possibly deny you? However..." He paused. "The Drunken Dust Pavilion is co-managed by the Chen, Liu, and Zhu families. I alone cannot make such a decision."

He continued earnestly, "Moreover, the pavilion is deeply entrenched in Beiluo's literati culture. Should you shut it down, you would undoubtedly provoke the ire of countless scholars, and then... you may find yourself the subject of their scorn."

He spoke with veiled meaning and watched Lu Fan closely.

Twilight had deepened. The Chen family garden lay shrouded in a solemn stillness.

Leaning in his chair, Lu Fan raised his hand and accepted the property deed from Ni Yu. Holding it between two fingers, he flicked it before Chen Beixun's eyes."Three families share ownership? Perfect. Go inform the others. Each of them is to contribute two thousand taels of silver, along with this deed, and have it delivered to the Lu residence by tomorrow. That shall conclude the City Lord's tax collection."

"Otherwise," Lu Fan smiled faintly, "I'll visit each of them personally—and I assure you, the cost will rise."

Chen Beixun froze, staring at Lu Fan in disbelief. The young master wielded arrogance and pride with precise finesse. And yet—his arrogance remained within the bounds of order.

"As for the displeasure of Beiluo's scholars..."Lu Fan rested comfortably, playing with his slender fingers. A smirk tugged at his lips as moonlight cast shadows across his face, lending a deeper edge to his grin.

"What do their feelings matter to me?""If they have grievances, let them come.""A thousand voices crying out? Let them try."

His smile brimmed with playful menace."Sister Ning, take me home. I grow weary."

With that, Lu Fan closed his eyes, no longer interested in arguing.

Ning Zhao descended lightly behind the wheelchair, sheathing her sword and gently pushing forward. The wooden wheels rolled over the blue-brick path, their creaks echoing through the tranquil garden.

Ni Yu returned the deed to Chen Beixun and followed silently alongside Nie Shuang and the wheelchair. Nie Changqing remained behind, shouldering his blood-stained blade. He stood like a sentinel, eyes sharp as blades, sweeping across the Chen clan members.

Chen Beixun, recalling Lu Fan's enigmatic smile, drew a long breath. He clutched a stack of deeds, patting them rhythmically before bowing toward the receding figure.

"Chen Beixun respectfully bids farewell to Young Master Lu!"

He then signaled the others.

The Confucian scholars of the Chen clan, though bitter and humiliated, dared not defy the order.

"Respectfully bidding farewell to Young Master Lu!"

Their voices rang out in unison, laden with resentment and shame, tearing through the night like shattered glass.

Lu Fan, his chin resting on one hand, vanished into the darkness, pushed by Ning Zhao. Nie Changqing swept a final cold glance toward Chen Beixun before turning and disappearing into the shadows.

Once they had gone, Chen Beixun clasped his hands behind his back and chuckled softly.

"How intriguing. I had assumed Lu Changkong's son to be a mere scholar, clueless to the ways of the world. It seems... the world has sorely misjudged him. Indeed, in times of chaos, true talents emerge."

"This child is no ordinary fish in the pond. When the storm comes, he will ride the winds and transform into a dragon."

He stroked his fine beard, suddenly chuckling to himself.

"But I, Chen, take great pleasure in stripping dragons of their sinews... and drinking their blood."

…

By the time Lu Fan returned to the Lu estate, it was deep into the night.

Yi Yue stood at the gate, waiting faithfully for their return.

"The corpses?" Lu Fan asked.

"Weighted with stones and sunk in Beiluo Lake," Yi Yue replied, wiping blood from her pale yellow dress.

"You've done well. Sister Ning, find rooms for Old Nie and Little Shuang," Lu Fan nodded gently. He rubbed his temples and signaled Ni Yu to wheel him inside.

"Sister Ning, don't dwell too much on tonight's events," Lu Fan murmured. "I'm not as feeble as I may appear. However…"

"This failure must serve as a warning. Though you possess spiritual energy and are ahead of others, remember—it is not omnipotent. Until it grants you overwhelming dominance... never underestimate the warriors of this world."

As Ni Yu pushed the wheelchair along, Lu Fan tapped his fingers lightly on the woolen blanket."There must not be a next time."

Silence followed, broken only by the soft murmur of wooden wheels fading into the night.

Ning Zhao stood frozen, her face pale. Her fists clenched, lips bitten so hard they'd drawn blood. This failure had struck her deeply. Had Lu Fan not possessed hidden means, tonight might have ended quite differently.

It could have been Lu Fan, not Han Lianxiao, whose corpse sank beneath Beiluo's waters.

Of course, she knew Lu Fan did not blame her. After all, she had only recently begun wielding spiritual energy. But her defeat was not due to unfamiliarity alone. Her arrogance and inflated self-confidence were to blame. She had believed that spiritual power elevated her above ordinary martial artists, dismissing the masters of the world.

In truth, grandmasters were ranked by nine echoes. Even a fifth-echo grandmaster could have slain her with ease.

"A true martial artist must guard against arrogance and never underestimate an opponent. Even a lion gives its all when hunting a rabbit—how much more so when facing a grandmaster."

Under the moonlight, Nie Changqing rubbed Nie Shuang's head and looked at Ning Zhao.

It was a kind warning, born of experience.

Ning Zhao's despair vanished. She bowed gently.

"Thank you, Brother Nie, for your guidance."

"This way, Brother Nie," she said with a bright smile, then led him to the guest quarters with Yi Yue by her side.