Chapter 95: Young Master Lu Goes Fishing, Fate Bites the Hook

Lü Mudu emerged from Beiluo City in a daze. Seated within the carriage, he felt the wheels grinding over crushed stones, causing the cabin to sway from side to side. The coachman urged the horses forward with vigorous effort, racing swiftly toward Wangtian City.

Upon entering Wangtian City, a tense and nervous atmosphere pervaded due to the presence of assassins from the Yin-Yang Sect. Compared to Jiang Li, the renowned lord of Zuilong City, and Lu Changkong, lord of Beiluo City, the lord of Wangtian City was relatively obscure. Among the six great protective cities, Wangtian had always been regarded as the least conspicuous, even weaker than Yuanchi and Tong'an Cities. Yet, while Yuanchi and Tong'an had fallen, Wangtian endured.

After the carriage passed inspection by the city guards, it proceeded inward. After a long while, it halted before a dilapidated teahouse amidst the bustling streets of Wangtian.

"Red Dust Teahouse."

The sweating coachman glanced at the sign, squinting slightly, then called to Lü Mudu inside the carriage: "Sir, we have arrived at the Red Dust Teahouse."

Lü Mudu slowly regained awareness, drew aside the curtain, and handed the coachman some silver coins. "Wait outside."

The coachman's smile deepened as he pocketed the silver, enough to buy his wife a fine garment this trip.

Lü Mudu entered the teahouse. Though worn, the Red Dust Teahouse exuded a unique charm and elegance in its decor. Within, a delicate wooden stage was set, where a graceful young maiden cradled a pipa, her slender fingers lightly plucking strings—each note like pearls falling upon jade, weaving a melody that delighted the soul.

Beneath the stage, numerous Wangtian dignitaries reclined in wooden chairs, eyes half-closed, savoring fragrant tea while listening to the gentle tune, immersed in leisure.

After a pause, an elderly man in splendid robes, his face layered with wrinkles, greeted the nobles with a smile before approaching Lü Mudu.

"Returned?"

The septuagenarian smiled kindly.

"Your Excellency..." Lü Mudu's expression grew complicated; he hesitated to speak. He had... unwittingly sold off the entire Tianji Sect. Could he dare confess?

Before him stood Lü Dongxuan, a figure cloaked in the guise of a wealthy elder but truly the scion of the Tianji Sect.

"Restless thoughts—you carry burdens on your mind."

Lü Dongxuan summoned a maid to fetch a teapot and brewed a fine tea, the emerald liquid swirling gracefully within the cup. Then, settling elegantly into his chair, he slid the steaming cup toward Lü Mudu.

"Speak. The rumor that the Tianji pigeons have transmitted secret news of the Immortal Palace's mystical realm—was that your doing?"

Lü Dongxuan sipped his tea thoughtfully.

"Your Excellency, the Young Master Lu of Beiluo... indeed wields unfathomable powers."

"He used our Tianji pigeons to broadcast tidings of immortal destiny, stirring the murky waters of the sacred realm. The immortals laid their schemes, yet the Young Master Lu disrupted them. He once said... 'To contend with immortals is sheer delight.'"

Lü Mudu bowed respectfully.

"To contend with immortals is sheer delight," Lü Dongxuan echoed, eyes deep with reflection, sighing.

"A most extraordinary man."

"Your Excellency..." Lü Mudu hesitated again.

"Speak," Lü Dongxuan commanded, savoring another sip as the tea's layered sweetness unfolded on his palate.

With some reluctance, Lü Mudu confessed, "Your Excellency... the Young Master Lu seeks to incorporate our Tianji Sect."

"I... accidentally sold off the entire Tianji Sect..."

Lü Dongxuan paused, expression unreadable, then suddenly spewed the tea from his mouth in surprise, splashing it over Lü Mudu's face.

"Repeat that?"

Tea dripped down Lü Mudu's beard; he wiped it away, heart heavy.

"I..."

Before he could speak further, Lü Dongxuan leapt to his feet, clapping his hands excitedly.

"Why didn't you say so sooner!"

He strode swiftly to the distant stage, clapping to silence the pipa's melody.

"Old fellows, disperse. The teahouse closes early today—return to your homes and your concubines."

The wealthy patrons grumbled but obediently rose to leave. On stage, the pipa maiden appeared puzzled.

"Xiao Mingyue, come, we shall move elsewhere to sing."

Without question, the girl tidied her instrument and bowed slightly. Lü Dongxuan packed the finest tea leaves, while the maiden, carrying her pipa, gathered her things and followed him.

Lü Mudu watched, utterly bewildered by the leader of Tianji's antics.

Outside, Lü Dongxuan even removed the Red Dust Teahouse's signboard, slipping it into the carriage amidst the coachman's stunned gaze.

"Let us depart for Beiluo City."

Clad in a great golden chain, Lü Dongxuan climbed aboard, waving grandly.

Lü Mudu could only stare, utterly dumbfounded.

By Beiluo Lake, the air was thick with the stench of blood.

The ministers stood frozen in horror. A dark butcher's cleaver spun in midair, dripping with fresh gore.

"Speak! Why have you fallen silent?"

"My young master is a demon, a calamity upon the nation..." Nie Changqing's voice was hoarse yet commanding.

Emperor Yuwen Xiu, aboard a boat, took a deep breath.

"Your Majesty, we are ready to depart."

An aged eunuch's eyes flashed with sharp light, respectfully addressing Yuwen Xiu.

"Let us go."

Yuwen Xiu sat upright, calming his heart as the boat drifted from the dock, gradually swallowed by the mist under Ning Zhao's guidance.

On shore, officials trembled as the emperor vanished from sight.

"You villain! We are loyal ministers of the Great Zhou—how dare you strike to kill!"

A corpulent minister pointed trembling fingers at Nie Changqing.

Nie cast a glance his way, then turned to Yiyue.

"If the young master were here, what do you think he would do?"

Yiyue's lithe figure exuded cold grace; a long whip hung at her side.

"Kindness guides the young master..." she said, then with a sharp crack, the whip sliced through the air.

The corpulent minister screamed, flesh torn and bleeding.

"Of course he would forgive them... and allow them to confess until death."

Faces around turned ashen.

A general leapt up in fury.

"Villain, you have gone too far!"

His battle aura surged, revealing him as a top-tier warrior.

Hope flickered in the eyes of the surrounding ministers.

But in the next instant, the butcher's cleaver flashed—his head flew upward, blood spraying.

Lu Changkong watched coolly, evidently prepared. He knew his son's temper well.

Luo Cheng gripped his long blade, excitement blazing.

These treacherous officials! While General Jiang Li shed blood on the frontlines, these men schemed in the capital.

They deserved death!

One by one, ministers paled, trembling with fear. Some wailed, screaming at the emperor's departing boat.

But their cries were cut short as Yiyue's whip lashed out again, tearing flesh.

"Lord Lu, you are a high minister—how can you allow such violence?"

A minister glared, demanding an explanation.

Lu Changkong drew his blade, a flash of steel, and the minister fell into a pool of blood.

"I am the lord, but... also a father."

Lu Changkong spoke calmly.

"Those who slander my son shall die."

Whip strikes flew like shadows; ministers were bloodied and beaten.

Nie Changqing wielded his blade with deadly precision.

"I was wrong, I was wrong! The Young Master Lu is wise and majestic—the pillar of Great Zhou!"

"Lord Lu, spare me... I was deceived by rumors... I was foolish!"

Blood stained the lakeshore, the breeze whispering over the corpses.

Many ministers died; more knelt, battered and begging for mercy.

Blinded by greed and ambition, they sought eternal fame, yet not death.

"Lock them all away," Lu Changkong commanded.

On the main street of Beiluo City, officials arriving by carriage from the imperial capital grew pale upon hearing the massacre at the lake.

They urged their coachmen to turn and flee.

Yet at Lu Changkong's command, all incoming carriages were halted and blocked. Trembling ministers were forced down, legs weak, dragged into prison.

Outside Beiluo City, carriages turned away, raising clouds of dust as they fled back to the capital in panic.

The news struck the imperial capital like thunder, shaking it to its core.

The small boat rocked gently.

Yuwen Xiu sat on board, gazing at the misty lake, his heart tense.

In truth, the old eunuch was even more anxious.

The Young Master Lu was unpredictable—if he planned harm against the emperor now, no one could stop him.

Sweat beaded his forehead.

"Relax..." Ning Zhao turned, smiling serenely, sensing their tension.

"The young master has a good temper."

Yuwen Xiu pressed his lips, clenched his hands on the boat's edge.

Please, say no more.

The screams of the officials still echoed faintly in his ears, lingering like a ghost.

Suddenly, the mist parted.

At the lake's center, Yuwen Xiu saw a lone small boat.

Upon it sat a handsome youth, lips crimson and teeth pearly, dressed in pristine white robes.

He occupied a wheelchair, one hand poised over a Go board, the other holding a fishing rod.

A slender fish nipped the line, tail flicking ceaselessly.

Yuwen Xiu fixed his gaze on Lu Fan—it was his first encounter with the legendary Young Master Lu.

Sweat poured from the old eunuch's brow; the oppressive aura robbed even this seventh-rank grandmaster of breath.

The slender fish floated before Lu Fan.

Beneath the placid lake surface, the Young Master's fate was quietly unfolding... a bite on the hook.