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墨書 Inktalez
After a brief moment, Gu Ping hurriedly arrived and just as quickly departed, a figure that caught the attention of the Easterners, disappearing once again from their sight.
The west side of Pujiao City was bustling with activity. Whether it was the genius girl Shu Qi from Scattered Cultivator City, the young prodigy Gan Bu Ping from Feiyuxuzong, or the young disciple Dongfang Yang and his apprentice Gu Yue from Mok Ming Academy, they all gathered at the Lotus Moon Tavern in Pujiao City’s west side, under the watchful eyes of many.
Though the alley was small, Coco, who lived there, found that the patrons were anything but ordinary.
Regardless of whether they hailed from Scattered Cultivator City or various Major Sects, it was clear that not everyone was easy to get along with. Those who could mingle among the Loose Cultivators were naturally held in higher regard.
After all, Mei Lingluo's reputation was well-known. She had appeared among the guests at Cloud Mist Manor, and her status in the Divine Period realm certainly set her apart from ordinary cultivators.
In a world where cultivation and martial arts intertwined almost seamlessly, it resembled a tangled mess that was difficult to untangle. Ordinary cultivators, aside from seeking help in various Great Wars to align with their Dao Tradition, simply followed the crowds to wherever it was lively. After all, where there were many people gathered, there would inevitably be scenes of genius clashes and fierce battles that captivated onlookers.
The news of Bu Luo Gu Ping's appearance in Yingdu caused a slight stir within a small circle. However, as time passed without any further developments regarding Gu Ping, she gradually faded from people's memories. The surname Gu was common; many parents named their children with "Ping" in hopes of bringing them a touch of good fortune.
If Gu Ping were aware of this, she would surely find it both amusing and infuriating. A name so plain had become almost ubiquitous. If Gu Ping introduced herself anywhere, it was unlikely anyone would be surprised.
The war continued but had become a norm. What once tugged at people's heartstrings now seemed insignificant to ordinary folk. In times of chaos and competition for dominance, anyone seeking initial victory needed to treat those with surnames well. Without the support of cultivators bearing those names, the dream of unifying Tiandong would shatter like bubbles in water.
Thus, they hoped that the flames of war would not reach their faces. Among numerous factions vying for power, it was merely a matter of time for those with surnames. Despite being tempered by years of warfare, they remained unaffected and continued to act according to their own interests—each one mastering the rules of survival in chaotic times.
As rain fell lightly on apricot blossoms, refreshing breezes brushed against their faces.
In taverns, scholars strolled through the streets composing poetry. For those cultivators who had lived for decades, such pursuits were hardly remarkable. Poetry and song were skills everyone should possess; otherwise, when venturing out into society and needing to showcase their refined tastes, they might find themselves at a loss for words—making them seem like mere commoners from the countryside.
Then, when we meet again, I'll prepare a couple of lines of verse in advance. At that time, whether we know each other or not, I hope to say just one thing: I've long admired you.
So many years have passed, and I don't deny it. Those clichés are just too real; out of ten people, eight won't recognize each other. It's quite bold to say "I've long admired you," hmph.
By the window on the second floor, the Yellow-Clad Woman was quite rude, tearing away the veil of modesty. The cultivators greeting each other turned their heads with ill intentions, ready to draw their swords at the slightest disagreement. Bu Luo could tell that the Yellow-Clad Woman was extraordinary.
How could a young girl not have heard of my reputation? I don't deny it. Isn't it normal? There's no need to nitpick with a little girl, lest it be spread around for the Easterners to laugh at.
Just now, one of the two exchanged pleasantries and casually pulled the Green Robed Swordsman over for a drink, appearing completely unconcerned.
Oh, we are quite famous; go ahead and say our names! What of a young girl? Her memory cannot compare to our great heroes.
Nonsense! How could Wan Po San Guan Anberfei's name not be known? Perhaps this young girl is simply ignorant.
I said I was part of that battle seventeen years ago at the border between Great Jin and the Qin Empire. Wan Po San Guan Jiang Anbo—didn't he mention the unparalleled beauty of Scattered Cultivator City, Shu Qi? The Yellow-Clad Woman glanced at another person and asked, "Am I Jiang Anbo? Then who is he?"
My younger brother Gan Bu Ping doesn't have as much fame as Uncle Jiang; forgive me for making you laugh.
The Green Robed Swordsman was polite, but as soon as those words were spoken, aside from the Yellow-Clad Woman's mocking laughter, no one else spoke up. On one side stood Scattered Cultivator City amidst chaos; on the other side were Feiyuxuzong and the academy. Whether Buqi was true or false, those three were just talking nonsense, making others feel uneasy.
Oh, Gan Bu Ping! He wants to see if my grievances are real or fake?
As soon as the words left his mouth, a wine cup flew towards Gan Bu Ping, the self-proclaimed green-clad swordsman. Halfway through its flight, it was intercepted by a sudden figure who caught it mid-air. Seeing that scene, everyone knew that a true High Leg had arrived; no one dared to look directly in that direction.
"Let Jiang have a laugh at my expense. My little apprentice is quite mischievous, and I hope Jiang can be more forgiving."
"Pei Brother, let's begin," he joked. "I don't deny it. Those years in Scattered Cultivator City were quite comfortable, unlike the people from Jiang, who seem to be constantly on the move, running around without a moment's rest. I hardly returned home even a few times."
It felt as if the empire treated me like a laborer.
A general clad in dark armor and draped in a silver-red cloak appeared in the tavern. Some patrons, feeling their cultivation was lacking, began to leave the establishment. Anyone with a discerning eye could tell that the two individuals following him were extraordinary, perhaps even unmatched. No matter how famous they were, it was clear that anyone could provoke them.
"How could I not come?" he said with a hint of disbelief.
"Master, Uncle Ying, how did we all end up here? Am I really Uncle Jiang?"
"Oh dear, my girl can't even recognize her own uncle," he remarked.
Jiang Anbo and Pei Shigui exchanged glances, while Gan Bu Ping looked at the few elders nearby with a wry smile, finding them utterly unrecognizable.
Over there, someone was putting on an act, insisting that he had to drag me out.
"Leng Gucun's voice echoed from the second floor as he pointed at the lone Scholar drinking by himself."
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