Chapter 23 023: Master Tian
"I have a little motorcycle, but I never ride it..."
Shen Tang, riding on the back of the motorcycle, was anything but still, sometimes stretching her neck to sing loudly, sometimes plucking leaves and flowers. Accompanied by the "ding-a-ling" of bells, the off-key tune followed along, and the singer would occasionally forget the lyrics and hum a couple of times in place.
"One day, on a whim, I rode my bicycle to the market..."
Qi Shan finally lost her temper: "Young Master Shen, who did you learn 'music' from among the Six Arts of a Gentleman?"
It's absolutely misleading and corrupting people.
"Doesn't it sound good?"
Shen Tang asked sincerely.
Although her memories are few, she vaguely recalls being a singing sensation, the kind who could captivate an entire audience with a single note. A woman who could sing, could draw, and was a prime example of a high-quality woman.
(*▽*)
Qi Shan looked at Shen Tang with a complicated expression.
The latter's eyes were open and confident; clearly, she not only didn't think there was anything wrong with her singing, but also thought his taste was flawed. Qi Shan couldn't figure out where her confidence came from, and said, "There's a saying that's quite fitting—'Aren't there mountain songs and village flutes?'"
Shen Tang asked in confusion, "What?"
Qi Shan suppressed a laugh and said, "The harsh, discordant sounds are hard to listen to."
Shen Tang: "..."
Her fist hardened!
"Yuanliang was able to grow up safely, it must have been all luck, right?"
A perfectly normal person, but he just happens to have a mouth!
"It's all about strength, of course."
Shen Tang: "..."
Seeing her lose control of her facial expressions, her features contorted and disoriented, Qi Shan laughed heartily: "Young Master Shen, don't worry, you're still young, you can still learn slowly."
About an hour later, Qi Shan looked up at the sun; it was the hottest time of day. Even just standing there doing nothing, let alone escorting prisoners, would cause sweat to pour out uncontrollably, soaking his inner shirt.
Should we speed up?
Shen Tang said, "If we get too close, we might be discovered."
Qi Shan said, "Given the soldiers' lazy and slack habits, how could they possibly continue their journey under such scorching sun? They'll most likely find a shady spot to rest and have some tea to cool off. Young Master Shen has put so much stuff in the tea; I'm afraid I'll miss the show if I arrive too late."
“Yuanliang is right. I’ll go ahead and watch the show. If you don’t want to ride a mule, then walk slowly on your own two legs.”
Shen Tang whipped the motorcycle's rear end with a whip.
The motorcycle, in pain, took off at full speed.
In no time, only a small dot remained. Faced with Shen Tang's childish "provocation," Qi Shan just smiled, seemingly unconcerned, but then recited, "Chasing the wind and treading the scenery."
With outstretched wings, it can soar into the deep sky; with outstretched feet, it can chase the wind and follow the shadows.
His figure swayed slightly, leaving only a blur, as if he were walking on the wind. Each step he took covered more than three zhang (approximately 10 meters) away. His expression was calm and his posture relaxed.
Shen Tang: "???"
Qi Shan swept past her, creating a gentle breeze, and in the blink of an eye, her figure was already dozens of feet away.
Shen Tang: "!!!"
Calling the referee! Someone here is cheating!
She ultimately suffered from her lack of experience with the power of words; riding a four-legged motorcycle, she still couldn't outrun Qi Shan, who had only two legs.
The sun was scorching, and the soldiers escorting the prison carts, unable to bear the heat, sought refuge in a dense grove of trees to rest. They gathered in small groups in the shade, while the prison carts lay exposed to the sun. The prisoners inside were either suffering from heatstroke, their faces pale and weak, or bearing severe whip marks.
The Imperial Censor was the most seriously injured.
Tired, sleepy, hungry, and thirsty, with his throat burning, the Imperial Censor even felt his life force rapidly slipping away.
To torture the prisoners, the soldiers went to extreme lengths. These prison vans used to transport them were specially customized according to their height. Some were so tall that the prisoners could only stand on their tiptoes to make their necks and wrists feel comfortable; others were so short that they could neither stand up nor sit down, and could only maintain a semi-squatting posture.
No matter what method was used, I couldn't sleep peacefully. After a few days, even without being whipped, I was half dead.
The prison cart used by the Censor-in-Chief was of a particularly high standard.
He could only manage to catch his breath by standing on his tiptoes, but he couldn't hold it for long before his heels would drop back down.
Severe injuries, intense emotional outburst, dehydration, hunger, exhaustion... all these factors combined to cause him to experience severe hallucinations. His chapped lips moved slightly as he murmured, "Water, water... water..."
Just as he was about to faint, his prison cart was kicked, and the shaking brought him back to his senses.
"Father, wake up!" The Imperial Censor barely regained some of his senses and turned to look at his son in the prison cart next door—his son's prison cart was low and had room to stretch his legs—his expression was full of worry and surprise, and he said, "Father, look at them."
them?
who?
The Imperial Censor was a few beats slow to react.
He followed his son's gaze and saw that the soldiers who had just been seeking refuge from the heat under the trees were having one mishap after another. Some were rolling around with their hands covering their heads, some were lying on the ground convulsing, some were having difficulty breathing, some were rolling their eyes and foaming at the mouth, some were clenching their teeth and having facial spasms. A few of them did not react so severely, but they were still kneeling on the ground clutching their stomachs. Some even lost control of their anuses, making a complete spectacle of themselves.
Even an experienced censor like the Censor-in-Chief instantly understood.
My first thought was that these soldiers were poisoned!
My second thought was that someone was planning a prison break!
This thought invigorated him, and a strong will to survive surged from the depths of his body, prompting him to barely muster his strength.
The soldiers were thrown into chaos.
"The water is poisonous!"
"It's poisonous!"
"Prepare for the enemy, be on high alert!"
Most of the soldiers were poisoned, and only about a dozen, who hadn't had time to drink water, escaped. They drew their knives and surrounded the prison cart, their expressions panicked, like frightened birds guarding every direction.
A few breaths later, the surroundings were calm.
jingle--
It's here!
This thought arose in the minds of all the soldiers.
But strangely, we could only hear their voices, but never see them.
Where are they?
"Filial sons, are you looking for me?"
An unfamiliar voice came from behind them. Startled, they turned around to find the prison cart empty, except for a young boy with a delicate face and a thin build, wielding a sword. The boy swept his sword across their eyes, the gleaming blade flashing past, and a sudden pain shot through them.
Blood stained the entire field of vision.
"Slash it across the wanderer's body!"
Shen Tang's expression was as cold as frost as she drew her sword and leaped down.
She brandished her sword to discipline her filial son, while the prisoners lost their footing and fell to the ground, the prison cart already dozens of feet away.
The Imperial Censor's pupils constricted.
"It's been a long time, Teacher Tian."
The Imperial Censor turned his head at the sound and saw a tall young man standing not far away. He had his hands tucked into his sleeves, and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair behind him, creating a unique and beautiful sight. The young man smiled and nodded at him, but the smile looked undeniably fake.
Teacher Tian?
The Imperial Censor was taken aback by this title.
Upon seeing this, Qi Shan said, "You have a bad memory, Master Tian."
The son of the Imperial Censor, supporting his elderly father, looked at Qi Shan warily: "Young master, do you know my father?"
Still calling him "Teacher Tian"?
The Imperial Censor was also puzzled.
Do they know each other?
With his knowledge, he could naturally tell what methods the young man had used to rescue him. It was nothing more than constructing a battlefield with "scattered stars" and then replacing them with "switching flowers and grafting trees" or other words of command.
It sounds simple, but look at the distance between the young man and the prison cart. The "scattered" area covers at least a hundred feet in radius. Before attaching himself to any feudal lord, how could a scholar who has achieved this level of success by his own strength be an unknown and simple character?
If he knew him, he would definitely remember him.
I'm moving into my new house tomorrow, and because I have to get up early to entertain the guests who come to congratulate me, I'm updating a little early today.
Goodnight everyone.
(End of this chapter)
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