Chapter 225: Azure Spirit Sword Contest (Thirty-Three)
Chapter 225 Azure Spirit Sword Contest (Thirty-Three)
After listening to Muyong Ying's lecture for half the day, Ji Bu naturally learned much about Wanxia Tower.
Sects like Wanxia Tower and Bafang Tower, which rapidly rose to power within decades by mastering a particular supreme martial art, had indeed surpassed Shaolin, Renwu Sect, and Xiao Yao Sect. Yet their lack of historical depth gave them an air of new money. Their disciples varied wildly—some upheld chivalric ideals, but others, like Wang Ao, were despicable cowards.
The martial world’s attitude toward them could be glimpsed through Lushan’s behavior—no deep respect, but grudging acknowledgment of their strength and non-evil status.
So would Wanxia Tower’s second-in-command stoop to poisoning someone?
Certainly not. Gongsun Li’s depth of character meant he’d never act rashly. Choosing such a time and place, involving a mere inn waiter, would be unthinkable.
Wanxia Tower had just clashed publicly with Broken Sword Tea House that morning. If Gongsun Li retaliated by poisoning someone that very night, the retribution would seem too immediate. Even the dimmest martial artist would suspect Wanxia Tower.
Thus, even if Gongsun Li and Shi Yanran secretly wished to kill them, they’d dare not act. They’d be praying Heaven to keep Broken Sword Tea House’s five members safe. If any vanished or died mysteriously, Wanxia Tower would bear the blame.
This revealed Feng Bu Jue’s earlier strategy as brilliant. If he’d exposed Wang Ao’s death truth that morning—accusing Shi Yanran of murder and Gongsun Li of framing others—no one would’ve believed him.
Jianghu was ruthlessly pragmatic. An unknown disciple from an obscure sect, without ironclad evidence, would be foolish to challenge Wanxia Tower’s pavilion master’s wife and its second-in-command. A verbal debate would let them twist logic; a fight would play into their hands.
So Feng Bu Jue fabricated facts, flipped the script, and exploited their guilty consciences. Now they dared not refute him, forced instead to validate his claims.
The ripple effect? Shi Yanran and Gongsun Li couldn’t dare harm Broken Sword Tea House’s people—they now feared retaliation.
As the saying goes: times change. Now, if Feng Bu Jue revealed Wang Ao’s death truth, disbelief wouldn’t be universal.
Thus, the wine and dishes Gongsun Li sent were purely for appeasement and testing—no hidden toxins.
The simple dishes were inevitable. Azure Spirit Inn couldn’t import fresh delicacies daily from outside the town. Keeping meals regular and meat on the table was already commendable.
But quality wine? The inn had reserves. Alcohol stored in cellars could age for decades. Jianghu guests craved liquor over food—so the inn stocked all varieties, from cheap to luxurious.
Gongsun Li spared no expense buying a small bottle of “End Grudges” for Feng Bu Jue.
The name itself hinted at its rarity—a priceless vintage. Its clarity rivaled spring water; its aroma, nectar.
What was “End Grudges”? A liquor said to dissolve feuds. It bordered on mythical mind-washing brews like “Drunken Life and Death.” Master Xuanzang, if alive, might regret his pilgrimage—why seek Mahayana sutras when brewing secrets could suffice?
(A jest, of course. Even the finest wine couldn’t erase deep hatreds. At best, it might resolve minor squabbles—unreturned silver loans or morning trampled toes.)
Personally, I’d argue giving the wine’s cost to the offended party would be cheaper…
Back to Ji Bu. Eyeing the wine and dishes, he’d already deemed them toxic. As a player, he needed no sustenance. Even if the dishes were beauties, his self-control was ironclad. He left them untouched.
Demanding they “eat poop on the spot” was futile—without consumption, no proof of poison existed.
Time passed. Over an hour after delivery, night fell. A knock echoed.
“Who?” Ji Bu rose, walking to the door.
A two-second silence outside, then: “Gongsun Li.”
“Shi Yanran,” came a woman’s voice after Gongsun Li, her tone frosty.
That brief pause earlier? They’d exchanged glances upon hearing Ji Bu’s voice.
He didn’t open immediately. “With night fallen, what brings you two?”
“Might we enter first?” Gongsun Li asked.
Ji Bu relented—resisting force was futile. He opened the door, feigning calm. “Please.”
Stepping in, their expressions shifted. First, the untouched wine and dishes. Second, Ji Bu alone.
The inn’s gossip had spread—Broken Sword Tea House’s others left that day. Gongsun Li and Shi Yanran knew but hadn’t expected them absent this long.
“May we ask the young hero’s name?” Gongsun Li smiled, bowing.
“Jin Fugui,” Ji Bu replied curtly, stuck with the alias.
No reaction.
“Ah, Jin Young Master,” Gongsun Li’s eyes swept the room, wary of hidden listeners. “Where are Tea House Master Feng and the others?”
“Out on business,” Ji Bu said.
“Ah… Jin Young Master, about last night—”
"I follow Tea House Master Feng’s orders", Ji Bu interrupted. "Whatever he said this morning stands. I know nothing else." A clever dodge—no need to silence him; he’d reveal nothing.
But Gongsun Li’s suspicious nature and Shi Yanran’s scandalous motive kept them wary.
Shi Yanran pressed: “Why untouched wine and dishes? Fear of poison?”
Ji Bu hesitated—then scoffed, “The food’s unworthy of my eyes.” He eyed the wine bottle. “Though the wine’s excellent… but since you claimed it’s for the Tea House Master Feng, I’d never dare drink it before his return.”
Gongsun Li nodded—plausible. To him, Jin Fugui’s answer fit. Smooth skin, tender flesh—clearly a young noble. Coarse clothes couldn’t hide his aura. Only a wealthy merchant’s son would disdain such dishes, his name “Fugui” (Wealth & Honor) hinting his origin. Why he joined Broken Sword Sect? A mystery.
Shi Yanran cared less for origins—her intuition confirmed Ji Bu’s disdain was genuine. She found the dishes repulsive too.
As for the Tea House Master's wine excuse? A lie, but convincing.
Feng Bu Jue’s reputation? Borrowing a line from Detective Di Renjie’s show: “A terrifying man.”
Every antagonist in the series used this line to describe Di Renjie or Li Yuanfang’s prowess. Even heroes used it for rival bosses.
In that show, “terrifying” meant three things: supreme intellect, unmatched martial power, or ruthless madness. Possess one, and you’d earn the label. All three? Perhaps rephrase: “I’m so powerful, even I fear myself.”
“Hah!” Gongsun Li’s laugh was overly loud. “Forgive my oversight—I only knew Tea House Master Feng’s name earlier.” He approached the table, pouring wine into three cups. “This wine’s a token of respect. Your sect’s heroes all deserve it, not just one. Jin Young Master, if you like it, I’ll send a full jar.” He raised his cup. “Jianghu folk, let a cup of ‘End Grudges’ resolve our tensions. We toast you!”
(End of Chapter)
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