My Wife Is A Sword Immortal-Chapter 88 - 77: The Daoist Gentleman

Chapter 88: Chapter 77: The Daoist Gentleman

Lin Wenruo silently scrutinized the face of the young Confucian scholar before him.

His appearance could only be described as decent, but he had a pair of bright eyes. They were not like the dazzling stars of those peerless geniuses Lin Wenruo had seen before, but rather contained a faint glimmer, like a light in a dark chamber that had endured for a thousand years.

When you looked into his eyes and spoke to him, he would stare back into yours, and you could be certain he was earnestly listening to every word you said, no matter how casually you spoke.

This was something Lin Wenruo knew the first time he met him.

Lin Wenruo closed his eyes, lifted his head slightly, and exhaled the stale air from his chest. Relaxing his spine and shoulders for a moment, he then straightened up again, abruptly opened his eyes, and stared into the calm eyes before him, nodding emphatically.

The plan they had devised that night, “Wenruo’s Horse Racing,” had already failed, but they had not lost yet.

In the distance, Lan Yuqing, who had been smiling at Lin Wenruo, suddenly froze her grin, slowly retracted it, and squinted her eyes, scrutinizing Zhao Rong beside Lin Wenruo. But the next second, she shifted her gaze, glancing at the wisps of blue smoke swirling above the platform.

An ancient bell hidden in the nearby woods tolled, marking two quarters past noon.

Liuyi Jushi stood up and surveyed the surroundings from the platform.

Gradually, the buzzing noise of the people inside the Scripture Platform subsided.

The elder’s voice resonated deeply, “The third round of the Confucianism and Daoism debate begins now. Please, both parties, come to the stage!”

Zhao Rong immediately turned, not looking at anyone, and walked forward without a word.

Behind him, Lin Wenruo, Su Xiaoxiao, and all the members of the Lanxi Lin family stood up to see him off, watching as he climbed the stage with his lean figure.

Zhao Rong lightly grasped his robe and ascended the steps at a leisurely pace.

He could feel countless eyes upon him.

At this moment, there were only two protagonists on the stage.

One was a young Confucian scholar in a plain white robe, the other an elderly man wearing a Nanhua headscarf.

The platform was spacious, with only a table in the center, an incense burner, and two black meditation cushions.

By the time Zhao Rong arrived at the platform, the Nanhua headscarf-wearing elder was already seated and waiting.

Zhao Rong lifted his robe and knelt across the desk from the elder, their gazes meeting.

Those were eyes as placid as an ancient well.

Zhao Rong smiled faintly at him, and the other smiled back with a nod.

Then Zhao Rong composed himself, turned his head, and glanced at the incense burner that was slowly emitting white smoke. He took a light sniff, seemed to like the scent, and lifted his head slightly to inhale a few more times.

Below the stage, Lan Yuqing had been watching him from the moment he rose to the platform, and as he stepped into the curling smoke, a smile unconsciously formed on her lips. When she saw Zhao Rong boldly inhaling the aroma, she couldn’t help but hum softly with a smile, her eyes unblinkingly fixed on his profile, as if she were anticipating something.

On the other side, among the people from the Lanxi Lin family, a man with a still somewhat swollen face was watching intently the Confucian scholar who had drunk his apology wine the previous night.

On the stage, Liuyi Jushi was quietly saying something.

Lan Yuqing didn’t catch a single word as she was focused solely on Zhao Ziyu’s expression, who was sniffing the incense while listening attentively.

Yet ten breaths later, the young Confucian scholar remained calm and expressionless.

Lan Yuqing’s eyebrows knitted slightly in puzzlement.

The next second, within her sight, the young Confucian scholar suddenly turned his head and looked in her direction, his smile enigmatically lifting.

Lan Yuqing jumped in fright at this unexpected sight, her Jade Ruyi dropping to the ground with a clang. When she regained her wits and looked again, Zhao Ziyu had already turned his head away and was no longer looking at her, but the lingering smile on his side profile reminded her that what had happened was not an illusion.

At this point, in Lan Yuqing’s eyes, that smile was more dazzling than the midday sun!

She frowned, her expression cold, and instead of picking up the fallen treasure, she slowly turned her head to lock her gaze on Lin Qingxuan among the group to her left.

The latter was still looking up, concentrating on the stage as if he hadn’t noticed her gaze; but under her icy stare, at a certain moment, he closed his eyes, swallowed, and then his lips pressed into a thin line as he unswervingly continued to watch the stage.

Lan Yuqing, unrelenting, glared at Lin Qingxuan, her breathing growing heavier. Suddenly, a familiar slender figure caught her attention.

Lin Wenruo, looking slightly haggard, walked over to Lin Qingxuan’s side, stood beside him, and blocked the venomous gaze from a woman who once treated him like a younger brother and not long ago had been willing to offer him a “broad and easy path.”

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Lin Wenruo didn’t look at the woman in purple. In fact, he hadn’t glanced at her for a long time and wouldn’t glance at her ever again.

Even though she was now within arm’s reach, he would look away. Even later, standing at the base of Taibai Mountain, when she handed him the white silk, he would close his eyes and reach out his hand. Even tonight, as he brought a “guest” up the mountain to request the Mountain Master’s death and send her off, his eyes would remain downcast.

He would not, nor could he, look at her ever again.

Lin Wenruo and Lin Qingxuan stood shoulder to shoulder, silent, their gaze fixed on the stage above where the third discussion that would determine the destiny of the Lanxi Lin family and the future of Zhongnan Country for a thousand years was about to begin.

The significance of this discussion to Zhongnan Country could not be described; its implications were many.

It would determine the futures of untold numbers of people here, it would determine in what manner Zhongnan Country would present itself to neighboring countries from now on, and it would determine whether a large mercantile house in the northern mountains of Wangque Continent uniquely able to sell the Spiritual Objects of Zhongnan Mountain would bear the Lin or Lan surname.

The Lin brothers watched the Confucian Scholar on the stage in silence.

“Can we win?” the younger brother’s voice was low and hoarse.

“We definitely can,” the older brother’s voice was mild and rich, just as it had been the night before in the Lin family Ancestral Hall when he promised his brother.

But in truth, Lin Wenruo knew that Lin Qingxuan just wanted to hear these words, as a reason to convince himself.

“If we win, can she be spared death?”

“No one wants her to die, except herself.”

“The tree, it has borne fruit.”

“I know.”

“Was father’s death really the work of Chongxu Temple?”

“I don’t know, it might be that he couldn’t bear the sweeping criticism after the failure of his reform many years ago, or it might simply be out of guilt for those people whose families were destroyed and lives were lost indirectly because of him.”

“What about you, will you do the same as him?”

Lin Wenruo did not speak.

Lin Qingxuan said softly, “Brother, I understand.”

Lin Wenruo turned his head, looking at his brother’s profile.

Suddenly, he raised his right hand and gently placed it on Lin Qingxuan’s shoulder.

This was the first time in seventeen years that the two Lin brothers had leaned on each other.

Above on the platform, Lay Brother Liuyi finished reciting the rules of the debate that had already been mentioned twice before but needed to be stated again.

The third discussion officially began.

Zhao Rong stood up, taking the lead to pay his respects, and said to the elderly man in the Southern Country hat, “I am Zhao Rong, styled Ziyu, a scholar of the Imperial College at Qianjing of the Great Chu dynasty.”

Suddenly, the whole place fell silent, a moment which should have been filled with applause.

Out of the blue, a smattering of claps broke the silence.

Su Xiaoxiao raised both hands, her little head held high, her lips curved, her almond eyes squinting as she clapped vigorously, only to look around in puzzlement afterward at the silent crowd. Why was no one talking?

Lan Yuqing, Qingjingzi, and others wore looks of astonishment. Aren’t you the Direct Disciple of the Mountain Master of the Academy? What is Lin Wenruo playing at?

Lin Wenruo cleared his throat lightly.

Lin Qingxuan sighed.

Chen Muzhi’s old face reddened with a bit of embarrassment.

Many in the audience looked puzzled. Were the Lanxi Lin family intending to concede the third round from the start?

The elderly man in the Southern Country hat remained calm, standing up to return the salute, and spoke slowly, “I am Tao Yuanran, a guest official of the Daoist Louguan Sect and a Teacher of Taoist philosophy at Taiching Four Mansions from Wangque, a gentleman among the Daoists.”

“Wow!”

The entire place exploded, like the Evil Flood Dragon raising its head in the azure pond.

Inside the Scripture Platform, voices rose in a furor.

This was a gentleman from among the hundred schools!