C6 There Were also Thieves in the Shabby Residence
Yang Xuan followed the crowd out of the room, pausing at the gate of the courtyard. He watched their retreating figures, at a loss for words. While the true value of Prime Minister Xu's original works eluded him, he was well aware that, for centuries, Xu's artistic mastery was unrivaled in the Great Wei. His readings often led him to linger on sections about Xu Ruxian.
One day, spurred by a sudden burst of enthusiasm, Yang Xuan noticed a resemblance between his own calligraphy and that of Prime Minister Xu after a practice session. With each subsequent attempt, the similarities grew until, astonishingly, his script mirrored Xu's exactly. He selected the most similar piece and intentionally affixed his seal to mark its authenticity. Little did he know it would spark such a misunderstanding today.
Why were they so resistant to letting him speak and clear things up?
Never mind, let them fight over it.
They're welcome to covet my possessions, but theirs? I can't even glimpse them, much less grasp them.
Despite their diligent pursuit of cultivation, they couldn't hide their true colors, blatantly seizing his artwork like common thieves.
What was the point?
With these thoughts, Yang Xuan turned back to the main house. He prepared his writing materials, ground the ink, and smoothed out a sheet of rice paper on the table. Eyes closed, he contemplated the sixteen characters. Upon opening them, the brush danced in his hand.
The characters sprang to life on the paper in an instant.
If Yu Xuezhong were present, he would be astounded to see the young man's every gesture exuding the aura of a grandmaster. He would be even more astonished to realize that this piece was an exact replica of the one Yang Xiao had torn apart earlier, indistinguishable from the original.
Indeed, both pieces were the work of the same hand, yet not that of Xu Ruxian.
Brush set aside, Yang Xuan leaned over to gently blow the ink dry. After a few careful shakes of the paper, he stored the calligraphy with a nod of satisfaction. He planned to hang it on the wall, ready to hand it over should anyone come to claim it—better that than to have it damaged and cause them regret...
"What exquisite calligraphy and painting!"
Just then, a sincere exclamation broke the silence of the room, catching Yang Xuan off guard.
"Such masterful calligraphy! It's a rarity to find someone who understands Xu Ruxian's calligraphy so deeply. To think I'd encounter a genius like you in this humble, dilapidated dwelling—it's truly extraordinary."
Who was this person?
Yang Xuan jerked his head up, catching a glimpse of a black robe. Before he could get a better look, the figure swooped down, landing behind him. An arm swung down, striking the back of Yang Xuan's head.
Yang Xuan's head hit the table before he could react, and he slumped over, motionless.
The man in black stepped forward, his full figure now visible. His face was masked, his attire that of a night prowler, and he was somewhat balding and not particularly tall. He spared another glance at Yang Xuan, his praise unabated.
"Truly a prodigious youth. Not even eighteen, I presume? Well, in light of your exceptional gift, I'll let you live." He pocketed the freshly penned calligraphy Yang Xuan had been working on, scanned the surroundings, and prepared to make his exit.
But then, an intense sense of danger surged from behind him!
The man in black whirled around to find the youth who had been sprawled across the table now standing erect. Yang Xuan faced him with an impassive stare, steadily advancing.
"You..."
He was astounded; the blow had been substantial. He had only struck Yang Xuan lightly, confident that he was dealing with an ordinary person, expecting the attack to render him unconscious for at least half an hour. Yet the young man appeared utterly unaffected.
Could he have misjudged his own strength? Impossible! Since when could a Second Stage cultivator not control their power?
What was happening here?
Yang Xuan remained silent. From the moment he rose from the table, his eyes never left the man in black. His demeanor was now icier than before, exuding an air of superiority.
Despite his shock, the man in black quickly dismissed it. No matter how extraordinary Yang Xuan might be, he was still just a mortal. Even if Yang Xuan had surprised him before, the idea of him challenging a Second Stage cultivator was far-fetched. Not waiting for Yang Xuan to approach, he moved forward, ready to strike preemptively. He had refrained from killing earlier out of respect for Yang Xuan's talent. But should Yang Xuan dare to impede his departure, he wouldn't hesitate to claim another life.
Yang Xuan's pace was unhurried, while the man in black moved like a swift breeze, appearing before the youth in a blink. He threw a punch that was equally rapid, glowing faintly with a layer of Spirit Aura.
Yet the young man with the icy demeanor seemed oblivious. He kept walking, showing no sign of pausing or any inclination to evade.
"Mortals will be mortals. Even a cultivator at the First Stage wouldn't dare to meet this punch directly, but here you are, utterly indifferent. Do you truly believe I can't harm you?"
The man in black scoffed silently to himself. With a sudden surge of force, he closed the distance to Yang Xuan in a flash and unleashed his attack!
The energy burst forth in a split second. It was then that a trace of emotion finally flickered across Yang Xuan's stoic face.
A glint of excitement shone in his eyes. He stood his ground, then abruptly stepped forward, timing his hand perfectly to counter the surge of energy with a punch of his own.
Fist met energy.
The fist remained steadfast.
The energy scattered in all directions.
The energy that was centered around the fist recoiled, hurtling back even faster than it had arrived, striking the man in black in the abdomen and sending him crashing into the courtyard.
Puff—
It all transpired too quickly for the man in black to comprehend what had happened before he was sprawled out in the courtyard, blood spraying from his mouth...
Propping himself up, the man in black struggled to lift his head and look at Yang Xuan, his eyes filled with terror.
"Who are you? The Yang family doesn't have anyone of your caliber."
His words trailed off as he collapsed.
Whether he was dead or alive, no one could tell.
Yang Xuan watched the man in black now stretched out in the yard, his frosty expression slowly easing back to normal. He retracted his fist, wiped the sweat from his brow, and murmured, "I've lost control again..." His brow furrowed in concern.
This sensation had surfaced just once before, half a month ago. He hadn't anticipated that in just over ten days, it would return, lingering even longer than before.
What was really happening here?
Yang Xuan scratched the back of his head, a mix of relief and concern washing over him.
He made his way to the courtyard and retrieved an item from the clutches of the man in black. He intended to return indoors to tend to his unease, but just then, a crimson box tumbled out from the man's grasp, eventually coming to a rest by his feet.
"What's this..."
Yang Xuan's attention was immediately captured.
The box was strikingly ornate. He stooped to pick it up, noting the icy, substantial weight of it in his hands.
A thought struck him—could this be the lost artifact from the City Lord's Mansion? Rumor had it that a treasure, possibly a pearl, had gone missing. Was it possible that this box contained that very treasure?
