Chapter 193: Same Surname, Different Fates
In the small town's school, there was a short, elderly man. Though he was a teacher, he dressed slovenly. His name was Chen Zhenrong, and he loved to drink. When drunk, he would stretch out his hand into the air and randomly trace lines, twisting and winding, with no one knowing what he was writing or drawing. His drunken ramblings were neither the official language of Great Li nor the refined speech of Bottle Gourd Continent; in short, no one could understand him.
Although the old man was surnamed Chen, he was not from the Chen clan of Dragon Tail Commandery. Yet the noble Chen Songfeng held him in great respect. The other teachers at the school actually had a poor opinion of this eccentric, decrepit old man.
Today, the slovenly old man was drinking, staggering drunkenly across the stone arch bridge toward the blacksmith's shop. In his local dialect, he loudly chanted, "Support the Milky Way, touch the great mountains, ride the primordial qi, roam the great void. Clouds steam and rain flies, heaven hangs and sea stands—magnificent!"
When the old man reached outside the shop, he didn't just barge in. He went to Dragon Whisker River to wash his face. Probably a few handfuls of cold water couldn't sober him up, so he simply lay down on the ground, plunged his entire head into the icy water, and shook it vigorously. Finally, he jerked his head up and laughed uproariously: "So refreshing, so refreshing!"
The old man stood up and suddenly let out a sigh, because he recalled the miserable circumstances of many Chen descendants in the small town—some had even become servants or maids to other surnames. Although he had no connection to them, he knew the harshness of the world. He couldn't blame the current Chen offspring, who had lost all their ancestors' glory. Still, they shared the same surname. The old man's pent-up frustration was hard to dispel. He could only open his wine flask, hesitated, and after a fierce internal struggle, looked around furtively. Then, like a thief, he sneaked a small sip and muttered, "If it were in Southern Bodhi Continent, any verified Chen descendant, no matter how down-and-out, would never be reduced to being a beast of burden for others. That would disgrace the face of the Refined Confucian Chen clan."
After saying this, he inexplicably slapped himself across the face. "Shameless old fool, can't control your mouth again. Said you wouldn't drink, and yet you drink!"
After slapping himself, the old man grinned, then gave up on restraint and took two more gulps. However, he gave himself two light, non-painful slaps in punishment.
After downing two big mouthfuls of the fine wine he bought from the beautiful woman, the old man was finally satisfied. He walked straight into the blacksmith's shop, loudly shouting Ruan Qiong's name. Soon, Ruan Qiong emerged from a sword forge, removed the leather apron from his waist, and casually tossed it to the long-browed youth behind him.
As soon as the old man saw this Ruan family sage from Snow Wind Temple, he started to cause trouble: "Ruan Qiong, you're no match for Qi Jingchun. Truly, far, far inferior to Qi Jingchun..."
Ruan Qiong was unperturbed, as if long accustomed to this. He didn't even greet the old man, remaining taciturn. However, the long-browed youth behind him frowned but held back his anger.
Ruan Qiong led the way ahead, and the old man walked shoulder to shoulder with him, unwilling to spare Ruan Qiong's ears. Like a street gossip, he chattered incessantly. This time, the old man switched to the orthodox refined language of Bodhi Continent, which had its own charm: "Ruan Qiong, look at Qi Jingchun. His scholarly lineage is so targeted by us, yet he's willing to repay evil with good, helping to look after that scholar tree."
"If it were me, I'd first let Chen Dui's girl see the tree on the grave mound, then trample it flat afterward, making us happy for nothing. How satisfying would that be? Too bad Qi Jingchun is a righteous man and wouldn't do such a thing."
"So when someone went to reason with our ancestor, even though he stole one of the suns from the ancestor's shoulder, the ancestor still didn't want to sever ties completely. He allowed him to 'borrow' it for a hundred years."
"Now look at you. I'm not trying to say this, but you're dejected, your cultivation hasn't advanced an inch. In the end, you've taken in two or three little kittens and puppies as your founding disciples. Take this little Longbrow, relying on his family's fortune—how many good years does he have? A hundred years? Or two hundred?"
The old man said this, then smiled warmly at the long-browed youth. The youth, who had been listening in confusion and was somewhat annoyed by the old man's lack of respect for his master, couldn't help but nod slightly when the old man showed him the kindly expression of an elder. The Xie family youth was soft-hearted and couldn't handle harshness; he had no idea that this old fox was full of bad intentions and was actually slandering him.
The old man followed Ruan Qiong to a spot under the eaves where several small, verdant bamboo chairs were placed side by side. After the three sat down, the old man snorted coldly: "The little girl missing a thumb is stupid beyond compare. Is she really a kindred spirit of yours?"
"And the last one is even more laughable—a wild boar demon that transformed into a handsome young master, haha! Ruan Qiong, Ruan Qiong! I'm about to die laughing. You're not embarrassed, but I'm embarrassed for you!"
Ruan Qiong finally spoke: "Are you done? If so, I'll treat you to some wine."
Ruan Qiong told the Xie family youth to get up and fetch the wine.
"Treat me to wine? That works! It's not that I want to drink myself; it's just when in Rome, do as the Romans do. It's the host's hospitality, a sage's way of treating guests. This kind of wine, I can drink! Plenty of it!"
The old man sat on the bamboo chair, turning to Ruan Qiong: "But drinking is drinking, and taking disciples is taking disciples. Since you've left that little peak at Snow Wind Temple and are finally establishing your own sect, now that you have a mountain, it's time to discuss the matter of the chief disciple. If you really can't manage, I'll find you three disciples and replace them—all of them! Even if I just pick from the Chen clan disciples on my Bodhi Continent, I guarantee they'll be better than your current three nominal disciples."
Ruan Qiong remained unmoved: "When I take disciples, I don't look at talent or prioritize bone structure. I only choose based on temperament."
The old man said indignantly: "I knew you'd say such a nonsense excuse. You, Ruan Qiong, are just a stubborn rock in a latrine pit."
Ruan Qiong smiled, uncharacteristically: "Then why are you, Chen Zhenrong, still friends with me?"
Previously, Ruan Qiong was able to take over Pear Garden Cave Heaven from the Confucian Qi Jingchun in his capacity as a military strategist, which was certainly related to Ruan Qiong's high cultivation realm. However, the Refined Confucian Chen clan had also contributed significantly behind the scenes.
Ruan Qiong never denied this.
"Because I'm willing! Can you control that?!"
The old man turned away angrily, shouting: "Where's the wine? Where's the promised wine for the guest? What's that kid up to? Is he deliberately trying to anger me..."
Ruan Qiong looked at his old friend who was always making a fuss, and asked with a smile: "What's the matter? After arriving at Dragon Spring Commandery and seeing the circumstances of the two branches of the Chen descendants in the small town, you're feeling unhappy? I'm not saying this to criticize you, but you have no connection to them or the Refined Confucian Chen clan. What are you angry about?"
"Don't bring that up. It's infuriating."
The old man sighed, then glanced sidelong at Ruan Qiong: "And you, for Xiuxiu's sake, originally wanted to escape the turmoil. Now, look, you've become a hotbed of trouble. Are you okay?"
Ruan Qiong shook his head: "It's fine. Wrong move leads to right outcome."
The old man sneered: "You can be strong in your bones, but don't let your mouth be hard."
Ruan Qiong said softly: "If there's trouble, I definitely won't stand on ceremony with you."
The old man's peripheral vision caught sight of a girl in blue approaching from a distance, along with the Xie family youth beside her, both bringing wine.
The old man immediately beamed with joy and waved at the girl: "Xiuxiu, come here, come here! Huh? Why are you turning away? Don't go! Xiuxiu, is there any man you like? If not, I'll find one for you. Don't pick a man from a tiny place like Bottle Gourd Continent—a remote, barbaric land where birds don't even crap. What good men could there be? Wei Jin of Snow Wind Temple and Song Changjing of Great Li are pretty good, but in the end they're a bit old. So you should look for someone in our Southern Bodhi Continent... Ah, Xiuxiu has already walked far away."
The old man hung his head in dejection. Fortunately, the long-browed youth brought two flasks of wine. He placed one at his feet and opened the other, tilting his head back and gulping it down noisily.
Ruan Qiong took the wine flask but didn't intend to drink: "Your Refined Confucian Chen clan searched high and low, and in the end, you only found Cao Jun? If I remember correctly, he's already over a hundred years old, right?"
The old man said urgently: "What's wrong with Cao Jun? I think he's just fine! If it weren't for being framed early on, he's no worse than Wei Jin. In history, there have been more than one or two great sword immortals who achieved success late in life. Ah, you can blame his ancestor Cao Xi for not being capable enough. If it were one of our Chen clan disciples with such talent and aptitude, just see who would dare to cause trouble?"
Ruan Qiong said nothing. He had an extremely poor impression of Cao Jun.
The old man sighed: "It's strange—same surname, but how did the people in this small town end up so miserable? Where did all their luck go? In the past one or two thousand years, have there been any Chens who rose to prominence in Bottle Gourd Continent or other continents?"
Ruan Qiong thought for a moment: "It seems not."
The old man suddenly thought of something: "That's right. But to be on the safe side..."
Ruan Qiong became extremely alert and nearly scolded: "Chen Zhenrong, when did you become so worldly?!"
The old man stretched out a palm, and it was trembling incessantly: "I can't paint real dragons anymore, only limp four-legged lizards. And 'True Countenance'—I think I should change my name to 'False Countenance' from now on."
He took a sip of wine, then said helplessly: "This matter—if it were before, my words would still carry some weight. But not now."
Ruan Qiong said angrily: "The magnificent Refined Confucian Chen clan..."
The old man interrupted Ruan Qiong: "Which family isn't a mix of good and bad? Even within the Confucian orthodoxy, there are sages, gentlemen, and worthies—still a hierarchy. Besides, this matter isn't as vile as you think."
Ruan Qiong was silent, his heart heavy, as if a great mountain pressed upon it.
Human power has its limits. Even a sage is no exception.