Chapter 858: A New Game of Tiles
Old Master Tang said, "You little brat, what could you possibly have to discuss?"
Tang Thirty-Six smiled and said, "Old fellow, do you think this game of tiles is over?"
For some reason, looking at his smile, Chen Changsheng felt a chill, and then a pang of pity for him.
After leaving the Tang ancestral hall, the first words he had spoken were, "Where's that old immortal?"
Comparing "old immortal" and "old fellow," the former naturally carried a heavier weight of resentment.
Now he was using the latter, which didn't mean his resentment had lessened; it only showed that his attitude was growing colder and colder.
Coldness came from heartlessness.
Old Master Tang was far too heartless.
On the surface, everything that had happened yesterday could certainly be attributed to Old Master Tang's wisdom and decisiveness.
Upon learning that his second son had colluded with the demon race, he had placed righteousness above family loyalty.
But Tang Thirty-Six didn't see it that way.
He had spent a full half year in the ancestral hall, silent and brooding, and had long since figured everything out clearly.
He had seen through his grandfather completely.
If Chen Changsheng hadn't come to Wenshui, his father would surely have died, and he himself would have been confined until death.
Whether it was the poisoning or the power struggle, many things on the surface seemed to be the work of Second Master Tang, but whose family was the Tang family?
If Old Master Tang hadn't remained silent all along, would these things have happened?
Not to mention that confining Tang Thirty-Six in the ancestral hall was an order personally given by the old master himself.
If there was any mastermind behind this affair, Old Master Tang was the true one.
Only, Old Master Tang hadn't expected that for the sake of his grandson, the Orthodoxy would take such a tough, almost self-destructive stance. Chen Changsheng, who had appeared in Wenshui City, was nothing like a mature, steady Pope who prioritized the Orthodoxy and the common people of the world; he was more like a hot-blooded fool blinded by passion.
Nor had Old Master Tang expected that Nanxi Zhai and the Mount Li Sword Sect would also show such resolute positions, especially the latter, which had forced the Qiushan family to back down. Even less had he expected that these young people would so directly overturn the table, letting many see the truth of this game.
…
The emerald bamboo tiles kept rubbing and clashing against each other, making a pleasant sound, then gradually became orderly.
Tang Thirty-Six's tile-shuffling technique was very skilled, and he hadn't forgotten to chat with Chen Changsheng: "Since I was a child, I always wanted to play tiles in this room, but this old fellow always said I was too young and never gave me the chance. Honestly, when it comes to playing tiles, he's no match for me."
After learning that Xu Yourong had once been Old Master Tang's tile partner, Chen Changsheng had always wondered why Tang Thirty-Six had never met her. Hearing this now, he understood the story: back then, in Old Master Tang's eyes, Tang Thirty-Six was just a child, naturally unqualified to enter the room.
"Do you really think you're qualified to play tiles against me?"
Old Master Tang didn't move, his right hand stroking his cane as he stared calmly at Tang Thirty-Six.
Tang Thirty-Six showed no respect for the elderly. He only arranged the tiles in front of him, ignoring the scattered tiles on the table.
He said, "That game of tiles I played with Second Uncle yesterday wasn't bad, was it?"
Old Master Tang said, "That's because I gave you good tiles."
Tang Thirty-Six said, "But that last hand was all mine."
Neither statement was wrong.
Whether it was the Punishment Hall and Minister Wei, or the Five Kinds of People, or the hidden forces in the old mansion, they were all the Tang family's best tiles.
When these tiles fell into Tang Thirty-Six's hands, Second Master Tang had little power to resist. So he simply didn't resist, placing all his hopes on the final thunderous strike, never expecting that Tang Thirty-Six had also prepared a particularly beautiful hidden tile.
Old Master Tang said expressionlessly, "Without my tiles, you would have lost long ago. How could you have lasted until the final round?"
"That makes sense."
Tang Thirty-Six looked up and said, "Then today, I won't use the family's tiles. I'll use my own tiles to fight you."
As he said this, he looked straight into the old master's eyes—or rather, he looked at him levelly. In any case, it was very rude and forceful.
Old Master Tang said mockingly, "What good tiles could a little brat like you possibly have?"
Tang Thirty-Six said, "His tiles are my tiles. Who dares say those tiles aren't good?"
Then he turned to Chen Changsheng and asked, "Borrowing them for a bit, no problem?"
Chen Changsheng said, "They're not books. If you want to use them, take them."
"Don't act so generous." Tang Thirty-Six taunted, "Back then, I just wanted to look at your sword, and you wouldn't let me. You were nervous as anything."
This referred to the old incident at the Plum Garden Inn.
The two smiled at each other and didn't argue further.
Old Master Tang didn't smile. For the first time, his expression turned serious.
…
This game of tiles between the Tang grandfather and grandson had only one spectator: Chen Changsheng.
Although he wasn't playing, he wasn't purely a spectator either, because his tiles were all on the table, all in front of Tang Thirty-Six.
This game didn't use the Kyoto style, nor the Wenshui city's popular "bloody fight to the end," nor the Mount Li Sword Sect disciples' favorite "rivers of blood."
The style Tang Thirty-Six chose perfectly matched his personality and also made it easier for Chen Changsheng, a beginner, to follow.
Comparing sizes.
A crisp, slapping sound kept ringing out in the quiet room.
It was the sound of emerald bamboo tiles hitting the hard old pearwood table.
Those tiles were thrown onto the table, lying quietly, like Longxiang horses sunbathing their bellies on a meadow.
At a single command, these troops could array themselves in front and charge without rest.
The Red Center was a dyed-red military flag, fluttering in the wind—that was the Orthodoxy cavalry, the Songshan Military Prefecture, the Congzhou Military Prefecture.
The Two Bamboo was an iron spear—that was Xiao Zhang, the "Painted Armor," who had been hunted by the court for three years but had killed many court experts in return.
There were also swords, dragons, tigers, and billions of believers.
The One Bamboo was a peacock, and also a phoenix.
…
Tang Thirty-Six's tiles were all turned over.
Chen Changsheng asked uneasily, "This metaphor… neither of them would be happy, right?"
Tang Thirty-Six said, "A fallen phoenix is worse than a chicken… it's just a metaphor. Why take it so seriously? Besides, can you pick out a tile that looks like a phoenix?"
Chen Changsheng had only learned to recognize the tiles yesterday; how could he pick one out? So he kept quiet.
This was amusing, but Old Master Tang still didn't smile. His expression was even more serious than before.
Tang Thirty-Six had already played all his tiles, but Old Master Tang hadn't moved yet.
Countless mahjong tiles represented each side's power. If judged purely by the strength of the tiles on the table, it was still unclear who would win or lose in the end.
If Old Master Tang laid out his tiles and reasoned with the two juniors, he would surely win.
But the Tang family would surely lose.