Li Banfeng looked at the Zhao Xiaowan who had emerged from the paper. Clad in armor, a longsword at her waist, her features sharp and prominent and her figure exquisite, without activating Golden Eyes Discerning Fine Detail, he could not tell at all that she was a "text-figure" created through a technique.
What if he used Golden Eyes Discerning Fine Detail?
Setting the technique to moderate intensity, Li Banfeng circled the text-figure and caught a glimpse of a flaw.
Words were written upon this "Zhao Xiaowan." Across the armor on her back, two lines of text were visible:
*Rouge and powder cannot mask a hero's bones;*
*The Rouge Tiger's might shakes the eight wild expanses.*
This was the appraisal of Zhao Xiaowan from the *Portraits of Beauties*, and also the two lines that had left the deepest impression on Li Banfeng.
Increasing the strength of Golden Eyes Discerning Fine Detail further, Li Banfeng spotted more writing. Every description of Zhao Xiaowan from the *Portraits of Beauties* was now manifested upon this text-figure.
"Can you fight?" Li Banfeng asked.
"Zhao Xiaowan" looked at him, a cold glint flashing between her brows and eyes.
Li Banfeng asked again, "Do you know any techniques or martial arts?"
"Zhao Xiaowan" continued gazing at him without offering any response.
*Why isn't she speaking?*
Li Banfeng pondered for a moment and came to a conclusion: the *Portraits of Beauties* did not contain any description of Zhao Xiaowan's speech, which left her with no capacity to talk.
He circled the text-figure once more and noticed an important feature on her lower back.
It was a hole—a very neat, regular hole.
It looked somewhat familiar to Li Banfeng, closely resembling the center hole of a phonograph record.
He lifted the text-figure's armor to look, and sure enough, a record was pressed against her waist.
*Why would a text-figure have a record on her?*
The *Portraits of Beauties* could not possibly have recorded anything related to a gramophone, nor could the book's author have known that Zhao Xiaowan had transformed into one.
While Li Banfeng was lost in thought, the text-figure suddenly turned her head and looked back at him.
A wave of icy cold swept over him, making him shiver.
*Is this a premonition from Seeking Fortune and Avoiding Calamity?*
*Could this text-figure pose a danger?*
*She's only a product of Sheltering a Beauty in a Golden House; her combat strength shouldn't be very high.*
Li Banfeng stared into her eyes, trying to discern her intentions from her gaze.
After a moment, Li Banfeng stopped moving.
The glove took fright and gently shook him. "Master, what's wrong with you? What happened? Master! Master!"
"Stop shaking him!" the Judge's Brush snapped. "He's frozen solid."
The glove was shocked. "How could he freeze?"
The Judge's Brush deliberated for a long while before delivering an extended explanation: "That book wrote: *Her countenance like dawn clouds reflecting upon snow, her eyes like cold pools quenching starlight.* Doesn't that make her a Cold Cultivator? And he kept staring right into her eyes—it would be a wonder if he *didn't* freeze!"
"Isn't that nonsense? When did the mistress ever become a Cold Cultivator!" The glove kept rocking him. "Master, wake up!"
"I told you, stop shaking him!" The Judge's Brush held the glove back. "A trifling Cold Cultivator trick like this won't hurt him; he can break it himself. If you knock him over and shatter him, that'll be real trouble."
***
At the Sanpan River in the newland of Black Rock Slope, Shu Wanjuan stood on the dry riverbed, conversing with Nian Shangyou. "A mere superficial wound, nothing serious at all. I've troubled Brother Nian to worry over it."
Nian Shangyou said, "Upon hearing that the marquis had encountered danger, Lord Qiao was deeply concerned and urged me to come have a look."
"It hardly counts as encountering danger. I merely had a slight disagreement with an unruly disciple and taught him a lesson in a fit of anger." Shu Wanjuan glanced at Yuan Youshang beside them, a hint of disdain flickering in his eyes.
Shu Wanjuan's earlier clash with Zhou Wencheng had happened because his entanglement with He Jiaqing had been exposed. Now that he had been injured over this affair, Shu Wanjuan certainly would not tell Nian Shangyou, much less Qiao Yi.
The matter had been reported by Yuan Youshang. He had rescued Shu Wanjuan and lost numerous ghost servants in the process, so he naturally needed the imperial court to know—at least to credit him with a share of the merit.
Yet Shu Wanjuan had no intention of claiming credit on Yuan Youshang's behalf. He and Nian Shangyou exchanged polite pleasantries, glossing over the prior events entirely without making a single mention of Yuan Youshang.
Just as Shu Wanjuan said, he had merely disciplined a wayward disciple. The whole affair was trivial, and what Yuan Youshang had done seemed equally beneath notice.
Yuan Youshang stood off to the side. Neither man looked at him, leaving him no opportunity to interject.
Once Nian Shangyou took his leave, Shu Wanjuan cupped his hands slightly toward Yuan Youshang. "I have other pressing business. Until we meet again."
What could Yuan Youshang say?
He could only cup his hands in return and watch Shu Wanjuan walk away.
Standing on the riverbed, Yuan Youshang stared blankly for a while.
A ghost servant reminded him, "We should go. The tide is about to rise in the Sanpan River."
The Sanpan River was a river that flowed according to a strict schedule.
Its waters shifted once every eight hours, changing three times a day—hence the name Sanpan, the Three-Course River.
From eight in the morning until four in the afternoon, the river was knee-deep, no different from any ordinary stream. From four in the afternoon until midnight, the water vanished completely, leaving behind not a single drop, without even a trace of mud. Then, after midnight, towering surges swept in as the river flooded, reaching five or six meters deep and submerging the lands on both banks entirely.
Right now it was eleven-thirty at night; the deluge was nearly upon them.
Yuan Youshang remained standing in the middle of the riverbed, momentarily at a loss as to where he should go.
***
Inside the companion dwelling, Li Banfeng carefully studied the connection between the *Portraits of Beauties* and the technique of Sheltering a Beauty in a Golden House.
If the written word alone could produce the same effect as paintings, dolls, and sculptures to fulfill Sheltering a Beauty in a Golden House, it would be magnificent news for Li Banfeng. This weakest of his techniques would receive a massive enhancement.
Of course, merely copying phrases from the *Portraits of Beauties* was clearly lacking. Just like using printed pictures, it was not a creation wrought with his own heart's blood, and its combat power was extremely limited.
Li Banfeng picked up brush and paper, preparing to compose a passage of his own.
Writing about his wife again would be pointless; he intended to craft a fighter for himself.
The first person who came to mind was Shan Chengjun.
After a moment's contemplation, Li Banfeng wrote down a sentence:
*Shan Chengjun was very tall, very thin, and very good at fighting.*
Having written this single line, he carried it outside the companion dwelling, dripped blood onto it, and waited fifteen minutes. Not the slightest reaction appeared on the paper.
*This method doesn't work?*
*Could it be that only the words in the Portraits of Beauties carry special power?*
*That would impose far too many restrictions.*
First of all, among the thirty beauties in the *Portraits of Beauties*, Li Banfeng only knew his wife. He had no concept of the others whatsoever. Even if he summoned those beauties with Sheltering a Beauty in a Golden House, he wouldn't know what use they might serve.
Naturally, the outcome of the technique would also be influenced by the Dwelling Cultivator. The "Zhao Xiaowan" he had summoned carried a record on her person, which stemmed from his own perception of his wife.
Yet how far that perception reached, and how to harness it, seemed rather complicated.
Returning to the companion dwelling, Li Banfeng stared at the *Portraits of Beauties* for a long time, pondering what sort of writing possessed such formidable power.
After reading for over an hour, the obscure, archaic prose left his head throbbing. Setting aside the *Portraits of Beauties*, Li Banfeng picked up the other book: *Inquiring of Stations Amid Floating Clouds*.
Boss Lu had said it was a travelogue. Judging from the title alone, Li Banfeng had expected it to be just like the *Portraits of Beauties*—steeped in classical elegance and difficult to comprehend.
Yet when he opened it, the writing proved astonishingly plain and unadorned:
*"A fellow like me just loves wandering about. I can't stay put in one place, so I've traveled to many lands, tasted many delicacies, seen many fine sights, and met many pretty girls..."*
Li Banfeng couldn't help but laugh. "This counts as a travelogue? Even writing like this can get published?"
"It's about on par with yours," the Judge's Brush muttered, staring at Li Banfeng's character sketch of Shan Chengjun: *Very tall, very thin, and very good at fighting.*
Li Banfeng shook his head. "I just jotted that down casually."
He continued reading *Inquiring of Stations Amid Floating Clouds*, while the Judge's Brush perused the *Portraits of Beauties* nearby. After ten minutes or so, Li Banfeng paused on a single page, reading it over several times.
*"A fellow like me just hates climbing mountains. Climbing mountains is exhausting, more exhausting than writing, and climbing makes one anxious. I just want to see what the other side looks like.*
*Yet climbing is a nuisance. You have to make it all the way over before you can see the other side. While walking on this side, my mind has already flown to the other, and the more I walk, the more anxious I get. So I think to myself: how wonderful it would be if I could just trample this mountain flat! When that day comes, I'll definitely trample this mountain flat."*
*Trample the mountain flat.*
*Does that mean Trampling Countless Rivers?*
*What does 'the other side of the mountain' mean?*
The Judge's Brush leisurely leaned against Li Banfeng's shoulder and gave a soft snort. "Can't you even understand this?"
Li Banfeng reviewed it a dozen more times. "This really isn't easy to understand."
The Judge's Brush sighed as it flipped through the *Portraits of Beauties*. "If you can't understand that, you'll understand this even less. And if you don't understand it, how are you ever going to write it?"
Li Banfeng looked at the Judge's Brush. "Does writing it actually help?"
The Judge's Brush slowly turned a page. "I believe it does."
***
In Green Water City, the streetlights were just coming on.
Wearing a bowler hat and a woolen overcoat, his collar turned up to hide his face, Yuan Youshang walked along the road.
His destination was Xiaoyaowu, but upon arriving at the entrance, he debated whether to go inside.
The mission Nian Shangyou had assigned him was to monitor Ma the Fifth's movements at Xiaoyaowu. Ma the Fifth had recently slowed down his land reclamation; instead of staying in the newland, he often moved about Green Water City, which made Qiao Yi uneasy.
Qiao Yi had instructed Nian Shangyou to pick a suitable person to keep tabs on Ma the Fifth. Nian Shangyou regarded Yuan Youshang as dependable and entrusted the task to him, repeatedly reminding him before his departure: "You serve the imperial court with all your heart, and whether it is merit or hardship, Lord Qiao sees it all. You needn't worry about promotions and honors; Lord Qiao keeps track of everything."
Nian Shangyou believed he had chosen the right man, but Yuan Youshang felt none of this was right.
More than a decade ago, Yuan Youshang had been a towering figure in Puluo Province, far more renowned than Ma the Fifth was today.
Later, upon ascending above the clouds, he went to the Inner Province. After a series of trials and tempering, he threw his lot in with the imperial court. Now in his forties, he had returned to Green Water City only to risk his life keeping watch over Ma the Fifth.
Connecting the past and present, Yuan Youshang had to ask himself: *Why did I ever go to the Inner Province? After squandering more than ten years of my life, what have I gained?*
After hesitating repeatedly, Yuan Youshang entered Xiaoyaowu, went into the grand dance hall, and sat down at a round table. Ordering a bottle of wine, he watched the performance on stage while soundlessly releasing his ghost servants.
The singer on stage was named Bai Mansheng. Jiang Mengting had left to run the Jiang family, and Xiaoyaowu needed a headliner; she was a rising star promoted by Ma the Fifth.
Bai Mansheng did not disappoint. When she finished her song, waves of applause erupted from the audience.
Among the patrons was a man named Yan Chongyi, the son of a wealthy merchant, who had come tonight specifically for Bai Mansheng.
He first presented her with flowers, then handed her a red envelope. Perhaps having had a few drinks too many, he forgot the rules of Xiaoyaowu, rushed onto the stage, and insisted on kissing her.
Two waiters stepped up to stop him, but Yan Chongyi shoved them straight to the floor.
From that single shove, any discerning eye could tell that this man possessed cultivation.
"Who do you think you are? Touch me again and see what happens!" Yan Chongyi strode toward Bai Mansheng. She was a newcomer after all; confronted with this scene, she trembled all over, not knowing how to react.
Manager Zhang walked over from backstage and took hold of Yan Chongyi. "Young Master Yan, you've had too much to drink. Allow me to help you down to rest—"
"Who's had too much? Who are you talking about? Get the hell off me!" Yan Chongyi shoved Manager Zhang, failed to budge him, and instead stumbled back several steps, falling off the stage and crashing into Yuan Youshang's table.
Yuan Youshang grabbed the wine bottle off the table and tried to slip away, but Yan Chongyi seized him.
"Did you just hit me?"
With a swift twist of his body, Yuan Youshang slipped free from Yan Chongyi's grasp.
Not wanting to get entangled with this man, he turned to leave, but Yan Chongyi refused to let it go. "Ask around all of Green Water City—who dares lay a finger on me?"
In truth, Yan Chongyi knew full well that the one who had checked him was not this man, but Xiaoyaowu's Manager Zhang, and that the shove had been a warning.
Drunk though he was, he still knew fear; he didn't dare act wild before Manager Zhang.
Yet having lost face in public, he wanted to reclaim it, so he vented his fury onto Yuan Youshang.
Yuan Youshang dodged away and offered an explanation: "You have the wrong man. I never touched you, and I don't know who you are."
"Don't know me?" Yan Chongyi sneered. "I'll make sure you get to know me tonight!"
*Thud!*
Yan Chongyi swung his fist, striking Yuan Youshang square in the face.
Under normal circumstances, even a hundred Yan Chongyis surrounding him could never have touched him.
Tonight, however, Yuan Youshang took the punch flush.
With so many eyes watching, he did not want to arouse suspicion, and taking a hit like this meant nothing to him.
*Crash!*
Yan Chongyi followed up with a kick.
Yuan Youshang feigned losing his footing, stumbled awkwardly, and melted into the crowd, intending to slip out of the dance hall.
"Where do you think you're running?" Yan Chongyi tried to give chase, but Manager Zhang seized him by the hair from behind.
Manager Zhang's temper flared. "Young Master Yan, you truly are drunk tonight."
Yan Chongyi bellowed, "Old Zhang, let go of me! If there's an issue, have Ma Junyang talk to me! If you dare touch me again—"
*Bang!*
Manager Zhang slammed Yan Chongyi's head into a table.
His face covered in blood, Yan Chongyi cried out, "Xiaoyaowu is beating patrons! You all saw it!"
*Bang!*
Another strike followed.
Yan Chongyi fell silent. Manager Zhang tossed him to his subordinates. "Take Young Master Yan down to sober up."
Once things calmed down, Manager Zhang went looking for Yuan Youshang, only to find the man had already vanished without a trace.
***
Yuan Youshang sat by the roadside, quietly awaiting word from his scouting ghost servants.
He lit a cigarette, took two drags, and ground it out underfoot.
After sitting silently for a spell, he tried to light another, but the match simply would not strike.
Perhaps the match was defective, or perhaps he hadn't struck it with the right force.
*It's fine. This is nothing. The humiliations I endured in the past were far worse than this.*
*This is nothing at all.*
*Truly nothing...*
*Why do I feel like a beggar?*
*Scritch—*
Ma the Fifth struck a match and held the flame before Yuan Youshang.
Yuan Youshang lit his cigarette and looked up at Ma Junyang.
Ma the Fifth drew twenty silver dollars from his coat and pressed them into Yuan Youshang's hand. "Ten dollars are for my treat on your drinks tonight, and ten dollars are for medical expenses. Ma offers you his apologies."
With that, Ma the Fifth bowed deeply to Yuan Youshang, turned, and walked away.
Clutching the silver dollars and gazing at Ma the Fifth's departing back, Yuan Youshang recalled his ghost servants from Xiaoyaowu.
***
Inside the companion dwelling, Li Banfeng took up brush and paper to write another description of Shan Chengjun.
In truth, Li Banfeng possessed a decent literary foundation; otherwise, he could never have engaged in deep literary discussions with figures like Zhang Xiuling and Boss Lu. Following the style of the *Portraits of Beauties*, he set down a passage:
*There was a warrior named Shan Chengjun.*
*His form was like a solitary crane soaring into the empyrean, gaunt as frost-bitten bamboo in winter, his bones clattering like hidden clockwork springs.*
*So uncanny were his arts that he could turn mundane things into deadly perils: a willow leaf passing his fingers became a throat-sealing sword; a wine bowl spinning at his wrist served as a bone-shattering shield;*
*A tattered robe snapped through the air transformed into a flying snare to strangle the neck; a spent candle flicked from his hand erupted into a fire dragon scorching the plains.*
The Judge's Brush peered at it and offered an appraisal: "A bit short, but the wording passes muster."
Encouraged by the Judge's Brush, Li Banfeng lifted his brush to write a few more lines, but found himself unsure of what to add.
Hong Ying thought for a moment and said to Li Banfeng, "I remember a fierce battle back then. Shan Chengjun was surrounded by Xiaowan. Several hundred soldiers under his command launched a single charge; half died, and the other half surrendered.
"Shan Chengjun refused to surrender. He had no weapons in hand, yet relying solely on his ten bare fingers to tear and rend, he killed over a dozen of our generals.
"I've always looked down on Martial Cultivators, and to this day I feel that among them, only Shan Chengjun is truly formidable. I wanted to fight him to the death back then, but Xiaowan held me back. Thinking about it now, had I really gone, I likely wouldn't have survived.
"I also recall that he snapped a section of bone from a corpse's calf to fashion a whistling arrow, then pulled sinew from the body to make a bowstring. With just that one bow and arrow, he killed countless numbers of our soldiers."
Li Banfeng couldn't quite picture it. "How many could one bow and arrow kill? A tibia isn't that long; even if it skewered them like candied hawthorns, how many could it pierce?"
Hong Ying shook her head. "It wasn't as simple as skewering hawthorns. Didn't I just say? It was a whistling arrow—it made a sound. When the arrow flew out, the sound was piercingly sharp. The soldiers in the front ranks heard that noise, blood poured from their ears, and they died shortly after. Even Xiaowan had to use a technique to withstand the sound.
"What's more, relying on the sound of that whistling arrow, the peddler rushed over and rescued Shan Chengjun. That man had a sharp mind; even while locked in slaughter, he was already planning for reinforcements.
"When I heard you mention Shan Chengjun before, I had an impression of him—that he was extraordinarily powerful—yet I couldn't recall how powerful. Only after eating Smiling Old Pincer last time did I recover much of my memory and recall that brutal battle. Because of that clash, our entire army feared him."
Li Banfeng was astonished. "What did Shan Chengjun do before the war? Didn't the court ever try to recruit him? He couldn't have just popped out of nowhere when the fighting started, could he?"
While Hong Ying racked her memory, the Tang dao recalled something. "Even before the war, Shan Chengjun was widely renowned. It was said that in a teahouse or wine shop, he once killed a man with chopsticks."
Hong Ying slapped her forehead and nodded repeatedly. "Right, that happened! And the one he killed was no ordinary person—it was the leader of the Stone Cultivators."
Li Banfeng asked, "What kind of lineage is Stone Cultivation?"
Hong Ying said, "A lineage as common as Stone Cultivators, and you've never seen one?"
Li Banfeng shook his head; he truly hadn't.
The old teapot rattled its lid. "Stone Cultivators are a lineage skilled in using stone. They can also turn their own bodies into stone. Because they balance offense and defense, they had quite a few practitioners in the early years. I heard Old Woman Bitter say that later on, the cultivators of that lineage were wiped out completely. No one knows who did it."
The companion dwelling fell quiet for a moment before Hong Ying ventured a guess: "When I was alive, there were so many Stone Cultivators. If that lineage really went extinct, could Shan Chengjun have been the one who did it?"
The Tang dao considered this, recollections surfacing continuously in its mind. "Put that way, it's very possible. Stone Cultivators are somewhat like Virtue Cultivators; they treat their lineage as a gang. Shan Chengjun killed their leader, forging a blood feud, so they must have slaughtered each other into a frenzy later on.
"Actually, that whole affair was quite bizarre. I remember Shan Chengjun and that Stone Cultivator leader were as close as brothers. What could they have fallen out over?"
Hong Ying pondered for a long time as well. "Back then, the rumors were flying everywhere, but I really can't recall the cause.
"Shan Chengjun was fickle and unpredictable. Today he was your friend, and tomorrow he might turn into your mortal enemy. I remember he had a lover, quite a famous woman. On a rainy day, when she was buying fish at the market, Shan Chengjun took off her head with a single slash of his conical hat."
The Tang dao swayed its blade. "I remember that too. Shan Chengjun killed quite a few people with his conical hat; that was his signature technique. Ai Yeqing always wore a conical hat too—he probably learned that straight from Shan Chengjun."
Hong Ying nodded repeatedly. "Wiping out the Stone Cultivators was almost certainly Shan Chengjun's doing. You mentioned Virtue Cultivators just now; I recall the Stone Cultivators had an exceptionally close relationship with them, and the two lineages even researched techniques together. When the Stone Cultivators faced ruin, didn't the Virtue Cultivators lend a hand?"
The Tang dao chuckled. "General Hong, you must be joking. When have Virtue Cultivators ever cared about anyone else's life or death?"
Li Banfeng stared at Hong Ying and the Tang dao for a long time. "You two have recovered this much memory?"
Hong Ying gave a bashful smile. "It's all thanks to Seventh Brother's loving care."
Li Banfeng said, "You because you ate Smiling Old Pincer, and the Tang dao because it consumed Shan Chengjun's intestines—that's how your memories returned?"
The Tang dao corrected him, "Not consumed—refined."
*Did it truly produce such great results?*
Li Banfeng sensed something unusual, but the old master's voice suddenly echoed by his ear: *"No need to worry. I'm watching over them. Attend to your proper business first."*
Attending to proper business meant practicing his technique, and the key right now was writing a solid composition.
The Judge's Brush also urged Li Banfeng, "Now that you've heard all that, write! Write more!"
Drawing upon Hong Ying's account, Li Banfeng added another line: *The man was valiant; in the heat of battle, every flex and curl of his ten fingers became a weapon.*
The Judge's Brush said, "That line isn't good—it lacks momentum. Use more paired clauses!"
*How can paired clauses be so easy to write?*
Envisioning the brutal battle Hong Ying had described, Li Banfeng penned a couplet:
*Treading mountains of corpses and seas of blood, snapping enemy shins into whistle arrows to shriek mournfully and break enemy ranks;*
*Crouching upon ruined tiles and crumbling walls, pulling enemy sinews into bowstrings to loose piercing cries and shatter men's courage.*
The Judge's Brush praised him: "Good! Keep going!"
Li Banfeng thought back to the pre-war rumors, flourishing his brush to write:
*In mundane teahouses and wine shops, bamboo chopsticks fly across to pierce metal and stone;*
*Amid the din of bustling market lanes, a conical hat spins suddenly to lop off heads.*
*Alliances by morning, betrayals by dusk, turning clouds to rain at a single thought;*
*Friends yesterday, foes today, the chill blade of the Yi River turns in the blink of an eye.*
The Judge's Brush declared, "It is done!"
Li Banfeng rubbed his temples, which throbbed with a dull ache.
Hong Ying said with concern, "Seventh Brother, don't write anymore. Let's take a good rest."
Li Banfeng rose and walked a few steps.
Hong Ying said, "Xiaowan is sound asleep. Why don't we take advantage of her absence and go for a stroll outside?"
The household members looked toward Hong Ying, their hearts full of disdain, yet none dared show it.
"Let's go, I'll take you out." Li Banfeng stepped out the door first, then used Broadening the Bridal Chamber to bring Hong Ying out.
Mengde huffed, "If the mistress finds out about this, she'll break her legs!"
The projector looked around to ensure the glove was absent, then quietly hid away the roll of film he had just shot.
Outside the companion dwelling, Li Banfeng smoothed out the description of Shan Chengjun and dripped a drop of blood onto the paper.
Hong Ying pouted in annoyance. "You brought me out just to do this? What fun is there in this?"
"I'm studying a technique. This is serious business." Li Banfeng watched for a moment as subtle ripples stirred across the paper's surface.
Hong Ying's face fell. "When others perform Sheltering a Beauty in a Golden House, they paint peerless beauties. The more beautiful the woman, the more formidable her arts. What kind of beauty is this Shan Chengjun of yours? What use could he possibly have?"
The Judge's Brush disagreed: "When the study of letters and martial arts reaches its pinnacle, that too is exceedingly beautiful."
Hong Ying scoffed, but then a tall, gaunt man rose from the paper.
Li Banfeng looked at him; his appearance was completely identical to Shan Chengjun's.
After looking him over, Hong Ying shook her head. "I'd say he's only thirty percent similar."
When Hong Ying had seen Shan Chengjun, it had been during the First Puluo War. After so many years, Shan Chengjun's appearance had undoubtedly changed.
This also confirmed something: the appearance of a text-figure depended largely on the Dwelling Cultivator's perception.
"Yingying, want to trade a few moves with him?" Li Banfeng manipulated the text-figure with his technique, wanting to test his combat strength.
Hong Ying was utterly dismissive. "Trade moves with this thing? I could lift a finger and he'd fall to pieces."
"Not necessarily!" Li Banfeng directed "Shan Chengjun" to charge at Hong Ying. Yet while still a dozen meters away, "Shan Chengjun" was intimidated by Hong Ying's aura and froze on the spot, motionless.
Hong Ying couldn't even be bothered to strike, looking at Li Banfeng with a smirk. "Convinced yet?"
Just as Li Banfeng was about to compliment her, he suddenly saw "Shan Chengjun" wheel around and charge straight at him.
*What is he doing?*
The Judge's Brush said, "'Alliances by morning, betrayals by dusk, turning clouds to rain at a single thought'—that line hit right on the mark!"
Li Banfeng silently agreed. Shan Chengjun possessed no concept of loyalty whatsoever. This matched his written description of Shan Chengjun, and it matched his perception of him as well.
Seeing the paper figure close in, Hong Ying sensed danger. "Seventh Brother, don't underestimate him!"
Li Banfeng had no intention of underestimating him.
Looking past Shan Chengjun, he stomped down with Trampling Countless Rivers.
Throughout the entire execution of the technique, he did not look at Shan Chengjun once. He simply wanted to see what the other side of the mountain looked like.
*Rumble!*
A plume of dust billowed upward. The text-figure Shan Chengjun left not a trace behind, pulverized straight into dust as fine as powder.
After waiting a good while, the dust gradually settled.
Hong Ying murmured in stunned admiration, "Seventh Brother, what a splendid technique!"
Chapter 762