The Ugly Hag finished the soup in her bowl, set it down, and took out a handkerchief to dab the corners of her mouth.
No light flickered from her body, nor did any phenomenon appear.
She simply smacked her lips and offered a critique: “In the matter of soup, from the high lords down to the common folk, there is no distinction of rank. Having this bowl today, I finally understand the weight of those four words: harmonizing the cauldron and the tripod.”
Chen Zhou was slightly disappointed.
Could it be that the luck of the Auspicious Noble had failed?
Jiu'er was sitting next to the Ugly Hag, burying his head in his food just like Piao. Feeling the Lord’s gaze, he looked up, his mouth stained with sauce, and blinked with a dazed expression.
Never mind.
Chen Zhou withdrew his gaze and began to calculate in his mind.
Since he couldn't replicate another Wenchang Noble, he had to consider the second plan: taking Tao Tuantuan to Xuandu to be evaluated.
Tao Tuantuan was a Wenchang Noble herself; her destiny was already established, so there was no need to rely on the luck of Pao Ding Carving an Ox.
The problem was, given Tao Tuantuan’s personality, could she successfully pass the three trials of the Xuandu Ghost Mansion?
Xuandu had said that his standards would not be lowered; only by passing all three trials could one inherit the ghost mansion.
With a temperament like Tao Tuantuan’s—lacking hatred as a driving force and constantly pretending to be dead—asking her to charge through the trials… To be honest, Chen Zhou had no confidence in her.
As he was deep in thought, a series of proud, devious cackles suddenly erupted from the Plague Rat at the next table.
“Hahahaha! Baldy! You lost! You lost again!”
The Plague Rat jumped up from his chair and snatched the wine cup from in front of Wu Gou, holding it up like a trophy. His rat tail curled up excitedly, wagging back and forth behind him.
His luck today was simply too good. This little baldy, Wu Gou, had been losing all day. He had no idea how many pots the monk had drunk, but surely he was about to collapse.
Sitting opposite him, Wu Gou’s handsome face was indeed a bit pale, but his expression remained calm.
He reached out, pulled another fresh jar of sophora wine from under the table, and poured himself a cup. Tilting his head back, he gulped it down with a series of loud swallows.
Then he set the cup down, let out a wine burp, and poured another cup, pushing it forward.
The Plague Rat’s smile froze on his face.
He looked down at the cup in front of him—his own wine wasn't even finished yet, but Wu Gou had already downed another.
A row of empty wine jars was piled on the table, at least seven or eight of them, all emptied by Wu Gou alone.
Yet this little baldy’s expression didn't change at all; he was even chanting sutras more fluently than usual. Holding his wine cup, the Plague Rat fell into a deep state of self-doubt.
He felt like he was being played.
“I’m not playing anymore!”
Flustered and exasperated, the Plague Rat shoved the wine cup onto the table and turned to leave.
He took two steps, then felt it wasn't enough to vent his frustration. He turned back and pointed at Wu Gou, cursing, “You baldy! You have more schemes than a lotus root has holes!”
Wu Gou pressed his palms together and gave a beaming Buddhist invocation: “Amitābha. All is fair in war.”
The Plague Rat was so angry his whiskers curled. He turned and ran off to harass Poison-Wing instead.
Poison-Wing was sprawled on the table, mouth wide open, waiting for Su Xue to feed him.
Su Xue was using chopsticks to pick up a piece of golden Buddha meat. Just as she was about to put it into Poison-Wing’s mouth, the Plague Rat suddenly lunged from the side and hooked his arm around Poison-Wing’s neck.
“Little Ten! Drink with Lord Rat!”
Poison-Wing was nearly strangled, almost spitting out the meat in his mouth. He coughed and struggled: “Are you crazy? Let go of me!”
“I won't! Lord Rat is in a bad mood today! You must drink with me!”
“Sister Su Xue, help—help—!!”
The two of them tangled into a mess at their seats, creating a chaotic scene. Su Xue sighed from the side and silently popped the piece of golden Buddha meat into her own mouth.
This table was filled with people Chen Zhou didn't have much hope for.
Poison-Wing had a Calamity destiny, which had absolutely nothing to do with Wenchang.
Su Xue was a Heavenly Doctor Noble; although she was also an auspicious god, her path was completely different from Wenchang’s.
Tuoba Feng came from a line of grave-keepers and had a limited education; it was already impressive enough that he could recognize words.
The others also more or less had nothing to do with Wenchang, but Chen Zhou wasn't one to play favorites. Since the delicacies were prepared, everyone got a share.
Jian Huaishuang picked up his bowl and drank calmly, his deathly face showing no change.
He set the bowl down and continued to rest with his eyes closed. Bai and Xiaoye, however, were very interested in the soup.
Each of them served themselves a bowl and finished it with giggles and laughter. Then, they grabbed Jian Huaishuang’s sleeves from both sides.
“Master, Master! I feel like my comprehension has increased ten thousand times!”
“Me too! It’s increased for me too! Master, teach us sword techniques, quickly!”
Jian Huaishuang opened his eyes and looked down at the two of them, remaining silent for a breath.
In their current state, without entering their Impermanence Body forms, the two looked only about ten years old. Jian Huaishuang stood up, grabbed one in each hand, and lifted the two brats as he walked toward the backyard drill grounds.
“Since your comprehension has increased, you will practice for an extra three hours tonight.”
“Huh?”
“No, Master!”
“Don't call me Master. I’ve never taken disciples.”
The screams of the two brats gradually faded into the distance.
Seeing that the Plague Rat was no longer playing the finger-guessing game with him, Wu Gou stood up and walked over to Song Zi'an.
Song Zi'an was squatting in front of the stove adding firewood, his face flushed red by the firelight.
Wu Gou patted his shoulder and pointed at the large cauldron.
“Little benefactor, serve a bowl for this poor monk as well.”
Song Zi'an hurriedly stood up, took a clean jade bowl, and filled it to the brim for Wu Gou.
Wu Gou took the bowl and didn't stand on ceremony. He raised it and gulped it all down; when it came to good food, he never refused.
Wu Gou drank the soup even faster than he drank wine; the bowl of flat peach soup hit the bottom in just a few mouthfuls.
Then he smacked his lips, about to comment on the flavor.
Suddenly, he froze.
Wu Gou looked down at his hands, then at the residue at the bottom of the bowl. A trace of confusion appeared on his small face.
Immediately after, a golden light burst forth from within his body.
The light was not blinding; instead, it was very soft, like the first rays of sunlight at dawn.
Within the light, countless tiny characters emerged—ancient seal script, Sanskrit characters, and even some ancient scripts that not even Duke Wen or the Ugly Hag could recognize. These characters seemed alive, slowly rotating around Wu Gou, growing brighter with every revolution.
The entire courtyard fell silent.
Everyone stopped their chopsticks and turned to look at him.
The Plague Rat, who had been wrestling with Poison-Wing, suddenly felt the light behind him. He turned around and froze.
He let go of Poison-Wing’s neck and walked step by step toward Wu Gou, sizing him up. The expression on his face shifted from shock to disbelief, and then from disbelief to deep suspicion.
“No way, right?”
“T-That’s not right! Baldy, did you hit the jackpot? You became a Wenchang Noble? Is there a mistake somewhere?”
Poison-Wing rubbed his neck as he scrambled up from the ground, equally dazed. “What is a Wenchang Noble?”
Su Xue explained softly, “You haven't been to Tianchi Province, so you wouldn't know. That Miss Tao Tuantuan over there is also a Wenchang Noble.”
“When Wenchang enters one's destiny, it brings flourishing literary fortune and scholarly mastery.”
“Those with the Wenchang destiny are born with extraordinary intelligence and photographic memories; they can perceive the principles of all things and master the teachings of a hundred schools.”
Poison-Wing was even more bewildered. “Then what does that have to do with the baldy? Isn't he just a meat-and-wine monk?”
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