Chapter 42 | Powering Up by Meddling in Other People's Business

“This old thing! His legs are fine, so why was he acting so pitiful?”

“To think I actually shed tears for him earlier. He’s just a fraud!”

The crowd erupted in accusations and insults toward the old beggar.

Chen Zui let go of the man’s leg, allowing the old beggar to slump onto the ground.

By now, Young Master Tang’s face was as dark as stagnant water, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

The guards behind him also took a step forward, their hands on their own blades as their eyes gleamed with murderous intent.

The atmosphere on the dock was a powder keg ready to explode.

Chen Zui acted as if he hadn't noticed. He glanced back at the old beggar still paralyzed on the ground and asked calmly, “Old sir, your legs are fine. Were those tears real or fake?”

The old beggar’s entire body jolted. He looked up, his lips trembling for a long while before he suddenly covered his face with his hands and let out a muffled, mournful wail.

“This old man... this old man had no choice...”

“Young Master Tang gave me one tael of silver to wait at the dock. He said that once his people caused a scene, I was to rush out and cry... This old man has a bedridden wife at home, and we were starving, so I...”

The onlookers broke into another uproar.

One tael of silver.

To put on a performance and tell a few lies for a single tael of silver. It had to be said that the wealthy were indeed generous.

But... why would this young master spend money to arrange such a charade?

“I know! This young master did this just to get into Qingya Academy!” someone in the crowd suddenly realized aloud.

“Now that you mention it, that’s actually very possible!”

The commoners’ discussions grew louder and louder. The looks they directed at the white-robed young master shifted from admiration to suspicion.

“Young Master, will you explain yourself, or should I do it for you?” Chen Zui stood his ground, arms crossed, looking like he was settling in to watch a good show.

The expressions on the white-robed young master’s face shifted through a kaleidoscope of emotions before finally settling into a light chuckle.

He raised a hand to smooth out the creases on his robe where the old beggar had grabbed him earlier.

His composure returned, but the eyes that had previously looked like warm jade now held nothing but a sharp, piercing chill.

Standing with his hands behind his back, he actually admitted to it quite openly.

“I am Tang Heqing, a legitimate son of the Tang family’s Third Branch. Next month, I will be participating in the triennial Caiqin Trial of Qingya Academy.”

The so-called Caiqin Trial was the entrance examination for Qingya Academy, its name derived from the classic poem: Pleasant is the Pan water, where we gather the cress.

“The academy’s rules state that one is not only tested on their knowledge of the classics and policy essays but also on their daily conduct and reputation. This move of mine was merely to accumulate a bit more of a good reputation for myself before enrollment.”

He paused, the corners of his mouth curling upward with a hint of disdain. “My friend, we are strangers to one another. Why must you ruin my good business? When walking the martial world, multiple friends mean multiple paths. If you pretend you saw nothing today, I naturally won't treat you poorly once I enter Qingya Academy.”

The surrounding commoners were in shock.

“The Tang family? Is it that Tang family?”

“Which other Tang family could it be? The one that ranks just below the Four Great Families!”

“So that’s it. No wonder he’s so generous; he’s a young master of the Tang family...”

“But this... paying people to act just to cheat his way to a reputation is far too dishonest, isn't it?”

Tang Heqing turned a deaf ear to them, merely looking at Chen Zui with a half-smile.

Several figures had silently appeared in the alley behind him, each with a sword or saber at their waist and steady breathing—clearly, they were all practiced martial artists.

“Well?” Tang Heqing spoke leisurely, his tone filled with a certain confidence, as if he were certain Chen Zui would be sensible enough to back down.

Chen Zui scratched his ear, hoisted his red-tasseled spear onto his shoulder, and grinned.

A flash of contempt flickered in Tang Heqing’s eyes. He was about to offer a few more polite platitudes when he saw the spear-wielding young man suddenly turn sideways and point toward the crowd of onlookers behind him, who were still holding their carrying poles and hoes.

“Since you say you want to accumulate a reputation for virtue, why don't you listen to what they have to say first?”

Tang Heqing looked in the direction he was pointing.

The admiration and praise that had filled the commoners' eyes earlier had vanished completely. In its place was the fury of people who had been played for fools.

An old woman selling vegetables spat on the ground. The porters tightened their grip on their poles. Even a lame old man selling sugar paintings tremulously moved his stall further back, as if being too close to Tang Heqing would soil his wares.

The Jiangnan region valued scholarly elegance and moral integrity above all else.

Under such constant exposure, even these common folk had developed a certain strength of character. What they loathed most were those who engaged in deceit and trickery. Regardless of whether one was a descendant of a prestigious family or a high official, if their conduct was improper, they were to be despised.

Watching this, the composure on Tang Heqing’s face finally began to crack, inch by inch.

“Fine. Very well,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

With a wave of his hand, the subordinates behind him drew their weapons simultaneously. The blades flashed with a cold, metallic light under the spring sun!

Chen Zui unhurriedly lowered the long spear from his shoulder. He casually yanked away the cloth wrapping, letting it scatter in the wind.

The tip of the spear flashed with a cold glint under the sun, echoing the chill of the surrounding blades.

“What? The act is ruined, so now you want to fight?” Chen Zui’s tone remained lazy, but his feet had already shifted into a stance, his center of gravity lowering.

He had come here to meddle in this business in the first place. When it came to fighting, he had never been afraid.

Young Master Tang’s expression was now hideous to the extreme.

He stared fixedly at Chen Zui and growled, “Just who are you? Why must you insist on opposing me?”

“It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that next time you put on a play, hire some people with better acting skills.” Chen Zui smiled before continuing, “By the way, what was that you said earlier about this being the duty of your generation of scholars?”

He paused, a faint trace of mockery in his voice. “If your Confucian sages heard those words, they probably wouldn't be able to keep their coffin lids shut.”

The veins on Tang Heqing’s forehead bulged as his sword slid three inches out of its scabbard. “Kill him!”

Just as both sides were at a breaking point, a clear, jade-like voice called out unhurriedly from outside the crowd.

“Wait, do not strike.”

The voice wasn't loud, yet it reached the ears of everyone present with perfect clarity.

What was even stranger was that the subordinates who had already drawn their weapons actually hesitated involuntarily upon hearing the voice, as if it carried some sort of irresistible power.

The crowd automatically parted to the sides.

A young scholar walked out from the parting tide of people.

He wore a faded green robe and carried a bamboo book box on his back. The lid of the box was slightly ajar, revealing a few stacks of yellowed scrolls inside.

The man appeared to be in his early twenties, with delicate features and a demeanor as warm as jade. He carried no sword and had no attendants; there wasn't a hint of a sharp edge about him. Yet, he possessed an innate aura that made people settle down involuntarily.

The street that had been boisterous and chaotic just a moment ago miraculously fell silent the moment he arrived. Even the porters holding their carrying poles unconsciously quieted their movements.