Chapter 121: The Master is the Patriarch

On the eighth day after Mo Ran's departure, Xue Zhengyong received his first letter.

Raccoon paper, the handwriting crooked, trying desperately to be correct, but to no avail.

"Uncle, don't worry, I'm here today at Prosperity Ferry and everything is fine. There was an evil spirit here a few days ago, but fortunately there were no casualties. I have already taken care of the water spirits that caused the trouble, and now the ferry is very peaceful. I have received 500 silver cheques from the boat captain and enclosed them with the letter. I wish to ask my aunt and master how they are doing."

One hundred and twentieth day, twenty-second letter.

"Uncle, please don't miss me. Recently, by chance, my nephew was able to obtain an extremely fine spirit stone. If I were to put it on Xue Meng's Dragoncity scimitar, it would be a weapon of unparalleled power, not quite the same as Shenwu's, but still very rare. Greetings to my aunt and my master."

One hundred and thirtieth day, twenty-fourth letter.

"Don't worry, uncle. Recently, I have been training in the Snow Valley, which is cold all day long and is prone to producing exotic flowers and trees. When I first came here, my nephew's spiritual power was low and my kung fu was not deep enough to pick them. These days, I have improved so much that I was able to break through their defences and pick a dozen of them, which I sent back with a letter. I would like to ask my aunt and master how they are doing."

The letters are often accompanied by a number of objects of interest, herbs and stones.

Apart from writing to Xue Zhengyong, Mo Ran would also write to Shi Mei privately, covering such trivial matters as what he had seen in the four corners of the world and asking for warmth and clothing.

The ink pen blotted on the paper, and from the beginning there were still mistakes, but later on, although the writing was not as good as it could be, it was straight and horizontal, and the structure became more and more mature, and there were fewer and fewer mistakes.

A year has passed since then.

On this day, Xue Zhengyong was drinking his new spring tea when he received another letter from Mo Ran.

He finished reading it with a smile and handed it to Madam Wang, who looked at it and laughed: "The boy's handwriting is getting prettier and prettier."

"Like a man's"

"Who's that?"

Xue Zhengyong blew on the tea leaves and looked for a collection of ancient knotted notes from the scrolls on his desk, "Look if Yu Heng's is not seven times more similar."

Mrs. Wang held the scroll and flipped through it, surprised, "It really does look like that."

"When he first came to the summit of death and life, he studied with Yu Heng. Yu Heng told him to read a book first, but he couldn't read a few words. Then Yu Heng taught him for some time, from his own name, to the simple ones, to the difficult ones." Xue Zhengyong shook his head, "He didn't learn carefully at that time, he was always just drawing charms, but now he's doing well."

Mrs. Wang laughed, "He should just go down the mountain and walk more, I see he's really calmed down a lot while he's out there."

Xue Zhengyong also laughed and said, "I wonder what he will look like after five years of travel. How old would he be then?"

"Twenty-two."

"Ugh." Xue Zhengyong sighed, seemingly with some emotion, "I thought Yu Heng would take them until they were twenty, but man's plans are not as good as God's."

Mo Ran thinks so too.

He has travelled from Jiangnan, the land of smoke and rain, to Dasan Pass in the north of the country. In the summer, he drank a sip of Vietnamese wine while sitting in the mash river, and in the winter, he listened to a Qiang flute around a fire.

In his previous life, after he had become emperor, the world was all his, but he never set foot on all the waters and mountains to see the fishing boats and lights in the east, or the flow of the kanji in the west, never looked closely at the dark feet of the footman carrying the burden on the stone road, the flesh cracked and the soles hard as iron. I have never heard the children in the reed pond babbling their voices, their voices are like cracked silk.

"The beautiful flowers are all in bloom, like this, but they are all in ruins"

He is no longer Fairy Tramper and will never be Fairy Tramper again in his life. He is

"Big brother." It was the soft voice of a child in the workshop, "Big brother, can you help me save this little bird? It has a broken wing and I, I don't know what to do."

"Little Your Mightiness ." This was the hoarse voice of the old village chief of Shishu, "Thank you, thank you, if it weren't for you, our village would be full of widows and orphans, and we would have had to leave our hometown when that demon was in turmoil. Your Mightiness, I will never forget your kindness."

"Good man." It was the trembling voice of a beggar met on the road, "Good man, we have not had a full meal for many days, please have mercy."

Mo Ran closes his eyes.

Opened again.

Because someone called him.

"Patriarch Mo."

He was somewhat stung by this address, and looked up at the dark man who addressed him in this way, rather helplessly: "I'm not a patriarch, my master is. Don't call me that again."

The man scratched his head nervously, "I'm sorry, everyone in the village calls you that, I know you don't like it, but I can't change it."

Mo Ran has been living in a village on the edge of Lower Fairy World for the past few days. A few miles away from the village stands a huge snowy mountain, where snow ghosts often come down to haunt. Unfortunately, the village was too remote for the Night Wanderer to benefit from, so he had no choice but to follow the map left behind by his master and try it out.

After many failures, he finally made his first one. The nightwalker he made was nowhere near as beautiful or as handy as his master's, but the wooden figure creaked and rattled and it worked.

This novelty delighted the poor villagers, who called him Master Mo, much to Mo Ran's embarrassment.

But more embarrassment is yet to come.

It was an evening when the setting sun stained half the sky red. He was walking along the bustling apricot grove path, returning from his studies at the Tai Shan Academy, when someone suddenly shouted.

" Master Chu "

When he heard this name, Mo Ran didn't even have time to think before he immediately turned back, and then he laughed at himself. There were so many magicians in the world with the surname Chu, and now he was listening to the wind and thinking that it was his master who had woken up early.

How can this be.

He smiled and shook his head, and was about to turn around when he heard another shout, " Master Chu "

""

Mo Ran was holding a pile of books and squinting at the crowd. Suddenly he saw someone waving to him, but he was too far away to get a good look at the man's face, only a rough idea of his clothes and physique.

The man soon approached, but when Mo Ran and he could make out each other's features, they both froze in unison.

"You are."

" Mo Ran ." He reacted before the other man, clutching his scroll and inconvenienced by his luggage, he nodded briefly, his eyes resting curiously on the young man's face for a moment, "I didn't expect to meet Mr. Nangong here, what a coincidence."

The man who called him 'Master Chu' was Nangong Si, the first son of the School of Confucianism.

Mo Ran had never met him in his previous life because he had died young, but unlike Chu Wanning, who had been a guest of the School of Confucianism, Nangong Si must have known him well. Mo Ran looked him up and down, pausing for a moment to look at the bag of arrows Nangong Si carried in his hand.

It was a very old cloth arrow capsule with an embroidered camellia pattern, which had faded over time, and the brightly coloured leaves were faintly yellowed, as if the fragrance embroidered on the cloth could not last forever and would one day fade.

Nangong Si's body is so bright and shiny, except for the arrow capsule, which is so torn that you can see the stitching clearly, and Mo Ran knows that this capsule must be precious to him, but who in this world does not have two or three things that are precious to him?

No one is as simple and heartless as they seem.

Nangong Si frowned: " Mo Ran remembered. Master Chu's disciple"

"Hmm."

In that case, Nangong Si's attitude was a little better and he said, "Sorry, I was far away. Looking at your figure and dress, I thought it was the Sovereign who had left the gate early and I didn't know."

Mo Ran took his gaze away from the arrow sac and did not ask too many questions unknowingly, but replied calmly, "Hearing you shout like that just now, I also thought it was the Master who had left the gate early, and I instead did not know."

Nangong Si smiles, perhaps because of his noble birth, but even when he laughs, there is still a certain arrogance between his handsome brows. His arrogance is different from that of Xue Meng, who is proud of his talent, but Nangong Si seems to be more hostile, a bit arrogant and irascible.

But he was extremely well-born, and this hostility did not make him frightening, but rather more wild.

Mo Ran can't help but think to himself, "Nangong Si, Nangong Si, what a free-spirited horse.

He was lost in thought when he heard Nangong Si say, "I was sad for a long time when Master Chu was tragically killed when the ghost world was split. When he wakes up, I will definitely visit him at the top of the world of death and life."

"Then I'll be waiting for you, Your Excellency."

Nangong Si waved his hand and suddenly saw the book in Mo Ran's hand and wondered, "What is brother Mo doing here?"

"Reading."

Nangong Si thought that he was talking about reading, he should be reading some obscure and difficult scrolls, but when he took a closer look, he found that they were just some classics such as the Book of Rites, and he was stunned at first, and then said, "These are all basic scriptures, I memorized them all when I was a child, what is the use of reading them"

Mo Ran was not ashamed, and with an open gaze said, "When I was a kid, I couldn't even write my own name."

"Ahem," Nangong Si said with some embarrassment, "I've enrolled in a school."

"Hmm. These days it just so happens that I have to collect some spirit stones for cultivation on Mount Tai, and seeing that the Apricot Grove Academy has opened a new lecture, I have nothing to do around here, so I came over to listen to it."

Nangong Si nodded his head and, seeing that it was getting late, said, "I see, brother Mo has not yet had dinner. Since you are here in the Confucianism School and you are a disciple of Master Chu, it is only natural that I should show my hospitality. My companion is waiting for me at a restaurant nearby, so why don't you join me for a drink?"

Mo Ran thought about it and decided there was nothing to do anyway, so he said, "I'd be happy to."

"The Dancing Summer House. One of the most famous restaurants in the Linyi area. They make the best fatty sausages.

"How come I've never heard of it." Mo Ran laughed, "One of the best restaurants in Upper Fairy World. You're a good choice of place, Mr Nangong."

"I didn't pick the place."

"Oh, that's..."

Nangong Si said, "My companion picked it out."

As someone who had lived a lifetime, Mo Ran was more or less aware of the intricacies of the Confucianism School and, although he kept his mouth shut, he was surprised and thought to himself: "Ye Wangxi is here too!

But as he followed Nangong Si up to the restaurant, he lifted the beaded curtain of his room and stepped inside. The person inside nearly choked him

Song Qiutong, dressed in a lightly robed plain dress, was at the window. The peach blossoms were in full bloom outside, and she turned around at the sound of her voice.

Mo Ran's half-foot, which had gone in, subconsciously retracted.

He wondered if it was too late to tell Nangong Si that he didn't like Lu cuisine, especially fatty sausages with nine turns.