I proved immortality through the imperial examination.

Chapter 206 The Older Generation

As soon as Kuangzhan finished speaking, Shen Sanshan and Wei Fan moved to the table at the same time.

A few breaths later, the two stepped back at the same time.

Wei Fanchong and Xue Xiang nodded, clearly confirming Kuangzhan's statement.

The entire venue erupted instantly.

"At that time, it was a many-to-one confrontation, and no one checked the numbers."

"But this madman isn't a Confucian scholar. Even if he offers the wish cake, what can he do?"

"........."

Shen Sanshan perked up, stared at the Mad Warrior, and said loudly, "Even if you've given up the wish cake, the competition is over. What are you going to do about it?"

"The competition is over, that's for sure."

He said slowly, "But that was just the end of their duel."

Did Xue Xiang ask me even one question from beginning to end?

His gaze swept across the entire arena, filled with aggression. "I only have one rule: if I offer my wish cake, according to the previously established rules, I will qualify for the battle."

The hall was completely silent.

Mad Warrior continued, "Just now Xue Xiang said that as long as one of the challengers defeats him, he will be considered the loser."

You all heard it clearly.

He stepped forward, his golden eyes flashing with light, "I, the Madman, have not yet admitted defeat, this duel is not over yet!"

The crowd erupted in an instant.

"Nonsense!"

"What business is a mere barbarian having disrupting this literary gathering!"

"The debate has already been decided; why continue with this unreasonable argument?"

"Can he even read? How dare he come here and make a fool of himself?"

“Everyone who participated in the war was a man of great learning, yet they were all no match for Bei Qiu Ke, a mere barbarian. It’s utterly absurd.”

Angered shouts rose and fell, and many Confucian scholars blushed and denounced the madman's rudeness.

However, a few calm and composed voices also came from the crowd.

"What Berserker said makes sense."

“Once the rules are established, everyone should be treated equally. Anyone who has offered a wishing cake is entitled to challenge.”

"This matter involves more than twenty wishing cakes, worth far more than a thousand gold pieces. How can we just let it go?"

Those who spoke up were mostly officials and Confucian scholars from prominent families, and they naturally disliked Xue Xiang.

Shen Sanshan lightly tapped his folding fan, turning his gaze to Xue Xiang. "According to the previous agreement, anyone who offers a wish cake is qualified to challenge. This agreement was made in full view of everyone and cannot be ambiguous."

However, the madman's roar in the hall was extremely rude and went against the original intention of the literary gathering.

"Xue Xiang, if you are unwilling to fight, I can also help you by banishing the Berserker."

Shen Sanshan was certain that Xue Xiang would not back down.

A literary reputation is like a golden statue; it is difficult to forge, but can be destroyed in an instant.

If Xue Xiang were to avoid war, those scions of noble families would all take the initiative to slander him.

To be granted the highest honor in the world naturally entails the heaviest burden.

Unfazed by the wind, Xue Xiang said loudly, "Since Lord Shen says to follow the rules, then let us follow the rules."

He strode forward, meeting the berserker's gaze. "How do you want to compete?"

Berserker's lips curled slightly. "A contest of magic?"

He shook his cloak, revealing his mountain-like shoulders. "I was not good at poetry, but after listening for a while, I learned it too."

Since everyone says today is a gathering of refined scholars, and we should compete in poetry and prose, then let us compete in poetry and prose.

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone present was astonished.

"He wants to have a poetry contest with Xue Xiang...?"

"Has this barbarian gone mad?"

"The madman's family has produced sages like his ancestors, but they have long since gone astray, using killing to prove their way. How could they understand poetry?"

"That's ridiculous. They said they learned how to write poetry after listening for just a short while."

Ignoring the crowd, the Berserker slowly raised his head, his golden eyes coldly sweeping over them.

The laughter vanished almost instantly as my gaze swept over it.

He stared coldly at Xue Xiang. "Further words are useless. Surely a man of noble birth, like the one who laments autumn's passing, wouldn't be afraid of battle?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it was like thunder rumbling through the air, making the lamplight tremble slightly.

Xue Xiang looked at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

He knew in his heart that there weren't many reckless men in this world.

Berserker may look rough and tough, but since he dared to provoke us at this juncture, he must have a backup plan.

But since it was a competition of poetry and prose, Xue Xiang couldn't find a reason to avoid the battle.

"Since you've offered the wishing cake, I'll gladly oblige. You'll set the question, or will someone else?"

Xue Xiang said loudly.

"It's not that troublesome."

With a wave of his hand, Kuangzhan produced a black board, about a foot square, in his palm.

The surface of the board was as dark as an abyss, with a thin layer of silver light flowing around the edges, neither gold nor iron.

He held the board with both hands, his expression solemn.

The next moment, he extended his right index finger and slowly moved it across the board.

As the fingertip touched the ground, it emitted a low "humming" sound.

With each stroke of his pen, an invisible ripple of qi spread through the air, like a knife or a wave, forcing the scholars closest to him to subconsciously take a half-step back.

Everyone looked horrified.

Someone exclaimed in surprise, "He's...writing with his fingers?"

"What's so strange about that? Once you've cultivated to the Foundation Establishment stage, whose palm can't cut through gold and jade?"

"No, look! There's a tremor of qi in the air. This is the mysterious light formed when you exert your strength to the extreme and your blood and qi surge to boiling point."

"This, this board?"

"That's the 'Mysterious Embryo Iron Mother'!"

An old scholar squinted and stared intently, then suddenly exclaimed in surprise.

A commotion immediately broke out in the hall.

"Mysterious Embryo Iron Mother? That's a top-tier material that even divine weapons can't damage!"

"I have heard that this thing is harder than black gold, and it does not change color after being refined by fire. Only by infusing it with true qi can it leave a mark."

"This person actually carved a poem on it with his finger? Isn't that like using his own body as a soldier?!"

Berserker remained expressionless, writing each stroke of his finger carefully.

With each stroke of the pen, a deep golden crack would appear on the board.

Everyone in the hall held their breath.

That scene was both eerie and solemn.

It's like a wild, untamed world, where poetry is being recited in the most primitive way.

With each stroke of the Berserker's brush, the air trembled, and even the lamps on the roof beams swayed slightly.

"This...this is still called Wenbi?"

Someone murmured softly.

"That's clearly training soldiers with their own bodies!"

The people in the hall had different expressions, a mixture of shock and barely suppressed awe.

A scholar in blue robes exclaimed, "What a terrifying physique! He used his true energy to leave a mark on the Mysterious Embryo Iron Mother!"

Another old scholar added, "This is not ordinary brute force. He has condensed his inner energy into his blood vessels and used that energy as his weapon. If I am not mistaken, this person is practicing the 'Sun-Devouring Body Refining Technique' from the White Bone Secret Land."

As soon as these words were spoken, the crowd was in an uproar.

"The Sun-Swallowing Body Refining Technique? That's a legendary secret method!"

It is said that the Kuang family of the White Bone Secret Land nurtured their bones with the blood of demonic beasts from a young age, supplemented by marrow-refining energy, and tempered their muscles and bones daily. By the age of nine, they could shatter stone with their bare hands, and by fifteen, they could break gold with their bare hands!

"I've heard that their clan's flesh and blood can withstand spiritual weapons, their bones and muscles are as strong as iron, and when they cultivate to the great perfection, their defense is so strong that even a full-force attack from a Nascent Soul cultivator would hardly harm them."

The discussion spread far and wide, eliciting gasps of amazement.

Everyone finally understood that the person in front of them was not an ordinary barbarian at all, but a demon god who used his body as a furnace and his blood as a weapon.

Before long, the berserker finally stopped.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, sliding down his cheeks and wetting his neck.

His black cloak was soaked with sweat and clung to his back, revealing his strong muscles.

With each breath, his chest heaved like an iron drum, as if even the air was being scorched by his heat.

There was deathly silence in the hall.

Everyone looked at the "Mysterious Iron Mother," and saw that the engravings on it were like interwoven golden threads, with flowing light patterns and faintly vibrating energy.

Xue Xiang's heart stirred slightly—the board was still emitting lingering energy, indicating that his true strength had not been dissipated and his brushstrokes remained.

Someone swallowed hard, took a few steps forward cautiously, and wanted to see what the poem was about.

But upon closer inspection, the man's expression turned strange.

He hesitated for a long time before finally reading it aloud with a wry smile:

"I love women, but women don't love me. Raise your spear and kill, kill, kill, kill!"

The audience was silent.

The next moment, someone burst out laughing, and the laughter immediately spread in waves.

"This...this is considered poetry?"

"Hahahaha! What a magnificent Vajra Spear! It certainly has a murderous aura, but it's completely devoid of any scholarly spirit!"

"The overwhelming desire throughout the poem actually aligns with the unbridled nature of wild beasts, haha..."

"........."

Laughter filled the hall, and could be heard even outside the building.

Only the berserker remained expressionless.

He stood still, letting the crowd laugh and jeer, but the golden light in his eyes grew colder and sharper.

It's as if that extremely crude poem hides a sharp edge.

Suddenly, the laughter stopped abruptly, as if an invisible hand had grabbed its throat.

The crowd gradually noticed something amiss. There was a heavy, almost stagnant sense of oppression emanating from the Xuan Tai Iron Mother, which was merging into the air, like a mountain slowly sinking.

Suddenly, the black iron mother plate emitted a deep hum.

The markings on them, which should have been just engravings, now glowed with a dark red light.

Every stroke of the character "杀" (kill) trembled.

That tremor wasn't from airflow, but rather—from the resonance of blood and qi.

"That's... a surge of true energy!"

"He wasn't emitting literary energy when he wrote the poem; he was refining his inner energy!"

"........."

Most of the people in the audience were intelligent, and they had long guessed that Kuang Zhan was ostensibly competing with Xue Xiang in poetry and prose, but in reality, he was subtly testing Xue Xiang's finger strength and cultivation.

Although everyone, including Xue Xiang, had long seen through this, they were still deeply shocked by the berserker's violent power.

At this moment, every "kill" character on the Xuan Tai Iron Mother was like a node where blood and qi exploded.

The five "kill" sounds rang out in unison, frantically revealing their murderous intent.

His black robe billowed, his hair flew like iron wire, and his eyes blazed with golden light.

Blood energy surged and turned into mist, sweeping across the entire Red Mansion, even causing the protective runes to vibrate and hum.

"What a strong momentum!"

"Truly worthy of being a descendant of sages!"

"Now, the Autumn-Sorrowful Traveler is in trouble."

Ignoring the clamor of the crowd, Kuangzhan flipped the Xuan Tai Iron Mother over with a "snap," producing a crisp, metallic sound.

"It's your turn."

His golden eyes, like two burning flames, were fixed on Xue Xiang.

Xue Xiang stood still, his expression calm and serene.

Kuang Zhan chuckled, his voice low and contemptuous: "What? You call yourself the 'Autumn Lamenter,' a poetic genius like a Buddha, you wouldn't dare to put pen to paper in front of me, would you? Haha..."

He suddenly threw his head back and burst into laughter, the sound so loud it hit the roof and made the lights inside the building tremble.

"Hahaha! So the so-called 'autumnal lamenter' is nothing more than this."

Young men from prominent families echoed loudly in agreement.

Shen Sanshan used all his strength to barely hold back and not utter a sarcastic remark.

Berserker slowly stretched out his hand and raised one finger.

"I'll count to ten. If you still don't start writing, then I win."

He grinned maliciously and pointed to the wishing cakes and morning and evening dew on the table, "In time, these will all be mine."

After saying that, he licked his lips, his golden eyes filled with greed.

"This is not fair!"

"We agreed to compete in poetry and prose, so why are we comparing finger strength now?"

"You can't say that. Kuang Zhan wrote the poems and essays, so it's fine for Xue Xiang to copy them." "That's right. Since Xue Xiang is so arrogant and disdainful of everyone, he has to accept the result."

"........."

The voices of support and opposition were deafening.

Berserker slowly raised his finger and began to count, "One..."

His voice boomed, like a hammer striking a drum.

"two."

The air trembled slightly, and the beams and pillars of the Red Building seemed to hum.

"Three, four, five..."

Each number, like a resounding drumbeat, struck the hearts of everyone.

When the count reached "eight", Xue Xiang finally moved.

He slowly stepped forward and walked to the piece of Xuan Tai Iron Mother. Everyone held their breath and focused their attention on his fingertips.

Xue Xiang raised his hand, his fingertips gently falling.

With a soft "click," it almost blended into the air.

In that instant, heaven and earth stood still.

There was no protective aura, no ripples, not even a wisp of air was stirred up.

It was as if the black iron mother was originally the surface of the water, and what he fell was just a dewdrop.

"This is impossible!"

An uproar erupted in the crowd.

The scions of noble families who had been loudly mocking them were all stunned.

Even Shen Sanshan's expression changed drastically.

Berserker's pupils suddenly contracted. He refused to believe it. "You dare to use spiritual power?"

He took two steps forward abruptly, his breath almost touching Xue Xiang's body, sensing the surface of the iron mother.

Unfortunately, there was no spiritual energy fluctuation.

Veins bulged on Kuangzhan's forehead, his voice filled with disbelief and rage: "Then what kind of body-refining technique do you cultivate! No, this is impossible, there can't be anything in the world that can surpass my ancestral body-refining technique..."

Xue Xiang ignored the frenzied battle and wielded his fingers like flowing clouds.

He wrote extremely quickly, without showing any of the disheveled feeling of being drenched in sweat like a madman.

In a short while, a poem was completed.

Someone bent down to look closely and recited aloud:
"Do not listen to the sound of rain pattering through the trees; why not chant and stroll leisurely?"

With bamboo staff and straw sandals, I travel lighter than on horseback; who cares? I'll let the rain and mist of life take their course.

The chilly spring breeze sobered me up; it was slightly cold, but the slanting sunlight on the mountaintop welcomed me.

Looking back at the desolate place I came from, returning, there is neither wind nor rain, neither sunshine nor gloom.

As the chanting ended, the entire hall fell silent, save for the sound of the wind tugging at the curtains.

The entire audience held their breath for a full twenty seconds.

Song Huaizhang's eyes shone brightly. He slammed his hand on the table and stood up, proclaiming loudly, "The Lamenter of Autumn is truly a peerless genius! Every word he utters is a masterpiece!"

"My Canglan Academy is ranked first in the Literary Examination, and it should be able to surpass all other academies."

"Today's grand feast with those who are saddened by autumn is an honor."

"........."

The whole place was in an uproar.

Shen Sanshan was heartbroken and didn't know how to avenge his beloved concubine.

This man surnamed Xue is incredibly powerful.

He thought to himself that even if he were in this situation, he would definitely not be able to solve it.

"Yuanjun, is this Xue Langjun even human?"

Xuejian leaned close to Princess Yong's ear and whispered a question.

Princess Yong's face was flushed as if she were drunk, and her passion seemed to seep into the chilly spring breeze of the poem, leaving her unable to answer.

Wei Fanle fiddled with his pipe, listening to the flattery from the crowd with a smile. After all, he was Xue Xiang's mentor.

The murmurs in the hall rose like a tidal wave, almost lifting the roof off.

Soon, the praise turned into ridicule.

Someone slammed their hand on the table and burst into laughter: "These barbarians from the land of white bones dare to compare their poetry with that of a melancholy autumn traveler?"

"His 'kill kill kill kill kill' style is probably going to be featured in 'The Butcher's Poetry Anthology'!"

"The Mysterious Iron Mother is indeed a priceless treasure, but unfortunately, what the barbarians wrote on it is all a joke!"

The madman's face was as cold as iron, his eyes were as sharp as blades, yet he remained silent, the veins on the back of his hands bulging as if he wanted to crush the Xuan Tai Iron Mother to pieces.

He roared, shaking the entire arena, "You surnamed Xue, don't think you've won."

I only used 30% of my strength. We'll see who prevails tomorrow when we witness the grand ceremony at the monument.

My elder brother is Kuang Beiming, and the former dynasty's emperor's son, Wang Baxian, have all come to him. I hope you can still be so arrogant then.

Having said that, he flung his berserker cloak and vanished in a flash, leaving behind a chorus of condemnation.

After the madman retreated, a large number of Confucian scholars rushed to Xue Xiang's side in the hall.

Some people were holding their poems, while others held up folding fans with beaming smiles.

"The author of 'Lamenting Autumn' is a man of great talent. Please allow me to present one of my works. If it can be included in the anthology, I will be extremely fortunate."

"Please take a look, Brother Xue. My 'Travels in Beishan' may not be as good as yours, but it has its own charm."

"Brother Xue, I wrote a seven-character quatrain titled 'Spring River Moonlit Night,' please offer your corrections..."

In a short while, he was surrounded by layers of people, with almost nowhere left to retreat.

Someone gently tugged at my cuff, and my clothes were damp with the scent of ink. All around was a cacophony of noise and bustle.

Someone shouted, pointing fingers at others: "Wait! Brother Feng Jing, you haven't offered any cakes, so how can you submit your article? If everyone does this, wouldn't it disrupt the rules?"

"Yes, we did offer our wish cakes. Brother Xue only said he would collaborate with us challengers on a joint writing project. What are you all doing here interfering?"

"........."

Xue Xiang's ears were ringing from the noise. When faced with the wonderful opportunity to promote his literary reputation, even the most aloof scholar couldn't resist the temptation.

Helpless, Xue Xiang had no choice but to hand over the task of collecting poems and essays to Song Huaizhang, and only then did he finally get some peace and quiet.

He had just squeezed out of the crowd when he could no longer find Princess Yong.

Just as he was about to catch his breath, someone else came towards him.

Wei Fan transmitted his voice to him, "Kid, you've come into this world of fame and fortune, enjoy it while you can."

Don't pretend to be high-minded.

"Having more friends always makes life easier, especially if you've offended so many powerful families. If you don't cultivate a wider network, your path will become narrower."

Xue Xiang deeply agreed.

At that moment, he patiently interacted with everyone.

Two hours later, he finally managed to escape.

When Xue Xiang came out of the manor, it was already dark, and the air still carried the lingering scent of ink.

"Young Master Xue".

Xue Xiang turned his head.

Then Xue Jian walked over quickly. "I've been waiting for you for a while. Yuan Jun has to rush back to Shenjing tonight and won't have time to say goodbye."

But Yuanjun has already made arrangements for you with the Xue family.

Elders from the Xue family also arrived and have already taken Xue Shizhao away.

That elder from the Xue family wants to have a chat with you. He's at the Wanglan Inn, in the private room on the east side of the second floor.

Yuanjun instructed, "He is a respectable elder; you'll understand once you talk to him."

Yuan Jun also said, "A wise man should understand the subtle differences between right and wrong."

After saying that, Xue Jian waved to Xue Xiang, "I'm in a hurry. By the way, could you please update two more chapters of 'Wrong Carriage, Right Groom'?"

Xue Xiang smiled nonchalantly, his snow sword untouched by dust, his green robes billowing in the wind. With a flash, his figure disappeared into the depths of the streetlights, leaving only a faint fragrance drifting away on the breeze.

Wanglan Inn is located in the west of the city, next to a narrow waterway.

In the night, the streetlights reflected on the water, and when the wind blew, they shattered into a layer of golden scales.

Xue Xiang went up to the second floor, where the door to the east wing was half-closed. The room was simply furnished, with a small nanmu wood table, a few blue lamps, and an old landscape painting hanging on the wall, the ink slightly faded.

The wind from outside seeped in through the gaps in the bamboo blinds, causing the candlelight to flicker and carrying a faint scent of bamboo.

He pushed open the door and went inside.

An elderly man had already settled down behind the table. His hair and beard were gray, his clothes were simple, and his gaze was calm.

Surprisingly, his face was as smooth as a baby's on the left and as weathered as rotten wood on the right.

The man exuded a strange sense of emptiness, which amazed Xue Xiang.

Xue Xiang stared at the old man, and the old man also stared at Xue Xiang in a daze. After a long while, he said, "You and Yuan Shan are so similar back then. You are a descendant of my Xue family."

Xue Xiang frowned slightly, his face stern, and cupped his hands, saying, "Old sir, what advice do you have for me?"

The old man sighed, his expression darkening. "My name is Xue Antai. By seniority, I am your great-uncle; by blood, your grandfather and I share the same grandfather."

He paused, his gaze darkening slightly. "I know you don't want to hear this, but some things have to be said."

"Let me start with the first thing," he said gently. "You don't need to worry too much about Xue Shizhao's matter. That kid is blinded by greed and acted on his own initiative without the family's permission. He is acting erratically because he is a direct descendant of the main branch of the family. I have already sent someone to bring him back to the Imperial Clan Court for questioning."

He reached out and pushed a plate of sesame seed cakes on the table. Xue Xiang didn't take them, but he picked one up and took a small bite. "Secondly, the Xue family is indeed interested in you. A rising star like you would be hailed as a hot prospect in any family."

However, you have left a very poor impression on the major clans. The balance between these clans is delicate, and the Xue family is unwilling to get involved in these feuds. Therefore, they will not welcome you into the Xue family, but they will not be your enemy either.

As he spoke, Xue Antai took out a gray wooden box and gently pushed it over, saying, "This is your ancestral book."

Xue Xiang's eyes lit up.

He competed with Xue Shiyi and Xue Shizhao, always yielding to them, all because he was bound by this ancestral book.

This matter concerns the imperial examinations, which could determine whether his path in the civil service examinations could continue. He had no choice but to act cautiously and with great restraint.

He never dreamed that the Xue family would take the initiative to send him their ancestral books.

Xue Antai said, "In addition, your father's remains can be buried in the clan mausoleum. Your mother will also be included in the family genealogy and recorded as your father's principal wife."

If you have any needs regarding cultivation, please let us know. The family will actively provide resources.

Xue Antai then showered Xue Xiang with three more big gift packages, which made Xue Xiang quite excited.

The first two were things that Xue's mother always kept in mind.

Thirdly, Xue Xiang did not value the cultivation resources provided by the Xue family. This was because he did not lack ordinary resources, and the resources he valued were ones the Xue family might not be able to afford.

Xue Xiang remained silent for a moment, staring at the gray wooden box, and slowly spoke: "After saying so much, what does the Xue family want?"

Xue Antai looked at him calmly, "They ask for nothing else. They only hope that one day, if you truly rise to a high position, you will remember that you come from the Xue family of Jiangzuo. That's all."

Xue Xiang nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "You've got a very good plan. The reason you won't let me return now is because you're afraid of being implicated and giving those powerful families an excuse to make trouble. If I really make a name for myself, you can use that to your advantage and say that someone from the Xue family has become a prominent figure."

There's no risk in either direction; this bet was well placed.

Xue Xiang paused for a moment, then said, "However, this is fair. If I were in charge, I would have done the same."

Xue Antai smiled slightly, picked up a few crumbs from the table, and put them in his mouth. "You are really different from the young people in the Xue family. You are smart, but not willful, and you have a broad perspective."

"Senior, you flatter me. It's just a transaction. I'm very satisfied with the offer from the Xue family, and I will naturally fulfill the agreement."

Xue Xiang was telling the truth; he had no real connection with the Xue family of Jiangzuo.

The Xue family of Jiangzuo gave him and his mother everything they wanted and made it clear what they wanted.

Xue Xiang thought it was reasonable, so the deal was done.

"Now that we've finished discussing business, shall we chat a bit more?"

Xue Antai finally finished eating a sesame seed cake.

"What advice do you have for me, senior?"

Xue Xiang noticed that Xue Antai always referred to the Xue family as "they," as if he and the Xue family were not on the same level.

Xue Antai shook his sleeves, poured himself another cup of tea, and looked at Xue Xiang. "What realm have you reached in your cultivation?"

Xue Xiang was taken aback. "My cultivation is nothing to mention."

He spoke in a calm tone, avoiding a direct answer.

Xue Antai stared at him for a moment, a half-smile on his face, "How old do you think I am?"

Xue Xiang glanced at him. Although the old man's hair and beard were white, his eyes were as deep as an ancient well, his skin was half bright and half withered, and his aura was both weak and strong, as if he showed no signs of decay.

He shook his head. "I can't tell."

Xue Antai sighed softly and put down his teacup. "I'm eighty-five this year."

He raised his hand and pointed to the night outside the window, his tone calm, "Thirteen years ago, I had already entered the Nascent Soul stage."

Xue Xiang was startled and jumped to his feet.

The highest level of cultivation he had encountered on his journey was only the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul stage.

The Transformation into a Divine Being is a legendary realm, a being capable of surveying thousands of miles with divine consciousness and resonating with the will of heaven and earth.

The strange old man in front of me claims to be at the Nascent Soul Realm. This is terrifying.

Is the Xue family of Jiangzuo truly so profound?

After a moment of silence, he bowed respectfully, his expression solemn, "Senior's cultivation is extraordinary, and I have been negligent and disrespectful."

This is a sign of respect for the strongest individuals.

Xue Antai smiled and waved his hand, saying, "There's no need for us to stand on ceremony. I admire you greatly. If I had your poetic talent back then, I would never have ended up like this."

"Compared to you, senior, my skills are like a firefly compared to the bright moon."

Xue Xiang had a big smile on his face.

Xue Antai looked at him and suddenly laughed, the smile lines sinking into his half-old face. "To be honest, I still prefer your previous unruly self."

(End of this chapter)