The Path of the Martial Arts BOSS
Chapter 66 - 63 Feng Jiu

Chapter 66: Chapter 63 Feng Jiu

In the eyes of those from the True Martial Dao Sect, Qing Yu, who had met a miserable fate, now sat leisurely, with all limbs intact, fanning himself, watching the play unfold.

This was inside the most famous Lingxian Pavilion of Tianyue Workshop.

At this moment, Lingxian Pavilion was soliciting patrons for tonight’s esteemed position beside the Oiran.

Of course, as a place highly praised by scholars as a locale of elegance, here at Lingxian Pavilion, becoming the distinguished guest of the night required not money, but talent.

"I drink and laugh heartily, lost in inebriation, where would I find the time for sorrow?

Recently I’ve begun to find the ancient scriptures unbelievable, for none seems true.

Last night I collapsed drunk by a pine tree, and asked the pine how my drunken state was.

I almost believed the pine would come to steady me, but with a push of my hand, I told it to be gone!"

The one reciting poetry was a handsome young man dressed very plainly. He was said to be dressed plainly because he was in a scholar’s attire, and in this assembly, nine out of ten were dressed similarly, validating the eternal maxim, "Since ancient times, literary men have been flamboyantly frivolous."

This young master, with a face rather pale and showing signs of illness, seemed somewhat frail.

"Is there anyone who feels they can surpass this Ninth Young Master and present a poem? If not, tonight’s esteemed guest will be the Ninth Young Master," the aging brothel owner, Lady Xu, called out forcefully.

"Just give it to him; that’s all he’s good for..."

"Ninth Young Master, are you physically up for it? Haha..."

"Ninth Young Master, don’t let your blood rush to your head and faint later on..."

...

For some reason, everyone present mocked him with their words. Although the scholars did not swear, their insults without profanities pierced right to the heart.

The Ninth Young Master’s face, ridiculed by the crowd, flushed with an unhealthy pallor as he coughed endlessly.

"Are the scholars of Northern Zhou all sore losers?" On the second floor, Jin Mingxuan, who was watching with Qing Yu, couldn’t help but sneer at the scene.

Nearby scholars overheard and turned around, glaring angrily at Jin Mingxuan. Unfazed, he returned their stares with a fierce glare.

"Gentlemen, is it your first time to Divine Capital?" one of the nearby scholars said, his tone filled with certainty despite phrasing it as a question.

"Oh, how did you know that we are in Divine Capital for the first time?" Qing Yu asked, shaking his folding fan.

By making this inquiry, he had already admitted his first-time presence in Divine Capital.

Several scholars with angry expressions softened their gaze, showing apologetic smiles.

"Had it not been your first time in Divine Capital, how could you not know of this ’famed’ Ninth Young Master?" The scholar who had first spoken again emphasized "famed" with a heavy tone and a mocking smile, clearly not in praise of the Ninth Young Master.

"What does ’famed’ entail?" Qing Yu asked, very much playing along.

"This person is named ’Feng Jiu,’ the ninth son of the current Emperor. Born frail, with meridians so weak they are unsuitable for cultivation, he cannot even withstand the effects of a common Qi Blood Pill, too frail to benefit from tonics—a natural invalid disfavored by the Emperor. Even his name was casually given based on his generational ranking, simply adding the numeral ’nine.’

This Ninth Young Master cannot advance in martial arts, so he turned to literature, and indeed, he has made some name for himself. Unfortunately, his literary grace falls short of the Eighth Prince Feng Qiwu and continues to be overlooked. In the end, he can only come to Lingxian Pavilion daily to flaunt his literary prowess. Today marks his tenth visit this month—always the same, naturally unwelcomed by the people."

Great Zhou was annihilated in years past, and only with Meng Shanhe’s protection did Northern Zhou establish itself. Hence, although Northern Zhou has a flourishing literary tradition with many scholars to be seen on the streets, its martial spirit is just as strong. Successive Emperors of Northern Zhou have fostered the martial spirit, and the people of Northern Zhou pride themselves on being skilled in both literature and martial arts, looking down on those of Daqian who are not industrious in either aspect and lack even the strength to truss a chicken.

Ironically, the Eighth Prince Feng Qiwu, whose literary talent overshadows that of Feng Jiu and is skilled in both literature and martial arts, stands out as exceptionally talented. In such an environment, it would be strange if Feng Jiu received attention.

"It looks like there’s no hope for this month, this damned..." said another scholar, stopping mid-sentence, clearly reluctant to curse Feng Jiu outright. After all, no matter what, he was still a prince.

Today was the tenth, and Feng Jiu was selected for the tenth time as the honored guest behind the curtain, clearly intending to monopolize the entire month and leave no opportunity for others. It’s no wonder that scholar was cursing.

"My apologies, I haven’t asked for your esteemed names yet. My name is Meng De, this is my friend Jin Mingxuan, may I have the honor of knowing your names?" Qing Yu said, filled with apology.

"No trouble at all, we also forgot to introduce ourselves. My name is Lin Weifeng," the scholar who spoke first to Qing Yu said.

"Lu Renjia."

"Xiao Bingyi."

"Qun Zhongding."

The other scholars were also very polite in their introductions.

"Brother Meng and Brother Jin must be here to study at Mountain River Academy?" Lin Weifeng said.

"Indeed."

"We are all students of Mountain River Academy. We look forward to meeting both of you there. As for today, we’ve lost our enthusiasm and will take our leave."

The other three scholars also nodded in agreement.

"Farewell to you all."

The four slowly walked away.

The group had been speaking for quite a while when the brothel owner downstairs was still shouting about whether anyone else was there, completely disregarding Feng Jiu’s pale and furious face next to her. It seemed Feng Jiu was indeed in a pitiful state, not even worthy of the brothel owner’s regard.

"The poem that the Ninth Prince just wrote seems to express a leisurely state of mind, but beneath the surface, it reveals his dissatisfaction with reality and his stubborn attitude towards life. He too is resentful," Jin Mingxuan commented as he watched the scene below.

"Resentful he may be, but he chose the wrong venue to display his literary talent. Lingxian Pavilion is still a brothel after all. Even if he really does monopolize the month, it will not attract the attention of others; instead, mockery will likely increase. Therefore, we must awaken him," Qing Yu said.

"What?!" Jin Mingxuan looked at Qing Yu, dumbfounded.

This is Northern Zhou, brother. No matter how little regarded Feng Jiu is, he’s still a prince. Looking at his frail appearance, one punch and he’d likely cough up blood and die on the spot. Then, we’d be the ones joining him in death.

"Use literary talent. Brother Jin, I’m counting on you," Qing Yu patted Jin Mingxuan on the shoulder.

"I’m not... Meng brother, although I consider myself somewhat knowledgeable in literature, surpassing Feng Jiu’s poetry is frankly impossible for me. If you’re relying on me, you’ve got the wrong person," Jin Mingxuan shook his head like a bobblehead.

"Don’t worry, I’ll help you. Come here and listen," Qing Yu whispered into Jin Mingxuan’s ear.

"This... Meng brother, what literary talent," Jin Mingxuan said.

"Consider it repayment for hitching a ride with you. Go on," Qing Yu said.

"Thank you, Brother Meng." Jin Mingxuan, filled with gratitude, glanced at Qing Yu before running downstairs and shouting, "Here I come."

Oj8k, this friendship is in the bag.

Now, let’s wish him a pleasant evening, while Qing Yu quietly makes his exit, job done.

As for Jin Mingxuan’s chances of success, there was no need to worry. Although Feng Jiu’s poetry was good, the inner sentiment it contained was quite melancholic and didn’t match the current setting. The poetry Qing Yu gave to Jin Mingxuan, however, was the work of the famous freeloader poet Liu Sanbian, who, with his exquisite poetry, enjoyed the pleasures of brothels across the world without ever spending a penny. Could he possibly not outshine Feng Jiu?

Besides, with the brothel owner’s support, even if it was slightly inferior, it wouldn’t change the outcome.

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