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Downstairs, hundreds of round lanterns adorned with painted dragon characters glowed with a radiant golden light. Each lantern formed a shimmering light spot, and together they surrounded a long, winding red dragon.
The dragon twisted and surged left and right, struggling to break free from the encircling lights. The glowing spots clashed with the dragon’s movements in a dazzling spectacle—a chaotic yet mesmerizing “dragon meeting” filled with energy and color.
Above them, golden, red, and yellow fireworks erupted continuously in the night sky, bathing the entire scene in brilliant, shifting hues.
Amidst the excitement, the crowd took in the dragon dance for a while before returning to their tables, drinking and feasting merrily. All those present were children of merchant families—none of noble birth. The air of refinement they usually tried to maintain quickly faded. Their laughter turned loud and carefree, and they clapped their hands on the table with unrestrained delight.
"Can anyone be allowed into this tenth floor?"
The sudden sharp voice came from the next table, instantly silencing the laughter.
Everyone turned their heads.
At the nearby table sat three young scholars, each with a refined and aloof air. Cold eyes swept across the room.
The speaker was a pale, thin-faced scholar, his tone dripping with disdain.
"Such an elegant place actually allows vulgar people to come upstairs. It seems Xunyang Tower has truly fallen."
To everyone’s surprise, Song Zhenguo—normally the most outspoken—remained silent. He lowered his head and sipped his wine without protest.
The others followed suit, dropping their gazes. Even Chen Yunxi, who came from the wealthiest family among them, bit her lip and said nothing. Her silence said everything—these three were not ordinary men.
Another of the young scholars, toying with a string of Buddhist prayer beads, smiled as he looked toward Chen Yunxi.
"Isn’t this Miss Chen Yunxi? As expected from a merchant’s daughter—you keep company with such uncultured people."11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVDoOOpN5jJ
"Your brother was quite eager last time. Said many flattering things, smiled, and told me he’d marry you off to me as a concubine. I was nearly moved."11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ22QGnR9tKF
"Now that I see this scene, I’m glad I didn’t agree."
As the words landed, Chen Yunxi jolted like she’d been struck by lightning. She glanced at Lu Sheng, then quickly looked down. Her face and neck flushed red, her body trembling from shame and rage.
Yet despite the humiliation, none of the eight or nine people at her table spoke up in her defense. Not a single voice rose to challenge the insult.
Lu Sheng shook his head inwardly. His gaze shifted to Song Zhenguo, who now had his fists clenched tightly, veins bulging at his neck. The fury in him was clear.
“A bunch of cowards.” The thin-faced scholar spat the words with contempt.
“Did your mother never teach you manners? Or do you need me to show you what proper etiquette looks like?”
A calm voice rang out suddenly—from beside Chen Yunxi.
The thin-faced scholar had been about to ignore them entirely, lifting his wine cup as if the conversation no longer concerned him. But at those words, his hand froze midair. His eyes snapped toward Chen Yunxi with a piercing glare.
His two companions also turned, visibly surprised, their gazes falling on her.
Song Zhenguo, startled, quickly reached for Lu Sheng’s hand and gave it a sharp tug. He shot Lu Sheng a look, then slowly stood and bowed toward the three scholars, ready to apologize and smooth things over.
But Lu Sheng only smiled and stood as well.
“It’s true that we were too noisy. For that, we should apologize.” He paused, voice turning colder. “But hurling insults at a young woman—one who’s barely come of age? That says far more about your character than ours.”
("Jigui" refers to the traditional age of marriage—sixteen for women. Chen Yunxi was only sixteen, three years younger than Lu Sheng.)
“How dare you!” The thin-faced scholar sprang to his feet, eyes like knives as he glared at Lu Sheng. “I didn’t expect Yanshan City to harbor such insolent—”
“Enough, Su De.”
The last of the three scholars, the one who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
At his words, the tension broke. The fury on the faces of his companions faded, replaced with smug amusement. Clearly, he was the one with true authority among them.
“It’s a small matter. Let it go. The hour has arrived—we should be leaving.”
His features were clean and well-proportioned, and his calm, poised demeanor radiated quiet confidence. When he spoke, it was as if all this drama were no more than a childish quarrel—something beneath his notice.
“Hmph… Since it’s Young Master Rong who says so!” Su De sneered, but he didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he cast a venomous glare at Lu Sheng before turning away.
Lu Sheng, however, was already prepared to teach them a lesson if they stayed. He had also noticed several sharp gazes from the shadows—followers of the three, no doubt. But judging from their strength, they were merely at the Tongli level. For someone like him, it would only mean a few extra palm strikes.
Even within the Tongli level, there were distinctions in strength. Take Zhao Bo from Lu Sheng’s family, for example—he stood at the peak of Tongli and could easily handle two average Tongli practitioners at once. Just like martial arts: two people might train in the same form, but their mastery could differ vastly.
Lu Sheng, however, had already stepped beyond that. As a true inner-style master, his cultivation of the Black Fiend Art technique made him especially lethal against demons and spirits. Against ordinary people, the effect would likely be even more terrifying.
Though he had yet to truly clash with such opponents, Lu Sheng viewed three or five Tongli experts as no real threat. Even those who had reached the higher Tongyi level were, in his eyes, little more than a handful of Tongli stacked together—not enough to concern him.
The three arrogant scholars finally rose and left in silence. With that, the tension dissolved, and Song Zhenguo let out a quiet sigh of relief.
As soon as they were gone, Chen Yunxi stood up, her eyes glistening with tears. She gave a brief farewell, her voice trembling. Lu Sheng tried to walk her out, but she gently declined and left in haste.
The festive mood had vanished. No one felt like watching the dragon dance anymore.
After sending off his female companion, Song Zhenguo led Lu Sheng and Wang Ziquan to the riverside.
The Songbai River shimmered quietly under the night sky. Red lanterns hung on slow-gliding pleasure boats that drifted gently with the current.
Without hesitation, Song Zhenguo brought the two of them aboard one of the larger boats. A graceful boat girl approached them with a smile.
"Mr. Song, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you. Jun’er keeps mentioning you every day."
Her voice was soft and natural, entirely lacking the typical airs of flirtation. Lu Sheng couldn’t help but feel surprised by her gentle demeanor.
"Is Jun’er free now?" Song Zhenguo asked with a chuckle, stepping inside.
"Of course. She’s been waiting for you, Mr. Song." The boat girl giggled, then turned to the others. "As for you two gentlemen, if there’s a girl you fancy, just let me know."
They were led into a small private room, tastefully decorated in elegant fashion. Not long after, a dozen women in gauzy dresses entered. Each carried herself with refinement and charm, their beauty distinct and well-groomed—more like noble daughters than entertainers.
"Greetings, gentlemen." All the women bowed gracefully as they entered the room.
"You two, pick whoever you like. Tonight’s on me." Song Zhenguo said casually, wrapping his arm around a woman who had just walked in and pulling her to his side.
Wang Ziquan’s eyes went wide. His face turned bright red as he stared around, clearly overwhelmed and unsure of whom to choose.
Lu Sheng, on the other hand, remained composed. With a calm glance, he pointed to a quiet-looking girl and gestured for her to sit beside him.
After the three made their choices, a light, fragrant tea was served to refresh and invigorate them. A dancer in a flowing, revealing dress stepped forward, playing soft music and performing a graceful dance.
"What happened today at Xunyang Tower... truly left a bitter taste..." Song Zhenguo muttered, his face still flushed from drink and emotion. His chest rose and fell heavily with frustration.
"Brother Song, come on now—look around. Beautiful women, peaceful night, good wine. Why bring up depressing matters?" Wang Ziquan grinned, his hands already wandering toward the girl beside him. "Drink! Let’s enjoy ourselves!"
The three women beside them giggled and offered soft words of comfort. Wang Ziquan and Lu Sheng also chimed in to help calm Song Zhenguo, who finally began to ease up, his mood improving.
"If I’m not mistaken, one of those three who mocked us earlier is Wang Shunyong—the son of Yanshan City’s deputy general," Song Zhenguo said slowly, his tone still tinged with caution. "If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't care. But this Wang Shunyong... he’s different."
"And that Young Master Rong..." Wang Ziquan added with a serious nod. "He’s probably even more powerful."
Lu Sheng remained silent, shaking his head slightly. After witnessing true power and seeing a broader world, these so-called young masters meant little to him now.
"Enough of this mood-killing talk! Drink, drink! Don’t stop until we’re drunk out of our minds!" Wang Ziquan shouted with laughter.
Song Zhenguo finally let go of his worries, clinking cups with the others and downing his wine.
Though Lu Sheng wasn’t particularly fond of such occasions, he stayed for Song Zhenguo’s sake. He could see his friend needed the company tonight, and so he drank with them late into the night.
The pleasure boat followed the rules of Hua Chuan Chuan—accompanying guests with drinking and entertainment, but nothing beyond that.
By the time the three of them stepped back onto the riverside dock, the city was deep in slumber. It was already well past midnight—somewhere around two or three in the morning.
After parting ways with Song Zhenguo and Wang Ziquan, Lu Sheng walked alone, a swirl of emotions rising within him. The way Song Zhenguo and Chen Yunxi—children of wealthy merchant families—had remained silent before the sons of high-ranking officials left a bitter taste. It was clear: in this world, merchants still held a low place in the social hierarchy.
He had drunk a fair amount. Though he wasn’t drunk, the wine had cleared his mind instead of clouding it, leaving him alert and restless. After leaving the banks of the Songbai River, he made his way toward home.
Several times along the road, he tried to flag down a passing carriage, but each one was either full or simply didn’t stop.
It was far too late. Even the carriage drivers had likely turned in for the night. With no other choice, he continued on foot, step by step, through the empty streets.
The midnight city was quiet. Occasionally, the drunken mutterings of stragglers echoed in the distance, breaking the silence.
The houses lining the streets were dark and still. Only the lanterns hanging before the grander estates cast a dim red glow, swaying softly in the night wind.
The breeze cut through his clothes—it was cold.
Lu Sheng picked up his pace, hoping to get home quickly. But halfway there, he suddenly froze. His hand instinctively went to his waist.
His waist pouch—gone.
Frantically, he patted himself down from head to toe. Nothing.
"It must’ve fallen on the pleasure boat," he muttered, his face darkening.
Inside that pouch was a note from Duanmu Wan—and more importantly, his house key. He couldn’t afford to lose it. Without hesitation, he turned and rushed back in the direction of the Songbai River.
The streets were nearly empty now, the silence growing thicker as he moved. When he reached the riverside again, most of the boats had long ceased their nightly business. The colorful streamers that once hung cheerfully from the masts were now packed away. The place was still, quiet, almost lifeless.
Lu Sheng retraced his steps and soon spotted the pleasure boat he had disembarked from earlier.
It was now quietly moored along the riverbank. The deck was deserted, not a soul in sight. Only the soft glow of yellow lanterns swayed gently in the river breeze.
"They must’ve closed up. The girls have probably gone home to rest. This should be the time they’re cleaning up," Lu Sheng thought, stepping onto the boat via the narrow pier.
"Is anyone there?" he called out twice as he moved along the deck, his voice swallowed quickly by the night.
The interior of the boat was eerily quiet. The floor had been cleaned to a shine, and even the slightly aged wooden planks gleamed under the lantern light with a polished varnish.
He made his way deeper into the vessel. Past the entrance was a narrow corridor that led into the heart of the ship. Beyond it, a hall opened up, flanked on both sides by rows of rooms spanning the boat’s three levels.
Each room had a red lantern swaying gently above its door. The crimson glow bled faintly across the wooden panels, painting the hallway in an ominous hue.
"Is there anyone?" Lu Sheng called again, his voice echoing faintly. Still, no answer.
He paused, scanning the quiet surroundings. A strange feeling stirred in his chest.
"When I was here earlier... there weren’t this many red lanterns, were there?" he murmured, narrowing his eyes.
Three levels. Fifteen rooms in total—five on each floor. Now, each doorway was adorned with a glowing red lantern, their light casting a surreal, bloody sheen over the entire ship.
Everything was utterly silent.
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