Chapter 7

Zhao Rucheng came from a wealthy family and bought a house near the Daoist academy for his own residence. He had about a dozen servants to attend to his daily needs and rarely stayed in the dormitory. Du Yehu, on the other hand, would be hard to get rid of once he started drinking.

Thus, when Jiang Wang returned to the dormitory, he realized that the usually noisy dormitory was now empty, with only himself remaining.

After closing the door, he subconsciously glanced at the bed on the left side of the dormitory.

The bed was neatly made with clean bedding, no different in material from the others in the dormitory. At the moment, no one was on the bed, and there would never be anyone there again.

This was Fang Pengju's bed. He came from a wealthy family but was never pretentious, eating and drinking with everyone without any complaints.

The bed opposite Fang Pengju's was empty, piled with many suitcases.

The beds on both sides were arranged in this manner, with three on each side.

The second bed on the left, next to Fang Pengju's, was the messiest in the dormitory. The bedding was casually piled up, with scattered clothes as mere decorations. If one sniffed closely, one could even smell the scent of alcohol. If one looked under the bed, one would see neatly arranged rows of wine jars. Compared to the living conditions of the bed's owner, these wine jars were clearly well-cared for.

The first bed on the left, by the door, belonged to Ling He—he was always responsible for opening and closing the door for everyone. The bedding had a few not-so-obvious patches but was very clean.

The first bed on the right belonged to Jiang Wang, whose bedding was comparable to Ling He's. Despite not having returned for a long time, the bed was still very tidy, clearly often cleaned. It might have been Ling He, or Zhao Rucheng... or perhaps even Fang Pengju.

The second bed on the right, next to Jiang Wang's, belonged to Zhao Rucheng. His bed was unique in the entire dormitory, with high-quality bedding and curtains embroidered with gold thread. It was a stark contrast to Du Yehu's bed across from it.

People who didn't know Zhao Rucheng well might find him hard to get along with, but in reality, it was just that his standards of living were very high. Even when he occasionally stayed in the dormitory, he insisted on the utmost luxury and comfort. He had even once spent a fortune to transform the entire dormitory into a top-tier guest room—until Jiang Wang beat him up.

From the age of fourteen when he entered the outer academy until now, Jiang Wang had spent three years in this dormitory. Every detail of the room was familiar to him.

Things remain, but people change.

Jiang Wang was silent for a moment, then took off his shoes and socks, removed his outer robe, and lay down on his bed.

He was very tired and exhausted, but only at this moment could he finally rest assured and fall asleep.

One moment of floating in affairs, one dream reaching the sky.

The entire Maple Forest City was square and well-planned. The city lord's residence was at the center, radiating to all four directions. The eastern part of the city was the domain of the Daoist academy, the western part was where the noble families resided. The southern part was mostly inhabited by commoners, while the northern part was where merchants and wealthy people gathered.

Seeing Jiang Wang safely leave the dean's study, Ling He carried Fang Pengju's body out of the academy alone.

Fang Pengju, who had many friends and could command a hundred responses when alive, was shunned by everyone when he died.

His actions were despicable and vile, and he deserved to be shunned.

Ling He did not feel wronged for him, but he still felt some pain.

He wrapped Fang Pengju's body in his old but clean outer robe.

For him, walking from the eastern part of the city to the western part was not far, and the way to the Fang family's mansion was familiar. But Ling He walked very slowly, his steps heavy.

He was reluctant.

He was the oldest and should have taken good care of his four sworn brothers, but he failed to do so.

He still remembered the scene by the Green Willow River where the five of them swore brotherhood, and the radiant smiles of each of them.

The Green Willow River was a tributary of the Clear River, winding around Ox Head Mountain. The water in the river was very clear, reflecting their young faces and young hearts. That year, they rode horses with swords, raised cups in toasts, practiced martial arts countless times, and talked through the night by candlelight.

They had agreed to advance to the inner academy together, to ride swords into the blue sky, and to achieve transcendence together. Those memories, those... promises.

Ling He never thought that such a group of like-minded, deeply bonded brothers would one day turn against each other, even to the point of life and death.

How could this be?

He thought.

He couldn't understand, but he carried Fang Pengju's cold body and finally arrived at the gate of the Fang family's mansion.

"What are you doing here?" the gatekeeper stopped him and asked.

The Fang family's mansion was very tall, towering high.

"Oh." Ling He, holding Fang Pengju's body, slightly bowed his head in greeting. "Fang Pengju has passed away. I am bringing his body back for your family to bury."

If no one claimed the body, it would be taken to a mass grave by the authorities. That was a place often visited by left-path demons, and it would be hard for the dead to rest in peace.

But Ling He thought it unnecessary to say this. He was not one to boast, nor did he consider this a merit.

The gatekeeper's face changed, and he slammed the door shut. A voice came from behind the door: "Take it away! The master said he is not to be allowed in!"

"Sir," Ling He said sincerely, "please inform your master again. Pengju, no matter what, is of the Fang family's blood. They might just be saying it in anger, but they won't abandon him."

The gatekeeper seemed to hesitate for a moment. "I'll ask again... but don't take the opportunity to barge in!"

"Sir, please rest assured."

Ling He, holding Fang Pengju's body, stood firmly at the gate of the Fang family's mansion, listening to the hurried footsteps fade away.

He lowered his head and said to Fang Pengju's already cold face, "Pengju, look at what you've done? No one will remember your good deeds after you die, and you will be despised by both gods and ghosts."

After a long time, the gatekeeper's voice sounded again from behind the door.

"The master says," he paused, repeating the tone of the Fang family's master, "he's dead, so why bring him back?"

Ling He was taken aback for a moment, then stammered, "The Fang family is a respectable family and should give Pengju a proper burial."

"The master said that he is already aware of the cause of Fang Pengju's death. Such an unrighteous person is not of the Fang family's blood!"

"But he is, of the Fang family's blood," Ling He said.

"Go away!" The gatekeeper threw a handful of knife coins through the door crack. "If you persist, we will report you to the authorities!"

The knife coins clattered to the ground, attracting attention. They were more than enough to cover a simple burial, with extra for a tip.

This was the Fang family's attitude.

Ling He was silent.

He no longer tried to say anything.

He was poor, poor from a young age. He was short of money, and his only intact outer robe was wrapped around Fang Pengju's body. His undergarment was patched. He stood in front of the magnificent Fang family's mansion, like a poor relative who had been turned away.

He carried Fang Pengju's body and turned to leave.

From beginning to end, he did not look at the knife coins once.

This was Ling He's attitude.