Wandering Gods of Day and Night-Chapter 75 - 72 Strolling Leisurely in the Courtyard

75: Chapter 72 Strolling Leisurely in the Courtyard

75 -72 Strolling Leisurely in the Courtyard

“Smack!”

The sound of the gavel rang out again,

and the dreamscape completely receded.

Liao Zhongsheng wasn’t being bitten by a dog; he was holding a meat cleaver, carving at his own flesh.

When he awoke from the dream, he dropped the knife to the ground, pitying his own bloody body.

Yuan Buyu stood with his hands behind his back, seemingly pondering something.

“Old blind…

no, wise master, I bullied your disciple the other day.

It’s my fault.

I’m willing to apologize and set up eighteen tables with spirits, kneel before him in public, and bow three times…

nine times is fine too!”

Liao Zhongsheng feared for his life and clung to the notion of admitting his mistakes.

Since the master hadn’t killed him in the dream, it showed that the other had no intention to kill.

If he begged earnestly, maybe he could escape death.

In fact, according to Yuan Buyu’s habits, this was the sort of incident he would consider settled by now.

He was a storyteller who had spent his life adhering to ancestral teachings — restraining himself and showing mercy when able.

He wouldn’t pursue the matter aggressively,

though his Incense Fire Level was high, over the years, people rarely died within his dreamscapes.

Usually, they were left insane or mostly disabled.

*Yuan Buyu was conflicted.

His words were as much for Liao Zhongsheng as they were for himself,* ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

“When my master taught me skills, he knew that I had a harsh nature and struck without knowing my strength, so he gave me the four Great Heavenly Kings statues, which represented restraint with their stringless zither, boneless umbrella, sheathless sword, and scaleless dragon.”

“Over the years, I have also shown a lot of restraint…”

Liao Zhongsheng, like someone clutching at a lifeline, said, “Then show restraint one more time today, and I will surely kneel to apologize to your disciple!”

“Correction, Zhou Xuan is not my disciple…” Yuan Buyu lowered his head, his gaze as sharp as a knife directed at Liao Zhongsheng, speaking with clear enunciation, “He is my successor!”

Liao Zhongsheng’s hope plummeted rapidly into despair.

As one navigating the martial arts world, he naturally understood the weight of “successor.”

A disciple is like a half-son, and the youngest disciple is often as dear as a son.

A successor?

That’s even dearer than a son.

Bang!

A gavel came crashing down like a hammer, hitting Liao Zhongsheng’s forehead.

The force was so heavy that half of the gavel embedded itself into Liao Zhongsheng’s skull, causing his brain matter to spray.

“If I don’t kill you, kidnappers will haunt my disciple’s soul endlessly!”

Yuan Buyu gestured to retrieve the gavel and then applied the same method to Yang Moxiang and the other two kidnappers.

Three dull thuds, and three lives were snuffed out like dogs’.

Yuan Buyu took out a handkerchief, wiped the blood off the gavel, threw the handkerchief inside the room, and quietly left.

This time, for Zhou Xuan, he chose not to restrain himself!

Leaving the storyteller’s handkerchief was to tell the kidnappers — the divine people of the Zhou Family’s Troupe had taken action; if you don’t want to end up like the Dog King, keep a distance from Zhou Xuan, far away…

…

On the return journey, Yuan Buyu asked Zhou Xuan, “Xuan, did you understand tonight’s strike?”

“Understood, it turns out a storyteller’s dream can change indefinitely.”

“To achieve more variations, you have to elevate your Incense Fire Level.

Each level brings a new skill.”

“Got it.” Zhou Xuan nodded.

Upon returning to the Zhou Family’s Troupe, the master and disciple went their separate ways.

Suddenly, Zhou Xuan called Yuan Buyu, “Master, thank you for today.”

*Zhou Xuan felt uneasy, knowing that Yuan Buyu had killed a room full of people for him today, violating his life philosophy of ‘restraint.’*

“I should be the one thanking you.”

Yuan Buyu waved him off, saying, “Go to bed now and remember to write the book for Liang tomorrow.

Lady Lianhua at the Lotus Temple is still waiting to hear you narrate.”

“Okay.” Zhou Xuan nodded and went back to his room.

Yuan Buyu didn’t move, looking up at the bright moonlight, murmuring to himself, “For three hundred years, no storyteller has reached the eight incense level, probably due to the word ‘restraint’ ending it!

Xuan, I really don’t know who’s the master or who’s the disciple between us!

I’ve not taught you much, but I’ve learned quite a lot from you.”

…

It rained lightly in the latter half of the night, and a fine mist arose in the morning.

Zhou Xuan carried a wind lamp as usual to the gatehouse, went through the newspapers, but didn’t find any secret codes from the Blood Well Society.

“When will the next meeting be?”

Zhou Xuan muttered, leaving the newspaper aside, he had breakfast and then returned to his room to continue writing the script for Liang.

Zhou Xuan had his plans for the storytelling at the Lotus Temple.

The purpose of such a customized story was, of course, to satisfy the host.

Zhou Xuan felt that the audience should be divided into “Lady Lianhua and her descendants.” For the descendants, he could narrate an episode of “The White-Browed Hero,” which they originally enjoyed, but Lady Lianhua might not like it as much.

Considering her age and Buddhist background, she likely wouldn’t enjoy the excitement of stories about fights and battles.

To make her happy, besides the White-Browed Hero, he might need to prepare another set of stories.

What stories should he prepare?

He hadn’t decided and needed to deliberate further.

“Let’s not think about the next story yet.

I’ll write a few more episodes for the White-Browed Hero.” Zhou Xuan continued writing diligently.

He was so engrossed in writing that Lu Mingkun brought him breakfast and lunch.

“Thank you, Fifth Brother.”

“Junior Brother, the masters in the Jingyi Room have quite an opinion on you now,” Lu Mingkun said.

“Why?” Zhou Xuan was puzzled, as he usually didn’t interact with the Jingyi Room.

How could he have offended them?

Lu Mingkun, with a troubled expression, said, “The masters in the Jingyi Room work at night, but you narrate your stories every night, and we never get to hear them.”

“…” Zhou Xuan.

“How about narrating in the afternoon one day, let the masters in the Jingyi Room hear something lively too.”

“I’ll try, Fifth Brother.” Zhou Xuan reluctantly agreed.

…

After lunch, Zhou Xuan wrote another episode for the White-Browed Hero, making a total of three episodes written in one day, which was good progress.

Feeling dizzy from writing, he put down his pen and paper and went to the courtyard to take a break.

The sunlight in the courtyard was quite intense, with almost no one around, except for Little Fuzi who was stretching in a corner.

“Fuzi, training so diligently?”

“Master said I’m stupid, so I’m being punished.”

“Since you’re free, why not practice with me?” Recently, Zhou Xuan had seen quick growth in his Incense Fire Level and wanted to see if using Dream Generation would result in fewer flaws in his dreamscapes.

Little Fuzi shook his head, saying that his master had punished him, and he dared not disobey.

“Fifty.”

“It’s not about the money…”

“Seventy!”

“Well…

Anyway, since my master says I’m innately mischievous…

It’s not the first or second time I’ve disobeyed him.

Young Master, let’s practice.”

Fuzi agreed, showing that adding money really did work!

Zhou Xuan asked Fuzi to stand still, first conceptualizing a dream about having tea in a teahouse in his mind.

The sound of wooden fans clapping brought the dream to life.

At the moment the dream formed, Zhou Xuan’s vision flashed with the image of a Paperman Boatman again.

Little Fuzi’s body shuddered, and he entered the dream.

He found himself in a tea room, which was more like a meditation room; the lighting was dim, and six copper Buddha statues were set into the walls.

In the center of the room were four meditation cushions surrounding a ground platform.

A hook descended from the ceiling, hanging a teapot, with several empty teacups filled with tea leaves beneath it.

Little Fuzi walked to the platform, grabbing an empty teacup, reaching for the teapot to pour in hot water and brew tea.

Before he could grasp the teacup, he heard a “drip, drip” sound.

Following the noise, he noticed blood drops inside the empty teacup.

He realized something and looked up quickly, only to find a broken woman’s face on the ceiling beam.

The blood was dripping from the cracks in her fragmented face.

“Waaah…

Waaah…”

Fuzi was so frightened he burst out crying.

*Was there something scary in the dream I created?* Zhou Xuan thought about entering his own dream to see the truth, and with this thought, he took a step forward…

…

In the kitchen, Yuan Buyu had the stove facing the courtyard corner.

Since several of the staff in charge of purchasing had matters to attend to and returned late, he was tasked with making a few extra dishes.

Thus, he cooked while watching Zhou Xuan and Little Fuzi practice outside.

“Xuan now generates dreams faster, indeed an effect of rising incense levels.”

“Why is Little Fuzi crying again?

Every time Xuan generates a dream, there’s always something terrifying in it…”

Yuan Buyu picked up a vinegar bottle, starting to add vinegar to the dish.

Suddenly, he saw that although Fuzi hadn’t woken from the dream, Zhou Xuan had already walked beside him and seemed to be saying something.

Zhou Xuan seemed to have entered the dream he created in the middle of the process.

“Huh?

Freely entering the dream; is this ‘Strolling in the Courtyard’?” Yuan Buyu could hardly believe his eyes.

“Strolling in the Courtyard” is a technique storytellers only use with three incense, yet Zhou Xuan managed to use it so easily?

“Yuan, the vinegar…

vinegar…

vinegar!

You poured an entire bottle of vinegar into the dish…”

The sous chef reminded Yuan Buyu.