Little Sprout giggled, "Young Master Mo, you've got that wrong. My mistress's prime years are far more than just a fleeting decade or so. Having consumed both the Exquisite Lotus and the Seven-Colored Sacred Fruit simultaneously, my mistress’s peerless beauty will remain undiminished for at least five hundred years."

"Little Sprout, silence," Miao Miaomiao hissed softly, then turned to Jun Moxie with an apology, "Little Sprout is young and doesn't yet grasp such delicate matters. Please do not take offense, Young Master."

"Innocence and cheerfulness are precisely the best seasons of life. I’m more inclined to envy and admire them than to take offense. If I feel jealousy, perhaps just a tiny bit!" Jun Moxie smiled freely, adding a casual jest.

"For the Young Master to speak so unreservedly shows the purity of your heart. May I ask, Young Master, when was the last time you laughed wholeheartedly?" Miao Miaomiao countered.

"The last time I laughed? ...Seems like just yesterday! If everything before today doesn't count!" Jun Moxie smiled faintly and continued, "I often remind myself that in this world as it is, the mere fact that I can still breathe and live is a great fortune, worthy of great laughter. Therefore, I laugh every day. Not only that, I even try to make those around me laugh with me..."

Jun Moxie smiled broadly at her, "Laughing once a day, I wonder how much trouble it can erase! Whether it's real or not, I'll treat it as real!"

"The Young Master is truly open-minded. I am filled with envy and jealousy!"

A look of genuine yearning flashed across Miao Miaomiao's clear eyes, vanishing instantly as her expression returned to calm. She spoke softly, "Now that the Young Master has arrived at the Phantom Manor, you must already be aware of the importance of the Ethereal Physique to our Manor. What are your plans for your future?"

As she spoke, she slowly raised her head, her eyes fixed intently on Jun Moxie's: "I know the Young Master's aptitude is extraordinary. Today, seeing your quick wit and decisive actions, I am impressed. But I wonder about your literary talent?"

"Then... do you hope I am exceptionally talented in literature? Or do you wish I were simply an illiterate simpleton?"

Jun Moxie smiled faintly.

"The Young Master jokes," Miao Miaomiao’s cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of shyness crossing her eyes. "Could the Young Master compose a poem recounting your lifelong aspirations? Allow this humble girl to appreciate it?"

Jun Moxie inwardly acknowledged her sharpness. If he spoke plainly, lies would flow easily. But to express ambition through poetry made the task far more difficult, and the resulting verses would inevitably reveal his true thoughts... because poetry is the language of the heart, and on such short notice, he believed no one could feign sentiments that weren't their own in verse!

This request from the young woman served two purposes: first, to test his literary skill, and second, to gauge his true intentions. She had posed this difficult challenge precisely to prevent him from speaking facile falsehoods.

He already possessed the Ethereal Physique, extraordinary intelligence, decisive action, and ruthlessness—these were likely the impressions this girl held of him now. But if that were all, one could devise strategies based on weaknesses. The true fear was... if such a person also possessed considerable culture, they would be even more formidable...

Since that was the case, he might as well give her a proper jolt!

Jun Moxie pondered for a moment, his sword-like brows lifted, and recited in a resonant voice: "Obeying Heaven may not ensure survival; defying it demands a laugh. Who else is like me, with my sword pointing at the tempests of the mortal realm?..."

He paused briefly here, then continued: "The sun and moon rest in my embrace, watch me lead the way alone! My sharp blade draws, who dares to walk the clouds with me? A moment of ancient heroism, wild winds roll the yellow sands, blood and gore—yet I stand firm! A single sword strike claims the world, eternal hegemony decides the hero—I raise my sword, never bowing in this life! Who dances in the clouds, letting me gaze to the edge of the horizon? My heart suffers a thousand twists, the storm in my soul howls mournfully; the song ends and the crowd disperses, my sword angrily pierces the Ninth Heaven. Ancient and modern share a single laugh, heaven and earth are mine to roam freely! Let later generations never try to surpass my height!"

His voice was ringing, like the clash of battle arrays, like the rousing wine before a campaign, the general's order before the slaughter!

Though it was meant only for a moment's listening, those present already felt their blood boil and their hearts stirred with immense emotion.

When Jun Moxie finished reciting, he saw the mistress and servant pair frozen in astonishment. Miao Miaomiao never imagined that this young man before her was gifted in both martial and literary arts, and possessed transcendent intellect. Such an outstanding youth—let alone within the Phantom Manor—how many could be found in the vast world outside?

How many could compose such a passionately grand piece of varied-length verse in the time it took to pace a single step? Never mind aptitude, courage, quick wit, or potential... just this supreme literary talent alone was enough to command respect!

However, this tone... it seemed excessively arrogant.

"Who dances in the clouds, letting me gaze to the edge of the horizon? My heart suffers a thousand twists, the storm in my soul howls mournfully..."

Miao Miaomiao murmured the lines repeatedly. Her memory was excellent; Jun Moxie had recited it only once, yet she had already committed it all to memory. But what she repeated now was the line containing a slight touch of chivalrous softness. The more Miao Miaomiao recited it, the more she felt the profound, heart-wrenching sorrow contained within that single line, an ache that made the heart mourn just contemplating it...

Who dances in the clouds, letting me gaze to the edge of the horizon? My heart suffers a thousand twists, the storm in my soul howls mournfully...

The beloved dances in the clouds, while I stand below, gazing until my yearning eyes are dry, my heart twisted with suffering, my soul filled only with cold, falling snow...

After a long moment, Miao Miaomiao finally exhaled deeply, lowered her eyes, and smiled gently, "Brother Mo, your words flow like composition; your literary talent is truly superb... This little sister feels utterly inferior!"

Jun Moxie burst into laughter, "It's merely some trivial, childish skill, hardly fit for the grand stage. These few lines of clumsy writing were barely accepted by the young lady's eyes. Such fortunate coincidences are rare in this world. I must also thank the old man under whom I studied letters for a few years in the mountains; otherwise, Miss Miao would have truly seen me make a fool of myself this time..."

Young Master Jun was speaking sincerely this time, as his foundation in literature had come entirely from that killer master in his previous life... Even now, thinking of that old man made Jun Moxie feel a phantom sting in his backside...

As for this poem, it was composed by an ancient figure whose name Jun Moxie had forgotten, though he remembered the work well because he adored its heroic spirit. He had memorized it and intended to use it someday. By changing a few lines and reciting it now, the result was indeed stunning!

At this moment, Little Sprout, standing beside them, looked at Jun Moxie with eyes transformed into sheer adoration, almost worship! So handsome! So capable! So talented! If only I could marry a husband like that... Oh heavens, what am I thinking! So embarrassing! Hmph...

"Brother Mo is far too modest."

Miao Miaomiao smiled, her expression brightening. "The one who taught you literature and characters must surely have been a profoundly learned scholar of this age, a true Grand Confucian! And with the spirit of a sword-wielding scholar and the tenderness of a chivalrous heart, a backbone of integrity... such a figure makes one’s heart ache with admiration just thinking of them..."

Miao Miaomiao felt awkward praising Jun Moxie directly, as it might imply other intentions... making others misunderstand. So, she shifted to praising his master instead.

Jun Moxie froze, genuinely stunned, without any pretense.

He had never imagined that anyone in this world would hold that old killer face in such high regard! That man was an actual executioner, a quintessential butcher! His heart could freeze solid, his severity enough to send onlookers fleeing in terror...

And now he was being described as a... profoundly learned scholar? A Grand Confucian? Possessing the spirit of a sword-wielding scholar, a chivalrous heart, and integrity...

Good heavens! These descriptions might fit him well enough, but to apply them to that old butcher—it was an utter waste of words...

However, having not seen that old fellow for so many years, a genuine pang of longing struck him... As Jun Moxie drifted into thought, a pair of eyes, sharp as knife blades, seemed to appear before him, flashing with cold killing intent, thin lips set tight, a gaunt face staring at him mournfully: "Brat! Thinking of slacking off again? Watch me discipline you!"

Following this phantom shout, an intensely familiar cold gust swept past...

Young Master Jun shuddered involuntarily, realizing that without noticing, his own eyes had grown slightly moist...

That long-lost... only... stern yet occasionally warm... old man, if you suddenly heard news that I was blown to smithereens, would you shed a tear?...

He recalled the first time he was grievously wounded—shot through the shoulder, penetrating to the lung, nearly fatal. Before that incident, he had resented the old man endlessly, for he was always either beating or scolding him! Even a slight error in the ritual of drinking wine would earn a severe beating; misjudging the nuances of tasting wine would bring a torrential storm of retribution...

At that time, Jun Xie truly considered the old man his life's greatest enemy! He hated him with gnashing teeth!

Deep in his heart, he had sworn countless oaths: as soon as he possessed enough strength, or found the right opportunity, he would repay the favor, carve that old thing into ten thousand pieces, grind his bones to dust—only then could he quell the hatred in his heart!

But during that injury, when his wounds were so severe that his life was in jeopardy, the old man had driven him, night and day, racing at breakneck speed for eight hundred li to the best hospital in the city. He remembered that the old man’s face remained expressionless then, deep as an abyss, but the needle on the speedometer had never once dropped from the maximum possible speed he could maintain.

Assassins were never supposed to seek hospital care voluntarily, especially not for gunshot wounds. During the days Jun Xie stayed hospitalized, he never saw the old man again. Critically injured and drifting in and out of consciousness, Jun Moxie dimly recalled only one sentence spoken by the old man: "You must remember firmly: you were hit by a stray bullet on the beach! You are the son of a citizen, an orphan!"

The old man never appeared until he was discharged. Then, after another month passed, the old man returned, covered in his own injuries.

The old fellow had broken out of prison to come back! (To be continued. To know what happens next, please support the author and legitimate reading!)