89: Chapter 89 The Grand Ceremony, An Unexpected Change!

Night has fallen, south of the capital.

Lanterns shine like daylight, turning the surroundings crimson.

The Poetry Conference at Wenxin Hall is an annual grand event in the capital.

It gathers the most authoritative scholars and Confucian Great Masters in the capital, along with countless young talents eager to make a name for themselves.

Every scholar with even a shred of confidence in their talent is racking their brains to squeeze into this grand event.

Chen Ran strolls through the streets of the capital.

Today, he has changed into moon-white silk robes, with an ordinary-looking jade pendant hanging from his waist, looking just like a wealthy Young Master from a well-off family out for a stroll.

The peddlers' cries on both sides of the street rise one after another, and all kinds of novel little trinkets are dazzling.

Chen Ran stops and goes, occasionally buying things from the vendors.

Soon, he is covered in quite a few strange and curious objects.

There are novel artifacts imported from the East, and prayer beads claimed to be blessed by a Buddhist Great Master.

These things are not expensive, but heaven only knows if they are genuine.

While toying with the string of prayer beads with a faint sandalwood scent in his hand, Chen Ran lowers his head to look at the foreign artifact in his palm.

It is a square metal object with delicate floral patterns engraved on the surface.

The metal casing has a cold touch, and there is a circular mechanical switch on the side.

Click.

Chen Ran presses the switch hard with his thumb, and with the crisp sound of a mechanical spring, a cluster of flame spurts out from the top.

"It serves the same purpose as a lighter from my previous life..."

Chen Ran watches the dancing flame, muttering to himself.

The technological development of this world is not slow at all.

He had seen records of some Mohist mechanical devices in the files of the Demon Suppression Division.

Those top-tier mechanical creations are loaded with a large number of firearms and cannons; once unleashed, let alone ordinary people, even a Martial Artist with cultivation, if hit head-on, would have to weigh whether they could leave behind a complete corpse.

Bang!

Suddenly, a loud explosion comes from afar.

A dazzling firework blooms in the night sky, illuminating the surrounding streets as bright as day.

"Wow, Mom, look, what beautiful fireworks!"

"That is the opening ceremony of the Wenxin Hall!"

"Hurry, hurry, I want to see what new changes there are this year."

The commotion in the distance instantly attracts the attention of everyone on the street.

The crowd surges forward like a tide, and Chen Ran also follows the flow, walking forward unhurriedly.

After about a quarter of an hour.

At the end of the street, a massive, millstone-like square appears in his field of vision.

The square occupies a vast area; roughly calculated, it is several thousand square meters in size.

The bluestone-paved ground is swept spotless, and rubbings of various poems and songs are placed by the roadside, with a rich scent of ink permeating the air.

At the end of the square, several old men in Confucian robes can be seen sitting on a high platform.

Sharp-eyed members of the crowd recognize the old man in the center of the platform at a glance.

"I recognize him! That is Zhou Jingzhi of Wenxin Hall, Master Zhou!"

"I did not expect such a big shot to come in person."

"You do not know, do you? This time is different from usual."

Someone next to him lowers his voice and says mysteriously.

"The winner this time, besides being able to take up an official post, can also receive personal instruction from Master Zhou!"

"That is personal instruction from a Great Master; it is worth at least several years of hard cultivation!"

...

Inside Wenxin Hall.

Su Qinghe is dressed in a simple and elegant long dress, with a refined temperament.

She stands outside the platform, gently smoothing the wrinkles on her sleeves.

As the Senior Sister of Wenxin Hall and a previous winner, she should attend this grand event.

But at this moment, her beautiful face carries a hint of irrepressible worry.

"Senior Sister!"

A Disciple beside her rushes over, forehead covered in sweat, voice filled with anxiety.

"It is bad, Senior Sister, many of our Disciples cannot be contacted!"

Su Qinghe's expression changes slightly, her fingers gripping her sleeves tighten.

"Which ones?"

"Yu Shang, Zhu Yue, Wei Zhaoming... They have been out of contact since yesterday, and no one knows where they went."

Hearing this, Su Qinghe's expression sinks completely.

During this period, the turmoil targeting the Disciples of Wenxin Hall has been growing.

Many Disciples have been persecuted and threatened in the dark.

It was only after the imperial court specially sent people to protect them that the situation improved slightly.

"Could it be that they came for the translation records Teacher has?"

Su Qinghe furrows her brows, pondering in her heart.

"It should not be; that is not the original, just a translated fragment. Even if they got it, it would be useless."

She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

"Notify Teacher of this news immediately."

Su Qinghe turns to look at the Disciple, her tone unquestionable.

"And notify the Demon Suppression Division and the Six Doors, tell them to send more people!"

"Yes!"

...

...

The Poetry Conference officially begins.

Chen Ran stands on the periphery of the square, quietly watching the movements on the field.

Everything proceeds according to the normal process.

Scholars take the stage to compose poems, drawing applause from the whole hall, and then receive generous rewards.

Some stutter due to nervousness, causing a burst of laughter from the audience.

Chen Ran's gaze sweeps over the audience, and he raises his eyebrows slightly.

He keenly notices that more and more Martial Artists are appearing at the scene.

Although these people are wearing ordinary clothes, their steady stance and the faint fluctuations of Qi and blood cannot hide from his eyes.

"It seems tonight will not be peaceful."

Chen Ran thinks to himself, silently placing his hand on the hilt of the saber at his waist.

He came here this time, firstly to watch the excitement, and secondly to see if he could encounter any good prey.

However, from the looks of it, it is still relatively calm for now.

Just then, a commotion breaks out in the crowd.

"Look, it is Constable Lin from the Six Doors!"

Chen Ran looks in the direction of the voice.

He sees Lin Wan wearing the capable uniform of the Six Doors, with a long sword at her waist, walking into the field with big strides, leading a team of constables.

Her delicate features carry a heroic spirit, and her eyes are sharp as knives, scanning the surrounding crowd.

Chen Ran's expression is calm, looking over just like the people around him.

He has changed his appearance and hidden his aura, so unless he takes the initiative to strike, the other party will definitely not recognize him.

So he is not very nervous.

"Constable Lin, please, this way."

A manager of Wenxin Hall hurriedly greets her, his attitude respectful.

"Master Zhou has instructed that for tonight's security, we will have to trouble the people from the Six Doors."

Lin Wan nods slightly, her gaze sweeping across the square, her voice cold and clear.

"It is my duty. However, the formation tonight seems to be much larger than in previous years."

She keenly notices the hidden Martial Artists in the crowd, her gaze gathering in the middle of a platform.

"Constable Lin has sharp eyes."

Just then, a hearty voice comes from not far away.

Everyone looks in the direction of the sound.

A young man carrying a wide, heavy sword is seen walking over.

The youth has sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes, his spine as straight as a spear, and his whole body radiates a strong sense of justice.

Although that heavy sword has not been drawn, just carrying it on his back gives people a very strong oppressive force.

"Zhengyang Sword Sect, He Linfeng."

The youth walks in front of Lin Wan, cups his hands slightly, his tone neither humble nor arrogant.

"On the orders of my Sect, I have come to observe the ceremony at Wenxin Hall."

"So it is a high Disciple of the Zhengyang Sword Sect."

A flash of surprise passes through Lin Wan's eyes, and she returns the salute.

The Zhengyang Sword Sect is a famous righteous Sect in the Jianghu, and its Disciples have always taken acting chivalrously as their duty.

"Young Hero He, why are you not cultivating in your Sect, but have time to join in the fun of this Poetry Conference?"

Lin Wan asks tentatively.

He Linfeng's gaze is open and honest, speaking bluntly.

"To tell you the truth, there have been undercurrents in the capital recently, and many evil outsiders have sneaked in."

"My master is worried that something might happen to Wenxin Hall, so he ordered us to come and look after it."

Hearing the words "evil outsiders," Lin Wan's eyes immediately become sharp.

"It seems our goal is the same."

Chen Ran stands in the crowd, listening clearly to the conversation between the two.

"A True Disciple of the Zhengyang Sword Sect, a famous constable of the Six Doors..."

Chen Ran touches his chin, a playful arc curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Now there will be a good show to watch."

The competition proceeds to the final stage, and the winner is a young girl from a literary family, who draws applause from the crowd with a quatrain.

On the platform, Zhou Jingzhi stands up, preparing to award the prize to the final winner.

The eyes of the whole audience are focused on this Great Master.

Just then.

Boom!

A dull, loud noise suddenly comes from the roof beams of a restaurant in the distance.

Immediately after, a creepy, strange laughter echoes in the night sky.

"Hehehe..."

That laughter seems to pierce directly through people's eardrums and into the depths of their minds.

Everyone in the square feels a stinging pain in their eardrums, and many scholars with weaker cultivation cover their ears and squat on the ground in pain.

Chen Ran furrows his brows and looks up.

Under the moonlight, several figures exuding eerie Devilish Qi are standing quietly on the roof beams.

The leader is wearing a black robe, with a withered face and hands as sharp as eagle claws.

And standing beside him is a young man with a pale face and playful eyes.

The cold Devilish Qi permeates instantly, and the surrounding temperature seems to drop by a few degrees.

The originally noisy square instantly falls into a dead silence.