Chapter 127: Minimal Casualties

Dozens of eyes all turned sharply toward Li Yunji, faces etched with fear as whispers spread among them.

“Is this man out of his mind? How dare he speak to the Sage of Asia like that?”

“Who is this nobody?”

“Judging by his clothes, he seems to belong to no sect or school...”

The gatekeeper, seeing Li Yunji’s brazen attitude, stepped forward, ready to argue.

“Who are you?”

“How dare you be so disrespectful?!”

“Don’t you even know your place? To challenge the Sage of Asia with poetry—who do you think you are?!”

Li Yunji paid him no mind and shouted up toward the mountain peak, “Old man, are you scared?”

Han Jitong stood with his hands behind his back, immovable as a mountain.

He quietly gazed toward the sunrise, his figure ethereal like a celestial being.

“Such arrogance...” Li Yunji cursed silently.

Suddenly, Qingyuan’s blade was drawn, releasing a slash of sword energy toward Han Jitong.

Of course, it did not harm him in the slightest.

“So he’s just a crude warrior! No wonder he’s so disrespectful!” the gatekeeper shouted angrily.

He immediately took a fighting stance, as if preparing to confront Li Yunji.

“Arrogant and rude, and no honor in combat either!”

“Just wait, I’ll teach you a lesson today!”

The gatekeeper, stout and burly, leapt high, golden light flashing from his hands, clearly possessing fifth-grade strength.

Just as he was about to strike, Han Jitong’s deep voice rang out from the mountain.

“Let him come up.”

The gatekeeper froze midair, forcibly suppressing his anger, and slowly landed.

Turning, he bowed deeply toward the figure atop the mountain. “Yes, sir.”

Without a word, Li Yunji leapt up the mountain.

Su Qingmeng cast a cold glance at the gatekeeper and followed closely.

The Viewpoint Terrace was indeed breathtaking, with layers of verdant hills and swirling mist.

The rising sun accompanied the scenery.

No wonder the old man was reluctant to leave.

In front of the terrace stood a stone table and chairs, where Li Yunji and Han Jitong sat facing each other.

One could not deny that despite his lofty demeanor, the old man’s strength was truly formidable.

Merely sitting opposite him, the scholarly aura radiating from Han Jitong calmed Li Yunji’s restless heart considerably.

Han Jitong leisurely extended his right hand, two fingers guiding the mountain mist to condense into water, which gracefully flowed into a purple clay teapot on the stone table.

With a gentle flick of his sleeve, fresh tea leaves near the cliff edge detached themselves and fell into the pot.

The entire process was fluid and elegant.

Li Yunji opened his mouth several times but was silenced by Han Jitong’s piercing gaze.

Clear water flowed into the teacups, emitting a faint fragrance.

“This cup is to toast Lord Li,” Han Jitong said calmly.

He raised his cup and drank it down in one go.

Li Yunji was momentarily stunned but returned the toast.

It was not that he wished to erase their grievances, but sensing Han Jitong’s respect for the old man, he felt it improper to refuse.

“You are indeed clever, Your Highness,” Han Jitong smiled lightly. “If not for your quick thinking and that sword which made me recognize the broken blade, I would have cast you down the mountain.”

Li Yunji’s expression remained unchanged as he spoke solemnly, “Our past grievances can wait.”

“I came to see you today on urgent business.”

With a thought, Han Jitong refilled their cups.

“Judging by your demeanor, you are not here to duel in poetry,” Han Jitong chuckled lightly. “What brings you, Your Highness?”

Li Yunji drew a deep breath and straightforwardly outlined the matter.

For a full quarter of an hour, the air remained silent before Han Jitong’s face grew serious.

“How am I to believe you?”

Words alone were not proof; Han Jitong had no reason to trust Li Yunji outright.

“The Yun family has also come to Crane Mountain.”

“You only need to sense their qi to know the truth.”

A second-grade expert could perceive the aura within a ten-mile radius.

Yun Tian cultivated in the path of martial arts, so his aura differed from that of a scholar.

Han Jitong furrowed his brows and focused for a moment.

Within his mind, he indeed detected two distinct auras.

The green aura belonged to Gu Xian’er.

The faint blue light to the northwest was Yun Tian.

Han Jitong looked gravely at Li Yunji and said solemnly, “Even if what you say is true, with me guarding here, those thirty thousand private troops may not be able to ascend Crane Mountain.”

Li Yunji quickly responded, “What if that’s part of Tuoba Mu’s plan?”

Those words hit Han Jitong like a revelation.

If a sacrifice was to be made, who said it had to be the scholars on Crane Mountain?

Couldn’t those thirty thousand private soldiers serve as the offering?

If Tuoba Mu’s formation were broken, those thirty thousand elite troops indeed might not defeat Han Jitong.

“Prepare for the worst. If the situation spirals out of control, we must minimize casualties,” Li Yunji said firmly.

Yun Tian had mentioned that the only way for Mu Nanqing to break the seal was by restoring the demon soul.

So if war became unavoidable, the priority would be to reduce losses as much as possible to thwart Tuoba Mu’s plan.

Li Yunji sought out Han Jitong to dissuade him from harboring murderous intent.

“I understand,” Han Jitong said calmly.

Just then, a Confucian academy student rushed in with news.

“Sage of Asia, the Second Prince has arrived.”

Han Jitong nodded slightly.

Seeing this, Li Yunji wisely stood and cupped his hands in farewell.

As he left, he coincidentally passed the Second Prince of the Northern Desert, dressed in a white python robe.

They brushed past each other.

The Second Prince glanced back at Li Yunji’s retreating figure and asked Han Jitong, “Who is this man?”

Han Jitong smiled faintly, “The Northern Mausoleum’s heir, Li Yunji.”

“The one who wrote that poem ending with, ‘The sky unknown in the water, a boat full of clear dreams pressing the star river,’” the prince frowned, a trace of disdain flashing in his eyes. “This scoundrel looks so careless—how could he have penned such poetry?”

Han Jitong sighed inwardly and shook his head.

...

Back at the Fragrant Poetry Pavilion.

Gu Xian’er and Eleven had returned some time ago.

“Young Master,” Eleven hurried forward, “The Crown Prince has arrived.”

“Tuoba Mu came with him.”

Before she finished, Yun Tian pushed open the door.

Seeing the excitement on Yun Tian’s face, Li Yunji, who had been hopeless, suddenly felt reassured.

“Have you found the formation’s core?”

Yun Tian nodded, “Yes, but there’s bad news.”

“What is it?” Li Yunji furrowed his brows.

“The core is inside the Crown Prince’s chambers, heavily guarded.”

Indeed, bad news.

That old thief Tuoba Mu was quite scheming.

“What shall we do now?” Yun Tian asked gravely.

“Two days remain,” Li Yunji replied without hesitation. “Let’s sleep first.”

With that, he headed straight for the inviting wooden bed.

With a soft thud, he sank into the plush quilt.

Although he had reached fourth-grade cultivation and his physical condition had greatly improved, the recent exertions had truly exhausted him.

Even the donkeys in the production team were not this tired.

Seeing this, everyone exchanged glances but, hearing Li Yunji’s steady snores, gradually dispersed.

Only Su Qingmeng left and returned.

She sat by the table, propping her chin on her hand, gazing blankly at Li Yunji’s peaceful slumber, a faint smile unconsciously curling her lips.

She did not know when it began, but even she was unaware that she often found herself staring at Li Yunji like this, lost in thought.

When Li Yunji investigated the Imperial City Guard case in the capital.

When he stood up for Mao Shanming in Jiangnan.

During the assassination in Shu Prefecture.

When he devised a way to break the Eternal Moment.

And now...