My Wife Is A Sword Immortal-Chapter 83 - 72: I Bet with You

Chapter 83: Chapter 72: I Bet with You

Zhao Rong, overwhelmed with grief and anger, discovered that despite practicing so hard for so many days, he still couldn’t outmatch Su Xiaoxiao.

“Let go quickly! Many people are watching!” Zhao Rong gritted his teeth and whispered.

“Please don’t go, this has nothing to do with you. After the argument, let’s hurry away,” the little Fox Demon pleaded, her face wrinkled, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

Zhao Rong, with a speechless expression, looked at the familiar scene before him, glanced awkwardly around, quickly let go of his grip, and dared not pull any longer. If it ended up like last time, with his robe torn by this young lady, and this time in front of a large crowd… he imagined he might socially die.

Zhao Rong withdrew his hand, his face stern, “Let go!”

Su Xiaoxiao looked at him with pitiable eyes, but saw that he was unmoved, his gaze firm.

She gently lowered her head, not daring to look at him, and slowly loosened her grip. The white robe slipped through her fingers.

Seeing this, Zhao Rong’s heart softened, but he now had more important things to do, and said gently, “Sorry, just wait for me to come back.”

With that, he turned and walked away under the gaze of thousands.

Behind him, Su Xiaoxiao stood silently with her head bowed for a while, then suddenly puffed her cheeks, her narrow, sparkling, crystalline fox-eyes slightly narrowed as she raised her head to watch the slim, shadowy figure of the man.

When he stood up to save me on the ferry, was it also like this? Is this what great-grandmother calls the “childishness” of some men, which is both ridiculous and endearing?

The next second, the little Fox Demon moved, not returning to the crowd, but walking forward, ignoring the glances from all around, and followed the man.

Zhao Rong paid no attention to Su Xiaoxiao behind him; he approached where the scholars were and was about to speak when Lin Wenruo suddenly pulled him aside.

Lin Wenruo shook his head at Zhao Rong.

Zhao Rong whispered lowly, “Lin Wenruo, what the hell are you playing at? Can’t you be a little more timid? As long as Qingshan is there, why fear no firewood? Why the need to be a martyr?”

Lin Wenruo silently looked at him.

Zhao Rong immediately turned to the old scholar and said, “Sorry, sir, could we possibly change the last bet Wenruo just made…?”

As he spoke, he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his robe and gently placed it on the nearby table, “Could we use this instead…”

“No way!” Master Qingjing interrupted.

“No matter what you put forth as a substitute, it won’t do! We agreed to stake his life on this. If you want to back out now, we might as well call off today’s debate on Confucianism,” he said.

Master Qingjing coldly glared at the silent Lin Wenruo.

When this man returned to the country, how well I treated him, preparing a dowry of immense value to marry my daughter to him, and helping to spread his good name to pave his path in office.

And what happened?

It turned out that he had been harboring ill intentions all along, an ungrateful wolf, just like his restless father.

When he first returned to the country, I and the king considered giving him a high ministerial position directly, but he excused himself, starting from scratch, entering the imperial examinations, step by step securing his way into the court. I thought he was trying to build his reputation, and I even cooperated in promoting him, but little did I know it was to prepare for today’s betrayal, to prevent his roots from being unstable and giving me leverage.

Such wolfish ambitions! You, Lanxi Lin, were a dog raised by me. Seeing you obedient and tame over the years, I loosened your leash a bit. But I never imagined that today you would bite back!

Thinking of this, Master Qingjing’s nostrils flared, and the Flowing Bead in his hand spun even faster.

Being decisively rejected, Zhao Rong took a deep breath, glanced at Lin Wenruo.

The latter gave him a reassuring look, “Don’t worry about the stakes, we can win,” then slightly nodded, signaling him to leave quickly.

Zhao Rong pursed his lips, offered no response, but suddenly turned and stared directly at Master Qingjing, his gaze unabashedly sweeping over him.

Zhao Rong’s gaze moved from Master Qingjing’s head to his feet, scrutinizing his robe that had been passed down for a thousand years within Zhongnan Country or Chongxu Temple, and… the string of Flowing Bead in his hand.

The core of the Thunder and Rainbow Purple Gold Furnace is right here!

Now at such close range, Zhao Rong examined it and found that the number of beads in this string was very high, roughly counting to eighty-one, symbolizing the Daoist Ancestor’s transformation and the number of ninety-nine times of pure Yang.

Moreover, each bead was different in color and material; according to Gui, the core made from the Kui Bull Demon Pill was one of the black beads.

However, there were several black beads inside, and Zhao Rong could not tell which one was the right bead at the moment, and there was no time to ask Gui either, just feeling amazed at Gui’s divine sense in his heart.

Zhao Rong’s gaze was audacious.

Daoist Qingjing frowned and stopped the turning of the Flowing Bead in his right hand. Eventually, seeing Zhao Rong’s gaze move downward, staring directly at his belly—right where his right hand was stationed. Daoist Qingjing suddenly recalled a fashionably elegant manner popular among the esteemed circles of Zhongnan Country, and his face darkened.

Daoist Qingjing waved his sleeve in reprimand, “Impertinent boy, cease your insolence!”

No sooner had he spoken than he turned to an old man quietly watching and drinking, “Scholar, pay no heed to these vulgar antics, and let us start our refined discussion sooner.”

But as soon as he finished speaking, Zhao Rong bowed respectfully toward the Scholar Liuyi, “May I ask the venerable sir to wait a moment longer.”

The old man shook his wine gourd, sniffed at its mouth, and spoke languidly, “Speak quickly, do not waste time.”

Zhao Rong complied.

Daoist Qingjing’s expression cooled slightly as he glanced sideways at Zhao Rong.

Lin Wenruo watched from the side, unsure what his good friend was up to.

Su Xiaoxiao stood quietly a step behind Zhao Rong, her little head tilted back as she intently watched his profile, her mind entirely focused on him.

Zhao Rong ignored the gazes from all around, and once more scrutinized Daoist Qingjing from head to toe, curiously asking, “May I ask, who are you?”

Daoist Qingjing immediately tightened his grip on the Flowing Bead in his hand, his eyes brimming with coldness, but amidst so many spectators, he still answered with a calm tone.

“State Preceptor of Zhongnan Country, Qingjing.”

Zhao Rong paid him no heed, instead pointing at Daoist Qingjing and turning to ask Lin Wenruo, “Is what this guy saying true?”

Lin Wenruo raised an eyebrow, glanced at Zhao Rong’s expression, and nodded.

Zhao Rong looked enlightened. “So this guy is Qingjing, the State Preceptor of your Zhongnan Country…”

The next second.

An ordinary-looking young Confucian suddenly flashed a radiant smile at Daoist Qingjing, revealing white teeth sincerely, “May I ask, do you qualify?”

When he spoke, the crowd erupted.

Daoist Qingjing squinted his eyes and licked his lips without speaking, his gaze fixated on the Confucian Scholar, whose cultivation was five great realms below his own.

Zhao Rong declared loudly, “Though I am just a learner with shallow knowledge, I do understand that a State Preceptor, being a teacher to the entire nation, must not be appointed unless he possesses eminent virtue and outstanding ability.”

After speaking, the young Confucian reviewed the State Preceptor from head to toe once more; he sighed and sincerely said, “I’m sorry, but I still feel you do not qualify!”

Daoist Qingjing took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring and his lips twitching as he barely managed to squeeze out, “Impudent fool, indulging in eloquence, utterly disrespectful!”

“What did you say? Speak up, did you not eat?” Zhao Rong leaned his ear towards him and then shook his head.

Seeing that enough animosity had been stirred, the young Confucian moderated his expression, looked around at everyone, extended an index finger towards the glaring Daoist wearing a purple and yellow robe not far from him, and said calmly:

“I bet you, if I win, strip off your National Master Robe and let me wear it.”

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