At a quarter past dawn, the rosy light was almost drenching the entire sky.

In Yunjiang Prefecture City, the pedestrians were still going about their usual routines.

These early risers had all sorts of identities.

They might be clerks in some shop, laborers in alleyways, or countryside farmers bringing their goods into the city at dawn…

Of course, there were also barbers, masons, carpenters, painters, doctors, scholars…

Or perhaps, they were idle wanderers, wealthy families' stewards making purchases, or even night-soil carriers…

No matter their status, at this moment, their existence was much the same.

Naturally, this also included Cui Yunqi, who was riding a dashing snow-stepping horse, accompanied by a steward and dressed in splendid attire, full of spirit.

Cui Yunqi had once imagined many paths to fame for Chen Xu.

He had even designed numerous paths for Chen Xu, and with someone as clever as Cui Fu to handle affairs, Cui Yunqi surmised that as long as Chen Xu had real talent, he would undoubtedly leave a significant mark in Yunjiang Prefecture.

The poetry gathering at the Long Pavilion hosted by Cui Jingxian was merely the first stop.

Of course, it was also possible that Chen Xu lacked talent in poetry and faced setbacks at this first stop.

However, no matter, Cui Yunqi had planned various chance encounters, feasts, and competitions for Chen Xu.

There would always be occasions for Chen Xu to display his extraordinary abilities in the Star Array, defeating one talent of Yunjiang after another.

If all the talents of Yunjiang bowed, then losing to such a person would not be something Cui Yunqi would resent.

Yet Cui Yunqi had not foreseen that a single poetry gathering at the Long Pavilion would involuntarily drag everyone into the Ghost Market.

In the Ghost Market, Chen Xu composed three Cyan Smoke Poems in succession, leading everyone out of a desperate situation.

Afterwards, each time Cui Yunqi listened to Cui Jingxian recount the experiences in the Ghost Market, his heart would surge again.

But the more his heart stirred, the more he sometimes regretted.

Cui Yunqi deeply lamented why he had not waited at the Long Pavilion, resulting in missing this grand event.

Hearing second-hand accounts never compared to the intense impact of witnessing it firsthand.

Among the three poems, Cui Yunqi found that each one seemed better than the last.

After transcribing them, he recited them many times, savoring them repeatedly—each time finding them more exquisite and unparalleled.

And then, he regretted even more…

Unfortunately, the matter of the Ghost Market was somewhat embarrassing, involving the reputation of many aristocratic families in Yunjiang Prefecture, and the rights and wrongs between the Feng, Wang, Wei, and Cui families.

This matter was inconvenient to spread in public.

Therefore, the three poems from the Ghost Market were currently only circulating in the small circles of the Yunjiang upper class and had yet to be quickly passed on to the public.

Cui Yunqi could indeed send someone to spread the poems, but he always felt that doing so would seem somewhat dry and lacking.

In his contemplation, he hesitated, unable even to determine his next step.

This morning, joining Cui Jingxian in seeking out Chen Xu to present a thank-you gift was merely following the course of events; concurrently, Cui Yunqi also harbored some intent to suppress the Wang Family.

Riding through the streets like this, with Cui Jingxian following behind, a horse cart full of gifts and a squad of guards further back,

the procession marched grandly, only to encounter a party from the Wang Family at a street corner.

Wang Xian, as the patriarch, had surprisingly come in person, albeit much more discreet than Cui Yunqi.

He did not ride a horse to flaunt through the streets but sat in a blue-curtained carriage.

Not many guards followed him, only one more equally unassuming carriage.

From the heavy sound of the wheels rolling, it seemed the carriage carried quite a bit.

The two parties met on a narrow path, and Cui Yunqi halted his horse with a "whoa," only cupping his hands from a distance, saying, "Dare I ask, is that Uncle Wang in the carriage? Where might Uncle Wang be heading?"

Cui Yunqi's tone subtly lacked cordiality.

If it were before the Ghost Market incident, Cui Yunqi would undoubtedly respectfully honor Wang Xian as an elder upon meeting him.

This was basic etiquette, regardless of the actual relationship between the two families, Cui Yunqi could not forgo decorum.

But after the Ghost Market incident, where Wang Ji single-handedly turned Yunjiang on its head,

Cui Jingxian of the Cui Family, as the initiator of the poetry gathering, could also be considered one of the foremost victims.

At this time, if Cui Yunqi still greeted Wang Xian respectfully as usual, it would not be humility but rather placing the Cui Family's face at the Wang Family's feet.

Wang Xian, very composed, lifted the carriage curtain, even gazing at Cui Yunqi with a gentle expression, saying, "Yesterday, my son caused some trouble; fortunately, someone saved him from a major disaster.

Today, I naturally must thank the benefactor."

With that, he cupped his hands toward the direction of the inn ahead.

Just between this gesture, a peddler standing by the roadside near Cui Yunqi remarked, "Heavens, what is that over there?

Why does it look like a blue sword ascending from the rooftop… soaring into the sky!"

By the peddler's side, idle passersby began to look up, saying, "What sword? Why do I see it more like a dragon?"

"Hey, doesn't that look more like a beam of light falling from the sky…"

"Isn't it just the rosy clouds? Why do I see purple instead of blue?"

A passerby carrying candied haws stomped in regret, "Ah, such a pity, my little girl heard the story of the Rosy Cloud Fairy a while back and said she wanted to see rosy clouds.

But how can a three-year-old girl wake up this early?

She surely won't see it this morning…"

The bustling crowd, and yet Cui Yunqi hadn't reacted.

Then he heard Cui Jingxian beside him stammering, "N-no, this, this is not just any rosy cloud pillar!

This is clearly someone creating azure smoke with poetry…

No, it's not entirely azure smoke; why does it seem there's a wisp of purple cloud within it?

Is it really illuminated by the rosy light, or is it truly…"

Before the words fell, someone next to him suddenly squeezed the horse's flank and shouted out, "Ya!"

It was Cui Yunqi, who took the lead, dashing towards the inn they had already investigated.

Beside him, Wang Xian finally reacted, hastily urging the coachman, "Quick, follow him!"

But how could a carriage ever match the speed of a fleet-footed horse?

Especially as Cui Yunqi's horse was the spirited Snow-Stepping Gale Chaser.

Witnessing that horse gallop like the wind, leaping several feet in one bound, it arrived in front of the inn in mere moments.

Cui Yunqi leapt off his horse, rushing directly into the inn.

Though Wang Xian moved swiftly, he was bound by decorum, unable to overtake Cui Yunqi.

He could only see him push aside the inquiring waiter and dash swiftly to the second floor of the inn in a few strides.

Finally, Cui Yunqi followed the sound, rushing towards a room.

But he only heard an impassioned recitation in a middle-aged man's voice within the room:

"Ten steps kill one, no trace remains a thousand miles.

Once the matter is over, I leave, deeply hiding my fame and body…

Three cups wholly pledge, five mountains fall lighter.

After blurring eyes and burning ears, pure rainbows of spirit arise…

Even in death, the chivalrous bones scent sweet, without shame to the world's heroes.

Who can write beneath? The white-headed Supreme Mysterious Scripture."

After the recitation, a long laugh followed, "What a line—'Even in death, the chivalrous bones scent sweet, without shame to the world's heroes!' Chen Xu, for this poem, one must toast a great cup. Hahaha…"

Cui Yunqi's heart sank, full of regret except for that line, "Even in death, the chivalrous bones scent sweet."

He felt as if he too had blurry eyes and burning ears, wine vapors rising from his chest to his mind.

"Who is there?"

He shouted, charging forward, forcefully pushing open the door.

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