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For Mi Bai, this farewell was destined to be very sentimental.

Because he didn’t know when he would see Mr. Xu again.

It could be three years, or five years, or even ten years, or perhaps never again.

Even though he didn’t care about the affairs of Xiling, Mr. Xu’s feat of suppressing the nobility of Xiling with a single sword was widely known. Those saintly figures in the stories circulated in the streets and lanes always gave him a sense of unreality.

Although he had witnessed Mr. Xu’s show of strength against the Fierce Realm and even his heroic stance wielding the golden dragon sword, during the days he spent with him, he always managed to forget Mr. Xu’s identity as a warrior. He only remembered Mr. Xu’s innocence and his passionate love for painting and calligraphy. If there was a kindred spirit in this world, Mi Bai believed it was the two of them.

However, he was aware that the way of painting and calligraphy was everything to him, but for Mr. Xu, he had more important matters. After all, on top of Red Cloud Mountain, Mr. Xu had once softly whispered his dreams under the vast expanse of red clouds.

The two of them were ultimately different.

His dream was to raise a child, while Mr. Xu’s was to become the Saint Lord of the Xu Clan. In the process of pursuing their dreams, they would inevitably drift apart, and perhaps one day, when they looked back, they wouldn’t even be able to find each other’s silhouette.

But Mi Bai would never forget the exceptional swordsman who descended from the heavens on a star-moon coral rhino, who claimed that he would not save people and only kill.

Friends are destined to part ways one day, but the bond remains forever. Mi Bai turned around, took out two painting tubes from his backpack and smiled at the two gentlemen who were having a drinking game.

Mr. Xu was indeed pouring a bottle of wine into his mouth, head tilted back, and there were several bottles scattered on the table.

In just a short while, they had already downed sixteen bottles of wine, and the maidservant had already made three trips back and forth.

Thump, thump, thump-

Mr. Xu sucked the last drop from the eighth bottle of bamboo leaf liquor, gave a “ha~” of satisfaction, set the empty bottle down, and belched.

“Brother,” after downing eight bottles of exquisite wine, Mr. Xu finally felt the aftereffects of the bamboo leaf liquor: “Your tolerance for alcohol has improved! You already have half of my capacity!”

Facing this boasting, Tang Luo merely sipped the last bit of exquisite wine calmly, neatly arranged the wine bottles in front of him, and asked with a smile, “I haven’t even started yet, how come you seem ready to fall?”

With the improved body resilience and the assurance of the Void Stomach, from today onwards, you can call me the God of Wine- Tang Luo thought with hidden delight.

The saintly gentleman who simply drank on pure capacity had no idea about all these and could only try to hold his rank.

“Who said I’m about to fall- *belch~*” Mr. Xu’s face grew redder and redder as he argued, “You fall first! I’m not falling! *belch~*”

If it weren’t for these incessant belches, his words would certainly have carried more credibility. Mi Bai laughed, “Mr. Xu, take a break. And you too, Brother Tang. I have a gift for both of you.”

“A gift!?” Upon hearing this, Mr. Xu’s attention immediately turned to Mi Bai. He scratched the back of his head and laughed sheepishly, “Oh, that’s too kind, haha, haha.”

I don’t see any traces of you being shy, Tang Luo looked at his cousin’s expression and chuckled internally.

Mr. Xu’s demeanor also amused Mi Bai, but being a humble gentleman seemed to include training in holding back laughter, he just raised the corners of his mouth slightly, handing over a bamboo-made painting cylinder to Mr. Xu and the other wooden one to Tang Luo.

“I got one too?” Tang Luo accepted the painting cylinder without any awkwardness, considering Mi Bai a friend by now.

Before entering the minor spiritual realm, he asked Uncle Fu to pretend to rent the yard to Mi Bai.

With Chang Fu’s ability, this was done perfectly. What surprised Tang Luo was that when he returned, Chang Fu told him that Mi Bai was a true gentleman who could be entrusted with an important role if he were inducted into the family.

Curious about why the normally rigorous Chang Fu would praise someone like that, Tang Luo inquired about the reason.

It turned out that after Shao Bai had moved into the deserted yard, he did not treat the yard as his own property. As soon as Chang Fu revealed his identity, Mi Bai immediately apologized and respectfully handed over a worn money pouch that he had somehow produced.

The money was saved from when Mi Bai was working as a clerk at Qingfeng Bank, as well as what was left over from his stall. Since the day Mi Bai gathered the orphans in the deserted yard, he had been saving this “rent money”, just waiting for the owner of the yard to show up.

Mi Bai had always been poor, but even in his poverty, he had never considered using this part of the rent money because he believed that it was his duty.

As the steward of the Tang Family, Chang Fu had seen many people and over time had developed a set of experiences. For example, one should observe a person’s integrity in times of poverty, and those who can uphold their ethical standards despite being destitute are destined for better days.

When one has accomplished their goals, one should observe their moral conduct, those who remain humble and unassuming despite their wealth and success will be even more prosperous.

This evaluation put Tang Luo at ease and made him drop his guard towards Mi Bai, because he saw the gratitude in Mi Bai’s heart.

Becoming friends with someone who is capable of feeling thankful is a joyful experience.

On the other hand, Mr. Xu did not have much thought about it. The moment he took the painting cylinder, he impatiently opened it. As soon as he uncapped it, a scent of ink pleasantly filled his nostrils.

“Oh- Yuan ink, you’ve really outdone yourself, Mi Bai!” As a great enthusiast of the art of calligraphy, Mr. Xu was very familiar with all kinds of stationery from across the lands.

The finest ink and inkstones in the world are undoubtedly Yuan ink.

Yuan ink is produced in the Tunsui and Heyu cities of Yuanzhou. It is made with over ten different precious materials such as tung oil smoke, musk, borneol, gold foil, and pearl powder, and the process is complicated.

The finished product, known for being light to the touch, clear when polished, pleasant when smelled, as hard as jade, silent when grinding, jet-black from just a dot, yet lasting for ages, is deemed a necessity by painters and calligraphers in Yuanzhou.

Mr. Xu was well aware of the circumstances surrounding Mi Bai, so the fact that he was willing to use yuan ink for his painting made him even more excited to see the final product.

Upon unrolling the painting, a magnificent image of a sea of clouds jumped onto paper. The dense ink outlined the details; the light ink provided the contrast; the watercolor added the finishing touch. A flight of steps extended mysteriously from the clouds, going upwards.

The Red Cloud Peak shot up into the sky like a divine sword ready to pierce through the heavens. However, the peak was missing a corner where three young men, in different postures, were looking out at the sea of clouds. One of them was standing with his hands behind his back near the edge of the cliff; another was sitting cross-legged to his left, and the last one was casually leaning against a rock.

Wasn’t this the scene where the three of them were reciting their aspirations on the summit of Red Cloud Peak? The lifelike painting instantly pulled Mr. Xu’s thoughts back to that day on top of the Red Cloud Peak.

A scene from the sole masterpiece left by the Poetry Saint in the world, the three men reciting their aspirations towards the sea of clouds, plus the two people embarrassingly vomiting near the cliff edge, brought a smile to his face — he moved his eyes to the upper right corner of the scroll.

“Ode to the Mountain ? Singing aspirations in the Sea of Clouds” — Poetry Saint

The sight at the top surpasses all others, the look can humble any mountain!

Mr. Xu’s heart swelled with emotion, and the effects of the alcohol seemingly dissipated, no matter how much time passed, he would never forget the shock this poem had brought him at first..