A minor nuisance.

Just as Cao Minghua was about to signal the boatman to change course, Zhang Ling leapt onto the small craft. Before the two men on the boat could fully react, Zhang Ling grabbed Cao Minghua and jumped again. The small boat rocked but did not capsize, though both men were left shaken.

Zhang Ling looked down once more and called to the boatman, "Old man, you head back first. This is my friend; I will bring him back later."

The boatman looked at Cao Minghua, and seeing his employer nod, he rowed away.

People on the pleasure boat began to shout, "Who are you? How can you just board someone else's boat like that?"

The one shouting was a robust, muscular young man. Scions of military families often had short tempers after practicing martial arts. His companion interjected, "Since you were able to board our boat, brother, it is fate that we meet. Why not become friends?"

Zhang Ling smoothed his sleeves. He had originally intended to give away the fifteen taels he carried that day, but if a friend was worth fifteen taels, it was a bargain. He cupped his hands and said, "I am Zhang Ling. May I ask your names?"

The more refined young man replied, "I am Qiu Luo, and this is my younger brother, Qiu Hong. Our father is Qiu Bingran, Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites. I see you were on the Ye family's boat, yet you do not share their surname. Given your skills, I assume you are a scion of another house or a guest retainer."

Not two houses? It was one. Zhang Ling’s previous assumption had been wrong. However, it seemed both these men and the Ye family mirrored the imperial court’s structure, with one focused on literature and the other on martial arts. It was likely a custom adopted by all the great families to prevent internal friction—a truly clever move by the people of Chenliu.

Zhang Ling replied, "The former."

Qiu Hong said excitedly, "Today is a gathering for scholars, and since you are a martial artist, you probably aren't interested. How about it? Shall we spar?"

On the Ye family’s boat, Ren Pingsheng shot him a look. Zhang Ling felt rather speechless; he was clearly the elder, so why was he being bossed around?

Zhang Ling cupped his hands again. "My brother wishes to speak with this gentleman. Let me deliver him first, and then I will spar with you, how about that?"

Qiu Hong stepped aside and said, "Don't run off. I don't have your light-foot skills to jump over there."

Zhang Ling nodded. The two walked to the other side of the boat, and Zhang Ling carried Cao Minghua across. The two men exchanged a bow, and then Ren Pingsheng led Cao Minghua into the cabin, though it was unclear what they intended to discuss. Meanwhile, Qiu Hong began to urge him, "Come back once you've delivered him. Don't be a coward, or I'll start shouting."

Seeing this, Ye Yuhuan laughed, "Brother Zhang, you truly are something else. You manage to stir up trouble even at a small poetry gathering."

Zhang Ling bypassed Ye Yuhuan and said to Song Linjie, "Song Linjie, why don't you try?"

Song Linjie shook his head. "Too weak. No interest. I only fight first-rank experts now."

Zhang Ling scolded, "Don't you realize you've become incredibly arrogant in the last month?"

Song Linjie realized then that his temperament had indeed become increasingly restless. It wasn't that he underestimated his opponents, but rather a growing sense of haughtiness and dominance. Upon closer reflection, he realized he was becoming more like his grandfather.

Song Linjie pondered for a moment and said, "It’s probably the technique I’m practicing. But I notice my father and Senior Brother Li haven't changed. I'll have to ask my grandfather about the reason when I get home."

Ye Yumi, who had been itching to join the fun, jumped out. "If you guys won't go, I will. I’ve been in the academy for so long without fighting anyone from the outside, and no one inside the academy can beat me. I need a fight to regain some confidence."

Zhang Ling gave an indifferent smile and gestured for him to go.

The two boats were about five meters apart. Before climbing the mountain, Ye Yumi wouldn't have dared to jump directly, but his current skills were more than sufficient. He leapt, landing squarely on the railing. This surprised Qiu Luo; the people on the Ye family’s boat did not seem like ordinary scions. At the very least, based on the skills displayed by these two, they were clearly top-tier talents among the younger generation.

Ye Yumi landed on the deck and stretched. "He is better than me. Beat me first before you look for him."

Qiu Hong was incensed. To be told he had to pass a test just to get a spar was an insult. He puffed out his chest and said in a deep voice, "Fine. I’ll see what kind of capital you have for your arrogance. But let’s be clear: I won't hold back. Don't blame me if you end up crippled."

Ye Yumi stood proudly, hooked his fingers, and said dismissively, "Come on then!"

Qiu Hong charged headlong. He figured that with his "Raging Ox Rams the Mountain" technique, someone with such a slight frame would be incapacitated if he made contact.

Ye Yumi didn't dodge. He casually reached out, grabbed Qiu Hong’s shoulder, turned to the side, and used his momentum to toss him. Qiu Hong nearly fell off the boat; he slammed his hand against the railing to stabilize himself, and the force of the impact snapped the wood. It wasn't just his own momentum; as Ye Yumi diverted his direction, he had added a matching force to his shoulder, preventing him from stopping.

Qiu Hong dared not underestimate this seemingly frail fellow. He assumed a standard defensive stance, but as they probed each other, he suddenly dived low for a sweeping kick at Ye Yumi’s base.

Ye Yumi stepped back, raised his other foot, and slammed it down. Qiu Hong failed to react in time, and Ye Yumi’s foot landed directly on his ankle. As he retracted his leg to stand, Ye Yumi launched a palm strike. Knowing he couldn't dodge with his injured ankle, Qiu Hong braced himself to take the hit.

He stood there, waiting to be knocked into the water, but Ye Yumi stopped his hand an inch from his chest, withdrew, and smiled, "Again."

Qiu Hong seemed to forget he had already lost. Feeling slighted, he rushed forward in a heat of anger. Because of his injured leg, he couldn't use kicks and relied on a flurry of hooks and punches. Unfortunately for him, Ye Yumi’s "Mituo Hand"—unlike the rigid, forceful style of typical Buddhist martial arts—focused on overcoming hardness with softness, much like Wudang Taiji. However, it was distinct: while Taiji balanced hardness and softness, the Mituo Hand was designed to add fuel to the opponent's own force, disrupting their rhythm. It excelled in softness, though it lacked devastating finishing blows, making it difficult to end a fight quickly.

Seeing Ye Yumi only dodging and not attacking, Qiu Hong grew furious. He didn't realize that this was the nature of the technique. Ye Yumi wasn't mocking him; he was simply parrying until an opening appeared. Fortunately, this style consumed very little internal energy, which was why he had been able to spar with Song Linjie for so long.

Qiu Hong played right into his hands. After a few exchanges, he was wide open. Ye Yumi tapped his forehead with a palm, and Qiu Hong, still preparing his next punch, collapsed to the ground.

As Qiu Hong stood up and stomped on the deck in frustration, Qiu Luo coughed to interrupt him. "Don't break the boat."