43 A formidable foe (1/2)

She didn't live through the following day. Peng Jipei, who had cried and screamed in denial when his mother was dying turned quiet and only stood at her side, refusing to respond to anyone that asked for his attention.

Zhao Fanyu still whined about his payment but Liu Sumeng protected Huo Tang and hid her in his robes. The Wayward Wind Sect Leader was as annoying as he was pitiful and spent his time pacing the halls with deep listless sighs.

And Peng Zhugen was still heartless. He told the mourning Peng Jipei that the boy would be thrown out the following day and that he would have to work for Zhao Fanyu to repay the hefty debt. And thus, Liu Sumeng decided to invite Peng Zhugen out for a drink, in a measly attempt to appease and warn the angry Sect Leader Peng.

But the Ivory Sword Saint wasn't good at talking, so he simply kept filling Peng Zhugen's wine bowl.

”...”

If anyone happened upon the scene they would have choked and suffocated from the pure weight of awkward tension that simmered between the two. Peng Zhugen glared as though he was trying to decipher the thoughts of an opponent in a game of chess, while Liu Sumeng responded with only a cold, stony face. They drank, and poured more wine, and drank some more.

”...” Aside from the sharp clang of wine bowls and the rustling of clothes, the hall was eerily

quiet.

”...” Seriously, no one said a word.

And after what felt like a century passed, ”I'm impressed.” Peng Zhugen hummed as he straightened his sleeves. He reached over for his bowl after Liu Sumeng topped it up.

”...Thank you.”

A moment of silence passed. ”You're better than Suye.”

And another pause before Liu Sumeng spoke, ”...That's not difficult.”

More wine was poured out. Peng Zhugen had lost track of the jugs they'd gone through. ”You are a formidable foe indeed,” The Sect Leader snickered and swirled the wine in his bowl. He seemed wearier and reluctant to keep drinking but he had no desire to admit defeat. Peng Zhugen thus decided that distracting his foe with chatter would be a good tactic. ”So you never had a chance to tell me, just what is your purpose for coming to my doorstep, Ivory Sword Saint?”

”...” Liu Sumeng observed Peng Zhugen in search of the telltale signs. Peng Zhugen was a skilled drinker compared to the average man. He did not get red-faced easily, nor did his words slur and he didn't sway in his seat either. But there were subtle things, things that Liu Sumeng had grown used to picking upon. Like how he needed to curl his entire hand around his wine bowl instead of just three fingers, and how his eyes darted around a little more often and lost focus on Liu Sumeng's face.

He became more talkative as well, ”Not going to answer? Hmph, I'll pry it out of you if I have to, Young Master Liu.”

”...” Liu Sumeng topped up Sect Leader Peng's cup again and held a toast before saying, ”Let Peng Jipei stay.”

Peng Zhugen's bowl slammed against the table and by some miracle didn't shatter. He barely managed to hold onto his composure, ”After all the trouble that boy caused me, you want me to allow him to wander freely in these halls?”

”No. But for his mother's funeral at least.”

He watched Sect Leader Peng scoff and down another bowl, ”Do you think me unkind, Ivory Sword Saint? Perhaps you might find me merciless but I must adhere to my rules and regulations. When you become Sect Leader, you will understand as well.”

Liu Sumeng reached for another jug. He didn't remember much about being Sect Leader in his past life. It felt like a time that went by like a blur. Perhaps because it was a time he despised; when his whole world was colored with red, black and gray.

The truth was, Liu Sumeng had no love for Peng Jipei and while he thought Peng Zhugen was being a little unreasonable, it wasn't exactly his place to step in on another man's family affairs. But Liu Sumeng was intent on convincing Peng Zhugen to let his younger brother stay because if he didn't Yuan Xuelan was going to raise a racket the next morning, demanding the very same thing.

More wine was poured. ”Exceptions ought to be made. He is of your blood.”