Outside the bamboo forest cottage.
Chen Baiqing wore a warm smile as she brewed tea for Chu Xingchen, casually asking how his time at the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect had been.
Chu Xingchen offered a few offhand remarks, exchanging light banter with Chen Baiqing before letting the topic fade.
At the moment, only three people remained outside the cottage: Chu Xingchen, Chen Baiqing, and Daoist Yuyang.
Li Junzi and the others were inside, deeply engrossed in dissecting the paradox of "a white horse is not a horse."
Though the question had been raised by Chu Xingchen, he hadn’t personally engaged in the debate.
After all, the ultimate goal of such arguments was the pursuit of knowledge, not merely victory for its own sake.
Thus, the three inside were mutually refining their research, pondering the cunningly framed question.
"Master, please try this," Chen Baiqing said gently, presenting a cup of tea with both hands.
Ever since learning that her master enjoyed her tea, she had kept a complete tea set, leaves, and even water stored in her spatial ring—ready to serve the finest brew whenever he desired.
Chu Xingchen accepted the cup, took a pleased sip, then closed his eyes slightly in enjoyment.
There was something inexplicable about Chen Baiqing’s tea—something that made it exceptionally delicious. During his months at the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect, he had often missed the taste of her brew.
Naturally, he didn’t forget to praise her:
"Mmm… Xiao Baiqing’s tea is still the best."
Chen Baiqing’s smile brightened further at his words—nothing pleased her more than her master’s approval.
Chu Xingchen gestured with his cup toward Daoist Yuyang beside him.
"Pour a cup for your Uncle Yuyang too. Let him taste something truly exceptional."
Chen Baiqing obliged, silently sliding a cup toward Daoist Yuyang.
The Daoist observed the young girl’s polite smile, noting the stark contrast between her demeanor and her age.
Regardless, he couldn’t deny that the girl was extraordinarily lovely—her presence alone was soothing.
With a faint smile, Daoist Yuyang lifted the cup and took a small sip.
He hadn’t paid much mind to Chu Xingchen’s claim of "something exceptional." For one, Chu Xingchen often exaggerated—those who took his words at face value usually regretted it.
Besides, the girl was his disciple; of course he’d indulge her with praise.
Secondly, how remarkable could a child’s tea truly be? Though her movements were graceful, the art of tea was profound, and cultivators rarely devoted much time to such trivial pursuits.
With the Great Dao ahead, few would bother mastering something so inconsequential.
Yet the moment the clear, resonant flavor touched his tongue, an indescribable sensation blossomed—radiating from his taste buds straight to his spiritual sea.
It wasn’t merely delicious; it carried an extraordinary clarity, a refreshing enlightenment that seemed to open his mind.
Daoist Yuyang’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Chen Baiqing.
This tea… was indeed unlike anything he had ever tasted.
How could anyone refine the art of tea to such a level?
Originally intending to take a few polite sips, he instead drained the cup in two gulps.
Setting it down, he gazed at the empty vessel with reluctant longing.
What he had planned as a perfunctory compliment turned into genuine admiration:
"Your skill is profound. This is tea fit for the heavens."
Chu Xingchen noticed Daoist Yuyang’s unspoken desire for another cup—even Qinghe, who usually disdained tea, had unabashedly asked for seconds after her first taste.
The reluctance in Daoist Yuyang’s expression was unmistakable.
With a smirk, Chu Xingchen lifted the teapot and refilled his cup.
Daoist Yuyang glanced at him. Though the man’s words could be sharp, his character was beyond reproach—never abandoning allies in battle, never stingy with sharing treasures.
This trip hadn’t been in vain. The only regret was not knowing when he’d taste such tea again.
Where had Chu Xingchen even found such an exceptional disciple? Skilled in tea, pleasing to the eye…
Chen Baiqing paid no mind to Daoist Yuyang’s reaction, instead asking softly:
"Master, have you finished your business at the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect?"
"Not yet, but it’s close."
"Then is it alright for you to be here now?"
"Of course. Nothing is more important than my disciples. If they truly need me there, they’ll let me know."
Chu Xingchen chuckled in reply.
Chen Baiqing’s questions carried the innocent curiosity of a child seeking answers from a parent.
Daoist Yuyang remained silent, merely picking up the teapot after finishing his cup and pouring himself another with practiced ease.
Chu Xingchen observed but didn’t comment.
Whether this guy got to drink more tea depended entirely on his mood.
And as long as he wanted tea, Xiao Baiqing would eagerly brew it for him.
Ah well, consider it charity.
Leaning back in his bamboo-woven chair, Chu Xingchen listened to the whisper of the breeze.
Chen Baiqing, seeing this, also fell silent, sitting quietly beside her master as they both enjoyed the gentle rustling of the wind.
Perhaps life’s greatest joy wasn’t in grand deeds, but in having someone by your side.
At least, that was how Chen Baiqing felt now. Even in silence, her master’s presence made everything more meaningful.
Daoist Yuyang, still wordless, continued savoring cup after cup with deep satisfaction.
Under the night sky, by the pavilion.
The moon shone brilliantly tonight, casting a frost-like glow over the small pond, its surface rippling gently.
Inside the hall, the great scholars led by Chen Wenqian were still fervently writing, exchanging insights as they summarized the day’s debate.
After all, the sophistry presented by that young man, Cui Hao, had been unnervingly cunning.
This time, Cui Hao’s arguments had seemed somewhat immature, as if not fully thought through—but what about next time?
The Gentlemen’s Academy had never lost a debate, and not solely due to the Sage’s legacy.
It was because they approached every argument with the utmost seriousness.
And here, gathered in this room, were the greatest scholars of the mortal realm. Through mutual discussion, they could refine their understanding and elevate their knowledge.
Every man had his strengths and weaknesses.
Though Chen Wenqian regretted Li Junzi’s choice, he respected it—for respecting Li Junzi’s decision was to respect the man himself.
Setting down his brush, Chen Wenqian glanced at the stacks of notes filled with critical annotations.
Each renowned scholar present had prepared extensively in their respective fields of expertise.
Even after debating Cui Hao, they had studied the strange twists of sophistry, leaving no stone unturned.
Their goal was absolute preparedness.
No trick of rhetoric could withstand the light of truth.
Sophistry was but a petty art!
Several days later.
Inside the debate hall.
Chen Wenqian and the assembled scholars took their seats, their gazes turning toward Li Junzi, who had abruptly skipped the preparatory phase and launched straight into the debate.
The attendees had barely settled in.
Chen Wenqian hadn’t even had the chance to greet Li Junzi or exchange pleasantances.
Nor had he inquired about the identities of the two unfamiliar men who had suddenly appeared.
Then, without preamble, Cui Hao stood and posed his question with unbridled confidence:
"I have a simple question for Dean Chen."
Chen Wenqian, sensing the challenge in Cui Hao’s tone, remained composed but vigilant as he replied:
"Ask freely."
"Tell me, is a white horse a horse?"
Chen Wenqian pondered for a moment, unsure whether this had any connection to Ma (horse) or if it was merely Cui Hao playing mind games. In the end, he calmly replied:
"Of course, it is a horse."
Cui Hao smiled in satisfaction upon hearing this:
"Yet I believe a white horse is not a horse."