Stop it, Taoist, Your Fight almost Ruins the DAO!

"Everyone on the ship is a noble, and I, a poor scholar, only have my 'Divine Power' worthy of mention. It's not that I'm unwilling, but truly, I have no face for it," Yi Chen said with a smile as he refused.

He didn't want to play with this group of brats at all.

"Eh, isn't Young Master Zhang looking down on me?"

"I, Ye Rusuang, never care about whether my friends are wealthy or influential, since none of them are as rich or powerful as I am. I simply look at whether we have a connection," Ye Rusuang said.

Yi Chen: "...."

Ye Rusuang's words involuntarily reminded him of a handsome guy from his past life. Unable to resist the man's persistent invitation, Yi Chen joined him in the rear cabin.

When he arrived, the expressions of the many young masters and ladies there varied: some remained unchanged, some scrutinized, some smiled, but none spoke out to mock him.

Yi Chen knew it wasn't just because they had good manners; it was a normal aristocratic talent for observing words and expressions.

Those from noble families who constantly demean others regardless of the situation aren't that common because such dim-witted individuals are rarely allowed to leave the confines of their own family's influence.

The people in the rear cabin, whether they had boarded midway or came together with Ye Rusuang, were actually all revolving around her like stars around the moon.

Since Yi Chen was brought by Ye Rusuang, speaking against him would be like slapping Ye Rusuang's face, wouldn't it?

"Young Master Zhang's arrival is timely; we were just composing poetry. It's more lively with more people," said a fair-faced young master, whose body exuded a faint aura of Mana, but his eyes were discreetly fixed on Ye Rusuang, filled with affection.

However, Ye Rusuang was clearly acquainted with the fair-faced young master and wasn't buying his act, responding with laughter as she suggested: "We are all cultured individuals. Since we've encountered each other aboard this ship, why not use the ship as our theme and showcase our poetic talents?"

In this circle, when the center figure speaks, even a fart would be attentively listened to—such is the truth.

Upon this suggestion, everyone praised it and applauded enthusiastically.

"I'll start and set the mood," declared the fair-faced young master without a trace of embarrassment, warming up the crowd. After pacing seven steps, he clapped with a smile, "I've got it."

"Together we jest on southern waters, hand in hand we board the carved vessel."

"The boat moves, parting fine waves, the wind disperses, stirring the floating fragrance."

The poem wasn't bad and fitted the setting. Yi Chen looked at the man in surprise, joining the others in applause.

Miss A: "Such a nice poem, Young Master Nan is indeed talented."

Miss B: "The use of 'parting' and 'stirring' is truly exquisite."

Young Master A: "I think Young Master Nan's seven-step verse shall become a delightful anecdote."
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…

Yi Chen: "I think the same, everyone is right!"

Everyone cast a sidelong glance for a moment.

Yi Chen didn't care about the odd looks from the others; he was far more interested in the pastries on the table, for he was steadily eating with an unpleasant but consistent pace.

Unnoticed, he had devoured a third of the pastries on the banquet table.

"The wind stirs, clouds move, the heavens stay still; the water pushes, the boat advances, the shore remains still."

Another person took up the verse, eliciting another round of applause and commentary.

Yi Chen: "I think the same, everyone is right!"

…

"A sunny day stirs the waters of the south; sunset ebbs and flows in the rapid waves"

…

Yi Chen: "I think the same, everyone is right!"

At that moment, Yi Chen placed the last piece of gold-threaded cake into his mouth and finally someone couldn't stand it anymore—among them was a snob.

A young lady named Sun Feiyan gritted her teeth and said with a strained smile, "Young Master Zhang San has quite an appetite. So much time has passed, you must have a fully formed poem by now, don't you?"

She felt aggrieved in her heart; she loved the gold-threaded cake the most.

Thus, she wanted to see Yi Chen embarrass himself in public.

Unfortunately, she underestimated the thickness of someone's skin.

Yi Chen wiped his mouth, puffed up his chest, and said proudly, "I can't~"

"What are you proud of, you scoundrel~" Sun Feiyan had little devils roaring in her head.

Ye Rusuang had also never seen someone like Yi Chen, so self-absorbed, completely unlike others. When there was a beautiful woman nearby, rather than acting dignified and serious, or showing off, he was utterly different.

And this Young Master Zhang San, whom she had met midway, turned out to be such an extraordinary character.

This made her even more interested in Yi Chen; initially, it was her sixth sense that made her vaguely realize his unique temperament, prompting the invite. Now, observing his behavior, she found him truly remarkable.

"Someone, bring a few more plates of the gold-threaded cake," Ye Rusuang ordered as she clapped her hands. Two maids with buns on their heads each brought two plates of the cake.

Seeing Ye Rusuang's expression, Young Master Nan couldn't help but change to a look of resentment.

Despite his efforts to please and flatter, Ye Rusuang hadn't given him an extra glance, and now she was paying special attention to a poor scholar who had boarded halfway through the journey.

That poor scholar really did have some cunning, using such a do-or-die method to attract the attention of the woman he himself wanted to claim—truly malicious.

He couldn't help but smile in a tea-colored, cheerful manner, "I wonder where Master Zhang's family lives. Since poetry isn't your fancy, what are your usual hobbies?"

"Me, Zhang San, long ago pawned my family's wealth. Now I'm just a poor scholar, better not to mention the past. As for hobbies, I like to visit the brothel," he said.

"The first time I went to the brothel, I picked eight girls. How about that, doesn't it sound bold? A full eight!" Yi Chen gestured the number eight with his hands, his demeanor resembling a famous director known as the State Preceptor.

"Rogue, you've overdone it now, you've truly chosen a path to your death!" Young Master Nan cheered inwardly, maintaining a warm and gentle smile on the surface, "Eight, indeed very bold!"

"But Master Zhang, let me offer you a word of advice—too much of anything isn't good."

"Here's a saying for you."

"All the world loves the Immortal's Cave, unaware it's also the Seam of the Coffin."

Yi Chen chuckled and stood tall.