Claiming the Throne of Gods, Starting from the Rebirth of Nezha

Mr. Fan's whereabouts, Cui Yu is actually clearer than Nezha, only just now worried about Nezha and didn't think of it for a moment.

Before, when Mr. Fan came from afar from Zhaoge, it was Cui Yu who accompanied Lady Yin to choose the house together.

Lady Yin initially wanted to arrange for Mr. Fan to stay near the General's Mansion, but Mr. Fan, having spent his life in the officialdom of Zhaoge and already weary of the bustling crowds, found a secluded bookstore and art shop that was up for transfer in the town of Lin City, and settled there.

According to the old man's words, he lived a life of poverty, and with no children in his old age, having this shop allowed him to sell his calligraphy up until his death.

The front of the shop wasn't large, with four square white walls and an old wooden counter, and there was a small rear residence. The best part was a rare sweet water well from Chentang Pass in the small courtyard at the back.

Cui Yu still remembers Mr. Fan, with his Attendant Student serving by his side, looking at this small courtyard, smiling broadly.

Mr. Fan had a good plan, to write and sell his calligraphy here, living the life of a reclusive and carefree scholar, away from the court. On the first day of his stay, he spread out silk scrolls, wrote dozens of pieces, and hung them in the house, waiting to get rich.

The dream was beautiful, but reality was stark.

His calligraphy and paintings, even in Zhaoge, were top-notch, difficult for others to acquire even for a thousand gold.

In Zhaoge, some were even willing to trade an old house in the bustling market for just a few words on a tombstone written by him. But now, having lost his previous identity as a Council Doctor, and in such a remote place as Chentang Pass, few recognized the value of his work, and it wasn't much easier to sell than the works of the bookstore owner before him, whose business was almost failing.

And so, an emaciated old man and a short, skinny Attendant Student stared at each other behind the counter for two days, while the front remained as deserted as water. Meanwhile, the seafood tavern next door saw a constant flow of patrons, and the old and the young ones next door drank for two days, ate twelve salt-baked fish, before finally welcoming the first customer.

This customer had some understanding of calligraphy and immediately favored the large central piece written by Mr. Fan, praising it eloquently and making Mr. Fan feel as if he had met a kindred spirit. But when the customer named his price, offering two silver coins, Mr. Fan could hardly believe his ears. His eyes widened with anger, and he grabbed a broom to chase the customer out.

Two silver coins could barely buy the silk he used to write his calligraphy!

The nearby Attendant Student was dumbfounded, thinking that back in Zhaoge, when his master cursed Daji for ruining the country, he didn't have such harsh words.

Unable to endure the insult, Mr. Fan closed the shop, sighing heavily every day, drinking wine and eating fish at the tavern next door. Before being hired by the General's Mansion as Nezha's teacher, the household had almost no income. If not for Lady Yin always visiting with the pretext of seeing the teacher, secretly assisting them, the household might have been out of resources long ago.

While Nezha was called by Mr. Fan, Cui Yu quickly tidied up a guest room, pulling out two slightly damp blankets from the cupboard, sighing and lamenting how a house with only men and no women really couldn't manage, setting up a rod to hang them to dry before sleep.

The central hall wasn't large, and although it was clean, it wasn't very neatly organized, mainly because all the calligraphy and art originally hung in the shop were now hung in the central hall. Behind the chairs, there were five large pieces hung. Although the calligraphy was good, being squeezed together like that made it quite incongruous.

Mr. Fan sat among his pile of calligraphy and art, looked at Nezha, and listened as he recounted the events. His aged yet calm eyes gradually brightened, as if regaining some of the vitality from his days in Zhaoge as a spirited official.

He said, "For a small folk matter, a fishing village child, you are to challenge the Dragon Palace of the East Sea, the tradition of Chentang Pass for thousands of years. Is it worth it or not?"

"Did the teacher ever consider questions of worth when directly advising the King in Zhaoge?"

Mr. Fan laughed, "At that time I was nearly seventy, you were but seven years old. Circumstances differ, identities differ, how can they be discussed in the same breath?"

Nezha said, "Since the teacher insists on my answer, I can only say, there is no worthy or unworthy, only wanting or not wanting."

"Wanting or not wanting?"

Wanting or not wanting.

Mr. Fan tasted these four words, simple and yet the more he thought about them, the more interesting they seemed. He said, "Is this what you mean by becoming a demon to fulfill one's desires? Well then, only things have come to this point, I'm curious, how do you plan to conclude this in three days?"

"In any case, such heinous deeds harming the world cannot continue."

Upon hearing this, Mr. Fan raised an eyebrow and said, "So you have no plan? Stretch out your hand."

Nezha extended his right hand.

"The right hand needs to study and write, use the left hand."

Reluctantly, Nezha stretched out his left hand, and to his surprise, Mr. Fan brought out a ruler he carried with him, hitting it three times. Nezha's fair palm quickly turned red, and he inhaled sharply at the pain.

Seeing Nezha admit defeat, three parts of Mr. Fan's anger dissipated, and he continued, "Earlier, I saw you were concerned for your mother, knowing to send someone home to report your safety, I thought you had made some progress. Don't you know if this matter is handled poorly, it will implicate not only your parents but also the people of Chentang Pass? Being timid and hesitating is indeed wrong, but acting reckless and without a plan is even more foolish and rash."

Nezha had prepared himself to be scolded by Mr. Fan, but when the scolding did come, he felt stifled. Yet every word Mr. Fan spoke was right, leaving him unable to argue, so he had to lower his head and agree quietly.

Towards the end, Mr. Fan took a sip of water and shifted the tone, saying, "I know it's not about you and the Dragon Palace being at odds, but rather it was the Dragon Palace that acted unjustly first. Ultimately, I am glad you were able to take action today. I'm proud to have a student like you."

Mr. Fan was indeed gratified; in Zhaoge, he had many students, some of whom held high positions in the court, but after hearing of his direct advice to the King, they all distanced themselves from him.

After such a lecture to Nezha, wouldn't it be necessary to give him advice afterward? He originally intended to wait for Nezha to respond, but unexpectedly, Nezha had already been scolded into confusion, skipping past any chance to respond, just waiting for the teacher to give him some guidance.

Seeing this, Mr. Fan was so angry his teeth itched, giving Nezha a slap on the forehead, making him cry out in pain and finally regain his senses.

Mr. Fan asked, "Have you thought about how to solve this matter?"

Nezha replied, "Mr. Fan, Nezha is not a worldly strategist skilled in intrigue, nor does he have any brilliant solutions within him. I just thought that throughout thousands of years, there must have been wise people with a sense of justice. If there is a solution to this matter, how could such an affront to people's hearts continue? If there is a solution, it is only one: to have martial prowess stronger than the Dragon Palace, so that the Dragon Palace dares not act rashly."

"I see." Mr. Fan chuckled bitterly, "You came today not for lodging, but to seek from me the method of cultivation. However, isn't this too conceited? There's only three days left, how can last-minute efforts be sufficient?"