The convoy traveled for three more days along the official road of Mount Danyue.
After passing Mount Danyue, the terrain gradually opened up, though dangerous stretches still appeared frequently along the road.
On the evening of the third day, the convoy reached a place called Tiger Leap Ravine.
A swift mountain stream had carved a deep ravine between two peaks, with the official road winding precariously along the cliffside at the edge of the chasm, its narrowest point allowing only a single carriage to pass at a time.
The cliff face was covered in slick green moss. The water below roared as white-capped surges churned, throwing up mist that left the entire road surface exceedingly damp and slick.
The Staff Grandmaster walked over to the old man surnamed Qi.
“Elder Qi, this terrain is far too treacherous. If someone sets an ambush in the woods, we won’t be able to deploy our formation.
It would be better to double back and take the abandoned old official road. It adds ten li to our journey, but at least it’s safe.”
The other martial artists in martial attire nodded one after another.
A-Tong also poked his head out from the carriage cabin, whispering softly,
“Brother Chen, this place does look rather terrifying...”
Chen Zui, however, had already picked up his spear from the floorboard.
“A detour? A detour wastes far too much time.”
Before his voice had even faded, he had already leapt down from the transport wagon, the soles of his boots landing firmly on the slick bluestone.
Gripping the spear in one hand, black qi churning along its shaft, he walked straight toward the depths of Tiger Leap Ravine without looking back.
“Chen Zui!” the Staff Grandmaster shouted sharply.
“What are you doing? This is no time to show off!”
Chen Zui paid him no heed.
His pace was neither fast nor slow, splashing tiny sprays of water as he stepped upon the puddle-strewn bluestone, his retreating figure fading into the dusk and mist.
Qi Tianchen did not call him back.
He merely drew the long saber on his lap a little closer to his chest, his withered fingers lightly stroking the gold rings on the scabbard.
A faint curve appeared at the corner of his lips.
In the depths of Tiger Leap Ravine, people were indeed hiding within the dense woods.
And not just one group, but two.
The two factions originally harbored their own schemes, each assuming whoever seized the sword Sheiru first would claim ownership, even harboring unspoken rivalries with one another.
Yet, when Chen Zui strode brazenly into the space between the two groups with his spear resting across his shoulder, both sides froze simultaneously.
“Who is this kid?”
“I’ve never seen such a figure in Furnace-Listening Pavilion’s convoy.”
“Alone? Is he seeking death?”
Chen Zui planted his spear firmly against the ground, the staff’s butt vibrating against the bluestone hard enough to send standing water flying in all directions.
He looked up at the dense woods on the southern slope, then turned his head toward the heap of jagged rocks on the northern slope, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Two groups gathered together. Just right to save me from making two trips. Come at me together.”
As soon as these words were spoken, a sect elder hiding in the dense forest of the southern slope flew into a rage, drawing his sword to leap down.
A chieftain on the northern slope refused to be outdone, leading his subordinates as they charged out from behind the jumble of rocks.
Chen Zui had been waiting for this exact moment.
Rather than retreating, he advanced. He unfurled his Dragon Roam footwork across the slick bluestone, his figure moving through the dusk as swift and elusive as a wisp of smoke.
Spear in hand, the churning black qi condensed into a deep, chilling glint at the spearhead.
The entangling nature of the Coiling Serpent Willow Spear, the deceit of the Thirteen Ghost Shadow Spears, the biting chill of the Wind and Snow Night Return Spear.
He seamlessly switched between the three spear techniques at will, his spear momentum pouring in everywhere like mercury spilling across the ground.
The first wave of seven or eight martial arts experts had not even clearly seen where the spearhead was aimed before feeling a bone-chilling cold strike their wrists or shoulders simultaneously.
Weapons dropped from their hands one after another.
Before the second wave of swordsmen could even deploy their sword formation, Chen Zui used his Dragon Roam footwork to slice directly into the formation’s core, sweeping his spear across to force back both primary and secondary pivot points.
He maintained precise restraint with every thrust.
He took no lives, only shattering joints, jarring wrists, and crippling meridians. The moment his opponents lost their ability to fight, he would immediately withdraw his spear and change stances.
It was not out of soft-hearted mercy, but rather because in his eyes, these people’s lives held nothing worth wasting effort on aside from experience points.
In less time than it took for two sticks of incense to burn, all fifty-three ambushers were sprawled across the ground.
Groans and the clattering of dropped weapons intertwined, sounding exceptionally pitiful in the twilight.
Chen Zui retrieved his spear, casually wiping the blood from the spearhead against the roadside moss, before turning back toward the convoy.
Sitting upon the transport wagon, Qi Tianchen had not intervened from beginning to end, nor had his hand on the saber moved an inch.
He had merely watched the entire battle with narrowed eyes, his gaze following the tip of Chen Zui’s spear as the look of appreciation in the depths of his eyes grew thicker and thicker.
In his view, the martial world of today was completely different from what it had been forty years ago.
Forty years ago, heroes roved everywhere across the martial world.
There were those who would venture alone into a dragon’s den for the sake of a single promise, those who would challenge an entire sect single-handedly just over a point of pride, and those who would draw their blades to strike down injustice whenever they encountered it on the road...
Back then, martial artists had a wild nature in their very bones.
They acted without restraint, living out their gratitude and vengeance to the fullest.
They relied on hot-blooded courage and upheld the righteousness of the martial world.
Yet what about the younger generation of today?
Sect disciples had their hands and feet bound by rules, while the scions of noble families had their sharp edges smoothed away by rigid etiquette.
On the rare occasion that a few standouts emerged, they were either fawning over the powerful or cowering in fear.
He had observed the young disciples within Furnace-Listening Pavilion for decades. It was not that there were none with good aptitude, nor that none worked hard, but none possessed that certain drive seen in the young man before him.
That fearless drive that dared to thrust a spear even if the Lord of Heaven himself descended.
This was the true spirit of a martial artist.
“All of you, learn well from him.”
Qi Tianchen spoke suddenly, causing the others to instinctively straighten up.
“When walking the martial world, one must naturally exercise caution, but if you seek only safety in every single matter, how can you still call it roaming the martial world?
That’s just being a coward hiding in its shell.”
Qi Tianchen’s voice was not loud, yet every word cut like a blade.
“Forty years ago, when this old man was around your age, we ran into a band of mountain bandits attempting to rob our escort on Huaixi Circuit.
Six of us against more than eighty fierce outlaws.
What would you have done in our place?
Would you have turned around and fled to call for reinforcements?”
He paused, answering his own question.
“We didn’t.
Six people, six sabers, hacking from the foot of the mountain to the summit, fighting through the entire night.
Three survived, and the bandits scattered.
The client for that escort was just a poor physician who ran a medicine shop, and the reward was a mere five taels of silver.
Afterward, someone asked this old man: was it worth it?
This old man told him, not everything in life must be weighed by whether it is worth it or not.”
He turned around and pointed toward the transport wagon.
“Along this journey, Young Hero Chen has cleared nine waves of ambushes on our behalf.”
He paused for a beat, his gaze sweeping coldly over the crowd.
“Let this old man ask you.
What friendship does Young Hero Chen share with our Furnace-Listening Pavilion?”
No one answered.
“None,”
Qi Tianchen answered himself.
“Is he a disciple of your Furnace-Listening Pavilion?
No.
Has he ever used a single spear forged by our Furnace-Listening Pavilion?
Not that either.
Yet he still helped us, helping us all along the way, without even asking you for a single word of thanks.
If it were you, would you challenge nine sects single-handedly for the sake of a stranger?”
The air beside the stream seemed to freeze.
Including the Staff Grandmaster, everyone turned beet red with shame, their eyes darting away, not daring to meet Qi Tianchen’s gaze.
They knew in their hearts that every word of Qi Tianchen’s rebuke was entirely justified.
Yet what made them uncomfortable was that every single phrase used to scold them was lavishing praise upon that young spearman surnamed Chen.
This was truly a case of comparisons being odious.
Were they jealous of Chen Zui?
Of course they were.
Why should a greenhorn who barged in out of nowhere, barely in his twenties and possessing only Mountain-Viewing Realm cultivation, be regarded with such special favor by Elder Qi Tianchen?
They had stayed in Furnace-Listening Pavilion for half their lives, behaving with utmost deference and diligence before Qi Tianchen, yet had never earned even a single word of praise.
Yet what about this kid?
He sat right on the wagon board, dropping Gu Yiyou’s name one moment and Liu Yinsheng’s the next, effortlessly wrapping both the old senior and A-Tong around his finger with a few casual stories.
Yet jealousy aside, they could not refute it.
His battle record was carved out with real blades and real spears; every feat was laid bare right before them, leaving them no choice but to be convinced.
Sitting on the transport wagon, Chen Zui heard every single word of Qi Tianchen’s speech without missing a syllable.
He kept an impassive face, but inwardly, he struggled to keep his composure.
Old Man Qi was praising him to the high heavens.
Talking about seeking no reward, acting out of righteous goodwill, having a clear conscience...
It wasn’t that he didn’t seek a reward.
He sought a reward far too much.
In his eyes, every single one of those ambushers was a walking sack of experience points...
How could he not strike in time?
Rate on N.U.
