Chapter 105: Yangzhou Slow

Chapter 105: Slow Yangzhou

“So you’re Brother Zhao of the Hidden Dragon Eighty-Eight—your name thunders in my ears.” The burly man, Wan Dongliu, laughed. “Where might Brother Zhao be headed? A chance meeting is better than an invitation; our headquarters lie ahead in Yangzhou. Why not enter the city for a cup of watery wine?”

“Hold on—Brother Wan, is it? Wait a moment, I’ve a question or two.” Zhao Changhe dismounted and grabbed the thin man. “What the hell is this Bloodthirsty Rakshasa?”

Wan Dongliu: “…”

The thin man, his leg broken and writhing in pain, never expected Zhao Changhe to fixate on this. Through gritted teeth, he said, “You—aren’t you the Blood Fiend Skill, the Blood Fiend Blade? They say when you fight, your eyes go red, and you’ve a move that looks like you’re devouring people. With that broadsword, anyone who crosses you ends up without a whole corpse… If you’re not bloodthirsty, who is?”

“…Bloodthirsty, fine. But why Rakshasa? A bit tacky.”

Wan Dongliu: “…”

What exactly are you hung up on? Whether the nickname sounds good?

The thin man, drenched in cold sweat from pain, went on: “That’s what the Maitreya Sect’s Buddhas say—Rakshasas are ancient savage gods, immensely strong, quick to anger and fond of battle…”

Zhao Changhe opened his mouth, then closed it.

How come that sounds so fitting?

The thin man continued: “…Rakshasas have male and female; the males are hideous.”

Zhao Changhe erupted: “I’ll be at odds with the Maitreya Sect to the bitter end!”

The thin man and Wan Dongliu, though enemies, were in perfect agreement on this: it suited him all too well.

There are only mistaken names, never mistaken nicknames…

Neither took his vow of eternal enmity seriously. Wan Dongliu chuckled: “Brother Zhao, it’s just a nickname. If you’re not satisfied, why not think of one yourself? Honestly, spreading nicknames is something our Canal Guild excels at. Many a Jade-Faced Divine Sword or Little White Dragon started with us—there are already a hundred Little White Dragons out there.”

Zhao Changhe’s eyes lit up: “There’s a trick to this?”

“Indeed.” Wan Dongliu smiled. “So, Brother Zhao, what would you like to be called?”

Zhao Changhe was stumped. He’d never thought about it. Should’ve asked Tang Wanzhuang to come up with one—she had culture.

“Forget it. Since Brother Wan has the connections, I’ll think it over slowly.” Zhao Changhe remounted. “Yangzhou lies ahead?”

“Exactly.” Wan Dongliu hoisted the thin man and laughed. “This fellow stole something important from our guild. Thanks to Brother Zhao for catching him. I need to take him back to report. When you enter the city, just mention my name, Wan Dongliu, and you’ll be treated as an honored guest anywhere!”

With a cupped-fist salute, he stepped across the water and vanished.

Damn, everyone can walk on water. Zhao Changhe felt his own Blood-Treading Without Trace growing more pathetic by the day. Blood-Treading Without Trace, my ass—even treading on water makes him sink.

But it wasn’t the technique’s fault; Blood-Treading Without Trace was decent enough. It was his internal energy that lagged—his inner strength wasn’t up to par, so naturally, he sank on anything.

And these two, who seemed like random passersby, had better internal energy than him. At least Zhao Changhe knew who Wan Dongliu was: the young master of the Canal Guild, at the fifth level of the Mysterious Barrier, ranked seventieth on the Hidden Dragon list—just below Han Wubing, just above Zhao Changhe. Judging by his lightness skill, his inner energy was already quite refined, not just some rough external martial artist.

The jianghu was full of rising talents. Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted to see? Since fate had brought him here, why not take a look at the Canal Guild, which he hadn’t planned to visit?

The melancholy from the past few days’ travels was tucked away for now. There was nothing he could do about those matters yet. Even if he planned to act later, he’d need to understand this world’s jianghu first.

This river wasn’t the main canal—just a small tributary, not wide. Otherwise, those two couldn’t have crossed it. A narrow river usually meant there should be a bridge… Zhao Changhe reined his horse and circled around. Sure enough, he soon found a stone arch bridge and leisurely rode across.

So why did you two have to walk on water? Damn it, once my skills are up, I’ll tread water too!

Not far ahead lay Yangzhou, one of the most important cities north of the river. Like Qinghe, it shared its name and culture with the real world… in terms of culture, you could even call it Jiangnan.

As Zhao Changhe entered the city gate, he felt a sense of fate. Not long ago, he’d talked with Han Wubing about carrying a sword and wine, a slender waist in hand. Now, in the blink of an eye, the Yangzhou dream was near—who would be the fickle one?

Strangely, the land outside was barren for a thousand li, but inside the city, there was the flavor he’d imagined. It was as if the city had drained the blood from outside to nourish itself. This prosperity carried a hint of irony.

It was as bustling as Qinghe Commandery, but the culture was different. In Qinghe, perhaps because the Cui family valued moral heritage, the atmosphere was steady and solemn, the architecture grand and restrained. Here, all he felt was willows filling the city, romance everywhere.

He rode across a bridge within the city and reined in to look. On both sides of the inner river, in many buildings, girls craned their necks. When his gaze swept over, they waved their sleeves in invitation, then covered their mouths and giggled.

*In those days, young and lightly clad in spring silk, I rode my horse leaning against the sloping bridge, red sleeves beckoning from every tower.*

The quality was far better than in Sword Lake City. The whole atmosphere and style were superior. Even Zhao Changhe, who had long returned his poetry to his teacher, couldn’t help a bellyful of poetic imagery bubbling up. No wonder they said, *With a hundred thousand strings of cash tied around the waist, ride a crane down to Yangzhou*—this was truly a man’s paradise.

He wondered where the Twenty-Four Bridges were. Oh, maybe they didn’t exist in this world—but they absolutely had to…

“Young master, stay at our Xiaoxiang Pavilion. Our girls are the most famous in the city. And your fine horse will be well cared for—we have the best fodder and the most meticulous attention…”

Zhao Changhe pulled his mind back and laughed. “In Jiangnan, why call it Xiaoxiang?”

“Eh? Young master is a refined man! We cater to out-of-town tastes… uh…” As Zhao Changhe turned his head, the madam’s face changed, her voice stammering: “That scar… Bloodthirsty Rakshasa Zhao Changhe…”

Zhao Changhe’s smile vanished instantly.

“What, does my fearsome reputation ruin your establishment’s style and safety?”

“No, no such thing…” The madam forced a smile. “A famous man like you—we’d be more than happy to welcome you.”

“Is that so?” Zhao Changhe dismounted. “Then I’ll stay right here.”

The madam cursed inwardly. It wasn’t about style—it was about safety. If this brute started a fight inside, the building might be torn down. Steeling herself, she smiled obsequiously: “Young master, please come in. Our Xiaoxiang Pavilion pays tribute to the Canal Guild. Perhaps you have connections with them.”

She was hinting at their backing. Zhao Changhe chuckled and was about to reply when laughter rang out from the street corner: “Haha, Brother Zhao has a taste for Hunan flavors? Excellent! This Xiaoxiang Pavilion is run by our Canal Guild. Enjoy yourself—all expenses are on me, Wan!”

So you really do have ties with the Canal Guild… The madam’s expression turned awed. She smiled nervously: “Young master.”

Wan Dongliu strode over and warmly clapped Zhao Changhe on the shoulder. “Come, come—my treat. Let me first show Brother Zhao the warmth of Yangzhou!”

How are you everywhere? Did you have someone report the moment I entered the city and chose a place? This enthusiasm is a bit excessive.

Zhao Changhe’s mind raced. He decided to see what this guy was really about and didn’t refuse. Smiling, he said, “Then I’ll gratefully accept. Brother Wan, lead the way.”