Chapter 107: A Gathering Of Elites

Chapter 107: A Gathering of Heroes

Zhao Changhe had originally set out for Jiangnan with the intention of stirring up trouble even if there was none.

His enemies were nearly gone...

The Blood God Sect’s current stance was unclear; they had gone quiet for now, even letting the bounty cool off. That was a good thing. Deep down, Zhao Changhe didn’t really want to be their enemy—there was no real grudge, Instructor Sun had been a mentor, and Sect Leader Xue... was just too amusing.

With the bounty cooling off, the Listening Snow Pavilion, which had been drawn by the high reward to send assassins and put immense pressure on Zhao Changhe, also ceased its activities. Zhao Changhe didn’t know what these assassin organizations were thinking—whether they’d seek revenge for the deaths of their members from failed missions, perhaps brewing something bigger? For now, they lay low without any reaction.

Because of escorting Yangyang, he had offended some people on the Hebei road. Those were local underworld figures who wouldn’t chase him across a thousand miles, especially since they were likely trembling under Cui Wenjing’s retaliation, barely able to save themselves.

Due to the internal affairs of the Cui family, he had offended Cui Wenjue’s faction, leading to an ambush right after leaving the Cui estate. That matter had also vanished; Cui Wenjing wouldn’t allow it to persist. After so long, the purges would have been completed.

And yes, the imperial warrant was gone, and he had become a spy for the Demon Suppression Bureau.

Looking back, Zhao Changhe was surprised to find that he no longer felt the survival pressure he had when first arriving in this world. In truth, this was only natural—who could constantly be embroiled in vendettas and conflicts day in and day out, unless they had some kind of aggro aura? Yet this left the born outlaw feeling uneasy, as if he would lose the environment needed to advance his martial arts.

Moreover, since neither Cui Wenjing nor Tang Wanzhuang could improve his meridian condition, he had to find a way himself.

So he headed south. The vast martial world always held more wonders, waiting for him to explore.

But this journey was somewhat aimless, lacking a clear goal. He thought about targeting the Maitreya Sect, but didn’t know where to start. So he traveled with a heavy heart, unsure of what to do, almost turning it into a social survey.

Unexpectedly, as soon as he arrived in Yangzhou, he ran into the inexplicably enthusiastic Wan Dongliu, who seemed connected to the Maitreya Sect. And he was the young master of the Canal Transport Guild, a top local power. Zhao Changhe’s heart leaped with joy; the gloom of the journey vanished in an instant, his excitement rekindled, blood surging through his veins once more.

A true born outlaw, Zhao Changhe couldn’t help but think of himself that way.

As expected, Wan Dongliu didn’t stay overnight at the Xiaoxiang Pavilion, nor did he bring the courtesan with him. He went home alone, leisurely.

Before long, a pimp caught up from behind and said in a low voice, “Young Master Wan, Zhao Changhe and Ruyan went into the room and were soon on the bed. Ruyan called him impatient.”

Wan Dongliu laughed. “A mountain bandit—what did you expect? That he’d play the zither and paint with Ruyan? Perfectly normal.”

The pimp also chuckled. “Seems like he’s easy to win over.”

Wan Dongliu shook his head. “They say this man has a rebellious streak. Even if you win him over temporarily, he’ll turn his back on you later. Such a small favor won’t hold him.”

The pimp said, “So the Buddhas think it’s better to control him. He has potential; he should be brought into the sect.”

Wan Dongliu said casually, “I’d suggest letting it be. It’s fine as it is. Ruyan is just an ordinary believer, not trained in secret arts. Whether we win his heart or not, it’s a good deed. Giving him a top courtesan to play with is no loss. If we try to force control, we might stir up that rebellious streak and ruin everything. Remember what happened with the Blood Fiend Art?”

The pimp sneered. “We’re not like those useless Blood God Sect fools.”

Wan Dongliu smiled. “Of course. The Maitreya’s divine powers and boundless dharma are far beyond that mere bloodthirsty evil god. Enough. I’ll leave Zhao Changhe’s matter alone. I only met him by chance; it’s not my duty.”

The pimp lowered his voice. “That matter you’re handling...”

Wan Dongliu shook his head gently. “Not a place to speak.”

The pimp realized they were on the street. Talking about Zhao Changhe was one thing, but the real business couldn’t be discussed even in the dead of night. He said quietly, “Alright. The Buddha awaits Young Master Wan’s feedback.”

The pimp hurried back. Wan Dongliu strolled a few steps, then suddenly let out a soft “heh” and vanished with a burst of light-footed skill.

Zhao Changhe, hiding on a distant rooftop, broke out in a cold sweat and dared not follow further.

He didn’t know if Wan Dongliu’s sneer was aimed at the pimp, the Maitreya Sect, or at him, the stalker.

If it was the latter, Wan Dongliu’s strength was unfathomable. Thanks to his “back eye” cheat, his five senses were far sharper than those of ordinary cultivators at the same or even slightly higher levels—that had been his main advantage in dodging assassinations and seizing the initiative. But if Wan Dongliu’s senses surpassed even this cheat, what level was he really at?

Yet if so, why sneer as a warning? Just the disdain of a strong man?

If it was the former, he was sneering at the Maitreya Sect and the pimp—meaning Wan Dongliu was outwardly a Maitreya follower but had other plans? Then his extra warmth toward Zhao Changhe might have deeper meaning...

From his conversation with the pimp, it seemed he bore Zhao Changhe no real malice, at most some contempt.

As for this Xiaoxiang Pavilion, it was directly under the Maitreya Sect. No wonder the madam had been so eager to pull him in when he rode up—just like the Wanhua Tower in Jianhu City. It wasn’t because he was especially handsome; both madams had their reasons.

Damn, everyone’s an actor.

Zhao Changhe thought for a moment, then quietly slipped back into the brothel and crawled in beside Ruyan.

He had originally knocked her out by pressing her sleep acupoint, planning to leave. But since Ruyan was an ordinary person, it didn’t matter much. How could a commoner understand how they lost consciousness in the face of martial arts?

He lay quietly beside her, cultivating the Six Harmonies Divine Art. After several cycles, he heard a soft moan—Ruyan was waking up.

Zhao Changhe wasn’t in deep meditation, so he opened his eyes and said with a smile, “Beauty, awake?”

Ruyan shrank back into the bed in fright. From an ordinary person’s perspective, this brute had been too rough when he pounced, bumping her somewhere and knocking her out.

How could she serve such a guest? If he really got going, he might kill her.

Sure enough, Zhao Changhe laughed. “You’re too delicate. One touch and you faint. I haven’t had my fill. Want to go again?”

Ruyan was terrified and begged, “Please spare me, sir. I can use my mouth...”

“What good is that?” Zhao Changhe’s eyes widened like an ox’s. “Like scratching an itch through a boot! Better not!”

Ruyan thought to herself that it was actually more pleasurable, but this brute didn’t understand. She didn’t dare argue, trembling slightly.

“Forget it.” Zhao Changhe got off the bed and picked up the wine jug from the table. “Keep me company for a few drinks. If you want to use your mouth, better use it to tell me stories. This is my first time in Jiangnan; I’m quite interested in things around here. Women’s bodies are all the same—boring.”

Ruyan was overjoyed. A crude, uncultured bandit had his uses after all. If he wanted stories, that was easy! She could talk all night if needed.

She quickly poured him a cup of wine, afraid he’d change his mind, and asked hastily, “What stories would you like to hear, young master?”

“Does Yangzhou have the Twenty-Four Bridges?”

Ruyan paused, glancing at him cautiously. So he wasn’t completely ignorant—he knew ancient poetry. Could he really not know what a mouth was for? Oh, right, the original poem didn’t mean that. It was her own mind in this pleasure quarter that had dirtied it. Young Master Zhao surely didn’t mean that.

She steadied herself and said, “There is one, but I don’t know if it’s that bridge. Everyone says it is, so it is.”

Little did she know that Young Master Zhao meant exactly that, and he was especially eager. “Oh, so the Twenty-Four Bridges is one bridge, not twenty-four?”

“There’s also a saying that it refers to all the bridges in the city. But now there are more than thirty or fifty bridges in the city. No one can say which twenty-four they mean.”

“Mm...” Zhao Changhe sipped his wine and nodded. “I’ll have to go see it sometime.”

The conversation opened up, and Ruyan stopped being afraid. She smiled and said, “Do you understand poetry, young master?”

“No. I heard some courtesan sing it in a brothel before.”

“...”

Zhao Changhe asked casually, “Oh, by the way, the Chaos Book hasn’t updated Brother Wan’s news in a while. He was at the fifth level of the Profound Gate, ranked seventieth. Is he still at the fifth level?”

“I wouldn’t know, young master. Young Master Wan rarely fights these days. In Yangzhou, no one dares to provoke the Canal Transport Guild.”

“No outsiders causing trouble? This is a hub for canal transport; there must be many visitors.”

“There are many visitors, but no one’s that reckless. Actually, besides you, young master, there are other famous names from the Hidden Dragon List in Yangzhou recently.”

Zhao Changhe was startled. “Oh? Who? I’d like to meet them if possible.”

Ruyan glanced at him, hesitating.

“What’s with that look? If you know, just say it!”

“There’s Daoist Xuanchong from the Taiyi Sect, and Young Master Tang Buqi from the Tang family in Gusu...”

“Eh?” Zhao Changhe took a sip of wine, looking expectant. “Seems I came at a good time. A gathering of heroes... What’s there to hem and haw about? I have no quarrel with them.”

Ruyan paused, then continued with a strange expression, “And... Yue Hongling of the Sunset Villa.”

“Pfft!” Zhao Changhe spat out his wine.