Chapter 118: Twenty-Eight Mansions

Chapter 118: The Twenty-Eight Mansions

Only a very few people present understood that Zhao Changhe’s blade speed had, through some unknown technique, slightly deceived the visual senses.

When two combatants’ weapons clash, there is always a predicted point of intersection, where force peaks at its zenith. Just as a normal person walking anticipates where their foot will land—if they commit their strength too early, they’ll likely twist an ankle.

Zhao Changhe’s blade, with uncanny precision, met Batu’s weapon just a hair earlier than the normal prediction. At that moment, Batu’s strength had not yet reached its peak, while Zhao Changhe had long been lying in wait.

Simultaneously, though this strike appeared to be a violent collision, Zhao Changhe secretly incorporated a measure of force-dissipation.

His Six Harmonies Divine Art had always been used to amplify the power of his Blood Fiend Art, enabling him to challenge opponents above his level. But today, for the first time, he channeled that power into deflecting force, embedding a thread of softness within the hardest of blows.

It was like a blade cleaving into water—the water still flowed, yet the submerged reef within rebounded, battering Batu’s strength until it could no longer hold.

And then… Zhao Changhe’s blade seemed to possess some hidden quality, not the crude, rusted appearance it showed; at the very least, it was superior to Batu’s weapon. The fierce, sharp blade aura erupted with such force that Batu’s power instinctively recoiled.

A miscalculation of the point of intersection, a miscalculation of strength, a miscalculation of the weapon itself—three errors in a single strike. How could Batu, goaded into a contest of pure power, possibly avoid defeat?

He had fought this battle with immense frustration. His strength was absolutely greater than Zhao Changhe’s, yet he had never managed to use it properly. Inexplicably, he was swept aside like a stripped maiden, and even as his clansmen helped him away, he remained dazed, unable to comprehend what had happened.

Even Yue Hongling did not understand how Zhao Changhe had achieved that early intersection, nor how he had simultaneously wielded the two extremes of hardness and softness. It was deeply strange.

Among the crowd, Tang Buqi muttered to himself: “Could it be the Spring Water Sword Art? How is that possible…”

Those nearby who heard him cast sidelong glances. Who could wield such a broad blade and execute the Spring Water Sword Art? It didn’t resemble it at all.

Yet Tang Buqi couldn’t shake the feeling that it did, especially the sensation of the early intersection—as if the blade’s trajectory deceived the eye, appearing slightly slower but actually a fraction faster.

It was a hint of that technique, without the effect of their own cultivation method, so it was only a trace. The blade’s path was entirely different from their sword path; others would surely not notice. But Tang Buqi, a hidden dragon of the Tang family and a core disciple, how could he have no inkling at all?

Damn it! You keep calling me “big nephew,” and I thought it was just malicious verbal posturing. Don’t tell me there’s some truth to it! If there is, how dare you pursue Yue Hongling right in front of me? I’m Tang Buqi, not Tang Buqi the Unbothered!

Over there, Zhao Changhe scanned the hall and noticed Wan Dongliu whispering to his subordinates. Soon, a large portion of the Canal Alliance members in the hall had silently slipped away. Zhao Changhe understood: Wan Dongliu had made a ruthless decision—to take advantage of Chi Li’s injury and slaughter all these foreign hidden dragons here.

If that were the case, this man seemed… harmless? Had he been too suspicious before?

Just then, Prefect Qian suddenly spoke: “This is exactly as it should be, to display the majesty of our Great Xia! Dongliu, take some men to guard the foreign market quarter. Don’t let anyone disturb the guests, lest they say Great Xia lacks magnanimity.”

Zhao Changhe clearly saw a flash of fury in Wan Dongliu’s eyes, but he bowed his head and suppressed it, speaking in a low voice: “Understood.”

Prefect Qian rose with a chuckle: “I’m old, not like you young warriors who can endure. I’ll retire for now. Everyone performed well today, very well.”

He left without even eating, which almost confirmed that he had come solely to support the foreigners. He had no interest in socializing or feasting with these young warriors.

Even Yue Hongling’s gaze turned cold. She silently added another name to her list of corrupt officials to kill.

Zhao Changhe shook his head slightly at her, signaling her not to act rashly. Yue Hongling tilted her head but said nothing.

Zhao Changhe walked over and lowered his voice: “I know your intent to die together. People like Chi Li have boundless potential; they cannot be left unchecked, or they will become a great scourge to the Central Plains in the future, no less than the current Golden Tent Khan or the Great Shaman. But I don’t want to think that far ahead. I only know you can’t die. Don’t blame me for meddling.”

Yue Hongling stared at him for a long moment, then said softly: “You did it for my life. How could I be ungrateful?”

“You’re two years younger than him. You have plenty of chances.” Zhao Changhe silently handed over a bottle of medicine. “Every time I see you… you’re always hurt…”

Hearing the concern in his voice, Yue Hongling found it somewhat amusing.

Though she had suffered injuries while wandering the martial world, they weren’t exactly frequent. In the past six months, she had been wounded twice—once against the third-ranked hidden dragon, Cui Yuanyong, and now against the first-ranked, Chi Li. These were true battles between equals, and avoiding injury was difficult. Yet both times, he had been by her side, witnessing her at her weakest, as if by fate.

The medicine Zhao Changhe now offered was from the Cui family, better than her own. She accepted it without ceremony and joked: “Using Cui Yuanyang’s medicine to court Yue Hongling?”

“Huh?” Zhao Changhe was dumbfounded. “No, that’s not… wait, I haven’t even asked you—what exactly did you mean by that little act earlier?”

“Nothing in particular.” Yue Hongling’s face flushed slightly. She turned her head and said, “I couldn’t bear to make you lose face in public… Besides, I only stated my criteria for a partner. I didn’t say you’d met them just because… Plenty of people meet those standards.”

Zhao Changhe was speechless. “That’s how you see it, but others might not. At the very least, they’ll think you have no objection to me pursuing you…”

Yue Hongling thought for a moment, then suddenly laughed. “I never had any objection to begin with.”

Zhao Changhe’s jaw dropped.

Yue Hongling, with a hint of playfulness, clasped her hands behind her back and swayed as she walked upstairs. “There are plenty of people who want to pursue me. That’s their freedom. Who can stop someone from wanting to chase you? Let’s go upstairs and eat. We came for the banquet.”

Zhao Changhe scratched his head. What did she mean?

If you have no objection, then I’ll really pursue you!

Just as he was about to follow her upstairs, Tang Buqi’s deadpan face appeared before him. “That blade of yours—was it the Spring Water Sword Intent? I had a feeling when you blocked my sword that day…”

Zhao Changhe patted his shoulder. “A gentleman is not a vessel—it means don’t be fooled by appearances; look at the essence. Many things resemble Spring Water Sword Intent. How could it be unique to your family?”

Tang Buqi replied flatly: “The appearance is your blade; the essence is the Spring Water Sword Intent.”

Zhao Changhe blinked. This nephew wasn’t stupid after all…

Of course, stealing another’s sword intent was a grave taboo in the martial world. If he were to admit it, it would have to be to Tang Wanzhuang later, not to this big nephew. Zhao Changhe rolled his eyes. “If you don’t believe me, ask your aunt. What’s with all this guessing? I just saved your life, and this is how you block my way?”

Tang Buqi hesitated, then lowered his voice: “I wanted to invite you to kill Chi Li and Batu together. They should be staying in the foreign market quarter.”

Zhao Changhe paused, then looked around for Wan Dongliu but couldn’t find him—he might have already gone upstairs. After a moment’s thought, he shook his head. “They’re not stupid. By now, they’ve likely gone into hiding. With the prefect covering for them, even Brother Wan will have trouble finding them. By the way, let me ask you something. Have you heard anything in Jiangnan about this?”

“What?”

“Is there anyone in the grasslands or Jiangnan who wears a mask?”

“…That’s usually only the Four Symbols Sect, and at a fairly high level. Have you encountered them? Oh, right, it wouldn’t be strange for the Four Symbols Sect to cause you trouble.”

Zhao Changhe recalled the Vermilion Bird’s mask and nodded. “If it’s the Four Symbols Sect, whose mask is blue?”

Tang Buqi thought for a moment. “Probably related to water—like the Water Leopard or the Water Serpent. Those should be blue.”

“The Twenty-Eight Mansions?”

“Yes. You didn’t think the Four Symbols Sect only had the Four Symbols Saintesses, did you? Of course, they have the Twenty-Eight Mansions spread across the land. Unfortunately, their identities are all very secret. No one knows who they are.”

Zhao Changhe pondered for a long while, then suddenly asked: “Earlier, before I arrived, did Brother Wan or Xuan Chong leave at any point?”

“Who pays attention to that? They might have gone to relieve themselves. Why ask? It wouldn’t have taken even a quarter of an hour. What could they do?”

Zhao Changhe gave a bright smile. “Never mind, big nephew. I’ve found that aside from being a bit dense, you’re not so bad…”