Chapter 221: Good Brother

Chapter 221: Good Brother

Zhao Changhe’s so-called “finding a place to buy masks” made Vermillion realize he bypassed every city he encountered, stopping only at roadside villages to rest and eat before setting off again, as if heading toward a very specific destination.

And he was highly experienced, deliberately choosing remote paths, cutting through forests and over mountains for no reason, and sometimes intentionally taking a straight road only to loop back in a wide circle, darting off in some unknown direction.

All this was born from his past experiences of being chased and ambushed. Pinpointing his movements was no easy task, and setting up an ambush in advance was out of the question.

Vermillion understood his reasoning but found it deeply irritating.

Because on these mountain trails, her steady posture meant nothing—the horse was unsteady, Zhao Changhe was unsteady, and everything jolted and swayed. Every so often, his back would bump into her chest. What infuriated her was that she could tell he wasn’t doing it on purpose; it was just the jostling. Blaming him was useless.

“Are you done?” Vermillion pressed a hand against his back, fuming. “Just take the main road. Why must you insist on these mountain paths? With me here, what are you afraid of?”

“You’re at the Ninth Layer of the Mystic Gate, not the top of the Heavenly Ranking.”

“No one knows you’re helping me. What formidable figure would come after us?”

“That’s true… but will you always follow me?”

Vermillion: “…”

Helplessly, she kept both hands pressed against his back to protect her chest and changed the subject: “We agreed to buy masks. Earlier, I saw a town where we could get masks, rest, eat, or tend to the horse. Why did you just pass it by without a glance? Where are you planning to go?”

“Over the past couple of days at the inn, I asked the innkeeper about the local geography. Oh, by the way, that room fee was prepaid for three days by your esteemed Vermillion—how thoughtful. When you get back, thank your mistress for me. The room she booked made for a very enjoyable night.”

Vermillion: “?”

Feeling a surge of true qi about to erupt from the hand pressed against his back, Zhao Changhe quickly steered back to the point: “I asked the innkeeper and found out that Sword Lake City is actually just a few hundred li to the northwest. I happen to have business there, so I have a clear destination.”

Vermillion was taken aback: “The Holy Maiden mentioned there’s a dimensional space beneath Sword Lake City, where she got the Ice Soul. But there’s nothing else of value there—just some decent swords. What’s the point of going?”

“This place is supposedly connected to the Night Emperor. Haven’t I told you that yet?”

“You have. But we know it’s not the Night Emperor’s domain—it belonged to a woman who had ties with him. We don’t know how close those ties were, but she certainly wasn’t his consort. Her lover was the one who found the Azure Dragon Seal.”

“Right.”

“The Holy Maiden also said she couldn’t sense any attributes related to the Night Emperor, only the woman’s own sword intent, which doesn’t align with our system. Han Wubing might like it, but it’s irrelevant to us. So we didn’t bother exploring further.”

“…” Zhao Changhe thought to himself that when Han Wubing said they weren’t swordsmen and couldn’t sense the sword intent, he had underestimated Chi Chi. Chi Chi knew it all along; she just thought it had nothing to do with the Four Symbols Sect. The sect, after all, wasn’t as keen on collecting unrelated martial arts or weapons as others might be.

This meant Chi Chi might have harbored some suspicion about his gold foil, but she hadn’t shown it at the time. Instead, she played along, saying “it’s useless,” deliberately guarding against Han Wubing.

Good thing Chi Chi was his girlfriend. If she were a real femme fatale, the gold foil would probably have been snatched away…

Vermillion continued: “Based on our sect’s records and the residual sword intent the Holy Maiden saw in the sword chamber, we speculate that the master of the Azure Dragon Seal—the emperor of Beimang—was the Azure Dragon incarnate from the previous era, likely sent to the mortal world by the Night Emperor. But something probably went wrong with the Night Emperor later, and this Azure Dragon might have developed his own will, wanting to fight or strive for something. These ancient, murky backgrounds can’t be fully understood from a mere sword chamber.”

Zhao Changhe said, “True, but I still want to take another look. Now that I know more than when I was clueless before, I might find something new. It’s not entirely irrelevant to you either—you might be interested?”

Vermillion had some interest, but not much. A single sword chamber couldn’t hold many secrets of antiquity, especially since its master was neither the Night Emperor nor the Azure Dragon. The connection wasn’t direct, and Xia Chichi had already explored it and found nothing related to the Four Symbols, so it was likely barren.

Still, she was in a good mood.

From Zhao Changhe’s perspective, this was a private matter. If it were Situ Xiao beside him, he might not even let him in. Yet he showed no hesitation with her, “Yi Huo She.” This wasn’t kindness to Yi Huo She, but sincerity toward Chi Chi. In Zhao Changhe’s eyes, the Four Symbols Sect was always part of his wife’s family. Exploring matters related to the Night Emperor was helping his wife uncover secrets—why would there be any wariness or conflict?

As for the Heavenly Book, it probably wouldn’t yield answers there. But having it might help decipher the residual sword intent in the chamber, perhaps revealing more about the Night Emperor’s secrets.

In any case, Vermillion had no more objections. The two of them, on one horse, gradually disappeared into the forest as the sun set in the west.

“I must be insane. Instead of staying in an inn and eating well, I’m camping in the wilderness with you.” Outside a cave, Vermillion sat by a campfire, hugging her knees. She pulled out a coarse flatbread bought from a roadside tavern earlier, lifted the bottom of her mask slightly, and nibbled at it.

The mask was such a nuisance—eating was inconvenient…

Zhao Changhe handed her a gourd of wine: “Want some?”

“Disgusting.”

“This is your Holy Maiden’s wine gourd. Consider it a blessing of sacred aura. Be grateful I’m not asking you to kneel and worship.”

Vermillion gave a faint, ambiguous smile: “So that’s how it is… I see.”

She thought to herself, when I get back, let’s see how this little vixen kneels.

Zhao Changhe remarked, “Your tone sounds rather disrespectful toward the Holy Maiden, doesn’t it?”

“I serve under the Vermillion Lord, not the Azure Dragon or White Tiger branches. She outranks me in title, but she can’t order me around.”

“So you have great respect for the Vermillion Lord?”

“Of course.”

“Hey.” Zhao Changhe scooted closer to her, adopting a buddy-buddy tone. “Tell me about the Vermillion Lord. What kind of person is she in your eyes?”

Vermillion paused, warily shifting half a foot away: “What are you doing?”

Zhao Changhe said helplessly, “What am I doing? Doesn’t your sect ever gather like this to gossip about the leadership?”

Vermillion: “…”

I wouldn’t know. When I first joined the sect, I was the Vermillion Holy Maiden. No one dared gossip about the leadership in front of me… If anything, I did once gather with the White Tiger Holy Maiden to whisper about the previous generation…

But that sister is gone.

Actually, what puzzled Vermillion most was the identities of Xia Chichi and Zhao Changhe. Xia Chichi knew the White Tiger Divine Art; Zhao Changhe didn’t. Zhao Changhe knew the Six Harmonies Divine Art; Xia Chichi didn’t.

That didn’t seem right. It felt as if the two traits a prince should have were split between Xia Chichi and Zhao Changhe. If Zhao Changhe’s “twenty years old” was a lie and he was actually just over seventeen, could it be that Zhao Changhe and Xia Chichi were twins? Then wouldn’t you two be…

But they looked nothing alike—not like siblings at all…

Vermillion sank into deep confusion.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Zhao Changhe had no idea her thoughts had wandered so far. He asked curiously, “Don’t tell me you’ve never gossiped about the leadership. Are you that devout and loyal?”

Vermillion snapped back to reality and said flatly, “Even if we did gossip, we wouldn’t tell you. Who are you? Have you joined the sect?”

“Boring.” Zhao Changhe grumpily pulled out a piece of flatbread and wolfed it down with wine.

But Vermillion spoke up then: “The Lord is, of course, the embodiment of wisdom and beauty, with unparalleled talent, carrying forward the sacred teachings, with illustrious achievements and majestic divine might. We can only look up to her in awe and admiration—how could we gossip about her?”

“No need to flatter her like that. She can’t hear you, and I won’t tell her.”

“It’s the truth!”

“Oh, how old is the Lord?”

“Same age as Tang Wanzhuang.”

“Then Tang Wanzhuang is third on the Earthly Ranking, and the Lord is fourth. And you still have the nerve to talk about unparalleled talent? Wake up.”

Vermillion gritted her teeth, a dangerous glint flashing in her eyes.

Just as she was about to explode, Zhao Changhe continued: “Judging from the Transport Guild, the Four Symbols Sect has a lot of hidden power. I suspect that when it truly erupts, it will be even more earth-shattering than the Maitreya Sect. But who knows when that will be? For instance, Wan Dongliu is just the young master—he’s already one of the Twenty-Eight Mansions. If his father were in the sect, he’d be at the Four Symbols level. But clearly, he’s not, which means his father hasn’t joined, and Wan Dongliu hasn’t taken power yet. This probably isn’t an isolated case—many of the Twenty-Eight Mansions are in similar situations.”

Vermillion was startled, lost in thought, and fell silent.

Zhao Changhe said, “Your hidden power can’t be realized in the short term, so you have to keep wearing masks and lying low… If Xia Longyuan dies a bit later, that’s fine, but if he dies too early, you won’t be ready. If this is the Vermillion Lord’s doing, I’d say her skill is decent, but calling it illustrious and majestic is a stretch…”

Vermillion remained silent, expressionless.

Zhao Changhe stole a glance at her: “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“As the Lord’s most loyal subordinate, you have angered me.” Vermillion said solemnly, “Draw your blade. I must defend the Lord’s dignity.”

“Come on…”

“I, Yi Huo She, am the most loyal.” Vermillion grabbed Zhao Changhe by the collar and threw him over her shoulder with a thud. “Die!”

“Damn…” Zhao Changhe landed face-first in the dirt. “Can’t a man speak the truth?”

Zhuque folded her arms and said coldly, "Anyone can talk. Do you actually have a solution?"

"I do."

Zhuque was taken aback and said urgently, "Then why don't you say it quickly!"

Zhao Changhe turned over, pillowed his head on his hands, and lay back lazily: "Why should I tell you? You were just hitting me."

Zhuque gritted her teeth: "You!"

"I'm soft-hearted but not hard-headed. Pressuring me won't work. You might as well smile at me, call me 'good brother,' and maybe I'll reluctantly tell you."

Zhuque's slender hands clenched and unclenched, barely restraining the urge to slap his head off. Finally, she took a deep breath and said in a coquettish voice, "Good brother, it's my fault. Don't quibble with a little snake..."

Anyway, it's Winged Fire Snake who loses face, not me, Zhuque!