Chapter 241: Fame Shakes The Capital

Chapter 241: A Name That Shakes the Capital

Huangfu Shaozong coordinated with the Demon Suppression Division to arrange the joint pursuit of He Lei, and noticed that dusk was already falling.

Thinking of his sister’s request for him to get closer to Zhao Changhe, Huangfu Shaozong, though reluctant, decided to follow through since she had asked.

Since he was going to do it, he might as well do it well—not only invite him to stay at home but also snatch him away from Tang Wanzhuang’s side. His sister would surely be delighted to see Tang Wanzhuang thwarted.

These two old women had been at each other’s throats for over a decade; he really didn’t understand what there was to fight about, or when they would ever stop. Though Huangfu Shaozong thought it was foolish for two women of their age and status to keep bickering like little girls, since it was his sister, he had to lend a hand.

So Huangfu Shaozong openly went to the Demon Suppression Division to demand Zhao Changhe’s presence and treat him to a meal.

Unexpectedly, Tang Wanzhuang, who had been trading blows with Huangfu Qing, showed no intention of stopping Zhao Changhe this time. Since he had entered the capital, either he should leave immediately or let the capital see his brilliance.

Tang Wanzhuang was certain that something would happen once Zhao Changhe went to this banquet.

There was no need for the undercurrents stirred by various factions; on the surface alone, countless troublemakers would appear.

In this world, martial arts flourished to an extreme—from the emperor to the heads of noble families, all were top-tier experts, a stark contrast to the ancient times of the present world.

Back when Zhao Changhe was in Beimang and first entered the Hidden Dragon Ranking, he had attracted a swarm of fools challenging him. This was no exception; almost everyone on the ranking faced similar challenges. Only those like Cui Yuanyang or Wan Dongliu, who hid behind their families’ influence, avoided trouble.

Because people refused to accept it. “I’m at the fourth level, you’re at the third—I’m far stronger than you. Why should you be on the ranking, admired by all?” No matter how many times the meaning of “Hidden Dragon” was explained, it couldn’t erase people’s first instinct: resentment.

As cultivation levels rose to the sixth or seventh tier, the swarm of challengers began to thin, but duels among peers increased.

“You’re at the sixth level, and I’m at the sixth or even seventh. You’re a Hidden Dragon? I want to test your mettle.” In low emotional intelligence terms, they asked “why you?”; in high emotional intelligence terms, they sought to learn the gap between themselves and the Hidden Dragon Ranking.

This phenomenon was common throughout the martial world, even frequent at the Human Ranking. The Chaos Chronicle earned its name partly because of this.

Zhao Changhe hadn’t encountered it in a long time, because he either mingled with the Cao Gang, hid in the Tang family, or was at the Langya martial debates. When he traveled, his whereabouts were unpredictable, giving others no chance to cause trouble. But this time, he came to the capital alone, making no effort to conceal his movements—like a blazing candle, dazzling and inviting attack. Wasn’t that like declaring, “Fire at me”?

It could be said that since Young Master Dai shouted Zhao Changhe’s name at the city gate, countless capital youths of comparable cultivation had begun to stir restlessly.

Even Huangfu Shaozong himself wanted to fight Zhao Changhe. He was at the seventh level of the Mystic Gate, Zhao Changhe at the sixth, yet their rankings were only two places apart. He, too, wanted to know why. Of course, it wasn’t appropriate for him to act, so he had his own schemes.

Thus, the venue for the banquet was not the Yihong Tower but the restaurant opposite. They didn’t take a private room; instead, they sat in the classic open-walled pavilion, offering a broad view. It was said to be pleasant for sightseeing, but in truth, anyone could leap up.

Zhao Changhe saw through Huangfu Shaozong’s intent and smiled faintly, unconcerned.

“Brother Zhao, this is the famous Zhang Family Restaurant in the capital. Its most renowned dish is…”

“Zhizhi Snow Jade Cake?”

Huangfu Shaozong was taken aback: “Brother Zhao is even familiar with the pastries of the capital?”

“A little girl likes it.”

“…Cui Yuanyang, right?” Huangfu Shaozong choked for a moment. “Brother Zhao, no one here will pass a message to her for you. You might as well forget about flirting from afar.”

“Oh, you’re quite knowledgeable? That doesn’t match your bearded persona.”

“Likewise, your scarred face doesn’t quite fit this sort of thing either.” Huangfu Shaozong said flatly, “What I’m treating Brother Zhao to is not some woman’s cake, but the Furong wine here. Of course, if Brother Zhao wants cake…”

“No need.” Zhao Changhe directly reached for the wine jug on the table and, taking the host’s role, poured wine for Huangfu Shaozong.

Huangfu Shaozong felt this made him seem impolite and was about to say something when footsteps sounded on the stairs: “Is the Bloodthirsty Asura Zhao Changhe here?”

Zhao Changhe didn’t stop pouring wine, glancing at Huangfu Shaozong with a knowing smile: “Brother Huangfu, you should have gone to Langya.”

You, a marquis’s son, host a banquet, and no one guards the stairs? Who would believe that? You also want to test my measure.

Huangfu Shaozong’s face flushed slightly, knowing his intention had been seen through. He didn’t defend himself but turned to look at the newcomer: “I, Huangfu, am hosting. Are you slapping my face?”

The newcomer clasped his fists: “It’s rare for the Bloodthirsty Asura to come to the capital. If I don’t seize this chance to see his skill, I’ll never have another opportunity. Young Marquis, please understand a martial artist’s heart.”

Huangfu Shaozong looked at Zhao Changhe and tentatively asked, “Brother Zhao’s opinion…”

Zhao Changhe finished pouring Huangfu Shaozong’s wine and began to pour his own: “As you wish.”

The newcomer took a deep breath and slowly drew his sword: “I am the Capital’s Mad Dragon, Chen…”

“I have no interest in knowing your name. Draw your sword.” Zhao Changhe hadn’t even drawn his blade; his hand was still pouring wine, not even glancing at the other.

The newcomer finally showed anger: “The Bloodthirsty Asura looks down on us capital men too much!”

“Don’t speak for the capital. I only look down on individuals.” Zhao Changhe put down the wine jug with some annoyance: “Damn it, I was planning to finish this while pouring wine, but you talk too much, ruining my pose. Can’t you capital men be more direct?”

Huangfu Shaozong’s expression turned very interesting.

What kind of thinking was this—caring about striking a pose?

He could learn from that. No wonder this guy was so famous; it came from this.

The Capital’s Mad Dragon was stunned for a moment, then flew into a rage: “You go too far!”

The sword light shot like a stream, straight for Zhao Changhe’s face, as if intending to carve a matching scar on his other cheek to teach him a lesson.

Zhao Changhe raised his wine bowl with his left hand, toasting Huangfu Shaozong: “Thanks for the hospitality. A toast to you, Brother Huangfu.”

Huangfu Shaozong, intrigued, raised his bowl to clink.

As the two bowls clinked with a “ding,” the flying sword light reached Zhao Changhe’s face at that moment. Zhao Changhe suddenly raised his right hand, chopping sideways.

In the opponent’s eyes, Zhao Changhe, who had been sitting casually with countless openings, suddenly had all those openings vanish as he raised his hand. A barrier like a mountain rose, as if a god looked down from above.

“Slap!” The chopping hand struck the side of the sword. What seemed like an ordinary chop suddenly erupted with terrifying force upon contact, bending the sword itself. The thrust was deflected, brushing past Zhao Changhe.

An unseen hook caught the opponent’s foot, sending him lunging forward, crashing with a “bang” against a pillar behind, then sliding slowly down.

Zhao Changhe acted as if nothing had happened, tilting his head back and draining the bowl: “Good wine!”

Huangfu Shaozong’s eyes held a deep meaning: “The Divine Sovereign Wind and Thunder Palm…”

“Good eye. Not very skilled in its use. Forgive my clumsiness, Brother Huangfu.”

In the span of that brief exchange, several more people came up the stairs. One of them drew his sword and charged straight at Zhao Changhe: “Huang Shaozu of the Capital’s Huang family requests the Bloodthirsty Asura’s instruction!”

“Next time, no need to announce your name. Whoever can make me draw my blade, I’ll be interested in knowing their name.” Zhao Changhe flicked a finger, and the long sword flew out of the man’s hand.

“Clear Ripples of the Blue Waves…”

“Good eye.” The next moment, a fist the size of a vinegar jar smashed into Huang Shaozu’s face: “Brother Huangfu, can you identify this punch?”

“…I can’t. It’s just a random punch, isn’t it?”

“My Blood Fiend Blade Technique’s accompanying Blood Fiend Fist is so dishonored?”

“…”

“Bang!” Huang Shaozu crashed into another pillar, unconscious.

“The Capital’s Xie family…”

“I said no need to announce names.” Zhao Changhe shot out a hand, grabbed the opponent’s wrist, and with a casual yank, slammed him to the ground.

“The Capital’s Zhao family…”

“Oh, same surname, but no special treatment.”

“Bang, bang, bang, bang…” Huangfu Shaozong watched as one after another crashed into pillars and passed out, his face changing color.

All these people were at the fifth to seventh levels of the Mystic Gate, and some were even higher in cultivation than Zhao Changhe.

But not one could last two moves against Zhao Changhe. Not only had he not drawn his blade, he hadn’t even moved from his seat.

No, he had only used one hand; the other was still pouring wine. One bowl of wine, one man felled. Within a few breaths, ten bowls were down, and the pavilion was littered with unconscious bodies.

The gap was so vast it didn’t look like a battle between equals—it was like an adult beating children.

Huangfu Shaozong himself was at the seventh level of the Mystic Gate and the eleventh of the Hidden Dragon, theoretically stronger than Zhao Changhe, yet he had to admit that even if he could easily defeat these people, he could not do it as effortlessly as Zhao Changhe.

That was the eye of a veteran of countless battles, the most direct and effective application of combat techniques—something that could never be understood by anyone who had not rolled in the blood of the jianghu. Even the seemingly ordinary Blood Fiend Fist had been wielded by Zhao Changhe as if it were some supreme art.

Moreover, Huangfu Shaozong could see that as the battle progressed, Zhao Changhe's fists and palms grew even more practiced. The Divine Phoenix Wind-Thunder Palm had indeed been somewhat rusty at first, but later it became truly immovable as a mountain—no one could break through the range of his palm.

"Bang!" Zhao Changhe punched another man in the face, then poured himself another drink—the flask was empty.

Zhao Changhe laughed heartily: "Too many people, not enough wine. How stingy is the capital in hosting guests! Someone, bring more wine!"

The tavern fell silent, and even Huangfu Shaozong's mind went blank for a moment.

It seemed that they had come of their own accord, allowing this man to make his name known throughout the capital over a single feast.