Chapter 383: High Mountains and Flowing Water

Chapter 383: High Mountains and Flowing Water

Now was not the time to counterattack against Maitreya.

First, Xiangyang itself was still in chaos and not yet fully settled; second, Tang Wanzhuang’s health had to be restored, lest any mishap occur during the campaign—even killing ten thousand Maitreyas would not make up for it.

Moreover, it would be best to wait for Ying Wu to come in person for a talk, and... next month’s birthday celebration of Yang Jingxiu should be attended, to smooth things over on all fronts.

Truly a completely different ecosystem. In this environment, individual combat prowess seemed utterly unimportant. No wonder the aristocratic clans looked down on the common folk, always regarding them as mere brutes.

Zhao Changhe massaged his temples with some headache, took leave of Li Si’an, and went to find Xue Canghai.

Xue Canghai was leading the Blood God Sect disciples, stationed in the barracks, glaring menacingly at the Xiangyang soldiers.

Seeing the bloodshot eyes of the Blood God followers, it was clear they hadn’t had their fill of chasing down Maitreya’s routed troops. They looked as if they wanted to pounce and slaughter every last Xiangyang soldier.

Chasing down tens of thousands of men, how many heads each had claimed was unknown. For followers long deprived of blood essence nourishment, this time might actually see them universally rise by a level or two... So they were itching for more experience, making the neighboring camp tremble in fear.

Fortunately, Xue Canghai wasn’t foolish. He understood what Zhao Changhe was thinking and managed to restrain these lawless brutes. With nothing else to do, they were all in the camp lifting stone dumbbells, tempering their blood and qi, bustling with activity.

In truth, it was probably just the effect of a long drought finally meeting rain. Killing too many more might not yield much experience. Xue Canghai himself felt that after the slaughter, he had gained little benefit, and he became more convinced of Zhao Changhe’s interpretation of the Blood God’s intent.

Blood essence—enough was enough. It wasn’t an endless demand; don’t put the cart before the horse.

What truly mattered was the battlefield’s killing intent... Zhao Changhe’s slash of “Rest” had deeply moved Xue Canghai. He too held the Blood God Blade, simulating that slash’s intent in the camp, lost in thought.

“Old Xue, Old Xue.” Zhao Changhe lifted the tent flap and entered, quite pleased: “You’ve kept them in check well. I thought I’d see a pack of wolves.”

“Aren’t they a pack of starving wolves now? They’re famished,” Xue Canghai said irritably.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. There’ll be a chance to fight soon.”

“We’re going to wipe out Maitreya, right?” Xue Canghai asked. “When the time comes, Tang Wanzhuang will be in charge, with a bunch of Tang family elites, militia from all over the south gathering—will there still be a place for us?”

“Are we in a bad position?” Zhao Changhe said with a grin. “We’ve decided to make you the commander of the Xiangyang army, how about that?”

Xue Canghai: “?”

You mean me, a former mountain stronghold chief, suddenly...

“Uh...” Xue Canghai’s tone softened by three degrees: “With my background, well, I’ve never studied military strategy. I’m afraid I’d let you down...”

“It’s fine, learn as you go,” Zhao Changhe said. “Also, ask around—some brothers might not want to be soldiers, preferring the martial world. Would they be interested in the Demon Suppression Bureau? I think Instructor Sun would be a good fit.”

Xue Canghai’s eyes turned into spirals.

Was this an amnesty?

But the court hadn’t even issued a decree. Would this amnesty count? Or was it just your say-so?

Right... He was a prince, the only one.

“It’s settled. Whether they become soldiers or join the Demon Suppression Bureau, the rules must change, and their temperaments must shift. If they can’t adapt to the old ways, then don’t do it—don’t make things awkward for everyone.”

Xue Canghai hesitated for a long time. He wanted to ask if Zhao Changhe had decided to become emperor, but the words felt too direct and uncultured, unbecoming of his current status. So he swallowed them back, his face turning purple as he finally forced out: “You... what’s your next move?”

Zhao Changhe looked up at the sky: “I’m going to learn medicine from someone, to teach me how to treat her.”

Xue Canghai: “???”

...

Taking Instructor Sun and a few others who didn’t want to be common soldiers to the Demon Suppression Bureau, Zhao Changhe flashed his token amid the bureau’s suspicious gazes and publicly declared Instructor Sun the head of Xiangyang’s Demon Suppression Bureau. After this highly irregular private transfer of court authority—turning demon cult bandits into police—Zhao Changhe slipped back to the prefect’s mansion, his stomach full of guilt and his mind a mess of debts.

Anyway, no matter how unreliable, with the backing of the First Seat, who cared?

It was just a temporary measure. Seeing Instructor Sun’s reluctant expression, he probably didn’t want the job either... But since there was no one left for public order, let it be for now. We’ll figure it out later.

Look, with this, wasn’t the chaotic Xiangyang suddenly much more normal?

Money and grain were on the way, almost here.

The missing personnel were filled; the riddled army now had leaders.

No need for Wanzhuang to bury herself in paperwork anymore. She could properly study medicine and seek treatment.

As a disciple, this was truly filial piety that moved heaven and earth, making the Great Xia weep with emotion...

Zhao Changhe sighed to himself as he entered the back courtyard of the prefect’s mansion. Faint sounds of qin music drifted from within. He slowed his pace and listened carefully, frowning slightly.

The skill was mediocre. Perhaps after being influenced by that page of the Heavenly Book on the Way of Nature, his standards had risen, and Wanzhuang simply hadn’t had much time to practice, so her level had dropped?

Peeking around the corner, he saw Baoqin playing the qin.

Zhao Changhe: “...”

So it was you. Never mind.

His eyes searched around and spotted Tang Wanzhuang reclining sideways against a pavilion, one hand supporting her chin, the other holding a scroll as she read. Behind her, rockeries rose in layers, and a stream babbled. She looked like a fairy from a painting, lazily rising from a nap to read in leisure.

Zhao Changhe’s heart skipped a beat.

She was truly stunning.

Her aura was perfectly captured, hitting all the right notes. Even Baoqin’s qin music sounded more pleasant, the little girl playing so leisurely, perfectly complementing the scene. Not bad.

“Baoqin.” Tang Wanzhuang kept her eyes on the book, not lifting her eyelids, and said languidly, “Give him the qin.”

“Zheng!” The music stopped abruptly. Baoqin stammered, “Miss, he... he...”

“He won’t break it this time~” Tang Wanzhuang drawled, coaxing like a child: “If he does, you can flick his face, flick him to death.”

Zhao Changhe thought to himself, at least she said “flick his face,” I thought she meant...

Baoqin reluctantly rose, eyeing him warily: “Be gentle!”

Zhao Changhe said helplessly, “I have a lot to report to you.”

“Since you’re in full charge and helping me recuperate, I won’t listen to these things.”

“What if something goes wrong? I’m uneasy myself, not sure if I’m doing it right.”

“Could it be worse than when Maitreya occupied this place?” Tang Wanzhuang smiled faintly. “Sit down. I want to hear if you’ve practiced the qin these days.”

“I came to learn medicine. Can we set the qin aside for now?”

Tang Wanzhuang ignored him, her eyes returning to the book.

I’ve forgotten some things; I need to hurry and review a few more pages of medical texts, so I don’t embarrass myself. Would I tell you that?

Zhao Changhe, however, thought this elder sister was calm and confident, unhurried, and felt a bit more respect. He sat by the qin, pressing the strings, and asked, “Which piece do you want to hear?”

“Whichever you’re most familiar with,” Tang Wanzhuang said. “You never knew many pieces. Why pretend now?”

Zhao Changhe was quite exasperated. Indeed, he knew few pieces. The most familiar was probably “High Mountains and Flowing Water.” When Tang Wanzhuang had taught him the qin, she mainly taught this kind, emphasizing that their relationship was one of mutual understanding and support, without any other implications. Now, having him play it again felt like a repeated warning...

But by now, such warnings meant nothing to this stubborn bear.

Zhao Changhe plucked the strings, and the melody of “High Mountains and Flowing Water” began, a bit rusty, from his fingertips.

Baoqin pouted. So amateur.

She stole a glance at her mistress, who seemed to be smiling still.

It was over.

Just as she was fuming, she heard his playing shift from rusty to skilled. Baoqin let out a “huh” and pricked up her ears.

Skilled was relative; mainly, as a martial artist, his fingerwork and strength control were now effortless. These things were easy to pick up by analogy, just like learning medicine should be. But the artistic conception was quite remarkable—as if one could truly feel from his music the towering mountains, the clear streams, the vast blue sky, the crisp air—a leisurely, transcendent, otherworldly mood that drew one in.

This level of conveying meaning through sound—even Baoqin, who had studied the qin since childhood, never mastered it. How did he manage it?

Tang Wanzhuang's gaze involuntarily lifted from the pages, settling on his profile.

It gradually overlapped and merged with the figure sitting cross-legged by the stream, playing the qin amidst the surroundings.

That was him... it had always been him.

She had originally thought his skill at the qin was merely a figment of her imagination, but unexpectedly, he truly possessed such a level... Although he had not practiced and his technique was rusty, the artistic conception was broad and lofty—that was his innate spirit, combined with the way of natural landscapes he had somehow observed and comprehended, gradually becoming his own.

Even the essence, energy, and spirit of martial arts were present here.

Mountains towering a thousand ren, unyielding and firm. Rivers flowing ten thousand li, irresistible in momentum.

Each person sees something different in nature—that was his intent, to the point where the sound of high mountains and flowing waters became surging and roaring, the stream turning into a waterfall, wild geese crying in the vast sky, a man standing atop the highest peak.

In the valley below, hidden orchids were quietly blooming.

That was the intent at the end of the qin music—the orchid in the deep valley, viewed from a height—to whom was it directed?

The qin sound gradually ceased. Baoqin's expression had changed, and Tang Wanzhuang's eyes were also blazing. Neither had expected that after so long apart, his bearing had become like this—where was the bear-like figure from their memories?

From high mountains and flowing waters to now, they were already soulmates.

Zhao Changhe turned to look at Tang Wanzhuang and smiled gently: "I meant to play something soothing, but before I knew it, it became impassioned again... I don't think it suits your state right now. Let Baoqin play instead."

Tang Wanzhuang blurted out: "I don't want to hear her; I'm tired of it. I want to hear you play."

Baoqin opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Zhao Changhe rose to his full height, walked over, and sat down beside her: "Don't be difficult. Studying medicine is more important."

"Fine." Tang Wanzhuang, with a hint of petulance, thrust the medical book in her hand into his: "This is the first volume of *Shennong's Classic of Materia Medica*. First, follow the pictures and memorize the appearance and efficacy of each medicinal herb. Later, I'll test you."

Zhao Changhe's face turned green as he flipped through the thick pharmacopoeia. The memories of the college entrance exam, long dead, kept attacking his mind. How long had it been since he last studied? Could he really memorize all this? And it seemed this was only the first volume—there were many more, weren't there?

When faced with difficulty, one wants to slack off. A sudden thought struck Zhao Changhe—what if he connected the illustrations in this pharmacopoeia with the second page of the Celestial Book? What would happen?

If the second page was about the Way of Nature, would medicinal herbs be related? Could there be a clearer, frame-by-frame analysis of herbs, similar to the analysis of martial arts?

By extension, if he also threw in Xuanwu's *Map of Mountains and Rivers*, what changes would occur?