Chapter 43: Children Of The Jianghu

Chapter 43: Sons and Daughters of the Jianghu

Yue Hongling wanted to say, "Heal my ass, do you even know how many days you'll need to rest?"

He wasn't just wounded by the counterattack—the reckless overexertion from forcing that ultimate technique was absurd. Yue Hongling could see that his entire body's qi and blood were depleted, his muscles limp and weak. The high-quality true qi he'd just boasted about was now so drained that not a trace remained. At this point, even a goose could beat him to death.

Yet he was still laughing, utterly delighted, genuinely looking forward to fighting again.

What a fierce and heroic man.

A man like this shouldn't be tangled up in matters of men and women; he was born to cleave mountains and rivers with his blade in the jianghu.

Yue Hongling curled her lips but didn't mock him. She only said, "I have a certain guess about the nature of your true qi."

"Hmm?" Zhao Changhe looked up at her.

"Just now, when you borrowed my true qi to drive the 'Buddhas and Immortals Scatter,' you weren't just using true qi. You simultaneously mobilized the power of your blood and qi, merging them together as if they were one technique. That shows its compatibility is unparalleled—it can transform at any moment into whatever power you need, internal or external. For now, it means you've gained an extra reserve of blood and qi, like that Blood Fiend Art."

Zhao Changhe beamed. "That's great!"

Yue Hongling continued, "Right now, it's like this because you're primarily using the Blood Fiend Art. But I suspect that at deeper levels, it will reverse—no matter what other cultivation you have, it can be absorbed and accommodated by this true qi. This intent of 'all rivers flowing into the sea' is immensely grand. I wonder who created it; it's truly formidable."

Zhao Changhe nodded slightly. That made sense—it perfectly matched the logic of the technique Xia Longyuan had left for his illegitimate son outside the palace. No matter what the child learned from his mother or outsiders, it could be integrated with this technique, and in the later stages, it would even become the dominant one. And that concept of 'a hundred rivers returning to the sea' was inherently the will of an emperor—or rather, 'all under heaven is the king's land.'

For the first time, Zhao Changhe felt a hint of respect for the old emperor he had never met. Truly impressive. Yet a thought crossed his mind: could such a formidable man really have fallen into senility and chaos in his later years? He wasn't that old, after all—for a cultivator of his level, was being in his sixties or seventies considered old?

Could there be some problem here... Was he already dead? Or had he gone astray in his cultivation?

As he was pondering, Yue Hongling had already lazily walked into the house: "No matter what you're thinking, you need to rest well tonight. It's not that I'm seeking shelter here to heal; it seems I'm the one who needs to stand guard for you."

Zhao Changhe painstakingly shuffled into the room step by step. The first thing he saw was Yue Hongling applying medicine and bandaging the wound on her lower abdomen.

Strangely enough, earlier he'd felt the need to avert his eyes and step out, and Yue Hongling had blushed. But now, he wondered why such a thing required deliberate avoidance. It was just a wound on her belly, looking quite gruesome—what ambiguous or romantic implications could possibly be read into it? There was nothing at all.

Perhaps it was because back then they were practically strangers who had met only once, whereas now they were friends?

He didn't know. In any case, Zhao Changhe glanced at it without any particular feeling, sat down by the bed, and closed his eyes to recover. Yue Hongling, for her part, finished applying the medicine and wrapping the bandage, then sat on a chair, crossed her legs, and closed her eyes as well, perfectly natural.

Before long, both of them had entered a meditative state, and the night finally fell silent.

This seemed to be exactly the scene Yue Hongling had envisioned when she came seeking refuge—only it had arrived a bit late. If only those awkward incidents hadn't happened... Just before entering meditation, that thought flickered through both their minds almost simultaneously.

...

The next morning, Yue Hongling was the first to finish her recuperation and opened her eyes.

Zhao Changhe was still in meditation, his brows slightly furrowed, looking somewhat pained.

It wasn't the pain of recovery from overexertion, but the inherent flaw of the Blood Fiend Art—when weak, it was harder to endure than usual. However, it seemed his inner technique was helping to soothe it, so the situation was still manageable.

Watching him, Yue Hongling thought that this man had endured more hardship in his training than most. The torment of the Blood Fiend Art could strike at any moment, and the harder he trained, the more frequent the bouts became. Many who practiced the Blood Fiend Art in the Blood God Sect just gave up, but Zhao Changhe only grew more diligent, as if he were wrestling with the pain, daring it to "come on!"

Outsiders couldn't see this; they only saw his boundless heroism, his momentum like a surging river.

He had repeatedly asked about various techniques and about his age from different angles, all in an attempt to see if his current technique could replace the Blood Fiend Art. The answer, in the end, was that it couldn't yet. He must have been disappointed inside, but it didn't show on his face—he remained carefree.

Yue Hongling knew she truly admired someone like him. He said he saw the jianghu of his imagination in her, but from her perspective, wasn't it the same?

A rogue's air? She had plenty of that herself. Chivalry and roguishness were often very close; perhaps they could both be called sons and daughters of the jianghu, very different from people like Cui Yuanyong. In Cui Yuanyong's eyes, she, Yue Hongling, was just a coarse, rogue-ridden woman.

They were of the same kind, and thus they felt close. Cui Yuanyong, on the other hand, was a gentleman like jade, a genuinely good person—he had even come injured to rescue her when he suspected she had fallen into bandits' hands—but they could never quite see eye to eye.

Footsteps sounded outside; someone was approaching.

Yue Hongling's hand rested on her sword hilt, her eyes instantly sharp.

"Knock, knock." A knock at the door: "Boss."

Yue Hongling let out a breath and glanced at Zhao Changhe, who was still frowning in pain. She shook her head and went to open the door.

Outside stood the cook, carrying a few cornmeal buns, two bowls of congee, and several small dishes of pickled vegetables. Seeing that it was "the sister-in-law" who opened the door, a flash of admiration crossed the cook's eyes, but he quickly lowered his head and smiled apologetically: "Good morning, sister-in-law. The boss ordered breakfast, and I've added a portion for you."

Yue Hongling pressed her forehead. If only these kinds of things would stop.

If they could just stop calling her "sister-in-law," things would be much more comfortable.

But now, she had no choice but to play the part. With a helpless sigh, she reached out and took the tray: "Thanks."

The cook rubbed his hands together: "Sister-in-law, you're truly a celestial being. The boss is a lucky man."

Lucky, my foot. Lucky to have the fortune of healing and meditating? Yue Hongling rolled her eyes, turned, and went back inside, setting the tray heavily on the table.

At that moment, Zhao Changhe opened his eyes. The pained expression slowly eased, and soon his familiar cheerful smile returned: "Morning. Oh, breakfast is here? I don't know what you usually eat in the morning, so just make do."

"Sons and daughters of the jianghu, we don't have so many fussy rules." Yue Hongling sat at the table, one foot propped on the adjacent stool, and drank her congee in big gulps.

This posture was quite different from the way she had leaned by the window when they first met. Zhao Changhe found it more familiar—sons and daughters of the jianghu should be like this, not like some delicate maiden.

He washed his face, performed a simple rinse, and sat down across from Yue Hongling with a smile: "You look full of vitality. Is your wound healed?"

"It wasn't that serious to begin with. Just one external cut and a bit of sword qi inside. After a good night's rest, it's mostly gone. In another two or three days, I'll be fully recovered." Yue Hongling frowned. "Your phrasing is strange—what's this 'full of vitality'?"

"A dialect from Zhao Cuo. Just get the general idea." Zhao Changhe paused, looking a bit dazed. "It's very possible that in a few more days, you won't even hear these words from me anymore. In the end, I have to... merge into the jianghu."

Yue Hongling thought he meant that all the people from Zhao Cuo were dead, and there was no one left to speak his native tongue with. She sighed as well: "If only I had arrived a step earlier..."

"What's past is past. Dwelling on it is pointless. Do you want me to constantly talk about how you saved my life?"

Yue Hongling snorted. "I can't even tell if you're grateful at all."

"Then what do you think was the reason I wanted to kill Cui Yuanyong yesterday when I saw you were injured? I had no grudge against him, had never even seen him. Was it really because I secretly love Yue Hongling? Don't let others' wild guesses lead you astray."

Yue Hongling: "..."

"Speaking of Cui Yuanyong, I don't know much about these aristocratic families. Could you give me a brief introduction?"

"I told you yesterday—divine techniques and secret arts aren't available to everyone. Over time, those who mastered good techniques formed various great sects and powerful family lineages. That's normal. What's there to introduce?"

"Then why is it also the Cui of Qinghe?"

"Also?" Yue Hongling was baffled. "Why can't it be the Cui of Qinghe?"

"...Could it be that they've been passed down since the last era? Or that they received some inheritance from that era? To be honest, I've deliberately looked through some history books, and they barely mention any of this."

"I don't know either. These families are indeed much older than the Great Xia. Dynasties rise and fall, but they remain... If you're interested in the glorious history of their clan, you should ask Cui Yuanyong himself. He'd probably be happy to boast a bit—though how much of it is true is anyone's guess."

"Would he bother with me?"

Yue Hongling thought for a moment. "Hard to say. These aristocratic sons are all outwardly refined and courteous, but I always feel there's a distance and a judging look in their bones—uncomfortable. I'm ranked second on the Hidden Dragon List, so they consider me someone worth associating with. As for you... I don't know how they view someone at the bottom of the list. Probably still acceptable? After all, you're on the Chaos Chronicle alongside them."

Zhao Changhe nodded. "If the chance arises, introduce me to them."

Yue Hongling found it odd. "Why are you suddenly interested in this? Going out of your way to kiss up to them? That doesn't seem like you..."

Zhao Changhe looked at her with a strange expression. Do you know me that well?

But her assessment was correct—by nature, he shouldn't be interested in such things, nor would he want to deal with any aristocratic sons. Unfortunately, unraveling the mysteries of this world wasn't something he could do based on temperament alone. These connections were crucial for him to lift the fog, so he had to approach them, no matter how much he disliked it.

Yue Hongling grew restless under his peculiar gaze and finally slammed the table. "What are you staring at? I don't know you that well—what's so strange about getting it wrong? How's your recovery? Come on, time for sparring!"

Zhao Changhe didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He didn't say that she did know him well, feeling that in this situation it might come off as flirting and ruin the good rapport between them.

Actually, he did want to spar, but his recovery was poor, and he was also worried about Yue Hongling's wound reopening. After a moment's thought, he asked, "You said you could teach me three things. What's the third?"

"How to discern positions by sound, sense external enemies, and..." Yue Hongling suddenly flicked a chopstick off the table. The chopstick shot out with a "whoosh" and embedded itself in the door panel: "...strike enemies from afar, chasing souls to their doom. Do you want to learn?"