Chapter 55: Cui Yuanyang

CHAPTER 55

Cui Yuanyang

"Shwish!" A blood-colored blade flashed past. The man in the martial arts hall stepped like a swimming dragon, narrowly dodging the fierce strike, and turned his blade to slice at Zhao Changhe's nape.

Zhao Changhe, whose strength seemed already spent, abruptly reversed his momentum. With a well-practiced backward slash, he parried the opponent's blade.

The man's footwork shifted again, and he inexplicably appeared on the left, his longsword arcing toward Zhao Changhe's waist.

Zhao Changhe's Blood Fiend Blade Technique came with its own footwork—adequate for dodging and weaving—and after combining it with the Flying Blood Trace lightness skill, it felt even smoother. Yet this bout made him feel clumsy, as if rooted to the spot, while his opponent was slippery and elusive, a real handful.

Both were at the third level of the Mystic Gate, and the opponent wasn't even cultivating both internal and external arts. Still, this fight was no easy task. Strictly speaking, if he lost, it would count as being outclassed by a lower rank.

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. In the Blood God Sect, everyone trained in the same techniques, so their strengths and weaknesses were similar. But once you step out into the world, you see its vastness and find things worth learning.

He'd realized this back when sparring with Yue Hongling—the world is wide, and the strengths of various schools can't be seen from the narrow confines of Mount Beimang.

Thus, one must test their blade across the world!

Fortunately, this hall master's footwork, however slippery, wasn't as slick as Yue Hongling's. After training with her, Zhao Changhe could track opponents of this level. The longer the fight, the clearer it became, until he could even predict where the man's steps would land.

"Smack!" Just as the hall master darted right, Zhao Changhe stuck out a foot and hooked him cleanly.

The hall master stumbled to the ground in panic, his first thought flashing: My head's gone.

If Zhao Changhe had followed up with a slash, his head would indeed be gone... And given that Zhao Changhe was a ruthless killer who'd cut down anyone anywhere, he might actually do it...

The martial arts disciples all cried out and started to rush forward, but Zhao Changhe grabbed the hall master by the arm, stepped back, held the blade upside down in his fist, and bowed: "Thank you for your instruction, Hall Master. The Wandering Dragon Bagua Step is truly excellent footwork. I've gained much from today's bout. Zhao thanks you."

The whole hall stared dumbfounded as Zhao Changhe turned and walked out. Before long, he vanished into the rainy night.

People exchanged glances. The hall master rubbed his bruised ankle and muttered in confusion: "Is that really Zhao Changhe? Why is he different from the rumors?"

"I heard Zhao Changhe has a full beard, rough and fierce-looking."

"I heard he's eight feet tall and eight feet around the waist."

"I heard he eats raw human flesh."

Amid the chaos, a weak voice said: "But the wanted poster looks just like him. Haven't you all seen it? What's with all the 'I heard'?"

Silence.

It really was Zhao Changhe. Was there something wrong with the world's perception?

The hall master sighed: "Enough nonsense. Of course it's Zhao Changhe. That standard Blood Fiend Art, Blood Fiend Blade Technique—the killing aura practically spills out, his eyes turn bloodshot when he channels his power. That's exactly why it's so strange. Such a ferocious demonic art, yet he controls it so well... And he, he was even polite. I'd have believed he was from the Cui or Wang families..."

"So he really just came to challenge our blade techniques and broaden his knowledge... Not to show off or rob anyone? How did someone like that end up with such a reputation?"

The martial arts disciples felt like they were in a dream. And Zhao Changhe felt the same.

He turned a street corner and saw, at first glance, a young girl pitifully wrapped in a furry hooded marten coat, huddled against the wall, shivering. The rain poured down, soaking her thoroughly. The coat was worse than useless—it only made things more uncomfortable and cold.

Looking at the round face peeking from under the hood, Zhao Changhe pinched his forehead: "Miss Cui, what are you doing? Didn't your brother have someone take you home? Why are you sitting here begging?"

"I, I don't want to go back. I'm not begging. I'm waiting for you."

"By normal human intelligence, after your mishap at the stronghold and that important life lesson, shouldn't you recognize your shortcomings, go home, and train hard? Instead, you run out looking for a man. What kind of creature thinks like that?"

"Are you training?"

"I am."

"You left Mount Beimang with your blade because roaming the martial world is better than bitter cultivation in the mountains, right?"

"Of course."

"Then why isn't following you training? I've memorized all my family's martial arts, I've stolen plenty of pills. What's the point of training at home compared to roaming the world with you?"

Zhao Changhe was speechless. He'd trapped himself.

This girl's logic wasn't stupid at all. From a training perspective, it was irrefutable. Wasn't that exactly why he'd entered the martial world?

But the problem was, why did she trust him so much! She should have kept pestering her brother!

"Miss Cui." Zhao Changhe sighed helplessly, hands on his hips. "Do you know what we call this behavior in my hometown dialect? 'Giving it away for free.'"

Cui Yuanyang blinked, not understanding.

"What's the most important thing to guard against when traveling the martial world?"

Cui Yuanyang answered without hesitation: "The treachery of people's hearts. I've seen that clearly on your journey."

"Then why do you think I'm not the treacherous one?" Zhao Changhe said, exasperated. "You're a pretty young girl. You told me you know all the Cui family martial arts, and you're carrying resources and medicine, maybe a lot of money. I could take your things, force you to write down the Cui family's secret arts, and then I could bend you into eighteen different positions and play with you every day."

Cui Yuanyang finally couldn't handle such blunt words. Her face reddened as she lowered her head: "You... you wouldn't. If you would, I'd have been..."

"Miss, back then I wasn't in the mood, and it wasn't the right time. Once I had a good environment, I can't be sure what I'd do. You trust me more than I trust myself! I'm a bandit, you know? A bandit!"

Cui Yuanyang fiddled with her collar and said nothing.

Zhao Changhe looked around. The rain was still pouring, the long street empty and silent.

Seeing the pitiful girl, he couldn't stay angry. He sighed: "Now I can't even bring myself to send you home alone, afraid you'll get lost on the way, you fool. Fine. I don't have a fixed destination anyway—I just follow my whims to challenge and train my blade. I'll adjust my route and take you toward Qinghe."

Cui Yuanyang secretly glanced at his expression, thinking: You still say you're not a good person. You're a true gentleman. Why do you insist on pretending to be bad and rough?

She didn't say something stupid like "I won't go home, I want to roam the world." She knew she was already causing trouble for Zhao Changhe. Unlike Cui Yuanyong, Zhao Changhe's own cultivation wasn't complete, and he was hunted by both righteous and demonic factions, treading on thorns at every step. How could he manage a burden?

If he got annoyed, he could just dump her at some government office, and the officials would be happy to send her home. Zhao Changhe probably hadn't thought of that yet, and was willing to escort her partway home. That was good enough.

Everyone thought Yangyang was naive, but most of the time, she had her wits about her!

"Get up. There's an inn over there. We'll check in. If you stay soaked any longer, even at the third level of the Mystic Gate, you'll get sick. This is a low-martial world, don't think you're some immortal."

Cui Yuanyang followed close behind him, listening to his strange choice of words, and felt a strange shift in her mood.

Only now did it truly hit her: this was a man and a woman, alone, staying at an inn.

Earlier, she'd been so excited about traveling the martial world with him that she hadn't even thought about it.

But strangely, her heart was calm.

Because he was truly a gentleman.

"Boss, any rooms? Don't tell me there's only one."

"Of course there are several. There's even a separate courtyard." The innkeeper dozed at the counter, saying impatiently, "As long as you have money."

Zhao Changhe snapped his fingers at Cui Yuanyang, signaling it was her turn.

Cui Yuanyang blushed as she pulled a piece of silver from her bundle: "I'll, I'll take the separate courtyard. Don't let anyone disturb us."

Her crisp, pleasant voice jolted the innkeeper fully awake. He looked up at the young girl, then at Zhao Changhe, his gaze turning very strange.

Young master, how many years are you aiming for?