Chapter 59: Han Wubing

Chapter 59: Han Wubing

This was undoubtedly a highly experienced assassin.

If his first sword had struck directly at Cui Yuanyang, Zhao Changhe, who was poised and ready, would have cleaved his head off with one stroke.

But he feigned an attack on Zhao Changhe first. As their weapons clashed, Zhao Changhe’s center of gravity naturally shifted backward, and his blade’s follow-through was also set to guard his own vital points. Yet the assassin had already used the momentum to lunge toward Cui Yuanyang. Zhao Changhe, after all, was not that seasoned; had his thoughts been a beat slower or his countermove adjusted a fraction too late, Cui Yuanyang would have been lying dead on the spot.

Zhao Changhe indeed had no time to readjust his balance. But what no one expected was that, just as the assassin’s sword light veered, Zhao Changhe’s left hand had already flicked a sharp pebble. It was as if the assassin had turned around on his own, offering his back to Zhao Changhe’s strike—a sharp *crack* as it hit the shoulder blade.

The assassin’s arm went numb, and he could barely hold his sword. Cui Yuanyang, no mere helpless fool, seized the moment and executed a Flash of Light, sweeping aside the assassin’s limp blade and driving her own straight through his throat.

“…” The assassin died with tears in his eyes at the hands of the little white rabbit, never understanding how he had met his end.

It was, of course, the martial virtue that even Yue Hongling had cursed. While wildly swinging his blade and retreating his center of gravity, he had already been slyly flicking that pebble. It was originally Zhao Changhe’s own dirty trick for fighting, but who knew the assassin would turn, making it seem like a gift.

The black-clad youth watching from the sidelines couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his mouth.

Zhao Changhe silently thanked his luck, cold sweat beading on his forehead, but he dared not relax for a moment, his eyes fixed on the black-clad youth’s hands.

The black-clad youth shook his head and finally moved.

A flash of sword light, but not aimed at Zhao Changhe or Cui Yuanyang. The remaining few members of the Cui family let out nearly simultaneous screams and collapsed.

Rain poured through the hole in the roof, washing the blood from the floor. The once empty and silent ruined temple was now littered with corpses.

Cui Yuanyang’s face still bore tear streaks. She cautiously hid behind Zhao Changhe, peeking half her head out to look at the black-clad youth. Not just her—even Zhao Changhe couldn’t figure out this man’s origins or his intentions.

The black-clad youth sheathed his sword and finally spoke: “These people, though not bearing the Cui surname, can indeed be counted as part of the Cui family. Miss Cui knows the connections better than I do.”

Cui Yuanyang bit her lower lip and said nothing.

The man suddenly laughed: “The one who says ‘first come, first served, don’t disturb others’ is a crude mountain bandit. The one who claims this place is reserved and drives people away is a noble clan. Ha… hahaha…”

His laughter grew into a wild cackle, shaking the roof tiles.

Cui Yuanyang pitifully tugged at Zhao Changhe’s sleeve, her head almost burrowing into his armpit.

Zhao Changhe finally asked, “May I dare to ask your name, sir?”

The man’s laughter slowly subsided, and his face returned to its deadpan calm: “Han Wubing.”

Someone who introduces themselves so simply is usually quite famous. If Zhao Changhe went out and said his own name now, everyone would know who he was, because in this world, no one could have missed the Chaos Chronicle. Being listed once meant fame across the land, even if only at rank two hundred and fifty.

This man dared to introduce himself like that without fear of ridicule, clearly of the same caliber.

Han Wubing, Hidden Dragon rank eighty-seven, slightly higher than Zhao Changhe. His cultivation was also a bit higher—he was at the fourth level of the Mystic Gate.

Profession… bounty hunter.

In truth, the Chaos Chronicle didn’t list everyone’s names in a single ranking. Every time it flashed, someone would record it, compile all the lists into a book, and sell it out. Then every change in the rankings delighted those profiteers, as they could sell a new edition.

Zhao Changhe didn’t know why people would spend money when they could compile the list themselves, but he was one of those who paid, since he hadn’t seen the past editions.

“So it’s Brother Han.” Zhao Changhe cupped his hands. “I am Zhao Changhe.”

“I know. I knew before you even entered the door—I’ve seen your portrait so many times I’m sick of it.”

Han Wubing stopped there, and everyone knew the unspoken half.

He was a bounty hunter. Why would he have memorized the portraits of wanted criminals?

Cui Yuanyang tensed up again. Sensibly, she stopped clutching Zhao Changhe’s sleeve and stepped back half a pace, afraid to hinder him.

Han Wubing’s gaze fell on Cui Yuanyang’s face. Zhao Changhe, without a change in expression, shifted half a step sideways, blocking her completely, not even a corner of her clothes visible.

Han Wubing sighed. “Miss Cui has a bounty on her head, but I don’t kill that kind… No need to be so tense.”

Zhao Changhe said flatly, “So you want to kill me?”

“Everyone thinks I’m a bounty hunter. That’s a misunderstanding. The Chaos Chronicle doesn’t list professions—that’s the compilers’ own addition… It’s just that I’ve collected various bounties, from both the righteous and the unrighteous paths.”

“So that’s not a bounty hunter?”

“I travel the world only to test my sword. But I neither steal nor rob—where would I get money? The various bounties are mostly for scum of the jianghu or vendettas among the underworld. I seek these people to test my sword and sustain my travels. That’s all. If you insist on calling me a bounty hunter, I suppose it fits… but the priority is different.”

Zhao Changhe twitched his mouth. From this perspective, he himself was a perfect match—similar rank, slightly lower in strength, a natural test subject. And with the government’s wanted poster, he was clearly jianghu scum. As for money, the demonic sect had a huge bounty of a thousand taels of gold…

Knowing what Zhao Changhe was thinking, Han Wubing said calmly, “I came here specifically to find you. I didn’t expect to run into you on the way… Your blade technique is excellent—the best among opponents of similar cultivation I’ve encountered. I truly want to have a good fight with you, but not now.”

“Why? Because I said ‘first come, first served’ and didn’t disturb you?”

Han Wubing’s gaze fell again behind Zhao Changhe, and his usually indifferent eyes softened. “Because of that line, ‘repay the jianghu in my heart’… Someone like Miss Cui should not fall at the hands of petty men. I hope you can escort her safely back. Then I will challenge you. Do you dare accept?”

Zhao Changhe found it intriguing.

He, Yue Hongling, Cui Yuanyang, and this Han Wubing before him—each had a jianghu in their hearts, and that jianghu might be the same thing, or at least similar.

He cupped his hands in salute. “It would be my pleasure. Brother Han can name a place, and I will surely come.”

“About a thousand li southeast of Qinghe, there is a lake called Ancient Sword Lake. I happen to have business there. For your journey there and back… the Beginning of Summer—would that be enough time?”

“Yes.”

“Then at the Beginning of Summer, by the shores of Ancient Sword Lake.” Han Wubing returned the salute, said no more, and turned to leave.

Only then did Cui Yuanyang poke her head out from behind Zhao Changhe. “The legend of the sword at Ancient Sword Lake is most likely false. My family has sent people to investigate many times—there’s nothing there.”

Han Wubing did not stop walking. “I know. I’m going there for the Qingming Festival, just to pay respects to an old friend.”

“Who put the bounty on my head?”

“I don’t know, but the reward is high… I’m sorry. In the end, this is not the jianghu in your heart.”

His voice faded, and he was gone.

Zhao Changhe turned and pulled Cui Yuanyang out, laughing. “This guy seems like a man of few words, but he said a lot today—probably for your sake. Truly lovable.”

Cui Yuanyang said nothing, staring blankly at the corpses on the ground.

Zhao Changhe put her rabbit hat, which had fallen off during the fight, back on her head and said softly, “Don’t think too much. This place is dirty. Let’s find somewhere else.”

Cui Yuanyang murmured, “I didn’t expect that this time, with you and me, Han Wubing, that unknown assassin, and the Cui family—four parties meeting—the lowest of them all would be the Cui family.”

Zhao Changhe ruffled her hair. “It has nothing to do with you.”

Cui Yuanyang tilted her head to look at him. “You’ve suddenly become gentle too. Is it to comfort me after the assassination, or because of what I just said?”

Zhao Changhe smiled and didn’t answer.

Cui Yuanyang understood, but then she suddenly beamed. “But the jianghu I wanted—you’ve already repaid it to me just now.”