Chapter 87: Two Fools

Chapter 87 Two Fools

Half a month later.

Zhao Changhe sat by the stream, drinking water and feeding his horse, looking down at his own reflection in the rippling current.

His stubble had grown into a thick beard once more, and the martial robes gifted by the Cui family were already torn in several places. The gloss on the black coat of his stallion had faded to a dusty grey; the faint air of a noble young master clad in fine silks that he had possessed upon leaving the Cui manor had thoroughly devolved back into that of a rugged vagabond.

After misleading his pursuers with a deceptive detour, the clashes over the past fortnight had not been particularly frequent, appearing far less intense and grueling than during his escort of Cui Yuanyang.

Yet, due to the vast distance of this journey, the total number of encounters was far greater. Moreover, out of fear of exposing his trail, he could no longer employ the hit-and-run tactics of his previous breakthrough; every enemy met had to be slain. Time and again, he found himself fighting against overwhelming odds, tasked with ensuring not a single soul escaped, which proved exceedingly difficult.

The world was truly foolish in its expressions, casually tossing around phrases like "separated by a thousand miles" or "a distance of a thousand miles" without any standard measure. By precise calculation, escorting Cui Yuanyang home had spanned no more than five hundred miles at most, whereas the trek to Sword Lake was at least two thousand miles—nearly stretching from north of the river to south of it. With his winding detours factored in, the distance was absurdly vast.

Fortunately, time was on his side; otherwise, to arrive late for such a reason would be thoroughly embarrassing.

The very first words he would say upon meeting Han Wubing had to be: Who the hell told you that two thousand miles counts as a mere thousand?

This journey of a thousand... no, two thousand miles, braving endless wind and rain, enduring pursuits and blockades, was all to fulfill a simple promise of a duel. He knew not how outsiders would view it, nor if they would deem him an absolute fool, yet Zhao Changhe felt entirely at peace in his own heart.

Lifting his wineskin, he sat by the stream and drank, his mind drifting unbidden to Yue Hongling. Perhaps she alone would say "as it should be," while both Chichi and Yuanyang might not truly understand.

Another source of greater joy was the Divine Bird of Great Xia.

Originally altered by Cui Wenjin, the blade's murderous aura no longer bled outward, and its body had been obscured, no longer bright or sharp, appearing somewhat rust-covered and rather unsightly. Yet through the slaughter of these past days, the Divine Bird had drunk blood, and the rust had begun to turn a dark crimson. The coloration wound along the blade, coalescing into a dark pattern resembling a Vermilion Bird spreading its wings, shifting from a low-profile, rust-stained appearance into one of "ancient, weathered grandeur"—as if it simply refused to allow itself to look ugly under any circumstance.

Zhao Changhe found himself stuck between tears and laughter, yet he had no intention of concealing it further.

A divine weapon possessed a spirit; though not alive, it deserved respect.

Through the tempering of these past days, his affinity with the Divine Bird grew ever closer, and his command over the blade itself became increasingly familiar and effortless.

Anyone would assume that such a thick, heavy broadsword must be clumsy, requiring both hands to wield, just as it had been in his dream long ago... And yet...

Zhao Changhe held the blade with a single hand, casually sweeping it past his jaw, causing the black stallion to widen its eyes in terror.

Several tufts of beard fell away, leaving his chin completely clean, demonstrating a mastery that was exquisitely precise.

"The blade is honed, and Sword Lake is in sight." Zhao Changhe patted the stallion's head. "The closer we get, the more likely others will block my path. Are you afraid?"

The stallion snorted through its nostrils, its eyes filled with disdain.

"Ha!" Zhao Changhe swung himself onto the horse. "Let us go, the final stretch!"

...

Beside the ancient Sword Lake.

A sharp clang rang out as the tip of a sword snapped. Han Wubing clutched the wound on his shoulder, retreating slightly while holding his broken blade.

Surrounded by countless enemies, his gaze remained as placid as a deep well.

"People say names manifest in reverse... Han Wubing, I see you are indeed sick." Someone questioned him in utter disbelief. "Offering blood sacrifices for an old friend, slaying your enemies completely, and departing with carefree elegance—how magnificent that was! When we saw the Chronicle of the Chaotic World, we tried coming here to look, never expecting you to still be here. Yet what is this? You actually stayed behind instead of leaving? What on earth are you doing?"

Another intervened with a laugh, "Perhaps he thought that by killing his foes from the Sword Hut, he had no enemies left."

"Rank sixty-six on the newly minted Hidden Dragon List, yet stupid to this extent? Hahaha..." The crowd erupted into laughter. "How many bounties from both the righteous and demonic factions have you claimed, and how many people have you killed? Did you truly believe you had no enemies?"

Han Wubing finally spoke, "I am waiting for someone."

"Waiting for us? Hahaha..."

"I merely slaughtered a few insects; I did not expect the Chronicle of the Chaotic World to record such a trivial matter... Drawing others here was something I failed to foresee," Han Wubing said slowly. "But that was a miscalculation of my own, unrelated to the man I made a pact with. Since I promised him, I must wait."

The laughter of the crowd gradually faded, each face filled with bewilderment. "Merely because you made a promise to someone? You are waiting here for that?"

"Correct."

"Even if you die here?"

"Then I die here."

"What if the person you promised never shows up? Will you not regret it?"

"Then he is the one who broke faith, not I. What is there to regret?"

The expressions in the crowd shifted slightly; some showed disdain, while others held a touch of admiration.

Yet whether it was disdain or admiration, enemies remained enemies; none would stay their hand out of a shred of appreciation.

The atmosphere grew chillingly murderous once more.

...

Less than ten miles away, on a narrow path that was the sole passage to the ancient Sword Lake, several men sat by the edge of a bamboo grove, passing the time with casual chatter.

The sound of galloping hooves approached from afar, causing their expressions to shift slightly as they drew their long sabers and stood up.

Amidst the rising dust, Zhao Changhe arrived on horseback, his clothes tattered and drenched in freshly spilled blood.

Catching sight of the men blocking his path, Zhao Changhe froze for a rare moment, reining in his horse to look closer.

The man at the front sighed, "You really came here..."

"Yes."

"Why did you have to come?"

"I have a pact with someone."

The air fell silent for a few seconds before the other man erupted into curses, "Are you a fucking idiot? Just for this piece of shit matter, how many life-and-death battles have you fought along the way? Look at the blood on your body, you haven't even caught your breath yet. Do you truly think you are a heavenly god descended to earth, slicing through generals and breaking through gates?"

Zhao Changhe silently dismounted, patting his stallion, which intelligently darted into the bamboo grove in a flash.

Standing still with his blade on his back, Zhao Changhe sighed, "You should know my character..."

"Know it? I know jack shit! I thought you were a clever man, but what is the result? What use was it to scatter a bit of misdirection? Blocking you at Sword Lake is enough to trap you, just like when you escorted Cui Yuanyang! If you didn't come, it would all be over, do you not understand even that!"

Zhao Changhe said, "Because someone of Cult Leader Xue's stature wouldn't foolishly wait around in various places for half a month. Those who would do such a thing certainly have no status or position, and I can handle them."

The corner of the speaker's mouth twitched, "Are you mocking me again?"

Zhao Changhe continued to sigh, "It is just that I truly did not wish to run into you in a situation like this."

"Oh, you are even using honorifics now."

"I don't fucking want to fight you. Couldn't you just hide away and live out your retirement!"

Sun Hengchuan fell silent.

The Blood God Sect members beside him also broke out into a cold sweat on their foreheads.

Zhao Changhe's gaze swept over the surrounding sect members, asking curiously, "Why does this scene look like you are leading the squad?"

Sun Hengchuan replied, "My superior, Protector Ding, was leading, but the moment he arrived, he was called away by Holy Maiden Xia to do chores. So, it ended up being me leading here."

"Oh, then you all truly cannot defeat me... Since you are leading, I really don't want to fight. Let's make a deal, how about you step aside?"

Sun Hengchuan was practically angered into laughter, "How could I not know how much skill you possess? You think you can defeat me? What a joke..."

Before his words could finish, his eyes bulged.

Zhao Changhe held the four-foot-wide broadsword with a single hand, pointing it horizontally to the right.

A single man and a single blade completely blocked the entire path.

Paired with the wet blood on his body, his aura was like that of a dragon or a tiger, capturing the soul just by looking at him.

Sun Hengchuan was utterly stupefied. Is that a blade or a door panel? Can this weapon even be used with one hand?

"I've reached the Fourth Layer, not the Third Layer that the Chaos World Record reported a while back. My blade is nothing like you imagine either—its form has changed, and my sword path is an entirely different matter." Zhao Changhe said slowly, "Instructor, I hear you're also at the Fourth Layer. Not to boast, but so far, no opponent of the same realm has lasted three exchanges under my blade. I suggest you don't try."

Sun Hengchuan: "..."

Finally, a Blood God Cult disciple nearby grew impatient: "With you so exhausted you can barely catch your breath, completely spent, and still putting on airs—surrender now!"

As he spoke, a diagonal slash came at Zhao Changhe's left shoulder.

Zhao Changhe watched him charge coldly, and only when the blade was about to land did he suddenly move.

The disciple's wrist was instantly seized tightly, as if he had offered it up for capture. The next moment, the Dragon Sparrow howled in, stopping precisely at his neck, pressed against the skin without moving.

The Blood God Cult crowd fell utterly silent.

Such strength, such speed, such control.

The framework was still the Blood God Blade Technique, no mistake, but it was almost unrecognizable.

Sun Hengchuan's gaze grew very complex. No matter how many times the Chaos World Record updated, no matter how outlandish the rumors in the martial world, in his heart this was always the young man he had taught hand by hand—how could he be as exaggerated as others said? Deep down, he still thought he could capture the lad alive and then plead with the cult leader to spare him...

Only today did he realize—where was that impression now?

Zhao Changhe was already a battle-hardened rising star of the martial world, his long blade reaping heads like rain. The Hidden Dragon Ranking was never undeserved; among those of the same level, doing what others could not—that was what made a Hidden Dragon...

Sun Hengchuan felt a strange sense of a child growing up and beating his father, yet also felt a twisted pride—a profoundly mixed emotion.

Zhao Changhe released his blade and shoved the disciple back: "The Blood God Cult has no enmity with me; on the contrary, it took me in. My so-called grudge with the cult is solely against Fang Buping. Even if you, Instructor, weren't here, I wouldn't kill other Blood God Cult members. I, Zhao Changhe, say this—please convey it to Cult Leader Xue. Farewell."

His words faded, and he leaped over everyone's heads. The Dark Steed burst from the bamboo grove; Zhao Changhe turned and landed, settling perfectly on its back. In the blink of an eye, man and horse were gone, leaving only dust.

By Sword Lake's shore, Han Wubing's broken sword was entirely stained with blood.

Wounded, sword shattered, outnumbered, yet his blade had still slain many. The besieging enemies were shaken, but they knew they could not let such a man escape.

His sword was too fast; in single combat, almost no one could withstand a single exchange.

If they didn't surround and kill him now while he was exhausted, he would become everyone's nightmare.

"Clang!" A heavy blade struck. Han Wubing, utterly spent, could not dodge and had to parry with his sword.

The already broken sword snapped again, leaving only a dagger-length remnant...

"Han Wubing, you are indeed strong... but this is the end. Wait for the one you promised in the underworld." The swordsman sneered and swung again.

Hoofbeats drew near, a fine horse neighed like a dragon's roar.

The swordsman paused and turned to see a burly man charging into the fray, blade in hand, mounted.

Where his broadsword rose, foes' swords snapped and heads flew; armor was cleaved, blood gushed. The swordsman glanced at his own heavy blade and suddenly thought, Is this even a sword anymore?

The besiegers were in chaos: "Who comes! Why interfere!"

"I've braved wind, frost, rain, and snow, breaking through a thousand li for a single promise. Damn it, if you cut him down here, my whole month's work is for nothing! All of you, get lost!"

Han Wubing, drenched in blood and clutching his broken sword, looked at Zhao Changhe, equally blood-soaked on his horse, and his perpetually grim face suddenly broke into a smile.

Zhao Changhe turned back, his first words had to be: "Who the hell told you two thousand li counts as a thousand?"

Han Wubing pointed at him, laughing weakly: "You just said it yourself!"

Zhao Changhe: "Damn!"

Far away on a treetop, Xia Chichi stood quietly, robes fluttering, and smiled faintly: "Two fools."