Chapter 100: What Is Heartlessness

Chapter 100: What Does It Mean to Be Fickle

Tang Wanzhuang let her subordinates give chase, playing her role to the fullest, but her gaze had already shifted to another direction—a distant hill by the lake, opposite the one where she stood.

Elder You and the others had no idea where Zhao Changhe was, but her senses were far sharper, and she had already spotted him.

Zhao Changhe and Han Wubing stood on that hill, watching the chaotic farce below. Seeming to sense that Tang Wanzhuang truly had no intention of harming Xia Chichi, Zhao Changhe let out a breath and glanced at Han Wubing with a rather odd expression.

Han Wubing withdrew his gaze and looked back at him.

It seemed the external matters were over. Now it was time for their own.

Both fools felt a strange unease. By all rights, today was the day of their agreed duel, yet after all the twists and turns—mutual rescue, mutual admiration—now that the sword was in hand and everything was ready, neither had any will to fight.

If they really fought, it would be no different from the sparring match with Yue Hongling back then. What meaning would it hold?

“Are we fighting or not?” Zhao Changhe asked.

“…A duel I agreed to, I must see through to the end,” Han Wubing replied.

Zhao Changhe bared his teeth. “Do you know I’ve wanted to beat you for a long time?”

“…I know. At least twice you wanted to cut me—once in your room, and just now.”

Zhao Changhe drew his blade. “Then let me slash you a couple of times, and we’ll call it even.”

Han Wubing drew his sword. “Do you not realize that with all your antics, anyone watching would want to cut you down?”

Good. The fighting spirit was rising.

Blade and sword clashed, ready to erupt.

From afar, Tang Wanzhuang shook her head gently. “He’s still just a big child… Alright, let’s go back.”

Her maidservant asked curiously, “Miss, won’t you watch the outcome? Han Wubing’s cultivation is still higher than Zhao Changhe’s. What if he gets hurt by accident…”

“He won’t be seriously hurt, at most some superficial wounds. He deserves it.”

“If Zhao Changhe wins, will the Chaos Chronicle flash?”

“It won’t flash either. If this counts as a battle… then Zhao Changhe and Xia Chichi might have a far more intense battle later, perhaps even tonight. Would the Chaos Chronicle flash then?”

The maidservant’s eyes went blank for a moment, then she suddenly caught on and stammered, “Miss, you, you, you…”

Tang Wanzhuang pressed her forehead in thought. “His relationship with that demon cult enchantress is highly improper. In principle, I should find a way to break it up… But given his sense of loyalty, if I force a rift, it will surely create a divide. This is truly a difficult matter…”

The maidservant glanced at her, lips parted as if to speak, but she held back.

Forcing a rift would indeed create distance, but there was another way to break it up—like snatching him for yourself. That would not only avoid a rift but also bring you closer than ever. Miss, with all your schemes, had that never crossed your mind?

Of course, Tang Wanzhuang had never considered it. Who would think of throwing themselves into such a mess? Besides, it was precisely because Zhao Changhe didn’t want an arranged marriage that she hoped he would become a prince.

In the end, her strategy remained the simplest, crudest, and most high-sounding: “Launch a full-scale search and capture all heretics from the Four Symbols Sect and the Maitreya Sect. Restore peace and clarity to Sword Lake City!”

First, drive Xia Chichi away. At least today, they wouldn’t be able to set the prairie ablaze. She could figure out how to handle the rest later.

The sun set in the west.

In the city, the authorities hunted down demon cultists. Outside the city, two big children fought.

They battled for over an hour, until both were utterly exhausted and stopped, lying on the hill, watching the sunset glow, too tired to speak.

The Chaos Chronicle indeed did not flash.

A vigorous sparring match—for Zhao Changhe, it was far more refreshing than being tangled up in identities and emotions. The ancient Sword Lake, as he had originally envisioned, should not have been sullied by all these trivial, messy affairs. A journey of a thousand miles, a duel of blade and sword, a hearty battle—how wonderful that would have been. Now the mood was half ruined. What a pity.

At this moment, he could truly understand why Cui Yuanyong and Yue Hongling had come to admire each other after their duel. When you swung your blade with unstoppable force, only to have it deftly deflected by your opponent, admiration genuinely arose in your heart.

And so he knew how to handle the next encounter more perfectly. Strength grew through trial after trial.

“Xiao Han…” Zhao Changhe suddenly said. “You held back a killing move just now, didn’t you? I felt a moment of scalp-tingling intent.”

“Indeed,” Han Wubing said, staring at the sky. “I went easy on you. The outcome was already decided.”

“Pfft!” Zhao Changhe wanted to save face, but he knew that if he had deliberately suppressed the power of the Dragon Sparrow and not relied on the divine blade’s might, he would likely have lost. So he didn’t stubbornly insist and asked, “You had a killing move. Why didn’t you use it when you were in danger before?”

“Because I realized that move while you were kissing a woman, and I was in the sword chamber.”

Zhao Changhe: “…Women really do slow down your training.”

Han Wubing said, “If you need it, just go to a brothel and be done with it. A martial artist’s heart shouldn’t be dragged down by such things.”

“What if someone likes you?”

“As long as you clearly refuse, there’s no fickleness. I have no interest in it anyway. Why waste someone’s life?” Han Wubing said. “A hero like you shouldn’t be entangled in matters of men and women. It always feels awkward.”

“Then the rivers and lakes in our hearts are still different.”

“Oh?” Han Wubing said. “To comprehend the sword in one’s heart, to rid the world of injustice—isn’t that it? I thought you were about the same…”

Zhao Changhe pulled out his gourd of wine, uncorked it, and took a satisfying gulp. “What I dream of is roaming the rivers and lakes with a sword, wine in hand, and a slender waist in my palm. The first half has come true, even if I use a blade… The second half, I feel it doesn’t suit me at all. I can’t seem to handle it with such ease. It always feels awkward.”

Han Wubing thought for a moment and chuckled. “Though it doesn’t quite fit your temperament, I feel you’re already on that path. But I advise you—this sounds like the words of a fickle man. If you keep going like this, Xia Chichi’s sword at her waist will one day take your head.”

Zhao Changhe suddenly remembered the second half of the original poem.

“Ten years in Yangzhou, a dream of pleasure, won only a fickle name in the pleasure quarters.”

Brother Xiao Han was sharp…

But then again, the one who was fickle in the pleasure quarters was actually you. I have no taste for such things.

So how does one define a fickle man?

Han Wubing suddenly said, “The joy is spent. The time for our parting has come. From now on, there will be no one around to disturb you while you’re kissing women.”

Zhao Changhe asked, “Where are you going?”

Han Wubing said, “Back to the bottom of the lake.”

Zhao Changhe: “?”

“That is a swordsman’s domain. I intend to comprehend the sword there.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know the days. I can sneak back into the city to buy supplies when needed. Living won’t be a problem.”

Zhao Changhe clicked his tongue. That was very swordsman-like. But he himself probably couldn’t endure even a single day of such a life.

“Then farewell.” Zhao Changhe stood up and punched Han Wubing’s shoulder. “You might be my first friend in the rivers and lakes.”

Han Wubing smiled but didn’t reply. If he didn’t count his deceased friends, Zhao Changhe was indeed his only friend in the martial world.

Zhao Changhe didn’t linger. He shouldered the Dragon Sparrow and strode away. “I’m off. Hope next time we meet, you’ve emerged from the abyss.”

Han Wubing watched his retreating figure, thinking that this guy actually had some culture.

He wondered if those words referred to emerging from the lake bottom or to a hidden dragon soaring from the depths.

In truth, they both still had many things left undone. Han Wubing still had matters concerning the Sword Hut, which, unknown to others, carried significant background connections, even ties to the previous era. As for Zhao Changhe, he seemed like a convergence of storms—nothing around him was trivial, whether it was the Cui family, the Four Symbols Sect, or the Demon Suppression Bureau.

But as each other’s only friend, neither had said, “Do you need my help?” They hadn’t even asked about each other’s situations, because they both felt these were things they had to face alone.

When you overcame them, you would emerge from the abyss.

Han Wubing had a strong premonition that the next time they met, if neither was dead, they would shake the world.

Back in Sword Lake City, Zhao Changhe hadn't even made it out of one street before the familiar brothel madam grabbed him: "Oh my, young master, have you forgotten someone?"

Under the strange gazes from the streets and alleys, Zhao Changhe pinched his head and slipped around to the back door.

The bamboo grove was still serene and secluded, with no sound of zither music drifting.

Zhao Changhe stepped onto the bamboo tower with practiced ease. Tang Wanzhuang, draped in a robe, was bent over a desk writing something, occasionally coughing lightly twice. There was no trace of the extraordinary power that had stopped the Maitreya Sect Leader earlier; she only seemed frail and weary.

Zhao Changhe inexplicably thought of Chancellor Zhuge... Although Tang Wanzhuang's importance to the empire certainly couldn't compare to Zhuge's, the impression was somewhat similar.

Zhao Changhe stood at the door watching for a while, then finally broke the silence: "How can you be so unconcerned about your reputation, not even minding being associated with a brothel?"

Tang Wanzhuang didn't look up: "Outsiders don't know; those who know naturally won't make baseless associations. The brothel is just a place to hide from prying eyes. As long as it's useful, that's fine."

"How is it useful? Anything else would be better than this, wouldn't it?"

"Because a brothel welcomes all comers and sends them off—lots of information, very convenient."

"So you read the Spring and Autumn Annals too?"

Tang Wanzhuang finally stopped writing: "What are you standing there for? Come in and talk."

"I came to report back, then I'll leave." Zhao Changhe said: "Although the sword was still taken by Xia Chichi, the divine sword rampage and harm to people that you worried about didn't happen. Does that count as completing the task? If so, I'll be off."

"Do you think this one task can directly offset the cultivation technique and the Sparrowhawk?"

"I know it's not a one-off deal; there will be more later. But it's not like you'll keep assigning me tasks forever, right? Honestly, if you really make me work 996, I won't do it."

Tang Wanzhuang didn't know what 996 meant, and couldn't be bothered to ask. She just said: "The second task is very simple. You can complete it right now, as long as you nod."

Zhao Changhe asked in surprise: "What task?"

"Stay in the brothel tonight, pick any girl, sleep until dawn, and the task is done."

Zhao Changhe immediately knew what she was thinking, and was annoyed: "Don't make me talk dirty to you again."

Tang Wanzhuang stared at him steadily; she also knew what it would be if this guy started talking dirty at this moment.

"Forget it." Zhao Changhe turned to leave: "Seeing you bent over your desk working so hard, any normal person would have some respect. I won't say anything harsh. But my romantic affairs—I don't want anyone meddling, not even if my own father showed up."