Chapter 132: Duel

On the cobblestone street of the small town, people came and went, donkeys and horses jingled their bells, and peddlers' shoulder poles creaked under their loads.

Wu Shang and another thousand-house commander, Cheng Zhong, sat astride tall horses, leading the carriage forward while casting sidelong glances at every corner of the street.

Shops lined both sides of the street, their brass-plated pawnshop signs clanging in the wind under the half-sunny, half-cloudy sky, while crimson sparks occasionally spewed from the blacksmith's quenching fires, and merchants' cries echoed from near and far.

The town bordered the official road, frequented by passing merchants and travelers; Li Musheng's group entering the town drew no attention at all.

The carriage stopped at the largest inn in town, and after dismounting, a servant came forward to help lead the horses.

Commander Cheng Zhong and the coachman Cao Gaoshan followed the servant to stable the horses and carriage, while Hu Rui'an went to the innkeeper and ordered a window-side private seat on the second floor, along with a full table of wine and dishes.

Li Musheng, Hu Rui'an, and Lady Murong Xiaoya took their seats at the table in turn, while Wu Shang stood by silently.

Throughout this journey, the three sharing the carriage had spoken scarcely at all.

Miss Lady Murong Xiaoya seemed socially anxious, always huddled in a corner of the carriage, either sitting cross-legged in cultivation or dozing off—never speaking.

Vice Prefect Hu Rui'an spent most of his time with his eyes closed, resting; unless Li Musheng initiated conversation, he remained utterly silent.

As for Li Musheng, he knew Lady Murong Xiaoya might have some issues, but he had no interest in probing them.

At this moment, his thoughts were fixed on the cultivation technique he had received from the Old Dragon of Qinglong yesterday: "Qinglong Cangming Jing."

Because Li Musheng possessed supreme comprehension, all the Wu Gong he currently practiced were self-created through insight drawn from common, widespread cultivation techniques.

Thus, when practicing Qinglong Cangming Jing, he felt an itch he could not resist—unable to stop himself from deducing and modifying this divine technique coveted by many in the Wu Lin.

In his view, no matter how peerless a Martial Way Divine Technique might be, it always had flaws; only the techniques he deduced and understood himself could be called perfect.

After half a day of study on this journey, Li Musheng discovered that Qinglong Cangming Jing indeed had numerous defects and imperfections, and the entire chapter held great potential for revision and enhancement.

"Not bad—this journey has something to occupy me."

Li Musheng nodded inwardly; after all, he would still need to practice Qinglong Cangming Jing to absorb Qinglong True Qi.

Only a technique he himself had created and confirmed as safe would give him peace of mind.

Just as Li Musheng's thoughts were fixed on Qinglong Cangming Jing, a sudden, urgent bronze gong rang out across the once-bustling street.

Instantly, merchants and townsfolk on the cobblestone street panicked and stirred in chaos.

Passersby scattered in all directions; shopkeepers hastily packed up and shut their doors.

Before long, the once-bustling street became utterly empty and silent.

Only the blacksmith's furnace continued to emit faint sparks, and the shop banners fluttered in the wind, their hanging bronze bells tinkling softly.

Some guests on the second floor, noticing this odd scene, crowded to the windows, peering curiously downward, eager to understand what had happened.

Yet some clearly knew the truth—their faces turned solemn, they hurriedly warned onlookers and tried to shut and lock the inn's windows.

Seeing this, some guests grew displeased, so one of them explained:

"I heard this is an old rule of the town: whenever a Wu Lingaoshou from the Wu Lin arranges a duel, someone rings the bronze gong in advance to warn uninvolved people to leave, avoiding innocent harm."

"When experts clash, it's too dangerous—we're better off not seeing or hearing anything; if some master takes offense and drags us into it, we're in peril."

Hearing this, many, adhering to the principle of avoiding trouble, quickly shut their windows and returned to their seats.

But some still dismissed it, and for safety's sake, they half-closed their windows, peering through the cracks to secretly watch the cobblestone street below.

The table where Li Musheng and the others sat sat right beside a fully open window; Wu Shang, having overheard the surrounding chatter, frowned slightly and was about to seek Li Musheng's opinion.

But at that moment, a young figure slowly ascended the second floor.

He appeared about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, dressed in white robes, cradling a sword with a bronze scabbard across his chest.

His face was cold and stern; he glanced casually around, then walked straight toward Li Musheng's table—the only one with an open window.

"Don't close this window—I'm here to observe the rare duel of experts."

As he walked, he spoke casually to Hu Rui'an and the others.

His eyes were narrow; he gave the four at the table a quick appraisal, then sat down without hesitation in the empty seat beside the table.

Seeing this, Lady Murong Xiaoya, startled by the stranger's arrival, immediately lowered her head, picked up her teacup, and drank silently, appearing uneasy.

Hu Rui'an's slightly pudgy face wrinkled slightly; he glanced at the seated youth, but, thinking it better to avoid trouble, said nothing and merely sipped his tea.

As for Li Musheng, seated across the table, he raised an eyebrow, then turned to Wu Shang, who stood beside him:

"Stop watching—throw him out."

At these words, Wu Shang, who had already tacitly accepted Hu Rui'an's passive stance, froze in surprise.

Lady Murong Xiaoya, who had been sipping tea, looked up in shock and stole a glance at Li Musheng.

The white-robed youth, too, was stunned.

He had been satisfied with Hu Rui'an and Lady Murong Xiaoya's compliance, assuming this group were people who knew their place.

But he never expected this young man at the table—so young—to be so brazen as to speak such words.

The white-robed youth's gaze turned icy; he narrowed his eyes at Li Musheng and said:

"Young man, don't be reckless in the Wu Lin—I'm someone you can't afford to provoke…"

Yet before he finished speaking, Wu Shang moved—suddenly appearing beside the white-robed youth.

The next instant, he grabbed the youth's collar and, as if discarding trash, hurled him straight out through the open window.

Wu Shang moved too fast; his strike was even faster.

The white-robed youth had no time to react—he flew helplessly from the second floor of the inn, landing several zhang away.

He rolled several times across the cobblestone street before finally coming to a stop.

(End of Chapter)