Chapter 141

140. Chapter 140: The Invitation

As Li Yi and Rongniang had guessed, Zhao Ge’s actions proceeded smoothly: the moment this Qi-Channeling expert appeared, the Weiwu Guild allied with him, the Three Fleets submitted, willingly handing over all Zhao Shiwu Academy disciples, and even offered ten Blood-Refining martial artists to aid Zhao Ge’s cause, pledging that from then on, San Yang City would look to Zhao Shiwu Academy as its leader.

Before the matter was even settled, others began to defect.

But Zhao Ge had already guessed: Li Yi must have succeeded in seizing the academy, killed Han Tianbao, and taken control of the second martial arts school.

Since the Three Fleets were willing to defect and cooperatively handed over the disciples, and since the imprisoned students had suffered little abuse, Zhao Ge accepted their goodwill—he knew that if he were to dominate alone, he could not alienate every faction; he must win over some, suppress others, and eliminate the rest.

Yet while he accepted their submission, he set his own terms: “I claim the grain transport and medicine trade. If you Three Fleets truly wish to serve, secure these two industries for Zhao Shiwu Academy. When it’s done, your positions in San Yang City remain unchanged.”

The three Fleet Masters now wore troubled expressions.

“Since you refuse to show loyalty, then from now on, each side will fend for itself.” Zhao Ge snorted, turning to lead his disciples away.

Zhang Tiefeng, Master of the Weaponry Fleet, hurriedly said: “Master Zhao, it’s not that we refuse—we know well that the Three Fleets aren’t martial arts academies; we maintain only so many Blood-Refining fighters. If we take over grain transport and medicine trade, we’d exhaust ourselves and end up mutually destroyed—how would we ever sustain our businesses?”

Zhao Ge replied coldly: “What’s to fear? If you truly lose all your men, Zhao Shiwu Academy will guarantee your safety. I know you’re closely tied to grain transport and medicine trade, but times have changed—Han and Jin’s academies are gone. From now on, only Zhao Shiwu Academy will rule San Yang City.”

“If you refuse to act now, don’t blame me later when I seize your businesses.”

His words were both threat and pressure, meant to ensure the Three Fleets stood firmly with him—not as fence-sitters—and with Meng De’s sudden emergence, he believed none of them could stir up trouble.

“Master Zhao, don’t be so quick to anger. Can’t we sit and talk calmly? Don’t you feel our sincerity? It’s not that we refuse to help—we simply lack manpower. But if Master Zhao himself would accompany us, we’d be willing to risk everything to aid you.”

At this moment, Hua Sanjie, Master of the Flower Fleet, spoke. She was a beautiful woman in her thirties, dressed in palace attire, her figure plump and alluring, her fox-like eyes hypnotic—clearly a woman who drained men dry. In her youth, she had bewitched countless young martial artists of San Yang City; even now, many still longed for her.

But don’t mistake Hua Sanjie for merely beautiful and seductive—she was also a peak Blood-Refining cultivator, on the verge of entering Qi-Channeling.

To reach such a level as a woman was no simple feat.

Zhao Ge frowned, paused, then said: “Very well. I’ll accompany you. After all, grain transport and medicine trade have shed Zhao Shiwu disciples’ blood—my presence to avenge them is only natural. But you Three Fleets must provide at least thirty Blood-Refining fighters. One less, and you bear the consequences.”

“Naturally.”

Hua Sanjie exhaled slightly, then lifted her small round fan to cover half her face, smiling again.

With Zhao Ge, a Qi-Channeling expert, leading them, their losses would be greatly reduced—and most importantly, the blame would never fall on them.

The Three Fleets had no wish to be drawn into academy feuds; they only took sides when forced by circumstance.

For example, last time Zhao Shiwu Academy was besieged, though they lent aid, they held back—captured disciples were not abused or killed, only imprisoned.

After all, Zhao Ge wasn’t dead—who knew when he might return for revenge?

Hence, leaving a margin was their survival strategy: they never fully alienated Zhao Shiwu Academy, nor did they utterly destroy the Liu family of grain transport or the Sun family of medicine trade.

Fortune turns—now Zhao Shiwu Academy rises, blazing bright. Who can say if tomorrow it won’t collapse and scatter like monkeys fleeing a fallen tree?

“Then move at once. Each Fleet Master, bring your men with me to grain transport and medicine trade. After rescuing my disciples, we’ll slaughter without mercy.” Zhao Ge now revealed the cold brutality typical of martial artists in this world.

Once powerful, one shows no mercy.

In fistfighting, yes—but in business, too.

“Naturally.”

Hua Sanjie smiled sweetly: “But after it’s done, could Master Zhao kindly introduce me to your senior disciple? I’m curious—what manner of man could seize two academies in a single day and plunge San Yang City into bloodshed?”

Before Zhao Ge could speak, Zhao Qian snapped: “What do you want with Brother Yi? He has no ties to you. Don’t go stirring trouble.”

Hua Sanjie didn’t flinch, only grinned: “Why so tense, Miss Zhao? Afraid I’ll steal your Brother Yi’s soul? Don’t worry—I merely admire such a man and wish to meet him. No other intent.”

Zhao Qian’s expression flickered, as if her thoughts had been exposed; she could not reply.

Zhao Ge mounted his horse: “Master Hua, you may meet my senior disciple after this matter is settled. When I rebuild the academy, I’ll host a grand banquet. If you attend, you’ll meet Meng De. Now, please accompany me—don’t delay, or I’ll suspect you’re stalling to give the other two factions time.”

“We dare not. Master Zhao, please lead on—we’ll follow immediately,” said Zhang Tiefeng, bowing.

Zhao Ge glanced once, said nothing, and rode off with Shouhou and Zhao Qian, unafraid the Three Fleets would betray him—they had no Qi-Channeling masters, and though they once courted favor with the academy and the Prefect, now they were barely holding on themselves; no one would defend them.

This was the terrifying power of Li Yi’s intrusion: once-complicated alliances collapsed instantly, making way for him.

“Giddyap!”

As the sound of hooves echoed, the Three Fleet Masters respectfully watched Zhao Ge and his party depart.

Some truths Zhao Ge didn’t need to state—the Fleet Masters saw them clearly.

From now on, the true ruler of San Yang City would be the unseen senior disciple of Zhao Shiwu Academy: Li Yi.

“What kind of figure has Zhao Shiwu Academy produced? In a single day, he overturned the entire city—killed two Qi-Channeling experts, dozens of Blood-Refining martial artists. Now he’s probably heading to confront the Prefect. Will he kill him too? Killing the Prefect is outright rebellion—grave consequences.” Zhang Tiefeng couldn’t help muttering.

“Who knows? I’ve met countless men, but never one so lawless,” Hua Sanjie smiled, yet her curiosity about him deepened.

Meanwhile, as their actions continued:

At this moment:

Li Yi and Rongniang rode through the streets.

Somehow, the Eight-Treasure Deer had emerged from an alley, lowering its head obediently to follow behind Li Yi’s steed.

“You’re clever—run off during fights, then sneak out once it’s over. With so many martial artists roaming the city, how did you avoid being caught?” Li Yi laughed.

The Eight-Treasure Deer gave no reply, merely chewing on something like dried grass, slowly swallowing.

Rongniang saw clearly: “It’s foraging—must’ve sneaked into some academy’s herb store and gorged itself. Look, it’s still chewing a giant ginseng root. While you’re exhausted up front, it’s enjoying itself.”

Seeing such waste of fine herbs, she couldn’t help feeling regretful.

Li Yi chuckled: “At least it knows to avoid danger. Good. I won’t worry about it starving—I have no time to care for it.”

Hearing the praise, the Eight-Treasure Deer lifted its head, walking more lightly.

Rongniang said: “Don’t spoil it. If it only eats and never works, even the largest fortune will be squandered. We must find a way to make it earn its keep.”

As they spoke:

They arrived before a grand, imposing mansion.

This was the Prefect’s residence.

Yet the moment they appeared, the mansion’s gates swung open—on either side stood rows of beautiful young maids, holding flowers, fine wine, parasols, and playing melodious music—as if all this were prepared to welcome Li Yi.

Clearly:

The Prefect’s residence had learned of Li Yi’s twin academy seizures and had made preparations.

“What’s this? Courtesy before force? Or a Hongmen Banquet?”

Li Yi reined in his horse, squinting, his glowing eyes peering inside.

Alas, the view was blocked by a screen wall—he could not see within.

But now, an old hunchbacked servant emerged from the mansion, hurried forward, and bowed deeply: “The Prefect commands: Zhao Shiwu Academy’s senior disciple, Li Yi, is invited inside to discuss matters of San Yang City.”

Li Yi studied the old servant.

Others saw nothing—but under his spiritual sense, he discerned clearly.

This was a Qi-Channeling expert.

And stronger than Jin Zhihuan, the Listening Wind Blade.