Chapter 96: Sword Manual

The atmosphere was awkward, especially after Yuan Chong’s daughter Yuan Shanhu admitted it, and Chu Danqing didn’t know what to say.

In fact, when Yuan Chong asked, he had already prepared to strike if the man denied it.

But Yuan Shanhu had openly admitted it, saying she fancied Zhao Mingqian and planned to “get on the bus first, buy the ticket later.”

In that instant, Chu Danqing was stunned.

Action-oriented people are truly formidable.

Then Chu Danqing turned to Xiong Zhigang.

The situation had changed too fast; Chu Danqing had no idea how to handle it.

“As for this marriage matter, my master’s consent may be needed,” Zhao Mingqian spoke first.

“Then I’ll have Father send someone to Canluo Mountain to propose,” Yuan Shanhu said eagerly.

Yuan Chong thought for a moment, then nodded: “Fine. I’m acquainted with the Green Cloak Recluse; this won’t be a problem.”

“Huh? Isn’t that Zhao Xiao’s way of politely refusing?” Chu Danqing blurted out.

Zhao Mingqian certainly didn’t want his life’s fate decided so casually—otherwise why bring up the Green Cloak Recluse?

Chu Danqing’s thinking was different; when faced with such an easy opportunity, he didn’t think it was a gift from heaven.

He suspected that even if it happened, he’d be taking over someone else’s mess—likely ending up with a full-term son born seven months later.

“What? Is my daughter not good enough for you?” Yuan Chong glared at Chu Danqing, then turned to Zhao Mingqian.

Xiong Zhigang stepped in to defuse the tension: “Old Master Yuan, you’re joking. Marriage is a lifelong matter—how can it be settled so hastily?”

“Even with parental and matchmaker’s approval, time is still needed for discussion.”

He gave Yuan Chong a way out; once the old man’s expression softened, he added: “Very well, let’s go inside and talk.”

He led the way into a house, where Yuan Chong rummaged through a cabinet, pulled out a porcelain bottle, uncorked it, and waved it under Zhao Mingqian’s nose.

Zhao Mingqian’s strength gradually returned—it was clearly the antidote to the sedative smoke.

Even so, Zhao Mingqian remained deeply uneasy; Yuan Shanhu kept staring at him, her gaze practically weaving silk.

Chu Danqing quickly distanced himself from Yuan Shanhu—he’d encountered love-struck types before.

Fortunately, this time she wasn’t fixated on him—what a blessing.

As for Zhao Mingqian? Let the other guy handle it. As long as she wasn’t a psycho, the worst that could happen was Zhao Mingqian being embarrassed—he wouldn’t die.

“I’ve heard of you, Xiong Zhigang,” Yuan Chong sat down and looked at him. “Tonight’s incident was a misunderstanding.”

“It was my impulsive mistake.”

Xiong Zhigang replied: “No harm done. Your daughter dares to love and hate—this bandit spirit is admirable.”

Zhao Mingqian broke out in goosebumps and ducked behind Dabao.

Chu Danqing felt the situation was growing increasingly surreal.

“Shanhu, go tell Cuiniang to prepare some late-night snacks,” Yuan Chong, visibly embarrassed, tried to send his daughter away.

Yuan Shanhu reluctantly rose and left, finally easing Zhao Mingqian’s discomfort.

With Yuan Shanhu gone, Xiong Zhigang guided the conversation back to normal, and idle chatter resumed.

Yuan Chong was the lord of Yuan Family Manor; aside from occasional visits to major sects and bandit chiefs for duels, he spent all his time training at the manor.

His reputation was widespread but narrow—many knew his name but had never seen him.

He once challenged the Canluo Sect’s patriarch and lost, naturally, due to inferior skill.

“I pay little attention to court affairs,” Yuan Chong said after hearing of their journey to the capital. “But I’ve heard whispers about the peace negotiations.”

“I never imagined the court could be so vile.”

“Truly, incapable fools occupy high positions,” Yuan Chong snorted in disgust.

Chu Danqing nodded along: “Yeah, can’t even sit straight.”

Then he shifted tone: “By the way, hasn’t that late-night meal been cooking for half an hour already?”

“Are they preparing eighteen dishes? Why isn’t it ready yet?”

Chu Danqing noticed a blind spot: even with their group size, an hour without any movement was suspicious.

Yuan Chong now realized it too—she’d been gone too long.

“Could something have happened?” Zhao Mingqian whispered.

No sooner had he spoken than Yuan Chong shot up and rushed toward the kitchen.

Everyone followed.

When they arrived, the stove fire was out, and a woman lay unconscious on the floor.

She’d clearly been subdued in an instant.

Yuan Chong, the first to arrive, held a hastily scribbled letter, his brow furrowed.

Clearly, its contents unsettled him.

“Old Master Yuan, what’s happened?” Xiong Zhigang asked urgently.

“Who among you knows the Heavenly Wolf Sword Art?” Yuan Chong, puzzled, handed the letter to Xiong Zhigang.

It read: At noon tomorrow, bring the Heavenly Wolf Sword Art manual to Songshan Cliff to exchange for Yuan Shanhu.

The letter was signed by Jin Baiyan.

“I’ve studied Canluo Sect sword techniques—I know no Heavenly Wolf Sword Art,” Zhao Mingqian shook his head.

“Don’t look at me—I can’t even sheathe a sword properly,” Chu Danqing said bluntly.

“I can handle knives and spears, but swords are useless on the battlefield—I don’t know any,” Xiong Zhigang admitted.

Chu Danqing scanned the group, then said: “Ask the unconscious woman—try waking her. She might know something.”

“Clearly, they fear your strength—otherwise they wouldn’t just kidnap and threaten; they wouldn’t even dare search.”

From the scene, it was clear: their target was precise, their actions decisive.

But their strength was inferior.

So why wait until tomorrow? Why not take her now?

Yuan Chong, hearing Chu Danqing’s words, agreed—they made sense. He grabbed Cuiniang, who lay unconscious, and poured his internal Qi into her to revive her quickly.

After about two minutes, Cuiniang slowly opened her eyes.

“Master, what happened to me?” Cuiniang looked dazed.

“What’s this Heavenly Wolf Sword Art?” Yuan Chong immediately tested her.

At the four words, Cuiniang’s face instantly twisted with panic.

“I—I, Master, please let me explain,” she stammered.

Anyone could see now: the Heavenly Wolf Sword Art was connected to her.

“Speak. I’m listening,” Yuan Chong remained calm—he’d lived too long to rush into panic.

Cuiniang opened her mouth to speak, then glanced at Chu Danqing and the others, and fell silent.

“No need to hold back—they’re all friends. Just speak,” Yuan Chong didn’t care about discretion.

“Alright,” Cuiniang said, then began: “A month ago, I from—”

(End of Chapter)