Chapter 111: Board the Train Before Buying the Ticket

Qinghe City, a grand mansion.

The plaque above the gate had not yet been hung.

The Zhang family’s holdings spanned half of Anning Prefecture; Qinghe was no exception.

Neighbors around the mansion knew it had been bought, but none knew it was the famed Zhang family.

A luxurious carriage halted before the mansion.

The driver called out:

“Master Zhang, we’ve arrived.”

He pulled back the curtain.

Zhang Hao stepped down from the carriage, reeking of alcohol.

“Wei Ming, a formidable man.”

He had rushed to Qinghe specifically for tonight’s hard-won drinking party.

He had already met Wei Ming earlier.

That captain of the Annan Army was a straightforward fellow; they’d already sworn brotherhood.

This was a good start.

As Zhang Hao stepped down, he saw the steward pacing anxiously in front of the gate.

“Hm?”

Zhang Hao’s brow furrowed slightly.

He had ordered the steward to stay put until the carriage was repaired, then meet him in Qinghe.

Now, the steward looked deeply troubled.

“Could the goods have been stolen?”

Thinking this, Zhang Hao strode forward with a cold snort: “What happened?”

The steward, seeing it was Second Master Zhang, hurried forward: “Second Master.”

He stammered, hesitant.

Zhang Hao grew more irritated and barked: “Speak!”

The steward’s legs buckled; he nearly collapsed to his knees, face twisted in distress:

“It’s… Third Young Master.”

“Third Young Master took men into the forest to hunt, but he hasn’t returned after a night.”

“He’s probably… probably in trouble.”

Zhang Hao’s brow relaxed: “The goods aren’t lost?”

The steward froze, then nodded frantically as if grasping a lifeline: “No, not lost.”

Zhang Hao nodded: “Good. If the man’s missing, send people to find him.”

“You’re trembling over such a small thing? Shameful!”

“Enough. I’m going to rest.”

With that, he stepped past the steward and marched into the mansion.

The steward’s expression turned complex.

“Second Master truly is heartless.”

In wealthy households, father-son bonds are usually just surface-deep filial piety.

Zhang Hao of the Zhang family was worse than most.

He treated his seven sons with cruelty—frequent beatings, almost no care.

He called it “raising wolves.”

Zhang Hao had the nickname “Evil Wolf” in the martial world, and he loved it—he saw it as recognition of his strength.

He was the Evil Wolf; his sons were naturally wolf cubs.

Zhang Hao never cared about infighting among his sons.

He cared only whether one could emerge as the Wolf King.

If a son couldn’t become the Wolf King, he wasn’t worthy to be his son; if not his son, he wasn’t worth worrying over—Zhang He’s safety mattered less than a cart of goods.

Qinghe Branch.

Li residence.

A candle flickered to life.

Li Rui climbed over the wall, tossed his bloodstained clothes into the brazier; flames rose and swiftly consumed them, turning them to ash.

“They were Zhang family men.”

While disposing of the bodies, he took everything they carried.

Among them was a Zhang family waist token.

Only then did he learn these men were Zhang family servants, and the arrogant youth was the second master’s son.

“According to Zhang Yang, the Zhang family has been active in Qinghe lately.”

“Looks like they want a share of Qinghe too.”

That’s normal.

Not just the Zhang family.

Soon, Qinghe will host an alliance, two gangs, three families—and even forces from Anning Prefecture will arrive, just slower than these.

“Qinghe is growing more lively.” What does “hidden dragons and crouching tigers” mean?

Qinghe will soon prove it.

As for the Zhang family seeking revenge?

Li Rui wasn’t worried.

The mountains were hundreds of li uninhabited; he acted carefully. By tomorrow night, the corpses would be devoured by wolves—even the best constables would be helpless.

The Zhang family would need fortune-telling powers to find him.

Otherwise, they’d never locate him.

Fortune-telling?

Li Rui had considered this too: true seers who could divine fate existed, but no such person could be afforded by a minor clan like the Zhangs.

So he was safe.

=9+ Shu _ Ba

The Zhang family’s men were as good as dead.

Li Rui didn’t delay. Staying overnight wasn’t safe.

He still had plenty of the herbs from Han Qin’s formula—enough to use.

He had no foolish villain’s habit of hoarding treasures waiting for others to come knocking.

That night,

he ground the spirit soil, and to avoid exploding from excessive potency, he took it in batches.

Only after confirming he could endure the next dose did he take more.

Once, twice, three times…

By the time he finished consuming all the spirit soil, it was noon the next day.

Li Rui hadn’t slept all night.

But his energy was high.

He was now at Jade Bone stage, one step from Willow Sinew—according to martial novels, this was called “half-step Willow Sinew peak.”

Moreover, he had prematurely awakened true qi and was already attempting to condense it into form.

These were feats only experts of the Seventh Rank Willow Sinew realm could achieve.

Condensing qi into form was something only those with deep Willow Sinew accumulation might manage.

Li Rui was now “boarding the train before buying the ticket.”

What he lacked for Willow Sinew was only blood and qi accumulation—in other words, not enough training time, not enough herbs consumed.

Others had ample blood and qi but struggled to refine it; he had the opposite problem.

Perhaps this was the burden of a genius?

Having finished everything, he opened his door with a light heart.

Yang Yong and Wang Zhao were both standing outside.

Seeing Li Rui finally emerge, Yang Yong smiled: “Old Li, you’re past your prime—cut down on late nights.”

He and Wang Zhao had seen Li Rui’s lamp burning all night.

Usually,

Li Rui rose at Chen Hour, trained in the courtyard—they were used to it—but today, his door had remained shut without precedent.

He hadn’t even trained.

This alarmed Yang Yong and Wang Zhao—they feared Li Rui had died in his sleep.

Wang Zhao nearly broke the door down several times.

Yang Yong finally stopped him.

Old Li was a cultivator now; he’d heard such cases often meant a critical breakthrough—bursting in could cause qi deviation.

Wang Zhao, bewildered by Yang Yong’s mystical explanation, reluctantly waited.

So the two of them kept pacing back and forth in front of Li Rui’s door.

Finally.

Li Rui pushed open the door.

After listening to Yang Yong’s detailed account of their inner struggles, he smiled faintly.

Those were just plot devices invented by storytellers for dramatic effect.

Warriors possess strength exceeding a thousand jin, their blood and qi rivaling the Ox and the Dipper, terrifyingly fierce.

How could they suffer qi deviation from a simple fright?

Unless it was a surprise attack—that might be possible.

Li Rui shook his head, patted both their shoulders to reassure them, then strode out of the residence.

“You’ve eaten too much spiritual soil; you need some herbs to settle your stomach.”

With that thought, he got to work.

He told Yang Yong and Wang Zhao he was going out for a walk.

Then he stepped out of the courtyard and headed toward the black market.

(End of Chapter)