Chapter 451: Drawing the Waters of Disaster Eastward

"Senior, you want to kill me?"

Chen Guanlou hid behind the water curtain, his figure flickering in and out of view, but his voice came through clearly.

"Commanding heaven and earth as blades—what a formidable sword art. Chen Guanlou, why not show yourself and fight me properly?"

"Isn't that exactly what's happening now? Do you think you can't fight unless you have an iron blade?" With that, Chen Guanlou let out a soft laugh. The laughter, carried by the water curtain, surged skyward and struck toward his opponent.

"Excellent! I haven't faced a warrior with your courage in a long time. You command heaven and earth as blades—perfect. Let me test my sword art on you."

Sword, come!

One sword cleaves heaven and earth!

Chen Guanlou: …

Run!

He could endure it, but he didn't want to die.

Death wasn't certain, but his secrets would be exposed—that was the real danger.

He always took things lightly: if he couldn't win, he ran; if he could, he fought to the death.

He was excellent at escaping; in a blink, he was already a hundred meters away.

"Think you can run? Naive!"

"Senior, you're chasing me so relentlessly—do you truly have feelings for me?"

"Smooth-tongued brat!"

"With your high cultivation, you're harassing a mere nobody—don't you feel it's dishonorable? Bullying the weak, avoiding the strong—what a fine example you set. If you're so capable, why not challenge one of the Masters inside the palace? If you can survive even one move from a Master, I'll bow to you as a true man."

"The last man who used flattery on me had grass taller than a man growing over his grave. Chen Guanlou, die!"

"I never expected someone of your cultivation would serve Jiang Tu. Tsk tsk… No matter how strong your martial arts, you still bow before power. Senior, doesn't it hurt your spine to lower your head so low?"

"Who is Jiang Tu? Don't slander me. I kill you because I find you intolerable. So young, and already slick and insolent."

Chen Guanlou burst into loud, utterly carefree laughter. "Your cultivation is mediocre, yet your mouth is huge. I wonder—when you meet a Master, will your mouth still be this big?"

Chen Guanlou headed straight for the city's outskirts.

Who was out there?

Out there was Master Zhou Mobai.

Zhou Mobai owned an estate beyond the city, with hot springs inside. Chen Guanlou had already confirmed: every winter, Zhou Mobai resided in that estate.

His pursuer chased relentlessly, determined to kill him. Whether he was tied to Jiang Tu or not didn't matter—since he couldn't win, he'd divert the flood eastward.

What if Zhou Mobai was in league with him?

Chen Guanlou considered this possibility, but right now, he had no better option—he could only gamble. Gamble on his luck.

His luck had generally been good: time and again, he'd turned misfortune into fortune, reversed despair into hope. He hoped this time would be the same. If all else failed, he'd fake his death and flee the capital. Return only after the storm passed.

He owed thanks to the flower-picking thief who'd taught him his escape technique—combined with the Ascension Scripture, it was truly swift. No matter how fast his pursuer moved, he could only trail behind. Catch him? Ha…

That night, the capital was quiet—and yet, chaotic.

The Embroidered Uniform Guards watched two figures flash across the sky—then vanish. By the time they chased to the city's edge, they'd lost all trace.

The Embroidered Uniform Guards had failed. Now they wandered aimlessly outside the city; if they happened to find them, it would be a great achievement.

The Hou Fu was peaceful, but its hidden forces were not. Dark tides churned; hearts were unsettled.

Chen Guanlou plunged into the hot spring pool.

Commanding water as blades, he roared—crashing straight through the estate's roof.

Swordlight flashed, rushing toward him, brimming with lethal intent.

Chen Guanlou smirked and dashed toward the back mountain.

"Little thief, don't think you can escape!"

Boom!

Like thunder exploding.

Zhou Mobai was finally roused.

"I haven't seen such an arrogant martial artist in ages. Daring to disturb my cultivation—seek death!"

The warrior chasing Chen Guanlou took the brunt of Zhou Mobai's attack. He had to turn back to defend himself—no longer had the strength to pursue Chen Guanlou.

Chen Guanlou had won his gamble and slipped away, hiding inside the Hou Fu's mountain estate.

He wasn't injured—at least, no visible wounds. But his internal Qi churned violently, unstable. He found an empty room, set up a sealing array, and began meditating.

He meditated for two days.

He ate lightly, revealed his identity to the estate's overseer, and ordered him to send a messenger to the Hou Fu—he wished to meet the Chief Steward.

The overseer stared at the unmistakable Chen family facial features, then checked his identity token. "You're truly a Chen?"

"Chen Guanlou, no doubt about it. What's happening in the capital lately?"

"I don't know. This estate is remote, mainly supplying the Hou Fu with mountain goods. Few come here. News from the capital usually arrives once every one or two months."

"Has Jiang Tu's people come here causing trouble?"

"This place is too remote—they'd never come. You finding it at all is astonishing."

"I know some of the Hou Fu's official holdings. Send someone into the city—I have silver."

"But even if I reach the city, I'm lowly and powerless. I won't even get inside the Hou Fu, let alone meet the Chief Steward."

"I'll give you a personal note. Go to the gatekeeper, Chen Guanxiang. Say I sent you—he'll take you to the Chief Steward."

"You know Chen Guanxiang? So you weren't lying—you really are a Chen, really named Chen Guanlou."

Chen Guanlou laughed bitterly. "So you doubted my identity until I mentioned Chen Guanxiang?"

"Many know the Hou Fu's gatekeeper, but few know his name. You named him precisely—you must be a Chen."

No outsider would bother learning a gatekeeper's name.

Combined with his unmistakable Chen family features, the overseer finally relaxed. He arranged everything, and with daylight still ahead, loaded the accumulated mountain goods onto a cart and headed for the capital.

Chen Guanlou, bored, wandered the estate.

The estate was small, with few people—only a dozen hunters.

Compared to ordinary farmland estates, it was a tiny sparrow with all vital organs intact.

Mountains stretched endlessly around, no farmland. All mountains within ten li belonged to the Hou Fu; everything harvested there was their property.

The estate managed medicinal herbs, mountain goods, timber, charcoal, and more.

The hunters said summer was bustling—many workers came. Now, in winter, only wild beasts remained, and people dwindled.

The hunters hunted, preserved game, and processed pelts.

After chatting with them, Chen Guanlou learned that eighty percent of the pelts used in the Hou Fu's fur robes came from this estate; the remaining twenty percent came from the southern estate.

The Hou Fu owned many holdings in the south, but most of their output was sold—not used to supply the Hou Fu's needs.