Chapter 23: Cold Weapons

By the time the car stopped at the hotel, the interior was completely empty — not a single bullet remained. Cao Chuan went back to his room, booked his plane ticket, packed his things, and by ten at night, the passenger jet departing from Bangkok had already touched down at Xiaoshan International Airport.

Back in his own place in the Cuiyuan District, Cao Chuan sat on the floor, pulled a Type 9 pistol from the case in front of him and looked it over, nodding with satisfaction. This trip had gone fairly smoothly — he'd gotten the goods and even uncovered a supply channel. After sighing that money really did make things easier, he yawned and climbed into bed; rushing to catch a flight was simply too exhausting.

The next morning, he crawled out of bed and first contacted Li Douzhan. Learning that the antique shop's ownership transfer was still being processed and that they were currently handling the decoration and business permits, he decided not to bother them.

He booted up his computer and began searching for information on cold weapons. In his design, he was only responsible for standing in the back and firing; charging into battle would naturally be the duty of other brave men. Considering that too many deaths would also fail to build up his, Cao Zhenren's, prestige, he intended to buy some weapons and armor to boost the martial strength of the stronghold crew.

After jotting down all the information he found online, he went out to grab a bite, stopped by the dry cleaning shop to pick up his clothes, then drove straight to a craft factory on the city's outskirts. He could have ordered the goods online, but he didn't have the time to wait; going to pick them up himself was far more convenient.

At the craft factory, he stated he was from a prop company. The factory manager, upon hearing this, very enthusiastically led him to the sample room to see the merchandise. Strolling around with measured steps, Cao Chuan tried out each one, finally selecting a wide-blade Tang Blade and examining it closely.

Seeing the customer's interest, the manager hurriedly introduced it: "Brother, you've got a good eye. This blade's design has been improved — it's a centimeter wider than a standard Tang Blade, giving it a more ferocious look. The materials are generous too, made of chromium steel with great toughness, no regular maintenance needed. If your company buys a batch, for any period drama set before the Republic of China, this model is the right choice."

Cao Chuan was quite satisfied. In the past, the blades he'd used on set were all those curved sabers made of plastic that wobbled back and forth when shaken, just like that thing. This blade was far more rigid and fierce — a straight blade body, a one-foot hilt for a two-handed grip, with its center of gravity toward the front, making it feel very smooth when swung.

Nodding, Cao Chuan asked, "How much? I'll start with twenty. If they work well, I'll want another batch."

The manager quickly replied, "Wholesale is five hundred and fifty per blade. Brother, the quality of these blades is no problem — they'll cut through a thinner steel bar in a single stroke. If you don't believe it, let's go out right now and chop a few to test. Guaranteed you'll be satisfied."

Cao Chuan remained noncommittal and continued wandering the showroom. He then took a liking to a classic short-blade Tang Blade, just over two feet long: "What about this one?"

"The short blade is actually a bit pricier — wholesale is seven hundred each."

Cao Chuan didn't haggle. He ordered twenty of each blade type. The manager collected the cash and went to prepare the goods. A while later, after loading the cargo into the car, Cao Chuan asked for a business card and then drove off.

The next stop was to buy stab-proof vests — offense and defense had to be balanced. Originally, he had foolishly considered buying some armor, but a quick online search revealed that he, a model citizen, was truly behind the times, so he switched his target directly to stab-proof vests.

Following the address saved on his phone, he drove all the way to a company called Hongtai in the city. Online reviews said this company's products were of good quality. The same routine: first, to the sample room to inspect the goods. Upon learning that this boss driving a Land Rover was from a demolition company, the manager didn't say another word and brought out three types of weapons for Cao Chuan to test himself.

Kitchen knife, dagger, triangular bayonet — three grades of weapons were tested one by one. The facts proved that any stab-proof vest capable of withstanding a grown man's full-force thrusts with a triangular bayonet was in the two-thousand-yuan-and-above tier. The three-to-five-hundred kind could only stop the first two weapons; faced with a triangular bayonet, it was done for.

The manager had long known the test results. Seeing the customer stop in front of the most expensive set and not leave, he hurriedly pitched it with all his might: "I know the demolition business well. You often get sudden steel-bar jabs from certain people. A half-section of steel bar isn't really that different from a triangular bayonet. Brother, it's not that I'm being blunt, but you've got to be alive to spend the money you earn, right? This set of mine is the top-grade Liquid Stab-proof Vest. You just tested its effectiveness. Wholesale price, I'll give it to you for two thousand eight hundred. Big bro guarantees you'll demolish with peace of mind. How about it?"

What more could Cao Chuan say? He paid on the spot for twenty sets, adding all the complete accessories — shoulder guards, arm guards, not a single piece missing. The helmet was a bit rough, though; Cao Chuan didn't dare take the kind with the glass face mask, deliberately choosing a desert-camo model that looked a dull, inconspicuous khaki.

As before, he asked for a business card, and as before, he stuffed the goods into his empty car.

Early the next morning, Cao Zhenren, clad in a plain, unadorned Daoist robe, appeared once more inside the bamboo hut four hundred years in the past.

Following the old routine, he messed up the bed before walking out. Not long after, Cao Chuan was already discussing the concrete implementation plan for the White Manor assault with the several masters.

This time, Chen Erye attended the meeting in place of Third Master Lin San, who was on rotation duty down the mountain. Because they had been waiting for Cao Chuan's news, Pingfeng Stronghold had proactively carried out a strategic contraction these past few days. Upon learning that the gentleman, during this cultivation session, had successfully requested a Dharma Artifact from his sect, Zhou Tong and the others were visibly brimming with excitement.

Cao Chuan brought out the stab-proof vests and the Tang Blades. First, he used the stronghold's battered choppers to test the clothing, then he directed Chen Huoding to strike a wrought-iron blade and a wide-blade Tang Blade against each other.

Looking at the wrought-iron blade broken into two pieces on the ground, Cao Chuan waved his hand to pause, preemptively stopping the exclamations, praise, and questions that were bound to follow. He was truly sick of this routine, having to painstakingly fabricate a story every time. In the end, he just left a cool parting line: "Mm, these blades? They're what West Kunlun uses to butcher pigs. The armor is Soft Hedgehog Armor. Pick some men and drill them — it'll be useful for charging the line."

Chen Erye swung the Tang Blade excitedly: "No wonder the gentleman has grown such a fine physique. These immortal pigs must truly have thick hides, to require such excellent blades for slaughter."

Cao Chuan: "..."

Zhou Tong, however, did not dwell too much on these blades and armor. After a moment of silence, he tactfully expressed that it was not that they feared death, but that these fine weapons were still insufficient to take White Village. Cao Chuan sighed and said, "I had intended to demonstrate this tomorrow. Very well, find a place — somewhere quiet, somewhat spacious, and free of idle onlookers."

The Mumu Mountain Range was a place of spectacular scenery, with layered emerald peaks, ancient trees in lush profusion, perilous crags and grotesque rocks, and the splendor of cascading springs and plunging waterfalls. Giant trees spread their branches, green bamboo blanketed the ground, wondrous summits pierced the clouds, and sheer cliffs formed precipitous walls. Gurgling streams threaded through the ravines, while mist and white vapor wreathed the peaks — a scene as poetic as a painting, breathtakingly beautiful.

A winding procession marched through the mountains. The column setting out from Pingfeng Stronghold, seen from afar, looked just like a green caterpillar threading its way across the landscape.

On the twenty-fifth day of the third month of the lunar calendar, in the seventh year of the Great Ming's Tianqi reign, a little over a month after first arriving in this esteemed land, Cao Chuan finally stepped out of the great mountains and embarked upon his own adventure.