Chapter 1380: Competitive Psychology (Part II)

Next morning, after Hu Xiaotian got up, he heard that Xu Mubai had already left first; he had Zhao Wusheng go make preparations and hurry to Fragrant Drift City. When they finished breakfast and left the inn, they saw that the Shajia people had not yet gotten up; Hu Xiaotian didn't want to travel with them, so he had the inn owner pass on the message, then led the group out toward Fragrant Drift City.

On the official road to Fragrant Drift City, crowds flowed continuously, most of them going to apply for the prince consort position; along the way many were seen sparring and fighting, and because everyone shared the same goal, conflicts were inevitable—some hot-tempered youths would clash at a disagreement, lightly exchanging blows, seriously drawing swords.

Hu Xiaotian originally thought that leaving early would let him reach Fragrant Drift City before nightfall, but once on the road he found that every stretch brought a fight—either a formal duel or a mass brawl, or simply ganging up on the few; these people seemed to think that knocking out an opponent increased their chance of becoming prince consort.

Although the outsiders' fights had nothing to do with Hu Xiaotian, this group caused multiple traffic blockages on the road to Fragrant Drift City, forcing him to delay repeatedly; going and stopping, he unknowingly reached noon, when he heard horse hooves behind him—it was the Shajia group catching up.

He Erdan saw Hu Xiaotian from afar and smiled, saying, "Big Brother Hu, why didn't you wait for me?"

His sister Mengya glared at Zhao Wusheng with a vicious look, saying in a disdainful tone, "It's not that we're worried we'll beat them to it, afraid we won't become prince consort?"

Hu Xiaotian really found it laughable; he wasn't that narrow-minded—recruiting a prince consort wasn't a footrace where first come, first served, since the official selection wasn't until the ninth day of the ninth month, so arriving early or late didn't matter.

He Erdan straightened his face and scolded, "Mengya! Don't be rude!"

Hu Xiaotian slowed his horse and rode up beside He Erdan, smiling, "I have some matters to attend to in Fragrant Drift City, and seeing you still in bed, I didn't want to disturb your rest."

He Erdan laughed, "Big Brother Hu, don't bother with this girl; I just wonder why you've only come this far."

Hu Xiaotian pointed ahead and said, "This is already the fifth fight we've encountered this morning; two groups are there contending for the prince consort position, locked in an intense struggle—as if winning would make one the prince consort."

He Erdan also couldn't help laughing; they had encountered similar situations on the way, but apparently they had been a bit smoother, otherwise they wouldn't have caught up to Hu Xiaotian's pace.

He Erdan called to those behind, "Dahalu, clear the way!"

Dahalu came charging from behind, wielding two Great Iron Hammers, his black steed larger than ordinary horses—imposing and godlike. Hu Xiaotian admired him inwardly, a truly mighty hero; if he had brought Xiong Tianba along, he wondered whose hammer would be stronger. Actually, there's no need to wonder: Xiong Tianba's strength is boundless, his hammer technique superb, and even Zhao Wusheng wouldn't claim to beat him. Yet Zhao Wusheng had defeated Dahalu, proving Xiong Tianba's martial skill far surpasses Dahalu's.

Dahalu spurred his horse into the fiercely fighting crowd, shouting, "Good dogs don't block the road; those who block aren't good dogs—scatter!" He swung his hammers like windmills.

The combatants saw a foreign barbarian suddenly charge in; looking at his build and aura, they realized he was no pushover—those hammers were like huge melons, and anyone touched would surely die, so they hurriedly stopped fighting and dodged to the sides.

Dahalu had just cleared the path this way; seeing everyone dodge, he felt pleased and shouted, "All of you scatter! The princess is my prince's—no one may contend!"

Just as he broke through the crowd, a figure suddenly came forward to meet him, a cold light slicing straight down at him.

Dahalu stared and saw that the opponent was a dark-skinned youth in tattered clothes, wielding a black iron sword, his body leaping in midair—actually three feet higher than Dahalu on horseback—and he swung the sword at Dahalu's head.

Dahalu roared and raised his twin hammers to meet the attack; though the opponent's iron sword was half again heavier than a normal blade, it still couldn't match the weight of his great hammers, and he thought he could at least knock the weapon away. But reality defied his expectations—with a loud clang, Dahalu was shaken so hard that he and his hammers fell from his horse, the hammers digging two deep pits in the ground, while the youth steadied himself on Dahalu's horse and snorted coldly, "Don't even open your eyes to see where this is—how dare you foreigners act so arrogantly?"

Dahalu's horse, now ridden by a stranger, naturally resisted, lifting its forelegs and letting out a long whinny, trying to throw the youth off; the youth sank his qi into his dantian, pressed down, and actually forced the horse to kneel with a thud.

Seeing this person's divine strength, everyone was secretly amazed.

Among the Shajia camp, a red-clad figure shot out like a flame—it was Shajia Princess Mengya, who was always spoiled and fiery; seeing her own people suffer a setback, she couldn't swallow the anger, and she flicked her long whip, which lashed like a poisonous snake toward the youth's neck.

The youth hadn't yet dismounted when he saw the whip arrive; he remained calm, extended his arm, firmly grasped the whip's tip, and using Mengya's pulling force, he clamped his legs and lifted, causing his mount to rise as well.

Mengya gritted her teeth trying to reclaim the whip from his hand, but he first pulled hard then suddenly released; Mengya cried out, her body lurching backward from the force, about to fall from the horse—though she wouldn't be seriously injured, being dumped on her rear in front of everyone would be utterly embarrassing.

At the critical moment Zhao Wusheng rushed forward, grabbed her shoulder, and thus prevented Mengya's embarrassing fall; it wasn't that Zhao Wusheng intended to help her, but he just happened to be nearby behind her.

Mengya turned and glared at Zhao Wusheng, whispering, "Why are you meddling?"

Zhao Wusheng couldn't help but wryly smile—truly, good intentions backfired, and he had only brought trouble upon himself.

He Erdan furrowed his brows; the youth had struck twice—he had not only knocked Dahalu from his horse and taken his mount, but just now had nearly injured Mengya, so He Erdan naturally felt his dignity harmed. He glanced at Jialuo, who understood, muttered a few words, and immediately his disciple Kantu rode his horse out from the ranks.

The youth had consecutively defeated two members of the Shajia envoy, his confidence growing; looking at the young foreign monk stepping from the ranks, he sneered, "Are all foreigners so clueless about advancing and retreating?"

Kantu said nothing, his gray-brown eyes locked on the youth; the youth, irritated by the stare, snapped, "What are you staring at me for? If you want to fight, fight; if you lack the guts, get lost, old man!"

Hu Xiaotian, however, sensed something amiss—the monk had stepped forward but didn't rush to attack, his gaze strange; it was likely he intended to use soul-capturing technique on the youth. Hu Xiaotian recalled his earlier trip to Xichuan to celebrate Li Tianheng's birthday, when he had encountered the soul-capturing master DuoJi; had it not been for Weisa beside him, he himself might have fallen to DuoJi's trick. Though the youth's martial skill and swordsmanship were decent, they still lagged far behind his own, and few surpassed him in concentration—so the youth would likely suffer.

As expected, after the youth uttered just one sentence, he felt his gaze locked to the monk's eyes; Kantu's eyes were like magnets, holding his sight fast. Suddenly his head buzzed, and his mind fell into blankness.

Kantu then spurred his horse forward, using soul-capturing technique to seize the youth's mind, then launched an attack—a fierce punch to the youth's jaw that sent the defenseless opponent flying sideways and crashing heavily to the ground.

The scene fell silent at once; just moments ago everyone had seen the youth display godlike might, but as soon as the foreign monk emerged from the Shajia camp the tide reversed—before the youth could even react, he was knocked off his horse.

Dahalu saw the youth collapse not far ahead, roared, and lifted his Great Iron Hammer to smash the youth's head.

Hu Xiaotian promptly stopped him, saying, "No!"

He Erdan also spoke at the same time; although Dahalu wouldn't obey Hu Xiaotian's orders, he absolutely submitted to his master He Erdan, so hearing He Erdan's command to cease, he hastily halted his action.

The youth clutched his chest and sat on the ground, his expression dazed, as if sleepwalking.

Hu Xiaotian felt a twinge of sympathy—if they had fought fairly, the youth's skill might not have fallen to the monk Kantu, but since Kantu used soul-capturing, the youth would struggle to regain his senses for a while.

He Erdan also didn't want trouble, for they were in the Heavenly Fragrance Kingdom; if they caused a death, they'd face serious trouble, so taking advantage of the crowd clearing a path, he ordered everyone to move on quickly without further delay.

Hu Xiaotian had meant to leave, but Zhao Wusheng said, "Strange, that youth seems off."

Hu Xiaotian looked up and saw the youth suddenly rise slowly from the ground, pick up the iron sword lying there, fix his gaze on the person who had come to help him up, then walk over slowly.

Hu Xiaotian silently thought, "Not good"—the youth's condition showed his will was still under control; although the monk who had manipulated him had left, the influence remained, and from the youth's blood-red eyes it looked like he was about to go on a killing spree.

Hu Xiaotian frowned; the monk's heart was truly vicious—tampering with the youth was worse than killing him outright. He gave Zhao Wusheng a look, and Zhao Wusheng shouted, "Everyone stay away from him!" (To be continued~^~)