Chapter 335: Revealing the True Face: The Real and Fake Yan Wang (Combined)

【"I am the Yan Wang!"】

【A sharp, feminine voice rang out inside the pavilion.】

【"Waiter, bring the best wine you have!"】

【Before the woman had finished speaking, a golden coin landed neatly in the old man's calloused palm.】

【The old man squinted, pinched the gold with his fingernail, confirmed its authenticity, and beamed with delight, shoving the unexpected windfall into his bosom without delay.】

【This is a big fish!】

【The old man shouted loudly, "Xiu'er, bring wine to these gentlemen right away!"】

【The lead woman, beneath her wide-brimmed hat, corrected him impatiently:】

【"Don't call them 'gentlemen'—call them Yan Wang! Remember that!"】

【"Yes, Yan Wang, please come in!"】

【She led the other eight inside in single file, taking over the last remaining table with an air of commanding authority.】

【At the neighboring table, a young nobleman dressed in brocade robes glanced at the newcomers, a sly, mocking smile curling at his lips.】

【The green-clad woman remained as detached as ever, indifferent to everything around her.】

【As for the middle-aged man and the alluring woman at the other table, their expressions remained utterly calm, unchanged.】

【Lu Yu's face lit up with interest; his seven disciples froze in surprise.】

【They had barely stepped beyond the mountain gate today, yet already they encountered a "fake master-uncle." The group trailing him included a young man, and the other seven wore Daoist robes—so clearly branded with "Mount Zhongnan" they might as well have pasted the words on their foreheads.】

【Their leader boldly claimed to be "Yan Wang"—this was an outright impersonation of their nine identities.】

【Who dared impersonate a senior of our sect beneath the sacred Mount Zhongnan?】

【Do they truly believe the Seven Sons of Zhongnan's famed reputation rests on the lingering glory of our Master and Master-Uncle? No—we carved our names through blood and blade, step by step, in the martial world.】

【Two of the seven had already risen to their feet, burning with rage.】

【Especially Yang Su—his temper flared like fire. He shot up, his heart surging with fury: To impersonate us we might tolerate, but to brazenly defy our Master-Uncle? Who gave them the guts?】

【"How dare you!"】

【The four words nearly burst from his lips—but he swallowed them back.】

【For at that moment, a thread-thin voice slipped silently into their ears.】

【"Observe and wait.】

【The seven swiftly adjusted their postures, sitting upright and still, their glances unconsciously flickering toward the Master-Uncle across the way. Though his face remained hidden beneath the hat, their hearts churned like tidal waves, barely containing their excitement.】

【The Master-Uncle has truly entered the Grand Master realm!】

【Our Master sometimes transmits voice through qi—spiritual energy carried directly to the ear—that is the hallmark of a Grand Master.】

【The Seven Sons of Zhongnan's reaction caught the attention of the lead woman who had just entered.】

【"Oh?"】

【The woman saw nine others: seven dressed as Daoists of Mount Zhongnan, one young man in white robes, and one figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat.】

【Their attire matched theirs perfectly—uncannily so!】

【The woman nodded and called to the old man: "The meals and drinks of these martial heroes are on me—the Yan Wang's tab."】

【The Seven Sons of Zhongnan were stunned again—what was going on here?】

【They assessed the group: all nine had low cultivation levels; the lead woman was merely a top-tier martial artist, and only one old man among them concealed a Master-level aura.】

【The woman called Xiu'er emerged from behind the pavilion's curtain, pouring wine onto each table.】

【A black braid, reaching down to her waist, swung back and forth; even in thick winter robes, her figure remained alluring, its curves unmistakable.】

【Yet when Xiu'er turned around, her face was a crushing disappointment.】

【One cheek was covered in red blotches; the other appeared severely burned—any appetite vanished instantly.】

【The woman beneath the hat, however, kept her gaze shifting between the Seven Sons of Zhongnan, growing more and more astonished—as if she'd uncovered some impossible secret.】

【So similar! Too similar!】

【The woman scrutinized the Seven Sons, murmuring inwardly.】

【The eldest, Duan Sheng, was a thirty-year-old swordsman of average build, fond of carrying a peach-wood sword and wielding a light steel blade, with two thin mustaches and a habit of looking askance at others—he ranked 297 on the Jingzhe List.】

【The second, Luo Chen'guan, stood eight feet tall, broad-shouldered, with a round, moonlike face, thick earlobes, and a gentle gaze; he excelled in fist techniques and ranked even higher than Duan Sheng at 275 on the Jingzhe List.】

【The others included the sixth, who carried an abacus, and the fifth, Yang Su, who wore a loose Daoist robe and radiated the aura of a bandit.】

【The more she looked, the more convinced she became—they must have been pulled from some obscure corner. How could they be so identical?】

【Her gaze shifted to the other side, where a young man in white Daoist robes caught her eye—his bearing exuded celestial grace.】

【But!】

【Lu Yu was over fifty; even if he favored white robes, he could not possibly retain such youthful features.】

【The woman beneath the hat shook her head slightly—this one didn't pass.】

【The other man was passable, but lacked presence—he looked like an ordinary civilian.】

【In contrast, the people she'd gathered—she sighed—except for the number matching, nothing else resembled them.】

【As she pondered, the old man beside her whispered, interrupting her thoughts:】

【"Miss, that pair at the table are the new golden couple of the Sword Sect—rising fast, not to be underestimated."】

【The woman's gaze drifted involuntarily to the other table: a woman in green robes, her sword resting beside her, radiating an ethereal aura; beside her sat a handsome man in brocade, his eyes filled with amusement as he observed the two new groups entering the pavilion.】

【She waved her hand dismissively.】

【"They take their own road; we take ours. No interference."】

【"Miss, these nine seem to be mere ordinary martial travelers."】

【"Don't cause trouble."】

【"Yes, Miss." The old man fell silent.】

【The Seven Sons of Zhongnan cultivated both the "Primordial Qi Art" and the "Great Yellow Court Scripture," mastering the subtle art of concealing true qi. Recently, the sixth had ascended to Master level—now all seven were Masters, their cultivation surpassing even other Masters of their rank.】

【To other Masters, they might appear as mere fringe figures, skilled only in crude "peasant techniques."】

【Too insignificant to notice!】

【Only a Grand Master could perceive their true cultivation.】

【Soon, the sky grew darker.】

【Wind howled, driving rain into the pavilion.】

【Thunder cracked like the heavens splitting open; heavy rain poured down, blurring everything into a gray haze.】

【The pavilion's roof trembled under the storm's fury. Xiu'er held a straw broom taller than herself, standing on either side, straining to block the deluge.】

【As the rain poured, puddles quickly formed on the ground outside; noon had turned to dusk.】

【Streaks of brilliant white lightning flashed outside.】

【Inside, the old man skillfully lit several oil lamps; their dim yellow glow added warmth to the cramped space.】

【The flickering fire cast shifting shadows on every face, each expression different.】

【The old man emerged from the kitchen, carrying steaming dishes: fish, drunken duck stew, softshell turtle, sliced beef—each dish exuded irresistible aroma, color, and flavor, making mouths water.】

【Located beside the Yuetangjiang River, seafood here was abundant—rice cost more than fish.】

【With booming trade, famous dishes from all regions had begun arriving.】

【Soon, four dishes and one soup filled the table, their fragrances rising, making everyone's stomachs rumble.】

【The old man stood by, smiling, rubbing his hands, waiting for a tip.】

【Within Mount Zhongnan's territory, this custom ran deep: every year, the flood of pilgrims fueled prosperity in the taverns and teahouses below, and northern patrons often spent lavishly, tossing out thousands of silver taels at a time.】

【You slowly removed your hat, revealing your true face.】

【This act froze one of the four hooded figures at the other table.】

【The woman wearing the hat among the nine turned to look.】

【There!】

【A middle-aged man with faintly grayed temples, bearing a weathered look; under the lamplight, his features were indistinct, and he seemed utterly unremarkable.】

【The only striking thing was his bright eyes.】

【As if sensing her gaze, he smiled at her.】

【The woman slowly looked away, feeling an odd sense of familiarity.】

【Then!】

【The woman decisively tore off her own hat, placing it on the bench, revealing her face.】

【She was barely in her twenties, her lustrous hair tied into a neat ponytail, exposing a smooth forehead, arched brows, delicate features—radiating a bold, spirited elegance.】

【"Waiter, I'll pay for these martial heroes' tab!"】

【With that!】

【Another golden coin flew toward the old man, who, despite the dim light, caught it with both hands, grinning broadly.】

【He carefully opened his palms!】

【His smile bloomed like a chrysanthemum; he bowed deeply, thanking her profusely, then cast another glance at you.】

【You thanked the spirited woman.】

【Each table held an oil lamp; its dim light illuminated the steaming dishes before them.】

【After serving the food, Xiu'er stood silently against the pavilion wall, her eyes hollow and lifeless.】

【The old man stood nearby, hands tucked in his sleeves, quietly observing the guests, a strange smile on his face.】

【The woman with the ponytail tasted a few bites, then nodded approvingly.】

【In such a remote place, such flavor was rare indeed.】

The woman sensed something unusual about this group of nine, and she felt inclined to befriend them; slowly rising, she held a pot of hot wine and walked toward your table.

At that moment!

The middle-aged man and the seductive woman at another table had already risen, placed silver on the table, and prepared to leave.

Yet strangely!

Outside, the rain still poured in torrents, the roads muddy and unsuitable for travel!

You and Lu Yu clearly felt another rapid clatter of hooves approaching.

The hooves carried splashes of pooled rainwater, striking the ground with a "papap" sound, mingling with shouts, neighing horses, rain, and thunder!

The old man by the wall slightly raised his eyebrows.

Just then!

"Bang!"

A deafening crash erupted—the thatched roof of the tavern was violently torn open, and the heavy rain outside instantly gushed down through the thatch along the eaves, drenching the interior.

Thunderclaps boomed outside, flashes of lightning illuminating the surroundings in blinding white.

Everyone inside the pavilion witnessed a chilling sight!

Outside the tavern, more than twenty cloaked swordsmen had silently surrounded the place.

They held long blades, their edges gleaming coldly under the rain, their eyes radiating cruelty and murderous intent—clearly, they meant harm.

Their leader wore a black robe, his face as icy and cold as frozen stone; he stood motionless in the rain, letting the downpour wash over him as if he felt no chill at all.

His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept over every person in the pavilion, finally settling on the middle-aged man and the seductive woman who had risen to leave.

The rain continued to pour relentlessly, thunder rolling without end.

And inside the pavilion, the crowd faced this sudden turn of events.

The usually calm middle-aged man and seductive woman instantly paled.

The four figures in hooded cloaks had risen, their expressions tense as they scanned the surrounding swordsmen.

The green-clad woman at another table stood, silently gripping the hilt of her sword.

The brocade-clad man also dropped his smile.

The old man quickly pulled his granddaughter Xiu'er back inside, peering out through the door crack.

The woman with the ponytail returned to the old man's side; all of them rose, ready for battle.

Only the Zhongnan Seven and your table remained utterly still, still eating and picking at their dishes.

Lu Yu's voice whispered in your ear: eight or nine of these twenty-four swordsmen were Masters, and their leader was already a Grand Master.

Who would have thought that in a simple tavern, four Grand Masters had appeared.

The brocade-clad man had recognized these swordsmen and their leader; his face turned ashen, and he could not help but speak:

"The Senluo Hall, Ouyang Huangquan!"

His name exploded like the thunder above.

Ouyang Huangquan, ranked eleventh on the Jingzhe List, head of the Senluo Hall—the third-ranked assassin organization in the martial world, a true overlord of the Jianghu.

The top ten were unranked; eleventh seemed almost weak.

But he was, after all, the first man in all the land after those ten—the Grand Master realm.

Who in the world would dare underestimate him?

As the brocade-clad young master spoke, panic spread through the crowd; even the woman with the ponytail turned pale.

Jianghu Grand Masters towered above all martial cultivators.

The black-robed man with the icy expression slowly stepped into the pavilion; he unleashed a burst of inner energy, and not a single drop of rain could wet his sleeves.

His gaze did not directly fix on the middle-aged man and seductive woman, though they were his targets.

Instead, his eyes drifted between your group of nine and the ponytailed woman's group of nine, his expression sharp with scrutiny.

"I never imagined the Baoyue Tower's secrets could be leaked," he said, his voice low and hoarse, radiating an aura of quiet authority.

"Now, everyone in the world knows a Grand Master intends to kill Lu Chen on the Yuetangjiang."

"And so, countless false Yan Kings have flooded the Yuetangjiang region, to serve as decoys!"

Here, Ouyang Huangquan's lips curled into a cold smile.

"Lu Chen truly has the people's heart."

(End of Chapter)