Chapter 16: Zhang Jie: That

“Save us! Save us!”

The other bandits, seeing Wang Chuang dead, all begged Zhang Jie for help.

Zhang Jie was not surprised that these bandits were still alive this long.

In this ancient world where chemical industry was virtually nonexistent,

finding a colorless, odorless, painless poison that could kill within minutes was nearly impossible.

Even the most notorious poison—the Wang Po brand arsenic, meticulously crafted by Wang Po of Yanggu County—

required anywhere from ten minutes to an hour to cause death.

And even then, it demanded a high dosage (about 100–200 mg).

Moreover, due to the effects of arsenic trioxide, the main component of arsenic,

the victim would suffer multiple organ failure and endure unbearable agony before dying.

Even with the fictional embellishments of Master Shi Nai’an, in this world,

only the sleeping powder used in “The Theft of the Birthday Tribute” achieved colorlessness, odorlessness, and painlessness.

But naturally, it was not lethal; once the effect wore off,

those soldiers and Yang Zhi the Blue-Faced Beast were all hopping around as if nothing had happened.

In other words, if these bandits received timely medical aid, their poisoning might still be reversed.

Even if some had drunk too much and were beyond saving, a few who had consumed less could still be rescued.

“Save us!”

Their instinctive desire to live drove these bandits to beg Zhang Jie, the only one capable of saving them.

“Save you?”

Zhang Jie almost laughed at the bandits’ naive words.

Did they really think he had come here overnight just to bring them warmth and comfort?

Besides, the few clerks and guards killed in his family’s caravan

had also begged for mercy from the bandits of Wild Boar Village.

Yet these bastards didn’t spare them after seizing the goods—they tortured and murdered them for sport!

Swish!

Zhang Jie drew his longsword from his belt.

The clear blade reflected a cold, metallic gleam under the firelight.

“Rouzhi Sword Technique!”

Zhang Jie channeled his inner Qi into the blade, and the hundred-fold forged steel instantly became as pliant as silk.

The longsword bent and fluttered like a soft ribbon, unpredictable and fluid.

As Zhang Jie slowly circled the hall, the supple blade lightly sliced through the throats of the bandits

who lay on the ground, paralyzed by the growing effects of the poison.

These villains, who had raided and plundered alongside Wang Chuang, instantly met their end before Yan Wang.

They fulfilled their vow: not to be born on the same day, but to die on the same day.

“Wang Chuang? Does he think he can impersonate Li Chuangwang?”

After eliminating all the bandits, Zhang Jie approached Wang Chuang’s tiger-skin chair and stared at his corpse.

Li Chuangwang, no matter what, was a mighty warlord—how could he be compared to this petty chief of Wild Boar Village?

“By the way, this guy’s behavior just now clearly showed he was trying to flee,

and what’s most important when fleeing?”

Zhang Jie idly played with the divine crossbow he had taken from Wang Chuang’s hand, thinking.

“The answer is money!”

The next moment, he reached his conclusion.

When fleeing, you can lack anything—but never money!

Even a culturally ignorant Hong Kong thug who only knew how to drink, party, and slash people

knew to take along a thick gold chain and a gold Rolex when running away.

Zhang Jie casually tossed Wang Chuang’s lifeless corpse into the center of the hall to join his brothers,

then ripped off the tiger skin from the chair.

A sizable bundle appeared before him.

Zhang Jie’s eyes gleamed; he pried open the bundle with his sword scabbard and saw nothing but gleaming silver,

gleaming gold, and colorful jewels and ornaments!

Beneath them lay several large Song Dynasty government-issued jiaozi notes.

Zhang Jie picked one up and saw the bold characters: “One Hundred Liang.”

Indeed, the Great Song had already developed the world’s first widely circulated paper currency,

centuries before the Ming Dynasty’s infamous, toilet-paper-too-hard-for-use baochao!

Although the Han Dynasty had issued Emperor Wu’s “White Deer Skin Money,”

and the Tang Dynasty had “Flying Money,” both were merely prototypes of currency,

since the former was used only for royal gifts and the latter served merely as a remittance voucher, neither entering large-scale circulation.

“Wang Chuang has embezzled most of the loot!”

Looking at the gold, silver, and jewels worth at least a thousand liang, Zhang Jie marveled.

No matter how vile his methods or cruel his nature, Wang Chuang was truly a master at making money.

In a bandit stronghold like Wild Boar Village, worth barely a few thousand liang,

he had somehow amassed over a thousand liang in private wealth,

and still kept the other bandits from resenting him greatly—he was truly a little prince of embezzlement.

His art of embezzlement rivaled that of Wu Jingzhong, the station chief in “In the Name of the People,”

who mastered the principles of the Jade Throne Buddha, the Stepenk car, and basic recording techniques!

Station Chief: Two full carts of stolen goods—you didn’t take a look?

Li Ya: I did. Truly magnificent.

Station Chief: Tomorrow they’ll be shipped to Nanjing. What a pity!

Li Ya: I’ll escort them personally—absolutely safe!

Station Chief: I heard there’s a Jade Throne Buddha, the ancestral treasure of Liu Yu from the Eastern Jin.

Li Ya: Yes, extremely valuable. I just passed by your house and happened to see your wife…

Station Chief: And?

Li Ya: Your wife wanted to see the Jade Throne Buddha, but I refused.

It’s state property—it must be taken to Nanjing and placed in a museum!

Station Chief: A fool who thinks museums are for treasures!

…

As the victim, Zhang Jie naturally had no qualms about taking all the money.

After all, he had already spent hundreds of liang compensating the dead and injured clerks and guards.

Add to that the five hundred liang he donated to County Magistrate Wen for the bandit suppression,

and his direct cash outlay reached over a thousand liang.

Add the lost cargo, and his total losses were at least two thousand liang.

Taking Wang Chuang’s embezzled gold, silver, and jewels merely barely covered Zhang Jie’s losses.

And that doesn’t even count the loss of several capable men!

Zhang Jie: In the Great Song, what is most precious?

He further ransacked the entire mountain stronghold and found over a hundred taels of other bandits’ wealth.

After hastily ransacking the entire stronghold and seizing another hundred liang in other bandits’ wealth,

Zhang Jie set fire to the main hall of Wild Boar Village.

“Let all this return to dust and earth.”

Standing before the roaring flames, Zhang Jie’s expression grew serene.

The two early minor bosses he had faced—Ximen Da Guanren and Wild Boar Village—were now dealt with.

It was time to face greater challenges.

Sword in hand, spear slung, bundle on back, Zhang Jie walked away without looking back.

Of course, Zhang Jie, who had basic fire safety knowledge, deliberately left a firebreak

to confine the flames to the main hall of Wild Boar Village.

What was that little rhyme again?

One fire on the mountain, the chief falls for me.

Fire on the mountain in the morning, me in the station by afternoon.

A wisp of smoke from the mountain, I become a god in prison.

One fire on the mountain, you and me in the station.

Bring fire up the mountain, spend your life in the cell.

[101] One fire on the mountain, the chief comes looking for me.

[102] …

With experience, Zhang Jie moved swiftly, scaling the wall and slipping back into the room through the window.

Then he noticed: Pan Jinlian, who should have been sound asleep, was sitting upright on the bed, staring at him with sharp eyes.

“Jinlian, weren’t you already asleep?”

Zhang Jie’s hand, holding the bundle, froze midair.

“If I could sleep soundly whenever my husband was out at night, I’d be a terrible wife.”

Pan Jinlian rose, smoothly taking the bundle and long sword from Zhang Jie’s hands,

then, as she always did, helped him shed his nightclothes and don his sleeping robe.

“Master, did you go out to kill and set fires tonight?”

Pan Jinlian wrinkled her delicate nose, catching the lingering scent of smoke on Zhang Jie’s body.

“Uh…”

Caught red-handed, Zhang Jie nodded dumbly.

“Jinlian, how did you notice something was off?”

Still, Zhang Jie was curious, so he asked.

“Of course, I noticed from your behavior at night.”

Pan Jinlian’s cheeks flushed slightly as she replied.

Zhang Jie had never dared touch her at night before,

but how could a frail, sickly young master, raised since childhood with poor health, behave like this these past two days?

He was clearly an insatiable ox, tireless and relentless!

Had his words and actions not remained unchanged, she’d have thought someone had swapped her master!

“Uh…”

Zhang Jie scratched his head—he realized he’d been overly exuberant these past two days.

But letting such a breathtakingly beautiful, exquisitely charming woman go unused—wasn’t that wasting heaven’s gift?

When the flower blooms, pluck it while you may; don’t wait till it’s gone and grasp only empty branches.

And who knew how hard Zhang Jie had endured these past years?

Add to that the monstrous physical condition of the original Zhang Jie—how could he possibly hold back?

“Master, why have you changed so much these past two days?”

Pulling Zhang Jie onto the bed, Pan Jinlian asked curiously.

“How do I put it?”

Zhang Jie frowned.

He could never reveal the Shared Space,

yet the drastic change between his past and present self was impossible to hide from his bedmate,

so he needed a plausible explanation.

Besides, Pan Jinlian had been utterly loyal to him these past years—

she was a candidate worthy of sharing a minor secret.

“Master, if it’s difficult for you, I won’t ask.”

The astute Pan Jinlian spoke with understanding.

“Cough, cough…”

Zhang Jie cleared his throat, gathered his thoughts, and spoke slowly:

“Jinlian, do you believe in immortals?”

“I do, of course I do.

If there were no immortals, how could I have met you, Master?”

Pan Jinlian spoke with radiant happiness.

When she was at her most desperate, powerless, praying only to gods and Buddhas,

Zhang Jie had descended like a celestial deity, rescuing her from fire and water.

To her, Zhang Jie was her immortal,

the hero who rode upon seven-colored auspicious clouds!

Come to think of it, it was Zhang Jie who first told her about that monkey who rode seven-colored clouds!

Zhang Jie: Wu Cheng’en hadn’t even been born yet—

Brother Monkey was still on Huaguo Mountain in Aolai Country of the Eastern Sea, absorbing the essence of heaven and earth, the spirit of sun and moon!

To hasten the arrival of that beloved monkey into the mortal world, Zhang Jie had lightly “borrowed” from Journey to the West.

In truth, before the Shared Space appeared, Zhang Jie had planned to, after passing the imperial exams,

fully transport literary masterpieces like the Four Great Classical Novels!

Zhang Jie: I don’t produce literature—I’m merely a carrier of it…

So, does that mean you’re a celestial immortal reincarnated, and now your divine powers have awakened?

Pan Jinlian interpreted Zhang Jie’s transformation in terms she could understand.

“Well… sort of.”

Zhang Jie answered uncertainly.

From the perspective of 21st-century technology, the Song Dynasty might as well be the celestial realm.

Everyone had eyes that saw a thousand li, ears that heard a thousand li, and could transmit voices across vast distances (cell phones, computers, the internet).

Even the immortal fantasy of “traveling to the Northern Sea at dawn, reaching the Cangwu Mountains by dusk” could be achieved with a mere cost (paying for a flight).

Moreover, due to the technological explosion, the material abundance of the 21st century was unprecedented.

At least in the nation he came from, as long as one tried, one would never starve.

This was unimaginable in ancient society—open any historical record, and you’d find:

“In such-and-such year, famine struck; people ate each other.”

Honestly, had he not been born into the Zhang family this lifetime,

and had he not been unsure whether he could restart after death,

even before the divine tool appeared, Zhang Jie had considered restarting.

And later, if more great masters from the Shared Space arrived—immortal cultivation, mythological, primordial chaos types—

Why couldn’t he, Zhang Jie, be an immortal too?

Zhang Jie: As the saying goes, the emperor’s throne rotates; this year it’s my turn. The same goes for immortals!

“Then… will you abandon me and return to heaven?”

Pan Jinlian gripped Zhang Jie’s hand tightly, terrified he’d vanish into clouds and never return.

“Of course not.”

Zhang Jie pulled Pan Jinlian into his arms and made a solemn promise.

Her tense body finally softened.

“So… was it you who killed Master Ximen?”

The astute Pan Jinlian immediately connected this to Ximen Qing’s death.

“Yes. He plotted against my family—he earned his death.”

Zhang Jie admitted frankly.

“To be killed by one blow from your palm was too kind for him.”

Pan Jinlian’s voice brimmed with hatred for Ximen Qing.

Recalling his lecherous, repulsive gaze upon her in the past, she clenched her teeth in fury.

Had it not been for Zhang Jie’s protection, she didn’t know what humiliations Ximen Qing would have inflicted upon her.

“Jinlian, look at this.”

Zhang Jie flipped his palm, revealing an object before her.

“Wow! This hairpin is so beautiful!”

Pan Jinlian saw a gilded, intricately carved hairpin inlaid with pearls and jewels.

This hairpin was the finest piece Zhang Jie had found in Wang Chuang’s private treasury.

According to Zhang Jie’s estimation, it had likely been stolen from a wealthy family’s daughter—valuable beyond measure.

Finding its design elegant, Zhang Jie had decided to offer it as a gift to Pan Jinlian.

“Here, Jinlian, let me fasten it for you,” Zhang Jie said.

Zhang Jie saw that the style and appearance were quite fine, so he thought to use the flowers to offer to Pan Jinlian.

Pan Jinlian lowered her head shyly.

“Master, does it look good?”

Pan Jinlian took up a mirror, holding it by candlelight to admire herself carefully.

“Beautiful. Of course it’s beautiful.”

Zhang Jie, no longer Chulan, knew exactly what to say at this moment.

“But I still love you most when you wear no ornaments at all, hehe!”

Zhang Jie, no longer Chulan, knew exactly what to say at this moment.

“I still like you best when you’re not wearing all this junk, hehe!”

Zhang Jie leaned close to Pan Jinlian’s ear and grinned slyly.

Having lived with Zhang Jie for years, their hearts were in tune,

and Pan Jinlian, who had been openly honest with him these past two days, knew exactly what he meant:

Clothes are also a form of ornament, you know~

“Oh dear, Young Master, you’re so naughty!”

Pan Jinlian lightly punched Zhang Jie’s chest, pouting.

“Hahaha, Jinlian, it’s late tonight—let’s rest.”

Zhang Jie swept Pan Jinlian into his arms and headed for the bed.

The Second World War of tonight began!