Chapter 43

“Wu Yashan and Su Xinghe have excellent taste indeed!”

In the Tianlong world, beneath Leigushan in Henan, Zhang Jie admired the towering peaks,

the breathtakingly beautiful lake and mountain scenery, and could not help but praise it aloud.

One could only say that the Xiaoyao Sect was truly a sect that judged disciples by appearance,

even its headquarters must be exceptionally beautiful.

As Zhang Jie admired the scenery, he climbed the stone steps upward toward Leigushan.

Since Leigushan was a sacred site of the Xiaoyao Sect, it was naturally guarded at all times.

Zhang Jie had barely reached halfway up when someone already spotted him.

Of course, this was also due to Zhang Jie maintaining a normal hiker’s pace and making no effort to conceal himself.

On the mountainside, a middle-aged man with a kind face blocked Zhang Jie’s path.

The man scrutinized Zhang Jie, dressed as a scholar on a spring outing, his eyes wary:

“Who are you? What brings you to Leigushan?”

Yet despite his wariness, the man could not help marveling at Zhang Jie’s natural beauty,

as if a celestial deity had descended from the heavens, incarnated as a transcendent immortal.

At the same time, his suspicion lessened slightly:

Such a handsome young man—Ding Chunqiu could hardly control him.

Yet the man knew that although the possibility was small, he could not afford to neglect it.

While tightening his vigilance, his expression softened even further.

Zhang Jie was not surprised by the man’s kind demeanor.

Let me reiterate once more: all Xiaoyao Sect disciples, from the Three Xiaoyao Masters downward, were beauty-obsessed.

The sect’s founder, Xiaoyaozi, remained ambiguous—no direct records exist—but

anyone who could raise the Three Xiaoyao Masters, such obvious beauty-obsessives, could not possibly be anything but a beauty-obsessive himself. Zhang Jie refused to believe otherwise.

“I had no idea I stood before the famed ‘Enemy of the King of Hell,’ Master Xue Mu Hua. This humble scholar Zhang Jie offers his respects.”

Recognizing the man’s identity, Zhang Jie bowed deeply with solemnity.

The middle-aged man was none other than the legendary physician Xue Mu Hua, known as the “Enemy of the King of Hell.”

Xue Mu Hua’s medical skill was said to be so exquisite he could snatch patients from the King of Hell’s grasp.

No mysterious illness, internal injury, sword or knife wound, or poison in the Jianghu could escape his cure.

In The Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, he once treated Zhu Zhu at the Quxian Manor, who had been beaten to the brink of death,

and would have already reported to the King of Hell had it not been for the extraordinary inner power of that man with the built-in speaker.

In the Jianghu, who doesn’t get wounded?

Even Zhang Jie, a guaranteed survivor, could not guarantee he would never be injured again,

so he treated the physician Xue Mu Hua with great courtesy.

Notably, Jin Yong’s novels feature many renowned physicians.

Besides Xue Mu Hua, The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber has Hu Qingniu, the Butterfly Valley’s Divine Physician,

and The Smiling, Proud Wanderer has Ping Yizhi, the assassin-physician—both equally skilled yet eccentric.

Zhang Jie found it odd that Xue Mu Hua was present on Leigushan.

To protect his disciples from Ding Chunqiu’s harm,

Su Xinghe had expelled eight disciples—including Xue Mu Hua—from the sect, vowing never to see them again.

These eight dared not even call each other fellow disciples.

“Forget it for now.”

Unable to resolve the matter immediately, Zhang Jie decided to set it aside,

for now, meeting Wu Yashan and achieving his goal was paramount.

“So you’re young Master Zhang? Did you come to Leigushan for a spring outing?”

Xue Mu Hua, finding Zhang Jie inexplicably pleasing, stroked his beard and smiled.

“This scholar did not come for a spring outing.”

Fully embodying his scholar persona, Zhang Jie shook his head gently.

“Oh? Pray tell me your purpose.”

Xue Mu Hua pressed further.

“I heard that on Leigushan, Master Congbian has set up the Zhenlong Chess Puzzle,

unsolved for decades. This scholar, overcome by curiosity, came specifically to observe it.”

Zhang Jie slowly revealed one of his purposes.

“You came for the Zhenlong Chess Puzzle?”

Xue Mu Hua frowned upon hearing this.

He was not surprised that Zhang Jie knew of the Zhenlong Chess Puzzle.

Master Congbian, Su Xinghe, had guarded Leigushan for decades,

and had invited numerous young Jianghu talents to play chess on the mountain.

It was natural that rumors of the Zhenlong Chess Puzzle had spread through the Jianghu.

What troubled him was that the next opening of the puzzle was still some time away.

The invited talents—such as Bei Qiao Feng and Nan Murong—had not yet been summoned.

In short, Zhang Jie had arrived too early.

“Is Master Congbian not on Leigushan?”

Zhang Jie feigned ignorance, knowing full well Su Xinghe could not leave the mountain.

He had a sudden idea—a tactic of retreat to advance.

“I apologize for disturbing you. I shall return another time.”

Zhang Jie turned as if to leave.

“Wait a moment, young master—I shall inform Master Congbian at once.”

Xue Mu Hua gritted his teeth, unwilling to let Zhang Jie slip away.

Such a strikingly handsome young man must be born of heaven’s spiritual energy,

and his talent must be exceptional—perfectly meeting the Xiaoyao Sect’s disciple standards.

And since Zhang Jie had come all the way to Leigushan for the Zhenlong Chess Puzzle,

he likely had great confidence in his chess skills and might even solve the puzzle,

thereby breaking the Xiaoyao Sect’s impasse.

Of course, Xue Mu Hua still remembered Su Xinghe’s teachings,

absolutely forbidden from revealing any connection between master and disciple,

hence he always referred to Su Xinghe as Master Congbian.

“Thank you, Master Xue.”

Zhang Jie displayed an expression of profound gratitude.

His acting, honed across multiple worlds,

fooled even Xue Mu Hua, a physician who had encountered every kind of Jianghu figure.

Zhang Jie sighed: Life is hard—relying entirely on acting!

……

“Young master, Master Congbian has agreed to play a game of chess with you. Please follow me.”

Soon, Xue Mu Hua returned with good news.

“Thank you, Master Xue.”

Zhang Jie expressed his gratitude again, this time with genuine sincerity: without Xue Mu Hua’s intervention,

he feared he would return empty-handed—or wait until Duan Yu and Xu Zhen arrived on Leigushan.

After all, he could not simply walk up to Su Xinghe and declare he had come to “inherit”

Wu Yashan’s sixty years of Beiming Divine Art.

That would make even Su Xinghe’s toes suspect him.

Zhang Jie followed Xue Mu Hua to the mountainside.

There lay a vast natural terrace, dotted with a few thatched cottages,

clearly the residence of Su Xinghe and his companions.

Most striking of all was a massive stone chessboard at the terrace’s center, measuring meters across.

The board held numerous black and white stones, each the size of a rice bowl, forming a complex endgame.

Clearly, this was the famed Zhenlong Chess Puzzle.

Beside the board, seated on a stone bench, sat an old man.

His features were ordinary, his stature short, his frame thin, his face deeply wrinkled,

bearing the marks of time and hardship, his complexion sickly, further aged and worn.

Had it not been for the occasional glint of wisdom and depth in his eyes,

If not for the occasional glimmer of wisdom and depth in his eyes,

Who could believe this short, thin, withered old man was the famed Master of Eloquence?

“Ding the Weirdo is no ordinary man!”

Zhang Jie silently marveled at Ding Chunqiu’s formidable reputation—even from Starfall Sea in the far west,

he had managed to oppress his own brother-disciple, Su Xinghe, deep in the Central Plains.

As Zhang Jie studied Su Xinghe, Su Xinghe was studying him in return.

Gazing at Zhang Jie’s truly outstanding and elegant appearance, Su Xinghe’s face broke into a faint smile.

Without doubt, Zhang Jie’s appearance perfectly met the Xiaoyao Sect’s standards for disciples.

“I pay my respects to Master of Eloquence.”

Remembering his persona, Zhang Jie bowed to Su Xinghe.

But Su Xinghe showed no reaction, still smiling.

He, too, remembered his persona and never forgot his role as a deaf-mute.

“Master of Eloquence, what is this...?”

Zhang Jie’s face showed appropriate confusion.

“Master of Eloquence cannot hear, nor can he speak.”

Xue Muhua, in sync with his master, explained to Zhang Jie.

“I never imagined Master of Eloquence was deaf and mute—truly, heaven envies talent!”

Zhang Jie’s expression turned sorrowful.

“I never imagined a deaf-mute like Master of Eloquence could elevate his chesscraft to supremacy under heaven—I deeply admire you.”

As he spoke, Zhang Jie bowed again to Su Xinghe, with genuine reverence.

Watching Zhang Jie’s conduct, Su Xinghe and Xue Muhua’s impression of him improved further.

Who could fail to like a young man so strikingly handsome and so gracefully courteous?

Su Xinghe gestured to Zhang Jie, signaling the start of their game of weiqi.