Chapter 7: Night Intrusion into the Ximen Mansion

At night, Zhang Jie, lying in bed in the Water Margin world, suddenly opened his eyes and sat up sharply.

“So it wasn’t a dream!”

Zhang Jie extended his right hand, feeling the real, tangible power within, and a faint smile curled at his lips.

In that moment, Zhang Jie felt an overwhelming urge to let out a long, roaring cry to the heavens.

Who knew how long it had been since he last felt such vitality?

Since arriving in the Water Margin world, ever since he could remember,

he had truly been unable to lift even a light load, unable to carry anything on his shoulders, utterly powerless.

On ordinary days, he couldn’t even dream of riding a horse or shooting an arrow—just walking a few steps left him gasping for breath.

If not for the vast wealth of the Zhang household sustaining him, he would have died long ago.

Now, Zhang Jie wanted nothing more than to vent all his past grievances!

But the next second, he swallowed back the breath rising to his throat.

Little patience disrupts great plans; this restraint now is for a greater explosion later.

Zhang Jie knew that reckless outbursts now would only expose his true strength and hinder his future development.

“Yet wealth unshared with one’s homeland is like walking in brocade at night.”

Even the Western Chu Overlord, who declared, ‘Live as a hero, die as a ghostly champion,’ could not endure such a fate.

Tonight, I must do something!”

Feeling the explosive power within his body, Zhang Jie now saw every object as a nail,

and he was desperate to test his newfound strength.

Then, a single figure quietly surfaced in his mind.

“Ximen Qing, you have courted death.”

Zhang Jie muttered to himself.

Ximen Qing’s past actions were no different from mounting his head to defecate.

Before the golden finger arrived, he had no power, at a disadvantage,

and had been forced to endure, swallowing his teeth and blood, waiting for a chance to retaliate.

Now that the golden finger had come, if he still endured, wouldn’t the golden finger be wasted?

Zhang Jie felt as if possessed by Jia the Leader, who, blessed with the divine beauty of Yan Zu and Tian Le,

ventured alone into enemy territory to pursue the “indirect path to salvation”:

“Before the golden finger came, you, Ximen Qing, bullied me.

Now that the golden finger has come, you, Ximen Qing, still bully me—then what good is the golden finger?”

Zhang Jie, who knew that enduring one moment only made him angrier, and retreating one step only made him feel more cheated, decided to send Master Ximen on his way right now!

Zhang Jie tiptoed silently off the bed,

took from the bottom of the wardrobe the nightclothes he had long prepared, and put them on,

then arranged pillows and clothes into a human shape to make others believe someone still slept in bed.

“Creak—”

Dressed in disguise, Zhang Jie gently pushed open the window, channeled the inner power shared by Zhang Jie from the Heaven Sword world,

and, light as a spirit cat, floated down silently from the second floor.

“Good, no one around.”

Zhang Jie scanned the surroundings, confirmed no one was near, then lightly tapped his toes and headed toward Ximen Qing’s home.

“Master Ximen, I’ve come!”

……

Bang bang～

“Dry weather, watch your candles～”

Bang bang～

“Dry weather, watch your candles～”

In the deep night, the streets were silent except for the distant clatter of the night watchman’s wooden clappers and his warnings about fire.

“Huh? What’s that ahead?”

Suddenly, the night watchman spotted a dark shadow flickering across the street ahead.

But when he focused his gaze,

he saw nothing but scattered leaves and trash on the ground.

“Did I imagine it?”

The watchman wondered if age had dimmed his eyes.

“Alas! Time spares no one!

It’s time to find a successor.”

The watchman shook his head and sighed, then dismissed the matter and continued his rounds.

Bang bang～

“Dry weather, watch your candles～”

……

Zhang Jie did not know his movements had nearly been spotted by a watchman,

for now he was lost in the thrill of lightning-fast movement.

“The Cloud Ascending Ladder is truly an unparalleled martial art created by Master Zhenren.”

Zhang Jie marveled at the Cloud Ascending Ladder’s effect.

He roughly estimated his speed just now—it approached fifteen meters per second!

The world record for the hundred-meter sprint on his former Blue Planet was only 9.58 seconds.

That record was set by Bolt, the once-in-a-generation genius of sprinting.

Even now, no one was expected to break it within the next decade.

Yet Zhang Jie, merely activating the Cloud Ascending Ladder, had already surpassed that record—how could he not be ecstatic?

“And this inner power, as a transcendent force, is truly extraordinary.”

Zhang Jie marveled at the inner power flowing through his body along the Cloud Ascending Ladder’s path,

generated by the Wudang Nine Yang Art.

If the Cloud Ascending Ladder were a supercar with a 0–100 km/h time under 3.8 seconds,

then inner power would be its custom-made super fuel.

Without this fuel, even the most powerful martial art would be nothing but scrap iron.

Zhang Jie let out a roar like Dio’s:

“Ordinary humans have limits—I am no longer ordinary!”

In the brief moment Zhang Jie was lost in thought, he had already arrived before the five-compound mansion of Master Ximen.

“Killing Ximen Qing is the priority.”

Zhang Jie snapped back to focus, walked confidently to the outer wall,

lightly tapped his toes, and leapt over the three-meter-high wall into Master Ximen’s estate.

Why was Zhang Jie so familiar with Master Ximen’s home?

Zhang Jie shrugged: Our ancestors long ago taught us—know yourself and know your enemy, and you will win every battle!

How could you invite Master Ximen to eat a bullet or ride a flying earth machine if you didn’t know the terrain?

As Zhang Jie skillfully passed through each courtyard gate, he sighed inwardly:

“Speaking of it, Master Ximen is truly worthy of his fame across Yanggu,

Qinghe, and several other counties—he is extravagantly wealthy!”

Master Ximen’s mansion spanned five courtyards, with dozens of rooms.

Not only did it boast a garden bursting with blooming flowers, but even the pond was sizable.

This was no mere Shandong landowner’s compound—it was clearly a Suzhou garden of a Jiangnan scholar-official!

“Yet only a mansion this large could house the entire Ximen household.”

Zhang Jie understood.

Master Ximen currently had one wife and five concubines, plus dozens of servants.

A smaller house could never accommodate so many.

Not to mention Master Ximen constantly sought new homes for his brothers.

Without enough rooms, how could he take new concubines?

What surprised Zhang Jie was that the side chambers of the Ximen household still glowed with candlelight in the deep night,

soft candlelight shimmering through the windows.

“If Master Ximen isn’t enjoying his wives and concubines, why is he still awake in the side chamber at this hour?”

Zhang Jie’s curiosity surged.

He silently approached a window, undetected, then channeled his inner power into his fingertips,

and poked a small hole through the windowpane, which was glazed with oil-soaked paper.

He pressed his eye to the hole and took in everything within the side chamber.

Two men sat atop grand armchairs, clad in silk and brocade.

Naturally, they were the target of Zhang Jie’s mission—Master Ximen.

Standing below, slightly bent over, wearing a fawning smile,

was, according to Zhang Jie’s investigation, Master Ximen’s personal attendant, Dai’an.

His clothes were slightly disheveled, with kiss marks on his neck and face,

and a strong reek of alcohol and cosmetics clinging to him as Master Ximen sipped hot tea:

“Have Lord Liu and Lord Xue been arranged for?”

“Father, I’ve paid the madam to secure the girls Lord Liu and Lord Xue favored,

ensuring both gentlemen enjoy a splendid night.”

Dai’an replied with deep respect.

“Excellent.”

Master Ximen nodded in satisfaction.

He had promoted Dai’an to his personal attendant not only because the boy’s appearance suited his tastes,

but also because Dai’an was sharp and capable.

Master Ximen set down his teacup and lowered his voice to ask:

“Have Lu Hua and Zhang Sheng been assigned?”

Dai’an patted his chest confidently: “Father, rest easy—

I’ve had them watching the Zhang household day and night without pause.

Should Zhang Jie so much as stir, you’ll know before he does.”

“Damn!

I knew today’s watchers—day and night—were no coincidence,

it’s your doing, Master Ximen. You’ve earned your death.”

Zhang Jie cursed inwardly, then sentenced Master Ximen to death by Tang Shenwang’s standard.

Yet he found it amusing that Dai’an had such high hopes for Lu Hua and Zhang Sheng.

Lu Hua and Zhang Sheng were nicknamed Grass Snake and Street Rat,

names that screamed of lazy, good-for-nothing ruffians who lived only to eat and sleep.

Expecting them to watch Zhang Jie was like expecting Zhang Jie to show up and announce his whereabouts himself!

After all, these ruffians weren’t like those in Bianliang, loitering near the Grand Buddha Temple,

who’d castrate Gao Taiwei’s son Gao Yana for the sake of a little honor.

Before coming to the Ximen household, Zhang Jie had already visited these two ruffians.

Lu Hua and Zhang Sheng were passed out drunk, hugging wine jugs and snoring loudly.

“Dai’an, you’ve done well. I’ll reward you—come here.”

Satisfied, Master Ximen patted his thigh, signaling Dai’an to sit on his lap.

“Yes, Father.”

A soft, seductive smile appeared on Dai’an’s face.

“Holy shit!

Master Ximen doesn’t just like married women—he’s into men too!”

Watching Master Ximen’s lewd grin and Dai’an’s bashful blush,

Zhang Jie, who understood exactly what was happening, was deeply shaken.

Yet such pederasty seemed common among the powerful,

and self-styled literati often maintained intimate relationships with their pageboys

and personal attendants.

Seeing Dai’an already begin to undress, Zhang Jie—who had planned to eavesdrop further

for any secrets—knew he could wait no longer,

or he’d soon witness firsthand what “ancient chivalry” truly meant.

All he wanted now was to confirm that “chrysanthemum” was a flower, not an organ.

“Pssst!”

Zhang Jie jabbed a finger, snapping the window latch, pushed open the window, and leapt inside.