Chapter 83: 82 No Longer Fleeing (Please Subscribe)

Son-in-law of the An Family, Guest Elder of the Mountain River Martial Arts Hall, and partner to Madam Zhushan—these were the three identities Song Cheng had acquired since walking out of Tanghe Village.

Being the son-in-law of the An Family allowed him to resolve the issues of his travel permit and establishing residency;

Being a Guest Elder of the Mountain River Martial Arts Hall allowed him to resolve the problem of being completely in the dark, unaware of the war situation outside;

Being the partner of Madam Zhushan allowed him to learn about another battlefield, and also enabled him to roughly understand the strategic situation through her.

Besides this, he could also be considered to have breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Because, after coming into contact with these forces, he began to discover that these high-level figures were a bit different from what he had initially worried about.

These forces were not useless bags of wine and rice, not constantly infighting, and not just famous in name only; rather, they could truly step up when things happened.

Up until now, whether on the front-line battlefield or the Ghost Servant battlefield, it was these three major forces that were resisting with all their might.

Just as Song Cheng was thinking this, the sedan chair had already entered the An Mansion.

Madam Zhushan wrapped her thick, dowdy robe tighter, then fixed her gaze on the youth with her fat face and said, "Hard work, Little Song. In the future, there will be many such sudden situations where you must accompany me at any time and place."

Song Cheng shook his head.

Hard work?

He wasn't working hard at all.

It was just Madam Zhushan pinning down all the targets, and him stepping forward to take them out one by one with a blade.

Where was the hardship? "The one working hard is you, Senior. You are silently guarding the Prefecture City, yet outsiders do not know," Song Cheng said with a smile.

In his eyes, Madam Zhushan was not his peer, but a senior with many stories.

Even though she had a seductive and charming side, she herself only treated this side as a killing move, not as the everyday her.

Usually, she was just an ugly, fat woman wrapped in a dowdy robe, her face ruined by special medicinal ointments.

Madam Zhushan said no more and got out of the carriage. Casting illusions was an exhausting matter, and the recurring side effects also made her feel unwell. Her body was not strong; even in terms of martial arts alone, even a rough village man holding a sickle could kill her.

Song Cheng also returned to his courtyard.

Ling'er climbed off the bed and directed the maidservants to boil water for the son-in-law to bathe. Song Cheng leaned back in the large ceramic vat of warm water.

The bright moon hung in the sky. In the eyes of ordinary people, it emitted a clear, bright moonlight, but in his eyes, it was a large ink blot that had fallen into water. Strands of ink were spreading out from it, like the twisted water weeds of a dark riverbed, like the smoldering long hair of a corpse in deep water, like the tentacles of demons and ghosts in unknown seas. 'What exactly is this world...'

Song Cheng watched for a while, lowered his head, and dove into the water with a splash.

He began to think about the future.

'Is it to flee, to flee, to flee, or to flee?'

This choice was not easy to make.

The youth murmured in his heart: 'Or perhaps, take root in one place and develop steadily?'

For the first time, a different thought arose in Song Cheng's heart.

It wasn't that he had been infected by the generosity and passion of others, but rather, if there were Ghost Tides everywhere and Ghost Servants everywhere, then instead of running around everywhere to constantly encounter brand-new, eerie environments and adapt to brand-new interpersonal relationships, it would be better to attract people and build the place where he was into an impregnable fortress.

The youth thought for a long time.

He murmured a sentence: "It seems, that's not bad either."

"Yawn~~"

The little tea girl yawned repeatedly. She didn't know what the son-in-law was muttering about, so she just said, "Son-in-law, would you like a midnight snack? The Temple Master sent over a lot of good ingredients, and everyone is in for a treat."

"Eat."

Song Cheng replied.

The little tea girl said "Oh," then ran off to prepare the midnight snack. Having been called up in the early morning, she was awake now, and since she was hungry, she might as well have something with the son-in-law.

Days were "peaceful" for two days.

Only, during these two days, the An family members were all very nervous. From time to time, someone would run out and ask anxiously, "Is it on fire?", "Is it burning?", "Such a strong burnt smell," and similar questions.

There was even one time when someone shouted "Fire!" and then many people came running over with water buckets and basins in their hands, looking flustered, only to be told, "There's no fire, disperse, disperse."

The An Mansion was just this "peaceful."

Boom! Another explosion rang out.

The iron furnace lid was blown away.

Tong Niangzi sat not far away, dumbfounded, watching the lid fly around in mid-air with a "woo-woo-woo-woo" sound, not knowing which piece of unlucky land it was going to smash into.

Plop.

The lid finally landed.

Tong Niangzi was so scared she covered her ears and dodged to the side as if electrocuted.

Under the eaves, Madam Zhushan was still in a heavy, dowdy robe, watching quietly. She sniffed, closed her eyes to think for a moment, then looked at Tong Jia and said indifferently, "Tell me where you went wrong this time."

Her calm voice was filled with the majesty of a teacher.

Tong Niangzi hurriedly climbed up, walked in front of Madam Zhushan, and like a child who had made a mistake, stated her thoughts one by one.

Madam Zhushan then patiently explained it to her, breaking it down and mashing it up, speaking slowly.

Tong Niangzi tried again.

This time, she succeeded.

The Young Mistress cheered.

Madam Zhushan also revealed a smile.

The master and apprentice walked to a spot and began to test the medicinal effect again.

In the dusk of twilight, the house looked like an old picture book, beginning to yellow.

Tong Niangzi suddenly asked, "Teacher, do I have any senior brothers or sisters?"

Madam Zhushan was silent for a moment, then said, "I actually didn't intend to teach anyone; teaching you was just an accident."

If it weren't for the fact that in the last wave of the Ghost Tide, the Ghost Servants were fierce; if it weren't for her medicine-person partner dying; if it weren't for her sensing this time that Ghost Servants wanted to attack; if it weren't for Song Cheng just happening to be a blind man of the Form Realm; if it weren't for so many "if it weren't fors," she wouldn't have come to make this deal, wouldn't have known Tong Jia, and wouldn't have discovered... actually, teaching someone is quite good.

Actually, she really needed to teach someone.

Tong Niangzi asked like a child: "Then, that means there isn't one?"

Lady Zhushan said: "No." Tong Niangzi giggled: "Then I am your first disciple."

Lady Zhushan seemed to be infected by her, and nodded gently.

However, she was not prepared to teach a second one.

The sources of her power and knowledge were all accidental, all ominous; although she only passed on knowledge to Tong Niangzi and did not pass on power, having such a student was already enough.

Thinking of this, she said sternly: "Rest a moment, continue."

But after speaking, she looked at the sun again, realized it was already dusk, and changed her words: "You go find little Song to eat first. After eating, we will study a while longer tonight. This master does not know how long I can teach you."

Tong Niangzi fell silent for a moment, then smiled and said: "Not eating with him, eating with Teacher."

As she spoke, she intimately took the arm of the ugly, fat woman wearing a dowdy, thick robe.

Lady Zhushan was stunned for a moment, instinctively wanting to get angry, to roar out a "Presumptuous," or to break free and reprimand her. But, in the end, she did nothing, just letting this disciple, who was much younger than her, hold her arm, and then, in a voice that was not so cold, she said softly: "Good."

Night fell.

People were quiet, the moon was bright.

Outside the gauze window, lotus leaves in the pond were vaguely visible.

Young Miss had too many things to do; a "nine-to-five" schedule was impossible. Recently, she had connected with the super channel of "Zhushan Temple" and was even busier, running here and there, and had not yet returned.

Ling'er was the head housekeeper of the Neizhai, running east and west, and also had no leisure.

In the small courtyard, the one accompanying Song Cheng had actually become Ying'er.

Ying'er practiced the saber.

Song Cheng was pushing "Old Man's Fist," practicing internally.

He had thought about it carefully later: if he were to "take root in one place and develop steadily," he truly had to be stronger.

But was he strong now?

Could he go and crush an army?

Did he have the guts to go alone with a saber, comb through Hanping Prefecture and its eighteen counties back and forth, and slash all the Ghosts to death? 'Still far from it.'

'Still not safe enough.'

The youth gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and moved slowly like a snail without emitting a shred of wind, but inside his body, he had already exploded; his power and Qi were like loaches newly dropped into a frying pan, dancing wildly like mad.

The night wind blew, a leaf drifted by and landed on his shoulder.

His heart stirred, his thoughts focused, and the power on his shoulder leaked out.

The fallen leaf seemed to have been strapped with a bundle of dynamite; it detonated directly, blowing away until not even dust remained.

Ying'er rubbed her eyes, thinking she had seen wrong.

Days flashed by, and another three days passed.

On this day, the matter of "Lady Zhushan taking a disciple" finally spread far and wide; the whole city knew, and the whole city was shocked.

That External Affairs Envoy Shi of the Mountain River Martial Hall seemed to have found a way in; he brought gifts to pay a visit. After finding Tong Niangzi, he had no airs at all, but from the perspective of an old father, in the manner of a clumsy-mouthed Martial Artist, he begged Tong Niangzi to be able to save his son.

Tong Niangzi had long known about this matter and said: "I will do my best."

External Affairs Envoy Shi was overjoyed and bowed deeply to Tong Niangzi.

On this day, the Prefecture City army that had been on an expedition for nearly a month finally sent back some news.

Bloody battle! Fierce battle!

The Prefecture army took action, and the Six Towns, which had been like turtles behind closed doors, responded from the rear, blocking the Barbarians' attack!

The whole city cheered.

However, "the whole city" only received "the news of good tidings and not bad that they were able to hear."

As for the worries, Song Cheng knew them clearly.

This military report was playing a word game.

"Blocked" was "blocked," but it didn't mention the corpses strewn across the battlefield at all, and it didn't mention that among the Northern Barbarians' Barbarian King and Four Golden Tents, only one Golden Tent King had taken action.

At the same time, Song Cheng also learned another important piece of information from Lady Zhushan.

That was, the highest realm of martial arts was actually just the realm above the "Form" realm.

People like the Big Hall Master and Laoduwu, although they could not be considered top-tier figures from the perspective of the entire Great Shang martial arts world, were existences in the same realm as those top-tier figures.

The strength of various major forces was actually more dependent on the "army" than on the "individual."

This made Song Cheng secretly heave a sigh of relief.

At the very beginning, he had thought that the Great Shang Dynasty at least possessed "Mysterious Grade" forces, but now it seemed that even if there were Mysterious Grade, they were very few.

Actually, thinking about it, it made sense. Why should the Martial Artists in the Imperial Capital be strong, and those guarding the border be weak? Isn't this backwards? Those guarding the border are meant to resist the Northern Barbarians; shouldn't they be stronger?

With Lady Zhushan there, Song Cheng's grasp of the overall situation began to deepen gradually. The thought of "fleeing" in his heart also grew weaker, because if he fled and changed places, it would be meaningless; it was really better to take root here and properly "farm."

On this day, at midnight.

Song Cheng was sleeping soundly pressed against Young Miss when he suddenly heard Lady Zhushan's voice from outside the door.

"Little Song, a guest has arrived."

Song Cheng pried open the snow-white long legs wrapped around his waist and replied: "Coming."

As he spoke, he quickly put on his clothes and pants, grabbed his saber, grabbed his shield, got into a sedan chair, and went to a desolate mountain and wild ridge, waiting until dawn to wait for six Ghosts.

Lady Zhushan performed the Fox Dance, and he struck quickly, finishing the battle in minutes.

The two got back into the sedan chair and returned to the residence.

The youth went to the bed to catch up on sleep, but Young Miss was already gone.

Husband and wife met rarely and parted often, both busy.

On the empty bed, Song Cheng rolled over, hugged his pillow, and fell fast asleep.

Even in his Dream, he was thinking about the martial Dao, thinking about becoming stronger.

Absorb everything, digest everything, deduce it to the extreme, and then let life settle down! (End of this chapter)