Chapter 590

Epilogue · The God of Wealth and the Beggar Spirit (Part One)

Among the mountain ranges that once bordered the territories of the original Guo and Chen states, there were many Jianghu Sect Sects, hidden within, and over the past several centuries, these Jianghu Sect Sects had enjoyed unparalleled glory.

"In those days, our sect stored all kinds of Wu Gong manuals, housed countless martial experts, divine weapons, and in the chaos of the age, wandering heroes roamed the four corners—some upholding justice, others wielding their martial prowess to dominate regions—each finding their own place."

"When fame and fortune were achieved, one would wash one's hands clean of the martial world, retire into seclusion, take on two or three disciples, and roam freely among mountains and rivers—how elegant, how delightful, how joyful!"

"But that was only in the past."

"Nowadays…"

"Nothing like it anymore."

On Qingshan, in a pine forest, an old man leaned on his staff and sighed deeply.

Thinking of past glories, he merely sighed again—today, the realm was unified, laws were strict, order was stable, wandering heroes had gradually lost their former glory, and with the Qin Huang's comprehensive system for nurturing children, it was now hard to find any willing to join their mountain sects.

The sword was sheathed, the realm was pacified.

The martial world?

The martial world is gone.

No more reckless brawling, no more sword-wielding freedom—now, even finding a disciple is difficult. Only a few years have passed, and though the major sects still appear glorious, internally they already sense a growing gap between the old and the new.

Only by lowering the threshold for mastering advanced martial arts can they attract disciples.

"Hey, with the realm now pacified, for us… is it really…"

"Is the martial world going to disappear?"

His gaze fell into the mountains; the disciples around him fell silent. Wind swept over the cliffs, trees rustled, leaves trembled—one leaf spun down and landed in the stream, sending ripples across its surface.

Soon, those ripples were shattered by iron hooves.

Boom!!!

The hoofbeats were not dense, nor were they fast—but heavy, steady. These were Qin Huang's warhorses. A group of over a dozen men rode ahead, their leader a burly man with temples gone white, forehead lined with wrinkles, as if he often frowned in deep thought.

Logically, the mountain path was rugged, full of changes, streams, and boulders—unsuitable for warhorses—but every rider in this group possessed exceptional horsemanship, navigating the forest as if walking on flat ground.

Especially the middle-aged man at the front.

His shoulders relaxed, his demeanor calm—he held the reins with only one hand, idly.

He made no gestures, gave no whistle, waved no whip; even the hand holding the reins showed no visible effort—yet the horse responded with uncanny intelligence, leaping or halting as if guided by his own limbs.

If a top swordsman achieves unity of man and sword, then this man's horsemanship could rightly be called unity of man and horse—especially since, while effortlessly guiding his heavy warhorse through mountains and valleys, he also extended a finger, pointing enthusiastically at the surroundings, saying:

"That way, thirty li out, you'll find the Qin Huang's most stable iron mine—the one General Nangong found when he got lost."

"Here, ha! When we were on a forced march with Your Majesty, we got stuck right here—General Nangong got lost, then jumped off the waterfall. We were terrified, scrambling down in panic—guess what happened?"

"Hey, we were frantic, but he? Nothing happened."

"He broke through another realm."

"For a while after, every brother wanted to jump off cliffs—Master Yuwen Tianxian scolded us all to our faces, hahaha—especially that brat Yuwen Hua…"

As this man laughed recalling old tales, he only then realized, belatedly, that those companions were gone. What had once been cherished, laughter-filled stories now felt like hidden knives.

Lei Laomeng's mouth moved faster than his mind—he only felt the faint ache in his heart after the words were out. Fan Qing had lost an arm; their master had been killed; Yuwen Hua, who'd once bickered with him and challenged him to secret duels, had died at the hands of former comrades.

Every time he recalled the past, his heart ached.

People say that after enduring a thousand sails, one sees fame and success—but no one says that when you turn back, your old friends are forever gone.

Lei Laomeng's smile no longer carried the careless, unrestrained Mu Zi Yi of his youth—back then, he was young, stout and strong, his laughter louder than an ox's bellow.

Now he was different.

He was a Bo now.

In his youth, he had ridden with the young Qin Huang across ten thousand mountains—his once lean, strong frame had gradually grown soft over the past two years; his temples had turned white, yet his eyes now held a measure of authority.

Perhaps the only thing unchanged was the mastery of horsemanship he displayed when mounted.

Since entering the mountains and circling through several Qin Huang mines, meeting old comrades, Lei Laomeng had raced straight toward a specific location, stopping only to pull out his map several times for comparison.

"About right—this is the place."

"Tsk, how did Miss Nangong just vanish off like that? Huh, wonder what happened."

Lei Laomeng muttered, guiding his scouting troop through winding paths until they finally found it—a secluded spot surrounded by mountains, thick forest, and a river flowing nearby.

In this flat land encircled by mountains stood a Daoist temple.

The temple was quiet; outside its gate, several young girls in Daoist robes practiced sword forms, others prepared medicines; on the roof of the inner hall, a Daoist woman lay sideways, one hand propping her chin, yawning as she flipped through Daoist scriptures.

On a nearby tray lay sliced apples.

Cut into little rabbits.

The woman lazily picked up the rabbit-shaped pieces with a toothpick and put them in her mouth.

Chew. Chew.

Beside her, a young girl obediently massaged her master's shoulders.

So comfortable. So languid!

The woman stretched luxuriously and murmured, "So this is what it's like to be a master?"

Lei Laomeng's lips twitched.

Though that person over there had disguised their face—the still-world's most beautiful face—and studied astrology to obscure their fate, Lei Laomeng would recognize that lazy, catlike posture even if reduced to ashes.

He halted his warhorse, stared at her, and drew a deep breath.

Inner Qi surged violently as he bellowed: "Miss Nangong!!!"

"Long time no see—are you well?!"

"Hahahahaha!"

The woman lounging in the sun nearly leapt upright, eyes wide; the tray of apples nearly slipped from her side—the expressionless girl snatched it up in a flash.

Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop.

The remaining five apples were caught steadily.

As for that last one—

The spinning apple slice fell down.

The Daoist-robed woman tilted her head back and opened her mouth; a mouthful of snow-white teeth caught it precisely, then she tossed it up, swallowed, chewed, chewed, her body flipping off the Daoist temple's roof, but she twisted midair, borrowing force lightly, spiraling down in a graceful descent, incomparably elegant.

"Phew, that was close, that was close, almost wasted it."

The woman in the Daoist robe swallowed the apple, clapped her hands, then raised her brows. Even after the disguise, those eyes had seven-tenths of their original brilliance hidden, yet this glare still carried the full bearing of a beauty.

The little girls inside this Daoist temple looked at the newcomers. The jianghu and the court always seemed like two clearly separate worlds; over a dozen burly men riding military horses showing up in front of their small sect made them more than a little afraid.

But that sect-master Master paid it no heed at all. She rolled up her sleeves and charged over huffily, kicking the front burly man in the shin. The latter grimaced in pain and said: "I say, General Nangong, we've been through life and death together, it's been so long since we met, why start hitting people the moment we see each other?"

"Lady Nangong, Lady Nangong, I'll call you Lady Nangong."

"Lei Laomeng, is there no brake on your mouth?"

Nangong Wumeng ground her teeth.

Lei Laomeng saw that Nangong Wumeng's expression was as usual, and exclaimed in admiration:

"This Gongsun family's disguise mask really works well!"

It can even hide Nangong girl's blushing!!!

Nangong Wumeng's right hand rested on the sword hilt, displeasure in her eyes: "What did you say?"

Lei Laomeng took the hint obediently: "I mean, General Nangong, you've been cultivating your character lately, your temperament has really improved!"

Only then did Nangong Wumeng move her hand from the sword hilt and say: "That's more like it. Boss Lei, if you're coming, just come, why did you bring these dozen-plus scouts?"

Lei Laomeng said with a grin: "Hey, we've had so many years of friendship, would I harm you? It's Lord Right Chancellor who said, Miss Nangong mentioned that thing, how's the preparation going? He wants me to come take a look."

Right Chancellor Yan Daiqing—this youth who single-handedly managed the Fire Qilin Army's internal affairs and logistics back in the day—is now a contemporary famous scholar, gentle and refined, renowned throughout the realm. Of course there are also some unofficial histories and wild tales saying the current Right Chancellor is best at ruthless and ingenious stratagems.

For example, that great fire back then that burned away the Western Regions' eastward ambitions, and Yu Langwang's schemes—that was the Right Chancellor's fire.

Nangong Wumeng seemed a little disappointed. She twirled a strand of hair by her temple and said: "Oh, that thing, easy to say. Back in the day when I roamed the world, I had everything prepared long ago."

"Come over."

Lei Laomeng came down with a grin, had the accompanying scouts take out lots of candies and fruits and distribute them to the children. He, meanwhile, went with Nangong Wumeng to the inner hall. Nangong Wumeng casually took out a scroll, twirled it, and tossed it to Lei Laomeng.

This scroll was very heavy, very thick.

Lei Laomeng slowly unrolled the scroll and saw that inside were drawn maps of mountains and rivers, the nine provinces and four seas, with extremely clear scales. What was especially terrifying was that it almost encompassed all the mineral deposits and resources of the entire realm.

Very detailed.

One could imagine how the person who drew this scroll, over six or seven years, had measured this entire realm with their own footsteps, carrying a smile, carrying earnest thoughts, imagining how happy the person receiving this gift would be.

Stroke by stroke, ink by ink, the realm they had walked together was recorded.

Clumsy, earnest, and painstaking, hard-working.

She had always been watching Your Majesty's figure running.

Nangong Wumeng sat in the Master's chair and poured herself tea.

A rough fellow like Lei Laomeng stroked this scroll that must have cost endless blood and sweat, sensing the friendship within every stroke, and even he felt a wave of emotion. It was precisely he who knew the hardships of this journey, and said:

"So this is the realm you personally walked and personally drew for Your Majesty."

"Is this the dowry you prepared for yourself?"

"Nangong."