Chapter 209: Who Rejoices, Who Grieves

The moon rose as the sun set; the river’s turbulence had long subsided, yet the clamor along its banks continued unabated—even the evening’s steady autumn rain failed to dampen the crowd’s enthusiasm.

Lying in the room, raindrops tapped lightly against the window, and faintly from afar came the murmur of voices:

“Incredible…”

“Even Ye Sheng, the Martial Ancestor, probably couldn’t have done better…”

“Hua Ruyue is definitely Xie Jinhuan’s mistress—she forfeited her own match to let a man compete, then rushed up second to help him up just now…”

“Who was the first black-clad female swordsman? Her veil hid her face, but her figure and aura weren’t inferior to Hua’s…”

“Who else? Her lover, of course. With a man like Xie Shaoxia, there are plenty of sisters vying to dote on him…”

“Xie Lang~ Xie Lang…”

…

Xie Jinhuan had overtaxed his body so severely he lost consciousness before collapsing; when his spiritual sense finally stirred again, he found himself in a refined room fragrant with incense—silent within, yet hundreds, perhaps thousands, seemed to have gathered outside the estate, and he had no idea what time or place he was in.

“Gūjī?”

Perhaps sensing his awakening, the pitch-black Meiqiu landed beside the pillow, leaning forward to inspect him, still clutching in her mouth a half-broken, withered vine she’d torn apart out of boredom…

“Holy shit—?!”

A sharp cry erupted from the room!

Xie Jinhuan sat bolt upright as if rising from a deathbed, seized the damned servant, and carefully examined the vine—only to realize it was just some broken scrap of grass vine he’d picked up somewhere…

Seeing she’d startled Xie Jinhuan awake, Meiqiu shook her head and tugged at his sleeve, gesturing toward the door to eat.

Xie Jinhuan nearly died of fright; realizing it was just Meiqiu’s antics, he exhaled in relief and collapsed back onto the bed:

“Where’s Bing Tuozi?”

“Gūjījī…”

Meiqiu flailed her limbs wildly, clearly not making sense, then bounced out the door as if summoning someone.

After a moment’s recovery, Xie Jinhuan’s mind cleared completely. He checked his inner state and found his tendons and bones still injured, but his internal wounds mostly healed—likely from some expensive elixir.

Realizing his foundation wasn’t damaged, only requiring rest, he relaxed inwardly. Glancing around, he saw the Zhenglun Sword, Tian Gang Club, and Minglong Spear all placed on the table, and called out:

“Wife?”

“Mmm~”

A reply came from inside the bed.

Xie Jinhuan turned his gaze and saw the seductive, bone-melting A Piao lying on the inner side of the bed, cheek propped on her hand, the autumn quilt draped under her armpits, her bare shoulders and arms like carved white jade, her front a dazzling expanse—though partially obscured by the quilt…

?!

Xie Jinhuan instinctively pulled back the quilt to look inside, but she held him back; he could only ask:

“Where are we? Did anything else happen after the match?”

“The county, Zihui Mountain’s base.”

Ye Hongshang twirled a strand of hair between her fingers and briefly recounted what happened after the match.

After he knocked Wei Yin flying with a single punch, the outcome was clear; Zhang Guan of Zihui Mountain ordered his disciples to bring Xie Jinhuan here to recuperate, and the champion’s prize was taken by Zhang Guan, who would later deliver it to the capital.

After the match ended, the assorted sects and wanderers didn’t disperse immediately; the Seven Martial Heroes convened again at Fengbo Tower, but Xie Jinhuan’s unexpected rise had thrown their discussions into disarray—they likely reached no satisfactory conclusion.

Wei Wuyi had set up such a grand stage not merely to reward the younger generation.

Originally, Wei Wuyi intended for Wei Yin to make a name for himself, so the Great Qian court would recognize Xueying Ridge’s potential for the next century.

With Wei Wuyi having trained a disciple capable of reaching the pinnacle of martial arts, and the Daoist sects having fallen into disarray, it would be unjust not to appoint Wei Wuyi as Supervisor—after all, the court couldn’t expect the disciple to pledge loyalty in the future while giving the master nothing in return.

But this black horse emerged, stole all the spotlight, and the future Martial Champion would have nothing to do with Wei Yin—his plan had collapsed entirely.

Seeing Wei Wuyi had little chance of gaining decision-making power, the Seven Martial Heroes clearly wouldn’t rush to flatter or pledge loyalty.

Of course, these were merely surface motives and outcomes; deeper “grand strategies” lay hidden—hard to discern from appearances alone.

After the Dragon Head Meeting concluded, the major sects gradually departed, but the wandering cultivators stayed behind; many gathered outside the base of Zihui Mountain, half of them curious female swordswomen.

Just from the noise outside, Xie Jinhuan felt he could step out and pick a concubine at will—but with A Piao present, he couldn’t be too greedy.

After finishing her account, Ye Hongshang glanced at Xie Jinhuan, then raised an eyebrow:

“You did well today. Want a reward?”

Xie Jinhuan was already thinking the same; he rolled over:

“What reward?”

Ye Hongshang lay back on the pillow, offering herself up with a sultry expression, puckering her lips:

“Mwah~”

?

Xie Jinhuan hadn’t expected his ghost wife to be so considerate; he no longer held back, rolled over, and braced his hands on either side of her flower-like face:

“I’m really kissing you.”

Ye Hongshang murmured “Mmm~,” closed her eyes, and slightly tilted her cheek upward in anticipation.

Xie Jinhuan felt something was off—ghost wives never gave things away so easily—but he cautiously leaned in, and to his surprise, her lips were truly soft and moist, like orchid and honey…

Huh?

Xie Jinhuan’s eyes lit up; he no longer held back…

…

Tap-tap-tap…

The street outside buzzed with noise; the estate remained quiet.

Nan Gongye finished arranging his disciples’ affairs, warned everyone not to approach or leak any news, then quietly carried a pot of soup he’d personally stewed, tiptoeing toward the guest room, while Meiqiu went off to challenge A Cai.

Outside the eaves, autumn rain fell steadily; inside the guest room, silence reigned.

Nan Gongye reached the door, recalling Xie Jinhuan’s desperate, bloodied struggle today, and couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity. She assumed the boy would now be weak and listless on his pillow, struggling to rise upon seeing her, offering a warm, pleading smile for praise.

But when she pushed open the door, she saw a muscular, shirtless young man, hands braced on either side of the pillow, facing empty air…

??

Nan Gongye froze mid-step, her icy beauty’s eyes widening—she’d thought Bai Yuehua was in bed, but upon closer look, the bed was empty!

“Xie Jinhuan?!” “Uh…”

The man on the bed stiffened, then smoothly transitioned into push-ups, rising and falling on the mattress:

“Just stretching my limbs—I got distracted…”

“Really?”

Nan Gongye wasn’t some naive girl; just now, Xie Jinhuan’s posture was unmistakably that of kissing a girl!

Could it be… this brat, having tasted pleasure, is waiting for me to come…?

Thinking this, Nan Gongye hesitated to enter—but seeing Xie Jinhuan straining with his push-ups, she stepped inside and kicked the door shut with her foot:

“Lie still. You’re injured all over—why are you torturing yourself? Don’t your arms hurt?”

Xie Jinhuan’s arms were nearly cramping, but he couldn’t collapse—he had to explain his bizarre behavior. When Bing Tuozi approached, he stopped his pose:

“Minor internal injury, nothing serious. Where were you just now?”

Nan Gongye couldn’t admit she was the head of this place; instead, she lifted the soup, blew on the spoon:

“I spoke with a senior from Zihui Mountain. Rest here tonight; tomorrow Zihui Mountain will arrange a boat—I’ll escort you back to the capital.”

She brought the spoon to Xie Jinhuan’s lips, intending to nourish him—her posture was both like a motherly classmate and an icy wife…

Xie Jinhuan’s heart stirred, but fearing discovery, he took the spoon first, drank, then asked:

“Where’s Sister Hua?”

“She can’t sit still—went out sightseeing.”

After feeding him, Nan Gongye still looked puzzled:

“What was that ‘Dragon Soul Hidden Meridian’ technique you used today?”

“Just some fortune bestowed by Qixia True Person—I made up the words on the spot; it works even without chanting.”

Xie Jinhuan gave a casual explanation, glancing out the window:

“No one’s bothering us, right?”

Nan Gongye blinked, slightly wary:

“You’re resting—normally no one comes. But if someone does…”

Seeing no one arrived, Xie Jinhuan relaxed, took the bowl, and drank it down in one gulp—“Tōng tōng tōng~”—then set it down and pulled Bing Tuozi close.

Nan Gongye expected this; her gaze turned cold:

“What are you doing? You’re injured!”

Xie Jinhuan paused his motion, leaned against the headboard, and picked up the Fire-Blazing Pill.

“Huh?”

Nan Gongye, who had been coldly distant, saw this fool risking his life—she immediately seized his wrist holding the “Instant Ice-Crushing Pill”:

“Are you insane? Can you even handle it now?”

“You have important business by month’s end—this poison isn’t cured. If I lie here until then, what’s the point? Don’t worry—I can handle it…”

“Handle what?”

Nan Gongye had agreed with the demoness to duel after securing the Zhuque Tomb’s opportunity—but reaching Zhuque Tomb required first removing the poison. If she let the demoness act, she’d be completely manipulated; she had to rely on this boy.

But Xie Jinhuan was this badly injured—even with the finest elixirs, he needed two days’ rest. How could he endure the fire poison again?

Nan Gongye wanted to forbid it outright, but Xie Jinhuan had performed astonishingly today—and she hadn’t even praised him. It might crush his confidence. After a moment’s hesitation, she took the pill and tucked it away, sitting beside him in silence, a faint hint of annoyance in her brow.

Xie Jinhuan saw her expression and understood: he was to take what he wanted himself. Satisfied, he pulled her close, bent down to taste her lipstick, and slid his hand beneath her black skirt…

“Mmm~?”

Nan Gong Ye noticed the boy was becoming brazen; he tried to push him away, but this damned brat went off to find medicine again, so he could only close his eyes and endure silently. Moments later, his hand rose unconsciously, resting on the man’s shoulder, the sleeve sliding down to reveal a ink-wash bracelet, glinting in the lamplight.

Rustling…

—

Pattering…

Rain slid down the tiles, forming a curtain, striking the blue bricks of the old street.

Soldiers from north and south gathered in teahouses and taverns, discussing today’s battle; some Sect Masters and Clan Leaders led their teams back to base, while the street occasionally echoed with the thunder of large cavalry hooves:

Clip-clop, clip-clop…

A carriage passed through the county streets, surrounded by dozens of Jiangzhou Clan disciples dressed in fine clothes and riding spirited horses.

Inside the carriage, Liang Yue of the Black Yin Clan sat by the window, bare-chested, his chest and abdomen wounds bandaged, his brow heavy with worry:

“With Xie Jin’s cultivation, he won’t stop at just wiping out the Black Yin Clan. This boy despises evil without mercy—if he discovers that Clan Master Xu has ties to the Southern Frontier, he’ll surely pursue it to the bitter end…”

After his defeat, Liang Yue did not flee; he hid within the Jiangzhou Clan’s base. After all, this was Da Qian territory—he was exposed and wounded; if he stepped beyond Sanjiangkou, he’d almost certainly be beaten by both righteous and demonic factions combined. Without Jiangzhou Clan’s protection, he’d never survive to return to the Southern Frontier.

Xu Guan could shelter Liang Yue because their clans had business dealings: through sea routes, he traded Jiangzhou’s cheap daily goods for the Southern Frontier’s cheap medicinal herbs, secretly smuggling untaxed goods—profits far exceeding those from shipping in Da Qian by a hundredfold.

The Black Yin Clan began as sea pirates; their reputation was already terrible. Now that Xie Jin had issued a threat to crush them, given his demonstrated power, it would take only one or two years.

When the Black Yin Clan falls, their hidden partners will inevitably be exposed.

Xu Guan competes in influence; Xie Jin holds the Imperial Sword. In martial skill, Xie Jin rivals a demon—he ranks as the youngest among the Seven Martial Titans…

If Xie Jin catches even a shred of evidence, wouldn’t he crush Xu Guan like a soft persimmon and seize all illicit gains to uphold his reputation as a hero?

Xu Guan had no personal grudge against Xie Jin, but the situation was clear: he dared not strike a covert blow against someone the imperial court valued so highly. He could only frown deeply in thought.

After speaking for a while, Liang Yue added:

“Almost every problem in the world stems from insufficient cultivation. If Clan Master Xu could advance further, even if Xie Jin wanted to pursue justice relentlessly, he’d fear the wrath of ‘a common man’s rage, blood spilling five paces.’ The Phoenix Tomb has been emitting strange phenomena frequently—this year, its great fortune must manifest. With your cultivation, Clan Master Xu surely understands how immense the benefit would be…”

Xu Guan understood perfectly: even without considering the divine effects, merely nurturing his body with it could break through his foundational bottleneck and allow him to advance further.

But the Five Directions’ Divine Gift was not eternal; its power diminished with use, never increased. The more it was used, the greater the depletion. For instance, the Northern Xuanwu’s life-extension effect—if a cultivator surpassed his natural lifespan yet possessed too high a cultivation base, the life-extension depletion far outpaced the body-nourishing depletion.

This led to the Northern Ming Lake becoming a “Graveyard of Immortal Ascensions.” Any old turtle clinging to life with this artifact must surface to fight for it—and most perished there. The past two decades have been quiet because the Wu Sect rebellion nearly wiped out the elder generation; the new leaders were young, their own lifespans far from their limits, unwilling to die fighting there.

The Phoenix Tomb’s fortune was relatively easier to obtain—after all, “rebirth through nirvana” sounds impressive, but if someone could kill you, would they be foolish enough not to simply take the fortune?

Thus, historically, this divine effect had rarely been used. Its low depletion meant large reserves remained, giving low-level cultivators a chance to obtain it.

But large reserves didn’t mean inferior power—if the rumors were true, anyone might descend.

If Xu Guan rashly left his seclusion to seek the treasure and was caught by Elder Sikong, he might become one of the “Seven Titans’ Puppets,” endlessly admired and toyed with by Elder Sikong…

But if Xie Jin grew stronger in a few years and came after him, and his cultivation remained insufficient, he wouldn’t even have the right to “spill blood five paces”—he’d be utterly at their mercy…

After long deliberation, Xu Guan asked:

“Are you certain the information is true?”

Liang Yue nodded. “Ninety percent likely true. Our Clan Master stumbled upon it accidentally—the news hasn’t spread yet. With your cultivation, Clan Master Xu should be able to enter early and secure it without difficulty.”

Xu Guan fell silent for a moment, then gave a slight nod and said nothing more.

…

Gurgling…

The cavalry escort followed the carriage, leaving Jiang’an Town, boarding ships to sail south.

On the city wall, Bu Yuehua stood in the rain, wearing a veiled hat, observing Jiangzhou Clan’s movements through a long-range lens. She saw Liang Yue hidden among the group, whispering constantly to the leader, and frowned. After brief thought, she turned and headed toward the Zihui Mountain base…

—

A Guan’s typing speed is truly eight hundred characters per hour. Yesterday I posted today’s chapter, so today I have to write today’s—and tomorrow’s too. Word count is light, sorry or2!

(End of Chapter)