Chapter 228: Exceptional Acting

The three in the carriage never expected her to dare pull back the curtain directly; Song Bei's pupils shrank sharply, and he froze completely, only snapping back to himself and immediately trying to drag Pan Yun away.

But as he rose, Zhu Zixun, seated in the center, sneered and slapped a palm straight at Pan Yun's face. "Rude brat!"

Pan Yun merely leaned back slightly, then reached out and slapped the inside of the carriage.

Song Bei's face turned ashen, and he shouted, "Wait!"

But the two qi waves had already collided—BOOM! —the shockwave erupted, lifting the entire carriage except its base.

The two men on either side of Zhu Zixun had already used their internal qi to shield themselves when he struck; the instant Pan Yun responded, they intensified their output—so the carriage exploded with a CRASH, scattering in all directions; apart from Song Bei falling with a THUD, both remained unharmed.

Not even a splinter landed on them.

Pan Yun stood beside the carriage; the shattered vehicle veered away from her, soaring into the air, then clattering down.

A perfectly good carriage had instantly disintegrated—only the base and the bench stuck to their buttocks remained.

Zhu Zixun and Pan Yun gazed at each other, one above, one below, eyes blazing.

In Zhu Zixun's fiery gaze, Pan Yun curled her lips, then formed a hand seal before her chest, staring straight into his eyes: "Fusheng Wuliang Tianzun."

Zhu Zixun felt a fire surge to the crown of his head; without thinking, he slammed a palm straight at Pan Yun's skull. "Rude brat! I'll teach you proper manners—on behalf of your masters!"

This time, Pan Yun did not meet him head-on; instead, she leapt backward, landing on a cargo cart. Calmly, she ground her sole against the hardness beneath, grinning. "Looks like this good man loves to be a teacher—loves being a master. Too bad… too bad…"

She hadn't cursed him—but with that mocking expression, Zhu Zixun's rage boiled over.

He chased after her relentlessly, determined to strike.

This time, Pan Yun did not dodge; she charged forward. The two clashed midair—palm against palm, fist against fist—with a series of THUD-THUD-THUD impacts.

Zhu Zixun used six-tenths of his strength, only to find Pan Yun blocking every strike and punch—so he increased his internal qi.

When he unleashed full power and kicked out with a leg, Pan Yun countered with a kick of her own; their legs collided midair, qi waves churning, and Zhu Zixun was flung backward.

Pan Yun also flew backward; as she struggled to stabilize, she caught sight of the cargo cart below—her eyes flashed, and she shot backward with a WHOOSH, CRASHING into the cart's left side.

The cart swayed—just as it began to steady, Pan Yun, inwardly anxious, slammed her palm hard; the entire cart lifted with the sway, CRASHED onto its side, and Pan Yun tumbled into the pile of boxes atop it.

When Song Bei rose, supported by A Xin, he saw the two locking legs midair before both flew backward.

Zhu Zixun flew backward, snapping a tree, then CRASHED into another; but Pan Yun…

Song Bei's eyes widened, and he roared, pointing at Pan Yun: "Quick! Protect the boxes!"

Faster than A Xin were Seeing Miao Zhen and Miao He; the moment the carriage shattered, they'd leapt up, standing on tiptoes on the cart to watch the spectacle.

When Pan Yun landed on the cargo cart and clashed with Zhu Zixun, they paused only a moment before rushing forward.

So when Pan Yun flew backward and smashed into the cart, they were already at her side.

They rushed to support Pan Yun.

Pan Yun saw them, her eyes brightened, grabbed Seeing Miao Zhen's hand, and gave her a meaningful glance.

Seeing Miao Zhen fixed her gaze on a tipped-over box, pressed close to it under Pan Yun's cover, gripped the lock, lowered her eyes, and focused—gently prodding it with a thin iron wire.

The box clicked open…

A Xin had already rushed forward with men; the guards originally assigned to watch these carts had been knocked over by the qi waves and were all injured.

Miao He, sweating with anxiety, hugged Pan Yun and burst into loud sobs. "Little Master, my little master is hurt—"

Seeing A Xin charging forward in three strides, Pan Yun hesitated, then gritted her teeth and slapped herself.

She spat a mouthful of blood—directly onto the rushing A Xin.

Miao He wailed even louder: "WAAAAAH—"

She clung tightly to Pan Yun, blocking A Xin's touch, shouting: "You evil people, picking on the young! Can't argue with my little master, so you hit her? Do you even have shame?"

A Xin's face turned black, but he could only soothe: "Little Daoist, let us take Sanzhu Daoist to a physician. These boxes are blocking the way."

Miao He hugged Pan Yun, sobbing, ignoring him.

Seeing Miao Zhen retorted: "You said they're in the way—why don't you move them yourself? You want my little master to move them? Are you taking advantage of her youth?"

A Xin: "I didn't mean that. Moving these boxes takes time. Sanzhu Daoist lying on them isn't comfortable—why not carry her aside?"

Miao He finally found her opening: "No! You stinking men aren't allowed to touch my little master! And we don't even know where she's injured—how can we move her carelessly?"

Song Bei, enduring pain as he repositioned his dislocated arm, heard Miao He's wailing and thought Pan Yun was dead; forgetting his waist injury, he leaned on a guard and hurried over.

Most urgent: get them away from the boxes before anyone noticed anything strange.

As Song Bei approached step by step, Seeing Miao Zhen's forehead beaded with sweat; she strained for a long time, back turned to the box, finally slipped her hand inside—felt something hard, like iron.

She had no time to think; grabbed two or three items, shoved them into her jade tablet's space, yanked her hand back, closed the box's half-open lid, shoved back the guard reaching to lift Pan Yun, let her body fall backward onto the box, and with her other hand, snapped the lock shut—twisted, aligned the core, pressed—click. Seeing Miao Zhen's hands were free; she and Miao He immediately shoved A Xin angrily: "Don't you dare touch my little master!"

Song Bei, face dark, stepped over scattered boxes: "Si Shui, Wu Huo—don't forget you're employed by me. If you disobey orders and damage cargo, can you afford to pay?"

Seeing Miao Zhen glared: "That old brute bullied my little master, hurt her, and overturned the carriage—why aren't you demanding compensation from him? Why come after my little master? Are you also bullying us because we're young?"

Song Bei choked. He saw many watching him—even merchants trailing behind had rushed along the roadside to gawk, held back only by a few guards.

He forced a smile: "You misunderstand. I'm merely concerned for Sanzhu Daoist. Her face is pale, she spat blood—clearly internal injury. My team has a physician. Let me take her to the carriage for treatment."

Seeing Miao Zhen: "That's better. My little master is injured—can't be moved carelessly. Must be gentle!"

"Yes, yes," Song Bei signaled A Xin. "A Xin is strong, skilled—he'll carry Sanzhu Daoist, very steady."

Miao He: "He smells bad."

A Xin: …

Seeing Miao Zhen finally looked at A Xin, frowned, sniffed: "No. When was the last time you bathed?"

Pan Yun also recoiled, coughed weakly, clutching her chest: "No… no need. I can walk myself. I can…"

!. Read

Before she finished, she swayed, half-fainting.

A boy hiding in the crowd stepped forward, shouting over the guards: "Let me carry her."

Pan Yun tilted her head, looking at the boy.

Their eyes met—both saw calm composure in the other: one without pain, one without worry. But as they raised their gaze again, one's eyes filled with agony, the other's with sorrow.

The boy said, "I ate one of the Daoist's steamed buns, so I'll repay the Daoist."

Song Bei didn't want strangers near the crates, but he feared even more that a long night invited trouble; moreover, the few people were all right under his nose, so he wasn't afraid they'd play tricks.

The crates, however, were urgent and had to be inventoried at once, so he nodded and said, "Let him in."

Xue Shao walked in and assured the few people, "I'm very steady too."

He stepped onto the crates and walked forward, his gaze sweeping over the locks of several crates, then bent down and gently lifted Pan Yun into his arms—sure enough, very steady.

Xue Shao stepped down from crate to crate, walking steadily, and so very slowly.

Pan Yun coughed a few times and transmitted her voice through Qi: "If you keep going this slowly, Song Bei is going to suspect you."

Only then did Xue Shao quicken his steps, as if he had suddenly found a steady foothold.

Xue Shao, holding her, asked Song Bei, "Which carriage should I carry her to?"

Before Song Bei could finish saying to send her to his own carriage, Pan Yun weakly said, "I, I want to go back to my own carriage."

Song Bei said helplessly, "Fine, I'll have the Physician come take Daoist Sanzhu's pulse."

Xue Shao then carried Pan Yun to her carriage. Along the way he passed seven freight wagons, and his gaze couldn't help but flick toward the wagons beside them, only pulling his eyes back once they reached Pan Yun's carriage.

Pan Yun was set down on the carriage, her head resting on Miao He's lap, and she asked in a tiny voice, "Are those freight wagons good-looking?"

Xue Shao took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at the corner of her mouth, then replied softly, "The fourth wagon from here going down, and the fifth from the end in the back half, are different from the others. Just now when you all were fighting, the drivers of those two wagons shifted them over by more than a zhang to the side, and the two people riding in your carriage teleported onto those two wagons, each guarding one."

At this, Pan Yun's gaze sharpened slightly.

Xue Shao rose and said softly, "Daoist, focus on healing. I'll take my leave now."

Pan Yun pressed a hand to her chest and said weakly, "Many thanks to the kind one for the help. I still don't know the kind one's name, so I may repay you in the future."

Xue Shao said, "This one's surname is Xue, given name a single character—Shao."

"Young Master Xue, this poor Daoist is Sanzhu."

Xue Shao couldn't help but laugh, and asked, "May I ask Daoist Sanzhu's family surname?"

"I have no surname, but my master's surname is Pan."

Xue Shao simply called her, "Daoist Pan, if you need anything you can come find me directly, I'll be right at the back."

Pan Yun nodded.

Xue Shao turned and left under the guards' watchful gaze.

Zhu Zixun had also been helped back; he had vomited blood too, and compared with Pan Yun, he truly was ashen-faced, his lapels covered in the blood he himself had spat up.

Xue Shao walked past him, unobtrusively pulling his gaze back, lowering his eyes to conceal anything unusual. To be fair, that little Daoist was not only remarkably skilled in martial arts, but remarkably skilled in acting too.

Good night.

(End of chapter)