106: Chapter 104: Got a Nickname…

106: Chapter 104: Got a Nickname…

Zhao Changhe pondered that one finger technique over and over again, lost in thought.

If considered from this perspective, the significance of this gold leaf’s image replay at the level of the Earth List was actually quite small, because it could only replicate moves and techniques, and it was impossible to demonstrate to you the flow of someone’s cultivation technique or how they achieved the marvelous utilization of light refraction.

But that didn’t mean it was without value; at the very least, the hand movements, angle, and even the entire body’s coordination for that one-fingered sword technique were all artistic, worthy of careful study.

Her way of utmost softness, the idea of spring water…

Zhao Changhe watched it repeatedly, his hands unconsciously simulating the intention of that sword, always feeling as if he could learn something, yet unable to grasp it for the moment.

After all, it was contrary to his usual methods.

Yet, as long as he could truly learn even a trace of that technique, his broadsword skills should be able to take a significant leap forward.

He watched for three to four hours, until he almost remembered the fingerprints on Tang Wanju’s jade fingers clearly, when Zhao Changhe suddenly realized—the battle between him and Han Wubing previously had only vague images, but now it was getting clearer and clearer, so clear that he could even see the soft light in Tang Wanju’s eyes distinctly.

Does this mean…

over time, this gold leaf was also slowly recovering?

Uh…

he hadn’t watched anything for this long in modern times, and here he was staring at every gesture and angle of Tang Wanju’s entire body for hours.

It was a good thing nobody saw it; otherwise, it would have been way too creepy.

He didn’t expect that the person whose body details he was now most familiar with was not Chichi, but Tang Wanju.

If she knew about this, how could he show his face…

Zhao Changhe covered his face, grabbed his belongings, and left the house; he couldn’t stay any longer.

He would ponder it on the way…

“Let’s go,” he patted the head of his horse, Wuzhui, “to Jiangnan.”

When leaving the house, he habitually filled his wine gourd to the brim.

While watching the servant fill the wine, Zhao Changhe was somewhat spaced out, and also self-mocking.

In fact, during this encounter, from beginning to end, Xia Chichi had not paid any attention to this gourd.

She herself hadn’t kept this casually bought wine gourd in her heart, nor did she think that Zhao Changhe, after going through so much blood and storm, would still have it unbroken, assuming it had long been replaced.

Only he was always building his own barriers, like a joke.

But it didn’t matter; the commemoration was his business, not something done for her to see.

As long as the gourd wasn’t broken, it would always be there.

…

If the location of Ancient Sword Lake were to be compared to the geography familiar to Zhao Changhe in the modern world, it would roughly correspond to somewhere between Huainan and north of the Huai River.

Unfortunately, in this world, there appeared to be no Huai River, an extremely important boundary river between the south and the north.

But waterways, large and small, still sprawled across the region, crisscrossing water routes, including a Grand Canal that ran directly from the Capital to Jiangnan.

Along the rivers and the coast, it was bustling without compare, with Cao Gang, Salt Gang, and various other large and small gangs and sects dominating this land.

However, this was the paper impression Zhao Changhe got from browsing through books and various cultural introductions.

When he truly set forth heading south on his horse, what Zhao Changhe felt was actually desolate for thousands of miles.

Just coming out from the prosperous Qinghe County and Sword Lake City, he thought the journey would become increasingly beautiful and prosperous.

Instead, the more he traveled, the more dumbfounded he became, finding that, let alone comparing it to Qinghe County and Sword Lake City, it couldn’t even match Wei County.

At least, when crossing the river back then, he still felt the sense of fishermen’s songs at dusk.

Even if it was pretense, it wasn’t all false; if there usually wasn’t such a scene in the river, they wouldn’t choose that way to pretend, right?

But what was this now?

After traveling south for several days, Zhao Changhe hadn’t even seen a slightly prosperous town.

The villages he passed through were dilapidated, with people thin and sallow, in ragged clothes, and thatched cottages so frail they looked like they’d collapse in a gust of wind.

Is this really the scene one should see around the canal transportation?

Even that desolate small city near Beimang wasn’t this bad…

Looking at the group of thin bandits in front of him who wanted to stop him to rob his horse, Zhao Changhe didn’t even want to draw his sword.

Wasn’t he a mountain bandit too?

He had almost resorted to highway robbery before…

Luo Qi had even gone to do it.

Everyone was just trying to survive.

He shook his head, chopped down a small tree beside him to show he wasn’t just posturing.

In the rapidly terrified gazes of the bandits, he sighed and said, “I don’t want to kill you…

Let me ask a few questions.”

Someone cautiously replied, “My lord, we have no money left, and there are no women.”

“…” Zhao Changhe pinched the bridge of his nose, “Is this Jianghuai?

You’ve got to be kidding me…

Why has it come to this?”

“The flood two years ago, last year’s locust plague, this year was supposed to be better, but now it’s the lean period, isn’t this how it’s supposed to be?”

“Are the officials not distributing relief?”

“Yeah, they are, they just came to collect the poll tax yesterday.

That’s why we headed to the mountains.”

“…” Zhao Changhe looked up at the sky and remained silent for quite some time.

In fact, there should have been an anticipation of this.

Everyone was saying “chaotic times are impending,” but what he had seen in the past, other than the Luo Family Manor massacre case, made it hard to substantiate the judgment that such chaos was approaching.

If you were just talking about the bloody and brutal jianghu, it did seem chaotic, but that was far from real chaotic times.

Only when he truly saw this scene did he realize what a harbinger of a collapsing edifice looked like and recognized that the imminent chaotic times everyone spoke of were definitely not unfounded.

This was Jianghuai territory!

If even this place had deteriorated, could it really be sustained by tourist projects like Sword Lake City…

Xia Longyuan had been a mighty sovereign, the decades since the founding of the nation were supposed to be the pinnacle of order emerging from chaos, so why had things deteriorated to such a state?

Zhao Changhe’s thoughts turned to Tang Wanju’s laborious work draped over the paperwork, thinking to himself that no matter how much you manage worldly affairs, it’s still just a temporary solution and not addressing the root cause.

Your effort is probably in vain.

You want me to act the prince and stabilize the world, but I doubt I have such capabilities.

Perhaps Chichi was right; since the Xia Family’s world had already decayed, there was no point in preserving it.

After a long thought, he suddenly asked, “Places like the Cao Gang should be quite important here, no?

You’ve got the strength, why not try to join these gangs?

Is there a problem with them too?”

The bandits looked at each other before one of them spoke, “We wanted to find some work with the Cao Gang too, but everyone’s got elderly members at home…”

As they were speaking, someone ran down from the mountain, panting, “Big brother, big brother!

Uncle’s asthma is acting up again…”

The bandit’s expression changed dramatically, “Do we still have any talisman papers from Maitreya Buddha?”

“They’re all gone!”

“Quick, go and report to the Upper Buddha, we’re joining the sect!”

No one paid attention to Zhao Changhe anymore, and he didn’t try to dissuade their desire to join the Maitreya Sect.

Such occurrences were likely common across Jianghuai, and any interference would be pointless.

Moreover, from the looks of it, the Maitreya Sect was probably past the stage of generously bestowing kindness to bewitch people’s hearts and was nearly ready to play its hand openly, or else these villagers wouldn’t have hesitated before joining the sect.

He quietly urged his horse forward, eventually arriving at a river.

The river held only a decrepit boat, an elderly fisherman toiling with his nets, without a sight of any beautiful boatwoman—such things existed only in the dreams of a prosperous era.

“Where do you think you’re going, you thief!” A loud shout came from across the river; Zhao Changhe turned to see a burly man with a sword chasing a lean man.

The lean man’s qinggong was extremely good; he flipped through the air multiple times and lightly touched the water, managing to walk on water and flit by like a skimming swallow, passing close by Zhao Changhe.

Zhao Changhe had been inwardly cheering him on, not looking to get involved in others’ affairs—who knew who was in the right?

But as the lean man passed by Zhao Changhe, he saw the look of surprise in his eyes and his magical hands even took the liberty of snatching something from Zhao Changhe’s embrace, clearly having noticed the superior quality of the horse, believing its owner must be wealthy.

Zhao Changhe sighed and his fist, large as a vinegar bowl, smashed into the lean man’s face.

Who could the thief have expected to randomly encroach upon a personage from the Hidden Dragon List on the road, even less expect that punch to carry a bit of the Earth List’s third-ranked prowess?

In mid-air, no matter how good his qinggong was, he couldn’t evade in time and was punched so hard his face blossomed with injury, screaming as he plummeted back into the river.

The burly man waded over, delighted at the scene, and proceeded to kick, breaking the lean man’s leg.

Zhao Changhe narrowed his eyes at the action, saying nothing.

This was also a ruthless man; his own help wouldn’t be much of use.

The big man thanked him with a bow and a smile, “Many thanks to this brother for coming to my aid!

I am Wan Dongliu from the Cao Gang, may I have the honor of knowing your illustrious name?”

Cao Gang…

Zhao Changhe wasn’t planning to mingle with the Cao Gang at the moment, and was about to brush it off when he heard the thief crying out in pain, “I, I remember now…

Black horse, white hooves, broadsword with unusual patterns, a face with a scar, you, you motherf***er are the Bloodthirsty Shura Zhao Changhe!”

Zhao Changhe, who had been immersed in melancholic emotions, suddenly had all feelings collapse, nearly tumbling off his horse from the abrupt dissociation.

Wait, wait a minute, what did you call me?

If I give you money now, can you change that ridiculous nickname?

————

PS: Third release, begging for monthly tickets, boo hoo hoo~