CHAPTER 552: CHAPTER 550 SWORDSMAN

Chenzhou Bridge, a wooden and stone structure with eleven arches and twelve piers, was built by the previous dynasty. It underwent major repairs a few years ago when a shelter was added on top, forming a covered bridge. The exterior of the covered bridge was painted red, and long benches were installed on both sides of the interior for pedestrians to sit on.

The flower-selling girl was resting on one of the benches. In her bamboo flower basket, only one or two dewy flowers remained, presumably because the Qixi Festival had arrived, and more flowers could be sold.

One coin, two coins...

Her fingers, hidden in her sleeves, gently played with the coins in her coin purse, careful not to make any crisp sounds.

The flower-selling girl breathed a sigh of relief and tightened her coin purse. She shifted slightly, resting her hands on the railing of the covered bridge’s bench, looking down at the tranquil flowing surface of the river below. Her face showed a warm, contented smile, like that of a weasel that had stolen a chicken.

After calculating, she had finally saved up a little bit of money. Right, today she would buy half a portion of roast duck for her younger brother and sister; they had been clamoring for it for a long time, saying they wanted to eat it. And she could also buy a portion of osmanthus cake from Liufang Zhai for her mother—her father had bought some back before he passed away, and it was sweet, although a bit sticky. Right... she still had to thank Taoist Head Luo. He helped them find a place to stay and cured her mother’s chronic illness. She really didn’t know how to thank him properly... Thinking of Luo Siyuan’s smile, the flower-selling girl didn’t know why, but she felt her face grow hot.

She turned around, lowered her head slightly to conceal the warmth on her face, and hugged her flower basket back to her chest, gently swaying her feet one in front of the other.

A deep and hoarse male voice sounded beside the flower-selling girl. She instinctively turned her head. A young man dressed as a fortune teller, holding a banner, was speaking to a middle-aged man seated next to him.

"You’re here," the fortune teller, or rather, Li Ang, said indifferently to Wanli Fengdao. "You’re thirty seconds later than planned."

"Got held up a bit on the way." Wanli Fengdao exhaled a turbid breath and said in a low voice, "Old Xing has gone upstream to disperse the civilians on both banks. Miss Liu is already at the town’s ramparts on standby. Now, we just wait for them to come."

To disperse civilians?

The flower-selling girl felt puzzled. Glancing out of the corner of her eye at the two men’s attire, which didn’t seem to be that of officialdom, she wondered, Could it be they were the undercover cavalry of the Wude Guard?

Eavesdropping on conversations is not a good habit, especially those of two suspicious individuals. If the content of their conversation involves secrets, it could bring about deadly danger.

The flower-selling girl’s heart skipped a beat. She stopped swaying her legs, kept a composed expression, silently gripped her flower basket, preparing to stand up naturally, as if she had rested enough, and leave.

Wanli Fengdao sat on the bench of the covered bridge, leaning back and resting his arms on the railing. He carelessly crossed his legs, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, and lazily remarked, "It’s just like..."

"Like what?" Li Ang asked casually.

"Like reality," Wanli Fengdao said, nodding towards the passersby in the covered bridge. "Peddlers and laborers, scholars and fine ladies, young children, and the elderly—everyone in this world has their own joys and sorrows. So vivid and lively."

Li Ang prodded his banner. "Isn’t that the case with scripts from the past too?"

"It’s different this time," Wanli Fengdao shook his head. "Past scripts either represented a complete world themselves or were a narrow space with an invisible barrier, one from which you couldn’t escape. This time, however, it’s just a pure dream. It gives me a weird feeling, as if there’s some inexplicable fear."

Li Ang smirked indifferently. "Are you worried that the real world might also be the dream of some high-dimensional being? That’s just people making their own trouble. You can’t prove you’re not a brain in a vat anyway—such paradoxes are inherently infinitely recursive. Moreover, even if reality is a dream or an alien’s reality show, you’re probably just an inconsequential side character off-screen, not subject to any mental manipulation."

Wanli Fengdao raised an eyebrow. "Why do I have to be the side character?"

"Do you really think your life is so fascinating that you could be the protagonist?" Li Ang calmly retorted. "I shouldn’t think there’s a high-dimensional being that would enjoy watching a crude man who goes two or three days without washing his hair, a week without changing his underwear, orders takeout for every meal, and spends his free time lying on the sofa picking his feet and then sniffing his fingers."

Wanli Fengdao opened his mouth, his face displaying the classic expression of "I’m pissed, but I can’t find a reason to argue."

Li Ang laughed casually and looked up, as if peering through the arch of the covered bridge towards the sky. "All right, they’re here."

He put down the banner and flexed his fingers. Under the curious gaze of the flower-selling girl, he conjured a black cloak from thin air and draped it over himself.

The shifty-eyed man beside him (Wanli Fengdao’s eyelid twitched) let out a long sigh of relief and silently drew his Waist-side Long Sword.

His action caused the pedestrians around to scream in alarm. Wanli Fengdao ignored the gazes of the civilians on either side, stood in the middle of the bridge, gripping the hilt of his sword, and stared at the river in front of him.

What was he looking at?

The flower-selling girl, carrying her basket, retreated with the flustered crowd, but a question arose in her mind.

And then, she knew the answer.

HUMMM—

A faint trembling sound came from the distant river, like a herd of thousands of horses running across it, or like rumbling thunder carrying its sound along the water’s surface.

"What is that!" someone on the bridge cried out, as they saw a layer of pitch blackness on the distant river.

That black mass flowed along with the current, writhing up and down. Even a distant glimpse could bring a strong visual impact and make one’s insides churn with discomfort.

"That is..." The flower-selling girl involuntarily shivered.

As the distance closed, the blackness on the river grew taller and thicker. It was like a constantly rising tide, soon surpassing the spires and buildings on both banks.

Finally, the people on the bridge could see what was on the river—it was an endless number of ink-black, legless Human-faced Tadpoles, each possessing hands. They were tightly packed on the water’s surface, clustering together, flailing their arms unconsciously, bobbing with the current.

AAAH!

The Human-faced Tadpoles slapped the water and one another. Drawn by the rich scent of living humans from the shore, they let out the sharp, piercing cries of infants. All the cries combined, soaring to the heavens, deafening, and drowning out the screams and cries of the mortals on both banks of the river.

Blood, life, Soul, slaughter. Unable to suppress the throbbing deep within their souls, the tadpole monsters trampled over each other, awaiting the surge to crash down, smashing them heavily onto the banks to slaughter the panic-stricken citizens of Chenzhou.

"I have to say, it really is quite a spectacle," Wanli Fengdao genuinely marveled, his lethargic eyes instantly turning incredibly sharp.

He reversed his grip on the Longsword, and with an upward slash that flew through the air, he cut open the eaves of the covered bridge. With a stomp of his foot, he leapt from the bridge, diving toward the river surface.

He didn’t hit the water. Just as he was about to plunge into it, a platform made of green vines rose from the slightly turbid bottom of Ling Shui River, holding him steady.

"I haven’t drawn my sword to cut something in too long." Wanli Fengdao slowly straightened, gripping the hilt, the blade of his Longsword pointed straight at the formidable tide ahead. His expression was stern as he murmured, "I’d almost forgotten I’m a Swordsman..."