"You can't interfere with gang affairs, but once everything is on track, there'll be plenty of silver coins for you every month. Isn't that a real bargain?"
Wang Anfeng saw the sincerity in the young girl's eyes, yet he remained unmoved.
After thinking for a moment, he put away the wooden sword he was holding, and bowed with his hands clasped:
"I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I can't agree."
The girl's eyes widened as she said:
"What, what did you say?"
Wang Anfeng stepped to the side, picked up the teapot on the table to pour some tea, and said in a calm and gentle tone:
"We will be heading back to Fufeng City shortly."
"Even if it's a big trade, can it compare to Fufeng Academy?"
The girl had a touch of irritation, feeling that the young man before her was unappreciative, but the words "Fufeng Academy" quenched her anger. She looked at Wang Anfeng again, his demeanor was calm, and with his extraordinary swordsmanship, it was clear he was not from an ordinary background. Their gang was strong within North Martial City, but how could it compare with a top-tier power like Fufeng Academy?
Plus, with her uncle's strict control, she wouldn't force the issue.
At that moment, as she saw the young man before her offering a cup of clear tea, his expression clean and peaceful, he spoke evenly:
"My master is in the next room."
"Why not wake up the master? If the young lady can persuade him, I will naturally obey."
Teachers from the Academy were, at the least, Seventh Rank martial artists.
The girl felt blocked in her heart, realizing that the young man before her was subtly threatening her. Scowling, she stamped her foot and gave Wang Anfeng a scornful look, then turned and leaped out of the window, disappearing in a few quick movements with her qinggong.
Wang Anfeng watched the girl leave, the smile on his lips slightly subsided.
Although what she had said was vague, the young man surmised that this series of moves was probably prepared the day after the Great Elder's birthday celebration, a plan marked by ruthless vision and decisive action.
Moreover, it was hard to say that North Martial City was the only arrangement.
As thoughts swirled in his mind, the young man drank a sip of tea and sighed softly.
The storms of Jianghu are harsh indeed.
The slash from the Great Elder had shattered far more than just the skyscape across three thousand miles.
In a small courtyard within the city.
Zhu Zhirong avoided the patrol officers on her way and landed softly in front of the door. Thinking back to her encounter with the difficult-to-deal-with Wang Anfeng, she felt a suffocating frustration that was hard to dispel. She raised her hand and lightly knocked on the door; moments later, it was opened with a creak.
The girl made her way to the inner courtyard and indeed, the main house was still brightly lit, casting its glow on a tall figure sitting at the desk, reading by night. The frustration in her heart dissipated, replaced by a sense of stability as if the mere sight of the figure meant that no matter the number of difficulties ahead, nothing was insurmountable.
She quickly approached the door, knocked, then took a step back, smoothing out her clothes to settle a few unruly strands of hair, when a hearty laugh came from inside:
Zhu Zhirong responded and entered, instinctively slowing her pace as she reached the main room's side chamber to see a tall man, eight spans high, with a handsome and respectable appearance.
Though he was over thirty years old, he showed no signs of decline, rather exuding a mature aura, as unyielding as a rock, as if the presence of thousands of troops in front of him wouldn't make him flinch.
Upon her entry, the man laid down his book, chuckling:
"What took you so long to return?"
Zhu Zhirong looked down at her toes, slightly embarrassed, and muttered:
"It was that Wang Anfeng..."
She then relayed the entire recent event. The man's expression grew contemplative, and after a moment's pause, he shook his head and laughed:
"Victory and defeat are the common lot of the Military Family."
"It's not a concern; we have other plans ready anyway."
"You must be tired today, go and rest."
Zhu Zhirong nodded, obediently left, not noticing that a jade bead had silently fallen from her body, rolling towards the middle-aged man's feet, flashing a faint glow that indicated it was not ordinary.
Within Shaolin Temple.
A scholar in a blue robe had a cold and mocking smile at the corners of his mouth.
Recalling past experiences, his face betrayed a hint of nostalgia, but such reminiscence made him appear even more cold and arrogant, almost as though he stood alone against the world.
Without notice, a thick mask appeared in his hand, which he casually placed over his face, changing his aura, now even more reclusive and dominant.
The time had come to begin...
Back in North Martial City.
The jade bead at the man's feet suddenly shone brightly, and despite his Seventh Rank martial arts cultivation, he had no time to react before being engulfed by its light.
In the sudden change, the man's heart pounded, his inner qi refused to obey, and in an instant, his feet touched solid ground again. With his rich experience, he immediately dodged to the side, eyes wide open.
Raising his right hand, he drew a short stick from behind and pulled it from both ends to form a spear, the air around him charged with intense battlefield aura.
Looking up, his expression changed dramatically.
All he could see was a vast and desolate Great Desert, reminiscent of the Great Qin frontiers where he had once fought bloodily. A figure in a blue robe stood with crossed arms, its face covered by a hideous mask, seamlessly part of the world, with an unfathomable presence.
In his youth, he had followed the Great Marshal on expeditions against the Xiongnu, seeing masters in the army confronting foreign warriors mid-air, but even those masters, whose gestures could unleash dragon-like Qi Force, had never given him such a terrifying sense of oppression, as if he was not facing a person, but the entire world in front of him.