Chapter 3 Encounter by the Roadside

“Here it comes, your tea!”

Inside the small tea pavilion, the air buzzed with voices. Every table was packed to the brim, and some people had no seats at all, holding bowls from which they drank the cooling herbal tea, instantly dispelling the summer heat.

This spot was a crossroads of several roads, bustling with travelers moving north and south.

There were those visiting relatives, itinerant wanderers, and wandering performers of all kinds.

The tea pavilion was run by a family of three. At this moment, an elderly woman was brewing tea while her husband and son flitted about busily like butterflies amidst flowers, attending to customers.

“Waiter, bring a pot of good tea!”

“Right away, sir, please wait a moment!”

In the sweltering summer, having a shady place like this was a blessing for these travelers.

Some people nibbled on their own dry food while savoring the cool tea, while others preferred to engage in loud, expansive conversations.

“Do you all know? A major event has recently shaken the martial world!”

A man spoke mysteriously, trying to catch the attention of those nearby.

“Hey, who doesn’t know the Martial Assembly is about to be held at Yandang Mountain? At that time, countless experts from both the righteous and the underworld will gather!”

Someone nearby mercilessly shot him down.

“Who doesn’t know that? Why even bother saying it?”

The first man scolded in annoyance.

“Do you know about the ambush at Yandang Mountain twenty years ago?”

“You’re so rude! Such a famous event is known by everyone in the martial circles. Using it to attract attention is truly shameless!”

His retort only irritated those around, as if he alone possessed the knowledge, questioning others defiantly.

“Heh, today I’ll tell you something many don’t know.”

The man chuckled slyly.

“Do you know that Zheng Zhi, the Dragon-Hand, is dead?”

“Dragon-Hand Zheng Zhi?”

The surrounding crowd looked puzzled; many had never heard of the name.

“Are you talking about that one?”

But some did know his identity.

“Exactly. He was one of the survivors of the Yandang Mountain ambush twenty years ago. Zheng Zhi, the Dragon-Hand, withdrew from the jianghu over a decade ago to live in seclusion. But just a few days ago, when a friend went to visit him, they found he had been murdered.”

The man revealing this spoke with earnestness.

“This is absolutely true. I pledge my name, Little Whirlwind, on it.”

“Ah!”

Upon hearing this, the faces around changed instantly.

If it was connected to the Yandang Mountain ambush two decades prior, it meant a figure of great renown—and yet such a martial elder had been slain.

“Speaking of which, I once heard in Huayang City that just two days ago, Zeng Tieniu of the Guiyuan Fist was also killed. I was told he, too, took part in that fateful ambush at Yandang Mountain!”

Another person chimed in with the revelation.

With these words, the crowd dared not speak further. They were no fools—one death might be an accident, but several prominent survivors from that ambush dying in quick succession was no coincidence. They were common folk of the jianghu, often exchanging strange tales and gossip for amusement, but such matters could easily bring trouble. Naturally, they kept silent, pretending ignorance.

“Captain Shao!”

Under the shade of a nearby tree, Zhao Ze looked toward Mu Rongxun.

Since they were in a large group, they hadn’t gone to the tea pavilion but instead bought several pots of tea and sat in the cool shade nearby to eat and drink.

But martial artists had keen ears and sharp eyes; even at a distance, they had overheard the conversation.

“You know?”

Mu Rongxun tore off a piece of hard dry bread, popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly as he looked at him.

“The guild is keeping an eye on this, too.”

Zhao Ze’s expression was grave.

“These two deaths aren’t isolated cases. The earliest was half a month ago—Jiao Er, the Swift Protector, was killed. Then it was revealed that Monk Zhiguang was murdered, followed by Cold Moon Sword’s Huang Zhong, and now the Dragon-Hand Zheng Zhi and Guiyuan Fist’s Zeng Tieniu. In a short time, five people have been killed, possibly more we don’t know of. All were survivors of the Yandang Mountain ambush. Clearly, something serious is going on. Someone is targeting them.”

“How many survivors were there from the Yandang Mountain ambush? What really happened back then?”

Mu Rongxun frowned. He had only glanced briefly at those background stories and hadn’t paid much attention.

“Actually, someone sent secret letters warning the Central Plains martial world that a tribe of barbarian warriors from the steppes was heading south, intending to steal military secrets and incite discord among the Central Plains sects. So the Central Plains decided to strike first, ambushing them beyond the border to protect the homeland’s stability.”

Zhao Ze recounted the past slowly.

“At that time, several venerable masters rallied the factions with their prestige, gathering a hundred men to go to Yandang Mountain. But no one knows what happened there. Only twenty-one returned. The leading master committed suicide in shame. The others either retired to secluded forests or died from their injuries. To this day, very few of those twenty-one remain. Now, five have been targeted and killed. I fear very few survivors remain.”

“So even you don’t know what really happened back then.”

Mu Rongxun pondered.

“Did Master participate?”

“The Captain was heartbroken back then...”

Zhao Ze realized his slip and immediately fell silent.

“So Master didn’t participate because of heartbreak?”

Mu Rongxun mused.

“Was it because of Tiannv Peak?”

“Oh, you know about that!”

Zhao Ze breathed a sigh of relief. To him, it was improper to speak ill of Captain Shao, but it seemed less serious if the young lord knew.

“All I know is Tiannv Peak, but not the details.”

Mu Rongxun’s tone was calm.

“Back then, the generation from Tiannv Peak came into the world and conflicted with Captain Shao. But that woman was no good. Young Lord, if you ever meet people from Tiannv Peak, keep your distance.”

Zhao Ze said no more, still harboring concerns.

*Clatter, clatter, clatter!*

While they spoke, the sound of approaching horse hooves echoed nearby.

*Sigh~*

Pulling the reins, two figures stopped side by side.

A man dressed in green, wearing tight clothing, sat atop his horse with an air of superiority, surveying the surroundings.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have come from afar. Who would be kind enough to offer some convenience? I’m willing to pay ten taels of silver!”

Though he referred to himself humbly, his tone was disdainful, naturally placing himself in a lofty position.

The surrounding noise paused briefly, then resumed with renewed vigor.

Ten taels of silver was a handsome sum, but the condescending attitude was an insult to these wandering martial folk. The saying goes, poverty is no shame, but they ignored him outright—that was their stance.

Seeing himself snubbed, the man’s expression turned angry.

“Brother Yi, don’t stir up trouble!”

A woman wearing a bamboo hat and gauze veil stopped him.

“Let’s find a shady place to rest. With so many people coming and going, it’s inconvenient.”

“Miss Qin speaks wisely.”

Yi Tianxing smiled broadly, most of his anger fading. He scanned the area and found the spot where Mu Rongxun's group sat to be the best—beneath a large tree providing ample shade and space, unmatched nearby.

So Yi Tianxing rode directly before them, remaining mounted, looking down as he spoke.

“I am Yi Tianxing of the Sword Forging Manor. I see you all wear swords and knives, so you must be martial folk as well. How about making things easier? You’ve eaten enough; why not set off early? I offer compensation and, on behalf of Sword Forging Manor, owe you a favor.”

He believed his words balanced kindness and authority, reasonable and fitting.

Mu Rongxun glanced at Zhao Ze but said nothing.

Zhao Ze knew Mu Rongxun’s temperament well and understood his meaning immediately, signaling someone in the crowd with his eyes.

“A brat from nowhere, daring to disturb our Captain Shao’s rest? Get lost!”

A man in the crowd stood, swept out his sleeve with inner force, and blew Yi Tianxing off his horse.

“You...!”

Caught off guard, Yi Tianxing fell, though as a martial artist with tough skin, he was unharmed. His neatly groomed hair was now disheveled, leaving him looking utterly embarrassed.

The Angry Dragon Gang laughed heartlessly, showing no mercy.

“Sword forgers should stick to forging swords instead of running around causing trouble!”

Zhao Ze scolded without reservation.

“You...!”

Yi Tianxing was furious but had little to say. The others outnumbered him, and some were experts. He thought invoking the Sword Forging Manor’s name would earn respect, as it had before, but now he was dumbfounded by this blatant disrespect.

“Have you all passed through?”

The woman stepped forward, dismounted gracefully, and cupped her fists in greeting.

“If you refuse to yield the spot, then refuse. Why torment Brother Yi like this?”

“Miss Qin...”

Seeing her approach, Yi Tianxing’s eyes flickered with shame. Being humiliated before the woman he admired, he hated these people in his heart.

“This brat insulted us with such vile things. We’re lucky he didn’t draw his sword. What do you say?”

Zhao Ze stood up, blunt and unyielding.

“Um...”

The woman was at a loss for words and looked at Mu Rongxun.

“Is this really how Captain Shao leads his men?”

“Do you know Captain Shao?”

Zhao Ze was puzzled.

While some in the greenwoods recognized Mu Rongxun, most in the martial world had only heard his name and never seen him. But now this woman recognized him at a glance, which was highly unusual.

“I was fortunate enough to see a portrait of Captain Shao once.”

She nodded but refused to reveal her identity.

“May I ask your name, miss?”

Zhao Ze cupped his fists respectfully, following jianghu etiquette to inquire about her origins.