With Senior Brother Wang Pangzi, a local snake, leading the way, Fang Yuan felt a few degrees more confident about tonight's trip to the Black Market. He only hoped everything would go smoothly.
As evening fell and the sky gradually darkened, a plain blue-canopied carriage silently stopped near the side gate of the Martial Arts School.
The curtain lifted, revealing Wang Pangzi's round face. He urged in a lowered voice, "Junior Brother Fang, get in!"
Fang Yuan nodded and quickly climbed into the carriage.
It was still that seemingly low-key yet quite comfortable carriage, and the driver was still that middle-aged man in fitted clothes, arms wrapped around his saber, with a steady, hardened aura.
By now, Fang Yuan's discernment was no longer what it had once been. Looking again at Uncle Zhang, whom he had once regarded as an expert,
the sense of oppression had already vanished. He merely felt that the man's aura was solid; he should be among the better Second-grade Martial Artists,
but no longer enough to make Fang Yuan feel threatened.
"Uncle Zhang." Fang Yuan cupped his fists and took the initiative to greet him.
The saber-holding man clearly remembered Fang Yuan as well. Seeing him offer a salute first, a trace of surprise flashed through his eyes,
before he solemnly returned the gesture. His bearing now treated Fang Yuan as a fellow Martial Artist, rather than a junior in need of looking after.
Fang Yuan's gaze lingered on him for an extra moment, and he silently assessed him.
If Uncle Zhang and I fought without holding back now, the outcome would still be hard to tell!
The instant Fang Yuan lifted the curtain and entered the carriage, the saber-holding man's muscles tightened almost imperceptibly, and his pupils suddenly contracted!
That casual glance from Fang