Conjecture

Night.

Qinghui expertly began spreading out dry grass. "Little monk... let's squeeze in and sleep together!"

"Get lost!"

Aaron shot Qinghui a glare and kicked him off the carriage. Disturb my sleep? Dream on!

"Also, starting tomorrow, we're taking a detour!"

With memories of the next ten-odd days, he had no need to take so many pointless roads—and could avoid tomorrow's impact from the refugees.

"This..."

Qinghui hesitated.

Then he saw Aaron flick a finger.

Whoosh!

A pebble shot out like it had been fired from a powerful bow or heavy crossbow, piercing through a black bird in a tree.

"I never thought you were a qi martial arts master, Master. Then I'll leave it entirely to you!"

Qinghui was an honest sort and changed his tune quickly.

"Mm..."

Aaron tossed the black bird to Qinghui to clean and gut, then casually asked, "In the world today... who are the strongest and most famous martial artists?"

"The martial world is filled with rising heroes... the most famous should be the heads of the major holy lands... But no matter how high one's martial arts are, one must still look to the court. After all, their soldiers practice martial arts too. Even if they're weaker, if they trap and besiege you, and aren't afraid of casualties, then even the strongest master will have a moment when his body grows weary and his qi essence runs dry."

Qinghui sighed. "Speaking of figures who command the winds and clouds, below the Emperor of Great Liang, one must naturally count the leaders of the various rebel armies. Take the Crimson Turban Army closest to us—their army lord, Du Chongshan, was once the chief leader of the Three Mountains and Four Rivers in the martial world. His martial arts might rank among the top twenty