The Arrival of Yang Wudi

Yang Wudi was taken aback.

Zhang Mo took out the two items from his pocket—the Millennium Fleeceflower, and the root the old man had just given him.

Yang Wudi's gaze fell upon the two items, his pupils contracting violently.

He reached out, wanting to take them, but then pulled back.

"These are..."

Zhang Mo said, "Medicinal herbs from this world. Grown for thousands of years."

Yang Wudi stared at the two items, his eyes shining.

He could feel the energy contained within them. Different from the medicinal herbs of the Douluo Continent, but purer, more primal.

"Let me see," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

Zhang Mo handed them over.

Yang Wudi took the two items, examined them back and forth, brought them to his nose to smell, and finally extended his tongue to lick them lightly.

His expression changed.

"This... this medicinal power..." He looked up, staring at Zhang Mo, "Where did you get them?"

Zhang Mo said, "I bought them."

Yang Wudi was taken aback, "Bought them?"

Zhang Mo nodded, "In this world, although these things are rare, as long as you have money, you can buy them."

Yang Wudi fell silent.

He looked at the two medicinal herbs in his hand, then at Zhang Mo, his expression complex.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Zhang Mo said, "Help me with something."

"What is it?"

"Kill someone."

Yang Wudi frowned, "Who?"

Zhang Mo said, "Not here yet. But soon. A Title Douluo."

Yang Wudi's eyes lit up.

"A Title Douluo? Who?"

Zhang Mo said, "Sword Douluo Chen Xin. Bone Douluo Ancient Banyan."

Yang Wudi was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"Sword Douluo? Bone Douluo? Those two old geezers?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi finished laughing and stared at Zhang Mo, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Do you know who those two are?"

Zhang Mo said, "I do. Title Douluos. Level ninety-five and above."

Yang Wudi said, "And you still want to kill them?"

Zhang Mo said, "I do."

Yang Wudi stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly asked:

"What for?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said, "To survive."

Yang Wudi was taken aback.

Zhang Mo said, "If they come, they will kill me. And they will kill someone I must protect."

Yang Wudi was silent for a few seconds, then asked:

"Who is that person you must protect?"

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

Yang Wudi looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"Alright. I won't ask." He returned the two medicinal herbs to Zhang Mo, "I'll help you this time, for the sake of the herbs. But if you lied to me—"

He clenched the shaft of his spear.

"This spear of mine doesn't recognize people."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi suddenly remembered something and asked:

"When will those two old fellows you mentioned arrive?"

Zhang Mo said: "I don't know. Maybe in a few days, maybe in ten or so."

Yang Wudi frowned: "Then where am I supposed to stay during this time?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said: "Come with me."

Yang Wudi was taken aback for a moment.

Zhang Mo said: "I have an empty room there. It isn't big, but it's habitable."

Yang Wudi stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Interesting," he said. "A man who wants to kill a Title Douluo is inviting me to stay at his house."

He unslung the Soul Breaking Spear from his back and leaned it against the floor.

"Let's go."

The two of them walked toward the exit.

When they reached the doorway, Yang Wudi suddenly stopped and glanced back at the exhibition hall.

The bustling crowd, the dazzling array of medicinal herbs.

He said softly:

"This world is somewhat interesting."

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

He glanced toward the pillar.

Ning Rongrong was still hiding there, poking half her head out to look in their direction.

He gave a slight nod.

Ning Rongrong let out a sigh of relief and shrank back behind the pillar.

Only after the two men had walked far away did she slowly emerge.

She watched as the backs of Zhang Mo and Yang Wudi disappeared through the entrance, her palms slick with sweat.

For those few minutes just now, her heart rate hadn't slowed down once.

She recalled the way Yang Wudi gripped his spear, and the look in his eyes when he stared at Zhang Mo.

One slip-up, and that spear would have pierced through Zhang Mo's chest.

But he hadn't struck.

He had followed Zhang Mo instead.

Ning Rongrong took a deep breath and slowly walked outside.

Reaching the entrance, the sunlight shone down, stinging her eyes and making her squint.

She looked at the empty plaza and suddenly smiled.

As she laughed, her eyes turned a little red.

She whispered:

"Zhang Mo, you really are..."

She didn't finish the sentence.

But she knew that the most dangerous enemy had now become a friend.

At least for the time being.

Zhang Mo pushed open the door to his studio and stepped aside to let Yang Wudi enter.

Yang Wudi stood at the threshold, peered inside, and furrowed his brows.

"This is it?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi walked in and looked around: the oil paintings hanging on the walls, the tools piled in the corner, the unwashed bowls and chopsticks on the coffee table, the blanket on the sofa. He walked to the window, pushed it open, and looked out—below was a narrow alley, and across from it were old residential buildings with colorful clothes hanging on the balconies.

He turned around and looked at Zhang Mo.

"You live here?"

Zhang Mo said: "I've lived here for seven or eight years."

Yang Wudi was silent for a few seconds, then said:

"It's worse than I imagined."

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

Yang Wudi leaned the Soul Breaking Spear against the wall and plopped down onto the sofa. The sofa springs creaked, and he sank halfway into it. He paused, looked down at the sofa beneath him, then looked back at Zhang Mo.

"This thing... is soft?"

Zhang Mo said, "Sofa. For sitting."

Yang Wudi stood up, sat back down, then stood up again. He repeated this several times, as if studying some novel contraption.

"Interesting," he said. "More comfortable than the chairs back home."

Ning Rongrong stood at the doorway, not daring to enter.

Watching Yang Wudi study the sofa, she felt a sense of trepidation. She had heard of this man—the patriarch of the Breaking Clan, known for his explosive temper and a tendency to resort to violence at the slightest provocation. Back on the Douluo Continent, he had once dismantled the main gate of an entire sect just to seize a single medicinal herb.

Now, he was sitting on Zhang Mo's sofa, examining the springs like a curious child.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Yang Wudi suddenly raised his head and looked toward the door.

His gaze landed on Ning Rongrong.

Ning Rongrong's entire body stiffened.

Yang Wudi stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly said:

"The little girl from the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect?"

Ning Rongrong wanted to hide, but her legs wouldn't obey her.

Yang Wudi stood up and walked toward her.

Ning Rongrong took a step back, her spine hitting the doorframe.

Yang Wudi stopped in front of her, looking down at her.

He was more than a head taller than her, his burly frame casting a shadow that completely engulfed her.

"Ning Fengzhi's daughter?" he asked.

Ning Rongrong nodded, her voice as faint as a mosquito's:

"Yes, yes..."

Yang Wudi stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I don't kill children."

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment.

Yang Wudi turned and walked back to the sofa, sitting down again, though this time he didn't bother with the springs.

"I know your father," he said. "The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect and the Breaking Clan have dealt with each other a few times. That man, he's a bit of a hypocrite, but he's not a bad person."

Ning Rongrong didn't know what to say, so she could only nod.

Yang Wudi suddenly remembered something and looked at her.

"How did you get here?"

Ning Rongrong opened her mouth, then looked at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo walked over and sat down nearby.

"Summoned by the system," he said. "The same way she arrived."

Yang Wudi frowned: "System? What is that?"

Zhang Mo gave a brief explanation of the Boundary Eye.

After listening, Yang Wudi remained silent for a long time.

"So," he said slowly, "I was summoned here under the assumption that I was an enemy?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi said: "And you wanted to kill me?"

Zhang Mo said: "At first, yes."

Yang Wudi stared at him.

Zhang Mo continued: "But then I realized you were an alchemist, so I decided to try a different approach."

Yang Wudi was taken aback, then burst into loud laughter.

His laughter was coarse, making the windows rattle.

"Interesting!" He slapped his thigh. "A man with not even a shred of Spirit Power wanted to kill me. And when he realized he couldn't, he tried to bribe me with medicinal herbs."

He stood up and walked over to Zhang Mo, looking down at him from his towering height.

"Do you know who I, Yang Wudi, am?"

Zhang Mo looked at him without speaking.

Yang Wudi said: "In this life, the thing I hate most is being schemed against. If it were anyone else who dared to play me like this, my spear would have already run them through."

He clenched his fist.

"But you are different," he said suddenly. "Earlier, outside, you stood between me and that fat man. You knew who I was, you knew I might strike at any moment, yet you still stepped out."

He stared into Zhang Mo's eyes.

"Why?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said, "Because there are many people nearby."

Yang Wudi was stunned for a moment.

Zhang Mo said, "If you were to strike right now, many people would die. Those ordinary people have no grievances with you."

Yang Wudi was silent for a few seconds.

Then, he suddenly laughed.

"Interesting," he said. "Truly interesting."

He turned and walked back to the sofa, sitting down once more.

"Fine. I'll trust you this once."

Ning Rongrong watched this scene from the side, not daring to even breathe loudly.

She looked at Yang Wudi, then at Zhang Mo, suddenly feeling that this world was too surreal.

The two people who were enemies just a moment ago were now sitting on the same sofa chatting.

She quietly shuffled over and sat down next to Zhang Mo, keeping as far away from Yang Wudi as possible.

Yang Wudi glanced at her but ignored her.

He stared at the two medicinal herbs on the coffee table—the Millennium Fleeceflower Zhang Mo had placed there and that unknown root.

"This thing," he pointed at the root, "where did it come from?"

Zhang Mo said, "An old man gave it to me."

Yang Wudi frowned: "Gave it to you?"

Zhang Mo nodded and recounted what had happened at the expo.

After listening, Yang Wudi's expression became complex.

"Changbai Mountain... guarded by a snake..." he muttered to himself. "That old man is no simple character."

He raised his head and looked at Zhang Mo.

"Keep this thing safe," he said. "It is better than any medicinal herb I have ever seen."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi stared at the two herbs for a long time, then suddenly sighed.

"What a pity," he said. "Such fine medicine, yet it cannot be refined."

Zhang Mo was stunned: "Why?"

Yang Wudi said, "There is no Spirit Power. The fire in this world cannot refine the medicinal properties."

Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then said:

"What if we use Spirit Power?"

Yang Wudi looked up at him.

Zhang Mo said, "She has Spirit Power."

He pointed at Ning Rongrong.

Ning Rongrong was stunned.

Yang Wudi stared at Ning Rongrong, his eyes lighting up.

"Little girl, what is your level?"

Ning Rongrong stammered, "For, forty-two."

Yang Wudi frowned: "Too low."

He thought for a moment, then added, "But it might be worth a try."

He stood up, paced the room twice, and suddenly asked:

"Do you have a place here where one can start a fire?"

Zhang Mo said, "There is a gas stove in the kitchen."

Yang Wudi was stunned: "What is a gas stove?"

Half an hour later, the three of them stood in the kitchen.

Yang Wudi stared at the blue flames dancing on the gas stove, his brows furrowed so tightly they could crush a fly.

"This fire... it has no Spirit Power fluctuations?"

Zhang Mo said, "It burns gas."

Yang Wudi did not understand what gas was, but he could feel that this fire was indeed different from the furnace fires of the Douluo Continent.

He reached out his hand, moving it closer to the flame to feel it.

"The temperature is sufficient," he said, "but it is not stable enough."

He thought for a moment, then turned to look at Ning Rongrong.

"Little girl, I'll be using this fire to refine medicine in a moment; use your Spirit Power to help me stabilize the heat. Can you do that?"

Ning Rongrong nodded nervously.

Yang Wudi pulled a small cloth bag from his robes and opened it, revealing several withered Medicinal herbs inside.

"These are my own," he said. "We'll use these to practice first."

He placed the herbs on the cutting board and drew a small knife from his waist. The blade was thin, its edge glinting with a cold light.

He began to slice the herbs.

His movements were fast, yet steady. With every stroke, the herbs were cut into slices of uniform thickness.

Ning Rongrong watched from the side, her eyes wide.

She had seen the alchemists of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect cut herbs, but none were this fast or this precise.

Once Yang Wudi finished, he placed the slices into a small pot and said to Zhang Mo:

"Ignite it."

Zhang Mo turned on the gas stove.

Blue flames licked the bottom of the pot.

Yang Wudi stared at the herb slices in the pot, waited a moment, and suddenly said:

"Little girl, Spirit Power."

Ning Rongrong hurriedly summoned her Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda, guiding her Spirit Power toward the flames.

The flames flickered, their color shifting from blue to a faint gold.

Yang Wudi's eyes lit up.

"Steady!"

He began adding water to the pot, stirring as he poured. His movements were fluid, as if he had done this countless times before.

Ning Rongrong gritted her teeth, desperately maintaining the output of her Spirit Power.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her cheeks.

But she dared not let up.

Ten minutes later, Yang Wudi turned off the heat.

The liquid in the pot had turned a deep brown, emitting a rich, medicinal fragrance.

Yang Wudi stared at the pot of medicinal broth for a long time.

Then, he smiled.

That smile was more genuine than any Zhang Mo had ever seen from him.

"It's done," he said. "It actually worked."

He scooped up a spoonful, blew on it, and took a taste.

He closed his eyes, savoring it for a long time.

When he opened his eyes, he looked at Ning Rongrong with a complex expression.

"Little girl," he said, "you've done me a great favor."

Ning Rongrong was so exhausted she leaned against the wall, gasping for air.

But the corners of her mouth curled upward.

Yang Wudi turned to look at Zhang Mo.

"You said earlier that more Title Douluo are coming?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi said, "I will help you."

He paused, then added:

"Not for your sake. For the sake of being able to continue refining medicine."

Zhang Mo looked at him and nodded.

Outside the window, the setting sun began to sink.

Golden light streamed through the window, bathing the three people in the kitchen.

Ning Rongrong leaned against the wall, watching Yang Wudi carefully pour the medicinal broth into a bottle, and suddenly felt that this world might not be so terrifying after all.