Martial Artists

Fang Zhixing had actually made plans long ago. He replied, "First, gather intelligence. We know far too little about this world."

"Mm, plan before acting!"

Skinny Dog had clearly been thinking the same thing.

Deep down, he hoped this was a world of immortal cultivation.

If it was, then perhaps one day in the future, he would have the chance to take human form and become that man again!

"Take human form..."

Skinny Dog could not help letting his imagination run wild. Even a dog needed dreams.

After breakfast, the man and dog left the inn and wandered down the street.

Before long, Fang Zhixing spotted several breakfast stalls at a street corner. They sold steamed buns, stuffed buns, soy milk, and thin porridge, but there were no fried dough sticks or savory tofu pudding.

Fang Zhixing moved closer and heard the diners talking.

"Ah, three steamed buns used to cost one large coin. Now one steamed bun costs three large coins."

"Grain keeps getting more expensive. My family is almost out of food, and we can't afford to buy any!"

"I warned you long ago to stockpile grain and medicine. Right now, those things are hard currency."

As he listened, a burst of miserable screams suddenly came from the distance.

Everyone turned to look.

On the street, five or six people were punching and kicking a refugee dressed like a beggar.

"Spare me, big brothers! I was too hungry. I didn't steal anything. This half a steamed bun fell on the ground, and I picked it up..."

The refugee lay on the ground, clutching half a steamed bun tightly in his hand as he wailed and begged for mercy.

Yet it was useless.

Before long, the refugee had been beaten beyond recognition and died on the spot. They carried his body away and threw it into the river to feed the fish.

"Ha, another thief. He deserved to be beaten to death!"

One diner was already used to such scenes. Not only did he feel no sympathy, he even took pleasure in the man's misfortune.

"Those damn refugees all keep running here."

Another diner's face was full of resentment. "These refugees come here begging for food, shitting and pissing all over the streets. It's disgusting!"

"Hmph, they should kill them all!" someone echoed.

An old man stroked his beard and said sternly, "We must petition the village head and drive these refugees away at once."

Village head was an official post, roughly equivalent to the mayor of a town or village.

The village head of Little Clear River Market Town was likely the highest-ranking local official here.

Fang Zhixing listened, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

Skinny Dog transmitted, "Hear that? No one sympathizes with the refugees."

Fang Zhixing sneered. "You studied history, didn't you? Wasn't ancient society always like this? Don't use modern values to observe or understand this world. Most people are actually ignorant and foolish."

Skinny Dog could not deny it.

Even in times of peace and prosperity, there were male thieves and female prostitutes. How much worse would it be in an age of famine?

At that moment, Fang Zhixing noticed a man—a powerfully built middle-aged man with a shaved head, a thick beard, and a height of over one meter eighty-five. His muscles were well developed, and he looked remarkably like Lu Zhishen.

The men who had taken part in the beating gathered around the bald brute after disposing of the body. Each bowed and scraped as though underlings paying respects to a gang boss.

Skinny Dog immediately transmitted, "That guy should be a local tyrant."

Fang Zhixing had noticed the bald man as well.

Before he even needed to ask, people nearby began whispering about him.

"Be careful, that's the Chen Family's eldest master!"

"The Chen Family is the wealthiest family in Little Clear River Market Town. They have immense wealth. Old Master Chen, the family head, is resourceful and skilled at business and financial management. His son, the eldest master Chen, is highly skilled in martial arts. I heard he's an official disciple of the Black Tiger Gate."

"Yes, yes, the eldest master Chen took the Black Tiger Gate's master as his teacher. He has practiced martial arts for years and possesses immense strength. I saw him uproot a willow tree and punch a bull to death with my own eyes."

"Martial arts!"

Fang Zhixing and Skinny Dog exchanged a glance.

Skinny Dog felt a little uneasy. His dog eyes widened. "No way. Could this be a world where martial arts flourished?"

Fang Zhixing fell silent for a moment, then turned and walked toward a middle-aged man sitting on the steps and smoking a dry tobacco pipe. Smiling, he said, "Uncle, can I ask you something?"

The middle-aged man exhaled a cloud of smoke and sized Fang Zhixing up. Seeing his ragged clothes, disheveled hair, and the coarse air of a rustic mountain peasant about him, undisguised disgust and contempt immediately appeared on his face.

He continued smoking as if he had not heard Fang Zhixing, disdaining to acknowledge him.

Fang Zhixing felt anger rise in his heart, but the smile on his face did not fade. He took out a large coin from his pocket and handed it over.

"Uncle, I only want to ask something. I won't take up much of your time." Fang Zhixing looked utterly sincere.

At the sight of the coin, the middle-aged man immediately took it and tucked it into his clothes. He replied coolly, "Ask."

Fang Zhixing quickly said, "Have you heard of immortals?"

"What people?"

The middle-aged man looked bewildered. "Xian people? You mean the Xian people from the north?"

Seeing this, Fang Zhixing hurriedly changed his question. "Who are the most powerful kind of people you know of?"

The middle-aged man answered, "Of course, the Heavenly People. They stand high above all others and can do anything."

"Heavenly People?!"

Fang Zhixing and Skinny Dog's minds stirred. The so-called Heavenly People might be immortals, only called by a different name.

He asked again, "Are Heavenly People an extremely lofty realm that can be attained through cultivation?"

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

The middle-aged man grew even more impatient. "Heavenly People are born nobles. What does cultivation have to do with anything?"

After saying that, he stood up, ignored Fang Zhixing, and walked away on his own.