Half-Buried Old Fossil?

Outside the gates of the Qin Estate, quite a crowd had already gathered beside a horse-drawn carriage loaded to the brim with goods.

At their head stood the Qin Household's steward, his old face filled with bitterness.

Several previous shipments had been robbed, one cart lost after another, without a single exception.

One of those trips had even been guarded by a Late Bright Force martial artist, yet it had still been robbed all the same.

That was precisely why the Qin Household had been willing to spend heavily this time to hire a Dark Force expert to guard the shipment.

Yet now, never mind a Dark Force expert—they had not even recruited a Late Bright Force martial artist. There was only one Mid Bright Force martial artist.

"Of all times, Lord Attendant had to go out... What are we supposed to do now?"

The old steward was so worried that his face had gone dark.

Just then, a figure approached the crowd with steady, powerful strides.

The newcomer wore a Cracked Mask that exposed only his right eye. His body was slightly stooped, but the vitality and blood around him were exceptionally robust.

A Bright Force martial artist!

The old steward's heart skipped a beat, and he hurried forward to greet him.

"May I ask who you are...?"

"Chen Liu. I heard your estate was hiring escort guards?"

The masked old man gave his name and went straight to the point.

"We are, we are! May I ask about your cultivation...?"

The old steward's eyes shone as he stared fixedly at this Mr. Chen Liu.

With his discerning eye, this man's aura was far more substantial than that Mid Bright Force martial artist recruited yesterday. At the very least, he was Late Bright Force—perhaps even at the peak.

"Late Bright Force."

Faint glimmers of sharp light flickered in the deep eyes beneath the mask. This was none other than Lu Fan, using a false name.

"Late Bright Force? Good, excellent!" The old steward rubbed his hands together and probed, "How about one hundred taels of silver for escorting this shipment?"

When he saw Lu Fan remain silent for a long while, he hurriedly added, "Prices have soared during these times, and one hundred taels are already the utmost our estate can offer. How about this—if you deliver the shipment safely, I'll additionally give you ten jin of meat. What do you say?"

Lu Fan was slightly taken aback.

He knew martial artists made money faster than ordinary people, but he had not expected it to be this fast.

As a cook, he would have needed to save for nearly half a year to earn a hundred taels of silver, while a martial artist could get it from a single job.

"Alright."

Coming back to his senses, he nodded in agreement.

"Then the goods will depart tomorrow. When would be convenient for you?"

"Tomorrow morning."

After leaving behind those two words, Lu Fan turned to leave. Just then, a graceful figure happened to approach from the other end of the street.

She was tall and lovely, with a jet-black ponytail. It was the Qin Household's eldest daughter, Qin Yaxin.

"Miss."

"Miss is here."

Led by the old steward, everyone hurriedly bowed.

"No need for formalities." Qin Yaxin walked closer, her gaze falling on Lu Fan. "Old Zhang, this is...?"

"Mr. Chen Liu, a newly hired Late Bright Force martial artist. With Mr. Chen guarding the shipment tomorrow, it will surely be foolproof!"

Old Zhang hurriedly introduced him.

"Mr. Chen Liu." Hearing this, Qin Yaxin solemnly bent down in salute. "Thank you for stepping forward so righteously, sir. I'll be relying on you for this escort."

"Mm."

Lu Fan gave a slight nod. He answered with only one word before turning and leaving.

Even after his figure had disappeared into the distance, Qin Yaxin remained standing where she was, a trace of puzzlement flashing through her eyes.

This Mr. Chen Liu's attitude was a little too cold.

Yet compared to that, she could not shake the feeling that this Mr. Chen Liu seemed somehow familiar.

Returning to his residence, Lu Fan sat cross-legged and cultivated once more.

Without meat to replenish his vitality and blood, his progress was neither fast nor slow. Even heaven-defying comprehension was of no use.

After meditating all night, he had only slightly consolidated his Late Bright Force cultivation.

Early the next morning, he first went to Blackstone Martial Hall to ask Zhang Yao for three days' leave. Zhang Yao agreed without even asking why.

After leaving the martial hall, Lu Fan put on the Cracked Mask, transformed into Chen Liu, and headed straight for the Qin Estate.

By the time he reached the gates of the Qin Estate, several people were already waiting.

Beside Old Zhang, the steward who had received him yesterday, stood two martial artists brimming with vitality and blood, one man and one woman.

The woman looked to be around thirty, and her aura was even deeper. The man appeared only a little over twenty, with the particular arrogance of youth written between his brows.

"Old Chen is here." Old Zhang stepped forward to greet him and introduced them from the side. "This is Wang Hu, Mid Bright Force. This is Zhou Haiyan, Miss Zhou. Like you, Old Chen, she is Late Bright Force."

Zhou Haiyan strode forward and generously extended her hand.

"On the road, I hope Old Chen will offer me much guidance."

Lu Fan hesitated for a moment.

For decades, no one had ever greeted him with such an equal posture.

He extended his hand, gave hers a perfunctory shake, then released it.

Zhou Haiyan smiled, completely unbothered.

But a cold snort came from behind them.

"Miss Zhou, is there any point in trying to build ties with some old fossil who's already half-buried?"

Wang Hu crossed his arms, his tone disdainful. "Late Bright Force is already the end of the road for him. But I entered Mid Bright Force at twenty-three. Before thirty, I will surely step into the ranks of Dark Force experts."

He glanced at Lu Fan and said no more, but the meaning behind his words was abundantly clear.

Though harsh, those words laid bare the cruelty of the martial world: youth was capital.

The reason was simple. The younger the body, the more vigorous the vitality and blood it contained, and the farther one could go.

Once a person grew old, the body's vitality and blood would rapidly diminish, unable to sustain the expenditure at all.

That was why people said that if one could not become a martial artist before the age of twenty, then one was fated to have no connection with the martial path in this lifetime.

Faced with Wang Hu's words dripping with innate superiority, Zhou Haiyan remained unconcerned.

"That may not be so. The martial path is not a contest of who is younger, but of who has greater talent and who can live longer."

"If you ask me, people like Old Chen may instead travel farther."

Upon hearing that, Wang Hu's expression grew even more disdainful.

"Just what can this old man possibly—"

Before Wang Hu could finish, the convoy had already set off.

Lu Fan had long since climbed into one of the carriages.

Seeing this, Zhou Haiyan hurried after him.

Wang Hu, left standing there after making a fool of himself, pursed his lips but obediently followed anyway.

The carriages slowly began to move.

Once seated, Zhou Haiyan glanced at Lu Fan and lowered her voice. "I heard that none of the martial artists who escorted the first three shipments came back alive. Old Chen, what do you think?"

"Since we are here, we may as well settle in."

Lu Fan did not even raise his brows.

"Hmph, putting on airs and playing mysterious."

Wang Hu, the last to climb aboard, gave a contemptuous snort and dropped himself down beside Zhou Haiyan.

"Miss Zhou, don't be fooled by the fact that I'm only Mid Bright Force. The cultivation method I practice is specifically suited for slaughter and battle. If a real fight breaks out, I can suppress even a Late Bright Force martial artist."

"If those bandits really come, I can handle them alone."

Zhou Haiyan did not respond. She leaned against the carriage, closed her eyes, and meditated.

The carriage passed the street entrance and headed toward the city gates, the sound of its wheels gradually fading over the stone-paved road.

Behind a second-floor window in a distant teahouse, someone's gaze rested on the retreating convoy.

A moment later, the window silently closed, and the person standing behind it had already vanished.