Zhao Family Village

As Zhao Dashan spoke, he pointed at Li Changqing, then outside the village.

To Li Changqing, Zhao Dashan's words were just a string of gibberish. He couldn't understand a single one.

But from Zhao Dashan's hostile tone, furrowed brow, and shooing gestures, he could roughly guess what the man meant: Get lost. Beggars aren't welcome here!

Li Changqing was already miserable enough after crossing into another world, having his body shattered and his soul cast into a strange land, where he couldn't read the writing of Douluo Continent. Now he discovered he couldn't understand the language either. His temper flared.

Ignoring Zhao Dashan's attempts to drive him away, Li Changqing jerked his head up, raised his middle finger at the sky, and cursed, "Fuck you, you damned heavens! Crossing into another world was bad enough! No memories from the original owner was bad enough! And now I can't even speak the language? One-star review!"

Pent-up frustration rang through his voice.

Zhao Dashan froze. He couldn't understand a word Li Changqing had said either.

All Zhao Dashan saw was the little beggar gesturing at the sky, spouting strange words he couldn't understand, with a fierce look in his eyes.

A madman. This little beggar must be a madman too, Zhao Dashan guessed, his disgust deepening.

Zhao Dashan stepped forward and shoved Li Changqing's shoulder.

Li Changqing was already furious. That shove set him off.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes. With a thought, a somewhat worn longsword appeared in his right palm. He gripped the hilt and pointed its tip at Zhao Dashan's chest.

Zhao Dashan was startled at first, but once he got a clear look at the sword, he scoffed without a trace of fear.

He had awakened a Martial Soul himself, after all. Though he had no Soul Power and his Martial Soul was only a farm tool, he still considered it better than the battered sword before him.

Disdain filled Zhao Dashan's eyes. With a cold snort, he summoned a plain but sturdy, sharp sickle, gripped it tightly, and pointed it at Li Changqing's chest in return.

Sword against sickle—by comparison, Li Changqing's sword really did look worse than a sickle.

Li Changqing's mouth twitched. He was speechless. "No wonder the original owner had no Soul Power. This sword can't even measure up to a sickle. It's a Trash Martial Soul through and through."

With a thought, he secretly activated his Kunpeng Martial Soul.

A wisp of Sun True Fire flowed into the Sword Martial Soul. The slender golden flame carried immense power as it gradually coiled around the blade. Though the flame was small, it gave off searing heat, raising the temperature around it.

Kun Peng was one of the Ten Fiends of the ancient immortal era. It commanded yin and yang, controlled water and fire, and traveled at supreme speed across the nine heavens. Even a trace of its Solar Power was far beyond the Martial Souls of Douluo Continent. Before Kun Peng, even a God-Level Martial Soul like the Six-Winged Angel could only bow its head.

The disdain in Zhao Dashan's eyes froze the instant golden flames rose from the longsword.

The flames were not fierce, yet their heat made every hair on his body stand on end.

"A—a Soul Master?!" The thought thundered through the young man's mind, leaving room for nothing else.

In a remote little village like this, Soul Masters stood far above ordinary people.

The sickle vanished from his hand. His face turned deathly pale, his legs trembled uncontrollably, and his gaze toward Li Changqing filled with terror. He scarcely dared to breathe.

He was afraid Li Changqing might kill him on a whim.

Li Changqing had no intention of killing anyone. He wasn't Tang Buddha, ready to declare at the slightest provocation that someone had earned themselves a path to death. But he did need to establish his authority.

Li Changqing couldn't be bothered to waste words on him. The man probably wouldn't understand anyway.

He turned toward a blue-gray stone stele beside him, as tall as a person, and gave a light swing of his arm. The sword slashed diagonally downward.

Wreathed in Sun True Fire, the blade sliced silently through the air. The hard bluestone stele split diagonally in two as though it were tofu.

Boom!

The upper half slid along the cut and crashed to the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.

One stroke had cleaved the stone!

Watching this, Zhao Dashan thought, What would happen if that sword struck me?

He couldn't bear to imagine it. With a thud, he dropped to his knees before Li Changqing, trembling all over and muttering incessantly.

Li Changqing couldn't understand him, but he could guess the man was begging for his life. He withdrew the Sword Martial Soul into his body, and the golden flames disappeared.

"Not speaking the language is a real pain. Even communicating is a problem." Li Changqing frowned and considered it. "I'll try gestures."

In front of Zhao Dashan, he mimed holding a bowl and shoveling food into his mouth.

Zhao Dashan nodded frantically, then copied the gesture. He had clearly understood what Li Changqing meant.

Li Changqing nodded.

Zhao Dashan scrambled to his feet. Bending at the waist, he stepped aside and extended a hand in invitation, his posture utterly deferential.

Li Changqing followed Zhao Dashan into the village.

Zhao Family Village looked like a simple village from ancient times.

The dirt road was pitted and uneven, lined on both sides with low earthen houses. Beside each house stood a crude fence made of branches, enclosing vegetables. Li Changqing didn't recognize some of them; perhaps they were unique to Douluo Continent.

Zhao Dashan led Li Changqing to a relatively tidy earthen house. This was Zhao Dashan's home.

Inside the fence stood a woman carrying a baby on her back. The child was very young, no more than two years old.

They were Zhao Dashan's wife and child. His wife was named Wang Cuimei.

He went up to Wang Cuimei and murmured a few words to her.

Wang Cuimei looked at Li Changqing in shock, then gave him a stiff bow and hurried into the house.

Zhao Dashan respectfully ushered Li Changqing inside, keeping his posture low.

A short while later, Wang Cuimei came out carrying a steaming bowl of thin porridge and offered it to Li Changqing with both hands.

Her eyes were anxious and frightened. She feared Li Changqing would find the meal too meager and make trouble for her and her husband.

Li Changqing didn't care whether the porridge was poisoned. With Kunpeng True Blood in his veins, he doubted anyone in this village could get hold of a potent poison. Even the deadliest poison on Douluo Continent wouldn't scare him; he could gulp it down like sweet water.

He took the bowl and began swallowing mouthful after mouthful.

The warm porridge settled in his stomach, easing the exhaustion of a full day's travel through the wilderness.

Zhao Dashan and Wang Cuimei stood respectfully to one side, hardly daring to breathe as they watched Li Changqing with anxious eyes. Only after he began gulping down the porridge did they exhale, their tense expressions relaxing a little.

Li Changqing soon finished the porridge. He set down the empty bowl, rose, and went into the courtyard to look around.

The house was small. Apart from the main room he had just been in, it had two side rooms. One was piled with clutter and had sat unused for a long time.

Li Changqing pointed at the cluttered room, then at himself. His meaning was clear: I'm staying in this room.

Zhao Dashan and Wang Cuimei didn't dare refuse. They nodded repeatedly, afraid of neglecting him.

Zhao Dashan immediately set to work clearing out the clutter. Wang Cuimei helped where she could while carrying the child on her back.

Before long, they had cleared the room, put together a simple bed from wooden planks, and brought bedding to make it up for Li Changqing.

Li Changqing nodded slightly, satisfied. He waved a hand to signal that the two of them could stop.