Brother, what is your name? How did you fall into the water?

Wang Chong had only just sat cross-legged in meditation and circulated his True Qi once when he heard someone knocking at the door.

He went down and opened the door. Seeing Qin Han walk in, he asked, "What brings you here, Brother Qin?"

"There's something I'd like to discuss," Qin Han said quietly.

Seeing him shut the door and act rather furtively, Wang Chong hastily gripped the folding fan in his sleeve and grew wary.

Qin Han cleared his throat softly. "Brother Wang, you're an outstanding disciple of Wudang, and you hold no official post. Even if you killed White Chrysanthemum, all you'd gain would be a bit of fame."

Wang Chong breathed a sigh of relief, realizing he had been overly nervous and let his thoughts run astray. He smiled. "Brother Qin, are you hoping to...?"

Qin Han nodded. They exchanged a smile, much passing between them without a word.

Seeing that Qin Han seemed about to leave, Wang Chong also cleared his throat softly. "My family is poor, and money is rather tight."

Qin Han had actually come for the credit of killing White Chrysanthemum. Though Wang Chong still wasn't certain whether he himself was White Chrysanthemum, that did nothing to stop him from making a deal with Qin Han.

Really, how utterly inexperienced in the ways of the world would someone have to be to give their all to help just because of a few words?

Nothing but empty words and bare teeth, catching a white wolf with empty hands, baiting a fishing spot with air...

Surely those phrases weren't files meant only to be heard and read, while one executed instructions without thinking?

Qin Han's weathered face reddened. He coughed, silently took out a stack of Flying Banknotes, and handed them to Wang Chong.

Qin Han had an imposing bearing and a military background, so Wang Chong had always assumed he must be a straightforward man. Yet seeing that he had prepared the Flying Banknotes beforehand but still tried to get something for nothing with empty words, Wang Chong could not help feeling a little more contempt for him. Aloud, however, he said, "How could I possibly accept this? You've gone to such expense, Brother Qin." He took the Flying Banknotes and casually felt the stack. There were roughly twenty-odd notes, each with a denomination of one hundred strings of cash.

In this world, two thousand strings in banknotes would suffice to buy a small house in Chang'an, or a hundred mu of prime farmland in a middling prefecture.

Wang Chong immediately revised his opinion of Qin Han. Anyone so lavish with his money had to be a good brother!

Smiling, he tucked the Flying Banknotes into his robe. "White Chrysanthemum will surely die at your hands, Brother Qin."

Qin Han breathed a sigh of relief, cupped his hands, and exchanged a few pleasantries before quietly leaving.

Once out of Wang Chong's room, he felt considerably more confident.

That day, when Qian Luoyi had clashed with them, even the seven of them together had failed to gain the upper hand. Though Qin Han believed Qian Luoyi would surely lose if the fight dragged on, he also knew full well that their martial arts were a cut below his. Later, Wang Chong and Fang Jingru had appeared, and Wang Chong had actually fought Qian Luoyi to a standstill all by himself. That had immediately made Qin Han regard him highly.

"With Wang Chong's help, I'll surely take White Chrysanthemum's head," Qin Han muttered to himself. "With that reputation, I'll certainly be promoted when I return to Chang'an, and my standing in the martial world will rise like a boat on a swelling tide."

Wang Chong counted the Flying Banknotes, his heart brimming with delight. This was his first income since transmigrating here. It might have come from a somewhat shady business, but after living two lives, who would quibble over that?

The next day, everyone rose early and kept their heads down as they pressed onward. By the afternoon, they finally reached Pengshan County.

Those who had arrived ahead of them had already booked an inn and sent people around to make inquiries. All the reports said that a monk and a woman had fought White Chrysanthemum and knocked him into a nearby river. Whether he was alive or dead remained unknown.

Apart from Wang Chong, everyone wore a gloomy face, plainly distressed that they could not kill White Chrysanthemum "with their own hands."

Feeling the oppressive atmosphere in the inn, Wang Chong slipped out in secret. He learned that nearby stood Yanyun Mountain, with a renowned scenic attraction, Jinshan Temple, upon it. He decided to go sightseeing there and, along the way, wriggle out of his debt to Qin Han.

Not long ago, a band of bold martial-world figures had "framed" him to his face, insisting without a shred of evidence that he was White Chrysanthemum. This might well be the same old story again. If, after all the twists and turns, White Chrysanthemum still turned out to be him, leaving this Chrysanthemum-Slaying Alliance was a good thing no matter how he looked at it. As he left, he also led away the fine horse he had ridden throughout the journey.

Wang Chong rode for four to six hours. The sky was already very dark, yet he had not found Yanyun Mountain, and there were no longer any homes nearby. He was thoroughly lost.

A little panic stirred in his heart. Knowing he could not keep wandering aimlessly, he found a large tree and tied up his horse. Fortunately, before leaving, he had taken some flatbreads from the inn's kitchen, and the sturdy horse also carried a blanket, fire steel, flint, and such.

Wang Chong built a fire beneath the tree, wrapped himself in the blanket, and toasted the flatbreads. Though he felt a little regret, he also felt somewhat relieved. If I run into anyone tomorrow, I'll ask about Yanyun Mountain. If I've taken the wrong road, I simply won't go there. There's no need to go back, either.

I've already transmigrated here and gained all these martial arts for free. I ought to accomplish something. What opportunities could there be in desolate countryside or remote little towns? I'll head straight for Chang'an.

And while I'm there, I can behold just what sort of splendor that empress possesses!

As Wang Chong was planning his future in his head, he suddenly heard a voice calling softly, "Save me, save me..."

He hurriedly took the folding fan from his sleeve. Have I run into some mountain spirit or wild monster? Does this world have demons as well as martial arts?

He focused his power in both ears and listened for a while. Finding that the cries for help came from the southeast, seemingly only a few dozen zhang away, he took a burning stick from the fire and cautiously made his way in that direction.

After a hundred-odd paces, he suddenly heard rushing water. It turned out there was a large river nearby, and a voice was calling weakly from within it. Worried that it might be some water ghost, Wang Chong picked up seven or eight pebbles and threw them toward the voice without using his internal power. He heard a cry of "Ow!" and something seemed to fall into the water. Raising his torch high, he saw a soaking-wet man in the river, flailing desperately. Yet the more he struggled, the weaker he grew.

Wang Chong took a deep breath and darted forward with his lightness skill at full strength. His feet touched lightly upon the river, and he reached out and grabbed, actually hauling the man bodily from the water before doubling back to shore. Tossing the man to the ground, Wang Chong gave a startled exclamation. Has my lightness skill actually reached the point where I can tread duckweed and cross water? With only that tiny bit of support from the water's surface, I could return to shore? He also roughly understood that if he used his lightness skill on water, he probably could not cross a river on a single reed like Patriarch Bodhidharma. At most, he could run seven or eight steps before sinking, but even that was enough to shock the world.

The man he had tossed to the ground must have spent a long time in the water. He was utterly exhausted and had swallowed his fill of river water. "Thank you for saving my life, brother," he said faintly. "Could you build me a fire so I can warm this chill out of my body? And if you have anything to eat, please give me some."

Wang Chong agreed, but, feeling a little curious, asked, "Brother, what is your name? How did you fall into the water?"

As he spoke, he lowered the torch to illuminate the man's face.

The muscles in the man's face twitched slightly. "I'm terribly tired and weary. Brother, could you build me a fire first, then let me tell you the story slowly?"

...Wang Chong: This fellow doesn't look like a good sort...