By the time Zhang Qingyuan returned, a deathly silence had fallen before the city gates.
Zhang Junbao stood with his sword in hand, the corpses of more than thirty Mount Song Sword Sect disciples lying around him.
Some of those disciples were missing arms or legs; others had been killed with a single blow.
Not far from Zhang Junbao stood the sect leader of the Mount Song Sword Sect, Pei Wuya.
Several bloody cuts marked Pei Wuya's arm. He was wounded.
Beside Pei Wuya stood the disciple named Jiang Yi.
Seeing this scene, Zhang Qingyuan understood. Pei Wuya had probably arrived first. Seeing his disciples being slaughtered, he would inevitably have drawn his sword and stepped forward, only to be wounded by Brother Bao.
Then Jiang Yi had arrived and told Pei Wuya who Brother Bao was.
But his round trip had taken over an hour. What was going on with them standing motionless here now?
Zhang Qingyuan came to Zhang Junbao's side and gave Pei Wuya a curious look.
"What's going on?"
Old Pei clutched his wounded arm, wanting to cry but finding no tears.
He wanted to know what was going on too, because they had already apologized just now.
A quarter of an hour earlier, things had indeed happened as Zhang Qingyuan imagined.
When a Mount Song Sword Sect disciple found Pei Wuya and told him someone was forcing their way through the checkpoint to leave the city, Pei Wuya's temper had instantly flared.
Who dares cause trouble right under my nose? Are they tired of living?
He had thought it was someone from Netherworld City, or some brat fresh out of the nest who wanted to play the hero.
In that case, he would let them get an early taste of the martial world's cruelty.
But when he reached the city gates and took a look, his heart nearly shattered.
The disciples stationed at the gates were all elites of his Mount Song Sword Sect.
Yet now, not one was intact. They were either missing arms and legs or already dead.
As the sect leader of the Mount Song Sword Sect, how could he not avenge his disciples?
He drew his sword and attacked, opening with his signature move, the Ice Soul Cold Heart Sword Technique.
Wherever the Sword Qi reached, a chill could be felt even in the blazing summer. Frost covered the space around the Sword Qi, condensing the moisture in the air into ice needles that shot toward Zhang Junbao.
He had thought this strike would succeed, but the Sword Qi suddenly dissipated three feet from Zhang Junbao, and even the ice needles evaporated.
That was Zhang Junbao's Supreme Yang True Qi, which specifically countered ice-attribute internal arts.
At the sight, Old Pei was deeply alarmed.
He immediately asked, "Who are you, and why are you interfering in the affairs of my Mount Song Sword Sect?"
Who could have expected Zhang Junbao not to answer at all, merely continuing to step forward?
Pei Wuya saw that there would be no peaceful resolution. Countless onlookers surrounded the city gates; as the leader of a sect, how could he lose face?
Left with no choice, he could only steel himself and charge forward, throwing out a threat as he did. "In that case, don't blame my sword for showing no mercy."
By the twentieth exchange after charging in, Pei Wuya knew he was definitely no match for this young Daoist.
But there was no retreat now. He had to salvage his dignity even if it killed him.
Yet a gap in strength could not be bridged by courage. This was no hot-blooded shonen anime where recalling how hard life had been over the years would send his power soaring.
Pei Wuya remembered the helplessness he had felt when Lin Shuyan thrashed him half a year earlier. In just another dozen or so exchanges, several bloody cuts appeared on his body.
Those were marks left by grazing Sword Qi.
He did not know why. There had clearly been several strikes with which his opponent could have killed him, so why had he ultimately held back from dealing a killing blow?
Is he trying to humiliate me?
Fortunately, his disciple Jiang Yi arrived in time, shouting that it was a misunderstanding and telling him that this Daoist master was Zhang Junbao of Taiqing Palace.
Pei Wuya immediately withdrew his sword and retreated, smiling apologetically as he offered an apology.
He said it was all a misunderstanding, that they had not known Daoist Zhang was here, that it was all their fault for offending Daoist Zhang, that those disciples deserved to die, and so on.
The normal procedure is for me to flatter you a little, apologize, and make amends, then for you to forgive me. We clear up the misunderstanding and share drinks afterward.
But after he talked for ages, Zhang Junbao showed no reaction whatsoever.
Pei Wuya clutched his wounded arm, unable either to leave or to stay.
Because he could sense killing intent from Zhang Junbao locked onto him. If he made even the slightest rash move, Zhang Junbao would absolutely kill him without hesitation.
And so the stalemate had continued until now.
Seeing Zhang Qingyuan return, someone he could actually communicate with, Pei Wuya felt as though daylight had broken.
"Daoist Qingyuan, it's all a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding.
"I didn't know you two Daoists were here and offended you both. Please explain things to Daoist Junbao, Daoist Qingyuan. It really is a misunderstanding.
"Even if I ate a bear's heart and a leopard's gall, I wouldn't dare provoke you two."
Zhang Qingyuan looked at Pei Wuya and thought to himself that this fellow really knew when to bend and when to stand tall.
He was different from Alliance Leader Zuo in The Smiling, Proud Wanderer.
True enough. They were not the same person, after all.
"Certainly. If you have no other business, Sect Leader Pei, let those people leave the city."
"Yes, yes, yes. Leave the city, everyone, leave the city." Pei Wuya directed the people at the gates, as enthusiastic as a greeter.
Zhang Qingyuan looked at Zhang Junbao, who asked, "Were they saved?"
"Luckily, I got there in time. Mother and child are safe. The baby weighed six jin and five liang."
"That's good." Zhang Junbao breathed a sigh of relief and sheathed his sword with a smile.
Zhang Qingyuan glanced back at Pei Wuya. It was only because Zhang Junbao had not yet reached his disheveled phase; otherwise, whether that mother and child survived or not, Pei Wuya would have had to die.
Zhang Junbao was not yet the Demon-Subduing Great Emperor. He still knew to have misgivings.
He would consider, If I kill Pei Wuya, will I cause trouble? Will I implicate Brother Yuan? Can we bear the trouble I cause?
If I just kill the leader of a sect like this, will I seem cruel and somewhat unreasonable? Will the martial world think I'm not a good person...?
It was precisely because he had these misgivings that he waited-waited for Zhang Qingyuan to return, waited for news of that mother and child.
If the delay had meant the mother could not be saved, his anger would still have overwhelmed his reason, and those misgivings would have ceased to exist.
Of course, once he truly entered his sixty-year demon-subduing phase, he would completely forget what restraint even was.
Because what this humble Daoist subdues are demons. What do I have to worry about?
The commoners at the gates dispersed in a rush, their faces full of mockery for Old Pei and the joy of victory.
Zhang Qingyuan stepped forward with Brother Bao, while Pei Wuya kept a smile plastered on his face.
"Sect Leader Pei."
"Yes, Daoist, please instruct me."
"You mustn't oppress decent folk," Zhang Qingyuan said earnestly.
"Yes, yes, yes. Your rebuke is entirely right, Daoist. That wasn't actually my intention. It was all those disciples' fault for misinterpreting my meaning, which led to this misunderstanding between us." A classic leader's attempt to pass the buck came spilling from his mouth.
Zhang Qingyuan continued, "It's only because my brother is softhearted. Otherwise..."
"I understand, I understand."
"Conduct yourself properly."
"Safe travels, Daoists."
With Pei Wuya seeing them off respectfully, Zhang Qingyuan and Zhang Junbao entered the city. The soldiers at the gates looked at Zhang Junbao with solemn respect, and the passersby who could now move freely thanked him profusely.
Zhang Junbao happily said it was only what he ought to do. Seeing those commoners sincerely rejoicing because of his help made him happy too, and especially fulfilled.
It was as though that cold, ruthless Daoist master from moments earlier had not been him at all.
"Brother Yuan, this sword really is useful. I poured thirty percent of my True Qi into the blade just now, and it actually held up without breaking. A dozen or so taels of silver-worth every bit."
"Holy shit, you actually dared do that? Weren't you afraid it would snap?"
"An honest merchant. If we want swords forged in the future, we'll go to them."
"Oh, right. That scholar asked me to pass on his thanks."
Zhang Junbao scratched his head. "It was no trouble. As long as their whole family is safe.
"So this is what being a great hero feels like. Helping the weak, cutting down the powerful and supporting the vulnerable. Tsk, it feels amazing."
Zhang Qingyuan thought of his previous life, when, at some point, people had stopped daring even to help an elderly person who had fallen.
People in this era were still simple and honest.
Looking at Zhang Junbao's flowing hair, Zhang Qingyuan suddenly asked, "Where's your hairpin?"
Zhang Junbao froze. "It fell outside the city."
"That was jade."
"I know."
"Even if it wasn't good jade, it was still a heartfelt gift from Senior Brother Miaoxin," Zhang Qingyuan reminded him.
"Fuck!" Zhang Junbao hastily turned around to look for the hairpin. That "fuck" fit the moment perfectly.
Though he did not know exactly how those two Chinese characters went together, he heard Brother Yuan say them all the time and had gradually come to feel that they were especially apt for expressing helplessness and frustration.
The two arrived outside the city gates, where the soldiers stationed there had already carried away the bodies.
They searched for a long time but could not find the hairpin.
They asked the soldiers who had collected the bodies, but all said they had not seen it.
It had been especially chaotic when the commoners left the city just now. Who knew if someone had picked it up?
Zhang Qingyuan gave an awkward laugh. Damn it, who said people in ancient times were simple and honest?
It seemed he had said it himself. Slap, slap-right across his own face.
He looked at Zhang Junbao. "That's what you get for showing off. Lost it, didn't you?"
Zhang Junbao sighed, instantly feeling betrayed.
"Bullshit!"
Pei Wuya quietly left Thousand Dragon City with his few remaining disciples. He no longer had the face to stay.
Losing face was a small matter. Losing over thirty inner disciples was the real problem.
Was training a few inner disciples easy?
His junior brother, Jiang Yi's master, had also fallen in the city. This time, the Mount Song Sword Sect had suffered a grievous blow to its vitality.
Hurry back and recover. Try not to let the other four mountain sword sects climb onto our heads and shit.
"Master, are we just going to swallow this?" a disciple asked indignantly. His brother had died beneath Zhang Junbao's sword.
Pei Wuya snapped, "Then I'll give you a sword. Go back and kill them both."
"This disciple can't do it."
Pei Wuya swept his sleeve and declared haughtily:
"Neither fucking can I!"