Up in the mountains, at Listening Wind Stronghold.
Listening Wind Stronghold was large, and its discipline was better than that of ordinary bandit strongholds.
Its gate, built from massive logs, was solid and heavy.
The four reached the entrance. Zhu Zizhao pointed at the gate ahead and said, "This is Listening Wind Stronghold.
"We went inside just now. What was the stronghold chief called?"
"Chang Lai," Old Five reminded him.
"Right, Chang Lai. His name invites every stray cat and dog to come calling, but his attitude is incredibly arrogant," Zhu Zizhao said indignantly.
"Oh."
Zhang Qingyuan acknowledged him without saying much else.
After all, he had come for the grain, and the man certainly would not hand it over. They were bound to fight.
It would be either the man's death or his own survival. Whatever attitude the man took no longer mattered.
"Old Five, go call them out."
"Yes, Young Master."
Old Five bowed with utmost respect, then straightened his back and walked up to the gate.
"Tell your chief to come out!"
Carried by his internal power, his voice rang like a dragon's cry and a tiger's roar, echoing throughout the valley.
Zhang Qingyuan could not help feeling a little envious. With an expert like this as a guard, who needed a bicycle?
If I had a bodyguard like that...
He sighed inwardly. Everyone had their own fate; envy would get him nowhere.
He wants fine clothes and a spirited horse; I want silk robes and sumptuous meals.
People always envied the lives of others, while their own lives were envied in turn.
Shortly after his voice faded, the gate opened, and a burly man carrying a golden saber walked out.
A band of mountain bandits followed behind him, numbering around twenty or thirty.
Zhu Zizhao edged closer to Zhang Qingyuan and warned him, "This is Listening Wind Stronghold's second-in-command, Chang Lai's younger brother, Chang Feng."
Chang Feng swept his gaze over them, his face full of impatience, and rested his saber on his shoulder.
"Didn't we already tell you? Keeping the grain here lets us provide better disaster relief. Why won't you listen?"
Zhu Zizhao was instantly incensed by his words.
"You steal grain, then sell it to grain merchants at inflated prices. What the fuck kind of disaster relief is that? I've never seen anyone so shameless!"
"Pah!" Chang Feng spat and snorted. "How we provide disaster relief is our business, not yours. If you don't want to throw your lives away, hurry down the mountain."
"See? Just look at that arrogance," Zhu Zizhao told Zhang Qingyuan.
Zhang Qingyuan licked his dry lips and glanced at Old Seven.
I hope he isn't just an embroidered pillow.
"We're going straight in."
He took the lead, and Zhu Zizhao gave Old Seven a pat.
"Follow him."
Seeing that Zhang Qingyuan and the others not only refused to leave but dared to advance, Chang Feng blustered, "Fuck, we've given you too much face!"
With that, he hastily retreated.
He could talk tough, but he could not fight.
Why had they let them go earlier? Because Lord Dragon Lord had said the two guards beside that pretty boy were no less skilled in martial arts than he was. They had let them leave to avoid unnecessary casualties.
He knew his own limits, so after talking tough, he decisively retreated to call for backup.
Just as the gate was about to close, Zhang Qingyuan raised a hand and pointed. The Questioning Heart Sword immediately flew out, jamming the gate.
Then he hurried forward and killed the bandit closing it with a single palm strike.
Seeing that the gate had not closed, Chang Feng hurried inside, shouting as he ran, "Big Brother! Lord Dragon Lord! Someone's attacking the stronghold!"
Zhang Qingyuan took his sword. Old Five and Old Seven reached the entrance as well and helped push the gate open, and the four entered the stronghold one after another.
Beyond the gate was a broad street, wider even than the streets of an ordinary town. Carts stood along both sides, some still carrying grain that had yet to be fully unloaded.
"See? They stole all this and brought it up the mountain."
"They really deserve to die."
"Exactly."
The two exchanged a look.
Meanwhile, a squad of armed bandits was already running toward them.
Zhu Zizhao gave Zhang Qingyuan a meaningful look.
"Didn't you say you could handle it? These small fry are yours."
Zhang Qingyuan drew the Questioning Heart Sword with a ringing note and held it ready.
In an instant, his casual, flippant air vanished, replaced by the keen edge of a sharp sword.
"Don't chicken out," Zhang Qingyuan reminded him again.
"Who do you take me for?" Zhu Zizhao said.
Zhang Qingyuan sprang off the ground and shot forward.
This sword strike was incredibly fast, incredibly bright, and incredibly pleasing to the ear.
Just before he reached the bandit grunts, he swept his sword across. Sword Qi surged forth, pouring out for a thousand miles, and the five men at the front fell instantly.
Then he was like a wolf among sheep, or a farmer harvesting wheat, swinging his sickle at the lovely stalks in his field.
As Zhang Qingyuan swung his sword, Sword Qi and swordlight alternated. Clouds of bloody mist burst open, streams of blood splashed, and figures fell one after another.
The Twelve Immortal-Slaying Forms were for killing, not showing off.
This was the swordsmanship his old master took the most pride in. Every move was designed to kill. There were no flashy flourishes, only the purest killing moves.
The reason Zhang Qingyuan had gone so long without improving his swordsmanship was, ultimately, that swordsmanship like this was already sufficient for his current needs.
Zhang Qingyuan charged into the crowd, the sword beneath his Daoist robes harvesting the bandits' lives like an underworld reaper's soul-hooking staff.
Every strike was a textbook example of killing swordsmanship, and every strike brought down at least one man.
By the time everyone before him had been slaughtered, those behind them had already been frightened out of their wits.
Zhang Qingyuan stepped into the air, shifted, and streaked past like flowing light, radiance bursting in all directions. Wherever his swordlight passed, seven or eight men instantly fell, their heads severed from their bodies.
In less than a moment, the entire squad of over thirty men was dead.
Zhu Zizhao's startled cry came from behind him. "Excellent swordsmanship!"
Old Five also said, "What swordsmanship is this? Why have I never heard of it?"
Even the stern Old Seven could not resist commenting, "Killing swordsmanship taken to the extreme."
"This little Daoist really does have some skill. He really wasn't boasting."
Having seen how formidable Zhang Qingyuan was, Zhu Zizhao was now brimming with confidence. He told Old Seven, "Don't you dare embarrass this young master later."
"Yes."
Just then, windblown sand billowed ahead, and a mass of heads surged toward them.
The man in the lead wore black robes embroidered with dark gold dragons.
When they arrived and saw the corpses littering the ground, their expressions changed drastically.
Beside the man in dragon-patterned black robes stood a burly man who bore some resemblance to Chang Feng. Carrying a golden saber on his shoulder, he glared furiously at them.
"Who did this?"
"I did."
Before Zhu Zizhao could speak, Zhang Qingyuan answered first.
"Why did you kill my men?"
"Because they wanted to kill me." Zhang Qingyuan held his sword, and the blood clinging to its blade slid down the edge, dripping onto the ground and blooming into crimson flowers.
"Who are you?"
Chang Lai and the Dragon Lord had focused all their attention on Zhu Zizhao-or, more precisely, on Old Five and Old Seven beside him-and had paid little attention to Zhang Qingyuan.
Now, looking at Zhang Qingyuan again, they frowned.
"I came for the grain. The Chang Household's grain from Dingfeng County. Don't tell me you didn't take it," Zhang Qingyuan said.
"What a joke. We've already requisitioned the Tang Household's grain for disaster relief. As residents of Kaifeng, providing disaster relief is everyone's bounden duty."
Playing the whore while demanding a monument to your chastity.
"Disaster relief?"
Zhu Zizhao grew even angrier at that. "You call that fucking disaster relief? Despicable, shameless!"
The Dragon Lord stepped forward with a wicked smile. "We have our own way of providing disaster relief. We put in the most effort, so surely we deserve to earn a little money?"
Zhang Qingyuan nodded. "You do."
"You..." Zhu Zizhao froze when he heard Zhang Qingyuan agree.
"In that case, please leave."
Zhang Qingyuan shook his head. "We don't want to trouble you. We can do it ourselves. Surely that's fair too? Give us back the grain."
"Get lost!"
Zhang Qingyuan sighed.
"Fucking hell."
He raised his head, and his sword flashed out!