Chapter Twenty-Five: The Secret of the Brocade Box

“As expected, you do have some skill. Otherwise, I doubt you’d have dared to seize my Weiyuan Escort’s goods!” Mist of the Phantom World praised.
“Wait!” Zhang He raised a hand. “I didn’t seize your goods. They were ambushed by the Qingcheng Sect. I just happened to pass by and picked them up.”
“Go explain that to my blade!” Mist of the Phantom World had no intention of wasting words. He gathered his strength, spun in place, and struck down with a powerful, slanting slash.
This blow was beyond what Zhang He’s finesse could deflect. As the blade danced, a violet light flashed—the pressure on Zhang He’s chest was suffocating, and formless yet tangible energy radiated from the blade. This was undoubtedly internal power unleashed as a mighty force, enveloping a five-meter radius. It was not something a mere first or second-tier practitioner could withstand head-on.
At that moment, a sharp whistling sound tore through the air behind Mist of the Phantom World. Remarkably, Mist of the Phantom World managed to withdraw his blade mid-strike, parrying seven or eight times in an instant. Black Greenpeak Darts thudded to the ground.
Zhang He exhaled. The newcomer was no pushover, able to launch eight Greenpeak Darts at once—could a higher-level Qingcheng player have arrived?
Sure enough, a figure leapt from the undergrowth—a classic Taoist robe, a bamboo hat, a Thunder Hammer in hand, and a badge on his chest marking him as a Qingcheng Sect Hall Master.
Mist of the Phantom World gripped his blade and sneered. “So it’s Shi Liuxiang. Good. A few Qingcheng upstarts dare ambush my Weiyuan Escort? I’ll send you back to town to cool off.”
With a twist of his blade, he attacked Shi Liuxiang. Shi Liuxiang’s Thunder Hammer met the strike, and the two clashed with a flurry of blows, energy bursting, grass and branches flying. In their eyes, Zhang He had become invisible, mere air between them.
Zhang He understood their mindset—his life or death meant nothing to them. What mattered was who secured the brocade box first. As the two fought fiercely, Zhang He quietly retreated into the grass, intending to slip away before the main forces of Qingcheng and Weiyuan arrived. If not now, when?
But he hadn’t gone far up Youming Mountain before a stern-faced man emerged from beneath the pines ahead.
Zhang He’s expression darkened as well. It was none other than Dao Xing Tianxia.
After being frightened off earlier, Dao Xing Tianxia quickly realized he’d been duped. Unable to sense Zhang He’s whereabouts, he was filled with regret and anxiety. When Qingcheng dispatched hundreds of players to encircle Youming Mountain, Dao Xing Tianxia volunteered to lead a group of dozens for a carpet search up the mountain.
This time, Zhang He’s luck ran dry—he was directly confronted by Dao Xing Tianxia, and a fight was inevitable.
“I’ll give you one minute to run. I won’t stop you,” Dao Xing Tianxia said, murderous intent radiating from him.
Zhang He actually smiled. “In fact, I’m an actor.”
Had he not spoken, it would have been fine, but the words made Dao Xing Tianxia’s blood nearly boil out of his veins—the insult was too much to bear.
Furious, Dao Xing Tianxia didn’t bother with Greenpeak Darts but swung his Thunder Hammer straight at him.
This Qingcheng signature weapon was like an oversized hammer, whirling with force and momentum. From senior disciples upward, all Qingcheng members could learn the “Nine Qing Strikes, Eighteen City Breaks”—a technique requiring the Thunder Hammer and formidable inner strength.
If any of the “Four Qingcheng Talents” had executed this style, Zhang He wouldn’t have withstood even a single move. But Dao Xing Tianxia, a mere second-tier, was clearly unsteady—his “Nine Qing Strikes, Eighteen City Breaks” looked like a drunken blacksmith swinging a giant hammer.
But Zhang He was not only sharp-eyed but a skilled performer. He dodged and weaved as if drunk, then suddenly gave a miserable cry, taking a blow to the back from the Thunder Hammer, a red damage value of “–102” appearing as he fell flat.
Dao Xing Tianxia was overjoyed and raised the hammer for another strike, but before he could bring it down, pain shot through the back of his knee, his leg went numb, and he dropped to one knee. Zhang He, already on the ground, activated “Heroic Spirit Surges” and “Assault Swordplay”—his attack output, usually 110, now increased by 20% to 132. His first sword at Dao Xing Tianxia drew a red “–58” damage.
Zhang He rolled forward, passing right between Dao Xing Tianxia’s legs, and his second sword slashed the back of Dao Xing Tianxia’s ankle—a critical hit: “–116!”
Dao Xing Tianxia was immobilized. Zhang He sprang up, delivering several swift, skillful blows—not stabbing or chopping, but rapidly carving a “W” on Dao Xing Tianxia’s back. The moves flowed seamlessly, damage values piling up like mowing grass:
Red damage: “–42!”
Critical hit: “–102!”
Critical hit: “–120!”
Red damage: “–56!”
The seventh strike, a direct thrust, was more than enough to finish any second-tier opponent.
As Dao Xing Tianxia collapsed, Zhang He was startled and instinctively flicked a coin to his left.
A shadow flipped out of the grass, landing in a series of acrobatic backflips. Only then did Zhang He see her clearly.
A tall, striking figure with a cold, beautiful face, her attire exuded heroic vigor. The Watersplitter at her waist gleamed icily in the dusk. Zhang He exhaled in relief. “It’s you.”
Zhong Shuman replied coolly, “I merely took a breath, and you noticed.”
Zhang He sneered. “You’re clever—lying low here, no one would find you.”
Zhong Shuman crossed her arms. “Have you changed class yet?”
Zhang He answered, “No.”
She asked, “What level are you now?”
“Twenty-eight.”
She seemed to draw a sharp breath. “A level 28 whiteboard took out a Qingcheng senior disciple and two normal disciples? No one would believe it.”
Zhang He watched her for a long time before saying, “So you’re after the brocade box too?”
Zhong Shuman didn’t answer directly but instead asked, “Do you realize what a disaster you’ve stirred up today?”
Zhang He raised his weapon—the sword Zhong Shuman had once given him. Though he was not fond of making friends, he disliked owing favors: “I don’t want to fight you. You should go. It’s chaos down there—be careful not to get hurt by mistake.”
“I don’t want to fight you either. And if we did, you might not be my match,” Zhong Shuman said coldly. “I’ll just ask, can you keep the brocade box safe? Do you know how many forces are down there? Let me tell you. All the Qingcheng elites are here except the Four Qingcheng Talents; Weiyuan Escort’s five deputy chiefs are here, and so is Chief Escort Master Dragon of Heaven. Tang Clan has two fourth-tier guardians on the mountain. From Starfire Sect, you’ve seen Ghost Rain Maple—he’s at the foot of the mountain with three guardians…”
The more Zhang He listened, the more alarmed he grew. For a mere brocade box, so many sects in the Yizhou district had been set in motion. Regardless of how strong these guards and chiefs were, any one of them could easily crush him. He couldn’t help but ask, “What’s inside this box?”
Zhong Shuman replied, “What’s inside isn’t important. What’s important is that you can’t keep it for long. Do you really want all these sects to pin you at the Reincarnation Stone and beat you back to zero?”
Zhang He sneered, “So what do you suggest? Should I hand this hot potato to you and be done with it?”
“If you still trust me after our last partnership, come with me now,” Zhong Shuman said.
Zhang He fell silent. He understood the dangers of the pugilistic world and the unpredictability of people, but he truly couldn’t fathom why Zhong Shuman was here or what she was after.
Seeming to sense his doubt, Zhong Shuman offered, “I’m not qualified to hold that box either. I just want to take you to someone. Once you meet them, you’ll understand.”
Zhang He nodded. “Fine, I’ll trust you this time. Since you’re a woman, I’ll show you some courtesy.”
A frosty layer settled on Zhong Shuman’s face. “Then remember, it’s a woman who’s saving your life this time.”
The person they were to meet wasn’t far—waiting at the mountainside temple.
By now, night had fallen completely, the sky remote and resplendent, countless stars clustering around a faintly glowing Milky Way. The beauty of the night, the vastness of the scene, was breathtaking.
Before the temple, under the starry sky, stood a tall, handsome player gazing calmly at the bonfires scattered across the mountainside. His expression was serene, as if watching countless fireflies rise.
Dressed in a blue-and-white traditional swordsman’s robe, with a wide, flat sword case strapped to his back, he looked every inch the wandering swordsman.
Zhang He knew enough to recognize that anyone who carried such a sword case in the martial world was no ordinary man—at minimum, this meant his secondary class was swordsmith, at least a master-level blacksmith.
After Zhong Shuman spoke with the swordsman for a while, he turned and beckoned, “Young brother, come here a moment.”
Zhang He didn’t move. He was never one to lose his nerve. “I’m not coming.”
Both the swordsman and Zhong Shuman were taken aback. Zhang He said coolly, “If you’re after the brocade box too, I suggest you save yourself the trouble.”
The swordsman paused, then laughed. “You’re right, I admit it. I am Cloud Wanderer. I hope you’ll show me some respect.”
Zhong Shuman frowned. “Brother Wu, this is Brother Cloud—a great hero among us. He’s here at Chief Escort Master Dragon of Heaven’s request to retrieve the brocade box for the Weiyuan Escort.”
We made the rankings! Thank you, brothers. I won’t say more—on to the next chapter!