Chapter Seventy-Three: The Swiftness of the Swallow

When masters clash, the aim is always to land a decisive blow with a single strike—this saying could not be more true. After the two experts drifted back onto their respective stone pillars, Brother Yan was still standing, but his sword had been sheathed, and his face was deathly pale—clearly, his opponent’s palm had dealt him a grievous internal injury.

As for Brother Bai, his condition was even worse. He had sat down cross-legged, eyes tightly shut, his temples twitching violently, undoubtedly focusing his energy on healing his wounds. Yet, blood continued to gush from his abdomen, and damage values kept flashing above his head:

“-12!”

“-23!”

“-8!”

“-18!”

...

For fighters of their caliber, such damage might be negligible compared to their constitution, but anyone with a discerning eye could see Brother Yan’s divine sword must have some added damage attribute. Judging by the numbers, Brother Bai’s injuries were far more severe.

Though Brother Bai kept his eyes closed, he still spoke loudly: “Brother Yan, your swordplay is flawless. I concede defeat.”

Brother Yan was silent for a long while before sighing, “Who says you have lost, Brother Bai? In truth, I am the one who should concede.”

He had always been a proud man, so his words came as a shock to the three standing by, including the Discipline Inspection Secretary; none could understand why he would admit defeat.

Brother Bai replied, still with eyes closed, “A loss is a loss; a win is a win.”

“Why be so stubborn, Brother Bai?” Yan sighed. “Had you not been distracted just now, the wounds I suffered would have been far worse.”

Brother Bai retorted sharply, “Who says I was distracted?”

Yan’s gaze flickered almost imperceptibly in the direction of Zhang He and his companions. “If you hadn’t sensed people approaching the shore, why would your palm strike have lost so much power? Your heart wavered, and so you held back.”

Zhang He was truly startled then. He’d thought the four of them had approached undetected, but evidently, these two experts had noticed from the start—their skill was beyond anything he’d ever seen.

Brother Bai said no more, tacitly acknowledging the truth in Yan’s words.

Yan cupped his fists. “Even when distracted, you were able to strike with such force. In this, I am truly ashamed.”

Brother Bai’s tone softened. “Since you could detect this, there’s no need to speak of victory or defeat. I hold you in deep respect.”

A moment ago, they had fought to the death, yet now, both severely wounded, they expressed respect for each other. The three onlookers felt their blood surge with excitement and found themselves genuinely admiring these two masters.

They might not know why these two had turned the world upside down and earned such notorious red names, but it was clear they were not self-righteous heroes. Instead, they acted as they pleased, upright and unashamed, never seeking advantage through underhanded means.

Only those whose martial skills had reached a certain level could possess such composure.

Yet, what could have driven these two to fight so desperately here?

There was no time to ponder this, for Brother Yan had already leapt from his stone pillar and was skimming across the water toward them, his movements exuding lethal intent. It was obvious he did not plan a peaceful encounter.

The Discipline Inspection Secretary was about to make a run for it, but Zhang He grabbed his arm.

Zhang He’s face was grim. “Don’t run. We can’t escape.”

The Secretary froze, then nodded in silent agreement. Zhang He was right—anyone who could move so swiftly while gravely injured was not someone they could outrun.

Brother Yan quickly reached the edge of the woods, his expression dark and his eyes cold and sharp.

“What are you doing here?” He did not ask about their origins, but their purpose. Judging by his stance, it seemed almost certain a fight would break out.

“Comrade, we’re here for the treasure.” The words stuck in the Secretary’s throat, but he could not get them out; Yan’s gaze was so sharp it felt like a blade, treating the four of them as enemies of his class.

He might respect Brother Bai, but that did not mean he respected them. If he decided they were in the way, it would not be surprising if he killed them all.

In the martial world, the strong decide who lives and who dies—an ironclad truth.

“Comrade, we’re just passing through,” the Secretary answered, not particularly convincingly.

The Union Vice-Chair quickly added, “Yes, yes, we’re conducting a terrain survey, drafting a proposal for an economic development project to boost the local economy and...”

While Zhang He could understand her words, it was clear Yan did not, as his expression grew even darker and his right hand crept toward his sword pouch, as if preparing to draw.

“Wait!” Zhang He suddenly raised a hand. “We’re here to gather herbs.”

“Oh?” Yan’s hand paused mid-movement.

Zhang He did not miss this subtle shift and pressed on, “We really are here to gather herbs.”

Yan glanced over all four of them. “Are you alchemists?”

“I am. My secondary role is, but the other three aren’t! They’re just here to dig for me!” Zhang He knew that not a single word could be wrong now. He could tell Yan was far beyond his own abilities; he had to keep the man calm at all costs.

Yan seemed quite satisfied with this response.

A veteran of the martial world, he had many ways to test the truth of their words.

“What potion are you making?” Yan’s tone was much less severe.

Zhang He was prepared. He fished out a single “Just Kidding” pill and tossed it over, but did not send a trade request.

Yan examined it, his eyes flickering with thought. After a while, he tossed the pill back. “How many of these do you have?”

“Not many,” Zhang He replied. “Still need more materials to make more.”

The three officials watched, amazed. The atmosphere had just been thick with murderous intent, yet now Yan was at ease, with no sign of hostility. They couldn’t help but look at Zhang He in admiration—he seemed perfectly calm, as if he were here for a leisurely stroll rather than a treasure hunt.

Yan asked again, “How many do you have on you right now?”

Zhang He fell silent. Of course, he wouldn’t reveal how many pills he had—only a fool would volunteer that information. In fact, since leaving Fuling County, he had little else on him but a plentiful supply of “Just Kidding” pills.

In the martial world, safety comes first.

A faint smile seemed to flicker on Yan’s face. “No harm meant—I’ll buy all you have, two silver taels per pill. What do you say?”

The three officials’ eyes went wide.

Everyone here was about the same level, dressed in equally shabby clothes, none of them particularly impressive. Yet, clearly, Zhang He was in high demand, able to do business even in a desolate place like this. None of the others could figure out why. And what kind of miraculous medicine could be worth two taels of silver per pill?

Was it an elixir from the Supreme Elder’s Eight Trigram Furnace?

If the mainland were filled with businessmen like Zhang He, there would be no poverty, no economic stagnation!

While the Secretary thought such things, Zhang He suddenly turned deaf and mute, as if he could neither hear nor speak.

Yan frowned, then smiled. “Three taels per pill. That’s a generous offer.”

Only then did Zhang He look up, a faint smile in his eyes as well. “Fine, you said three taels per pill.”

Yan finally grinned. “But there is one condition.”

“What condition?” Zhang He asked.

“My condition is simple. As you saw, I have a duel arranged here with Brother Bai. Now that I’ve bought your medicine, I can trust you, but you must not leave the area around Green Ripple Lake. If you bring others, it will distract us. Of course, you’re free to gather and refine herbs here, and who knows, you might make a tidy profit.”

“Oh...” The three officials were enlightened. So, the two were here for a duel, likely to spar and clear their red names while honing their weapon skills.

Yan’s expression turned cold again. “However, if you break this agreement, don’t blame me for being merciless.”

At this, all four of their faces changed, but Zhang He immediately nodded and smiled. “No problem at all, not a problem.”

The transaction was quickly completed: fifteen “Just Kidding” pills for thirty taels of heavy silver, all of which now weighed down Zhang He’s pocket. He also learned Yan’s name—Yan Yishan.

Zhang He quickly searched his mind for the name Yan Yishan among the top experts of the Central Plains.

The result was indisputable. Of all the formidable fighters he’d met, the most impressive was still the renowned swordsman Cloud Walker of Yangzhou, one of the “Three Swords.” As for the second, the Elder Player was the one Zhang He missed most.

Taking advantage of others is not wrong; the key is whether you have the right and the opportunity to do so.

Yan Yishan, after buying the medicine, leapt back to his pillar in the lake and resumed his standoff with Brother Bai, who sat cross-legged, as calm as a monk in meditation.

The four in Zhang He’s party circled the lake. From Yan Yishan’s distant vantage, the four seemed to be diligently searching, digging here and there for herbs—though in truth, they were too far off for him to see clearly. If he really knew what they were up to, that would be remarkable.

After a lap around the lake, they had not seen a trace of treasure, not even a single glowing herb, though they did scare off quite a few wild birds and rabbits.

The Union Vice-Chair grew discouraged. “Boss, the project document clearly says the treasure is here at Green Ripple Lake, but after all this time, we haven’t found a thing.”

The Finance Director muttered, “Yeah, chief, did you get the forum’s project document wrong again?”

The Discipline Inspection Secretary, clearly not one for patience, insisted, “Let’s do another lap around the lake and prepare a detailed terrain survey and a standard regional assessment report...”

With a thud, the other three dropped to their knees.

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