Volume One: City Turmoil Chapter Eleven: The Big Shot Arrives

Zhang Heng gazed at the spot where the old beggar had vanished, grumbling furiously to himself. That shameless old man—if he didn't want to answer, he could have simply refused; was it really necessary to insult me? Where was the dignity befitting someone of his strength?

He had hoped the old man was a true master; if he could befriend him, perhaps he might have a chance to improve his own constitution. Alas! It seemed that was no longer possible.

After a while, Zhang Heng confirmed the old beggar—well, that was a habit, but someone so formidable couldn’t possibly be a beggar. He should say, after confirming the departure of that shameless elder, Zhang Heng’s mood shifted from gloom to elation. He dove greedily toward the corpses scattered around.

After a frenzy of scavenging, Zhang Heng lugged a hefty sack of treasures and quietly made his way back to the Zhang residence. Naturally, with all those people dead, their spirit stones and pills were now ownerless—a windfall for anyone daring enough. If Zhang Heng didn’t take them, someone else surely would.

Moments later, safely returned to his small wooden hut, Zhang Heng finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Young master, you’re back! Are you alright?” The girl hurried over, concern etched on her face.

“I’m fine. Heaven favors the virtuous, so worry not. Go and rest,” Zhang Heng replied, her worried expression stirring within him a long-lost sense of care.

After Xiao Hong left, Zhang Heng began to inventory his spoils. Soon, he realized—he had struck it rich.

Although most of the items were unfamiliar, Zhang Heng recognized the spirit stones and pills. There were hundreds of spirit stones and dozens of pills. Countless other manuals and artifacts filled his bag.

As for the pills’ effects, he could study them slowly; if he truly couldn’t identify them, he could always exchange them for spirit stones at the Pill Pavilion.

Among the haul, a sheepskin scroll caught his eye—it was clearly part of a treasure map. As the protagonist (after all, he was a transmigrator—who else could be the protagonist?), Zhang Heng had the best chance of piecing it together.

At last, he didn’t have to worry about starving. He could finally get a good night’s sleep. Zhang Heng lounged on his bed, brimming with fantasies about the wonderful life awaiting him in this strange world.

He had been through much today and needed a moment to recover.

When the scarred blade descended, even though Zhang Heng’s eyes were shut, he could distinctly feel the suffocating aura of death. Moreover, seeing more than a dozen corpses at his feet left him shaken—even for a transmigrator, it was difficult to process.

After all, it was his first time.

The next morning, Zhang Heng handed Xiao Hong a shabby spirit stone and asked her to buy some food. He had been here four days and only eaten meat once, making his already weak body even worse.

Seeing Zhang Heng produce a low-grade spirit stone, Xiao Hong was stunned. Had the young master sold himself?

Remembering that Zhang Heng had followed an old beggar last night, the girl’s eyes welled with grateful tears.

Zhang Heng didn’t think much of it and assumed she was weeping from joy.

With feigned grandeur, he said, “Take it, spend as you wish. I have plenty more.”

When Xiao Hong brought back meat, Zhang Heng couldn’t resist. The taste wasn’t remarkable, but after eating, he felt a cool energy flow through him, his pores opening, his whole body refreshed.

Was this spiritual energy? Truly miraculous.

After his meal of spiritual beast meat, he decided to wander around the Zhang estate—after all, he hadn’t properly explored it yet.

Really, if he didn’t walk about, how could he make his presence known?

Outside, Zhang Heng looked up at the sky for a long time. He was gradually acclimating to the rules of this world: strength was everything, the strong stood above all; the weak were like ants, forced to survive as best they could.

He thought he’d pay a visit to Zhang Tiedan, as yesterday’s gift was likely from him.

Arriving at the main gate, Zhang Heng spotted Zhang Tiedan diligently patrolling, showing no hint of pride after his recent accomplishment.

Zhang Heng strolled over.

Upon seeing Zhang Heng, Zhang Tiedan’s eyes flickered with shock—how could this brat, with no cultivation, have survived Scarblade’s pursuit?

Zhang Heng ignored him and placed a hand on his shoulder, saying, “Tiedan, keep guarding the gate well. I won’t treat you poorly. Don’t forget your duties—keep up the good work.”

Though Zhang Tiedan was seething inside, he had to swallow his anger. This was the Zhang family, and Zhang Heng was a direct descendant. Offending him would doom Tiedan for life.

“Yes, young master. I will serve you faithfully,” Zhang Tiedan replied, barely containing his fury.

Brat, next time you won’t be so lucky.

Zhang Heng smiled and walked away. This Tiedan was clever; a little hint and he knew what to do. He’d go home and plan his next move, hopefully bringing assassins with extra spirit stones.

Not bad, not bad. A promising pupil.

Yet Zhang Heng felt a sliver of worry; if he failed to awaken his potential, he’d be finished.

Clearly, he needed to find a powerful protector soon.

Last night’s events made it obvious: with someone strong backing him, even if he was weak, he could live comfortably in this world.

But how to find such a protector?

Zhang Heng wandered aimlessly through the Zhang estate. The place was indeed grand; along the way, he encountered dozens of servants and maids, and countless buildings and pavilions—a scene reminiscent of an ancient palace.

No wonder it was the second most prominent family in Liunan City; it truly had substance.

As he strolled, a large group approached from the opposite direction. The middle-aged man at the front had a resolute face radiating authority.

Seeing so many people, Zhang Heng stepped aside to let them pass. He wanted to be noticed, but he had to choose his targets wisely.

This group exuded an intimidating aura—clearly masters, at least stronger than himself.

The leader was probably a major figure in the Zhang family; angering him might mean instant death—a loss too great to risk.

Unexpectedly, despite Zhang Heng’s effort to avoid them, the leader stopped right before him.

Zhang Heng could only smile awkwardly and say, “Hello there.”

Inside, he wondered if he had somehow offended this person.

Before the man could reply, a guard on his left barked, “Insolent! How dare you not pay respects to the family head?”

The family head? That would be his uncle, Zhang Qingcang, the patriarch of the Zhang family and one of Liunan City’s top five experts at the Qi Sea level.

From what Xiao Hong had told him, this man was upright and courageous—a true strongman. Without him, Zhang Heng would have been kicked out long ago.

He had just been worrying about whose protection to seek.

And now, the opportunity had arrived.