Volume One: Turbulence in the Small Town Chapter Nineteen: The Peculiar Master and Disciple

The winds of change swept through Liunan City, gathering all the powerful figures from every corner. Yet Zhang Heng remained oblivious to these turbulent events, for he had been deep in the mountains for over a month.

Perhaps the presence of so many formidable cultivators had driven the spirit beasts into hiding; in all his time wandering the wilderness, Zhang Heng had not so much as glimpsed a single beast, not even a stray tuft of fur.

At this moment, perched on a small hill outside Liunan City, beside a crystal-clear stream, sat a delicate young maiden. She dangled her jade-like feet in the cool water, savoring nature’s refreshing touch, and tilted her head to call out, “Young master, are you done yet? I’m starving!”

The boy by the fire, busy roasting fish, rolled his eyes at her words and muttered under his breath, “Who’s the servant here and who’s the master, really? Has the world turned upside down?”

These two, of course, were Zhang Heng and Xiaohong, who had fled together to escape danger. Lacking any experience in wilderness survival, Xiaohong’s attempts at preparing food were practically inedible. Zhang Heng, on the other hand, had honed his culinary skills from a young age while caring for Old Man Zhang in his previous life. Thus, the honor of preparing their meals naturally fell to him.

Beautiful scenery, a lovely companion, and delicious food—there was a fleeting moment when Zhang Heng thought he might be content to live out his days in such simple peace.

“All right, it’s done!” he called, spearing two freshly roasted fish and heading toward Xiaohong.

He handed her one and sat down on a nearby stone, just about to indulge himself—only to discover that his own fish had vanished before his eyes! Gone, as if it had never existed. Outraged, Zhang Heng let out a cry.

Once, a cooked duck might have flown away from someone; now, his roasted fish had disappeared right before his mouth. This was utterly infuriating.

As Zhang Heng gaped in disbelief, two figures emerged from behind a nearby tree.

A man and a woman—the man’s face was frosty and unremarkable, a sword cradled in his arms. The woman was striking and dressed in a crisp, practical outfit; she was devouring a roasted fish with great gusto, singing its praises between bites: “Delicious! Absolutely wonderful!”

A pretty girl like her, yet she’d stooped to stealing someone else’s food—and ate so voraciously, too. Who would dare marry her in the future? Of course, Zhang Heng kept such complaints to himself; after all, this woman had just snatched his fish from a distance, a feat only a true cultivator could accomplish. He had no idea what level she was, but certainly beyond his reach.

In this wild and remote place, provoking such people would be sheer folly.

At that moment, the long-silent system chimed in his mind.

Ding! Congratulations, host, you have encountered a ninth-stage Nascent Soul cultivator—Sword Saint Dugu Bai.

Ding! Super Patron System quest activated. Target: Dugu Bai.
Reward: The Shadow Boat

Zhang Heng nearly jumped out of his skin at the system’s announcement. Ninth-stage Nascent Soul? Sword Saint? He didn’t know much about sword saints, but he knew the power of a ninth-stage Nascent Soul cultivator—that was the same level as Qian Muyun! Who would have thought this humble Liunan City would attract such a true powerhouse? (Wait, wasn’t Qian Muyun here too?) But that wasn’t the point. The point was that this wretched system now wanted him to win over Dugu Bai. Was it kidding? That icy face hardly seemed approachable.

Hey, system, any hints for me?

Ding! None.

Are you trying to get me killed?

By then, the pair had already approached.

“Hey, you there, that was some good fish. Got any more? Give me another,” the woman called out, still eating.

Dugu Bai looked for all the world like a man you didn’t want to cross, but perhaps the woman could be the key.

With this in mind, Zhang Heng composed himself, adopting the bearing of a young noble and offering a slight bow to the pair. “I never expected to meet a fellow food enthusiast in these wilds. Such a meeting is truly fate. My name is Zhang Heng; may I ask the lady’s name?”

That should do it, Zhang Heng thought, inwardly satisfied with his performance.

Xiaohong, watching from the side, was stunned. Knowing her young master’s temper, she would have expected him to storm over and start an argument—not to act so polite!

Alas, she couldn’t make sense of it.

The woman seemed unimpressed, waving her hand dismissively and replying with a look of disdain, “Don’t try that act with me. If you’ve got more fish, I’ll trade you a high-grade—no, a low-grade spirit stone for it.”

“So straightforward! Then I’ll be blunt as well,” Zhang Heng replied, “If you want more, including the one you just ate, that’ll be two low-grade spirit stones.”

He certainly didn’t need the stones, but different people required different approaches. This woman clearly had the boldness and candor of a wandering martial artist and would dislike pretentiousness.

Sure enough, she chuckled at his response, clearly pleased. “That’s more like it! All that flowery talk just gives me a headache.” She glanced back at her silent companion, Dugu Bai.

For a moment, the unflappable Dugu Bai’s expression shifted—he smiled, ever so slightly, when she looked.

The woman produced two spirit stones, tossed them lightly to Zhang Heng, and said, “I’m Yan Xueqing, and this ice-faced fellow is my master, Dugu Bai.” With that, she found herself a stone and sat down.

Zhang Heng was tempted to seize this opportunity, latch onto Dugu Bai, and exclaim, “Sword Saint Dugu Bai? I’m your biggest fan—could I have your autograph?” But he realized that, at his current level, he shouldn’t even know of the Sword Saint. He thought better of it.

Still, this system had its uses—not only did it identify people, but it even reported their cultivation levels. It was a true tool for showing off.

He called Xiaohong over to catch more fish, while he set about preparing the seasoning.

Naturally, extra fish were necessary—Yan Xueqing might claim she’d only eat one, but if she wanted more and stole his again, all his efforts would be wasted. Besides, Zhang Heng was confident in his skills; perhaps Dugu Bai would be won over by the taste, providing him with an opportunity to get closer.

When Xiaohong returned with more fish, Zhang Heng set to work. His movements were practiced, but he was meticulous all the same.

After all, the fish were ordinary fare, with no trace of spiritual energy in their flesh. If Yan Xueqing enjoyed them, it could only be for the flavor.

That night, Zhang Heng, Xiaohong, and Yan Xueqing sat around the campfire, enjoying the roasted fish. Dugu Bai sat apart, leaning against a great tree, sword in his arms.

Xiaohong, oblivious to who stood behind her, ate with gusto. Had she known he was one of the world’s supreme cultivators, she would surely have lost her appetite.

Unaware she might be, but Zhang Heng was not; he sat on pins and needles. “What should I do? There’s a Nascent Soul powerhouse right behind me, and I’m just sitting here eating fish. This won’t do—I have to find a way to get close to him.”

Hey, system, are you there?

Hey, hey—damn it, the system’s offline again.

He called out a few more times, but there was no reply.

It seemed he would have to rely on himself.

After thinking it over, Zhang Heng picked up a fish and walked toward Dugu Bai...