Volume One: City Under the Clouds Chapter Eight: Making Their Presence Known

After seeing Murong Qingxue off, Zhang Heng finally allowed himself to rest. In just one day since his arrival in this world, so many things had already occurred—he was truly exhausted and needed both sleep and time to contemplate his path forward.

Depending solely on Murong Qingxue was out of the question.

First, the Dao De Jing was not a cultivation manual to begin with, so it was unlikely Murong Qingxue would glean anything useful from it. Second, even if she did manage to uncover something, she was still young and inexperienced; that Tier Four Tranquil Heart Pill was already her limit, and it was doubtful such a thing would benefit Zhang Heng at all. Third, should the scripture be discovered by one of the high-ranking figures of the Linglong Holy Land and prove valuable, who was to say they’d reward him for it? Wouldn't they just seize it outright?

Thus, Zhang Heng decided he must find his own way. But for now—enough thinking. He needed sleep.

Three days later, Zhang Heng finally came up with a plan.

He would make himself seen.

Murong Qingxue’s visit had made two things clear to him: first, his modern memories were unique and his only advantage; second, the reason he hadn’t encountered any of those overbearing, antagonistic situations so common in novels was simply because his presence was too faint.

When Murong Qingxue had arrived, his previously neglected little house was suddenly surrounded by people. After she left, the other disciples looked at Zhang Heng with hints of envy, resentment, and ridicule—emotions that hadn’t been directed his way even when he’d visited the Martial Arts Pavilion.

A useless man who couldn’t cultivate posed no threat to anyone’s interests; why would they waste their time on him?

If he did nothing, he’d remain a mere spectator—perhaps not even that.

Only by continually asserting his presence, exposing himself to everyone, and forcing others to notice his strengths would he stir up their resentment and jealousy. By pushing himself into danger, perhaps he could find a way to break through and turn the tables.

And even if nothing changed in the end, at least it would be better than passively accepting the fate others had assigned him.

No sooner thought than done. Zhang Heng called for Xiaohong immediately.

“Xiaohong, how many spirit stones do we have left?”

Zhang Heng had little concept of wealth, but he did know that these stones infused with the aura of heaven and earth were universally coveted. According to the records, cultivators could draw spiritual energy from them. Surely, they must serve as this world’s currency.

“Spirit stones? Young master, a single spirit stone would last us half a year. How could we possibly have any?” Xiaohong replied.

Zhang Heng sighed in resignation. Not only did he have to make himself known—he had to earn money as well. He had no intention of becoming the first transmigrator to starve to death.

“Xiaohong, bring brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Come with me for a walk,” Zhang Heng instructed.

“Yes, young master.” She didn’t understand what he was up to, but hurried off to prepare.

Shortly after, seeing Xiaohong ready, Zhang Heng said, “Follow me—we’re going out through the main gate.”

“Ah? Yes, young master.” Though surprised, she didn’t question him.

In the Kingdom of Willow, the Zhang clan was insignificant, but in this city of Southern Willow, it ranked as the second most powerful family. The Zhang family rules were strict: servants and maids were forbidden from using the main entrance. Because Zhang Heng couldn’t cultivate, he too had always entered and exited through the side door. But now, things were different—this was a golden opportunity to make himself noticed, and he wouldn’t let it slip away.

Arriving at the main gate, he saw eight burly guards standing in neat formation on either side, with squads of four patrolling back and forth—a true display of a great house.

Zhang Heng led Xiaohong toward the gate, feeling a tinge of nervousness. What if these men simply ignored him? That would be embarrassing.

But as they were about to step through, the burliest of the eight blocked their way with a hand, his tone cold: “Go back. You’re not allowed to leave through here.”

Hearing this, Zhang Heng was nearly moved to tears. At last, something was unfolding like a proper script!

He was just about to make a dramatic show of asserting himself when Xiaohong leaned in and whispered in his ear, derailing his focus in an instant.

“Young master, that’s Zhang Tiedan, the head gatekeeper. He’s always arrogant and makes trouble for us servants.”

Hearing this, Zhang Heng burst out laughing. “Hahaha! That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Zhang Tiedan—your name suits you perfectly!”

The man’s face darkened, his voice like thunder: “Say it again. Go back.”

He hated nothing more than people making fun of his name. Now, Zhang Heng had mocked him outright in front of his subordinates, making him lose face. If Zhang Heng weren’t a direct member of the family, the man would have lashed out on the spot.

Unfazed, Zhang Heng looked at the brawny man, raised his right hand, and—smack!—delivered a slap to Zhang Tiedan’s face.

His tone was cold: “How dare you stop me? My uncle is the head of the Zhang family, while you are just a dog. As for looks, I’m a paragon of elegance, and you’re ugly as sin. And your name—Zhang Tiedan—suits your station perfectly. What right have you to block my way? Move aside.”

Ignoring the guard’s furious glare, Zhang Heng pulled Xiaohong with him and strode out.

The burly man didn’t try to stop them again; after all, Zhang Heng was a direct descendant of the family and entitled to use the main gate. Watching Zhang Heng’s retreating figure, a sinister glint flashed in his eyes.

Once they were far away, Xiaohong gazed at her young master, her eyes shining. Today, he truly looked dashing.

Suddenly, Zhang Heng let out a loud cry, waving his right hand wildly and hopping in circles on the spot.

Well… that was still rather dashing…

At that moment, Zhang Heng felt a stabbing pain in his hand. Zhang Tiedan was at least at the sixth or seventh level of body refinement, his skin and flesh tough as leather, while Zhang Heng himself was only at the zero level. Not to mention, in order to make a statement, he hadn’t held back at all.

This body really was pitiful—he’d actually injured himself slapping someone.

Noticing Xiaohong’s astonished look, Zhang Heng forced himself to appear calm. He asked, “With such an odd name as Zhang Tiedan, if he dislikes it so much, why not change it?”

“That name was given by Old Master Zhang Lie—he wouldn’t dare,” Xiaohong replied with a giggle.

The burly man often bullied the servants, who could do nothing in return. Finding amusement in his ridiculous name was their only solace. Who’d have thought Old Master Zhang Lie had such a sense of humor?

“But, young master, what is it you’re planning to do?” Xiaohong, still confused, finally asked.

“You’ll see. I’m taking you to earn a little pocket money,” Zhang Heng answered with a mysterious smile.

“Earn money?” The girl reached out and felt Zhang Heng’s forehead, then her own, puzzled. “You don’t seem to be ill…”

Her young master was certainly good at spending money, but she’d never known him to make any.

Her innocent confusion was adorable, but Zhang Heng couldn’t help feeling a little exasperated.