Second Inn
For there to be such a peaceful inn at the crack of dawn was not just rare but suspicious, yet it was left alone. Ever since a few special guests chose to lodge here, business declined along with its popularity. In spite of that, the proprietor showed no signs of concern because merely being able to catch a glimpse of them was worth closing shop for two months, let alone having the honour of their business mentorship. As per the prior days, they leisurely chatted on the first floor without batting an eye.
“Wang Sanping is dead,” declared a man attired in teal. “He lost his life on the way to Hangzhou.”
Song Lian, also referred to as Song Zhiming, did not look anywhere near as old as his biological age. The resident of Yangzhou’s Song Fortress was referred to as “Martial World Marquis” among folks of the pugilistic world. Thus, his words held a lot of weight.
“If the goal is insurrection, it’s a good thing,” remarked an elder, face virtually buried in his own beard and hair.
“Hahaha.” The elder slammed the table. “Hey, Monk, you’re not the culprit, are you?”
The elder’s smile was contagious in the sense that it could affect one’s mood for the better or worse as if it was invisible magic. When he smiled, the atmosphere was joyous. When he paused, it rendered people apprehensive. It worked as well at the business table as it did against warriors. Some even touted it as a Heart Realm discipline, but it was really just Patriarch Jin’s natural talent. While he could not explain how he did it, he could sense one’s mood effortlessly.
Ru Xing could intimidate somebody quite advanced in their internal-energy training with a mere glare, but he had been unable to persuade the four patriarchs present regardless of how he wagged his tongue. They either provoked him, inebriated him, deployed mockery or resorted to brushing him off. They had maintained an ambivalent attitude regarding their stance between mutiny and loyalty to the imperial court; he had been treated as a close friend on his last leg.
The handsome monk had faith that the four of them had bottom lines that might have been different or perhaps unspoken due to personal ambitions, intelligent people who had decisive opinions about the Seven Champion White Princes’ situation at present, not folks who were playing the passive game. Therefore, instead of trying to persuade them, he patiently waited for a change; no matter how miniscule the change was, it might have been enough to determine what the four clans were thinking.
He shook his head and softly replied, “This one would not dare to challenge Hero Wang, let alone be qualified to. Putting himself aside, there are only a select few here who could do so considering the level of the South’s Six Greats.”
All four patriarchs went silent at the thought of Wang Sanping’s skills. After all, they were unlikely his match even at their best.
Song Lian raised his head and, in a low voice, remarked, “They are ready now.”
Like a fleeting flash of lightning, the four patriarchs reached into the pot, snagged a meatball each and stuffed it into their mouths. As they blew from their mouths to quell the heat, the aroma permeated.
Jin Buhuan said, “The smell of hot pot in the city could be smelt from outside the city and had me starving. I knew this was the right choice.”
Ru Xing’s confidence in the four dipped a tad.
Song Lian expressed, “The texture and quality are second to none. You have fantastic taste, Brother Jin.”
“That goes without saying.” Jin Buhuan set his bowl down. “Where were we?”
“We were talking about Hero Wang…”
“Ah, right, I don’t think you’re his match, either. If you challenge him, he’d end you in a single strike. Monk, don’t start on him, okay?”
“… Even if this one wanted to, we are now in two separate worlds…”
“True that, hahaha. Starting on him would mean actually dying, huh?”
Song Lian shook his head. “Wutong Jin Yuxuan holding their big event now is bound to cause trouble in Hangzhou.”
“Would we be gathering here if not for it? Say something useful for a change. If you two have something to say or wind to pass, get it out already.”
Ling Yaoshi finally raised his hand.
Jin Buhuan: “You.”
“This one needs to pass wind.”
Jin Buhuan clicked his tongue. “Let it out outside! Can’t you see we’re eating?!”
Ling Yaoshi responded, “This one meant that figuratively, in the sense that he has something useless to say.”
“Tsk, spit it out.”
“If Wang Sanping died on his journey to Hangzhou, he was definitely killed.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“But have you thought about the culprit’s motive? This one suspects that they have big plans if they are going to take such a big risk.” Ling Yaoshi, smiling, continued, “He is Marquis Dubu’s only son, after all.”
They all went silent again. The Seven Champion White Princes knew Wang Sanping was Wang Du’s son. Dark Robe Brotherhood had distanced themselves from the martial world’s affairs in recent years, but that did not mean they were tame. If nobody else, then Wang Du was not a paper tiger.
Bai Zhiqing voiced, “This one also needs to pass wind.”
Jin Buhuan snapped, “Hurry up.”
Everyone suddenly jumped out of their seats.
“Hey! Fart outside if you’re going to fart!”
“Brother Bai, eat more vegetables!”
“We’re eating!”
Bai Zhiqing innocently responded, “Did you not tell this one to hurry up?”
“I didn’t mean it like that! Get out!”
Bai Zhiqing obediently left the room. The truth was, he was sick of listening to them and wanted to go to his wife. Alas, as soon as he stepped outside, he saw a scene that sent him off the rails. “Hey! Get away from my wife!”
Glossary
Fart and Useless Things – In Mandarin, “farting” is synonymous with spouting tripe. Unfortunately, I can’t think of any way to make this joke work in English because of Bai Zhiqing actually releasing a toxin bomb.
Previous Chapter l Next Chapter
