Zhang Yuanshan’s hair bun, usually meticulously tied, now looked slightly disheveled. His face revealed obvious emotions of anxiety, hesitation, self-reproach, and pain. For the first time, Meng Qi realized just how expressive a person’s face could be.
He had completely lost his usual composed and capable demeanor. After hearing Meng Qi’s words, his eyes flickered a few times, and he looked painfully and guiltily toward the nunnery before reluctantly turning his head and nodding with difficulty. “Okay.”
They descended the stone steps, followed a narrow path, and soon arrived at the main road. Before long, they reached a rather lively small town. The people bustling about were either wearing the distinctive Bagua robes of the Zhenwu Sect or dressed in ordinary clothing—some as Daoist priests, others as lay practitioners.
Throughout the journey, Zhang Yuanshan remained silent, staring ahead, lost in thought. Meng Qi didn’t rush to speak either. After all, even a fair judge would struggle with family matters. As a friend to both sides, he had no idea what stance he should take.
“This is Tonglong Town on the western side of Zhenwu Mountain. Many disciples come here to drink after descending the mountain,” Zhang Yuanshan finally managed to say with visible effort.
“Then let’s find an unfamiliar tavern,” Meng Qi replied calmly, trying to use his own composure to soothe Zhang Yuanshan, to prevent him from breaking down emotionally and doing something irreparable.
Familiar taverns might have people who recognized Zhang Yuanshan. If they overheard even a fragment of conversation or saw him in a drunken, pained state, rumors could spread, which would be problematic given the engagement between the Zhang and Song families.
Sigh, I really am considerate… In that moment, Meng Qi thought of neighborhood committee aunties, sympathetic big sisters, and hotline hosts. If not for being a true manly man, he might have shed tears too…
Zhang Yuanshan silently nodded and led Meng Qi through alleys to a very humble tavern. The walls were marked with muddy footprints and occasional bloodstains.
The tavern was a single-story building with about a dozen tables scattered inside. The air was foul, filled with noise and chaos, packed with all sorts of martial heroes, except for disciples of the Zhenwu Sect.
They passed through rows of drunken men with flushed faces and found an empty table in the corner. Meng Qi removed the long sword from his waist and placed it horizontally on the table for easy access. Sitting down, a sword would often be obstructed when drawn, slightly inconvenient, though it wouldn’t significantly affect an expert like himself. In life-or-death situations, even a moment’s delay could mean the difference between heaven and earth.
After so much wandering, Meng Qi had developed a basic martial artist’s awareness.
Seeing Meng Qi do this, Zhang Yuanshan suddenly became aware and removed his Tengshe Sword. Normally, he wouldn’t be so careless, but today, his mind was completely elsewhere.
They sat in mutual silence until the waiter brought two jars of “Nv’er Hong” rice wine, a plate of broad beans, and chopsticks and bowls as instructed.
Meng Qi lifted the jar, poured a bowl for both himself and Zhang Yuanshan, and raised his bowl. “Cheers!”
Zhang Yuanshan exhaled, raised his bowl, clinked it with Meng Qi’s, tilted his head back, and swallowed the entire bowl in one go, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Meng Qi did the same, feeling a burning sensation from his throat all the way to his stomach. He poured another bowl. “Cheers!”
Although the wine wasn’t strong, after three bowls, Meng Qi, who hadn’t drunk in a long time, felt slightly dizzy and nauseated, almost vomiting. He quickly picked up several broad beans and put them in his mouth.
Zhang Yuanshan drank hurriedly, his face reddening from the alcohol. Staring blankly at the broad beans in front of him, he suddenly spoke, “Meng Shidi, do you remember the first time you drank, how you choked and coughed?”
“I do,” Meng Qi replied, his face slightly reddening. That time, while completing the Dorchad mission, he had forgotten that this body had never drunk before. After downing the wine in one gulp, he not only felt nauseated but also choked, coughing violently. Zhang Yuanshan, anticipating this, kindly handed him a cup of green tea.
It was precisely this gesture that made Meng Qi truly feel that Zhang Yuanshan, usually as steady as a leader, was a friend worth befriending.
“At that time, even though there was danger and mission pressure, it was much more enjoyable than now…” Zhang Yuanshan said painfully, pouring another bowl and drinking it down. Without waiting for Meng Qi to reply, he continued on his own, “I didn’t see Zhenzhen, but I know she must be very sad and in pain, because I feel the same.”
“I always planned to pass the Zhenwu Big Dipper Formation, then descend the mountain and travel north, using the excuse of mutual affection during the journey to bring her home. But suddenly, the clan head and my father ordered me to become engaged to Mingxi Shimei.”
Meng Qi carefully kept rhythm by lightly tapping on the table, using the sound to balance Zhang Yuanshan’s voice, ensuring only he could hear.
He didn’t drink large mouthfuls anymore. The previous three bowls were mainly to help Zhang Yuanshan relax, creating a sense of openness for confession. If the one offering comfort ended up drunk himself, it would be embarrassing.
Zhang Yuanshan drank another bowl and, with red-rimmed eyes, said, “I know their intentions, so I can’t refuse. The Zhang family seems prosperous, but in reality, it’s not. For forty-seven years, no clansman has become a Grandmaster or made it onto the Earth List. We rely entirely on the old ancestors to maintain our position, and within the sect, things have become increasingly difficult. Meanwhile, the Yao family is thriving, with Grandmasters on the Earth List for three generations straight. The current Yao brothers are both listed among the Seven Prodigies of Zhenwu.”
“The Dao lineage focuses on cultivation and generally allows secular branches to compete as long as it doesn’t exceed certain limits. But the Yao family is aggressive, pressing us relentlessly without giving us any breathing space. Thus, forming an alliance with the Song family, who are in a similar situation, became the best and most effective choice.”
The Zhenwu Sect is divided into the Dao lineage and secular branch. Although the sect leader has always come exclusively from the Dao lineage, they do not prohibit disciples from the secular branch from practicing the fundamental techniques, making it a unique sect among the three major Daoist sects.
Zhang Yuanshan was still speaking coherently, retaining his basic rationality, but as he continued, his emotions grew increasingly intense.
“I am a member of the Zhang clan. My flesh and blood are all gifts from my parents. Food, martial arts, elixirs, and clothing—none of these would exist without my parents and family. Now that the family is in such a state, how can I indulge in romantic feelings and plunge them into crisis?”
“Parental kindness is as heavy as a mountain,” Meng Qi sighed.
Zhang Yuanshan poured another bowl of wine and, with a voice on the verge of tears, said, “But I can’t bear to part with Zhenzhen. I don’t want to see her sad or in pain. I want to ride horses with her across the martial world, singing freely by the East Sea…”
Meng Qi tapped the table while listening quietly, a sudden thought arising in his mind: “The word ’emotion’ hurts the most.”
The usually composed and gentle Zhang Shixiong, a born leader, had now lost all his former poise. To anyone who saw him at this moment, he appeared as nothing more than a lovesick drunkard.
When Zhang Yuanshan had calmed down somewhat, Meng Qi said, “Senior Brother Zhang, you and I share a bond forged in life-and-death situations. Zhenzhen is also my sworn friend. Between the two of you, on one side is the kindness of parents greater than the heavens, and on the other, profound love and mutual vows. I truly don’t know what to say or what advice to offer. That’s why I said earlier, ‘You speak, and I’ll listen. Whatever difficulties you face, I will help you without hesitation. As a friend, this is all I can do.’”
“But why specifically must it be you for the arranged marriage?”
Zhang Yuanshan vented a bit and felt slightly better, forcing a bitter smile. “The Song family directly requested me. Mingxi Shimei is one of the Seven Prodigies of Zhenwu. For this marriage alliance, among the Zhang family’s younger generation, they only consider me worthy. After all, I’ve opened six acupoints and preliminarily mastered a peak-level Outer Scenery sword technique, placing me among the Seven Prodigies of Zhenwu.”
Meng Qi nodded thoughtfully. Judging by the timeline, perhaps influenced by his family’s situation, Zhang Yuanshan had forcibly opened his nasal acupoint using the “Tianshi Diting Pill.”
Zhang Yuanshan mocked himself. “I’ve always known clearly that the foundation of an alliance isn’t an engagement, but my father told me, if we can’t even manage an engagement, how can we convince others of our alliance’s sincerity? How could I refuse?”
He was quite drunk now, asking and answering himself. “I couldn’t refuse. Among this generation of the Seven Prodigies of Zhenwu, Yanghe is the most favored, followed by Yangtai and the Yao brothers. Mingxi and I are relatively weaker. Only by uniting can we gain the attention and respect of the sect leader and the Dao lineage.”
“Although Yanghe has only opened four acupoints, he’s like our former junior sister Jiang, who, at a young age, comprehended a Grandmaster-level killing move from the ‘Seven Cuts Sutra of Zhenwu.’ Even if he only grasped the surface, it still inspires admiration and fear,” he rambled, his thoughts wandering. “Yangtai has six stable acupoints and has mastered the Tai Chi martial art to a moderate degree, acquiring its essence. Not only is he no worse than anyone who has mastered an Outer Scenery technique, but his foundation is even more solid, promising rapid advancement in the future. He recently passed the Zhenwu Big Dipper Formation and has already descended the mountain for cultivation journeys.”
“Yao Xinghen also has six stable acupoints and mastered two Outer Scenery killing moves long ago, his strength surpassing mine. He’s preparing to challenge the Zhenwu Big Dipper Formation. Yao Xingliu is only seventeen and has already opened four acupoints, mastering a peak-level Outer Scenery sword move. He’s a martial arts fanatic, fully devoted to the martial path, and is highly regarded by many elders…”
Listening to Zhang Yuanshan’s words, Meng Qi secretly marveled. The competition within prestigious sects was truly terrifying. Fortunately, he had already left the Shaolin Temple. The Zhen generation had only begun seven or eight years ago, and Shaolin martial arts often progressed slowly, not yet reaching their peak.
“Right now, I can’t match them. I can only do my best to contribute to the family,” Zhang Yuanshan said, his eyes hollow, his voice distant. “Sometimes, I feel like my parents, expectations, engagement, the Seven Prodigies of Zhenwu, the clan head, and the ancestors are like ropes binding me, like stones pressing on my heart, restricting my freedom, making me feel oppressed and heavy, wishing I could cut these shackles with one sword stroke and regain my freedom.”
“But it’s only occasional thoughts. They’ve been so good to me. How could I bear to betray them? I can only… only…” His eyes reddened further. He poured another bowl of wine and drank it down in one gulp.
Meng Qi shook his head and said seriously, “Senior Brother Zhang, although as a friend, I can only drink with you and assist you with whatever you need, there’s something I must say. No matter what decision you make, you must act swiftly. Don’t procrastinate or hesitate.”
“If you value your family and relatives, then formally inform Miss Zhenzhen, completely ending her hopes, giving her a chance to recover. But if you choose Miss Zhenzhen, you must gather your courage, prepare for the possibility of being expelled from the family, find ways to break off the engagement, and try not to delay or harm the innocent Mingxi girl.”
Zhang Yuanshan stared blankly, his eyes filled with inner turmoil, while Meng Qi habitually tapped on the table.
At that moment, a drunken swordsman from a nearby table staggered over, shouting loudly, “From the moment we came in, you kid have been tapping ‘dududu, dududu.’ It’s been driving me crazy! Do you think you’re a woodpecker?!”
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