Hearing about the Dongyang Secondary Mansion, Meng Qi’s first thought was the Thatched Cottage Secret Realm mentioned by Li Chong, a marvelous place that only those with fate could enter. This could also explain why Old Zhong had followed Qiu Fei to Jiangdong, and had turned Cai the Constable, who was investigating near the ship, into a zombie to sneak into the cabin and eavesdrop on secrets.
But thinking carefully, Meng Qi sensed something amiss. If it truly was the Thatched Cottage Secret Realm, the undercurrents should be in Yangxia, not Maoling of Jiangdong. Could it be that the two were unrelated and Constable Cai had investigated in the wrong direction?
Suppressing his doubts, Meng Qi knocked out the servant, returned to the lower cabin, and instructed Zheng Jushan and Li Chong: “Keep a close watch on Qiu Fei’s movements.”
“Yes, sir.” Rank has its power, and besides, the Wind-Tracking Secret Agents would also submit confidential intelligence on constables. Zheng Jushan respectfully complied.
The next day, after Meng Qi had just woken up and practiced his sword and saber techniques, loosening his meridians, Zheng Jushan entered the courtyard.
“Su Qingshou,” Zheng Jushan whispered through sound transmission, “after confirming Old Zhong’s escape, Qiu Fei immediately boarded a ship bound for Jiangdong.”
“To Jiangdong?” Meng Qi was momentarily stunned.
Could this matter truly be connected to the undercurrents in Maoling of Jiangdong?
“Qiu Family’s large ship is loaded with goods bound for Jiangdong, but it’s uncertain whether Qiu Fei will disembark midway,” Zheng Jushan objectively described without adding personal judgment.
Meng Qi’s thoughts raced, thinking of the heroes and talents of Jiangdong, his blood boiling with excitement.
Then he would go to Jiangdong!
…
Autumn was clear and pleasant, the sky bright and sunny. Meng Qi gazed at the vast river surface, the rolling waves gently lapping against the ship’s railing. He softly recited, “The lone sail fades into the blue sky; only the Yangtze flows to the horizon.”
Such a scene and atmosphere could truly cleanse one’s soul, broadening the mind.
A month ago, after failing to locate the Thatched Cottage Secret Realm, Meng Qi boarded a passenger ship, following Qiu Family’s vessel downstream. He had not rushed along the journey and had just now entered Jiangdong territory.
Jiangdong, a combined reference to Jiangzhou and Pengzhou, lay east of the great river, also known as Jiangzuo (east being left). It had suffered the least damage during past calamities and maintained the ancient charm in its people and culture, producing countless talents and being the top destination for young martial artists from all regions seeking to hone their skills.
After a few deep breaths of the refreshing river breeze, Meng Qi returned to his cabin and took out an item from his bosom. This was the Jianghu Gazette he had just obtained at a secret Six Gates contact point when the passenger ship docked for supplies.
As the name implied, the Jianghu Gazette was a newspaper-like document issued by the Six Gates headquarters to prefectures, districts, and cities. It contained relatively important Jianghu news to prevent constables from being out of touch.
Published every two months in summarized form, it mostly covered the Externals, with a small portion involving the Openers.
Meng Qi skimmed through the External section without finding anything relevant to himself. However, when he reached the summary on Openers, he focused intently:
“‘Sword Immortaless’ Jiang Zhiwei appeared in Dizhou, defeating Cui Zhe, the twelfth in the Human Ranks, known as ‘Purple Extreme Sword.'”
“‘Shocking Hundreds of Miles’ Jiang Hengchuan has settled in Daxing of Jiangzhou, seemingly harmonizing his mindset for unity with heaven and earth.”
“‘Calculating All Beings’ Wang Siyuan has been seriously ill for a month, staying at the ancestral residence of the Wang Clan in Guangling of Jiangzhou, without leaving.”
Meng Qi’s fingers lightly tapped the table. The heir of the “Mathematical Classic” indeed suffered heavenly retribution, frail and sickly, destined to die young without reaching the Dharma Body. However, Jiangdong was truly living up to its reputation. Before even finishing, he had already found two top ten figures from the Human Ranks here:
“‘River of Saber Qi’ Yan Chong is practicing swordsmanship at the seaside of Pengzhou.”
“‘Young Lord Qinglian’ Liusu got heavily drunk at the Louwailou of Yingcheng.”
“‘Invisible Sword’ He Jiu has returned by sea, landing at Langya of Pengzhou.”
“A suspected sighting of ‘Wolf King’ Tie Sheng rapidly heading south, seemingly toward Jiangdong.”
“‘Five Directions Emperor Saber’ Qing Yu entered Maoling on the nineteenth of August, practicing in Huangting Monastery.”
“‘Buddha Palm’ Xuan Zhen has descended from Shaolin again, sailing southeast.”
“‘Heartbreaking Across the Horizon’ Ruan Bugu set sail on the sea on the twenty-third of August, his song breaking hearts as fish floated lifeless in shallow waters.”
“‘Upright Sword’ Wang Zai once again challenged ‘Star Shifting Moon Moving’ Chu Yunyu, ranked within the top twenty of the Human Ranks, ending in a draw.”
…
Each record was simple and cold, yet it excited Meng Qi’s eyes. Behind each brief sentence lay a youth hero capable of shaking the world, a top twenty figure in the Human Ranks, and his future opponents.
The flame of battle burned fiercely in Meng Qi’s heart. Looking out the window, sunlight reflected on the water, golden and dazzling.
“Wandering the martial world, it should be like this!” Meng Qi closed the Gazette, snapped his fingers, and ignited the paper with a flick of his true energy.
The flames slowly burned, soon turning the Gazette in Meng Qi’s hand to ashes. Just as the flames were about to reach his hand, he threw it just in time, transforming it into black butterflies that scattered onto the river surface.
Golden ripples danced on the water. In the distance, a grand city loomed majestically, Maoling was about to arrive.
Meng Qi took a deep breath, filled with anticipation. He stepped onto the deck, this time carrying both saber and sword, dressed in black, planning to appear as “Wild Saber” Su Meng, boldly stepping into the surging undercurrents of Maoling.
As the ship approached the dock, a tall multi-decked vessel sailed upstream from downstream, also heading toward Maoling Dock.
On the deck of the large ship, a white-robed young nobleman sat behind a go board, fully concentrating on an unfinished game, seemingly contemplating a solution.
His features were delicate, almost feminine, his face pale, and his figure thin. A gust of river breeze blew his clothes, making him appear frail and as if he might be blown away.
Cough, cough! Suddenly, the white-robed nobleman violently coughed, covering his mouth with his right hand while a maid beside him anxiously patted his back, trying to soothe him.
After the coughing stopped, the nobleman lowered his hand from his mouth. With Meng Qi’s sharp vision, he could clearly see the smear of red on the nobleman’s palm.
As their gazes met, it seemed as if a qi connection had been established. The white-robed nobleman raised his head, his gaze meeting Meng Qi’s.
Meng Qi politely nodded, and the white-robed nobleman calmly smiled in response.
The tall multi-decked vessel turned, sailing into the dock, blocking Meng Qi’s passenger ship from behind and obstructing their view of each other.
Meng Qi was about to sigh at the nobleman’s illness, seemingly deeply rooted and chronic, requiring only gradual recovery without miraculous pills or potions, when suddenly he sensed something was wrong just now!
Although the distance was far, preventing Meng Qi from sensing the enemy with his spirit or detecting with true energy, under the qi connection just now, his intuition had sensed something subtle. Except for the coughing moment, every movement of the white-robed nobleman harmonized perfectly with heaven and earth, appearing ordinary and indistinguishable from a normal person, yet absolutely extraordinary.
“Always in harmony with heaven and earth?” Meng Qi slightly frowned, thinking. This was the realm where one could open the life-and-death passageway at any moment!
After a moment of shock, he suddenly smiled. It should be like this; this was the true Jiangdong style!
Talents everywhere, freaks on every street!
“This is exactly what makes Jiangdong’s reputation. So many extraordinary people, how can I not sharpen my skills and indulge in swordsmanship! Good, good, good!” Meng Qi silently exclaimed three times, “Good!” The thought of fighting so many extraordinary people filled him with anticipation, even if he might lose, it would still be a gain!
But who doesn’t want to win?
The passenger ship turned and slowly sailed into the dock. In the distance, the water gate of Maoling stood like an iron general guarding the city, waiting for heroes to challenge it.
“Is it ‘Calculating All Beings’?”
“Has he also come to Maoling?”
Meng Qi murmured to himself. With the Six Gates’ intelligence support, he was no longer the blind man he was before.
…
The sunset slanted, bathing the thatched cottage in a fiery glow.
A young man in his twenties, dressed as a farmer, was peacefully splitting firewood, boiling water, and cooking, showing no sign of impatience, as if he were savoring every moment.
His face was ordinary, his skin dark, with only his thick eyebrows standing out. He seemed no different from other farmers, but in his every movement, there was a subtle charm, the natural elegance of tranquility leading to a distant horizon.
Suddenly, with a swoosh, a dart flew into the house, embedding itself in a beam, two rooms away from where the “young farmer” was cooking.
The man smiled, shaking his head without showing anger, and slowly walked to the beam, pulled out the dart, took the note, and unfolded it.
“Maoling…”
He half-muttered, half-sighed.
…
Inside a tavern, a young nobleman was drinking himself into a stupor.
His face was only passably handsome, but even in his drunkenness, he exuded an elegant and refined aura. His unrestrained manner only enhanced this impression, complemented by the slight world-weariness brought by his prematurely white hair, making him seem like a fallen immortal.
Gurgle, he gulped down another mouthful of wine, and as he was about to pour another, he felt a slip of paper.
“What is this?” He mumbled drunkenly as he opened it.
“Maoling…” he muttered, then burst into laughter. “How could it compare to fine wine?”
He slapped the table, singing loudly:
“Since ancient times, sages have been lonely; only drinkers leave their names behind.”
…
At the seashore, the tide was rising, wave after wave rolling toward the embankment, occasionally crashing in towering waves.
On the embankment sat a young man dressed in black, his long saber resting across his knees, eyes closed in calm meditation, seemingly oblivious to the approaching towering waves and surging tides.
His face was square, his features merely decent, yet exuding a sense of firmness and valor.
As a towering wave approached, several feet high, powerful enough to seem like it would shatter the embankment,
The young man suddenly opened his eyes, the gaze as sharp as tangible beams. His long saber was swung out simultaneously.
The saber force surged, the saber intent surged, the saber energy surged, seemingly transforming into another towering wave. A little of the seawater on the shore surged up with it.
Heaven and man resonated!
Bang!
The two “waves” collided, the crashing sound deafening, as if a tsunami had erupted.
The long saber flew back, the wave shattered, turning into splashes of foam, scattering white droplets.
The young man sheathed his saber, turned, and walked away from the embankment toward his landlord.
“You have a letter,” the landlord said, having witnessed the scene and his face pale with fear.
The young man tore open the letter, his eyes slightly narrowing:
“Maoling…”
…
Inside a ruined temple, a tall, thin man with a powerful build released his right hand, letting the corpse fall to the ground.
“This is a Jianghu Ranks expert from the Central Plains…” he muttered in a strange language, his expression cold and his eyes emotionless, like a ruthless beast.
He bent down and retrieved a parchment-like object from the corpse’s chest pocket. Struggling with the language, he read aloud in the official tongue of the Jin Dynasty:
“…Maoling…”
…
On the tall multi-decked vessel, the white-robed nobleman stopped coughing, took out a slip of paper, glanced at it, and murmured with a half-smile: “Maoling…”
He gestured for the maid to bring paper and brush, and wrote: “‘Wild Saber’ Su Meng comes from the west. Judging by his qi, he lives up to his reputation, with a hint of imperial aura entwined. He may become a hound for the Zhao clan or have joined the Six Gates.”
He tore off these two lines, rolled them into a chess piece.
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