Chapter 63: A True Powerhouse

After getting out of the carriage, Zheng Fan felt that his earlier battle of wits with thin air had been fucking hilarious.

Especially since he and Xu Wenzu had each assumed the slovenly man belonged to the other side. One had acted friendly, the other cautious, only for the fellow to turn out to be some random passerby freeloading food and drink.

But immediately afterward, at Zheng Fan’s order, the five Centurions, Wang Duan included, led their men out and began searching the entire camp for the slovenly man.

The search lasted two hours, yet produced nothing. The man seemed to have come merely to mooch half a roast chicken before evaporating inside the camp.

Zheng Fan did not like variables escaping his control.

Because now he could no longer determine whether he would be able to make a move against Xu Wenzu.

Carrying a faint unease, Zheng Fan returned to his tent.

The moment he lifted the flap, he froze.

The slovenly man was sitting beside his bed, chopsticks in hand, eating from a small hotpot.

The hotpot was something Siniang had prepared for him. Chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, and the other spices that formed the soul of hotpot were not difficult to obtain here. Tiger Head City had plenty of Western Regions merchants, so such ingredients were neither scarce nor expensive.

In ancient times, being able to eat a small spicy hotpot was absolute bliss.

Yet right now, someone else had beaten him to it.

Zheng Fan’s gaze swept through the tent.

He saw Siniang standing in one corner, her expression guarded.

Whew.

He secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

The hotpot if someone ate it, then so be it.

As long as Siniang was fine.

But judging by Siniang’s wary posture, Zheng Fan had not misjudged the man.

This slovenly fellow was absolutely no ordinary character.

After all, Siniang was one of the Seven Demon Kings.

She had eaten more salt than Zheng Fan had eaten rice.

Zheng Fan trusted her judgment.

Even if someone were somewhat stronger than her, Siniang could remain perfectly composed and even laugh and chat with them.

She would never be reduced to her current state.

Wonderful.

They had searched the camp for so long, yet this man had been sitting inside Zheng Fan’s tent eating hotpot the entire time.

More importantly, Siniang had simply watched him eat without interfering.

Zheng Fan began weighing his options.

If he dropped the tent flap now, turned around, and ran—glowing all the way—could he reach a safe distance?

At the very least, could he make it to the center of the convoy and have Wang Duan and the others bring their men over to serve as sacrificial shields?

Zheng Fan looked toward Siniang.

Siniang shook her head slightly.

Hiss...

Did that mean he would not even have time to run?

Zheng Fan still trusted Siniang’s judgment.

If the slovenly man wanted to kill him, at this distance Zheng Fan would have no chance of escaping.

Which meant only two choices remained.

One:

“Hahahaha, wrong tent, brother. Carry on eating and drinking.”

The other:

If you can’t beat him, join him.

Eat together!

Zheng Fan lowered the flap and walked in openly, sitting down opposite the slovenly man.

The man glanced up at Zheng Fan, then continued using his chopsticks to fish an egg dumpling from the hotpot and put it into his mouth.

It was scorching hot.

He sucked air through his lips as he ate, tilting his neck back and working at it for a long while before finally swallowing.

Zheng Fan shook his head.

“This isn’t right. How can you eat hotpot without dipping sauce?”

Then he waved to Siniang.

“Siniang, bring the dipping bowls over. Eating hotpot without dipping sauce is practically blasphemy against hotpot.”

Hearing this, the slovenly man suddenly smiled.

He seemed to have completely seen through Zheng Fan’s routine.

But Zheng Fan genuinely did not care.

Because he had plenty of routines.

From Guo Jing and Huang Rong to Zhang Wuji and Xiao Yan; from the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms to turning battle qi into a horse—

Zheng Fan had an absurd number of stories and formulas stored in his head about idiot protagonists somehow winning the favor of great experts.

Life itself was nothing more than an endless struggle between routines and counter-routines.

Either tonight Zheng Fan would obtain his first fortuitous encounter in this world, or next year the Blind Man and the others could come here to pull weeds from his grave.

Seeing that Zheng Fan had steadied himself, Siniang naturally stopped showing weakness.

She immediately brought over dipping bowls and seasonings.

“Here. Watch.”

Zheng Fan first spooned minced garlic into the bowl, then added a large amount of chopped scallions and cilantro, sprinkled in sesame seeds, and finally took the ladle from the hotpot and poured broth into the dipping bowl.

There.

Done!

Sesame and garlic had only recently spread into the East and were not yet cultivated on a large scale.

But thanks to Tiger Head City’s geographical position, obtaining them was not difficult.

The only regret was that Tiger Head City lay too far inland in the north.

Getting oysters to make oyster sauce was not exactly realistic.

Zheng Fan handed the dipping bowl to the slovenly man.

The man accepted it without ceremony, just as he had accepted Xu Wenzu’s roast chicken earlier.

“Dip it first,” Zheng Fan reminded him.

The man picked up a meatball, rolled it through the sauce, and put it into his mouth.

“Well? Good, right?”

The slovenly man nodded.

Then he began picking up food and dipping it even faster.

“There’s also sesame paste, actually, but I’m not used to it, so I didn’t prepare any.

“Right. Siniang, bring out the grape wine A’Ming brewed.”

Drinking was forbidden in the army.

But at a time like this, who gave a damn about discipline?

Siniang brought the grape wine over, personally poured two cups, then retreated several steps.

“Come on. One?”

Zheng Fan passed a cup to the slovenly man.

The man accepted it.

He seemed to hesitate briefly, but still clinked cups with Zheng Fan.

The scene looked almost warm.

Only the people involved knew how fucking terrified Zheng Fan was inside.

At last, the hotpot was finished.

Every last ingredient meant for boiling had disappeared.

That had been Zheng Fan’s supply for two days on the road.

This bastard had eaten it all in one sitting.

And he still seemed unsatisfied.

He even lifted the pot and drank the remaining broth.

After finishing, the slovenly man contentedly rubbed his belly with one hand while the other began... picking at his feet.

“Siniang, bring my daifuku.”

“All right.”

Siniang brought over the pastries.

Zheng Fan gestured toward them.

“Dessert after the meal.”

The slovenly man used the same hand that had been picking his feet to pick up a daifuku and place it in his mouth.

He seemed very pleased with its soft, glutinous texture.

In moments, he had swept the entire plate clean.

“Brother, it’s a pity we’re on the road and didn’t prepare much.

“Otherwise, once I finish this job, why don’t you come home with me?

“I guarantee good food and drink every day.

“An entire year without repeating a single dish.”

Anyone else who encountered an unfathomably powerful figure like this would have desperately wanted to stay far away.

Zheng Fan did the opposite.

He directly invited the man home.

How many scripts had protagonists built their fortunes exactly this way?

“Heh heh heh... hehehe...”

The slovenly man placed his finger beneath his nose, gave it a deep sniff, and laughed.

“Hahahaha...”

Zheng Fan had no idea what he was laughing about.

But he laughed along anyway.

“You’ll agree to anything?” the slovenly man asked.

“As long as I have it,” Zheng Fan answered crisply.

The slovenly man extended a hand and pointed toward Siniang, who stood nearby disguised as a man.

“She is very good.”

Siniang’s disguise could fool ordinary people.

It obviously could not fool his eyes.

Hearing this, Zheng Fan smiled.

“Then draw your blade.”

There was nothing to discuss.

He had already killed himself once.

His first goal after arriving in this world was to stir up trouble.

If he still had to sacrifice his own woman and swallow humiliation just to survive, what was the fucking point?

On this matter, Zheng Fan saw things very clearly.

Siniang walked forward.

She spread both hands.

Threads began extending one after another.

The slovenly man did not react at all.

He merely said calmly, “She is very good.”

“I know.”

Then the slovenly man pointed toward Zheng Fan.

“He is also very good.”

Clearly, he was not referring to Zheng Fan himself.

Zheng Fan understood immediately.

The man meant the Demon Child!

He could even perceive the Demon Child’s existence!

The next instant, an icy sensation swept through Zheng Fan’s entire body.

Violence.

Curses.

Calamity.

All manner of negative auras began pouring outward.

The slovenly man placed one hand on the small table.

Then softly said, “Barbarian God above.”

BOOM!

Zheng Fan felt his ears erupt in a deafening roar.

The next moment, every thread in Siniang’s hands snapped.

The negative aura that had just surged from Zheng Fan’s body was forcibly crushed back inside him in an instant!

Zheng Fan’s eyes widened as he stared at the slovenly man.

Fuck.

He’s a barbarian!

And this barbarian is terrifyingly strong!

What Grade was he?

Eighth Grade?

No. Eighth Grade could not possibly be this powerful.

Seventh Grade?

Sixth Grade?

Or perhaps... even higher?

“Your food is delicious.”

The slovenly man waved a hand.

The terrifying pressure instantly vanished.

Siniang dropped to one knee, gasping heavily, her chest rising and falling.

“I also understand what you’re thinking.”

The slovenly man leaned back slightly and said with some regret, “Unfortunately, if this were years ago, I really would have been willing to go home with you.

“Perhaps I might genuinely have given you what you wanted.”

“Can’t you now?”

Zheng Fan asked.

The slovenly man shook his head.

“I don’t have much time left.”

“I have a doctor at home. He can treat illnesses,” Zheng Fan immediately said.

“I’m not ill.”

A trace of amusement appeared in the slovenly man’s eyes.

He pointed at Zheng Fan again.

“The two of them are both very good.

“You were originally quite good too.

“But compared with those two... you’re rather unpresentable.”

“...” Zheng Fan.

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear!

“It’s a pity you aren’t a barbarian.

“Otherwise, I could recommend you to the Shrine.”

Zheng Fan immediately straightened his expression.

“Yes. I’ve always regretted that too.

“In the past, I thought barbarians were terrifying and savage.

“But only after actually meeting them did I discover how lovable they are.

“They’re talented singers and dancers.

“They’re warm and hospitable—”

The slovenly man raised a hand toward Zheng Fan.

Zheng Fan blinked.

“What?”

“Don’t stop.

“Keep making shit up.”

“...” Zheng Fan.

“On this journey, I’ll trouble you to cook.

“In return, I won’t kill you.”

What an incredibly generous reward.

Perhaps even the slovenly man himself felt that was a little too shameless, because he added another condition.

“I can also help you kill that fat man in the carriage before I die.”

“No, no, no. He’s an elder of mine. You’ve misunderstood.”

“But inside the carriage, I sensed your killing intent toward him.”

“Uh...”

“I’m full.

“I want to rest.

“Arrange a tent for me.”

“Of course. No problem.

“But, Senior, could you tell this junior your name?

“If it’s inconvenient, pretend I never asked.

“I simply feel that after witnessing Senior’s magnificence tonight, if I couldn’t even learn Senior’s name, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

“You Central Plains people have a saying:

“A true man does not change his name whether standing or sitting.

“My name is Que Shi.

“Shatuo Que Shi.”

HISSSSSSS!

FUCK!

“And you, young man?

“What is your name?”

Zheng Fan drew a deep breath.

He cupped his hands solemnly.

“My name is Fan Li.”

(End of Chapter)