Chapter 146: The Dwarf and the Feudal Prince

"Heh heh."

As though trying to dispel the awkwardness, Prince Fu chuckled and said, "Can we do that again?"

Xue San narrowed his eyes at Prince Fu.

"I've noticed you people of Qian seem to love acting."

Prince Fu nodded.

"The people best at acting in this world aren't in theater troupes. They're in the imperial court."

"That's pretty profound. Almost half as good as my Master."

"Your Master—no. The commander leading you this time. Who is he?"

"Zheng Fan."

Prince Fu frowned slightly.

"You've heard of him?"

"I have."

"That's good. Means my Master is fairly famous in Qian."

"He actually came to attack Mianzhou City again?"

"Sigh. The people of Mianzhou are warm and hospitable. Naturally we have to come home and visit often."

Even when grinding materials and equipment in an online game, people tended to return habitually to familiar monster zones.

"But this time, you may not be able to get inside."

"Doesn't matter."

Xue San shook his head, utterly unconcerned.

"You're worth much more than one city."

At the beginning of a war, killing or capturing an enemy Prince was an enormous military achievement.

That merit alone should be enough to get his Master promoted to Assistant General, shouldn't it?

Besides, this damned Mianzhou City would probably be just like last time. Even if they broke in, there was no way they could hold it. It was useful for farming military merit and prestige, but they could not actually gain territory from it.

Compared with that, the title of "Prince" was much more valuable.

"I admit you have some ability. But are you really so certain you can defeat this Prince?"

"Stop pretending. Your grandpa may be short, but I've probably eaten more rice than you've eaten salt."

"............" Prince Fu.

"You have too many openings, Your Highness."

At Xue San's assessment, Prince Fu leaned back slightly.

"I'm curious. You clearly know martial arts, yet you're crouching here hiding. Why aren't you up on the wall helping defend the city?"

"This Prince is a Prince."

"True. You're precious. But I don't believe you'd still be hiding your strength at a time like this. Once the city falls, no matter how good your martial arts are, unless you're some peerless master hidden from the world, you're still going to die."

When iron cavalry charged and crowds swarmed, even experts had to go down.

Earlier, when the Demon Kings faced the Wolf Native Troops that suddenly burst out at the gate, they too had fallen into terrible danger. If Liang Cheng had not ordered the withdrawal in time, they might truly have died inside the gate.

Dead before the campaign had even truly begun, kicking the bucket before reaching the peak of life.

Suddenly, Xue San laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" Prince Fu asked.

"I'm thinking this world is really interesting. Anyone can die. When there are enough ants, they really can bite an elephant to death."

What Xue San did not know was that he, inside the city, and Liang Cheng, outside it, had just voiced essentially the exact same thought.

"This Prince doesn't understand."

"Then forget it."

"Didn't you say we were going to chat?"

"Oh. Right."

Xue San thought for a moment.

"Let's put it this way. You're a Prince, so you should know plenty of secrets. Tell me—how strong is a Second-Grade expert in this world?"

"A Second-Grade expert?"

"Yes."

"This Prince has never seen one."

"What about heard of one?"

"Never heard of one either."

"Hm? So Third Grade is the peak?"

"Third Grade is a major realm. There are profound mysteries within it."

"So two people who are both Third Grade could still have a huge gap in strength?"

"Probably."

"You really haven't heard of any Second Grade?"

"No."

"Then how can there be Third Grade?"

Without One and Two, where the hell did Three come from?

"They should exist, but that must be something extremely distant. At least over the last hundred years, there have only been private suspicions that certain existences might be approaching Second Grade. Whether they actually are, no one knows."

"In short, they're extremely rare, right?"

"No one even knows whether any exist in this age."

"Don't you think that's interesting too?"

"What this Prince doesn't understand is what you mean by 'interesting.'"

"What I mean is that the kind of interesting I'm talking about makes our lives and our struggles more interesting, allowing ordinary people to participate in these interesting things. Do you understand what I mean now?"

"You're doing that deliberately."

"Heh heh."

"This Prince cannot see through you."

"Because I'm long."

"Just now, when you killed Wen Le, there was no flare of qi and blood around you. But you should still be a Martial Artist."

"I've always thought Martial Artists lighting up is idiotic. It makes life far too difficult for assassins in this world."

In Xue San's view, assassination ought to be an occupation overflowing with artistry.

Elegant.

Cultured.

Quiet.

But assassins were generally built on a Martial Artist foundation, and if you had to flash like a firefly when making your kill... that was nothing less than a desecration of artistic beauty!

"This Prince still doesn't understand. You're an assassin?"

"Mm. An assassin who doesn't glow."

"Oh."

"What are you 'oh'-ing for?"

"Nothing."

"Didn't we agree to chat?"

"Oh. This Prince was estimating your strength."

"And you just honestly told me that?"

"There are only the two of us. Whether the city falls or not, you and I will have to fight eventually, won't we?"

"True."

"Can this Prince buy you off?"

"That's a stupid question."

"There is no one in this world who cannot be bought."

"But you're only a feudal Prince. Other than money, what can you use to buy me?"

Strictly speaking, it was true that no one in the world was beyond being bought.

You could use righteousness.

You could use integrity.

You could use belief.

Things divorced from money and material benefit could still be used to entice someone or make them compromise.

That too was a kind of purchase.

But Prince Fu was only a feudal Prince.

Aside from money, what did he have?

Princes like him had no troops and no real authority. Perhaps they retained a little face, but attaching yourself to that face would only make your own reputation stink.

Prince Fu smiled with faint embarrassment, restrained and almost shy.

"What does that smile mean? Don't tell me you don't even have money."

Prince Fu rubbed his hands together.

"This Prince is actually rather poor."

Silence lasted for roughly a minute.

Then Xue San said, "You... take drugs?"

A bitter smile tugged at Prince Fu's lips.

"Can 'take drugs' be understood as taking medicine?"

Xue San nodded.

"You're very intelligent. Intelligent enough that this Prince finds it somewhat frightening. I have always considered myself a clever man, but before you, sir, I concede defeat."

"Oh, that's only because you haven't met someone even smarter. He's blind. If he were here, he probably wouldn't even need to think before saying you were taking drugs."

"Is that so? This Prince has always enjoyed dealing with intelligent people."

As he spoke, Prince Fu lowered his head and glanced at Wen Le, already lying lifeless on the ground.

He shook his head.

"He wasn't intelligent."

Clearly, Prince Fu had known Wen Le's identity long ago.

But the Silver-Armored Guard was a secret-service organization directly under the Emperor. If the Silver-Armored Guard planted someone beside you, then even if you discovered it, you had to pretend you had not.

That Military Commissioner had been the same. He had clearly known his wife belonged to the Silver-Armored Guard, yet he still had to enthusiastically hand over what little "public grain" he had left in storage.

"That idiot was just a complete moron. He probably thought you were one too, so he barely bothered hiding anything. Every detail of the way he moved might as well have been screaming that he knew martial arts."

Xue San had actually been observing from the side for quite a long time.

He had seen through Wen Le's background early on.

"Heh heh."

"You're not much better. Your panic earlier wasn't entirely fake."

"You just told this Prince that you had only been bluffing me."

"I don't like doing meaningless things. When I first came in, certain reactions in your muscles betrayed you. I'm particularly sensitive to that sort of thing."

"You have very discerning eyes, sir."

"Don't flatter me. Back to where we started. You may look fat, Your Highness, but your martial arts should be quite good. That slap against the ground, that shockwave—tch, tch. An Eighth-Grade Martial Artist couldn't produce that, could they?"

Because Prince Fu had not circulated his qi and blood.

He had not glowed.

As for why Xue San used Eighth Grade as the comparison, that was simple.

The Master was Eighth Grade.

So everyone had already thoroughly figured out exactly what an Eighth-Grade Martial Artist was capable of.

When you lived together with the Demon Kings, ate together, basked in the sun together—what secrets could you possibly keep?

"This Prince's identity is somewhat special. This Prince... must keep a low profile."

"No. I already mentioned that problem earlier. Once the city falls, you could lose your life. Unless you're confident you can come and go freely while surrounded by iron cavalry, there is no reason for you to keep hiding your strength now.

"Afraid of suspicion from the imperial court? Doesn't apply. At least not at a time like this."

Prince Fu narrowed his eyes. They were already little more than slits because of his fat, and now they became almost impossible to see.

"Then what do you think the reason is, sir?"

"You're afraid."

"Afraid? There are indeed many things this Prince fears."

As a feudal Prince, one had to remain wary of the imperial court's gaze.

Whether it came from civil officials or from the legitimate ruler on the Dragon Throne, feudal Princes were instinctively viewed with suspicion and scrutiny.

To the civil officials, the imperial clan and its Princes were parasites gnawing at the state, as well as potential sources of instability.

To the legitimate ruler on the Dragon Throne, feudal Princes might look like relatives, but the relationship between them was in truth an exceptionally delicate form of "you die or I die."

"No. What you're afraid of is actually much simpler than that. Don't spread your thoughts outward. Don't deliberately lead me in circles.

"What you're afraid of is very real.

"Put simply— you're just afraid."

Prince Fu patted his own belly.

"Explain."

"Stop pretending to be calm. I'll say it outright. You're very strong."

"Thank you."

"Can you tell me what Grade you actually are?"

"Sixth-Grade Martial Artist."

"Hiss..."

Xue San drew in a very exaggerated breath.

Prince Fu added, "I briefly reached Fifth Grade once. But for certain reasons, I fell back to Sixth."

"Mm."

A meaningful smile appeared on Xue San's face.

Prince Fu opened his palm.

A halo of purple light rose from it.

Under the purple glow, Prince Fu's face shifted between light and shadow.

But the surprise and fear on Xue San's face instantly vanished.

He shrugged.

"Look at that. You're being so cooperative. You're still afraid."

Prince Fu flipped his palm over and fell silent.

"When people are afraid, they often very easily lose some..."

Xue San tapped his own temple.

"Rationality."

"Rationality?"

"Yes. Rationality. Fear devours it, and you unconsciously start moving according to the influence of that fear.

"For example, I poked you a little just now. Put just a tiny bit more pressure on you. And after that, you followed my rhythm.

"That very clever blind friend of mine taught me this.

"People who play with psychology are all dirty."

"There were several words this Prince didn't understand, but I grasp the general meaning. Did this Prince fall into your trap?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you do all this?"

"Because I'm an assassin."

"Oh?"

"And I'm also watching to see whether my companions outside might have already broken into the city."

"Is that so?"

"Most importantly, I have the time, I have the conditions, and you're cooperating so well.

"Since I'm here, I might as well drain the water clean, right?"

"I understand that a little, and don't understand it a little."

"I've already appeared in front of you, Your Highness.

"Do you know what it feels like for an assassin to have to fight someone openly, face-to-face?

"I really hate it."

"This Prince can understand."

"So I need to confirm everything first. Then I'll feel confident."

"Have you confirmed it?"

"Yes. I have.

"Your Highness, you're very strong."

"You told this Prince that already."

"But you don't know how to fight."

"............" Prince Fu.

"Right? You don't know how to fight. Heh heh heh."

Shock first appeared on Prince Fu's face.

Then acceptance.

"Indeed."

A very strong man who did not know how to fight sounded contradictory.

Yet in reality, it was perfectly normal.

If fighting were nothing more than two people standing face-to-face, comparing levels, and automatically awarding victory to whoever had the higher level, then the world would be far too harmonious.

Why did sects frequently send disciples down the mountain to gain experience?

Because experts produced by shutting themselves away and training in isolation were often nowhere near as formidable as people imagined.

An expert who did not know how to fight was nothing more than an impressive-looking shell.

Of course, Prince Fu belonged to exactly that sort of shut-in training.

He was a feudal Prince.

A feudal Prince was supposed to obediently live like a pig.

Spend his days in drunken luxury.

Sleep with many, many beautiful women.

Father many, many children.

Spread the branches of the old Zhao Clan.

And every now and then, he should abduct a commoner's daughter, bully the people in his fief, and deliberately ruin his own reputation.

That was the life of a feudal Prince.

If instead you treated worthy men with courtesy, excelled in both civil and military arts, harbored great ambitions, or naively believed that because your surname was Zhao you ought to do something for the country and its people...

Sorry.

The Silver-Armored Guard's white silk might soon come down.

Or an imperial edict stripping your fief might arrive.

So Prince Fu could only close his doors and secretly practice martial arts.

Dreaming of roaming the world with a sword and gaining experience was basically impossible.

Even inside his own Prince's residence, he had to carefully conceal the fact that he knew martial arts at all.

And there was another layer of color to Prince Fu's situation.

Because he took drugs.

Xue San was skilled with poison.

People skilled with poison generally knew something of medicine as well.

Prince Fu's fat was very different from Xu Wenzu's fat.

Fatty Xu was honestly, solidly fat.

Prince Fu's fat, however, felt somewhat like "the moon reflected in water."

Xue San suspected Prince Fu had not become this fat merely because he wanted to comply with the imperial court's "guiding policy" of raising feudal Princes like pigs.

It was probably a side effect of the drugs.

Back when Xue San first discovered that his own recovery of strength was tied to the Master's Grade, he too had thought about using drugs to forcibly raise the Master's cultivation.

The Blind Man had discovered the plan in time and warned him off.

But here, right before his eyes, was a living example of someone who had taken that path.

And if even the wealth of a feudal Prince, accumulated over several generations, could be exhausted enough by those drugs that he complained of poverty, that was more than enough to show just how ruinous the cost truly was.

Those pills, those precious heavenly materials and earthly treasures none of them were cheap.

Some could scarcely be bought even if one had money.

An image involuntarily appeared in Xue San's mind: the Master becoming as fat as the Prince before him.

Hiss...

That image was too beautiful.

If the Master really became like that, the Fourth Lady probably would not even be able to find where to stick the needle.

"Anything else to chat about?" Xue San asked.

"This Prince is a little hungry."

"That one's off the table. No such service."

"Then there isn't much left to discuss."

"Mm."

Xue San silently reached out and gripped the two daggers he had earlier stabbed into the ground.

Then, Bang!

The instant the daggers came free, Xue San shot toward Prince Fu.

Prince Fu crossed both arms.

Powerful qi and blood roared outward.

But Xue San's figure abruptly halted.

His entire body sprang into the air.

"Heh."

Prince Fu sneered.

His obese body pivoted rapidly.

Both fists came out together, smashing toward the space behind him.

He had been waiting for Xue San's feint.

Waiting for Xue San to descend so he could blast the assassin with his overwhelming qi and blood.

The sheer depth of that power was frightening.

Yet there seemed to be a silver thread attached to the dagger in Xue San's left hand.

The other end of the thread was fixed to the ground where the dagger had previously been planted.

It was a maneuver prepared long beforehand!

The silver thread pulled Xue San sideways in midair.

His body twisted.

Then, like a swimming fish kicking through water, he changed direction and dropped vertically directly in front of Prince Fu.

Prince Fu was still punching behind himself.

Pfft!

Xue San's dagger plunged into Prince Fu's chest straight through the heart.

Without the slightest hesitation afterward, Xue San kicked off the ground and retreated several dozen feet.

One hand touched down.

He stabilized himself.

Prince Fu turned his head in stunned disbelief.

He stared at the dagger buried in his chest.

He looked shocked.

Yet somehow also as though this outcome made perfect sense.

He was very strong.

But just as Xue San had said he did not know how to fight.

That was why he had not gone to the city wall to help defend it.

Because he was afraid.

Poison began spreading into his body.

Prince Fu knew perfectly well that he was finished.

At that moment, a miserable, baffled smile appeared on his face.

He said, "Didn't you say... you could capture this Prince alive?"

Xue San straightened.

Then blew Prince Fu a kiss from afar.

In a gentle voice, he said, "Baby."

Prince Fu tilted his head slightly, waiting for the rest.

"You're too heavy.

"Can't carry you."

(End of Chapter)