Chapter 665: Praise the Ancestor

A’Ming was excited now. But beneath that excitement lay absolute calm.

"Fan Li."

"Mm."

"I thought I was playing on the second level. Turns out that Leopard Gate Inn was on the third. No, the fifth."

"You're making me hungry."

"Fan Li."

"Mm."

"I don't know what condition that thing is actually in right now. I don't know whether it's conscious, whether it's standing or lying down, or even how much of its strength it can still use. But do me a favor. Help me bring that thing back."

"Mm."

A’Ming reached out. Fan Li crouched down, allowing the noble Lord A’Ming to rest his supremely exalted palm on his right shoulder.

"Let's not say anything hypocritical about who owes whom a favor."

"Mm."

"Next time you need something, just say it. Unless you want me to chop Master's head off."

"Mm?"

Fan Li frowned, apparently dissatisfied with the condition attached. But as Demon Kings, they did in fact have an obligation to help the other Demon Kings find ways to break the deadlock.

Without a "one," no number of zeroes meant anything. And all this time, the Demon Kings had been waiting bitterly for that "one."

The Sword Maid spoke up.

"So the people at that inn aren't simple?"

"Right. We underestimated them. They didn't dare reveal themselves. They were only humoring us."

"And now we're going back?"

A’Ming nodded. "Yes. We're going back to find what I want."

"Could it be... dangerous?"

"Yes. Extremely dangerous."

"And we're still going?" the Sword Maid asked.

A’Ming said, "That is the jianghu. Once you're in the jianghu, you no longer control your own fate."

"..." The Sword Maid.

"We've already alerted them," A’Ming added. "Under these circumstances, I can't bear the cost of losing it. So even if it's dangerous, I have to go."

This was not a matter of whether the trade was worthwhile. Nor was it about risk management. It was simply this: I must have that thing. Once that premise was established, everything else became irrelevant.

"I think that when you're traveling the jianghu, it's still best to be cautious whenever possible. Our Marquis Residence... no, our gang has nearly a hundred thousand men, after all."

Earlier, the sort of jianghu experience the Sword Maid had wanted was to face those runaway Savage bandits. They might be troublesome, but the difficulty had felt just right.

Now, looking at A’Ming's expression, she did not know what a "high-ranking vampire" actually was, but she was certain it would be extremely dangerous, far beyond the usual scale of jianghu affairs.

A’Ming nodded.

"You're right."

The Sword Maid smiled. At last, she had been praised once today. Even the earlier slaps somehow hurt less. A’Ming untied a waist token from his belt and tossed it to her. The Sword Maid caught it.

"This is...?"

"Go to a nearby military fort, or find one of the Marquis Residence garrisons in the area. The Blind Man said this token should let you mobilize up to a thousand cavalry. You're in charge of calling in the troops."

"Me?"

A’Ming nodded.

"Your burden is heavy."

The Sword Maid found the whole thing absurd. Then A’Ming and Fan Li started walking back. At first they walked. Then A’Ming practically launched himself forward in a blur, while Fan Li broke into a full sprint. To the Sword Maid, they looked like two children who had just spotted a fascinating new toy. She lowered her head and looked again at the waist token A’Ming had tossed her, then glanced around. In the stories told by storytellers, it seemed you always had to wait until the condemned man was just about to be executed before someone shouted:

"Stay the blade!"

So the Sword Maid suddenly felt a tremendous sense of responsibility. In her mind, she could already see A’Ming and Fan Li gravely wounded and subdued, only for her to charge in at the head of a mass of cavalry and rescue them. She closed her eyes. Drew a deep breath. Then opened them again. Reluctantly cutting off the delightful scene in her imagination, the Sword Maid tightened her left hand around the waist token, gripped her sword in her right, and ran off in one direction.

...

Leopard Gate Inn. The corpses in the stable had already been disposed of, and the bloodstains washed away. The Blind Man had once joked that if the world ever truly became peaceful and life in the jianghu grew difficult, jianghu people could always go work at charitable mortuaries. It would be the perfect professional match. After all, when it came to destroying corpses and erasing evidence, they were professionals. A’Ming's face slowly emerged from the greenery covering the hillside opposite the inn. Beside him, Fan Li lay on his stomach weaving a grass hat. He worked quickly, put it on his own head, then poked A’Ming and gestured for him to admire the workmanship.

A’Ming was trying to observe the inn, yet he still had to spare part of his attention to humor this idiot. He could not even curse him. If Fan Li got annoyed and dusted off his backside and left, A’Ming himself would not be afraid. He would still dare charge into the place alone. The problem was that without Fan Li's help, his chances of succeeding would drop. That high-ranking vampire was hardly going to lie obediently on a bed without moving and wait for A’Ming to harvest him.

"Looks good. Very good," A’Ming said perfunctorily. Then he added, "Fan Li, I've thought of an excellent plan."

"Mm."

"You attack through the front. I'll circle around and sneak in through the back when I see an opening. Clever, isn't it?"

Fan Li's eyes widened as he stared at A’Ming.

A’Ming asked, "You think there's a problem?"

Fan Li said:

"No armor."

Whenever they charged formations or stormed strongholds in the past, Fan Li wore the iron armor Xue San had forged for him, turning himself into a true war beast with tremendous defensive power. On a battlefield, surrounded by his own troops, Fan Li made a large target, but unless he became completely encircled, he generally was not in much danger. Right now, however, he had no armor. If he charged straight through the front entrance, he would immediately be surrounded by jianghu experts. The close-range fighters would keep him tied up while hidden weapons and arrows went whoosh, whoosh, whoosh from the perimeter. Fan Li might look a little simple, but that did not mean he was stupid.

He was not Li Yuanba, who could be tricked into going outside during a thunderstorm and cursing Heaven.

"Then how about standing at the entrance and shouting a few times?" A’Ming suggested, before immediately shaking his head. "No. If you don't tie their people down, they might move the target immediately."

At that moment, cries of battle suddenly erupted from inside Leopard Gate Inn. A’Ming and Fan Li were instantly alert and peered toward the building. The fighting sounded fierce. There were screams mixed in as well. At one point, an entire section of a wooden door exploded outward, presumably from saber force or sword qi spilling beyond the combatants.

"Damn it. Someone's trying to beat me to it."

A’Ming licked his lips. Originally, he still had one extremely passive option: gamble that the people at this inn would not leave or move the target within a single day. He and Fan Li could simply watch the place and wait for the Sword Maid to bring troops. Once soldiers surrounded the inn, no matter how serious the situation became, it could still be crushed flat. Now it seemed they could not afford to wait. Earlier that night, A’Ming had already flashed a gold ingot stamped by the Marquis Residence. Even if this inn truly was a black inn, it should have behaved itself for the rest of the night instead of doing anything conspicuous.

After all, within eastern Jin, the deterrent power of the Marquis of Pingxi Residence was incomparable.

"Fan Li, here's what we'll do. Play it by ear. You don't necessarily have to tank everything yourself, but stir the water up even more. You still go in through the front. I'll take the back. We split up."

Fan Li nodded.

"All right. Split up."

Originally, they had planned to brute-force it. After a round of deep thought, meticulous planning, and an unexpected complication, in the end they were still going to brute-force it. Fan Li charged toward the front entrance. A’Ming began circling around the building. First, Fan Li's side. Fan Li ran all the way to the entrance of Leopard Gate Inn with both axes raised. The main doors were shut, but a section beside them had already been smashed open. Fan Li pressed one eye to the gap and peered inside. There was fighting in the hall. Obviously. The real issue was that a group of people were besieging one man.

Among that group were the hunchbacked waiter and the proprietress who liked licking her lips just like A’Ming. The lone man being surrounded was a saber wielder. It was the same man Fan Li and the others had seen eating alone in the common hall earlier that day. Fan Li sighed. Sure enough. He knew martial arts. What a pity. Fan Li had wanted to test him during the day, only for A’Ming to stop him. The saber wielder's martial arts were extremely strong. Even while surrounded by a group of attackers, he moved at ease. And every so often, he would suddenly strike to kill and cut another man down. The side being surrounded looked like the hunter.

The side doing the surrounding looked more like prey lining up to deliver themselves to him. Gradually, as casualties continued mounting, Fan Li saw signs that the inn's side was beginning to collapse. That would not do. He moved his eye away from the gap, raised his axes, and squeezed through another opening that had been smashed into the wall. Inside the inn, oil lamps hung from the ceiling. There were braziers and torches too, along with several small fires started by the fighting. The interior was brightly lit. Fan Li entered. Before either the inn's people or the saber wielder could react, Fan Li raised his axes and charged straight at the saber wielder.

Most of the time, Fan Li seemed as if he were missing a screw. In reality, he was often extremely sharp at identifying the heart of a situation. For example: if he did not join in, the inn's side was about to break. If they broke, there would be no game left to play. And if there was no game, how was A’Ming supposed to fish in troubled waters? Thus Fan Li, the number-one shock-assault brute under the Marquis of Pingxi Residence, defender-general of Fengxin City, and foremost warrior among the Demon Kings, entered the battle. Fan Li leaped into the air and brought one axe down in a mighty Mount Hua cleave! But because he was swinging both axes at once, Fan Li shouted:

"Double Bloom!"

The saber wielder raised his blade crosswise to block. Clang! Fan Li felt both arms go numb and staggered backward. Fortunately, he had not lost either axe. He twisted his wrists, intending to spin the axes once and shake out the numbness in his hands. He made a mistake. Both axes dropped to the floor.

"..." Fan Li.

The saber wielder had not been forced back, but even with his strength, taking both of Fan Li's axes head-on with a single saber left his chest feeling tight and heavy. This had nothing to do with cultivation grade. Nothing to do with martial skill. Nothing to do with experience. He had simply taken internal damage from colliding head-on with that monstrous strength. The proprietress, waiter, and the others were equally stunned by Fan Li's sudden appearance. What in the world was going on? Fan Li bent down, picked up his axes again, and charged forward once more. This time, the saber wielder was prepared.

Instead of meeting force with force, he swept out a line of saber force and forced Fan Li to pull back his weapon. Then man and saber pressed close together as he unleashed a rapid storm of cuts, the speed of his blade astonishing. At the end, the saber tip flicked upward and sliced toward Fan Li's wrist. Fan Li immediately released the axe and jerked his hand back. He knew perfectly well that if he tried to tough it out, that hand would be cut off. He did not have A’Ming's regenerative ability, so he surrendered immediately. At the same time, he hurled the axe in his other hand.

The saber wielder was forced to spend another strike knocking it aside, giving Fan Li just enough time to retreat and open distance. The saber wielder followed immediately, driving forward with a single pursuing slash. At that moment, however, the proprietress suddenly flicked out a string of silver needles. Ordinarily, using silver needles as hidden weapons was not especially effective. A sweep of saber force could easily knock them aside. But halfway through their flight, the needles suddenly burst into clouds of white powder. That was no longer something saber force could simply solve.

If handled badly, the poisonous powder might even spread faster because of the impact and blow straight back onto the user. So the saber wielder immediately withdrew his blade and retreated. At the same time, he released force from his palm, forming a wall of wind that slapped away both the powder and the remaining needles. Fan Li had lost both axes, but he had successfully withdrawn. Without hesitation, he bent down, grabbed a corpse from the floor by one leg, and stood upright with it in his hands. He had simply picked up something nearby for self-defense. The proprietress did not ask why Fan Li had come.

Even though she knew there was a very good chance Fan Li came from that terrifying Marquis Residence. The saber wielder did not ask who Fan Li was either. If anything, Fan Li's appearance made him suddenly more urgent. He was no longer leisurely playing cat-and-mouse as before. Instead, he began striking aggressively, looking to finish things quickly. None of the three sides spoke. Almost immediately, they plunged back into killing.

...

On the other side, A’Ming took advantage of the chaos in the main hall and entered the inn.

"First, it can't be the stable."

If the stable could be arranged for those Savage fugitives whose identities could not bear scrutiny, that proved the place held no real secrets.

"The second-floor guest rooms probably aren't it either."

The inn was poorly built. Looking at it, the builders had clearly cut corners.

"Then it should be on the first floor. The most dangerous place is the safest place. At the same time, it should be somewhere the inn's own people pay the least attention to while still using the most."

A’Ming entered the kitchen.

"A kitchen should have a cellar for storing things."

He lowered his head. Beneath the large kitchen table was an iron pull-ring. A’Ming crouched and grabbed it.

"If it smells like pickled vegetables or blood down there, then no. If it smells like something else, then yes."

He pulled open the cellar hatch. A rich floral fragrance immediately drifted upward. A’Ming did not look delighted. Instead, the corner of his mouth twitched. He muttered a curse to himself.

"Damn it. There's not even the slightest technical beauty to this."

To hide something so precious in such a slapdash fashion was practically blasphemy. It was like a group of heroes slaughtering one another over a map to the Manchu treasure, finally piecing together the complete map and discovering that the treasure vault was located inside the national treasury. A’Ming shook his head and descended into the cellar. Beneath the floral fragrance, he smelled blood. Captivating. Sweet. Then A’Ming saw the large vat. He picked up a ladle, scooped out a little blood, and tasted it.

"Mm..."

The flavor was not bad. He wiped the corner of his mouth and looked around. There was a bed. But nothing lay on it. Everything had followed such a perfectly obvious logic until the most important final step, where there was nothing. A’Ming found that difficult to accept. He could tolerate an ugly process. He could not tolerate an empty result. He walked to the bedside and placed a hand against the mattress. No warmth. But there was a trace of cold. Fortunately, it was summer. The cellar was fairly dry, but it certainly was not an ice cellar. Other people touched bedding for lingering warmth to prove someone had only just escaped. A’Ming did the reverse.

"Fresh blood. That part can't be wrong."

As he spoke, he slowly looked around again. The cellar was not large. Gradually, A’Ming raised his head and looked above him. An old man's face hung there. It had originally been descending soundlessly, little by little. When A’Ming raised his head, their faces were perhaps ten centimeters apart. A’Ming tilted his head slightly left. The old man tilted his head too. For a moment, they looked like two hunting dogs meeting for the first time, each suspiciously examining the other. A’Ming smiled. The smile seemed to provoke the old man. Two fangs slowly emerged from the corners of his mouth. A’Ming's smile became even brighter. Things were better than he had imagined. What a fresh blood bag.

What an intoxicating future. Power. The past. Glory. Even if he could never completely return to what he had once been, this might allow him, right now, to assume a higher-level state surpassing the other Demon Kings. In truth, the Demon Kings had spent all this time desperately researching methods to break free of Master's shackles. But that had only ever been for the sake of breaking free. Their fundamental goal was not to rebel against Master. And as Zheng Fan climbed higher and higher, changing more and more, he gradually began fitting the Demon Kings' own image of what a Demon King ought to be.

Besides, Zheng Fan still carried the title of their "godfather."

As long as he existed, everyone had a legitimate reason to remain gathered together. In short, as long as the condition remained where Master's death might cause all of them to drop dead with him, the Demon Kings could never openly rebel, or even leave the group and go live freely. It was not fear of death. For the Demon Kings, fear of death truly was not the primary factor. The unacceptable part was this: you might be off somewhere doing your own thing, then something suddenly happened to Master, and for no reason you simply dropped dead along with him. That feeling. That outcome. The Demon Kings could not accept it. The problem was that Master was useless.

His martial talent was decent enough, but the Demon Kings were creatures who never knew satisfaction. Their greed for recovered strength had no bottom. I want it. I want more. I still want more. If there was anyone to blame, it could only be Master for failing to possess talent on Tian Wujing's level. Of course, if Master actually were Tian Wujing, that might not be a particularly wonderful thing for the Demon Kings either. Countless thoughts flashed through A’Ming's mind. But the old man's surprise had already begun fading. A smile appeared on his face as well. He said:

"To think I would find such exquisite prey here... Praise the Ancestor."

A’Ming's smile became restrained. He replied:

"I accept your praise."

[End of Chapter 665]