bookbashuk Chapter 112 The Snipe and the Clam Fight?
Chapter 112 The Snipe and the Clam Fight?
Chapter 112 The Snipe and the Clam Fight?
Meanwhile, in Hengyang City, at Bailianfang.
Feng Changrong tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.
Senior Brother Shen has been in Xiangtan for a day now. Although with his martial arts skills and intelligence, there is no possibility that anything bad will happen to him, his heart is still hanging in mid-air and cannot settle down.
The face of his senior brother, Stendhal, haunted his mind like a nightmare.
Why have my fellow disciples ended up in such a state?
Just as he was in a state of confusion, a series of hurried, almost frantic footsteps suddenly came from outside the courtyard, mixed with the gatekeeper's hushed exclamation.
"Senior Brother Feng! Senior Brother Feng! There's an urgent secret message on the mountain!"
Feng Changrong's heart skipped a beat. He rushed out of the room and saw a dusty messenger from Songshan being led by a waiter. The messenger's face was covered in sweat and he looked anxious, obviously having been riding at full speed without stopping for a moment.
"What's the matter that you're so panicked?" Feng Changrong grabbed his arm and asked in a deep voice.
Upon seeing him, the messenger was overjoyed, as if he had seen a savior. He hurriedly pulled out a sealed letter, double-sealed with sealing wax, and presented it with both hands, panting, "Senior Brother Feng, an urgent letter from Senior Brother Shi! It says—it says that demonic cult members have infiltrated the Huguang region, their target Xiangtan! Senior Brother Shen—you must hold Hengyang firmly and absolutely must not go to Xiangtan. Under no circumstances should you act rashly, lest you fall into the demonic cult's trap and ruin the sect's affairs!"
"What?!"
Feng Changrong felt a loud "buzz" in his head, as if a thunderbolt had struck on a clear day.
He snatched the letter, his fingertips turning slightly white from the force, and tore open the seal with trembling hands.
Finished!
I believed, but it was too late!
Senior Brother Shen—he's in Xiangtan right now! He's probably in the den of dragons and tigers set up by that evil cultist!
He opened his mouth, wanting to shout, but it felt as if something was tightly blocking his throat, and he couldn't make a sound.
In Xiangtan, the river wind carries a biting chill, stirring up dust and sand from the ground.
"Zu Qianqiu?" Shen An was also curious. How come it was still just the old man?
"Oh, Young Master Shen, you don't know," the old man scratched what was either his neck or the back of his head, explaining, "People in the martial world call him the Yellow River Ancestor, but actually it's just the two of us. My surname is Lao, and my given name is Touzi. The other one's surname is Zu, and his given name is Qianqiu. Alas, it's all that Old Ancestor's fault. He can't resist the smell of wine. We agreed to meet here, but I don't know which wine cellar he's wandered off to and caused trouble."
Although he complained in his words, he didn't seem to care.
Shen An nodded, then changed the subject: "How did you two know that this batch of medicinal herbs would arrive in Xiangtan tonight?"
He himself was unaware of this matter because he was in Hengyang, and he really couldn't understand how the Yellow River Ancestor and these small gangs knew about it.
Upon hearing this, the old man chuckled, quite frankly, and made no attempt to hide anything: "It was quite a coincidence. My brother and I captured a suspicious messenger from the Songshan Sect on the road, and found a secret letter on him, which revealed that a batch of rare treasures was to be transshipped through your dock. My brother and I thought, rather than letting you prestigious sects make money off them, it would be better to save my daughter's life—"
Who knew that he would run headfirst into Shen An, a tough nut to crack.
It turned out that the messenger had been captured, and the news had been leaked.
Hmph, it really was that senior brother's doing. He must have been closely monitoring the situation in Xiangtan, but he did a bit sloppy with this.
Shen An suddenly realized what was going on and stopped asking questions. He also became somewhat curious about Zu Qianqiu and said, "Let's go find your partner."
"Huh?" The old man was taken aback, not expecting Shen An to let the matter go so easily.
"I'd also like to see what kind of fine wine could make a martial arts master forget even his important business."
The old man's face immediately lit up with joy. He quickly picked up the large bag of medicinal herbs and followed Shen An with a bouncy gait.
The old man led Shen An along the route that Zu Qianqiu might be heading. As longtime partners, they soon found traces of him.
Two people were fighting in the middle of the arena.
A burly man wielded a heavy sword wider and thicker than usual, his swordsmanship expansive and powerful. However, his clothes were disheveled, he was panting heavily, and veins bulged on his forehead, clearly at his limit.
His opponent, however, was a down-on-his-luck scholar who was dressed in rags, thin, and had a large belly.
The scholar carried a large gourd of wine in his hand. His figure was unpredictable, and his steps seemed unsteady and erratic, as if he might fall drunk at any moment. Yet, he always managed to dodge the powerful sword strikes with the slightest difference in distance.
Instead of fighting back, he would occasionally tilt his head back and gulp down a mouthful of wine, shaking his head and making comments about something. It was more like he was flirting than fighting an enemy.
Shen An's gaze was fixed on the face of the burly man wielding the sword, and his pupils suddenly contracted.
That face flushed red with anger, frustration, and exhaustion; that familiar Songshan disciple's attire; and that iconic Songshan-style sword—
It can't be wrong!
It was none other than his senior brother—"Thousand-Foot Pine" Stendhal!
How could he be fighting Zu Qianqiu here?!
Shouldn't he have stayed hidden in the shadows, waiting for the snipe and the clam to fight, and then reaped the benefits?
Just as Shen An was filled with doubt and uncertainty, the battle in the arena was nearing its end.
The down-on-his-luck scholar known as "Zu Qianqiu" seemed to have grown tired of the game, or perhaps he had finally had his fill of his opponent's "swordplay." He let out a loud burp, shook his head, and said with a look of disgust, "No, no. Your swordsmanship has a fierce edge but no aftertaste, it's powerful but lacks depth. It's like a half-aged strong liquor—it's strong on the palate but scratches the throat. Uninteresting, truly uninteresting."
Before he finished speaking, he swayed, ignoring Stendhal's desperate sweeping attack, and suddenly closed in. Stendhal was shocked and hastily drew his sword to defend himself, but missed completely.
Zu Qianqiu extended two withered fingers and gently flicked the thick spine of the sword.
"Ding-a-ling—"
With a clear and long ringing sound, Stendhal felt a strange and unparalleled shock coming from the sword, as if an invisible hammer had struck his wrist bone hard. His hand was in excruciating pain and he could no longer hold on. The sword flew out of his hand and stuck diagonally into the mud in the distance.
"Hey, I suppose the old man's situation is settled, so I won't keep you company any longer." Zu Qianqiu clapped his hands, took another big gulp of wine, turned around and was about to leave, extremely dashing. "Blocking you, this disciple of Songshan, has been a great help to him. I should ask him for a few jars of old wine."
"You demonic cultist, don't run!"
A fleeting hesitation crossed Stendhal's eyes, but his resolve remained unwavering.
Despite losing his weapon, he showed no fear. He roared, his eyes bloodshot, and disregarding his nearly exhausted inner strength, he used the Songshan Palm Technique to strike Zu Qianqiu hard in the back.