Big Shot From Wuji Mountain

It was a gloomy day with a light drizzle. The weather had turned chilly, and frost was starting to form on the ground.

After a journey of nearly ten days, with a slight hiccup along the way, Qin Huai reached the outskirts of a small town, just twenty miles from the outer city.

In a dilapidated shack on the main road, he was enjoying a hot bowl of beef soup, dipping his pancakes into it. As he ate, he pondered about his return to Qingzhou City. He needed to uncover who the next leader of Wuji Mountain was and how he could relay this information to Xiang Mingfeng.

“Sir, you ordered three portions of pancakes,” said the waiter, placing a tower of pancakes on Qin Huai’s table. Besides Qin Huai, only one other table at the soup stall was occupied, a duo seated there.

They were dressed in coarse cotton clothing, adorned with over a dozen patches, yet they were surprisingly clean. Their hair was free from dirt or oil, even the soles of their shoes were mud-free. And their cotton robes were immaculately free of wrinkles and showed no signs of frequent washing.

Their chests bulged abnormally under their clothing. These two men appeared to be rough yet strong, emanating energy that was hard to miss.

Qin Huai realized that he had stumbled upon two bone pattern realm experts at the edge of a small wilderness town. There had to be a story behind this, but he had his own important matters to attend to and chose not to pry.

Noticing the two men glancing at him, he asked the waiter for a newspaper from Qingzhou City. “Sir, do you see where we are? Newspapers made from high-quality paper are an expensive luxury we don’t have here,” the waiter replied.

After finishing three large bowls of soup, and feeling somewhat satiated, Qin Huai continued on his journey. But just as he stepped out of the shack, his path was blocked by the two burly men from the soup stall, spinning their half-meter-long daggers menacingly.

“What’s this about? We have no quarrel, do we?” Qin Huai asked, his expression slightly changing. He had made sure to don a simple white robe and a plain mask before venturing out, making sure he looked unremarkable.

“You were staring at us at the soup stall, weren’t you?” the burly man on the left sneered.

“And what if I was?”

“You were very discreet, but I still noticed you kept your gaze on us for more than five breaths. Normal folks would avert their gaze after two breaths,” said the man on the right. “This tells us you were thinking and observing a lot. You must’ve noticed our disguised appearances.”

“I don’t know who you are, though,” Qin Huai retorted, keeping his face impassive. “Since we’ve met by chance, can’t we just part ways amicably?”

The two burly men shook their heads in unison. “You don’t seem to get it. We’re always cautious and we can’t let any uncertainty interfere with our mission,” one of them said.

The daggers in their hands paused for a moment, “So, unfortunately, you need to die.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to give yourself a way out?” Qin Huai countered, shaking his head. “I really don’t want to kill anyone.” “Arrogant!” they yelled, lunging at Qin Huai at the same time. Their daggers were sharp and their movements synchronized, aiming for Qin Huai’s vital points with a force like a roaring tiger.

A loud clang resonated and sparks flew. The men’s eyes widened in disbelief as their daggers seemed to disappear, and they found themselves abruptly thrown to the ground.

“Tiger Roar… The tiger qi technique from Wuji Mountain?” Qin Huai mused, revealing their fighting style.

“Hmph! Now that you know we’re from Wuji Mountain, why don’t you let us go?” one of the men said. Though they were bruised and battered, they showed no signs of panic. “Interfering with our mission would mean death for you, no matter where you go.”

“But, if you let us go, we might offer you a chance to join Wuji Mountain,” they added, narrowing their eyes temptingly. Their offer was a clear bluff — their only intention was to get back at Qin Huai once they escaped.

“A mission?” Qin Huai smirked. “Then you two have to tell me about it.” He squatted down and turned them over. “Since you want me to join Wuji Mountain, then I’ll take up that offer.”

“Kid, you’re not worthy yet!” one of them sneered. “We’ll wait for you to join.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Qin Huai said coolly. A pinch of medicinal powder slid out of his sleeve and sprinkled onto their faces.

Their screams of agony echoed through the forest shortly after.

A while later, Qin Huai stood up and mused aloud, “To receive a big shot hidden in the mountains and do a mission…”

The men didn’t know much — they were merely messengers sent to pick someone up. However, they did mention that this person was an expert at the visceral prefecture realm.

“Wuji Mountain. Visceral prefecture realm. A big shot…” Qin Huai’s expression remained indifferent. It seemed he had inadvertently stumbled upon a lead to the real troublemaker.

He examined the token in his hand. It wasn’t an identity card of the disciples of Wuji Mountain, but a pure black wooden card, engraved with the word ‘Ji’.