Chapter Ten: Pretending

The serpents in the mountain brook lost control and began to writhe again. Ye Xin, unable to care about the depletion of his vital energy, darted forward like an arrow and plunged into the woods.

When Ye Xin found Shanpao, Shanpao was searching for something amidst the grass. Upon hearing Ye Xin’s approach, he looked up, his eyes clearly eager for praise. “Black Robe, your luck is truly remarkable. It seems the Infant Transformation Fruit is yours. If that monster were inside, I wouldn’t take this path for a hundred soul stones, let alone one.”

“Thank you,” Ye Xin replied coolly.

“A simple thanks won’t do,” Shanpao said. “Shouldn’t you... reward me a bit more?”

“One must keep one’s word,” Ye Xin frowned.

“Forget it. Pretend I never said anything, you miser,” Shanpao pouted. In truth, he wasn’t truly after anything; he only wanted Ye Xin to know that the soul stone was well earned. Then, Shanpao pointed ahead, “No tracks nearby. Looks like they haven’t arrived yet. We’ll have to meet them head-on.”

“Alright,” Ye Xin agreed.

“Are your injuries alright?” Shanpao asked.

“I’m fine,” Ye Xin shook his head.

They knew the people from the Zong family would pass nearby, but didn’t know the exact route. Every stretch they walked, they paused to observe their surroundings, slowing their pace.

In this manner, stopping and starting, more than three hours passed. When Ye Xin noticed an unusual sound ahead, Shanpao did as well. He immediately crouched low and made a downward gesture to Ye Xin, signaling caution.

The two slowed their movements to a crawl, inching closer. Soon, through the gaps in the foliage, they spotted figures ahead.

Some fifty meters away lay a field of boulders, churned by a mountain flood. On the rocky ground, several corpses lay strewn. A woman in white half-sat, half-reclined against a massive stone. Ye Xin’s gaze fell upon her, and an inexplicable pain pierced his heart.

Her eyes were limpid, large and clear as autumn waters. Her cheeks were smooth and fair, flawless as jade. Though her long hair was disheveled, making her appear bedraggled, and she was wounded—a single arrow lodged in her shoulder, its feathers trembling—none of this could obscure her astonishing beauty.

Some ten meters in front of her, warriors of the Black Tiger Hall surrounded her, Du Yiqiang among them, yet none dared act recklessly.

The woman held a dagger in her left hand, pressed horizontally against her neck. Its tip had already pierced her skin, blood trickling down. Were she to press a little harder, the blade would sever her arteries and windpipe.

Her right hand grasped a small vial containing verdant liquid. A transparent box lay upon her lap, clearly holding a crimson fruit with scales. The vial hovered above the box, poised to smash. It was obvious: at the slightest move from the Black Tiger Hall warriors, she would shatter the box, pour the liquid onto the Infant Transformation Fruit, and simultaneously end her own life with the dagger.

Ye Xin slowly closed his eyes. Her beauty was not extraordinary, but her demeanor was wholly unexpected. Surrounded by killers, with life and death hanging by a thread, she remained serene—no anger, no fear, no anxiety—as though she were simply at home admiring flowers beneath the moon.

Not only the warriors of Black Tiger Hall, but even Ye Xin and Shanpao, dozens of meters away, could feel her mountain-like determination.

She was too similar... so much like the woman from Ye Xin’s previous life, who faced dozens of gun barrels yet remained calm, only wishing to die before him.

“It’s no business of mine now,” Shanpao whispered, rousing Ye Xin from his reverie.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” Ye Xin whispered back.

“I’m here for the spectacle,” Shanpao winked at Ye Xin. “People say you’re the most treacherous, merciless killer. I want to see how you outwit them.”

“Then keep your eyes wide open,” Ye Xin replied. He suddenly donned his cloak, parted the branches, and strode out.

“Hey... aren’t you going to ambush them?!” Shanpao called after him, his tone loud but voice kept low.

Ye Xin waved a finger and walked slowly forward.

The warriors of Black Tiger Hall and the woman all noticed Ye Xin’s presence. Their gazes fell upon him one after another as Ye Xin appraised each of them in turn.

Du Yiqiang was not tall, but built like a black bear. A heavy sword hung on his back, and he scrutinized Ye Xin coldly. The warriors beside Du Yiqiang wore identical black armor, with tiger heads emblazoned on their chests. Only an old man was dressed differently—in a blue robe, with an arrogant bearing and refined air, lacking the rowdy manner of the Black Tiger Hall. He was clearly not one of them.

“Brother, you’re on the wrong path,” a warrior stepped forward, raising his sword to block Ye Xin’s way. “If you don’t want trouble, turn back.”

Ye Xin’s stride didn’t falter. With a flick of his finger, he struck the blade, which rang sharply and then snapped in two, sword tip and hilt spinning away. The warrior clutched his right arm, staggering backward.

Du Yiqiang drew a sharp breath, his eyes wide. He spoke in a heavy voice, “Black Robe?” To break a sword with a finger, without using vital energy, was no feat for ordinary warriors. Coupled with Ye Xin’s unmistakable attire, Du Yiqiang immediately recognized him.

“Yes, it’s me,” Ye Xin continued forward.

“What are you doing here?!” Du Yiqiang demanded, each word pronounced distinctly. Though he didn’t reach for his heavy sword, the Black Tiger Hall warriors, upon hearing the name Black Robe, all brandished their weapons. Most showed expressions of terror—proof enough of Ye Xin’s infamous reputation.

“I’m here to ask for passage,” Ye Xin stopped.

“What passage?” Du Yiqiang pressed.

“The path to fortune,” Ye Xin replied. He knew he was posturing, but it was necessary; some people responded only to such displays. Without it, they might think him weak and easy to bully, requiring much more effort to achieve his aims. Fortunately, Black Robe had the capital to posture.

“What path to fortune?” Du Yiqiang still seemed perplexed.

“Come now, Du Boss, no need to play games,” Ye Xin replied calmly. “She’s right here. Must I spell it out?”

This time, Du Yiqiang had to understand. The old man beside him couldn’t help but step forward, pointing at Ye Xin and shouting, “And who are you to—”

Du Yiqiang suddenly raised his leg and kicked the old man in the waist, sending him sprawling. The old man scrambled to his feet and turned to Du Yiqiang, “You—!”

“My Black Tiger Hall is not a place for you to order about!” Du Yiqiang cut him off coldly.

Seeing Du Yiqiang’s attitude, the old man’s arrogance gradually faded. He snorted, turned to Ye Xin, his eyes burning with fury, for in his mind Ye Xin was the easiest target and thus the focus of his blame.

“Black Robe, are you saying the Black Tiger Hall is devoid of men?!” Du Yiqiang slowly drew the heavy sword from his shoulder. The gesture was a clear declaration of war. The Black Tiger Hall warriors all gripped their weapons, awaiting his command. Though Black Robe was the top-ranked mercenary in Tianyuan City, they were not afraid to fight; Black Tiger Hall had no cowards.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Ye Xin replied calmly.

Du Yiqiang was visibly stunned, and Shanpao, hidden in the distance, was utterly dumbfounded. The notorious Black Robe, yielding in front of so many? Shanpao could hardly believe his ears. In his heart, he was shouting, “Go! Fight! Kill! You wouldn’t dare? What the hell...”

“This path to fortune is tied to my very life, so I must ask Du Boss for some favor,” Ye Xin’s eyes fell on the old man. “That old fellow isn’t one of your men, is he? His presence here will only spoil our rapport. How about this: I’ll remove him for you.”

Before the words faded, a streak of black light shot from behind Ye Xin, vanishing behind the old man. The old man had no time to react; his body stiffened, then slowly toppled backward. Once he lay on the ground, the Black Tiger Hall warriors saw that something had pierced his brow.

Du Yiqiang’s hand shook involuntarily. When Ye Xin had claimed “I wouldn’t dare” earlier, Du Yiqiang almost suspected he was an impostor. But the dazzling, lethal strike shattered that illusion, reawakening his sense of mortal peril.

If he fought desperately, even if he lost to Black Robe, he would make him pay a price. Du Yiqiang trusted his heavy sword; without such confidence, what right had he to lead Black Tiger Hall? But was it necessary to risk his life? That was the real question.

“Black Robe, you’re putting me in a difficult position,” Du Yiqiang forced himself to look away from the corpse and turned to Ye Xin. “We both work in Tianyuan City. You ask, I should give way. But… my brothers struggled hard to defeat the Zong family’s warriors. Now you want us to slink back, and you killed my sponsor. I’ll have to answer for that later!”

“I know I’m making things hard for you, but I have no other choice,” Ye Xin took out a small box and tossed it to a Black Tiger Hall warrior. “A modest gift, nothing much, but I hope Du Boss will grant mercy this once.”

The warrior caught the box and immediately brought it to Du Yiqiang. Du Yiqiang opened it and found a gold note inside. He squinted at it—a ten-thousand gold note. Not a huge sum, but not trivial either. More importantly, he had regained his dignity.