Volume One: The Carefree Journey Amidst Unfathomable Leaves Chapter Seventy-Nine: Chill

The villagers who had gathered to watch also noticed the situation unfolding nearby. Seeing the burly man about to smash Han Yi's head with a carrying pole from behind, someone was about to cry out, but in the blink of an eye, a young man rushed over, deftly snatching the pole from the strong man's hands. Only then did the crowd breathe a sigh of relief.

Yet they were astonished—a frail-looking young man had managed to seize the pole from the burly man by force. Especially the old man who had spoken with Yang Ning earlier; he recognized Yang Ning at once and could hardly believe the fellow was so bold. His mouth hung open, his face filled with bewilderment.

Gu Qinghan had been watching Steward Luo coldly the entire time. When she heard the startled cries, she realized Yang Ning had already dashed out. Now, seeing Yang Ning holding the pole, she was anxious and worried. Though she despised Luo and his men, Yang Ning's intervention frightened her. She knew Yang Ning had always been honest, even a bit foolish, and although born into a martial family, he had never trained in martial arts. For him to play the hero now seemed reckless and dangerous. She considered stepping forward to reveal his identity—if Luo knew Yang Ning was the heir of the Brocade-Clad Marquis, he might not dare act rashly.

Yet the status of the Marquis's heir was extraordinary, and Gu Qinghan worried that exposing Yang Ning's identity too easily would only bring him trouble. As she hesitated, she saw the burly man—whose pole Yang Ning had taken—lunge at Yang Ning, swinging a fist at his face.

“Ning’er, be careful...!” Gu Qinghan cried out in alarm, disregarding everything else as she pushed past those in front, trying to reach Yang Ning.

Yang Ning saw the fist coming toward him, his expression calm. He sidestepped nimbly and, without a word, raised the pole and struck the burly man’s head from the side with a heavy blow. A sharp crack sounded—the pole hit the man’s head and snapped cleanly in two. With a scream, the burly man collapsed to the ground, blood streaming from his split scalp.

His agonized cry startled the others embroiled in the scuffle. All eyes turned toward the fallen man. Yang Ning tossed the broken pole onto him and straightened his clothes, while everyone stared in shock.

A hush fell over the crowd. The burly men paused, then quickly moved in, surrounding Yang Ning.

The villagers hurried to help their wounded comrades away. Han Yi glanced at Yang Ning several times, surprised, clearly unsure where this newcomer had come from.

Gu Qinghan had managed to push to the front. “Ning’er...!” she called.

Yang Ning glanced at her and smiled, shaking his head to signal her not to come closer. Gu Qinghan was deeply worried, glancing angrily at Steward Luo.

Steward Luo heard Gu Qinghan’s cry and glanced at her, noting a handsome young man but paying him no mind. Stepping forward, he sized up Yang Ning and said with a smile, “A brave soul stepping forward—rare in these times. You don’t look like a local. Where are you from?”

Yang Ning straightened his clothes, rolled up his sleeves, and replied with a smile, “Steward Luo, you’re collecting tribute for the Brocade-Clad Marquis. This isn’t a tax—it should be voluntary. Since no one’s willing to give grain, why force them? Besides, the Marquis has passed away and the household must be in chaos. Surely they wouldn’t be thinking of tributes from Jiangling at a time like this. This idea of collecting grain for tribute—it must have been cooked up by you and your cronies, right?”

Steward Luo was taken aback and frowned. “Who are you? Your accent isn’t from Jiangling. Do you know who I am?”

“I know. Your surname is Luo, some kind of steward—though I can see it’s nothing important,” Yang Ning replied coolly. “Do you know who I am?”

Gu Qinghan wondered if Yang Ning was about to reveal his identity. Yet given the perilous situation—Yang Ning surrounded by burly men—he might have no choice.

Steward Luo stared at Yang Ning. “Who are you?”

“My name is Dog-Beater. Whenever I see a dog biting people, I can’t help but teach it a lesson,” Yang Ning said with a laugh. “What do you think of my name?”

Steward Luo, realizing Yang Ning was making things up, sneered, “I don’t care what you used to be called. All I know is, in a moment you’ll be crawling on the ground like a dog.” He signaled with his eyes, and one of the burly men understood, leaping forward and throwing a punch.

Yang Ning reacted first. As the burly man punched, Yang Ning reached out, grabbing the man's wrist before the punch was halfway. Holding the wrist, Yang Ning advanced without stopping, forcing the man’s arm along. A sharp crack sounded as the man’s shoulder bone broke. With a scream, Yang Ning had moved behind him, still holding the broken arm. He twisted around and stomped on the back of the man’s knee, forcing him down—one leg kneeling on the ground.

From Yang Ning’s move to the man kneeling, it all happened in an instant—many hadn’t even seen clearly what had occurred.

The burly man grimaced in pain, and the others were shocked. They cried out and rushed at Yang Ning.

Gu Qinghan felt her heart pounding in her throat, but Yang Ning moved with uncanny agility, weaving through the encircling burly men like a cat. He found gaps effortlessly, slipping through like a phantom. He didn’t bother tangling with them—instead, he darted straight to Steward Luo.

Seeing the figure rush toward him, Steward Luo was startled. He had some skill himself and retreated quickly. Yang Ning followed like a shadow. Steward Luo let out a low roar and kicked at Yang Ning’s figure—fierce and confident in his legwork, sure that a hit would break bones.

“Ah!”

A scream rang out—almost no one saw what happened. Steward Luo had landed squarely on his backside, clutching his ankle in agony.

No one was more astonished than Gu Qinghan. She had expected Yang Ning to suffer, but had not imagined such strength concealed in that frail body. Not only had he easily escaped the burly men’s encirclement, but he had brought Steward Luo down with a single move. Like the others, she hadn’t seen how Yang Ning had done it.

At that moment, many noticed Yang Ning now held a dagger. Some saw Steward Luo clutching his ankle, blood spreading beneath his hands.

A burly man pounced at Yang Ning from behind. Gu Qinghan shouted, “Ning’er, behind you—be careful!”

Yang Ning’s figure flickered, as if he had eyes on his back, easily evading the attack. The burly man missed, then felt searing pain in his shoulder—Yang Ning had stabbed his arm, the cold blade slipping into flesh as easily as into tofu. Yang Ning moved swiftly, withdrawing the blade like a dragonfly skimming water.

The other burly men charged. Yang Ning darted behind Steward Luo, crouching with the cold blade pressed to the back of Luo’s head, laughing lightly, “Don’t come any closer. I get nervous when people approach. If you do, the knife might just slip into his skull.”

“Don’t... don’t come!” Steward Luo, despite the pain in his ankle, felt the icy chill of the blade and shrieked.

The burly men halted, not daring to advance.

Yang Ning could easily handle these men. With the dagger in hand and skilled in combat, well-versed in the body’s vital points—and with the mysterious Free-Step technique—he could deal with them easily. But he didn’t wish to waste his energy and strength on them.

The villagers were dumbfounded, unable to believe what they were seeing. A dozen villagers, armed with farm tools, had fought the burly men but hadn’t injured a single one, while seven or eight of their own ended up with broken limbs. Yet now, a young, frail-looking man had single-handedly toyed with the burly men and effortlessly brought down the feared Steward Luo.

“Young man, please—don’t do anything rash.” The cold blade was a strange weapon, radiating an icy chill. Its tip pressed against the back of Steward Luo’s head, and Luo’s face was terrified. “I... I belong to the Brocade-Clad Marquis’s household. If you hurt me, the consequences will be dire.”

Han Yi, the local leader, clearly knew that harming Steward Luo would bring great trouble. He said to Yang Ning, “Young man, thank you for your help, but this man... this man is the Qi family’s steward. Best not to harm him.” He wasn’t worried for himself, but knew the Qi family’s power—if offended, Ru Wang Village would suffer, and this heroic stranger would not come away unscathed.

Yang Ning shook his head with a smile. “Don’t worry. He’s no true member of the Qi family. If the Marquis knew the Qi family had someone like this, he’d be the first to kill him.” His expression cooled, his voice icy. “I ask you—who came up with the idea of raising taxes under false pretenses?”

“That... that was the Marquis’s wish,” Steward Luo said. “We’re only following orders—without the Marquis’s command, we wouldn’t dare collect extra taxes... ah!” With a shriek, Yang Ning had stabbed the cold blade into his shoulder.

“Who was it, really?”

Steward Luo, nearly crying, said, “It really... truly was the Marquis’s wish, young master... I wouldn’t dare... dare lie... ah!” Another agonized scream—Yang Ning stabbed his other shoulder, blood pouring from both sides, a horrific sight.