Chapter Sixty-One: Lord Phoenix Paulownia

Jiang Pingchuan stood early in the morning atop the command platform of the Tuoba tribe, gazing at the Taishan Bear in the center. He felt there was something different about the Taishan Bear before him compared to the one from last night. After carefully sensing its aura, Jiang Pingchuan discovered that the bear's gallbladder—the source of its intelligence and the womb for the precious Bear Pellet—was missing. The Bear Pellet held wondrous properties, yet someone had taken the Taishan Bear's gallbladder.

It was said that today was the day those legendary figures were coming to retrieve the Taishan Bear. The old chieftain had sent word to them the moment the bear was captured last night. Rumor had it that the Taishan Bear was a gift from Marquis Yunsui to celebrate the birthday of the princess in the royal capital. Others claimed Marquis Yunsui intended to use the bear as a betrothal gift to the Lan imperial family in the capital, seeking the hand of the Lan princess for his son.

A rapid clatter of hooves echoed from nearby. Jiang Pingchuan looked up as dust kicked up by the horses hung suspended in the air. Leading the group was a man dressed in splendid crimson attire. His eyebrows were sharp as swords, his eyes wide and fierce, and a wicked smile played at his lips. Jiang Pingchuan's first impression was that this man would be difficult to deal with. The chieftain and Tuoba Yunlong’s hunting squad waited at the gate to welcome the horsemen.

Yet as the chieftain and Tuoba Yunlong bowed with hand to chest, they received not a courteous reply, but a gust of dust stirred by the horses. The young leader sneered, refusing to rein in his mount. Instead, he led his company straight into the tribe, circling the Taishan Bear before dismounting with a flourish, whip in hand, watching as the old chieftain and his people hurried toward him.

None of them seemed to notice Jiang Pingchuan, as if none of the Tuoba tribe were worthy of their glance. Jiang Pingchuan leaned against the fence, observing the man's demeanor. Though he appeared frivolous and detached, his inner nature was ruthless. The way he held his whip revealed him as someone accustomed to the saddle—a man not to be underestimated.

“Tuoba Hemu, come here, come here,” the man beckoned, as if summoning a servant. The old chieftain, Tuoba Hemu, stepped forward with frail determination, trying to quicken his pace. He forced a smile, but Jiang Pingchuan could see the bitterness and helplessness beneath it. The faces of Tuoba Yunlong and the others behind him were grim, but there was nothing they could do. The opposing party numbered over fifty, each clad in armor and armed with sharp blades—an overwhelming force.

Tuoba Hemu approached, breathing heavily, and pointed to the Taishan Bear behind the young man. Only in this moment did his smile seem genuine, for the bear represented the true feelings in his eyes. So many hunting parties had been sent out, so many brave Tuoba warriors sacrificed to capture the Taishan Bear at last.

“Lord Fengtong, look at the Taishan Bear—” he began.

“Ha, Tuoba Hemu, don’t be so hasty. I’ve come all this way, and my boots have gotten dirty,” Fengtong interrupted, sneering as he waved his hand to silence Tuoba Hemu, his gaze lingering on his bright red boots.

Tuoba Hemu paused, embarrassed, and looked down at Fengtong’s boots. There was indeed some dust on them. As he hesitated, Fengtong snorted coldly and lifted his foot, swinging it before Tuoba Hemu’s eyes—urging him to hurry.

“Chieftain…” Tuoba Yunlong stepped forward angrily, but the chieftain pulled him back, shaking his head. Fengtong looked up at Tuoba Yunlong with a mocking grin—here, he feared no one who dared challenge him.

“What, Tuoba Yunlong? Want to try? I don’t care for your presence—get out of my sight!” Fengtong glared at Tuoba Yunlong, barking his command, indifferent to how others regarded the insult.

“Yunlong, go back,” Tuoba Hemu patted Yunlong’s shoulder, urging him to withdraw. Provoking Fengtong here would only bring them trouble. Tuoba Yunlong glared at Fengtong, snorted coldly, and turned to leave.

A sudden crash. Tuoba Yunlong had barely taken a step before a man kicked him hard in the back, sending him flying to the ground in a cloud of dust. Blood mixed with mud clung to his lips as he lay struggling, unable to rise. Jiang Pingchuan squinted at the man pressing his foot against Yunlong’s back—the same man who had stood behind Fengtong.

The moment Yunlong moved, the man acted. A fifth-tier Qi Cultivator, Jiang Pingchuan immediately assessed his level. This was the first cultivator he’d seen on the Changfeng Continent, and to reach the fifth tier here, where power was suppressed, was no simple feat.

“Lord Fengtong, why this violence?” Tuoba Hemu frowned, seeing Yunlong willing to step back, yet Fengtong refused to relent, having his subordinate strike Yunlong down.

“I said get out. Who told him to leave—was it you, you, you, or you?” Fengtong pointed his whip at Tuoba Hemu and the others behind him, barking his accusation.

Seeing no one dare retort, Fengtong strolled to Yunlong’s side, patted the young man’s shoulder, signaling him to step aside, and the youth bowed respectfully to Fengtong.

“Well, Tuoba Yunlong, so much for the tribe’s greatest warrior. You can’t even best Duolun, yet you dare bluff in front of me? Overestimating yourself,” Fengtong taunted, tapping Yunlong’s face with his whip and laughing as he returned to Tuoba Hemu, glancing down at his boots.

Now stained with Yunlong’s blood and mud, the boots stood out sharply. Tuoba Hemu slowly bent down, rolling up his robe sleeves. Fengtong and his men laughed, watching the ridiculous scene—a chieftain forced to kneel and polish Fengtong’s boots, a tale worth boasting about.

“Lord Manure, must you go so far?” Just as Tuoba Hemu was about to bend fully, someone gripped his shoulder, gently raising him upright. Jiang Pingchuan’s intervention stunned the Tuoba tribesmen.

After all, Jiang Pingchuan was an outsider. Those behind him now felt a surge of confidence, remembering how Jiang Pingchuan had slain the Taishan Bear with nothing but a tree branch. Tuoba Yunlong, now helped up, fixed his gaze on Jiang Pingchuan, as did both groups present.

“You brat—what did you say?” Duolun, standing behind Fengtong, charged to Jiang Pingchuan, eyes locked fiercely on him. Jiang Pingchuan did not evade Duolun’s glare, but stood calmly, meeting his gaze.

“What did I just say?” Jiang Pingchuan replied with a breath, raising his brows nonchalantly at Duolun, whose eyes stung with the challenge.

“You called him Lord Manure…” Duolun spat out, realizing too late he’d been played by Jiang Pingchuan. He turned to Fengtong, who glared darkly at him. Duolun clenched his fists.

A sudden blow. Duolun’s vision darkened as Jiang Pingchuan’s fist smashed into his face, sending him flying, blood streaming from his seven orifices. He crashed to the ground, more severely wounded than Tuoba Yunlong.

Fengtong did not look back at Duolun lying on the ground, but stared at Jiang Pingchuan with wild delight, as if he’d discovered a treasure. Duolun coughed blood and passed out.

“So fragile,” Jiang Pingchuan remarked, rubbing his hands. He hadn’t used full strength, and Duolun was easily defeated. His transparent true energy was indeed more formidable than ordinary true energy. He saw Fengtong eye him as one would a naked beauty.

“If you’re willing to follow me, I can overlook this,” Fengtong said, pointing his whip at Jiang Pingchuan’s chest with a mocking smile.

Jiang Pingchuan gripped Fengtong’s throat, lifting him off the ground. Fengtong’s eyes rolled back, his face flushed, hands flailing helplessly at Jiang Pingchuan’s arm.

Jiang Pingchuan smiled at Fengtong’s men, who hesitated to intervene—fearful Jiang Pingchuan might kill Fengtong outright. Never before had anyone dared treat Fengtong this way.

“Can you still overlook the past now?” Jiang Pingchuan snatched Fengtong’s whip and threw him to the ground.