Chapter 72: In Deep Trouble

Jiang Pingchuan followed Lan Dao into the banquet hall, which was already filled to capacity. As soon as everyone saw Jiang Pingchuan appear, the room fell silent. Earlier, Master Gong had already informed them that he’d found someone who could save Dongzhou City.

In the eyes of those present, Jiang Pingchuan was no doubt the person Master Gong had spoken of. After all, no matter how you looked at it, Lan Dao didn’t seem like some extraordinary figure. Most of those gathered were cultivators at the Qi Refinement stage, each possessing genuine Qi.

Though they couldn’t sense the true strength of the two young men before them, they remained convinced that Jiang Pingchuan, in his white robe, was shrouded in mystery.

“Everyone’s here now. I’d like to introduce this young man—Jiang Pingchuan, an extraordinary individual I chanced upon at the city gate,” Master Gong announced, drawing Jiang Pingchuan to sit beside him. Lan Dao, fully aware of the situation, quietly stood behind Jiang Pingchuan, though it was rather beneath his own status. But these were extraordinary times. Besides, Jiang Pingchuan was his master, so Lan Dao obediently took his place behind him.

“Gentlemen, I am Jiang Pingchuan. This is my first visit to Dongzhou City. If I offend in any way, I beg your forgiveness,” Jiang Pingchuan said, cupping his hands to the crowd. Some in the hall, observing his manners and demeanor, cast him looks of approval.

However, most maintained a reserved, watchful attitude. Especially when Jiang Pingchuan introduced himself, some among the group cast subtle glances at a middle-aged man sitting quietly in the corner.

Jiang Pingchuan noticed him too. From the moment he entered the hall, he could feel more than a dozen presences locking onto him—everyone here was testing him.

Sensing again, Jiang Pingchuan realized that all the cultivators present were trying to probe his true abilities with their energy—except for one, the middle-aged man in the corner who seemed to be feigning sleep, showing no interest in Jiang Pingchuan’s arrival at all.

“Master Gong, this young man doesn’t look particularly robust. Are you sure he’s up to the task?” A sharp-featured, monkey-faced man with a thin mustache spoke in a high-pitched voice.

“Commander Ink Rat, there’s no need to be anxious. I, Gong, am not one to boast,” Master Gong replied, taking a sip of tea as he looked at the man. This man was called Ink Rat, claiming to be a collateral disciple of the Mo family of cultivators.

He had come to Dongzhou City ten years ago, organized a group, and formed his own mercenary company, hiring out to the city’s wealthy gentry as bodyguards. In Dongzhou City, mercenary companies functioned much like security escorts.

Some protected people, some protected goods. The most reliable and powerful mercenary companies were on long-term retainers. Ink Rat’s company, however, was notorious for its poor reputation and had no fixed patrons in the city.

“And is this young man a cultivator? Where does he come from, and what brings him to Dongzhou City?” An elder in luxurious robes spoke up. He exuded authority, for Ink Rat, who had been about to speak again, fell silent and waited for the elder to finish.

“Jiang Pingchuan, this is President Zhao Kunhe of the Dongzhou Chamber of Commerce,” Master Gong said, introducing the elder. In Dongzhou City, aside from the cultivators, the merchants held real power; in fact, their status far surpassed that of the cultivators, for all the resources cultivators needed came from the merchants.

“President Zhao, I am a cultivator from Sanjiang County, merely passing through Dongzhou City on my way to the capital,” Jiang Pingchuan replied, rising to his feet. Zhao Kunhe himself was of little interest to Jiang Pingchuan, but the two men standing behind Zhao, half-hidden in their robes, gave him a stifling sense of danger.

“Sanjiang County? That is quite some distance from here,” Zhao Kunhe said, his voice cool and languid. The two men behind him nodded in agreement.

“I simply wished to see the world beyond Sanjiang County, and it is only thanks to Master Gong’s gracious invitation that I am able to attend such a banquet,” Jiang Pingchuan said, forcing a smile. Zhao Kunhe’s own smile was all surface, his face that of a shrewd old fox.

“I wonder, young man, how strong are you truly?” Zhao Kunhe asked, his tone calm. Jiang Pingchuan knew Zhao was getting to the heart of the matter, and it was what everyone here had been waiting for.

Only by knowing his strength could they feel at ease. Otherwise, no matter how highly Master Gong regarded him, these people would not so easily accept an outsider.

“Surely Master Gong is aware of Brother Jiang’s abilities. Perhaps he could enlighten us all?” someone in the crowd suggested. All turned to Master Gong, who glanced at Zhao Kunhe, then at Jiang Pingchuan, and finally took out a string of prayer beads from his right wrist.

The nine beads glowed green, each carved with a dragon, its eyes closed. When Master Gong produced the beads, the hall fell silent in anticipation.

“You all know the wonders of these beads, passed down in my family to discern the strength of cultivators. It was with these beads I found Ahu, now a formidable warrior in Dongzhou City. When these beads met Pingchuan, a strange phenomenon occurred—one that will surely astonish you,” Master Gong said, glancing at Ahu and the assembled guests. In Dongzhou City, Ahu was famous, and with good reason.

Hearing his name, Ahu straightened up proudly—being praised by Master Gong was a badge of honor in this city.

“And what, pray tell, was this strange phenomenon?” Zhao Kunhe asked, his gaze fixed on the beads. Jiang Pingchuan noticed the greed hidden deep in Zhao’s eyes, behind the facade of admiration.

“When these beads encountered Pingchuan, nine dragons opened their eyes, nine energies swirled, and the sound of dragon cries seemed to fill the air. I doubt Pingchuan has reached the level to visibly evoke such a vision, but his immense potential outstrips even what these beads can measure. That is why I say he will not disappoint,” Master Gong replied, beaming. The hall erupted into whispers—some thought Master Gong exaggerated, others agreed that Jiang Pingchuan was no ordinary youth.

“Master Gong, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but words alone are no proof. Why not let this young man spar with one of us before drawing any conclusions?” Ink Rat interjected, clicking his tongue at the beads. To him, Jiang Pingchuan looked more like a scholar than a cultivator, with no trace of genuine Qi about him.

“Commander Ink Rat, patience. We are keeping Pingchuan here to save Dongzhou City. If he wastes his true energy now, it would be a loss. I see no need for him to prove himself by spending his energy here,” Master Gong replied, pressing Jiang Pingchuan’s shoulder as he tried to rise, signaling him to remain calm and not act rashly. Jiang Pingchuan steadied himself, observing the crowd.

It was clear this gathering was far more complex than he had anticipated, and the people here were anything but united—each harbored their own schemes.

Hearing Master Gong’s reasoning, the crowd fell silent, uncertain how to proceed. After all, Master Gong was right: wasting Qi for nothing could mean days of recovery.

“Hahaha! Master Gong, isn’t that a rather weak excuse?” A hearty laugh rang out from the entrance as people were about to let the matter drop. All eyes turned to see a youth in a pale gold robe, followed by a dozen guards, stride boldly into the hall. He looked at Master Gong, then at Jiang Pingchuan, his gaze lingering on Lan Dao before returning to Jiang Pingchuan with a frown.

“Welcome, Young Lord!” Master Gong said, rising and bowing. The whole assembly stood and bowed, save for three: Jiang Pingchuan, Lan Dao, and the middle-aged man in the corner.

The Young Lord looked at Jiang Pingchuan and Lan Dao, then at the man in the corner, snorted coldly, and strode over to Jiang Pingchuan.

“Boy, why do you not rise to greet me?” Han Ming, the Young Lord of Dongzhou City, curled his lips as he stared at Jiang Pingchuan and Lan Dao. Jiang Pingchuan rose to meet his gaze. Han Ming, slightly shorter, glared up at Jiang Pingchuan with a trace of anger on his face.

“Greet your mother? You, a mere Young Lord, think my Brother Chuan should pay you homage?” Lan Dao retorted with a sneer, frowning at Han Ming. He had never left the capital before and, for the first time, felt that his status as a prince was less impressive than that of a Young Lord.

Han Ming, hearing Lan Dao’s words, was not angry but rather amused, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. The crowd immediately understood that these two young men were about to land themselves in serious trouble.