Chapter Ninety-Seven: Willing to Accept Defeat

Jiang Pingchuan kept contemplating the strange dream and the words the old scholar had told him. Although the old scholar had spoken at length, only a few sentences remained etched in his mind. The rest was nothing but the soft, rhythmic swish of the old man’s broom. Leaning against his headboard, Jiang Pingchuan gave a bitter smile; he had intended to avoid creating any karmic ties in the City of Yin and Yang, yet it was precisely that bizarre nightmare that had changed everything. He felt a genuine need to visit the Yin City; at the very least, he had to relay what he had seen in his dream to its lord.

The cry of a rooster shattered his train of thought. Jiang Pingchuan stood up, stretched, yawned, and walked over to open the window. The scene outside once again reminded him of the unique nature of the City of Yin and Yang. Despite the rain that had poured all through the night, there was not a single puddle on the ground, nor was there the lingering dampness one would expect after a storm. Jiang Pingchuan gently stroked the small fox in his arms, wondering when Hu Mei’er would finally wake up.

The golden characters in his mind had long since informed him about the Qianfeng Blade. The conclusion was the same as his realization regarding resurrecting Zhou Ning’er: without the strength of a Supreme Realm cultivator, he was incapable of achieving any feat that defied the heavens. He could not resurrect Zhou Ning’er, and he still could not awaken Hu Mei’er.

Jiang Pingchuan took the fox out of his arms, placed her on the bed, and fashioned a small nest for her with the quilt. Once she was settled, he opened the door and headed downstairs. Inside the lobby of the Wan Palace Pavilion, Manager Wan had already prepared a meal. Jiang Pingchuan looked at the unfamiliar food with hesitation, but eventually decided to take a bite.

The golden, fried pastry was crispy, and beside it sat a bowl of white liquid that looked like milk. When Jiang Pingchuan took a sip, he found it remarkably smooth. He had never eaten anything like this before. Seeing the lingering look of satisfaction on Jiang Pingchuan’s face, Manager Wan chuckled.

"How does the young hero find my breakfast?" Manager Wan asked, clasping his hands together with a smile. Jiang Pingchuan nodded.

"May I ask, Manager Wan, what is 'breakfast'? Is that the name of this food?" Jiang Pingchuan looked at him, puzzled. The food was not only delicious, but the name intrigued him as well. He felt that anyone capable of creating such fare and giving it such a name must be a person of great substance. Manager Wan burst into laughter upon hearing this.

"The young hero has misunderstood. This is not called 'breakfast.' 'Breakfast' simply refers to the act of eating at this time of day. This bowl is called soy milk, and what you are eating is called a fried dough stick." Manager Wan pointed to the items on the table to explain. Jiang Pingchuan’s face turned slightly red with embarrassment, but he nodded earnestly. It was true that he had never seen or tasted these things before; it was only natural that he didn't know their names.

"And may I ask which master’s handiwork these soy milk and fried dough sticks are?" Jiang Pingchuan asked curiously, looking at the remnants of his meal. Manager Wan smiled mysteriously.

"This is the signature treasure of the Wan Palace Pavilion. It’s no secret, though; a friend of mine from the Royal Capital taught me. Ever since I learned how to make them, business at the pavilion has improved significantly," Manager Wan said happily. Hearing that these were taught by a friend from the Royal Capital, Jiang Pingchuan realized that the capital must truly be a place where hidden talents abounded. He imagined there must be many things in the capital he knew nothing about, and he grew eager to reach it and witness its prosperity firsthand.

"A true master indeed. Manager Wan, I intend to go for a walk. Thank you for your hospitality."

Jiang Pingchuan stood up and bowed to Manager Wan, who stood up just as courteously to return the gesture. In his heart, he viewed Jiang Pingchuan as an equal, after all, Jiang Pingchuan was the sworn brother of Master Gong.

"Enjoy your stroll, young hero. Come back whenever you’re tired," Manager Wan said with a bow. He noticed the fox was missing from Jiang Pingchuan’s arms, assuming it had been left in the room, which meant Jiang Pingchuan was not planning to leave the city in a hurry. Manager Wan hoped he wouldn't leave too soon; everyone wanted to build a rapport with someone like Jiang Pingchuan—it was a classic case of leaning on a tall tree for shade. As a businessman, he would never miss such an opportunity to cultivate a connection. Jiang Pingchuan gave a faint smile and walked out of the Wan Palace Pavilion.

Inside the City of Yang’s administrative office, ten soldiers stood trembling in the grand hall. Sitting above them was a middle-aged man with a stubbly beard, his face contorted in anger. Feng Wuliang looked at the soldiers, feeling both furious and amused, and kept slapping his armrests.

"Tell me, just tell me, you bastards—of all things to discuss, you talk about whether someone is wearing underwear? I’m not saying this to be mean, but can you not have a shred of decorum? You! Yes, stop looking around, I’m talking to you. Are you wearing underwear?" Feng Wuliang pointed at one soldier, who instinctively tugged at his trousers and hung his head. The others, seeing his awkwardness, couldn't help but stifle their laughter, glancing sideways at the man who had been called out.

"Laughing, always laughing! Do you know nothing but laughter? Have I been too lenient with you lot? A bunch of hooligans without a drop of seriousness!" Seeing the other nine soldiers snickering, Feng Wuliang’s face stiffened as he barked the order. The ten men immediately straightened their expressions, looking up at him with sudden, exaggerated solemnity. Feng Wuliang was startled by their abrupt change in attitude.

"It’s a good thing you came to me. If those two lads find out you’ve lost track of Jiang Pingchuan, they’ll beat you to death," Feng Wuliang said, walking down from his chair to stand before them. He gave each of them a symbolic kick in the backside. The ten men yelped and hopped around the hall, putting on an exaggerated display of pain while hiding smiles on their faces.

"Enough, quit the act! Go and find him. If you can't, you can explain it to those two yourselves," Feng Wuliang waved them away. The ten soldiers left, chatting and laughing. Feng Wuliang was famously easygoing; unless you crossed his bottom line, he wouldn't get angry. It was said that no one had ever truly managed to anger him—not because his heart was as boundless as his name, but because no one knew if he even had a bottom line to begin with.

Watching them leave, Feng Wuliang sighed, turned around, and sat back in his chair. A moment later, a beautiful woman walked in from behind and sat directly on his lap. Feng Wuliang opened his eyes, looked at her in panic, rolled his eyes, and promptly fainted. The woman gave the unconscious man a kick and walked out of the hall. A faint smile remained on Feng Wuliang’s lips as he continued to "faint."

Jiang Pingchuan walked through the bustling streets of Yang City. It was much larger than Dongzhou City. He had heard that Yin City lay directly beneath Yang City, and every night, the ground would flip, bringing Yin City to the surface and moving Yang City below. However, Jiang Pingchuan didn't feel the ground rotating beneath him; he assumed it was because he was within the mechanism and could not perceive the profound mystery of it. He wanted to find someone to ask about how to get to Yin City, but whenever he began to utter the words "Yin City," people would glare at him and walk away, as if the very name was taboo. He decided to stop asking and just figure out how to enter Yin City when night fell.

"Help! Help! A madman is killing people!"

Jiang Pingchuan saw a crowd gathered ahead, and he could hear the cries of a child. What puzzled him, however, was that despite the urgency in the child’s voice, no one stepped forward to intervene. Jiang Pingchuan walked over and saw that the crowd was surrounding a fighting platform. In the center sat a young man, seemingly dozing.

Beside the youth was an iron cage holding a boy of about ten, who was sobbing and calling for help. Yet, no one in the crowd made a move. Jiang Pingchuan tapped the man next to him on the shoulder. "My friend, why is no one helping the child?"

The man glanced at Jiang Pingchuan. "New here, are you?" the man said with a chuckle. Jiang Pingchuan nodded.

"If you want to save the boy, you have to go up there and defeat the man sitting on the stage," the man said, a strange smile playing on his lips. Jiang Pingchuan frowned. The youth on the stage was a cultivator, but only at the fourth level of Qi Refining. Jiang Pingchuan could sense at least ten other people in the crowd who were more than a match for him.

"Then why is no one willing to go up?" Jiang Pingchuan watched as the boy continued to wail, his voice raspy and desperate. The man beside him curled his lip. "You don't know, this kid gets locked up once every day. Who has the time to save him every single day?" another person chimed in before turning and walking away.

Jiang Pingchuan was confused. The boy was locked in the cage every day? That youth on the stage was being a bully; why didn't he pick someone else to lock up? Thinking this, and hearing the boy’s constant, mournful cries, he stepped forward. People behind him wanted to stop him, but it seemed more people wanted to watch the show. When someone reached out to pull him back, they were met with a dozen stares and timidly withdrew, watching as Jiang Pingchuan climbed onto the stage.

"Release the child."

Jiang Pingchuan stood on the stage, looking at the youth. The youth opened his eyes, glanced at Jiang Pingchuan, and snapped his fingers. Jiang Pingchuan saw several people on the other side of the stage raise a banner. After reading what was written on it, Jiang Pingchuan couldn't help but roar with laughter. He hadn't expected the villains of the City of Yin and Yang to be so flamboyant.

The red banner read:
"Invincible under heaven, I seek only a defeat."
The horizontal scroll above it read:
"Hahahahaha"