Chapter 84 Zhao Changhe, Idol of the Masses

Chapter 84 Zhao Changhe, Idol of the Masses

It was drizzling in another small village. All around, willow seeds were carried by the wind.

Zhao Changhe, who was always confident in his body and thought nothing of getting wet in the rain, finally started to agree with Cui Yuanyang when she cursed this awful weather.

Poets could leisurely write about the frequent rains during Qingming, but if you were a traveler, you would naturally be cursing it. What’s more, this was a long journey; he was not simply returning to a nearby village to visit his family. Zhao Changhe had to brave the rain for long periods at a time.

In ancient times, traveling was just this difficult. Whenever poets bade farewell to someone and traveled ten thousand li across the empire, they did not know if they would see them ever again. Thus, countless timeless pieces of writing would follow every farewell.

Having just received such a good horse, he cared deeply for his Snow-Treading Crow and was afraid he might get sick from the rain, even though he had no clue if horses could catch a cold.

Zhao Changhe left feeling free and unrestrained. In the rain, though, his mood soured and he began missing Yangyang. He did not know if she was weeping at home.

From all of this, he understood the line “If one were to ask how deep my sorrow is? It is like the vast plains, the willow seeds drifting through the city, and the plum blossoms in the evening rain.[1]”

When he thought of Yangyang leaning against the banister on a tower, looking into the distance, this line appeared in his heart.

It’s over. I’m beginning to sound like a scholar again. How strange. I was a humanities student, but I’ve never been able to remember much poetry. Everything my teacher taught me, I returned to her. It’s been half a year since I’ve left the classroom and entered the jianghu, but more and more poetry keeps appearing in my head.

He did not know if it was because cultivating helped to improve his memory, or if it was because the rains of the jianghu were especially poetic. It was like he met Yue Hongling—he was most like a scholar then.

“Brother, help me look after my horse. Give him the best hay,” called Zhao Changhe to the worker as he led his horse to the front of the inn. Then, he stuck his head inside to see if there were any patrons calling him an idiot.

The worker walked up to meet him. “Sir, you can be assured that we are the most professional when it comes to taking care of—whoa! That’s a beautiful horse!”

“He sure is.” There was a vigilance in Zhao Changhe’s gaze. He felt this to be a pain in the ass. My horse shouldn’t get stolen, right?

The worker caressed Snow-Treading Crow admiringly and smiled. “Sir, please go in and take a seat. Tell us what you wish to eat.”

“Eh, I’ll just have a bowl of noodles. In any case, I can starve to death, but don’t let my horse starve.”

The worker understood perfectly. If he was Zhao Changhe, he would also have felt that way.

It’s really a beautiful horse!

Zhao Changhe suddenly thought, in the real world, this’d be like parking a limited edition Rolls-Royce... And the Cui Clan just gave it to me without question.

“Have you guys heard? There’s a new cutthroat that’s popped up in the jianghu.”

Such familiar lines... Tears were about to stream down Zhao Changhe’s face as he sat in a corner and listened to what the people here had to say.

“Yeah. Han Wubing is really ruthless. He also had his start in the Sword Hut, but he cut down thirty-two of his brothers in a couple minutes.”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

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His earlier efforts were all finally beginning to bear fruit.

Fortunately, Zhao Changhe managed to endure the slander uttered before him. The people finally got sick about talking about him and continued discussing Han Wubing. “I never heard about Han Wubing being part of the Sword Hut. I thought he was an independent martial artist. Who was it that said he had his start with the Sword Hut just now?”

A man sighed. “How could people make a name for themselves in the jianghu without ever accepting a master? Even Yue Hongling came from a third-rate sect, and Zhao Changhe also uses the Blood God Cult’s martial arts. Lone warriors? Pft. Even those so-called independent martial artists clearly had some instruction from a master or another, it’s just that they won’t admit to it. How can there be any truly independent martial artists?”

“So why did he have a falling out with the Sword Hut?”

“I have no clue. The master of the Sword Hut is ranked eighth on the Ranking of Earth. You think he’ll personally come and take care of that traitor?”

“Why would someone like him bother with small fry? Look at Xue Canghai. He’s not even on the Ranking of Man, and he can’t even be bothered to take care of Zhao Changhe—he’s busy with too many things.”

Zhao Changhe covered his head. If you guys want to talk about Han Wubing, then talk about him. I actually want to listen to his story. Why do you have to bring me up after every sentence? What does his story have to do with me...

In the end, after listening for a while, Zhao Changhe did not manage to pick up any useful information.

As it turns out, anyone could tune in to the rumors of the jianghu, but in reality, only a few people knew what was happening behind the scenes. One could be misled by other’s making wild guesses.

“You wish to know more about Han Wubing?” Suddenly, someone sat in front of Zhao Changhe and smiled. “I’ll be honest. I have a way to let you find out about almost all sorts of information in the jianghu with the greatest speed.”

Zhao Changhe raised his head and glanced at him. It was a middle-aged man of ordinary appearance; there did not seem to be anything special about him.

Zhao Changhe quickly slurped down his noodles and replied indifferently, “If I want to know more about Han Wubing, I can just ask him myself. I simply got curious about the conversation here, so I listened in a little. Don’t think that I’m the kind to drool over the gossip of others. Even for that first seat of yours—I can’t be bothered asking about whether she’s looking for a husband.”

The middle-aged man’s expression changed. “How did you know I’m with the Demon Suppression Bureau? Just from that one thing I said?”

Zhao Changhe laughed. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t really have anything to do with you.... I still wish to say a few things, though. Can I trouble you to pass it on to First Seat Tang?”

The middle-aged man cupped his fists. “Please speak.”

Zhao Changhe leisurely wiped his mouth. “Firstly, I have an appointment with someone and I must go to Ancient Sword Lake. I don’t have much time to bother with other shitty matters. I don’t have to go somewhere just because someone wants me to.”

The middle-aged man could only say, “First Seat Tang suggests that you don’t go. The situation at Ancient Sword Lake is unclear, so it’s best to avoid it.”

Zhao Changhe was not moved. “Since I’ve said I’ll be there, I’ll go even if the sky starts raining blades. Besides, Han Wubing is able to deal with this...situation, so why can’t I?”

The middle-aged man sighed. “You keep your promises—I respect that. However, the sky really might rain down blades... At the very least, the Blood God Cult’s upper echelons will come to deal with you. The more your fame grows, the more they lose face. They won’t be able to take it. If you’re willing to talk it over with us, we can help you take care of this matter. Otherwise, I’m afraid it might be difficult for you to even arrive at Ancient Sword Lake.”

“I don’t need you people to handle it for me. The matter with the Blood God Cult is a personal grudge, all things considered. I’ll take care of it myself. I don’t want to owe you guys favors.” Zhao Changhe suddenly laughed. “And isn’t the greatest source of shame for the Blood God Cult the fact that their Cult Leader Xue was defeated by someone of a lower cultivation? What do I count for?”

The middle-aged man: “...”

“With that said, even though I am declining your invitation, it doesn’t mean I hate you guys or anything like that. But if Tang Wanzhuang wishes to discuss something with me, I hope that she’ll kindly find the time to come talk to me in person. I dislike troublesome things, and there’s nothing more troublesome than beating around the bush like this.” Zhao Changhe stood up. “Shopkeeper, the bill!”

1. Poem written by He Zhu in the Song Dynasty. ☜