Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Elderly Gentleman

The intense evaluation for entry into the sect had finally come to a complete end, and whether it was a cause for joy or sorrow for the various parties was still unclear. After all, many of the rejected cultivators, once assigned to the distant borderlands, could still rise to prominence under the support of second-rate sects. Among them were proud and ambitious individuals who preferred to be the head of a small clan rather than the tail of a phoenix. They waited eagerly for their assignments. As for those who sold their family backgrounds, most people looked down on such dealings—unless, like Mu Tuozai, one had a story to tell. Otherwise, who would want shackles on their cultivation path ahead?

Regarding the few new phrases suddenly circulating in Martial Emperor City—terms like "top and bottom," "the nine great sects," and other mocking words—Chen Hongxu paid them no mind. He had an extremely precise sense of his place in this world: merely a passerby, strolling here and there, stopping to observe. Such rumors and trivial disturbances had nothing to do with him. Besides, these words were too feeble to cause any real harm. Having walked this path before, Chen Hongxu knew well that no insult could tear a piece of flesh from him, so why bother?

As for whether this might be unfair to the peerless genius Fan Caobao, Chen Hongxu’s lips curled into a faint smile. He was determined to present Caobao with a tremendous opportunity—it was a matter of brotherhood after all; one should never let good fortune slip to outsiders.

After receiving two seven-day temporary residence permits at the guard post by the stone steps, Chen Hongxu calmly led Fan Caobao straight into the city, ignoring the self-appointed guides and “helpful” passersby trailing behind them.

Half a day on foot, Fan Caobao carefully absorbed Chen Hongxu’s detailed rundown of the key buildings to watch out for. As for how Chen Hongxu, a first-timer, knew so much, Caobao had long since lost any interest in gossip.

“We’re here!” Passing through streets and alleys like a fleeting glance, Chen Hongxu only casually pointed out landmarks. How much Fan Caobao retained depended on his own understanding—this was no school subject with a textbook to memorize.

The reason Chen Hongxu tirelessly acted as a guide was to help Fan Caobao grasp the power structure of Martial Emperor City, so he could navigate its complexities more smoothly. No matter how gifted a genius was, before growing strong, their fate could be crushed by a mere whim of others.

“Everyone, I won’t invite you in to sit,” Chen Hongxu said, turning to the crowd trailing behind, those waiting for a spectacle or hoping to profit. Then he turned back, lifted his hand to the wooden door knocker, and without much force, the door swung open naturally.

The grating creak was sharp to the ears. Chen Hongxu frowned slightly and gestured to Fan Caobao to close the door behind them—this door hadn’t been opened for who knew how long—and with it, shut out the bustling world outside.

Fan Caobao complied, his face strange as he closed the door. Dust continuously fell from the lintel overhead. He sighed heavily, utterly disappointed in this imposing sect.

Leaving aside the fact that it was built amidst a bustling market with no mystery at all, just a glance at the entrance showed an area no larger than one of his four-courtyard homes back in Beijing: a patch of land, a well, a thatched hut, and an old man holding a hoe—apparently, the entire sect in a nutshell.

Knowing what Fan Caobao was thinking, Chen Hongxu said nothing. He wandered about as if in his own backyard and could not help but feel some disappointment.

Fan Caobao stood beside Chen Hongxu, studying his expression carefully. Suddenly, he strode forward boldly and shouted, “Old man, come greet your guest! A genius with unmatched talent has come to pay respects. You’d better treat me well!”

The old man holding the hoe seemed hard of hearing, ignoring the two large men before him. His attention was entirely fixed on the small plot of land in front of him.

Being so blatantly ignored, Fan Caobao was naturally furious. He turned to Chen Hongxu, clenching his fists and silently asking if he should teach this old scoundrel a lesson.

Chen Hongxu hesitated for a moment before nodding. After all, many things were merely memories, whose truth was uncertain? Compared to the grand and awe-inspiring Luo Shen Sect from those visions, what did this humble farmer’s hut matter? In his heart, no matter how Luo Shen Sect had changed, it meant nothing. He had only come back to see the scenery from his memories. But since he had decided to give Fan Caobao a bright future, whether the old man was truly deaf or faking it, a trial was necessary.

If the sect had lost all its foundation, Chen Hongxu did not mind becoming the villain and tearing it apart. Better to dismantle it completely than to drag out a half-dead existence and disgrace themselves. Afterward, he would shamelessly drag Fan Caobao to find the young man called Wu Jian. Though the Nine Veins Sword Sect was no longer influential, its heritage remained. The memory of a single sword strike that shattered all nine provinces’ swordsmanship was still awe-inspiring.

While Chen Hongxu contemplated these plans, Fan Caobao displayed his usual roguish nature. He tilted his head back, waddling with a duck-footed gait like a ruffian from the old society, approaching the old man.

The elder wore coarse linen clothes and went barefoot. He seemed not only deaf but also had poor eyesight. No matter how much Fan Caobao pulled his nose or spat on the ground, the old man paid no attention.

Fan Caobao grew annoyed; he was not yet at the level to punch a ninety-year-old and kick a three-year-old. Just as he was unsure what to do, the old man’s careful tending caught his interest.

Despite the large one-acre plot, no crops for food or drink grew there. The old man sat in the center, patiently turning the soil around a small red flower, his eyes filled with a nostalgic light that Fan Caobao couldn’t understand.

An idea struck Fan Caobao: if the old man wouldn’t acknowledge him, then he wouldn’t acknowledge the old man either. He swiftly raised his foot and stomped heavily on the unknown red flower, showing no mercy or care for the plant.

Instantly, a spark flashed in the old man’s eyes. Without any visible motion or struggle, something unseen struck Fan Caobao, who flew backward and landed in front of Chen Hongxu, clutching his face. A huge imprint, as if from the back of a hoe, marked his cheek.

“That old scoundrel! Ignoring the rules of the martial world, attacking from behind and even slapping me in the face! Chen, don’t stop me—I must go up and fight him!” Fan Caobao rolled on the ground, no intention of getting up to fight. His words were a show to win sympathy, hoping Chen Hongxu would pity the hardships of those who investigate dangers and spare him from further tests.

This tactic surprisingly had some effect—but the opposite of what he intended. Chen Hongxu’s eyes flashed with sharp light. He waved Fan Caobao forward again to test the old man—his previous move had been too quick to see clearly.

Fan Caobao looked miserable, muttering a long string of words Chen Hongxu couldn’t understand—perhaps curses or laments—before getting up and trotting over to the old man. He circled him, searching for a chance to strike, his stance ready to unleash a flurry of martial arts moves, as if itching to demonstrate all eighteen weapons. Chen Hongxu knew this was mere stalling.

“Ahem!” Chen Hongxu, unable to tolerate Fan Caobao’s street-performer antics, cleared his throat. Fan Caobao’s expression was wretched, but his moves were excellent. His “Monkey Steals the Peach” technique must have been practiced tens of thousands of times. The fluid grace of his steps gave an illusion of rising storm clouds; clearly, he had mastered its essence.

“Enough!” The old man, feigning deafness, muteness, and blindness, finally spoke. The tone was unreadable, neither joyful nor sorrowful, but somewhat ethereal and unreal.

Before they could catch his movement again, Fan Caobao was sent flying once more. This time, he did not pretend to roll on the ground. Chen Hongxu was surprised, glanced down, and understood immediately. He also felt a twinge of sympathy for Fan Caobao.

Clenching his teeth, furrowing his brows, tears and snot mingling on his face, Fan Caobao curled up on the ground, trembling, clutching his groin. The huge imprint from the hoe told the story of what had just happened...

He had been slapped and struck all at once.