"Well, well, isn't this Young Master Liang himself!"
Before Chen Sanshi could move, a shrill voice rang out from the side.
Wang Zhi stepped in front of the old servant, grinning ear to ear. "What brings such a distinguished guest to our humble place? Forgive me for not greeting you sooner, Young Master Liang. What urgent business brings you here today?"
Chen Sanshi spoke first. "Young Master Liang wanted to invite me to Spring Full Pavilion as a guest."
"Is that so?!"
Wang Zhi's grin widened until his small bean-like eyes nearly disappeared. "Young Master Liang, that's not very courteous of you! Why invite Little Shitou but not me? Come on, let's all go together!"
…
Liang Zhan's face stiffened. He hurriedly took a step back, forcing out a polite smile. "Hundred-Household Wang, I merely came to ask a few questions. Since Flag Officer Chen is busy, I'll visit another day."
He turned to leave, but Wang Zhi clamped an arm around his shoulder.
"He's busy, but I'm not! Come on, come on—I heard Spring Full Pavilion just hired new girls, all soft and fresh, eh~"
"Hundred-Household Wang!"
Liang Zhan struggled out of his grip, sweating. "Ah, that reminds me—I suddenly have an urgent matter to attend to. I'll be taking my leave now!"
"Hmm?"
Wang Zhi's face fell. "Young Master Liang, are we not friends anymore?"
"No, no, of course not!"
Liang Zhan quickly pulled a five-tael silver ingot from his sleeve. "Truly, something came up. Next time, I promise!"
He stuffed the ingot into Wang Zhi's hand, then tugged the old servant along and fled down the street.
"Almost lost twenty taels of silver there!"
Once he was sure no one was following, Liang Zhan let out a long sigh of relief.
If that fat bastard Wang ever made it to the restaurant, he'd order the most expensive dishes and wine without shame. Even for someone from a rich family, that kind of man could bleed your purse dry.
"Young Master," the old servant asked, "you're just going to let it go like this?"
"Guess what I just saw?"
Liang Zhan gestured at his neck. "That longevity lock of Qin Feng's—the one he always wore—it's hanging around Fat Wang's neck now. So the matter has nothing to do with that Chen fellow."
"Oh?"
The old servant's brows lifted. "Then is it possible that Hundred-Household Wang came into contact with the immortal treasure?"
"No chance."
Liang Zhan analyzed calmly. "If he'd really gotten the immortal treasure, would he dare to hang the longevity lock on his neck and flaunt it? No. I was overthinking before. The treasure must've been taken by the Witch God Sect. Wu Bo, we must move faster—find that immortal treasure before Xiang Tingchun does, or we'll be forced to pay a hefty price for it later."
"Rest assured, Young Master," the old servant said with his head bowed. "All the reliable disciples in the martial hall have already been sent out to investigate."
…
"This Young Master Liang is getting stingier by the day," Wang Zhi said with a snort, tossing the silver ingot in his hand.
He started to hand it to Chen Sanshi, but halfway through, he hesitated. Then he broke off two taels' worth in smaller pieces and handed that over instead. "Half and half."
"…"
Chen Sanshi didn't complain. He took the silver and pocketed it.
"What did he want from you, anyway?"
Wang Zhi squinted, his small eyes gleaming as he pinched the golden longevity lock hanging on his own neck. "It's about that boy, isn't it? What was his name again—Qin something?"
"I'm not sure," Chen Sanshi said, playing dumb.
He hadn't realized until now that the gold lock came from Qin Feng. No wonder Liang Zhan had kept staring at it earlier.
'So Qin Feng's death isn't a secret anymore,' he thought.
Still, as long as it didn't involve the immortal treasure, no one would make trouble for him over one dead martial hall disciple.
"Heh, you don't trust me?"
Wang Zhi chuckled. "Remember what I told you before? Don't overthink things. You killed him, so what? If anyone asks, I'll back you up. As long as I'm here, no one can touch you."
"I really don't know anything," Chen Sanshi said cautiously.
Some things were better left unsaid, even when both sides knew the truth.
"Look at you—so wary all the time!"
Wang Zhi waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, I'll stop beating around the bush so you don't think I've got hidden motives."
His tone suddenly turned serious.
"In Poyang County, no matter who you offend, I'll stand behind you—even if it's Thousand-Household Xiang himself."
He met Chen Sanshi's eyes and continued, voice low and firm.
"I only ask one thing from you."
"If one day you enter the Eight Northern Garrisons and become one of Grand Commander Sun's personal disciples, just deliver a single message for me."
"Tell the Grand Commander that Wang Zhi… wants to atone for his sins through merit."
"I just want the Grand Commander to give me one more chance. Even if it's just to serve as a groom—or to die in battle—I want to die in the Eight Northern Garrisons!"
In the barracks, Chen Sanshi had heard a few rumors before.
They said Wang Zhi came from the Eight Northern Garrisons and had connections with high-ranking officers there.
But the phrase atone for sins through merit—those four words carried heavy weight.
Since Wang Zhi held the rank of Hundred-Household, his cultivation shouldn't be higher than tempering bones.
So what kind of crime could a mere tempering bones cultivator have committed that required redemption through service? And from the way he spoke, it sounded like he used to know Grand Commander Sun personally.
Forget it.
Since the man had opened up, Chen Sanshi had to respond earnestly.
He straightened and said solemnly, "Rest assured, Hundred-Household Wang. If I'm ever fortunate enough to enter the Eight Northern Garrisons and meet Grand Commander Sun, I will deliver your message—no matter what."
"Good, good!"
Wang Zhi nodded repeatedly, eyes gleaming. "From now on, don't call me Hundred-Household. We're brothers now—just call me Fatty."
"Is that appropriate?" Chen Sanshi asked.
"Appropriate, my ass! What's wrong with it?"
Wang Zhi barked a laugh, waved his sleeve, and turned to leave. "And if that Liang brat dares bother you again, tell me. I'll cover my face and gut him myself tonight."
"…"
At that moment, watching Wang Zhi's plump figure waddle away, Chen Sanshi couldn't help but think—maybe calling him "greedy scoundrel" or "scheming bastard" didn't quite fit after all.
Still, a man's face could lie. Words could be cheap.
What mattered was what he did, not what he said.
Shaking his head, Chen Sanshi dismissed the thought and went home, already planning tomorrow's hunt.
He needed to grow stronger—and fast.
This business of people coming straight to his door was something he never wanted to experience again.
A tiger!
If he could bring down a single tiger, it would sustain him for quite a while.
Tomorrow, he'd visit Swallow-Edge Village and ask Uncle Zhao.
They might not be strong enough to kill a tiger themselves, but they'd been in the mountains for years—they'd surely know where one could be found.
Even with his Tracking and Hiding skill, he'd need a rough direction to start from. The Tiger Head Mountain range was vast; without clues, it could take forever to find anything.
After dinner, Chen Sanshi brewed a bowl of Blood-Replenishing Soup, drank it, and trained until deep into the night before finally resting.
…
The next morning.
Chen Sanshi rose before dawn.
Swallow-Edge Village wasn't close, so he decided to ride a horse to save time.
He failed again.
The horse was ferocious, refusing to submit no matter how he coaxed or scolded—it kicked, snorted, and reared wildly.
Still, his Horsemanship skill improved noticeably.
[Skill: Horsemanship (Uninitiated)]
[Progress: (75/100)]
[Effect: None]
A few more tries and he'd reach Beginner level—then he'd finally be able to tame it.
Having a mount was crucial for travel and battle alike.
Leaving the barracks, he rode out toward Swallow-Edge Village.
"You're going tiger hunting?"
Zhao Qiao, Wu Da, and Zhuang Yi were all there, getting ready to go hunt wolves together.
"That's right," Chen Sanshi nodded. "Uncle Zhao's an experienced hunter—you must know something."
"Sure," Zhao Qiao said with a grin. "Let's head into the mountains together!"
The four of them followed a mountain stream to where the southern and northern peaks of Tiger Head Mountain met.
Zhao Qiao pointed southwest. "Five years ago, old Liu from our village spotted a tiger in a cave about twenty li that way. Scared him so bad he wet his pants! Lucky for him, the beast didn't see him—he ran straight home after that. But I don't know if it's still there now."
"Thank you, Uncle Zhao!"
Chen Sanshi clasped his hands and stepped toward the stream.
Even from afar, he could see animal tracks and signs scattered across the opposite slope.
All of it—money waiting to be earned.
Zhao Qiao and the other two just stood there, staring at him enviously.
"Uncle Zhao," Chen Sanshi said with a small smile. "Why don't we go together?"
"No, no," Zhao Qiao waved his hands frantically. "That black bear nearly killed us last time—don't even mention a tiger! We'd only drag you down. Be careful, Little Shitou. Tigers are even fiercer than bears!"
"Uncle Zhao," Wu Da muttered, staring greedily at the thick forest beyond the stream, "how about we go too? Even if we don't hunt tigers, maybe we could bag a mountain goat or something…"
"Are you crazy?" Zhao Qiao snapped. "Did you forget how old Liu died?"
He jabbed a finger toward the trees. "Three years ago, he was starving and went across to hunt a deer. Some martial hall disciples spotted him and tried to take it. When he refused, they didn't even bother paying—they shot him full of arrows like a hedgehog! If I hadn't risked sneaking over to bring his body back, no one would've ever found it."
"…"
All that… just for hunting on the wrong side of the mountain?
Chen Sanshi felt a wave of heaviness in his chest.
He didn't push further.
It was fine for him to go—he had the strength and the authority—but Uncle Zhao and the others? If something happened to them, it wouldn't be worth it.
After bidding the three farewell, Chen Sanshi slung his bow and spear over his back, took a running start, and leapt across the stream—disappearing into the dense forest beyond.