Chapter Fifty-Seven: Escaping the Tiger’s Jaws

Zhang He clapped his hands and laughed. “Of course I was right. The three Black Lords are truly warriors capable of holding off ten foes single-handedly. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been invited to protect Second Brother and Brother Da Niu. However… these three not only need to protect their two friends, but also escort the treasure chest out safely, all while eliminating every enemy in their way. I’m afraid that’s far from easy—in fact, it’s hardly realistic at all.”

The brows of the black-clad men seemed to knot into swords, their gazes as sharp as blades fixed on Zhang He.

Zhang He continued, “Given the situation, the surest method is to kill us all here and silence us, lest word gets out. At least for the next fifteen minutes, the secret will be safe, and so will they.”

The three women—Zhong Shuman, Hua Feihong, and Ma Junmei—were startled. The affairs of the martial world were far less familiar to them than they were to Zhang He.

A cold gleam flashed in the eyes of one of the black-clad men. In a frosty voice, he said, “You’re too clever.”

Zhang He replied, “Even if I am to die here today, I refuse to die in confusion. I don’t like dying without understanding why.”

Hua Feihong couldn’t help but interject, “Aren’t they friends of Brother Wu? And they just completed a deal with us. Isn’t it against all sense of honor to murder us right after?”

She was still too naive, unaware of the treacherous nature of the martial world and the fickleness of the human heart.

Zhang He sighed. “A deal is a deal; silencing witnesses is another matter entirely. Our transaction is one thing, but eliminating us is a separate consideration.”

Hua Feihong fell silent, clearly pondering his words. After a long moment, she nodded, comprehension dawning in her eyes. “I understand now.”

Da Niu couldn’t help but bow to the black-clad men. “Gentlemen, Brother Wu is my friend. I give you my word—he will never betray our location once he leaves.”

Before the black-clad men could answer, Zhang He cut in, “Deep down, perhaps they don’t truly wish to kill us. But for the sake of caution, they must. They cannot afford unnecessary risks.”

The black-clad man stared at Zhang He, unsure whether it was his insight or his intelligence that unsettled him. People this clever rarely find fortune smiling upon them.

After a long silence, the black-clad man finally sighed. “To be fair, I think killing the four of you is a real injustice. But now I have no choice.”

A heavy stillness fell over the tomb chamber, a murderous tension thick in the air. Zhong Shuman discreetly rested her hand on the Red Needle, ready for combat at any moment.

To everyone’s surprise, Zhang He suddenly laughed, his tone lazy and unhurried. “Let’s be honest—do you really think killing us is such an easy task?”

The black-clad man’s face changed. Only now did he realize that Zhang He’s bearing was nothing like a man resigned to slaughter. Instead, he exuded a quiet confidence, as though he were the executioner and the three of them the condemned.

When martial prowess reaches the level of these black-clad experts, the question of victory or defeat is no longer decided by mere strength, but by whether one has the confidence to kill in a single strike. In this moment, Zhang He’s demeanor gave him no such certainty.

The black-clad man deliberated, then said, “If you four can withstand fifteen of our attacks, I’ll let you go.”

Zhang He smiled again.

The black-clad man narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you,” Zhang He replied with a grin. “I not only believe you, I know that the four of us probably couldn’t last ten moves before falling. But I’m certain that, together, we can definitely withstand five.”

To Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei, Zhang He’s words sounded utterly convincing. But Zhong Shuman’s palms were already slick with cold sweat—she knew Zhang He was gambling wildly again.

Last time, when they faced Elder Wan Shui Yi Meng of the Tang Clan, their so-called cooperation only worked because Chun Ge sacrificed himself. Chun Ge was a fourth-tier expert, so they barely managed to hold out. If not for his sacrifice, even united, the four of them wouldn’t have lasted twenty moves. They would have been wiped out.

If anything, these three black-clad men might not be as terrifying as sixth-tier experts, but it was very likely they were fourth or fifth tier. If the three struck together and unleashed their full power, forget five moves—they wouldn’t survive even three.

Zhong Shuman could not understand where Zhang He drew his confidence from, nor could the black-clad men. Fortunately, Zhang He revealed his trump card just in time:

“If we can withstand five strikes, I’ll be able to discern the origins of your martial arts.”

The pupils of the black-clad man contracted sharply, his fists clenching involuntarily. He was at a loss for words.

Zhang He swaggered off. “Let’s go.”

Zhong Shuman slowly released her grip on her weapon. With Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei, she followed close behind Zhang He. The three black-clad men didn’t make a move from start to finish. Still, Zhong Shuman broke out in a cold sweat.

Even after they left, the black-clad men continued to stare after them in silence. Finally, one murmured, “Who is he, really?”

“He’s a friend of mine,” Da Niu sighed. “I just hope he always remains a friend, and never becomes an enemy.”

“Why?” asked the black-clad man.

Da Niu replied, “Because having someone like him as an enemy is no laughing matter.”

The black-clad man sneered, “He’s not necessarily that strong—third tier at most.”

Da Niu nodded, “At most, yes. But don’t forget, even as a second-tier at most, he intimidated the three of you—each of you fifth-tier—enough that you didn’t dare make a move. Now, what if he were fifth-tier?”

The black-clad man fell silent. He had never considered that possibility, but his fists clenched tighter.

Da Niu sighed again. “His level might be low now, but mark my words—when his strength matures, he’ll be a terrifying master.”

“You’re overestimating him,” the black-clad man grunted.

“I’m not. That’s only because you don’t know what he’s been up to lately.”

“What has he done?” the black-clad man asked.

Da Niu replied, one word at a time, “He hijacked the Crimson Goods of Wei Yuan in Hui Ma Town, Yizhou; stole the Blood Parrot Blossom from the Tang Clan Fortress in Chuanzhou; killed Elder Wan Shui Yi Meng of the Tang Clan outside Tie Gong Mausoleum… Just those are enough. What do you three think?”

The black-clad men said nothing more, only stared long and hard after Zhang He, silently committing his name to memory: “Might conquers all!”

By this time, Zhang He and the others had already left the main chamber and were heading west. Fortunately, they encountered no further enemies—clearly, all the other players were searching inward from the outside.

Ma Junmei still couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. “He said he was going to kill us, but in the end, he didn’t. It’s as if they were afraid of you.”

Zhang He laughed. “They’re not afraid of me.”

Hua Feihong hesitated. “Were they afraid of the four of us joining forces?”

“No,” Zhang He chuckled, shaking his head.

Zhong Shuman ventured, “Was it because they were afraid we’d discover the origins of their martial arts?”

“Exactly,” Zhang He nodded. “Da Niu and Second Lei are trustworthy—I know they’d never murder us for silence. But those three are different. From the moment they arrived, I sensed they weren’t ordinary, so I deliberately provoked them.”

Zhong Shuman pondered aloud. “When someone is preparing to attack in anger, it’s hard not to reveal telltale signs of their martial arts style in their movements, isn’t it?”

Zhang He mused, “The leader, when he clenched his fists, his knuckles cracked, the veins on the back of his hands stood out and stretched all the way to his shoulders, and his arms were slightly bent, yet well-proportioned. He must be an external martial arts expert—probably practicing a style like Through-Arm Long Fist.”

“Through-Arm Fist?” Hua Feihong exclaimed. “That requires at least a fourth-tier foundation or the Miao Hua realm of strength, and its lineage is either Shaolin or Emei.”

Zhang He continued, “The one on the left, his left hand was bent as if gripping something. If I’m not mistaken, he’s used to wielding a sword in that hand.”

Zhong Shuman said, “That explains why they didn’t draw their weapons—they didn’t want to reveal their identities. There are several sects skilled with the left-handed sword, but the only one nearby is the Kongtong Sect. Their 108 techniques require swordsmanship to be trained from the left hand first.”

Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei exchanged glances, shocked. “Could those three be from orthodox sects?”

Zhang He replied, “I can’t be sure about the third, but I’m at least seventy percent certain the three of them are from renowned orthodox backgrounds. They’re probably the true buyers of the Deer-Slaying Sabre blueprint. If they were from unorthodox sects, they wouldn’t have the ability to smuggle the blueprint out of the mausoleum. They’re risking themselves just to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.”

Hua Feihong was astounded. “Aren’t they worried about their chivalry points and sect reputation being affected?”

Zhang He said, “If they had killed us and we identified their origins, a complaint to the system would truly damage them. But as it stands, they get the blueprint, we get our share—everyone wins.”

Hua Feihong sighed, “Who would’ve thought that even the most reputable sects would resort to such shady dealings…”

Ma Junmei felt a cold sweat trickle down her back. Only now did she realize just how close to death they’d come. Without Zhang He’s keen perception and quick thinking, they would have died without ever knowing why.

Still, now that they’d escaped disaster, gained equipment and gold, and could proceed to their quest destination in peace, she couldn’t tell whether it was Zhang He’s skill or their own luck they had to thank.

“Xiao Zhang!” Ma Junmei placed her hand on Zhang He’s shoulder, the gesture as flirtatious as could be, though her tone was earnest. “We really owe you for this journey. It seems that not pestering you about the utility bills yesterday was an inspired decision…”

Zhang He groaned inwardly. Oh no, Ma Boss, why would you bring that up now? Where am I supposed to find the money? And Fatty isn’t even here…

Fortunately, Ma Junmei continued, “So I’ve decided, in honor of your contributions in Tie Gong Mausoleum, once we log off, I’ll treat you to…”

The moment Zhang He heard the word “treat,” his spirits soared, his eyes lit up. “Boss Ma, what are we going to eat?”

Ma Junmei nodded seriously. “Fried rice—Yangzhou fried rice!”

Zhang He: “I…”