Wang Chong had just finished meditating cross-legged and cultivating a round of true qi when he heard someone knocking at the door.
He went and opened the door, only to see Qin Han walk in. "Brother Qin, what brings you?" he asked.
Qin Han said in a low voice, "There is something I wish to discuss with you."
Wang Chong saw him close the door, and his manner seemed rather furtive. He hastily gripped the folding fan in his sleeve and put on a guarded look.
Qin Han cleared his throat. "Brother Wang, you are a high disciple of Wudang and hold no official post. Even if you killed White Chrysanthemum, it would only be a matter of reputation."
Wang Chong exhaled in relief. Realizing he had been overly tense and completely misread the situation, he smiled. "Brother Qin, are you…"
Qin Han nodded. The two exchanged a smile, full of unspoken understanding.
Seeing that Qin Han seemed about to leave, Wang Chong also cleared his throat. "My family is poor, and I am short on funds."
Qin Han's visit was apparently for the fame of slaying White Chrysanthemum. Although Wang Chong still was not sure whether he himself was White Chrysanthemum, that did not stop him from making a deal with Qin Han.
Hmm, how lacking in social experience would someone have to be to devote himself entirely just because of one sentence from another?
Empty hands, white fang; getting something for nothing; baiting empty air…
How could these be words one only hears and reads in documents, then decides to carry out without thinking?
Qin Han's face reddened. He coughed once, silently took out a wad of banknotes, and handed them to Wang Chong.
Qin Han was imposing in manner and had a military background. Wang Chong had always thought him a straightforward man, but seeing that he had already prepared the banknotes and was still trying to get something for nothing with mere words, Wang Chong felt a touch of contempt. Yet he said aloud, "How can I accept this? Brother Qin, you are too generous." He took the banknotes and casually thumbed through them—about twenty-odd sheets, each a hundred guan in denomination.
Two thousand guan in paper money was enough in this world to buy a small house in Chang'an, or one hundred mu of fine farmland in a medium-sized prefecture.
Wang Chong immediately changed his opinion of Qin Han. Someone so generous in spending must be a good brother!
He smiled broadly as he tucked the banknotes into his lapel. "White Chrysanthemum will surely die at Brother Qin's hands."
Qin Han breathed a sigh of relief, clasped his hands, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then quietly left.
After leaving Wang Chong's room, he immediately felt more confident.
That day, Qian Luo Yi came into conflict with them. Seven of them joining forces could not gain the upper hand. Although Qin Han believed that given enough time, Qian Luo Yi would surely lose, he also knew their martial arts were inferior by a notch. Later, Wang Chong and Fang Jingru appeared, and Wang Chong alone fought Qian Luo Yi to a standstill, which made Qin Han hold him in high regard at once.
Qin Han muttered to himself, "With Wang Chong's help, I will surely take White Chrysanthemum's head. With this fame, when I return to Chang'an, I will surely be promoted, and my reputation in the martial world will rise higher and higher."
Wang Chong counted the banknotes, feeling delighted. This was his first income since transmigrating. Although it was somewhat shady earnings, he had been given a second life—who would still quibble over such things?
The next day, everyone rose early and pressed on with the journey. By afternoon, they finally reached Pengshan County.
Those who had come earlier had already booked an inn and sent people to ask around. They all said that a monk and a woman had once fought White Chrysanthemum and knocked him into a nearby river, and his life or death was now unknown.
Apart from Wang Chong, everyone else wore worried and sorrowful faces, clearly upset that they could not personally slay White Chrysanthemum.
Wang Chong felt the atmosphere at the inn was low, so he slipped out secretly. Not long ago, a group of jianghu heroes had confronted him and "framed" him, claiming without evidence that he was White Chrysanthemum. This time, too, it was inevitably an old story—what if things were reversed and White Chrysanthemum turned out to be himself? Leaving this lot of Chrysanthemum-Killing Alliance members would be a good thing no matter what.
He heard there was a Mount Yanyun nearby, and on it stood Jinshan Temple, a famous scenic spot, so he planned to go sightseeing. When he left, he also led away the fine horse he had been riding on the journey.
Wang Chong rode for several hours. The sky was already very dark, but he still had not found Mount Yanyun, and there were no houses around. He was completely lost.
He felt a slight panic in his heart and knew he could not keep wandering. He found a large tree and tied the horse up. Fortunately, before leaving, he had taken some baked flatbreads from the inn's back kitchen, and the sturdy horse carried blankets, a fire striker, and flint.
He built a fire under the big tree, wrapped himself in a blanket, and roasted the flatbreads. Wang Chong felt a little regret but also some relief. He thought: "If I meet someone tomorrow, I'll ask about Mount Yanyun. If I'm lost again, I won't go to Mount Yanyun, nor do I need to return."
"I have transmigrated and gained martial arts for nothing. I must accomplish something. In desolate countryside and remote towns, where would there be any opportunity? I'll head straight to Chang'an."
"And while he was at it, he would see what manner of bearing the Empress had!"
Wang Chong was planning his future in his mind when suddenly he heard a voice softly calling: "Save me, save me…"
He hastily took out his folding fan from his sleeve, thinking to himself: "Could it be that I've encountered some mountain sprite or wild monster? Apart from martial arts, does this world also have demons?"
He gathered internal force in his ears, listened for a while, and found that the voice calling for help was toward the east-southeast, apparently only a few dozen zhang away. He took a piece of firewood from the fire and, carefully, set out to explore in that direction.
After walking over a hundred steps, he suddenly heard splashing water. It turned out there was a large river nearby, and in the river a voice was weakly calling for help. Wang Chong worried it might be a water ghost. He picked up seven or eight stones from the ground, did not use internal force, and threw them toward the sound. He heard an "aiya," as if something had fallen into the water. He raised the torch in his hand and saw a man soaked to the skin in the water, struggling hard, but the more he struggled, the weaker he became.
Wang Chong took a deep breath, exerted his lightness skill to fly across, touched his feet lightly on the river water, reached out and grabbed, actually hauling the man in the water up alive, and returned to the shore. Throwing the man onto the ground, Wang Chong couldn't help but exclaim in surprise, thinking to himself: "Has my lightness skill reached the point where I can tread on duckweed to cross water? Just relying on a slight bit of support from the water surface, I could return to the shore?" He also roughly understood that performing lightness skill on water, he probably could not achieve Patriarch Bodhidharma's crossing the river on a single reed; at most he could run seven or eight steps before sinking into the water. But it was still enough to shock the world.
The man he had thrown on the ground must have been in the water for a long time, utterly exhausted and having swallowed river water. He said faintly: "Many thanks, sir, for saving my life. Could you help me build a fire to warm the chill in my body? And if there is any food, please give me some."
Wang Chong agreed, but felt a little curious and asked: "Sir, may I ask your honored name? Why did you fall into the water?"
He also lowered the torch and shone it on the man's face.
But he saw the man's facial muscles twitch slightly, and said: "I am very weary. Sir, could you help me build a fire first, and then listen to my story slowly?"
…Wang Chong: This guy doesn't seem like a good person…
Chapter 17