Wang Chong swept out a palm, sending the girl in blue's Qingfeng Sword flying from her hand. He did not linger for a moment. Like a wisp of light smoke, he had already passed her and was heading straight down the mountain.
Racing through the mountain forests for two shi, he finally came down from this mountain. In the distance, a faint official road ran through woods and fields, stretching far away.
After running so long, though his body was slightly weary, the wave of qi within him was unceasing, hardly diminished at all; he was still full of spirit. Wang Chong alighted beneath a large tree, intending to rest a while before continuing on, and silently mused: "When I fully exert my lightness skill, I can compress a hundred meters to within three seconds—a top-spec Ferrari, really. But a Ferrari can only run on a racetrack; how could it weave through mountain forests?" He felt quietly pleased. After all, since transmigrating here and possessing such martial arts, there were truly many advantages.
The only problem was that he might be a lecher.
Damn it—why did it have to be a lecher?
Wang Chong silently comforted himself: "After all, this is a classical world—where would there be advanced technology like photography? Where would there be a marvelous propagation tool like the internet? This isn't modern society, where you can just find a photo and post it. With ancient communication so underdeveloped, not too many people under heaven would recognize this face. As long as I slightly alter my appearance—grow a big beard, change my style of dress, and sunbathe to darken my skin—the problem of my face is not hard to solve. The only thing to worry about is being recognized by my martial arts."
"Hmm, the girl in blue said I'm skilled in Ice Soul Finger."
"But how do I feel my martial arts don't follow the yin-cold path?"
Using martial arts to flee all the way, Wang Chong vaguely recalled some martial arts-related matters.
He seemed proficient in six or seven martial arts. His swordplay was called Candle-Holding Swordplay, his lightness skill Riding Clouds and Treading Wind. Besides these, he knew several fist and foot arts. Among them, the ones he knew best and had put the hardest effort into were Flowing Cloud Palm and Wind-Splitting Palm. None had anything to do with "Ice Soul."
Wang Chong casually practiced two moves, then suddenly exclaimed, "Ah!" Remembering something, he quickly felt his left arm. Sure enough, a leather sleeve was concealed inside his sleeve. He turned his hand and drew a folding fan from the sleeve, casually opening it.
The front of the fan was painted with several peonies, blooming and lovely; the back bore a short song with rather vulgar lyrics—"peonies red in the third month"—not even as good as a web novel author's doggerel.
"So I use a folding fan as a weapon!" Wang Chong flipped it over. Afraid it might expose his identity, he yanked it, intending to tear the fan apart. But when his inner power stirred, the fan surface was pulled taut instead; the fan flapped loudly yet remained unharmed. Surprised, he thought: "It's actually a treasure!" He clamped the fan between his palms and channeled his inner power. In a moment, the peonies and words on the fan all vanished, leaving it white and new again.
Wang Chong felt quietly pleased, thinking: "My inner power isn't bad!"
"Not only lechers use fans as weapons under heaven. When I return, I'll paint some beauties on the fan surface and inscribe a Du Fu poem; that should let me pass unnoticed."
After a good rest, Wang Chong felt his fatigue was gone. He then deployed his lightness skill, heading straight for the official road, not knowing where it led—he simply chose a direction.
Although ancient official roads weren't as prosperous as modern highways, merchants and travelers still came and went in fair numbers. After walking half a shi, he saw a caravan of over a hundred people, quite imposing, with Flying Tiger escort flags hanging on the vehicles.
Several men who looked like escort guards, seeing someone catching up from behind, all showed vigilance and put their hands on their waist weapons. Wang Chong had been using lightness skill the whole way; his speed was many times that of ordinary people, so his movements naturally seemed suspicious. He also realized he was traveling too fast. But if he slowed down and trailed behind the escort cars, it would look like bandits from the green forest shadowing an escort. Since they were so vigilant, he couldn't bring himself to greet them; he could only grit his teeth and accelerate past.
A middle-aged man with a dark face in the escort caravan was slightly doubtful. He said to the person beside him, "This young man's travel method is a bit like our sect's Riding Clouds and Treading Wind lightness skill."
A sinister-looking man laughed, "Want to ask for his name? If he's really your junior, you could get close to him."
The middle-aged man shook his head. "Forget it. This escort is too important. Don't invite complications."
Wang Chong's inner power was profound and his senses sharp; he heard their exchange. His heart stirred slightly. "Someone actually recognizes my travel lightness skill? I haven't even noticed what dogshit body method I used. Should I find a chance to inquire?" But just as the thought arose, he suppressed it. The escort guards didn't want complications, and neither did he.
Passing the escort caravan, Wang Chong slightly increased his speed. After more than one shi, he saw a small town. The town was split by the official road left and right, with over a hundred households. Right ahead was a large inn, clearly catering to travelers. He touched the silver in his purse and felt greatly reassured.
After all, money in the waist means no shame in the heart; a full purse makes a man bold.
A lecher's silver has no marks on it; it can be spent with a clear conscience.
Just as he stepped into the town, an attendant came up and asked kindly, "Sir, care for a bite? If you're not staying at our inn, the next inn is seventy li ahead. I fear you're in a hurry on the road."
Wang Chong smiled. "Do you have private courtyards?"
Seeing a wealthy customer, the attendant beamed. "Yes, yes, yes. Sir, please come this way."
In such a small town, land and houses were the most plentiful things. They had built over a dozen private courtyards, nothing luxurious—just ordinary courtyards with three or four rooms, enough for a whole family.
Wang Chong chose a secluded, dry courtyard and told the attendant, "Is there a ready-made clothing shop in town?"
The attendant hurriedly smiled. "There is one, sir. Would you like to buy a new set of clothes?"
"Yes," Wang Chong said. "Help me pick out a set of scholar's attire, complete with cap and shoes. Also prepare a large barrel of hot water—I want to wash off the dust. And prepare a table for a meal after I bathe and change."
"And go buy some rouge and powder."
He handed over a small silver ingot. "All expenses are charged to this."
This remote but large inn, though situated on the official road, didn't see many travelers. An ordinary room cost only fifty or seventy wen per night; even a private courtyard ran no more than 150 wen. This ingot was enough for over two months. The attendant recognized a big customer, took the silver, and left, delighted.
In the time it took an incense stick to burn, several attendants brought a large barrel filled with hot water. They also delivered the scholar's attire, complete with cap and shoes, even fresh underclothes and clean new cloth socks, plus a small package containing a full set of rouge and powder, all top quality. They had set a table as well: eight meat dishes and eight vegetable dishes, a jar of fine wine, and a plate of freshly baked flatbread.
After the attendants left, Wang Chong removed his clothes and jumped into the wooden barrel. His whole body felt so comfortable he couldn't help but murmur, "So hot." He scooped water over his upper body, about to scrub himself, when he heard sounds from the neighboring courtyard—several women, sweet as orioles and swallows, calling out "senior sister" and "junior sister" merrily. A talkative girl, her voice clear and crisp like beads on a string, said: "That lecher White Chrysanthemum is truly arrogant. Word is that a few days ago he abducted Lotus Immortal Nan Xinlan. Pity her—she and Young Master Sun were a talented man and beautiful woman, a fine match that everyone envied. But then she ran into this terrible trouble, truly pitiable."
…Nan Xinlan: I don't watch Detective Conan…
Chapter 8