Farewell to My Hometown

Qian Le called everyone to a halt, gazing at Zhang Ling with surprise. “I didn't expect you to know martial arts, Young Master Zhang. During the gambling match earlier, I suppose it was your internal strength that flipped the dice?”

Exposed, Zhang Ling cupped his hands, forcing a smile. “We're all the same, Boss Qian. Didn't you also tamper with the gambling table?”

Qian Le was momentarily stunned. “So you knew all along.”

“Hah, Qian the scoundrel, your hospitality today is appreciated, but I'll settle accounts with you another day.” Zhang Ling wasted no more words, and as Qian Le was distracted, he darted out of the private room. Outside, the hallway was crowded with people. Zhang Ling leaped up, stepping on their shoulders, and in just a few strides, he escaped the gambling house.

Once outside, Zhang Ling thought to himself: endure for a moment and the storm will pass; retreat for a step and the anger only grows. He wasn't a gentleman, after all, so revenge should never be delayed, not even for a minute. With that in mind, he turned to go back and teach that Qian fellow a lesson.

Just as he turned, a towering man, at least seven feet tall, charged toward him and, without a word, threw a punch.

Zhang Ling tried to dodge but found the punch incredibly fast. He could only use the subtle technique of ‘coiling finger softness’ to deflect some of the force, yet he was still knocked several steps back. Regaining his footing, Zhang Ling addressed the man, “Brave man, we have no grievances or enmity. Why attack me?”

The burly man said nothing; several other figures followed behind him.

“Why the hurry, Young Master Zhang? If you have no interest in gambling, how about a bout with my friend here?” Qian Le said.

Zhang Ling looked at the burly man, realizing he was a hired thug brought in by Qian Le. It made sense—a big gambling house would surely have muscle, otherwise, he’d have turned it upside down already. Zhang Ling flicked his ear impatiently and glanced at Qian Le. “Qian, are you done yet?”

“The two kids have run off; I have to keep you here, or I can't explain to either family,” Qian Le retorted angrily. “Get him!”

The burly man drew a blade and swung it straight at Zhang Ling. In a flash, Zhang Ling dodged, focusing his internal strength into his right fist and counterattacking. The burly man sheathed his blade and met Zhang Ling’s fist with his own. Their fists collided.

The burly man stood firmly in place, while Zhang Ling was sent flying. Struggling to rise, Zhang Ling was surprised—the man's punch was clearly imbued with internal power.

Qian Le stepped forward, smiling. “Well, Young Master Zhang, will you surrender, or do you want to keep fighting? My friend here doesn’t pull his punches. If you’re crippled in the process, don’t blame me.”

“You old scoundrel, save your breath.” Zhang Ling sneered, beckoning with his finger. “Come, let’s continue.”

Before the burly man could make a move, Zhang Ling charged first. The man swung his blade, forcing Zhang Ling to rely on agility to evade. The blade moved neither wildly nor aimlessly; its trajectory was smooth and swift. Each dodge required utmost caution.

The standoff didn't last long. As Zhang Ling retreated, the burly man raised his blade and struck, leaving Zhang Ling no time to evade. He was knocked down.

The burly man seized the moment, swinging his blade down fiercely. Zhang Ling’s body was numb—he had no strength left to dodge, and he could only watch as the blade descended.

A sharp sound rang out.

The blade stopped just before Zhang Ling's eyes, accompanied by a piercing sound, then flew out of the burly man's hand. Unnoticed by the three, a silver needle pierced the man's chest, and he collapsed instantly.

This scene left Qian Le utterly stunned, and the crowd behind him scattered in panic.

In broad daylight, several figures darted over and reached Zhang Ling’s side. He looked up and saw it was Zhang Jingqian himself, and Zhang Ling felt his spirits relax.

“Brother.”

He then saw Yuan Teng and Huang Hao following behind. Zhang Ling stood up, smiling as he patted their shoulders. “You two finally made me proud for once, knowing to call for help.”

Zhang Jingqian looked at Zhang Ling. “Are you alright?”

Zhang Ling replied, “I’m fine.”

Zhang Jingqian then turned to Qian Le, frightening him, and said to Zhang Ling, “You three head back first. Leave this to me.”

Since Zhang Jingqian had spoken, the three left without another word. Had Zhang Ling looked back, he would have seen the fury on Zhang Jingqian’s face.

Seventeen years ago, Zhang Jingqian had promised his foster parents that once Zhang Ling set foot in the martial world, he would protect him for three years. Yet just now, Zhang Ling had almost been killed—that was enough to enrage him.

Zhang Jingqian glared at Qian Le, his eyes fierce as a tiger, his words laced with murderous intent. “Qian Le, owner of Silver Joy Gambling House, never a good man. I used to ignore you, but now you dare lay a hand on him. This gambling house will vanish from Luochuan today.”

With that, a flash streaked by, slitting Qian Le’s throat. Qian Le collapsed, leaving two corpses behind, and Zhang Jingqian headed straight for the county office.

On Luochuan’s main street, the three walked some distance before stopping.

Zhang Ling said irritably, “I originally came to bid you farewell today, but ended up nearly getting killed thanks to you.”

“Farewell?” Yuan Teng exclaimed. “Brother, where are you going?”

Zhang Ling grinned. “The martial world.”

The two looked disappointed. Huang Hao asked, “Will you come back?”

Zhang Ling patted their shoulders. “We’ll meet again.”

The two wanted to share a farewell drink, but Zhang Ling postponed, saying he needed to see someone first, and asked Huang Hao to relay a message to Jiang Wen.

Just as Zhang Ling was about to head to Ming Medicine House to find that person, she came walking toward him. Zhang Ling thought: What’s with today? Whenever I go to find someone, they happen to show up.

The woman approaching was striking and poised, carrying a set of clothes in her hands, though she was already past thirty.

Her name was Liu Fang, owner of Ming Medicine House—a business partner in herbal medicine. Zhang Ling, a bookish fellow, came to know her thanks to Zong Chentian. During a medicine delivery, they encountered mountain bandits. Amid the chaos, Zong Chentian fought like a deity descending to earth, slaughtering the bandits with a wave of his hand. Liu Fang was instantly smitten.

Thinking of this, Zhang Ling sighed inwardly: A flower pinned on a coffin lid—her life is doomed.

Liu Fang smiled at Zhang Ling. “Zhang Ling, what brings you here?”

Zhang Ling replied, “I don’t know many people. I’m leaving tomorrow and wanted to tell you.”

He then explained a few things to Liu Fang. After a brief conversation, Liu Fang handed the clothes to Zhang Ling, saying they were for Zong Chentian. Over the years, she had gifted him countless things, but Zong Chentian never responded with more than a simple thank you. One was reserved, the other oblivious, leaving Zhang Ling frustrated. After Zhang Jingqian left, who would look after people anymore?