Chapter 181
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 181
Chapter Title: Chapter 181
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 181
Chapter Title: Ten-Year Plan
With the death of Merchant Blade Wanderer, the Merchant Blade Sect entered a path of decline.
Merchant Blade Wanderer had four outstanding disciples.
The Merchant Blade Four!
They were said to each be worth a hundred men apiece, having fully inherited their master's techniques.
Yet they failed to prevent their master's death.
Even after receiving advance notice that someone intended to kill him, they lost him right there in the sect's main hall.
They couldn't even avenge him.
The one who killed Merchant Blade Wanderer was Four Thousand Four. And behind him stood the Heavenly Annihilation Division.
The path to vengeance was blocked.
The greatest revenge Merchant Blade Wanderer could have mustered was killing Four Thousand Four—and even that was a tall order.
The Merchant Blade Four crumbled under crushing self-loathing and helplessness.
"Liquor! More liquor! Bring more booze!"
"Gulp! Why's the booze in this dump so damn bland? You watering it down or what?!"
"Heh heh heh! Who cares if it's watered? We got jack to do—just drink till we bust. Heh heh! Down it, down it!"
"Let's drink! Cheers?!"
Wandering Soul Peak Blade Hwangsu and Light-Splitting Wave Blade Geunhak upended jars of liquor straight into their mouths.
They were once respected figures in Gansu Province. But now that Merchant Blade Wanderer was dead, they were nothing but gossip fodder.
The Merchant Blade Sect had fallen.
The New Moon Blade Sect and Eul Blade Sect—once hailed alongside it as Gansu Province's three great blade sects—had declined in tandem.
They too had failed to stop Merchant Blade Wanderer's death.
Folks dubbed the "three great blade sects of Gansu Province" couldn't thwart a pre-announced hit and let the target slip away. Ten mouths wouldn't be enough to excuse that. What could they even say?
In Gansu Province, blade sects had become symbols of defeat.
Pure Water Prime Blade Yisong and One Flash Beauty Blade Chuhak had vanished from sight, up to gods-know-where. They'd once joined the Zhuge Clan in pursuing Four Thousand Four, but after that massive manhunt ended in fiasco, they dropped off the map entirely.
Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!
The harsh baijiu from the jar poured down his throat like it was getting sucked in. That's when...
"Tsk!"
A tongue-click echoed from somewhere.
You might miss it if you weren't paying attention. Easy to brush off as none of your business.
Unfortunately, these two had keen ears. And they knew that tsk was aimed square at them.
"Who the hell's that!"
Light-Splitting Wave Blade shot a fierce glare toward the back of the tavern.
A clean-featured middle-aged man sat there, flanked by two stunning women as he drank.
"You? Was that you smacking your tongue?"
Light-Splitting Wave Blade's eyes narrowed to slits.
They were drunk, sure... but they were still the Merchant Blade Four. Renowned masters in Gansu Province. Which meant they could sense the guy was no easy mark.
"How does a tiger end up raising mutts like that?"
The clean-featured middle-aged man murmured to the woman at his side.
"Eyes must be crossed."
She replied without missing a beat.
"Hahaha! Spot on, spot on. Eyes ain't crossed, no way they'd take mutts for tiger cubs."
"Another round?"
"Damn right. Pour."
The middle-aged man held out his cup to the woman.
She gripped the bottle with both hands and filled it with polite precision.
To Wandering Soul Peak Blade and Light-Splitting Wave Blade, it was a slap in the face.
They knew damn well those "mutts" meant them. But they couldn't rise to the bait.
The middle-aged man's sheer presence bore down on them.
Those two women were no slouches either. They looked like dainty attendants at first glance, but the Merchant Blade Four's eyes pegged them as elite fighters.
Even mid-pour, they were coiled to strike. Hands poised just right to whip out blades. Eyes on the cup, senses fanned out in every direction.
"Heh heh heh! And what master might you hail from?"
Wandering Soul Peak Blade ventured.
The middle-aged man played it off like he hadn't heard, turning to his attendant instead.
"Heard somethin'... what was it?"
"Beats me. Place is crawling with dogs. Just barking."
"That right? Heh heh heh! Dogs don't yap for fun. Heat must be on 'em. Mating season already?"
"Nah. But y'know, there's always idiots actin' up at the wrong damn time."
"True that. True. Hahaha!"
The middle-aged man let out a jolly laugh and lifted his cup.
Wandering Soul Peak Blade and Light-Splitting Wave Blade locked eyes.
The buzz fled them in a heartbeat. They'd been pounding drinks since dusk—a solid haul—but the liquor haze vanished like smoke.
Death hung in the air.
No clue who the middle-aged man was. But he was gunning for them, no doubt. And his skills? Way out of their league.
Didn't mean they'd roll over and die, though...
"Came lookin' to start trouble, huh?"
"Ah! More yapping. Like you said, dogs everywhere in this joint."
"I can't stand it anymore!"
Light-Splitting Wave Blade exploded from his seat, lunging straight at the middle-aged man.
The two women flanking him vaulted up at virtually the same instant.
Light-Splitting Wave Blade had figured they'd jump in. Knew their moves were sharp. Hadn't slacked on vigilance—planned to counter even as he struck.
Whoosh! Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
He'd already drawn his saber, slashing at the women.
They drew too—one saber per hand, a pair each. Barely a foot long? Short blades, but wickedly broad.
Clang-clang! Clack-clack-clang!
Exchanges rocketed past twenty in a blink between Light-Splitting Wave Blade and the pair.
He was lightning-quick. Strikes splitting light itself. Seamless chains after parries... attack flow that left rivals in the dust.
But the women parried his blade work with casual grace.
They matched his speed, splitting light right back. And they dismantled his combos with absurd ease—same blistering pace.
"Huh?!"
Onlooker Wandering Soul Peak Blade shot to his feet in shock.
"Wh-what?!"
Light-Splitting Wave Blade, tangled with the women, reeled back in dismay.
Their skills were way higher than expected. Topping even Light-Splitting Wave Blade. But the real shocker? They wielded Merchant Blade techniques.
Merchant Blade Wanderer's signature style, from outsiders.
"Wh-what! How the hell...!"
Wandering Soul Peak Blade bellowed at the women, eyes wide.
"Hey, mutts! One question. Nail it, and I'll eat my words on the dog bit. Kneel proper and beg pardon. Heh heh! Let's see if you got it in ya..."
"..."
Wandering Soul Peak Blade and Light-Splitting Wave Blade clenched their jaws, glaring daggers at the middle-aged man.
If his escorts packed that kinda heat, what did he bring to the table?
That wasn't the point. If they couldn't cough up a straight answer on how they'd learned Merchant Blade arts... sect pride demanded they act.
Stealing rival arts? Death sentence.
Letting someone poach your core style slide? Sect's eternal disgrace.
The middle-aged man spoke up.
"Heavenly Annihilation Division announced Merchant Blade Wanderer's hit ahead of time. Spill it. Why'd they kill him? What was the reason?"
"Assassins offing folks—since when do they need reasons?!"
Light-Splitting Wave Blade spat back, face twisted in fury.
"Heh heh heh! Exactly why you're mutts. Even lowlife scum has motives for murder. Assassins? Double true. They don't waste shots on dry wells. A heads-up kill? You buy that crap?"
"We'll handle our..."
"You can't, so you're mutts. Master croaked over some bullshit pretext, and here you are, years later, still clueless and drowning in booze. What else you call that?"
Glug!
The middle-aged man knocked back his cup in one fluid swig.
But that simple pour-and-drain... Wandering Soul Peak Blade and Light-Splitting Wave Blade froze in fresh awe. Too stunned to speak, eyes blinking like mad.
Just drinking from a cup, yet it wove in Merchant Blade art's pure essence.
Internal energy bolstering spine, spine guiding blade.
Qi didn't flood the blade. It anchored the spine; blade danced to its tune.
Body, hand, blade—one seamless unit.
Solid qi propping the spine? Hands and blade hit speeds beyond dreams. Body shifts an inch, blade carves a foot.
Had he gripped a saber instead? It'd have blurred past sight.
No way that was cribbed Merchant Blade art.
No shoulder-peek hack could outshine their grasp of the core.
"Who are you, sir?"
Wandering Soul Peak Blade dropped honorifics for the first time since he showed.
"Head back. Dig up... why Merchant Blade Wanderer died. Secret's buried in the main hall. Prove you're tigers, not mutts."
"Who are you?"
"Heavenly Annihilation Division ain't lunatics. What psycho assassin telegraphs a hit? They did it twice. Merchant Blade Wanderer. Zhuge Clan head. Crack the announce code, or you can't touch 'em."
"One last time. Who?"
The middle-aged man rose wordlessly.
One of the women fielded it.
"Lost Blade. That do it?"
A brutal gale roared through.
Wandering Soul Peak Blade and Light-Splitting Wave Blade felt tossed by savage breakers, finally spat onto shore.
What the hell just went down?
"Big bro, Lost Blade... you mean the Lost Blade?"
"Reckon so."
"Ugh!"
Light-Splitting Wave Blade groaned.
"Lost Blade" meant one who'd forsaken the blade. Or never grokked its soul. Sect slang for exiles, too.
Merchant Blade Sect? Merchant Blade Wanderer founded it.
Common knowledge.
But he had a sworn brother. Martial world secret. They co-crafted Merchant Blade arts together. Another blind spot.
World at large might buy the myth—but not Merchant Blade Wanderer's own direct disciples, the Four.
- Can't wield a blade like a blade.
Merchant Blade Wanderer's verdict on Lost Blade? Ice-cold.
Sure, Lost Blade had his gripes with the old man too.
Today? Witnessed the goods up close. Verdict?
Lost Blade's Merchant Blade art rang pure as virgin steel. Zero bloat. Train disciples? Every last one—body type be damned—identical execution.
Merchant Blade Four? Wildly divergent styles.
Core essence synced, sure—but each chased a unique blade realm. Master encouraged it, even.
Same art, different souls? Inevitable.
Lost Blade, though... It hit him: those two women trading blows with Light-Splitting Wave Blade? Mirror images, style-wise.
They owned the Merchant Blade essence, no question.
Held their own against him on pure D. Switch to O? He'd have been cooked.
Lost Blade... fit the middle-aged man? Debatable. But his Merchant Blade art? Flawless.
"Let's roll. Can't hack gettin' called mutts by Lost Blade. If the hall hides why they did master dirty, we unearth it. Heh heh! Damn, it's humiliatin' now. Straight-up... been drifters all this time, blind to the damn motive."
"Go on ahead, big bro. Other bros need the word on this. I'll loop 'em in."
"Right."
Wandering Soul Peak Blade stared blankly after Lost Blade's vanishing trail.
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