Chapter 223
Chapter 223
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 223
Chapter Title: Somehow a Suspicious Neighborhood
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The first-rate unorthodox martial artist Huang Yeop received a peculiar letter from his friend Chu Jinming.
"What's this letter about?"
"Read it first."
Huang Yeop unfolded the letter. It began like this.
[This letter originated in Chengdu, Sichuan Province. If you pass it on to seven others within twelve hours, great fortune will come your way. The Jin family of Hebei passed on seven letters just in case, and the next day they found five chests of gold at the base of a cliff. But the Wei family head of Nanjing, who didn't believe it, got a massive boil on his thigh...]
Huang Yeop glanced at Chu Jinming, who had brought the letter.
Chu Jinming stood there with his arms crossed, as if telling him to read on.
Huang Yeop continued down the page. After the subtle threat about the thigh boil came the main point.
The Blood Rain Guest was retiring from the unorthodox life and starting anew. Anyone dissatisfied should man up and come to the Dang Manor in Chengdu before the year was out to voice their objections.
Huang Yeop asked Chu Jinming,
"Where'd you get this letter?"
"From Deng Seonchun."
Huang Yeop didn't know Deng Seonchun's face, but he had a rough idea of what the man did. A neutral faction martial artist.
Huang Yeop suspected the letter might have come from the righteous sects north of the Yangtze.
No, that didn't matter. What mattered was the content.
'Blood Rain Guest.'
Huang Yeop recalled the rumors about the Blood Rain Guest.
The Blood Rain Guest was a martial artist renowned south of the Yangtze.
He had a few striking traits. He always wore a conical hat, never traveled in groups but alone, and above all, rarely killed challengers.
Unlike typical unorthodox fighters who treated bloodshed as routine, he stood apart.
Yet Huang Yeop found the fact that the Blood Rain Guest seldom killed profoundly chilling.
Even ambushed by ten at once or attacked in his sleep, he spared them. What kind of martial artist did that?
Rumors swirled about why the Blood Rain Guest refrained from killing.
But one theory held true: he craved life-or-death battles and the thrill they brought.
The Blood Rain Guest was like a lone wolf.
Not just any lonely wolf, though. A wolf wandering the world in search of challengers to escape boredom.
He couldn't kill them, or he'd lose that thrill.
But the Blood Rain Guest wasn't always mild.
Stories abounded of times when something irked him, and without blinking, he'd slaughter dozens or hundreds. No witnesses left behind, they said.
That brutality had earned him the moniker Blood Rain Guest.
Unorthodox martial artists feared him for his cruelty and aloofness, yet admired him too. He embodied the ideal unorthodox warrior.
That's why so many challenged him, but over the long years, none had ever defeated him.
With time, his fame only grew.
People's focus shifted from the Blood Rain Guest himself to whoever might one day topple him.
Who would subdue the Blood Rain Guest and claim his lofty renown? Would such a person ever appear?
Huang Yeop reread the letter.
Retiring was just an excuse.
What the Blood Rain Guest really meant came after: come challenge him before the year ended if you dared.
It was a gauntlet thrown to everyone in the Central Plains.
'Arrogant.'
But he had the right. Huang Yeop shivered as he read the words again.
Chu Jinming, arms still crossed, asked,
"You heading to Chengdu?"
Huang Yeop was first-rate. His humble sword would never touch the Blood Rain Guest.
Still, he steeled himself.
"Of course. Whether the Blood Rain Guest becomes an eternal legend or a new one rises, I don't know. But I have to see it with my own eyes."
It'd be chaos for sure. He couldn't win alone, but swinging his sword amid the crowd might land a blow. The thought thrilled him.
"Got it. Let's head out tomorrow."
Chu Jinming said that and left the house.
Huang Yeop started packing, then sat back down absently. The letter's opening came to mind. Pass it to seven people.
He knew it was nonsense. Fortune from spreading a letter? Unlikely.
But it nagged at him. What if the Jin family really found gold? What if the Wei family head's boil was true?
'Not hard anyway.'
Huang Yeop picked up a brush for the first time in ages.
*
Some time passed after that. After the harvest, when the air turned crisp.
Huang Yeop and Chu Jinming arrived in Chengdu, Sichuan.
Huang Yeop looked a bit tense. Sichuan was righteous sect territory through and through.
Two massive prestigious righteous sects held sway there. He might run into a Qingcheng Sect Taoist or an Emei Sect nun any moment.
Chu Jinming whispered,
"No need to tense up. You heard what folks said earlier? Qingcheng's turning a blind eye to unorthodox fighters in Chengdu as long as they don't cause trouble."
"No way. Qingcheng guys are infamous for their ruthless hands."
"Even if it's bullshit, we're not big enough fish to worry."
They were no match for the real heavyweights. Unless someone had broken past the peak realm, they couldn't make a name all the way out here in distant Sichuan.
Huang Yeop and Chu Jinming agreed: if they crossed paths with Qingcheng or Emei martial artists, they'd play neutral faction.
Entering Chengdu, they looked around.
Scattered here and there were people with odd accents and swords at their waists. Martial artists from across the Central Plains, drawn by Blood Rain Guest rumors.
After wandering a while, they entered a small inn called Southwest Inn. A waiter scurried over.
Huang Yeop handed the waiter twenty coppers.
"Two bowls of thin noodles. Keep the change."
Thin noodles cost five coppers max per bowl. Ten for two.
The sharp waiter caught on they had other business.
"Need anything else?"
"Mind if I ask something?"
"Sure. If I know it."
People often dismissed waiters, but few made better informants.
They lacked high-end intel but knew endless gossip, spilling it for a few coins.
"I'm new to Chengdu. Lots of Qingcheng and Emei martial artists around?"
"Emei nuns rarely leave Mount Emei. But Qingcheng has a branch here."
"A branch. How strong's the branch leader?"
"The Yellow Spirit Master is a peak expert. His chief instructor Jin Song is first-rate."
Leader a peak expert, second first-rate. Low for a big city like Chengdu.
Huang Yeop pressed on.
"What's the Dang Manor?"
"Figured you for Dang visitors. Not righteous sect types..."
As the waiter rambled, Huang Yeop and Chu Jinming eyed him coldly.
The waiter realized he'd overstepped and bowed low.
"Whoops. My bad. I blab without knowing shit sometimes... Forgive me."
"We'll let it slide once. So what's the Dang Manor?"
"A physician's family."
"...Physicians?"
"Yeah. They got rich lately, so now it's Dang Manor. Until last year around this time, it was just Dang Clinic."
Dang Clinic. He'd heard it somewhere.
'Where?'
Huang Yeop puzzled it out. Some young physician called the Medical Dragon hailed from Chengdu's Dang Clinic.
"That Dang Clinic with the Medical Dragon?"
"Yep. See that wall? That's the Dang Manor wall."
Huang Yeop and Chu Jinming followed the waiter's finger.
A tall, impressive wall, but no ivy climbing it. Recently built, clearly.
"What's the Dang Manor lord like?"
"The old Dang master's skills were famous; patients came from afar. His son's the Medical Dragon, so you can imagine."
"Any other talents? Martial arts maybe?"
"Nope. Knows nothing of martial arts."
Huang Yeop pieced it together.
The Blood Rain Guest must've gotten injured somewhere and come for treatment.
But someone like him crushes those around him, willy-nilly. Like goats collapsing from a tiger's mere breath.
Instinctively, he'd taken over the Dang Manor, then decided to settle things there on a whim.
'That explains it. In Chengdu, only the Blood Rain Guest and Qingcheng's Yellow Spirit Master matter.'
Avoid those two, and no one to stop any mischief.
Yellow Spirit Master in Qingcheng robes, Blood Rain Guest with his hat—easy to spot.
'Should be fun and easy.'
Huang Yeop grinned and tossed the waiter two more coppers. Flush with extra pay, the waiter lingered.
"What? Something to say?"
"One more thing."
"Yeah?"
"You look like martial artists. If trouble brews with anyone, back off. Dang lord knows no martial arts, but plenty around the manor do."
Chu Jinming, listening, snorted.
The waiter clearly had no clue they were first-rate.
Third-rate thugs and first-raters looked much the same.
Chu Jinming waved him off.
"We're not small fry, so no worries."
"It's not that..."
Then, commotion from outside.
The three looked out. Two martial artists on the main street glared, swords drawn.
The men, faces flushed with rage, snarled at each other.
"Hah. Came to Chengdu and now I get to kill."
"Your cocky head's about to get stomped in the market."
Sloppy clothes, foul mouths. Neutral or unorthodox types.
Onlookers shouted,
"Someone fetch a fighter to break it up!"
"Who?"
"Is Instructor Lim around?"
"Saw him head out earlier."
"Or the Southwest Inn owner..."
The townsfolk's eyes turned to Huang Yeop and Chu Jinming. They belatedly recalled they were in the Southwest Inn.
Someone said,
"No good. Inn has guests."
"Then grab old Song from the jujube tree house."
"Yeah."
Absurd. Those two were clearly first-rate or better—rivals even for Huang Yeop and Chu Jinming.
Yet the townsfolk stayed oddly calm, as if old Song could stop first-rates.
'Wrong guy steps in, he dies.'
Soon, 'old Song from the jujube tree house' appeared.
Looked like someone who'd swung a sword in youth, but his dusty clothes said otherwise.
Worse, no sword in hand. Like he'd come from threshing rice, he gripped a dust-caked flail.
Old Song bellowed at the pair,
"Stop! Stand down!"
They ignored him, swinging murderous blades.
Too many watchers now; no backing off.
Old Song set his flail down and strode toward the sword-swingers.
'Idiot's gonna get cut.'
Then old Song unleashed bizarre footwork. His hands flashed like lightning, grabbing both men's napes.
"What the—"
Ignoring them, he slammed their heads into the ground.
Thud.
Dull impacts echoed as heads met dirt; they went limp.
That was it.
'...Huh?'
Old Song dragged them off, casually chucked them over the Dang Manor wall, and left.
Townsfolk scattered like it was routine, no chatter.
Huang Yeop, Chu Jinming, and a few out-of-towners who'd watched in the crowd just gawked, baffled.
Huang Yeop asked Chu Jinming,
"What the hell was that?"
"...Hidden expert?"
Just then, the waiter set two bowls of thin noodles down.
Huang Yeop and Chu Jinming eyed the noodles, then shifted to the kitchen, at the innkeeper.
Someone had said fetch the Southwest Inn owner.
The innkeeper had too many scars for a mere proprietor. Not the number, the places: face, shoulders, forearms, skin peeking from clothes everywhere.
No normal innkeeper gets scars there.
Plus, his grip on the kitchen knife looked off—like a newbie.
They each took a bite of noodles.
Awful for a chef's work.
But instinct screamed: don't complain.
'These Chengdu folks. The Dang Manor. All suspicious.'
Cold sweat beaded on their backs.