Chapter 72: Wuliangye?

Blazing sunlight bore down from above.

This was hardly the hour for setting out.

But the closeness of people and the urgency of matters dictate their own priorities.

The affair concerning Zhang Yan could not be delayed another moment.

At the city gate of Qinyang County, more than a dozen riders burst out onto the road. Bai Xian’s group, each mounted on two horses, galloped northward at top speed.

With the Flying Eagle Captain Liu Yongqing riding alongside, every relay station along the way gave them full cooperation. The eight companions pressed on day and night, constantly exchanging for fresh, powerful steeds, barely managing to keep up with Zhang Yan’s pace.

On horseback, Bai Xian, shaken to her core, could not help but marvel inwardly. After all, Zhang Yan was running on his own two legs. They had already run several horses to death, chased for an entire day and night, and yet the task compass pointing toward Zhang Yan continued its slow rotation.

In other words, Zhang Yan himself had run continuously for twelve hours without pause, and his speed rivaled, if not surpassed, that of their horses.

Even an ox would have collapsed by now.

What on earth was driving this man to such extremes?

While the riders suffered in silence, at last, Liu Yongqing, at the head of the group, pulled his reins.

The steed reared up and came to a halt.

“We’ve been riding a whole day; let’s rest here for the night. At dawn, we continue.”

No sooner had he spoken than there came a thud.

At the back of the column, the wandering swordsman Wei Nansheng could hold on no longer; he toppled headfirst from his horse.

Liu Dong, the outlaw blade, burst into hearty laughter.

“Truly a soft-legged shrimp! Only one day’s ride, and you can’t even sit a horse?”

Wei Nansheng’s face turned crimson, but he was utterly spent, his legs limp and useless beneath him. He crawled and stumbled to the roadside, heedless of stones or fallen leaves, and fell instantly asleep.

Liu Dong mocked him again, but when his own turn came to dismount, he too grimaced and staggered, collapsing not far from Wei Nansheng and falling into a deep slumber.

The others, though weary in their own right, fared somewhat better.

Especially Mingyue and Mingjing, the two Daoist priests, who, after riding hard for a day and night, still alighted with the grace of swallows and even had the energy to build a campfire before sitting cross-legged to meditate.

One could see at a glance the true caliber of each among them.

Elsewhere, Bai Xian had just finished answering nature’s call in the woods, and as she emerged, she saw Leng Xiaoxiao also stepping out from the brush, her face flushed.

They both paused in surprise.

A wandering heroine’s life was far from the glamor of the movies—just the matter of relieving oneself or bathing was enough to tire a woman’s spirit.

Bai Xian, at least, had brought modern conveniences like mouthwash and face cleanser. For the heroines who traveled in the old ways, their hardships were beyond imagination.

She nodded slightly in greeting and was about to leave when Leng Xiaoxiao called after her.

“Do you know Zhang Yan?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I just thought, since you seem so certain of his whereabouts, you must be quite familiar with him.”

“I don’t know him,” Bai Xian replied, shaking her head. “As for how I know his movements, I’m sorry, but that’s not something I can reveal.” After a pause, she added, “But you, on the other hand, seem to know Zhang Yan.”

Her instincts told her there was some connection between Leng Xiaoxiao and Zhang Yan.

Leng Xiaoxiao did not deny it. “Yes, we go back some way. But don’t worry. Since I’m here, I won’t hold back. I’m a demon hunter now, he’s a thief. If he dares resist, I’ll take his life as I would any other.”

Bai Xian found no reassurance in the girl’s pledge; instead, she grew more wary. Women of that age, so prone to the madness of love, were liable to do reckless things.

Best keep some distance in future, lest she do something foolish and drag Bai Xian down with her.

Back at camp, the swordsman and the outlaw were already snoring up a storm. Liu Yongqing and the two Daoists sat off to the side, gnawing on dry rations.

Only the monk Xue Tu, somehow, had managed to catch two fat pheasants and a wild rabbit, now roasting over the fire, sending up tantalizing aromas.

A monk eating meat?

But with his burly build and fierce demeanor, it was clear he did not abstain from meat or drink. Otherwise, what sort of monk would take the name “Blood Butcher”?

When Bai Xian emerged from the woods, Xue Tu slapped his scarred head.

“Sister, did you bring any spices? I left in such a hurry I brought nothing with me.”

Bai Xian approached the fire, gesturing at the roasting meats. “I’ve got spices, but as for this meat…”

“No worries! The forest is full of game, I’ll fetch more for us to roast.”

So all this was for himself, the others thought with envy, chewing their rations.

With that, Xue Tu grabbed his weapon from his horse and plunged back into the thicket.

Only then did Bai Xian notice: the monk’s weapon was an iron-capped staff.

Though staff and spear are both long weapons, their use is quite different. The spear is for thrusting and piercing, the staff for sweeping, striking, blocking. Entirely different disciplines.

Before long, the monk emerged from the woods, carrying a freshly cleaned wild goat over his shoulder.

“Ha! Luck was with me—I caught a goat by the river. Now there’s enough for everyone!”

Bai Xian made a show of rummaging in her pack, pulling out a heap of seasonings. These had been prepared back on Earth and had rarely come in handy until now.

She unscrewed a bottle and sprinkled spices over rabbit, chicken, and goat alike, making the dry rations in everyone’s hands seem all the more unpalatable.

Before long, Leng Xiaoxiao had also returned to camp, sitting off to the side, eyes fixed hungrily on the sizzling, golden-brown meat.

“It’s ready!” Xue Tu tore off a piece of goat leg, then ripped the whole hind leg free and handed it to Bai Xian. “Here, Sister Bai, have this first.”

Thick-skinned as she was, Bai Xian still felt a twinge of embarrassment accepting the leg.

Watching Xue Tu tear into the other one, she coughed gently as a reminder.

“Master Xue Tu, what about the others…”

Xue Tu glanced at the rest. “I killed the goat, Sister Bai provided the spices. What did they do, to deserve a share of my meat?”

Bai Xian could only gasp inwardly.

Such killing power! In a single sentence, he had offended everyone present. Yet she could not help but admire his blunt honesty.

Seeing everyone’s sour expressions, Liu Yongqing cleared his throat.

“Miss Bai, after riding for a day and night, how far is Zhang Yan now? Is he still on the move?”

Feigning concentration, Bai Xian closed her eyes and performed a secret technique—though in truth, she was checking the quest compass in the Green Book.

“Due north, less than a hundred miles away. He stopped moving half an hour ago—probably resting.”

Liu Yongqing unfolded a map and pointed to a nearby town.

“He should be there. With our horses, we’ll catch up by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

While they discussed the thief Zhang Yan, Xue Tu was already licking his lips, praising Bai Xian’s seasonings.

“Alas, meat without wine—my mouth is dry as dust.”

“Who says there’s no wine?”

Xue Tu looked up in surprise to see Bai Xian, with a flourish, produce a transparent crystal bottle from her pack. The liquid inside sparkled, and even the container itself was breathtaking, outshining even the crystal goblets of the imperial palace.

Three bold characters were emblazoned on the ornate bottle, and the monk read them out loud without thinking:

“Wuliangye!”