Chapter Twenty: Narrow Road Encounter

  Here is the translation:

  Today's first update is here, as usual asking for votes. I wrote it last night, but it was too hard to write. So I just got out of bed now, sweating.

  -----------------Suddenly RPC Split Line-----------------

  Alas! How perilous is this high mountain path! The road to Shu is harder than climbing the blue sky itself.

  The mountain collapses, the heroic soldiers die, and then the heavenly ladder's stone steps are connected. Above, there are six dragons that turn back to the day's high mark; below, there are surging waves that reverse and fold back to the winding river. The steep path is treacherous and cannot be climbed! Only the sad birds cry out from the ancient trees, the male bird flying, the female following, circling around the forest. Again, I hear the cuckoo's mournful cry, the night moon sorrowfully emptying the mountain.

  The road to Shu is difficult; it's harder than climbing up to the blue sky!

  Standing on the precipitous Golden Oxen Stack Road that spans the vast land of Bashu and connects the two heavenly kingdoms, Yang Zhao couldn't help but recall the majestic words from Li Bai's famous poem "The Hard Road to Shu". As he stood there, his heart was filled with excitement. He stopped in his tracks, no longer in a hurry to rush along the road. Instead, he stood tall with his hands behind his back, indulging in the breathtaking scenery before him, which seemed to be crafted by the gods themselves.

  In an instant, the physical and mental exhaustion accumulated from fleeing for his life over the past few days seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving no trace.

  However, in the midst of that howling wind sweeping through the mountain stream, a faint, elegant, and mysterious fragrance suddenly appeared. The scent hit Yang Zhao's nose, causing his pupils to shrink instantly, and with ease, he entered a state of perfect combat readiness. He swiftly turned around, facing the direction he had just come from, and called out loudly: "Miss Fan, you're here again."

  Her slender figure, as ethereal as a fairy's, emerged from behind the mountain wall with a gentle rustle. Her bright and lovely face wore an air of serenity, as if this were not a precipice where one misstep would send her tumbling into the abyss, but rather a beautifully decorated mansion adorned with countless treasures and precious gems. She laughed lightly: "From Wuzhangyuan to Jinniustack, traversing mountains and ridges, hundreds of miles without a soul in sight. Young Master Wang, who has been pampered since childhood, can actually endure it. This firm determination is truly admirable to Qinghui."

  "This doesn't matter either. Anyway, as long as we get through the first one or two days, we'll gradually get used to it later." Yang Zhao shrugged indifferently and glanced at the white dress on Fang Qinghui's body, which was still spotless and clean like snow. Then he looked down at himself, but his clothes were tattered and worn out, a complete beggar-like appearance. He couldn't help but smile wryly: "On the contrary, Miss Fang chased me for hundreds of miles, yet her clothes are still neat and tidy, as if she could attend a banquet immediately. This skill is truly something that makes me feel inferior and willing to concede defeat."

  "It's just a small trick, but it's enough to make Young Master Wang laugh. "Venerable Qinghui said calmly: "The saying 'A thousand days at home are good, but half a step out the door is difficult' - I think Young Master Wang should have a deep understanding of this now. But I don't know why you still insist on heading south and lingering, refusing to return north?"

  Yang Zhao bitterly smiled and said: "I actually want to go home, but unfortunately Miss Fan is blocking my way. Meow, these past few days eating wild fruits has made my teeth sour, Miss Fan doesn't know that I'm now craving a roasted chicken, ah, with braised pig's trotters on the side."

  Fang Qing said with a smile: "Young Master Wang's words are indeed interesting. This humble desire for food and drink, what is it worth? But if Young Master Wang is willing to follow me, then what he can satisfy will not be just his appetite." As she spoke, she casually raised her white jade wrist and gently brushed aside the few strands of soft black hair that had been blown into disarray by the strong wind.

  In an instant, Yang Zhao only felt his heartstrings violently vibrating, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of "shock" and "admiration". Even the fighting spirit that had been building up for half a day was more than half dissipated. The successor of Ci Hang Jing Zhai, every move and gesture was filled with all kinds of charm. Moreover, there was not even a hint of evil, strange or vulgar air, truly pure and holy like an immortal. It could be said that she didn't even need to draw her sword, just her smile alone would be enough to defeat more than 90% of the men in this world.

  Unfortunately, no matter how stunning it was, the feeling that Fan Qinghui gave to Yang Zhao was ultimately unable to overcome the deep-seated conviction in his heart. His slightly scattered eyes quickly retracted after half a second and returned to their usual clarity and sharpness. A hint of sarcasm appeared on his lips as he said: "Miss Fan is indeed very impressive. By the way, I remember that the position of Right Instructor at the Imperial Court's Education Bureau in the Great Xing Palace is still vacant. Why don't you come back with me? I guarantee a high salary and a life of luxury. Compared to your current situation, wandering around Jianghu, it's at least 999 times better."

  The so-called Imperial Teaching Office can be explained in modern terms as the Royal Dance Troupe and Opera House. The two instructors on either side were equivalent to the president and vice-president. However, at that time, the status of the song and dance performers was extremely low, usually played by slaves with no personal freedom. Yang Zhao speaking like this was a serious insult without any discount.

  The Qinghui City Lord's face changed slightly for a moment, but he immediately regained his composure and smiled: "Young Master Wang's kindness, Qinghui is grateful. However, I'm afraid it would be misleading to the young master, so I dare not accept it. Let's stop here, the sky is getting late, why don't we set off now?"

  Yang Zhao's heart was cold, and he smiled: "Right, nonsense is over, now it's really time to fight. Let me think... this is how many times we've fought? Alas, Miss Fan, I'm afraid you can't rest in peace, and I'm really sorry about that."

  Qinghui sighed and said, "Young Master Wang is fond of beauty and hates to part with it. I am truly grateful. However, this Golden Bull Inn is located in a treacherous terrain, and my injuries have not fully healed. At the moment, I fear that I may not be able to control my movements as freely as I would like. Unless absolutely necessary, I do not wish to engage in combat with Young Master Wang here."

  Yang Zhaoxiao smiled and said: "Really? I think fighting here is more fun. By the way, it's said that jumping down from this cliff can bring a thrill thousands of times stronger than the pleasure of men and women sharing a bed together. Even some Buddhist monks have achieved enlightenment through this method. I wonder if Miss Fan has heard about it?"

  Fang Qing's face involuntarily flushed slightly red, she swept her sleeve and stomped her foot, scolding: "What nonsense is this? You little demon, speaking wildly..."

  One sentence was left unfinished, and the fierce flames suddenly surged up violently from the front, crazily pouncing over. Yang Zhao's palms, which were joined together, had a huge crimson "Li" trigram shape floating on them, resembling a fire dragon soaring into the sky and charging straight ahead. This was just his first move, and he didn't hold back at all, going all out with full force.

  The motto of Jingzhai is to emphasize that form is emptiness. Therefore, Fan Qinghui would never be so careless as to lose her composure just because she heard Yang Zhao mention something about men and women, ignoring the current great enemy. The shy attitude just now was actually a tactic to lure the enemy. However, when Yang Zhao made his move, the overwhelming killing intent was truly unexpected. In an instant, Fan Qinghui's heart trembled slightly, and involuntarily superimposed the image of the current little king of Sui with that of Mohaye, who was invincible and awe-inspiring back then.

  The most important thing in quieting the mind is to guard one's heart. Once a flaw appears in one's spirit, not only will there be no chance to ascend to the highest level of Tao, but also a great regression will occur. In severe cases, it is even possible to lose all one's achievements and become a useless person. Fan Qinghe realized this point, and suddenly became aware of it without thinking, pointing it out. The sword energy of Changjiang was no longer like its usual turbulent and surging state, but instead converged and concentrated, using a single point to break through the surface, making it even more unstoppable.

  In the blink of an eye, the sword pointed straight and true, precisely striking the spot between Yang Zhao's clasped palms. The Eight Trigrams formation was unable to withstand the impact and suddenly collapsed, Yang Zhao's arms, wrapped in raging flames, were forced to split apart to the left and right, immediately opening up a clear path ahead. Fang Qingyu shouted loudly, advancing forward with her sword. However, the direction of the sword's thrust had deviated slightly upwards by two parts, so this strike would at most only sever Yang Zhao's right shoulder blade, thereby avoiding a fatal blow to the heart.

  The fierce move was broken, and the danger was imminent. However, the young master of the Sui family seemed to have anticipated this, his expression unchanged. His left arm remained ablaze with fire, while his right arm suddenly stirred up the water energy of Kan hexagram. Water and fire mutually generated each other, true qi endlessly produced without exhaustion. Suddenly transforming his palm into a finger, from straight to curved, curving his elbow to protect himself, his swift hand swiftly drew a circle, not only resolving the fierce attack of Jianqi Longjiang, but also advancing forward to seize the opportunity to launch a surprise attack, gouging out eyes and breaking throats, using every trick in the book.

  Mantis Inquires About Heart Circle!

  In the midst of a muffled hum, blood splattered everywhere. Fang Qinghui endured the pain and slapped out with her palm, borrowing force to leap backward urgently, pulling open the distance between them by more than ten feet. She shouted: "Young Master Wang, you...you...when did..." Her voice trembled, and for a moment she couldn't continue speaking. On her smooth forehead, a long bloody gash had been carved out by Yang Zhao's earlier hook-like hand.

  Since Yang Zhao fled from Wuzhangyuan, Fan Qinghui has been chasing after him relentlessly. Along the way, the two have clashed more than five or six times, and although they were hindered by their injuries, they were unable to capture the young king. However, Fan Qinghui had already mastered every move of Yang Zhao's Bagua Palm technique from the Yi Jing Xuan Jian. Unexpectedly, after his Bagua Palm was broken, Yang Zhao suddenly changed his moves and used the praying mantis claw technique that the Tianzhu monk at Daxing City's Jumping Horse Bridge was most skilled in.

  A master's move, the outcome is often only a hair's breadth apart. Yan Qing's injuries weighed her down, and her strength could only be raised to 60% of its peak. Even if she could still suppress Yang Zhao, the advantage was not very obvious. Xiao Wangye's strange move suddenly appeared, attacking her unguarded, and indeed succeeded in one blow. This wound only damaged her skin, and would not cause a decline in her combat effectiveness, but appearing on Yan Qing's originally dust-free and elegant face, it was even more startling.

  "Burning the lute and cooking the crane, greatly destroying the scenery." Yang Zhao touched the scar on his cheek that had already healed. It was from when he escaped from Wuzhangyuan and was injured by Fang Qing's sword. Today, he finally avenged himself for that one sword. However, he let out a deep sigh and said: "This door mantis' cunning skill, I am also just beginning to learn, so it is very difficult to control when using it. If it wasn't absolutely necessary, Yang would not have wanted to use it against Miss Fang either. It's really sorry."

  This is exactly what Fang Qinghui said earlier. Yang Zhao turned back and learned a full ten points. The intention was clearly to further infuriate the opponent, undermine their morale, divide their attention, and then take advantage of it for themselves. Unfortunately, he still underestimated the perseverance of Jingzhai's successor.

  Feng Qinghui's face gradually calmed down. She took out a handkerchief and medicine from her bosom, quickly stopping the bleeding and dressing the wound. She said calmly: "Young Master Wang doesn't need to apologize. I'm not as skilled as you, so I have nothing to say." After a pause, she continued: "Young Master Wang's martial arts talent is astonishing, his power has increased rapidly in such a short period of time. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. If he continues like this, I'm afraid that within ten years, Young Master Wang will become the number one master in the world."

  Yang Zhaoxin felt a slight sense of pride in her heart and said, "I don't dare to say that. After all, one's own family knows their own affairs best. My talent is just ordinary. The reason I can make some progress now is entirely due to Miss Fan's strict guidance along the way."

  This is not just a polite remark. After hundreds of miles of fleeing and fighting, under the pressure of life and death, he has been constantly waging war to support himself, not only has his actual combat experience become much richer, but his inner strength has also increased greatly. Compared with when he was at the Temple of Supreme Bliss, Yang Zhao's strength can indeed be said to have made a rapid breakthrough.

  Feng Qinghui smiled slightly and said, "Young Master Wang should make his own efforts, this has nothing to do with me." Suddenly, she lowered her sleeve and reached into her arm. A short sword as thin as a tongue and as thin as paper automatically fell into the palm of her hand. She held the sword across her chest and said calmly, "In my quiet chamber, there are two sharp instruments that have been passed down through generations, both of which are spiritual divine soldiers. One is called 'Se Kong', which is currently in the hands of my junior sister. The other is called 'Fei Yi', which is what Young Master Wang sees before him."

  Yang Zhao's heart skipped a beat, and he secretly thought it was bad. Looking at the situation, Fan Qinghui was about to use his flying sword. The flying wing sword flashed with cold light, its spiritual energy pressing down on people. Although it wasn't a heavenly divine weapon, it had at least reached the level of an earthly divine weapon. If he could practice the Golden Bell Shield, one of Shaolin's four great divine techniques, to above the eleventh level, then he wouldn't be afraid. But now... it was another story altogether. He forced a smile and said: "Indeed, it is a fine sword."

  Qinghui sighed, "This divine sword is too heavily imbued with killing intent. Not only does it harm the harmony of heaven and earth, but it also greatly violates the Buddhist principle of compassion. Since I descended from the mountain, even when facing off against your master Mohaye, I have never used this sword. However, as the young prince's identity is extraordinary and his connections are significant, if I don't take advantage of the terrain to defeat him today, I fear there will be no such opportunity in the future. The circumstances are compelling, and I have no choice. Qinghui has no alternative but to deceive you into thinking he is unarmed, and take advantage of this sword's power. Please forgive me."

  The other party spoke so clearly that it was obvious they had made up their mind and would not rest until they achieved their goal. Well, since things had come to a head, there was no avoiding it. Yang Zhao steeled himself and became even more calm. He said coldly, "No wonder. Of course, I'm not surprised." With his hands in the shape of the Li and Kan trigrams, his upper body slightly sunk, resembling a praying mantis waiting to strike, he spoke in a low voice, "Miss Fan, please!"