Martial King's Retired Life

“There you have it.” Sitting at Happy Chain Camp Inn, Ming Feizhen recounted how he got acquainted with Feng Jiutian. “If you have some sort of grudge with Brother Shanshan, please keep me out of it. At most, we are only two individuals who’ve shared a few meals together.”

Because Ling Jialan confronted Ming Feizhen at the entrance to the imperial palace before he even met Feng Jiutian and because of her willingness to help the latter, Ming Feizhen reasoned that she wanted him to assist her in getting revenge on Feng Jiutian.

“There is no enmity between Brother Feng and I. As a matter of fact, I agreed to help him apprehend the burglar because I have a request for him.”

Given Feng Jiutian’s network, more people would’ve had requests for him than otherwise. Ming Feizhen initially didn’t want to sign on to the job; however, he reasoned that it would’ve been more troublesome to find Elise on his own, not to mention that Feng Jiutian might’ve harmed her if he refused.

“So, may I ask what I can help you with, Miss Ling?”

“You don’t need to know that much. I’ll let you know when the time is right. All you need to do is cooperate with me.”

Ling Jialan was ready for Ming Feizhen to slam the table and get in her face at that point as practically every martial artist she ever insulted reacted that way.

“Sure,” replied Ming Feizhen, smiling.

Little did Ling Jialan know that Ming Feizhen thought, I’d agree to ten requests if I can just eat without doing anything. Ling Jialan thought Ming Feizhen saw through her deliberate provocation. For as long as she had been in the pugilistic world, she had been paired up with companions she looked down on, which eventually resulted in them being a burden or internal conflict. She typically had to drop her ally on their back for them to know their place. She thought Ming Feizhen wasn’t someone she could count on, but he was surprisingly tolerant. She never actually wanted to make his life difficult since they had no bad blood between them. Unfortunately for him, he was a disciple of Mount Daluo.

Mount Daluo was considered a sacred place for any martial artist. Therefore, harbouring a desire to fight them was normal. For all Ling Jialan knew at that point, Ming Feizhen might’ve been an even more worthy opponent than Feng Qizhi, hence the provocation. As a descendant of Mount Daluo Sword Sanctuary, she knew more than martial artists from other clans on classic information.

Had it not been for Lian Zhuiyue’s activity, Mount Daluo would’ve been a borderline mythical existence. Prominent clans, however, knew more than average folks, such as fight results that weren’t widespread, such as how incredible Hero Shenzhou was, such as Night Fortress being Mount Daluo’s Jiangnan branch. Growing up on a variety of martial arts stories, Ling Jialan was always eager to duke it out with a disciple of Mount Daluo. As for the negative reputation Mount Daluo had for the twenty-plus years that had basically turned them into a profane term itself, the younger generation weren’t aware of it.

Aside from talking about capturing the thief, Ming Feizhen didn’t show any interest in weapons or martial arts. He treated everything besides talking about food as if they were a waste of his breath. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was privy to stories about martial arts, he would’ve been considered a non-martial artist.

Ling Jialan had never dealt with a lazy man who had no respect for the world and carried himself with no care for mannerisms. He displayed no traits that suggested he was a disciple of Mount Daluo, so she suspected he might’ve been someone who hid his true nature and skills well.

“Miss Ling, there is one thing worth mentioning,” Ming Feizhen suddenly said in a serious tone.

Hiding her excitement at the prospect of Ming Feizhen finally showing his “true” self, Ling Jialan queried, “Which is?”

“Did you bring money?”

“Yes.”

“Loan me some.”

“How much?”

“Twenty tales, thank you.”

Ling Jialan watched Ming Feizhen walk off with her pouch of money that was now less twenty taels, unaware that the money had vanished from her life forever. For some reason, though, she instinctively raised her voice. “Stop.”

Ming Feizhen turned around to meet a maiden with a determined gaze and sword in her hand. Although there was uncertainty in her eyes, it didn’t impact her attack speed or ability.

“You’re Mount Daluo’s Patriarch Ming’s disciple?”

“You are not going to ask me for proof, are you?”

“I can tell.”

As a gust of wind rose, Ling Jialan flitted across and stopped the tip of her side right at Ming Feizhen’s jugular. The third layer of Flying Thrust, used well, would’ve been enough to pierce through a boulder, so it was overkill to use on someone one met for the first time. That went to show how much respect she had for Mount Daluo. Regrettably, the outcome left her depressingly disappointed.

Ling Jialan performed the thrust the same as always, seizing victory before her opponent could react. She predicted numerous counters and purposely left a generous amount of room for Ming Feizhen to counter. As long as he was truly elite, he would’ve been able to react and defend himself. Seeing as he failed to, her test determined that he wasn’t impressive.

After a long silence in front of the customers, Ling Jialan sheathed her sword, but her anger and disappointment remained on her visage.

“Keep your wits about you tomorrow. Don’t get in my way.” Ling Jialan left without waiting for a response.

Ming Feizhen stayed in his spot for a while before folding his arms and mumbling, “Is she on her period? What’s with the feisty attitude? Man, respect to these affluent families, working even when you’re on your period. No wonder why you’re all rich. Respect. Time to go home and sleep.”

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