Chapter Seventeen: Your Goddess Is Someone Else’s Devoted Follower

One day later, outside Jingfu Temple.

“So lively,” Zhang Chengyi strode down the street with the gait of a dragon and tiger, drawing many sideways glances.

There was no helping it. He had raised his physique to the theoretical peak of this body, enhanced by internal power. By boosting his constitution and reflecting it in reality, his muscles and stature grew rapidly, a case of effect preceding cause.

To outsiders, he now appeared as a burly man just over 1.9 meters tall, clad in an odd crane-patterned cloak, walking with an aloof stride, his expression as if marveling at some novel curiosity.

How could he not attract attention?

For this very reason, he did not follow Su Xinghe into the temple to trade intelligence. Others could disguise themselves, using the art of concealment and transformation—skills that a polymath like Mr. Congbian would find effortless.

The problem was, a towering, muscular man with such a distinctive aura like him was conspicuous no matter what disguise he wore or how he dressed—like a firefly glowing brightly in the dark.

In short, disguise was impossible. No transformation, no alteration. Farewell.

“Master Zhang, Master Zhang,” Xue Muhua, trailing behind, wiped the sweat from his brow.

Among the Eight Friends of Hangu Pass, he was the most socially adept and emotionally intelligent. Though he shared his master’s temperament and was willing to protect him with his life, that did not mean he could withstand the curious and alien stares of others.

After all, he was a divine doctor, treated everywhere as a distinguished guest. Serving as a mere attendant was a first in his life.

Being the center of all eyes as a mere follower was a scene he had never even dreamed of.

Zhang Chengyi slowed his pace. “I told you not to follow. Why are you trailing me? Does anyone still pose a threat to me?”

The automatic defense of the Northern Darkness Divine Skill and his immunity to all poisons had already turned him into an unrivaled human shield. Standing there, no one in the world could break through his defense.

“Y-Yes.” Xue Muhua lowered his head briefly, then said, “If Master Zhang wishes to purchase anything, your servant is ready—”

“Divine Doctor Xue?” An unexpected voice interrupted their conversation.

Looking up, they saw an elderly man in a silkworm-silk long robe, his face flushed with health. His white hair and youthful features marked him as a master of inner power.

Xue Muhua did not respond but glanced at Zhang Chengyi.

The old man’s smile faded, his gaze sharpening. He now suspected that Divine Doctor Xue might be under the control of some bandit.

---

Zhang Chengyi paid no mind to the stranger, nodding to signal his attendant to interact while he went on into the street.

The food, drink, and entertainment were all authentically Song Dynasty—novel and intriguing for those unaccustomed.

“Old Lord Shan, what business brings you here?” Xue Muhua glanced briefly at his master, who was still some distance away, his tone less than friendly.

He had been ordered by his master to remain constantly by his side as a mobile wallet and porter; deserting his post was unthinkable.

Though he addressed the old man as “Old Lord Shan” out of courtesy, others feared this iron-faced judge known as Shan Zheng.

But he was not intimidated in the slightest. Many in the martial world sought to curry favor with him, and many flattering old men followed him around, calling him Divine Doctor.

The Shan family consisted of one father and five sons, with over two hundred disciples, renowned throughout the martial world—but that was about it.

No martial art, however advanced, could surpass his master’s. Not to mention his grandmaster and family head. His own personality was somewhat haughty and domineering, accustomed over the years to commanding martial lords with his medical skills. Clinging to a powerful patron had become instinctual.

Clinging to the mightiest patron under heaven, he would gladly show the utmost reverence.

He spoke cautiously, wary of provoking the other party and risking trouble for his master.

Shan Zheng was momentarily taken aback—why was this Divine Doctor so irritable? Had he done something wrong?

After some thought, he measured his words. “Divine Doctor Xue, it has been more than three years since we parted in Zhuozhou. Meeting again by chance, I would like to invite you for a meal. Will you honor me with your presence?”

?

Xue Muhua felt on the verge of losing his temper. Casting a sidelong glance at Zhang Chengyi, who still stood out like a crane among chickens and had not yet gone far, he decided to be direct. “I have matters to attend to. Until we meet again.”

Without even a gesture of courtesy, he pulled a long face and hurried after his master.

When he reached Zhang Chengyi, who was sampling snacks, his expression brightened. He pulled out money from his pouch, looking like a sycophant.

Shan Zheng stood behind, dumbfounded, staring blankly for a long moment before pinching the acupoint Si Bai on his face, fearing he had misseen.

“Father!”

Five overlapping voices sounded. Five young men with thick brows and similar faces pushed through the crowd to Shan Zheng’s side. The eldest, following his father’s gaze, asked in confusion, “Father, what is it?”

“Nothing, just…”

Shan Zheng hesitated. He was still a bit dazed. Could it be that the fearsome Iron-Faced Judge’s reputation no longer intimidated others?

---

Or was Xue Muhua hysterical?

Calling him Divine Doctor Xue was mere politeness—a facade everyone upheld. The Iron-Faced Judge was known for his hatred of evil and his commitment to justice, always stepping in to right wrongs.

The Four Great Villains and the infamous Xingxiu Sect were notorious, yet Shan Zheng had never been seen to punish them—he was, after all, somewhat aware of his own limits.

But to be so rudely dismissed by a mediocre junior martial artist stirred his anger after his brief shock. His voice turned cold. “Let’s go.”

---

Several hours later, inside an inn.

“Master Zhang, some days ago, the Beggars’ Sect’s deputy leader Ma Dayuan died at the hands of the Ma family’s secret choking grappling technique in Xinyang. Afterwards, his wife Kang Min secretly traveled to Weizhou, which led to Xu Chongxiao’s reappearance in the martial world.”

Su Xinghe relayed the information he had gathered clearly, then added, “Xu Chongxiao has recently sent several letters—to Mount Tai, Mount Taihang, Mount Tiantai…”

“Seems related to the recent upheavals within the Beggars’ Sect.”

“I know.” Zhang Chengyi was fully aware of the situation. “Wait a moment. I’ll go capture Xu Chongxiao, then we’ll pay a visit to that intriguing Monk Huiming.”

He had no intention of killing the vigorous and ambitious elder in his eighties outright. Capturing him as bait was far better.

If one could not stir the winds of the world, how could one make a name in the martial world and gather martial experts from all quarters?

Moreover, it might earn him a favor with Qiao Feng. After all, they were all heroes; perhaps they would find mutual respect.

Only, he seemed utterly unaware that, in Qiao Feng’s eyes, such a “favor” was utterly nonsensical.

Of course, perhaps he simply did not care.

To act chivalrously at will—how did that concern those he saved?

Su Xinghe exchanged glances with his eight disciples, all a bit unsure what their master’s true aim was. Yet none dared speak.

Such casualness bordered on detachment from the ideals of chivalry, veering toward wild recklessness.

But so what?