Chapter Fifty-Seven: Reunion with an Old Friend

Among the five figures, the one in the center was a young man dressed in a golden robe, his handsome features as sharply chiseled as if carved from stone, exuding an air of innate authority in every gesture. He was none other than the Fourth Prince of the Wang Clan from East Ridge—Wang Hong.

Wang Hong approached, stopping a short distance before Qin Yi and his companions, gazing down at them from above. Yet he said nothing, nor did he look toward his so-called old friend Jiang Yao. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on Qin Yi, unwavering and persistent, as if he would never tire of looking.

The sight made both Zhang Chen and the old man in the bamboo hat shiver involuntarily. They thought to themselves, it makes sense for him to stare at Jiang Yao, but what business does a man have staring so intently at another man? Could it be that he’s one of those sorts…?

After a long silence, Wang Hong finally spoke, his tone slow and deliberate. “I didn’t expect we would meet again.”

Qin Yi heard this and felt a torrent of emotions surge within him, yet outwardly he feigned surprise and said, “Oh? You know me? Have we met before?”

Wang Hong’s brow knit at Qin Yi’s response, but he soon relaxed and smiled. Then, shifting his gaze to Jiang Yao—more precisely, to the little white creature in her arms—he said, “Today, I must take it with me.”

The little white creature shrank further into Jiang Yao’s embrace, intimidated by Wang Hong’s chilling gaze.

Jiang Yao gently stroked the terrified little creature until it gradually relaxed in her arms. Only then did she raise her head, her eyes now cold and sharp as she fixed her gaze on Wang Hong. “Then come and try if you dare.”

She had no idea why the little white creature had been attacked by two strange people today, nor why it now attracted the attention of the illustrious Wang Clan of East Ridge. But the creature belonged to her—if anyone wished to take it, they would have to go through her first.

Wang Hong seemed unfazed, lazily waving his hand. “Fourth Elder, Fifth Elder.”

Among the five, one was Wang Yongping, Fourth Elder of the Wang Clan, and another was Wang Weixue, who had previously crossed swords with Qin Yi’s group at Dragonfish Fortress. Of the remaining two, Qin Yi recognized one—a familiar face from their encounter at the South Sea—Qian Hongfu.

“Father,” Qian Hongfu called, moving to help Qian Jiashun to his feet.

The last of the five, whom Qin Yi did not know, was a middle-aged man who bore a striking resemblance to Qian Jiashun, both in form and spirit. He looked at Qian Jiashun and asked, “Fifth Brother, where is Father?”

Qian Jiashun shook his head. “Jiaqing, Father is dead.”

At these words, Qian Jiaqing seemed to freeze. His eyes darkened as he asked, “Who killed him?”

Without turning around, Qian Jiashun pointed unerringly toward Qin Yi, as if he could sense direction with his eyes closed. “Father was already dead when I arrived, so I do not know. All I know is that Father’s belongings are in his hands.”

Upon hearing this, Qian Jiaqing’s eyes reddened as he glared at Qin Yi.

He had to admit, Qian Zhouliang had been merciless to his sons, forcing them to fight each other to select a worthy heir. He himself had become the greatest victim of all. Yet, he also had to concede that Qian Zhouliang’s actions were devoid of selfishness—everything had been for the sake of the Qian family.

Wang Yongping addressed Jiang Yao in a flat, undeniable tone. “No matter who you are—Jiang Yao or otherwise—I advise you to hand over the little white rabbit. Otherwise, the Wang Clan of East Ridge will show no mercy.”

Jiang Yao replied coldly, “The Wang Clan of East Ridge is certainly overbearing, robbing people in broad daylight.”

Wang Hong merely chuckled. “Jiang Yao, we’re old acquaintances. You know such words are useless against me.”

Wang Weixue grinned at Qin Yi. “Let’s see how arrogant you can be this time, boy.”

Qin Yi replied with a sardonic smile, “You old men are truly shameless.”

Wang Weixue returned the sneer. “Ah, but that’s because I take you seriously as an opponent. Only then would I bother to act myself.”

Qin Yi rolled his eyes. Well, it seemed he had finally met someone as brazen as himself—there would be no avoiding a hard battle today. Still, his thoughts lingered on the old man in the bamboo hat behind them. They knew nothing about this man’s background; if they fought the Wang Clan here, how could they guard against him?

One must not harbor ill intent toward others, but one must always guard against harm.

Zhang Chen asked anxiously, “What do we do? They have the numbers.”

Qin Yi glanced at Zhang Chen’s worried face, then at Jiang Yao, who remained calm as ever, before finally turning to the old man in the bamboo hat behind them with a smile. “Elder, do you intend to stand by and watch us die?”

Wang Hong, observing this exchange, felt his eyes gleam with intrigue.

He had been paying close attention to this old man from the moment he arrived, trying to discern his aura or movements, to judge his strength. To his disquiet, he had failed every time.

The old man revealed a mouthful of large, yellow teeth that gleamed as if unwashed for years, his smile tinged with mischief. “Boy, I have no connection to you. Why should I help you?”

Qin Yi grinned impishly. “Is it not said, ‘When you see injustice on the road, draw your sword to help’?”

The old man hugged his battered black oil-paper umbrella, squinted, and shook his head, giving Qin Yi a reply that rendered him speechless. “They’re not worth it.”

Qin Yi was at a loss for words, but he needed to be sure this old man meant them no harm—or was simply an ordinary person incapable of causing harm. Still putting on a thick-skinned grin, he persisted. “Elder, why not teach me a few moves? My constitution is that of the Supreme Dao Embryo—surely I could pick up your skills in battle.”

The old man opened one eye, regarding him with undisguised disdain—a look so scornful it made Qin Yi’s skin crawl. But the old man was not interested; closing his eye, he looked toward Jiang Yao instead and smiled. “Teaching the Innate Sword Embryo—I might consider. As for you? Absolutely not. Don’t bother me.”

Qin Yi nearly spat blood in indignation, but was also surprised.

Jiang Yao, too, was left speechless. She hadn’t expected this old man to recognize her constitution so quickly.

Had she known the old man had long since discerned it, and was only speaking now, she would have been even more unsettled.

Yet, despite her surprise, Jiang Yao was no stranger to extraordinary events. She quickly regained her composure, then smiled at the old man. “Elder, do you wish to teach me?”

The old man’s eyes brightened at the prospect, and he nodded eagerly. “How about becoming my disciple?”

Jiang Yao hesitated. “I already have a master.”

The old man looked disappointed, but quickly compromised. “Then how about learning swordsmanship from me?”

In the martial world, there is a taboo: one can only ever have one master in a lifetime. Many may teach you skills, but a master is irreplaceable.

“If the elder is willing to instruct, I would be honored,” Jiang Yao agreed with a smile. Then, casting a sly, fox-like glance at Qin Yi and the old man, she added, “But if you wish to teach me swordsmanship, you must teach him as well.”

At this, the old man shot Qin Yi a look of pure disdain—so scathing it made harsh words pale by comparison.

Qin Yi’s face flushed with embarrassment and fury under the old man’s gaze.

Zhang Chen, watching the scene, could only be amused. Ever since Qin Yi had started spending time with Senior Sister Jiang Yao, Zhang Chen had never laughed as much as today. He found himself liking the old man in the bamboo hat more and more, if only because he managed to put Qin Yi—who had always flaunted his affection in front of him—in his place.

After a long moment, the old man’s gaze grew distant, his tone laced with mockery. “Teaching you isn’t out of the question. Your aptitude is tens of thousands of leagues inferior to this girl’s…” He glanced at Zhang Chen, who was still grinning broadly. “But compared to this one, you’re tens of thousands of leagues ahead.”

Zhang Chen’s smile froze, and he cast a disdainful look at the old man, saying proudly, “You have no taste.”

Qin Yi could no longer contain himself. In all his lives, he had never been so disparaged. He snorted, “Hmph! Such poor judgment—clearly you have no real skill. I won’t learn from you.”

The old man immediately turned to Jiang Yao, grinning. “See, little girl? It’s not that I refuse to teach him—he doesn’t want to learn.”

Jiang Yao rolled her eyes at him, seeing through his ploy. The old man quickly fell silent, but Jiang Yao comforted Qin Yi, “For the sake of resolving our current predicament, you might as well give it a try.”

With her reassurance, Qin Yi finally acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. “For Jiang Yao’s sake, I’ll deign to learn.”

“Oh?” The old man, realizing he’d been outmaneuvered, could only make a sound of surprise, but before he could say more—

“Enough,” Jiang Yao cut him off sharply.

He was left speechless, utterly helpless, and shook his head in resignation. Who would have thought that after a lifetime of pride, he’d be brought to heel by a young woman?

“Hey, have you finished your little chat?” Wang Yongping’s impatient voice called from behind.

Both the old man and Qin Yi, still annoyed from their conversation, turned and shouted in unison, “Shut up!”