Quickly conquer the martial arts world, and let your fists dominate the heavens!

Chen Zhan drew his gun, and a spray of blood appeared on the ground. Wang Wu was the leader of the Four Mountains, and his kung fu was far superior to Xue Jiuzhong's. Even if Cheng Tinghua fought him one-on-one, he could defeat him.

Of course, things might be different if a few soldiers were added to the siege.

He stood still and looked around.

The woods fell silent. Moonlight filtered through the branches and leaves, illuminating the corpses scattered on the ground. The stench of blood was carried everywhere by the night wind.

Forty or fifty guards from Prince Yi's mansion, along with Xue Jiuzhong, one of the Four Great Masters of the Capital, all died in this forest.

Chen Zhan stood leaning on his wooden spear for a moment, then looked up at the moon.

The moon hung on the treetops, round and bright, the same moon I saw in Cangxian County a few days ago.

He rubbed the gun barrel on the grass to wipe away most of the blood, then turned and walked towards the campsite.

The light of the campfire flickered in the distance, and several figures could be vaguely seen sitting around the fire.

He went back.

Zhao Qi was the first to see him emerge from the darkness. He stood up and took two steps to greet him. By the firelight, he saw that Chen Zhan was splattered with blood, and his expression changed.

"Chief镖师, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, it's been taken care of."

Chen Zhan leaned the wooden gun against the tree trunk, walked to the campfire, sat down, picked up the water bag, and took a couple of sips.

Zhao Qi looked at the bloodstains on his body, opened his mouth, and then swallowed his words.

Li Hanzhang huddled under the tree roots, wrapped in a thin blanket. His eyes darted around in the firelight as he looked at the bloodstains on Chen Zhan's body. His face was pale, his mouth was tightly shut, and he didn't dare to utter a sound.

He had secretly followed them and witnessed Chen Zhan fighting fifty men single-handedly in the darkness, the leader of whom, wielding a giant iron spear, was Xue Jiuzhong, one of the Four Mountains of the Capital.
However, Xue Jiuzhong died in Chen Zhan's hands in less than twenty or thirty moves.

Night had fallen, and the campfire was burning brightly, the firewood crackling and popping.

The Qing soldiers died some distance from where everyone was camping, but the strong smell of blood would soon attract wild animals. There was a campfire here and fresh meat there, and the wild animals knew which to choose.

Before long, a low howl came from afar, one or two howls, then one after another.

Wolf.

After the howl came the sound of tearing and biting, a dull, wet sound mixed with the crisp sound of bones being gnawed, coming continuously from the depths of the forest.

The faces of the men turned pale, and they huddled around the campfire, wishing they could bury themselves in the flames.

Li Hanzhang was wrapped in a thin blanket, his ears were perked up, and he would shiver every time he heard a howl. His eyes darted around and shone frighteningly in the firelight.

Zhao Qi remained calm, gripping the hilt of his knife, leaning against the carriage, and glancing occasionally toward the woods.

Everyone looked at Chen Zhan.

Chen Zhan leaned against the tree trunk, motionless, his eyes closed, his breathing even and deep, just like when he was asleep.

The distant howls and tearing sounds of wolves seemed to have no effect on him.

Seeing that he didn't care, everyone could only whisper a few words, find a spot by the campfire, and reluctantly close their eyes.

The night passed quickly.

Early morning had just arrived, before the sky had even begun to lighten, when Chen Zhan woke up and woke everyone to set off immediately.

No one dawdled; they packed their luggage, harnessed the horses, tied up the carts, extinguished the fire, and covered up the traces of the fire—all within a quarter of an hour. The group then set off on the official road under the morning mist.

In one day, we crossed the Shandong border.

In two days, we crossed Weishan Lake and entered the Huaibei region.

It's very close to Suzhou.

The group looked much more relaxed. The days of travel and the dangers along the way had put everyone on edge. Now that they were more than a thousand miles from the capital, even if someone wanted to harm them, it would be too late.

Zhao Qi, riding on his horse, rarely showed a smile as he chatted with Zhang Kai about what to eat and drink after arriving in Suzhou.

Li Hanzhang was even more agile, racing against Wang Xiaochuan to see whose horse was faster. The two horses chased each other on the official road, kicking up a trail of dust.

Only Chen Zhan remained vigilant, his divine sense not withdrawn, spreading out and covering a radius of a hundred paces around him.

He found it hard to believe that Prince Yi would give up so easily.

However, considering the time involved, news traveled quite slowly in those days. It would take at least four or five days for the news of Xue Jiuzhong's death to reach Prince Yi's mansion in the capital from Shandong. Then, it would take another four or five days for the mansion to react and send people to hunt him down. In total, it would take about ten days for them to arrive in Suzhou.

Perhaps he was overthinking it.

Upon entering Huaibei City, we found an inn to stay at.

The inn was much better than the rest stops and small shops we had stayed at along the way; it was clean and bright, and the food was authentic.

The group occupied three tables: two for the bodyguards and porters, and one for Xu Zhiyuan's family.

Before each dish on the family table was served, Zhao Qi personally inspected it, smelling it and checking its color to ensure there were no problems.

This is a rule for镖师 (bodyguards/couriers) who travel by镖局 (bodyguards/couriers), to

There weren't many people in the restaurant. Besides their three tables, there were two other tables in the corner. One table had two traveling merchants doing small business, and the other table had a middle-aged man drinking alone. The whole restaurant was quite deserted.

The cuisine in Huaibei is not much different from that in Shandong. Compared to the light flavors of Huainan, Huaibei cuisine is more suited to the tastes of northerners, with heavy oil and salt, generous use of ingredients, and large portions.

A plate of braised pork belly, stewed until tender and juicy, with a perfect balance of lean and fat, glistening with oil, is served alongside a large bowl of braised gluten and a plate of smashed cucumber with minced garlic—all dishes that hard-working runners love to eat.

Chen Zhan ate a few bites and then put down his chopsticks.

He sat near the door, facing the canteen entrance, his gaze occasionally sweeping across the street in front of the door.

"Chief镖头, is this not to your liking?" Zhao Qi asked, bringing his bowl closer.

"No, this dish isn't bad."

"So you have some concerns? We'll arrive in Suzhou tomorrow, and this escort mission will be over."

"Well, it's best if nothing happens."

Chen Zhan didn't eat, but the others ate heartily. As members of the escort agency, they were used to eating out in all kinds of weather. When they entered the city, they had to eat something good. Once they left the city, they could only eat flatbread and drink water. Since they rarely entered the city, they naturally had to eat to their heart's content.

Zhang Yilian added two bowls of rice, Zhang Kai ate three steamed buns, Wang Xiaochuan buried his head in his rice and ate it at a speed that was like a wind-up toy, and Li Hanzhang was even more exaggerated, eating more than half a plate of braised pork, his mouth shiny with oil.

However, everyone tacitly refrained from drinking.

Drinking is prohibited on the escort missions; this is a strict rule in the escort agency business. Violation will result in a fine, and serious offenses will lead to expulsion.

While waiting for the others to finish eating, several people suddenly rushed in through the entrance of the dining hall.

Three beggars.

He stumbled and crawled into the room, his clothes tattered and patched upon patched, his exposed arms and calves covered in red marks and bruises, his hair greasy and tangled, his face mottled with black and gray patches, looking utterly wretched.

Two men followed behind him, each holding a thick wooden stick, cursing under their breath.

"You're here to freeload again! Don't you even know where you are? Qingfeng Restaurant won't tolerate you!" The two men wielded sticks and whipped the beggars. The sticks swung with great force, making dull "crack" sounds as they hit the beggars. The three beggars covered their heads and huddled together, retreating and wailing for mercy.

The manager of Jiufenglou came out from behind the counter, his chubby, round face full of displeasure, and stood in front of the two men who were beating him.

"We don't care if you want to discipline a beggar, but don't do it inside our Jiufeng Restaurant. If you break anything, you'll have to pay for it."

The two men who started the fight were servants of the restaurant owner across the street. They were strong and dressed in tight-fitting clothes, and they didn't look like people to be trifled with. After hearing what the Jiufeng Restaurant owner said, they didn't back down at all, pushed the owner aside, and continued to fight.

The stick came down, and the three beggars tumbled and crawled on the ground, dodging the stick and running around the dining hall.

Chen Zhan held his teacup, watching this scene without saying a word.

The three beggars' movements in dodging the sticks were very clever.

Instead of running towards the door, they retreated into the dining hall, each roll landing closer to the table where the Xu family members were sitting.

This approach appears to be completely unconscious; when someone is being beaten, they panic and run into crowded places. It's a beggar's instinctive reaction when being attacked, and it won't alert anyone.

The three of them rolled around on the ground seven or eight times and ended up next to Sun Yuanhong's table.

The leading beggar looked up, his face covered in dust and tears, and saw Sun Yuanhong sitting at the table, wearing a plain dark blue jacket. Although it wasn't fancy, the material was top-quality Songjiang cotton, with embroidered patterns on the cuffs and collar, and a jade bracelet on her wrist. She looked like the mistress of a wealthy family.

He scrambled to Sun Yuanhong's side, knelt on the ground, clasped his hands together, and pleaded with his face full of apologies.

"Ladies, please, give us some silver. We were so hungry that we ate at the restaurant across the street. We're afraid we'll be beaten to death today."

The other two beggars crawled over, knelt on the ground and kowtowed repeatedly. Their tattered clothes revealed large patches of flesh covered in red marks and whip marks, making them look truly pitiful.

Sun Yuanhong reacted extremely quickly.

Her face darkened, and her voice turned cold: "Get lost, don't get in my way."

As she spoke, she pulled the boy next to her behind her and shielded him in front of her, while using her other hand to hold down the bowls and chopsticks on the table to prevent them from being knocked over.

As the principal wife of a wealthy family, she had seen a lot and had encountered beggars coming to her door asking for rewards countless times. She knew clearly what should and shouldn't be given, and who was pitiful and who wasn't.

When traveling with children and concubines, if a beggar of unknown origin approaches, the first reaction is to push him away.

But Zhao, who was sitting next to her, did not have this awareness.

Zhao was Xu Zhiyuan's second concubine. She was in her thirties, with a fair complexion and a gentle nature. When she saw the whip marks and swollen foreheads on the three beggars, she couldn't bear it.

"Alas, such is the world."

As she sighed, she reached into her sleeve to take out some silver, intending to give it to the three beggars.

Sun Yuanhong frowned, wanting to stop her, but before she could reach out, Zhao Shi had already taken out a tael of silver from her sleeve and handed it over.

"That should be enough, right?"

"That's enough, that's enough. Thank you, ladies. Thank you all."

The lead beggar looked grateful, stretching out both hands to receive the silver. His fingers were withered, his fingernails filled with dirt, and his tattered sleeves drooped down as he reached out, covering half of his palms.

The moment his fingers touched the broken silver, a glint of light flashed in his eyes.

A cold glint shot out from beneath his sleeve.

A dagger sprang out from the tattered sleeve. The blade was extremely narrow and thin, a concealed weapon specifically designed for assassination, completely hidden within the wide sleeve.

The dagger's cold gleam pierced Zhao's throat.

His movements were incredibly swift; from reaching out to catch the silver to the dagger flashing out, there was no pause in between—it was all done in one fluid motion.

Zhao's eyes were still fixed on the image of "handing out the silver," but a cold wind was already blowing against her throat, and the blade of the dagger was less than three inches from her neck.

She didn't have time to dodge.

Her body hadn't had time to react; her mind was completely blank.

Sun Yuanhong, who was standing nearby, noticed this. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as if she wanted to scream, but the sound was still stuck in her throat when the dagger was already in front of Zhao's neck.

Then came a crisp sound.

"bite."

Like flicking a finger across a bronze vessel—crisp, short, and clean.

The dagger shattered.

From the tip to the hilt, the dagger shattered into four or five pieces in front of Zhao's neck. The fragments spun in the air and landed on the table and the ground with a "clinking" sound, bouncing a few times before rolling to the edge of the table.

The lead beggar was stunned.

His hand remained in the thrusting position, his fingers empty; the dagger was gone, only fragments of the hilt remained between his fingers.

He didn't see anyone make a move.

I saw no fists, no hands, and no weapons.

The dagger shattered as if crushed in the middle by an invisible force.

What kind of hidden weapon is this?
With a gurgling sound, a date pit broke into several pieces and rolled on the ground.

"This"

At the same time, the other two beggars also moved.

They stopped pretending and almost simultaneously drew short knives from their sleeves, launching a sudden attack. One lunged at another concubine, while the other charged at the two children of the Xu family.

The sound of the short sword being drawn was sharp and piercing; the blade flashed in the light of the oil lamp, and two cold lights shone simultaneously.

Two shadows flashed by.

It wasn't the shadow of a beggar, it was Chen Zhan's.

No one present saw him get up from the table a dozen steps away.

Zhao Qi only felt a blur before his eyes, and Chen Zhan's seat was empty. When he looked again, Chen Zhan was already standing next to the Xu family's table.

Two beggars suddenly jumped up. One of them was slapped on the chest by Chen Zhan's left hand, and flew off the ground, covering most of the length of the canteen. He flew out of the door, landed on the stone steps outside the canteen, bounced once, rolled onto the street, and lay there motionless.

Another man had his wrist grabbed by Chen Zhan's right hand, his wrist twisted, and the dagger slipped from his hand. Immediately afterward, Chen Zhan released his wrist and slapped him on the back, sending him flying.

He flew out of the canteen from the other side of the entrance, crashed into the wall across the street with a dull thud, knocked off a piece of the wall, and slid down to the ground.

Two people, in two different directions, flew out of the dining hall at the same time. From the moment they made their move to the moment they flew out, it was only a breath.

The canteen fell silent for a moment.

The manager of Jiufenglou stood there with his mouth agape, the rag in his hand falling to the ground. The two servants with sticks were also stunned, their sticks raised in mid-air, forgetting to put them down.

The middle-aged man drinking in the corner stopped at his lips, half of the wine spilling out.

The lead beggar was still kneeling on the ground, a shard of a broken knife handle between his fingers, frozen in place. (End of Chapter)