Martial Arts Crossover: My master tricked Huang Rong into becoming my wife!

Time flies, white horses pass by.

Six years have passed in the blink of an eye.

On the main road in Zhangjiakou, a man and a dog strolled leisurely in the golden sunset.

The young man walking in front was about eighteen or nineteen years old, with sword-like eyebrows and bright eyes, and a tall and straight figure. Although he was wearing a coarse linen outfit full of patches, carrying a bright green bamboo stick on his shoulder, and a large red lacquered gourd hanging from his waist, he did not have the slightest air of being down on his luck. On the contrary, he exuded a leisurely and unrestrained noble air.

A large black dog, about half a person's height, followed at his feet. Its fur was glossy like satin, and its four paws were snow-white. It walked with its head held high and its eyes looking down on people, displaying a rather arrogant air.

The young man was Chen Yanzhou, and the dog was naturally Wangcai.

"Wangcai, can you smell this? This is the real smell of mutton, just as good as the kind from Xiangyang." Chen Yanzhou sniffed and tapped the ground lightly with his dog-beating stick.

Wangcai barked in response, its tail wagging like a whirlwind.

Half a month ago, he secretly ran away from Xiangyang. He had been in Xiangyang for eighteen years, spending his time practicing martial arts and doing accounting. He was really bored.

This time, I came out for two reasons: first, to travel the world and broaden my horizons; and second, naturally, to meet heroes like Guo Jing. Otherwise, wouldn't it be a waste to have been reborn?

Zhangjiakou, a vital transportation hub connecting the north and south, was a bustling and prosperous center for the distribution of furs and leather goods.

Chen Yanzhou arrived at Changqinglou, the largest restaurant in the city, with ease.

Six years ago, if a beggar dared to venture into such a den of iniquity, the waiter would have chased him away with a broom long ago. But now, times have changed.

As soon as Chen Yanzhou stepped across the threshold, the waiter who was wiping the table lit up. Instead of chasing him away, he draped the rag over his shoulder and greeted him with a big smile.

"Hey, young master, please come in! There's a private room upstairs that's still available!"

The waiter was as respectful as if he had met the God of Wealth.

That's normal. Nowadays, the Beggars' Sect's "Yiyun Division" monopolizes 70% of the water and land transportation between the north and south. Which of the northern mutton and southern yellow wine in Changqing Tower doesn't rely on the Beggars' Sect brothers for transportation? In addition, the Beggars' Sect is responsible for protecting the trade routes. In this day and age, who in business dares to offend the Beggars' Sect?

If you offend the Beggars' Sect, no matter how much money you offer, no one will dare to take your goods. You can just wait for them to rot in the warehouse.

Chen Yanzhou casually tossed a piece of silver into the waiter's arms: "Cut two catties of good mutton, with a good balance of fat and lean, and a braised duck, and two jugs of good wine. Also, get my dog ​​brother a whole chicken, without salt."

"Alright! Please have a seat, I'll be right there!" The waiter took the money, grinning from ear to ear, and led Chen Yanzhou to a window seat on the second floor.

Chen Yanzhou sat down with an air of authority and slammed the dog-beating stick across the table.

Upon seeing this, diners at several nearby tables turned their gazes over, some whispering amongst themselves, others bowing in greeting, their eyes filled with awe.

Chen Yanzhou simply nodded in acknowledgment without saying anything more, and then poured himself a cup of tea.

In recent years, he has thoroughly integrated modern logistics management models into the Beggars' Gang, implementing "hierarchical management and performance evaluation," transforming the originally loose beggar organization into a vast business empire.

Although the Beggars' Sect disciples still wear tattered clothes, they stand tall and are respected wherever they go.

After all, who would turn down money?

Before long, the wine and meat were served.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 202ᴋᴋs.ᴄᴏᴍ]

Chen Yanzhou tore off a leg of lamb, took a bite, and his mouth was full of oil. The meat was tender and juicy with very little gamey smell; it was indeed a top-quality lamb.

He casually tossed the whole chicken to Wangcai, who was standing at his feet, and the two of them devoured it with gusto.

……

Meanwhile, at a wharf ten miles outside Zhangjiakou city.

The area is overgrown with reeds and rarely visited by people. Only a few water birds occasionally skim across the water, creating ripples.

On a crooked old willow tree, a dusty figure was hidden among the dense branches and leaves.

Hong Qigong lay sprawled on a tree branch, fast asleep, his snoring causing the leaves to rustle and fall.

In recent years, he has been wandering around the north, keeping an eye on the movements of the Jurchens while taking care of a few ignorant Iron Palm Gang scoundrels. He has been living a carefree life.

However, the northern border is bitterly cold, and the food is really mediocre, making his stomach rumble with hunger.

Suddenly, a strange fragrance drifted into his nostrils on the wind.

The aroma was extremely strong, unlike the strong, oily, and greasy smell of restaurants. Instead, it carried the fragrance of earth and the refreshing scent of lotus leaves, mixed with the ultimate deliciousness brought out by the chicken being simmered over a low flame.

"Um?"

Hong Qigong's snoring stopped abruptly, and his nose twitched twice.

The next moment, those old eyes, which had been sleepy, suddenly widened and shone brightly.

"It smells amazing! This aroma... is incredible!"

He sprang to his feet with a swift movement, swallowed hard, and scanned his surroundings with sharp eyes.

"Where would you find such divine delicacies in this desolate wilderness?"

Hong Qigong swayed and drifted down from the treetop like a falling leaf, following the scent and tiptoeing over.

After passing through a reed bed, a campfire that had just been extinguished was visible in the open space ahead, next to which was a ball of mud that had been burned hard and blackened.

That captivating aroma wafted from the cracks in this mud ball.

"Beggar's chicken?"

Hong Qigong's eyes lit up, he rubbed his hands together, and a childlike, greedy smile appeared on his face.

He circled the mud ball twice, then looked around warily; no one was there.

"Wow, this is a gift from nature. It would be a waste not to eat it."

Hong Qigong muttered something to himself and squatted down without any qualms.

He stretched out his large hand and gently patted the scalding hot mud ball.

"Click."

The mud shell cracked open, and a burst of intense heat shot out, the aroma so strong it was almost tangible, reaching straight to the top of the head.

Peel back the charred mud shell to reveal layers of tightly wrapped lotus leaves. As the lotus leaves are uncovered, a golden, glistening, tender, and fall-off-the-bone chicken is revealed.

"Gulp."

Hong Qigong swallowed hard.

"This cooking technique... is superb! It's even better than what that brat Yanzhou did!"

Although Chen Yanzhou's roast chicken was delicious, it was mostly due to the use of various strange and unusual seasonings to enhance the flavor.

The chicken in front of me, however, is made purely by the ultimate control of the heat, which locks in the natural freshness of the chicken meat. With the addition of the fragrance of lotus leaves, it is simply a return to simplicity.

"This skill, it would take decades of practice to achieve... wait, in this desolate wilderness, could it be some reclusive culinary master?"

The thought flashed through Hong Qigong's mind, but his hands didn't slow down at all.

"Who cares? Once it's in your stomach, it's yours."

He tore off a chicken leg, ignoring the heat, and took a bite.

The chicken skin was crispy, the meat was tender, and the juices burst in his mouth. The wonderful taste made Hong Qigong squint his eyes and let out a satisfied groan.

"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!"

"This chicken was even stuffed with shiitake mushrooms, shrimp, and cloves! No wonder it tastes so good!"

Hong Qigong ate faster and faster, using both hands to eat, his mouth greasy, even sucking on his fingers.

In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the whole chicken was reduced to just a pile of bones.

Hong Qigong licked his lips, still feeling unsatisfied, and let out a burp. He was just about to destroy the evidence and make a quick getaway.

Just then, a series of light footsteps came from the reeds.

The reeds were parted.

A small, thin beggar came out.

Although the little beggar's face was smeared with black ink, obscuring his true features, his eyes were exceptionally bright and mischievous. He held a large, emerald-green lotus leaf in his hands, filled with some clear water, clearly indicating that he had gone to fetch water.

The little beggar hummed an unknown tune as he walked briskly toward the fire, his eyes full of anticipation.

"This plump chicken took me a lot of effort to get, and it should be cooked just right..."

However, when the little beggar's gaze fell on the fire, he froze instantly.

With a flick of his wrist, he spilled water all over the ground from the lotus leaf in his hand.

Where the beggar's chicken used to be, now only a pile of broken mud shells and scattered chicken bones remain.

Beside this mess sat a ragged old beggar, looking at him innocently, clutching the last bone in his hand, his mouth greasy with a suspicious sheen.

The little beggar stared wide-eyed at the chicken bones on the ground, then looked at Hong Qigong.

That was a plump chicken she had carefully selected! That was a delicious roasting she had spent an hour preparing!

"ah--!!!"

A piercing scream shattered the tranquility of the dock.

The little beggar pointed at Hong Qigong, his finger trembling, his eyes instantly reddening, as if he had suffered a great injustice, his voice trembling with tears:

"My chicken! You...you old beggar! You owe me my chicken!"

Hong Qigong blushed, coughed awkwardly, quietly tossed the bone behind him, and said in a serious tone:

"Little child, you can't say that. An old beggar was passing by when he saw this chicken trapped in the mud, suffering from the raging fire. He couldn't bear it, so he used his supernatural powers to help it get out of the mud and send it to the stomach. It was all for its own good."

The little beggar was so angry at these shameless remarks that he almost fainted.

"You...you ate my chicken, and you claim it's for a ritual to help the dead find peace?"

The little beggar rolled up his sleeves, revealing a section of his pale forearm, and charged forward menacingly.

"Old beggar, if you don't give me an exact replica today, I... I'm not done with you!"

Seeing that the little beggar was small in stature but moved with light steps, clearly possessing martial arts skills, Hong Qigong couldn't help but become somewhat interested.