Chapter Thirty-One: Arrival at Greenstone Town

The cold moonlight slowly poured down from the sky, and the stars twinkled, casting a mysterious aura over the entire forest.

Inside an unknown cave, a young man gritted his teeth, pain flickering across his face as cold sweat dripped from his forehead.

Each time the translucent old man’s whip struck his back, the boy convulsed. The old man was hitting harder than before—Lu Han could barely endure it.

He dispersed his Heavenly Garment technique, feeling the searing pain across his back and arms. Picking up the Biluo Sword resting across his knees, he said urgently, “Master, let’s go down the mountain tomorrow.” He’d already stayed here for twenty days. Although the old man had tricked the mercenaries away, he couldn’t hide here forever.

“Han, are you sure? I can guarantee there are people waiting for you on the road,” the old man chuckled.

“There’s nothing I can do; time is running out. Honestly, if you intervened, none of them would last a round, but you refuse to help.” Lu Han spread his hands helplessly.

Thump!

Another knock on his head.

“If I do everything for you, when will you ever stand on your own? If I’m gone one day, will you just wait for death?” the old man scolded.

Lu Han was left speechless.

“Master, I understand now. You’re doing this to help me grow in wisdom and experience.” Lu Han clenched his fist.

The old man gazed at him, his eyes full of comfort and admiration. “Good. You truly are my disciple.”

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the branches, sprinkling countless tiny spots of light across the woods.

The boy headed down the mountain—not striding openly along the road, but quietly making his way through the shrubs beside it.

“So there are people after all,” he thought, seeing three or five men resting at a fork ahead. Each bore the character ‘Iron’ embroidered on their backs—they were from the Iron Mad Mercenary Corps, now renamed Iron Tiger Mercenary Corps.

“Hey, why are we so unlucky, assigned here? Haven’t seen that kid for twenty days. Maybe he’s been eaten by beasts already. My mouth’s gone dry from boredom,” one complained.

“Yeah, I keep thinking about Little Peach Blossom from Drunken Fragrance Pavilion,” another said, eyes dreamy.

“Third, you’ll die under a woman’s spell someday,” someone teased, and the group burst out laughing.

“I’ll go relieve myself,” the one called Third walked off into the distant shrubs.

Behind a large tree, he was just about to...

Snap!

His world went black, and he lost consciousness forever.

Lu Han dragged him deeper in and changed into Third’s clothes.

Head lowered, Lu Han slowly approached the other mercenaries.

“Third, you took so long. Can’t handle it anymore?” one joked as “Third” returned.

As he drew near, a cold light flashed in Lu Han’s eyes. A long sword appeared in his hand, stabbing toward the man. His other hand, glowing with white frost, struck the one beside him as he silently invoked the Starbreaking Palm.

Neither had time to understand why “Third” suddenly turned on them; both collapsed, never to rise again.

In just a few seconds, the other two failed to react.

Lu Han raised his head, startling them.

“It’s you—Lu Han! You’re still alive?”

Whoosh…

One, realizing the danger, bolted.

“Hang in there, brother, I’ll get help!” he shouted as he ran. Even Lu Han didn’t notice that, as the man fled, a sapphire-blue ring followed him…

Lu Han looked after the runner.

“He actually ran. I must’ve overestimated them!” Lu Han thought. After ten years of camaraderie, how could anyone abandon a companion at such a crucial moment?

The remaining man, seeing his comrade flee, frantically reached into his chest.

“A signal flare? As if I’d give you that chance,” Lu Han flicked his Biluo Sword and stabbed.

The man barely had time to grab his knife and block, but being only at the seventh level of Post-Heaven, he was sent flying in one stroke.

A chill swept through his hand.

Lu Han stepped on a nearby ancient tree, accelerating.

Thud.

He spun his sword in midair.

Landing, the man looked at Lu Han, then clutched his throat as blood gushed forth, slowly collapsing.

“That’s the power of advanced cultivation techniques and martial skills!” Lu Han clenched his fist.

Previously, he could barely defeat someone at seventh level of Post-Heaven; this time, even though it was a sneak attack, he faced five peers—only one escaped.

“Han, I’ve already learned what’s happening in Bluestone Town. Let’s go,” the old man appeared from nowhere.

“You’ve found out? From whom?” Lu Han asked, puzzled.

“From the guy who just ran—he’s sleeping over there now,” the old man gestured ahead.

Lu Han sheathed the Biluo Sword across his back and continued down the mountain.

Leaving the woods, he looked up at the blazing sun.

“The sunlight is fierce! Zheng Qi, weren’t you looking for me? I’ve come to find you myself,” Lu Han muttered.

It was Zheng Qi who had forced him to hide in Cloud Crystal Mountain. Now, he was going to the Iron Tiger Mercenary Corps to find him.

Face two hundred mercenaries head-on? Lu Han was not so foolish; he had his own plans.

He arrived at Bluestone Town. Smaller than Maple Leaf City, yet still bustling.

Crowded in the small town, Lu Han inhaled deeply. The heat was welcome—after a month in Cloud Crystal Mountain, he was nearly a beast himself.

After turning several streets, he spotted a clothing shop and hurried inside.

“Oh! Is it an honored guest from the Iron Tiger Mercenary Corps? Please, please come in!” The shopkeeper recognized the uniform—now that the two corps had merged, they were the town’s dominant force. No one dared offend them.

Lu Han said nothing to contradict him.

“Shopkeeper, pick out a few clothes that fit me.” His own were tattered, and he didn’t want to keep wearing them, so he had to buy some new ones.

Soon, Lu Han changed and emerged in a fresh white robe. Compared to before, his brows held a new determination.

“No need for change.” He took out ten gold coins and handed them over. Using a bundle was a necessary precaution; he understood the principle of not revealing one’s wealth, so he kept his storage ring in his chest, carrying the bundle on his back.

“Thank you, sir. Sir, what about your corps uniform…” the shopkeeper asked, puzzled. For the Iron Tiger Mercenary Corps, the uniform was a symbol, a source of pride—how could he just leave it behind?

“I don’t need it.” Lu Han waved dismissively.

“Master, didn’t you say you’d learned everything here? Which way?” Lu Han asked quietly.

“Turn left, head to the trading street, and sell what you just took,” the old man instructed.

“Trading street?”

“Let’s talk as we walk.”

Soon, Lu Han appeared on the trading street.

“There are so many people here,” he observed, watching the bustling crowd.

“This is the safest place in Bluestone Town,” the old man replied.

“Didn’t expect to sell everything so quickly.” Lu Han looked at his now-empty bundle; he’d sat down for a moment, and everything was gone.

These were the items the mercenaries had intended to use to curry favor with the new leader, Zheng Qi—Lu Han had benefited instead.

“Master, now let’s go find Zheng Qi,” Lu Han stretched.

“Han, wait. Go to the stall on your right—buy the gray book page, first row, second item.”

Lu Han was puzzled, but it was the first time he’d seen the old man so eager.

“Brother, I want everything in the second row—name your price.” Lu Han approached the middle-aged stall owner.

The man was stunned, thinking Lu Han must be joking.

“Brother, name your price.”

“Since you’re so generous, fifty gold coins, and it’s yours.”

“What is this?” Lu Han picked up the gray page, trying to appear indifferent.

“Oh, actually, I’m not sure. My ancestors found it somewhere, I suppose. If you like it, you can have it. It’s been here so long, no one’s ever asked about it.”

...

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