Martial Dao: I Can Enhance My Talents

Chapter 509: Chapter 505: Encountering an ’Acquaintance

At noon, Yun Qianyue changed into a pale cyan dress and, with her face veiled in purple silk, departed the sect’s mountain gate and headed for Qingxuan City.

Qingxuan City was located at the foot of Qingxuan Mountain. Using a Body Technique, she arrived in just a quarter of an hour.

The Qingxuan City branch of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion was situated in the most prosperous district in the eastern part of the city. It was a three-story wooden building with upturned eaves and ornate brackets. The two bronze lions flanking the entrance were polished to a brilliant shine, and guests streamed in and out without end.

The moment she stepped through the doors, a Maid approached to welcome her, apparently having been waiting for her.

"Miss Yun, this way, please. The Steward is already waiting in the Inner Hall."

The Maid led Yun Qianyue through a hall filled with various treasures and curios, then down a corridor to a private room deep within.

The door to the room was ajar, and the faint aroma of tea drifted out.

The Maid gently pushed the door open and stepped to the side.

Yun Qianyue stepped inside.

The room was elegantly furnished. There was a rosewood tea table with several plain white teacups, and in the corner, a bronze censer emitted curling wisps of fragrant smoke.

A young woman in a water-blue dress stood before the table, personally brewing tea.

The woman had a slender figure and a face of breathtaking beauty. Her skin was fairer than snow, and her features were as exquisite as a painting.

It was Lan Yuexin.

"Please have a seat, Miss Yun."

Lan Yuexin looked up, her gaze falling upon Yun Qianyue, her bright eyes holding a hint of inquiry.

"I have long heard of your reputation, Miss Yun. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Yun Qianyue sat in the chair across from the tea table. Her gaze swept over the other woman’s stunning face, and her voice, though still cold, held no trace of arrogance.

"You are too kind, Steward Lan. May I ask why you invited me here today?"

Lan Yuexin did not answer immediately.

She lifted the teapot, poured a cup of tea for Yun Qianyue, and presented it to her with both hands, her movements graceful and unhurried.

Only after Yun Qianyue accepted the cup did she sit down across from her. Her bright eyes lowered slightly, and she paused for a moment, as if carefully choosing her words.

"May I ask, what is your relationship with Fang Han?"

The hand with which Yun Qianyue held her teacup paused for a moment.

She raised her eyes to meet Lan Yuexin’s, her voice as cold as ever. But beneath that coldness, there was a faint, almost imperceptible trace of wariness.

"Senior Brother Fang and I joined the Sect in the same year and became acquainted while we were in the Sub-Branch. Why do you ask, Steward Lan?"

"I will be frank with you, Miss Yun."

Lan Yuexin shook her head gently, a faint smile playing on her lips.

She lifted the teacup before her but did not drink. Instead, she gently stroked the side of the cup with her fingertips. The glimmer of the tea was reflected in her bright eyes, as if she were recalling something from the distant past.

"I have admired Fang Han for a very long time."

She spoke these words softly, yet each one was perfectly clear, without a hint of evasion.

A flicker of emotion passed through Yun Qianyue’s cold eyes, but she remained silent.

Lan Yuexin looked up, met Yun Qianyue’s gaze, and continued.

She spoke of the night of the ambush at the inn, of how Fang Han had stood before her and driven back the masked assassin with a single slash of his sword.

Her voice was soft and slow, every word imbued with sincerity.

Yun Qianyue listened in silence. No emotion could be read on her face, hidden as it was by the purple veil, but her fingers holding the teacup tightened slightly.

When she finished speaking, Lan Yuexin looked up at Yun Qianyue, her bright eyes filled with sincerity.

"Miss Yun, I did not invite you here today to compete with you. I know you are the one in Fang Han’s heart, and I have never wished to change that. I only wish to ask... that you allow me a place by his side."

Yun Qianyue remained silent. The glimmer of the tea was reflected in her cold eyes, making it impossible to know what she was thinking.

’She came from a Middle Grade family in Qingyang County. In families like hers, it was perfectly normal for a man to have several wives and concubines.’

’Her own father had several wives and concubines, so she had grown up accustomed to the dynamics of the inner household. It wasn’t something she found unacceptable.’

’But sharing him with a woman she didn’t know or trust was another matter entirely.’

Lan Yuexin took in Yun Qianyue’s silence and did not press her for an answer. Instead, she lifted the teapot again and refilled her cup.

"Miss Yun, are you aware of the Fang Family’s current situation?"

Yun Qianyue looked up.

Lan Yuexin set the teapot down, her voice gentle but firm:

"Though the Fang Family has risen to prominence, its foundations are still shallow, and they lack anyone skilled in management. He is a peerless talent whose future accomplishments will be limitless. However, the further one progresses on the path of the Martial Dao, the greater the resources required."

"All kinds of Cultivation Elixirs—which of them doesn’t require a fortune? And these are things that the Sect alone often cannot provide in sufficient quantity."

Yun Qianyue fell silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice, while still cold, was slightly less distant than before:

"Are you saying, Steward Lan, that you can help him?"

"I can."

Lan Yuexin answered without the slightest hesitation, her bright eyes filled with conviction and earnestness.

"The Hundred Treasures Pavilion has business both inside and outside the county. As long as he needs anything, I will do everything in my power to help. Miss Yun, you understand the Martial Dao; you must know how crucial cultivation resources are for one’s Cultivation."

Yun Qianyue lowered her gaze and thought in silence. Her resolve was already beginning to waver.

’If Lan Yuexin could truly help Fang Han in these matters...’

The room fell quiet for a long time. Only the fragrant smoke from the bronze censer continued to curl and spread silently.

"Miss Lan."

Yun Qianyue finally spoke. Her cool eyes rested on Lan Yuexin’s face. Her tone was still cold but held less of its former distance—a shift that was evident from her change in address.

"If you can truly help him, I have no objection."

Lan Yuexin’s bright eyes lit up, and she could no longer suppress the smile spreading across her lips. She rose to her feet and gave Yun Qianyue a formal bow.

"Thank you. I, Lan Yuexin, swear an oath here and now: I will never go back on my word today, nor will I ever betray the trust you have placed in me."

Yun Qianyue shifted slightly to the side, accepting only half of the bow.

"There is no need to thank me. I simply believe that it is always a good thing for him to have one more person on his side."

Her tone was cool and frank.

...

「Two days later, Fang Han had already reached the borders of Songquan County.」

The scenery on either side of the official road was not much different from that in Qingyang County—the same rolling hills, the same verdant forests.

Only the attire of the farmers toiling in the fields differed slightly, but on the whole, the differences were minor.

For the past two days, he had been traveling day and night, gnawing on dry rations when he was hungry and drinking from mountain springs when he was thirsty.

The rations were flatbreads stuffed with cured meat that his mother had insisted on packing in his bag before he left Liangshui City. They tasted decent enough on the first day, but by the third meal, they left his mouth feeling unpleasantly dry.

Up ahead, beside the official road, the silhouette of a city was faintly visible.

The city walls weren’t very high, perhaps five or six zhang, and were built from dusty, gray stone blocks. Atop the walls, banners hung limply in the afternoon breeze.

Embedded above the city gate was a stone plaque. The two words "Songqiao City" had been eroded by the elements and were somewhat blurry.

Fang Han stopped before the city gate, brushed the dust from his robes, and stepped inside.

The city was reasonably bustling. Shops lined both sides of the main street, and the calls of vendors rose and fell in waves.

His gaze swept across the street, and he soon locked onto a tavern.

It was a three-story wooden building with a string of red lanterns hanging from its upturned eaves. A steady stream of customers came and went, a clear sign of a prosperous business.

’With business this good, the food must be decent.’

"This way, sir, please!" an attendant greeted him eagerly.

Fang Han nodded slightly. His eyes swept over the main hall, but he didn’t linger on the first floor, heading straight for the second.

He chose a table by the window and sat down, propping his Cloud Splitting Sword against the side of his chair before casually ordering a few dishes.

The food arrived quickly.

There was a plate of braised beef, sliced to a uniform thickness; a whole steamed perch, steaming on a celadon platter; a dish of glistening, emerald-green vegetables with garlic; and a pot of yellow wine, warmed to the perfect temperature.

He picked up his chopsticks and put a slice of beef in his mouth. It was perfectly savory, chewy but not tough.

’Finally, no more of that dry flatbread.’

He ate slowly, savoring each bite.

The warm wine slid down his throat, washing away some of the fatigue that had built up over days of travel.

The din of the street market drifted in from the window—the rumble of carriages, the calls of vendors, and the laughter of playing children all blended together, creating a comforting sense of worldly peace.

On the other side of the second floor, a tall, thin, dark-skinned young man was drinking and laughing with two companions.

The man’s name was Zhao Jun, a disciple of the Red Flame Sect, though he wasn’t wearing a Red Flame Sect Disciple’s Robe.

He had accompanied a Sect Elder to Songquan County on business and, after several busy days, was taking a short break. He had decided to come here for a meal with two of his martial brothers.

He got up to relieve himself. On his way back, his eyes swept casually over the dining hall, and he suddenly froze.

At the table by the window, a young man was eating at a leisurely pace.

A green robe with silver embroidery and a dark cyan longsword hanging at his waist—the outfit immediately brought the man’s identity to mind.

’Qingxuan Sect’s True Inheritor, Fang Han.’

Zhao Jun’s heart skipped a beat.

He averted his gaze, and instead of returning to his table, he quickly left the tavern and hurried toward an inn.

"Elder Meng."

After knocking and receiving permission to enter, Zhao Jun pushed the door open. Inside, a stocky man of about fifty was seated. It was none other than Meng Zhao, a First-Grade Elder of the Red Flame Sect.

He was currently on a secret mission in Songquan County as punishment from his Sect. He was drinking sullenly, his expression so dark it looked like it could drip water.

"What is it?" Meng Zhao looked up, his tone impatient.

"I just saw someone at the tavern," Zhao Jun said in a low voice, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

"Who?"

"Fang Han. *The* Fang Han from the Qingxuan Sect."

The hand Meng Zhao was using to hold his wine cup paused. His brow furrowed slowly, and a sharp glint flashed through his eyes, which had been slightly hazy from the alcohol.

"Fang Han? What would he be doing in Songquan County? Are you sure you weren’t mistaken?"

"I was surprised as well."

Zhao Jun said confidently.

"But he was wearing the True Inheritance Robe of the Qingxuan Sect. I couldn’t be mistaken."

Meng Zhao set his wine cup on the table with a soft thud.

’He was only here on this punitive mission because of Fang Han. He already harbored a deep-seated grudge against him.’

’Now, Fang Han had appeared alone in Songquan County, possibly carrying treasures from the Ancient Ruins.’

’This was an opportunity that had fallen right into his lap.’

He rose slowly to his feet. The haziness from the alcohol had vanished from his eyes, replaced by an ice-cold clarity.

"Go and keep an eye on him. See which way he heads after he finishes eating."

Meng Zhao’s voice was low, each word seemingly forced from between his clenched teeth.

He turned, took his crimson longsword from the back of his chair, and the killing intent in his eyes was so thick it was almost tangible.