Chapter 95: Expensive Chicken Ribs

Zheng Jian finally understood everything.

Crow’s words, “Beneath Emerald Cloud Peak, before Green Water Lake,” instantly brought it back to him.

This was indeed not the Jin Yong world, but the Gu Long world. The Third Young Master of Divine Sword Villa, Xie Xiaofeng, was famous throughout the land, a name known by all and forgotten by none.

So when Crow said that Zheng Jian ought to know, he was right. If one were truly a swordsman in this world, no—not just a swordsman—so long as one was a martial artist of this realm, there would be no one who did not know of the Third Young Master.

His brilliance was so dazzling it could make one green with envy. He began learning the sword at five, deciphered sword manuals at six, and by the age of barely a dozen years he had already defeated Huashan’s foremost swordsman, the Azure Dragon Swordsman Hua Shaokun. After that, he inherited the number-one sword under heaven, a blade the Xie family had possessed for a century yet never found another to receive.

He was a genius truly born of heaven, and one might even say he was the emperor of swords, ordained by fate itself.

Zheng Jian nodded. “I know now, Crow. The other sword you want, I know that too.”

Crow looked at Zheng Jian in surprise, then nodded again. “You should know.”

Yes. If he knew this sword, then of course he knew the other one as well. The one that could stand beside the sword of the Third Young Master of Divine Sword Villa, the one that could be remembered by Crow, mad for swords as he was, could only be the sword in Yan Shisan’s hand.

Even Zheng Jian now recalled that, at this stage, Yan Shisan had not yet brought forth the fourteenth and fifteenth forms of the Deadly Thirteen Swords. Especially the fifteenth form—that was the sword art truly unrivaled beneath heaven.

That strike Xie Xiaofeng could not block. Could not catch.

That strike Yan Shisan could use, yet not control.

Only much later, in The Full Moon Scimitar, after Xie Xiaofeng had retired into obscurity for ten years and sat in silent seclusion within the Sword Repository Cottage for ten years, was a true method found to break that sword.

Of course, the present Xie Xiaofeng was still far from that level, and Yan Shisan had likewise not yet created that earth-shattering fifteenth sword.

Even so, the two of them already stood at the very summit of this martial world.

Compared with the Jin Yong worlds, the Gu Long worlds had more than one pair of such fated rivals. There was The Proud Twins, there were Western Horizon’s Ximen Chuixue and the White Cloud City Lord Ye Gucheng, and others besides...

They were all destined adversaries, each possessing the same astonishing talent and the same irresistible charm.

Zheng Jian laughed, and laughed heartily. He was extremely satisfied with this world.

He accepted Crow’s five taels of silver and said with a smile, “I wanted three taels and two candareens, but you gave me five taels. That leaves one tael and eight candareens extra. I think Yan Shisan’s sword is worth nine candareens, and the Third Young Master’s sword is worth nine candareens too. The one tael and eight candareens I owe you, I’ll repay with those two swords!”

Crow looked at Zheng Jian and thought him both mad and foolish.

Merely Yan Shisan’s sword alone could not be bought for even one hundred thousand taels of gold, much less the Xie family’s divine sword, which was simply beyond price.

And now this fellow was saying he would use those two swords to repay a mere one tael and eight candareens?

Crow shook his head. “Your sword, I’ll keep in mind for now. I can see that you, like the others, want to challenge Yan Shisan and the Third Young Master. That is the quickest way to make a name for yourself in the martial world.”

“Whichever one you challenge, remember to tell me in advance. After you die, your sword will be mine.”

That was Crow. He did not merely rely on robbery to obtain famous blades; he also relied on scavenging, especially collecting the swords left behind by the dead.

...

Crow left, but Zheng Jian did not.

He really did, just as he had said, take over the tavern.

Seated alone in the empty tavern, Zheng Jian took another sip of wine. The tavern was ordinary, and the wine was even more ordinary: rough, cloudy liquor, yet fierce and fiery, burning down his throat like a tongue of flame.

“Third Young Master... tsk. This world is far more free and unfettered.”

Zheng Jian glanced at the system’s resentment points. There were scarcely any left.

After all, before the great battle with Dongfang Bubai, he had exchanged for the Tear-Mark Sword. Though he had later stayed in Huashan for a while, he had not managed to fleece much out of them, so now he had less than a thousand points remaining.

He opened the exchange shop and glanced over it casually. At once, his eyes lit up.

“Damn it!”

It turned out that everything in the exchange shop had refreshed. No resentment points had been spent; it had refreshed automatically.

“Divine Bridal Robe Skill, passed down through the Yun and Tie branches of the Iron-Blood Banner Sect, also the supreme art practiced by the great hero Yan Nantian. Price: 15,000 resentment points.”

“Formless Divine Skill, an unparalleled art from Famous Swords and Elegant Wind. Price: 15,000 resentment points.”

“Four-Luminary Divine Skill, an unparalleled art from Sword and Profound Records. Price: 15,000 resentment points.”

Zheng Jian nearly drooled. These three arts were all among the highest-grade internal techniques in the Gu Long martial worlds.

But after he opened the introductions for the three manuals and read them carefully, his brows immediately furrowed.

The Innate Skill had already reached great completion. Zheng Jian was actually in need of an advanced internal art now, but these three techniques that had appeared... how should one put it? They were meager things.

First was the Four-Luminary Divine Skill. This inner art was certainly formidable. According to the description, once mastered, it could shatter any martial art in the world with the slightest movement of hand or foot. The problem was that it had to be cultivated from childhood. Setting aside virginity for the moment, Zheng Jian had indeed remained untouched after being reborn into the Smiling Proud Wanderer world. But the real issue lay with his meridians. The Four-Luminary Divine Skill had to be practiced from youth, and once mastered, the meridians and acupoints would differ from those of ordinary people. Zheng Jian’s meridians had long since taken their final shape; if he practiced this art, he would never achieve true mastery.

Then there was the Divine Bridal Robe Skill. It was equally powerful, incredibly so, but it was difficult to cultivate in the first place. Worse still, once mastered, one had to transfer all one’s power to another person, or else suffer agonies without end. And although Yan Nantian had cultivated it to the pinnacle, his body had consequently become massive and imposing, because only such a physique could bear the fierce and overwhelming energy within. Zheng Jian was now about five foot nine. If he practiced this according to the description, he was afraid he would grow into a veritable giant. A brute vajra, a lightning-blade mad monk—no, no, not for him.

Finally, there was the Formless Divine Skill. This one sounded rather good, but in truth it leaned heavily toward Buddhist methods. Even the practice posture required one to sit in the meditative stance of Buddhism. Zheng Jian had already embarked upon the Daoist path; if he changed over to Buddhist inner arts, who could say what hidden troubles might arise in the future?

To Zheng Jian, these three divine arts were indeed meager things. And they all shared one common trait: damnably expensive.

He closed the exchange shop and felt a kind of sudden understanding. Judging by these prices, the advanced martial arts he truly needed would likely all be at this level. Even if the three skills above were not ones he required, and even if the one he wanted did appear, with the resentment points he currently had, it would still be far beyond his reach...

So, even in The Sword of the Third Young Master, he had to hold fast to the principle of milking the system dry. Only with resentment points in hand could he one day say, “I want to become an immortal, free and happy under heaven!”

“How on earth could I have let Crow go so easily? What a bloody mistake...”

Zheng Jian wanted nothing more than to slap himself.

...