Chapter 97: Brother, Are You Panicking?

Chapter 97: Brother, Are You Flustered?

Xue Keren was furious with Zheng Jian, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to calm down. After a moment of silence, a plan formed in her mind. She turned around and sat in Zheng Jian’s arms.

Immediately, her natural fragrance wafted straight to Zheng Jian’s nose.

“Are you even human?” Xue Keren snapped angrily.

Zheng Jian raised an eyebrow. “If I weren’t human, would you dare to do this?”

Xue Keren felt a surge of resentment towards him.

She paused, realizing that this man was truly sharp-tongued—his words had the power to infuriate.

“Since you’re human, and a man at that, why are you so indifferent to me?” she teased with a sly smile.

Zheng Jian was anything but indifferent. If mere glances were somewhat controllable, now that this soft and fragrant woman was sitting in his lap, a lack of reaction would be unmanly indeed.

So, Zheng Jian immediately responded.

Xue Keren felt it right away.

She beamed with pride—it meant she wasn’t without charm. Her smile was sly and fox-like. Glancing outside, she said, “You’re in for some trouble soon.”

Zheng Jian smiled dismissively. “I knew trouble was coming the moment you walked in.”

If there were no trouble, why would a beauty throw herself into his arms so wildly?

Perhaps the ancient and modern martial arts worlds were completely different. In the modern world, there were many passionate and beautiful women, but none so wildly expressive as this.

Yet in the ancient world, women like Xue Keren were not uncommon.

“Do you know what kind of trouble?” Xue Keren purred, her breath fragrant as she nestled in Zheng Jian’s embrace.

Zheng Jian chuckled, “I’m guessing your trouble comes from your husband.”

Xue Keren’s expression shifted, then she smiled again. “How do you know I have a husband?”

Zheng Jian laughed heartily. “I guessed, but I’m usually right. How do I know? Because he’s already here!”

In the next instant, the tavern doors crashed open, and a young swordsman stood in the entrance. Handsome enough to satisfy any admirer of looks.

But his eyes burned with rage, his face dark as iron.

He glared at Xue Keren as if he wanted to devour her. “You wretched woman, come out!”

Xue Keren sighed sorrowfully. “You always find me. Wherever I go, you find me! Fine, I’m coming out.”

She stood and walked out, completely bare.

The handsome swordsman panicked and shouted, “Stop! Don’t come out!”

Xue Keren halted gently. “Look, if you tell me to come out, I will. But if you tell me not to, then what am I supposed to do? Come out or not?”

The swordsman was speechless and, ignoring Xue Keren, fixed his furious gaze on Zheng Jian as if ready to explode.

Zheng Jian rose calmly, smiling. “Brother, don’t get angry! There’s a saying: To get by in life, you’ve got to have a little green on you. And another saying: Love is a light that shines—so green it makes you nervous. Brother, are you flustered?”

The resentment from Xiahou Xing surged fiercely.

Xiahou Xing felt his head about to explode. Anyone seeing their wife like this would be driven mad with rage.

But Xue Keren laughed so hard her whole body trembled—she was no longer angry.

That’s how it was: when you’re about to lose your mind with anger, suddenly seeing the person you hate most becoming furious makes you instantly happy.

Xiahou Xing could no longer contain himself. Furious, he growled, “Kid, you’ve really angered me! You’ll face the wrath of the Xiahou clan and endless pursuit!”

Zheng Jian chuckled lightly, unbothered. In this world, the only two people worth his attention were Sword God Xie Xiaofeng and Yan Shisan. The rest were insignificant.

The Xiahou clan? Never heard of it.

Zheng Jian couldn’t be blamed—he remembered little about this world. The only notable figure was Huashan Sect’s wandering swordsman Hua Shaokun, who had also been a stepping stone for Xie Xiaofeng.

As for the Xiahou clan? Sorry, no idea.

Sensing the contempt in Zheng Jian’s eyes, Xiahou Xing roared and lunged forward with his strange long sword.

This sword was indeed unusual. In his hands, it was a sword, but when Xiahou Xing thrust it forward, it instantly shattered into a rain of silver light.

This was the famous Thousand Serpent Sword—Xiahou Xing’s signature blade. When unleashed, it was like a thousand venomous snakes striking simultaneously, impossible to defend against.

Zheng Jian smiled faintly. Though surprised by the Thousand Serpent Sword, it was merely a surprise. A mere extra with only a name to show for himself hardly interested Zheng Jian.

He drew his Tear Mark Sword with a flourish and executed the “Broken Sword Style”!

As the sword slashed out, it was as natural as a gentle breeze, as brilliant as the stars. The sapphire glow enveloped the Tear Mark Sword, illuminating the entire tavern.

Xiahou Xing was shocked. The Thousand Serpent Sword’s venomous assault instantly shattered under Zheng Jian’s strike, like delicate snowflakes melting away.

The Thousand Serpent Sword was knocked aside, and Xiahou Xing himself was blasted back by Zheng Jian’s unmatched inner strength, flying out of the tavern and landing beside a horse-drawn carriage.

The old coachman by the carriage flashed a worried look, but no one noticed, not even Xiahou Xing lying before him.

Xue Keren’s eyes widened, then she smiled. She was certain she had merely chosen a random tavern and, upon spotting this young man, employed a well-practiced tactic.

She’d used this trick over a dozen times, but whenever Xiahou Xing appeared, no one could stand against him.

In other words, everyone who had seen her body was dead—except for Xiahou Xing and Zheng Jian.

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. She eagerly awaited Xiahou Xing’s return, over and over, until he died at the hands of this mysterious youth before her eyes. Then, she would be reborn!

Zheng Jian watched as Xiahou Xing slowly rose and retrieved the Thousand Serpent Sword.

“What was the name of that sword technique just now?” Xiahou Xing asked, now calm. His previous fury had vanished.

“And what’s your name?” Zheng Jian retorted.

“There shouldn’t be a name for you in the martial world!” Xiahou Xing stepped closer, speaking quickly. He had thought carefully and found that the sword stroke had no particular name, but it struck directly at his weakness—this was unusual.

Zheng Jian shook his head, his gaze passing over Xiahou Xing to the coachman. Calmly, he said, “Xiahou Xing isn’t a match for me. Now you understand clearly, don’t you? If you don’t act, Xiahou Xing might die.”

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(End of Chapter)