Chapter 44: An Unexpected Encounter at the Inn

Azhi shot Yunchenghe a cold glance, wishing she could tear him apart. Her current predicament was entirely his doing, yet he had the nerve to ask how she was feeling. Yunchenghe sensed the grievance in Azhi’s eyes and realized he had said the wrong thing. He felt as though even his very breath was a mistake.

The two held each other tightly, and after their moment of passion, both were at a loss for words, awkwardly silent. At length, Azhi wriggled free from Yunchenghe’s embrace. He stared at her, unblinking, only snapped out of his reverie when she spoke.

“Turn around. No peeking.”

“Oh!” Yunchenghe, feeling guilty, obediently turned his back to her, leaving only his silhouette.

Azhi gazed at his back, paused, and covered her mouth with a soft laugh, thinking to herself, What a fool. As she dressed, the rustle of fabric echoed, and she kept glancing over her shoulder to see if Yunchenghe was peeking. Yet he behaved like a model gentleman, sitting with his back to her, motionless as a meditating monk.

A surge of anger swept through Azhi’s heart. Did she no longer hold any allure in his eyes? Yunchenghe, hearing the silence behind him, began to turn around, but recalling her instructions, he twisted back, facing away once more.

“Azhi, are you done changing? May I turn around now?”

At first, seeing him begin to turn, Azhi’s anger vanished. Clearly, she still captivated him; he couldn’t resist sneaking a glance. Yet to her surprise, he halted halfway and turned back. Azhi’s chest heaved—she was furious.

Men truly are hopeless.

“Yunchenghe, you beast!”

Azhi’s furious cry echoed through the woods.

…

Along the mountain path.

Yunchenghe followed close beside Azhi, his gaze aggrieved as he muttered softly, “Wasn’t it you who told me not to peek? Yet now it’s my fault—women!”

Azhi stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing with a hint of murderous intent. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re too beautiful. Having you by my side is a blessing earned in my past life,” Yunchenghe replied hastily, trying to appease her.

“Smooth-talking rogue.” Azhi spat at him, but from the slight upward curve of her lips, her mood was not nearly as sour as it appeared. She could see just how much Yunchenghe cared for her, and that was enough.

“You were going to propose to Yunchenghe, so why are you suddenly attending some martial arts gathering?”

Faced with Azhi’s question, Yunchenghe had no reason to hide anything. He recounted in detail the deal he had struck with Fu Hongxue. As for Yue Buqun, after the martial arts tournament, he would have no choice but to agree.

“Let’s go. At our current pace, we should reach the city by sunset.”

They had camped in the wild for three days since leaving Mount Hua. Upon hearing there was a town nearby, they decided to rest properly. They arrived at the inn just as night was falling.

The innkeeper glanced at the two, his eyes full of contempt. Their clothes were muddy, their hair unkempt, and a foul stench surrounded them—they looked no different from beggars.

To avoid trouble like last time, Yunchenghe, seeing the innkeeper about to chase them out, immediately produced a gleaming gold ingot and placed it on the table.

The innkeeper’s eyes went wide, and his attitude changed instantly; he welcomed them with a bright smile, ignoring their dirty garments and unpleasant odor.

“Boy, give us a top room, bring up several buckets of hot water, and serve us a fine meal with good wine.”

“Right away, honored guests. Please follow me upstairs.”

Yunchenghe and Azhi ascended together. At the stairway’s corner, Yunchenghe paused, sensing something.

Could it really be such a coincidence?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a scolding voice from the innkeeper rang out.

“You filthy beggar, no money and you dare drink here? Get out, you’re bad luck!”

Azhi heard the commotion—it was a daily occurrence. She glanced at Yunchenghe, asking, “Yunlang, what is it?”

Yunchenghe raised his hand, signaling her to be silent, his gaze following the direction of the voice.

A figure dressed in patched rags, wearing a melon-shaped cap, his face smeared with dirt as if he’d rolled in a mud pit, a wine flask hanging at his waist, and a drunken air about him. Yunchenghe’s gaze slowly traveled upward, fixing on the beggar’s hand—his pinky was only half its length.

Given his attire and that distinctive hand, the newcomer could only be the former chief of the Beggar’s Sect, the Nine-Fingered Divine Beggar, Hong Qigong.

Hong Qigong paid no mind to the innkeeper’s abuse; his eyes were fixed solely on the food before him.

“Boy, don’t trouble this old man. Put all his charges on my tab,” Yunchenghe said as he strode over, tossing a gold ingot to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper quickly caught it, thanking Yunchenghe profusely, then turned to Hong Qigong and snapped, “Lucky you, someone’s come to help.”

Hong Qigong never even raised his head.

With the innkeeper dismissed, Yunchenghe sat beside Hong Qigong.

“Old sir, eat slowly. Don’t choke,” Yunchenghe said kindly.

At these words, Hong Qigong finally paused, lifting his gaze from the food to Yunchenghe. Upon recognizing him, a look of surprise flashed across his eyes—he never expected his rescuer to be the infamous Yunchenghe.

“Master Hong,” Yunchenghe prompted, seeing Hong Qigong’s gaze linger on him. Was there something on his face?

Hong Qigong snapped back to himself, withdrew his gaze, and returned to his meal.

After days of rough living, watching Hong Qigong feast stirred Yunchenghe’s own hunger. Once internal skills reach a certain level, eating is only necessary to satisfy cravings beyond daily needs.

He beckoned Azhi to sit, ordered the innkeeper to prepare another table of food and wine, and soon was devouring the meal himself, heedless of appearances.

Azhi looked nervous, her eyes darting to Hong Qigong and remaining alert. She had to be careful—he was the Northern Beggar, renowned for his hatred of evil.

Yunchenghe’s reputation in the martial world was infamous. The meeting of these two was surely a recipe for disaster.

Seeing Azhi hesitate, Yunchenghe glanced at Hong Qigong, understanding her concern, and gently patted the back of her hand. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”