Chapter One Hundred: A Sight Beyond Compare

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He Chang’an was unfamiliar with this military town called Dasanguan. So, after finally finishing “healing” all the border guards, he thought he would take a good walk around and have a look.

The old scholar had said that somewhere along the northern border lay a certain fate for He Chang’an, and if he had time, he should take the chance to explore more.

Now, He Chang’an basically trusted Mr. Lü’s words.

Even though he hadn’t read many classic texts, the old scholar’s few words had been enough to make the Taoist Li Qinglian yield and obediently hand over several hundred jin of spiritual materials. That alone spoke volumes.

Besides, the Tang Dynasty’s top official martial artist showed great respect toward Mr. Lü...

“Ah, isn’t this Young Master He Chang’an!” Just as he stepped out of the formation, he heard Zhang Xiaoyan’s soft, coaxing voice.

He Chang’an suddenly wanted to turn back.

This exquisitely beautiful fellow unnerved him; there was always something off, and hearing his voice made his scalp tingle.

“Come on, let me take you out for some fun?” The Heavenly Master of Longhu Mountain smiled warmly, his almond-shaped eyes rippling like a spring breeze.

“I want to walk alone,” He Chang’an said stiffly.

‘Damn, one says “fun,” the other says “walk,” and before you know it, they make a pair...’

He lowered his head, avoided Zhang Xiaoyan, and quickened his pace, afraid that this androgynous fellow might follow him.

Zhang Xiaoyan, stung by He Chang’an’s coldness, didn’t get angry. Instead, he smiled gently, standing there watching He Chang’an flee embarrassingly, finding it amusing.

Ahead was a dead end; he wasn’t worried He Chang’an wouldn’t turn back.

Sure enough, after a dozen breaths, He Chang’an returned, his face full of frustration, trying to bypass Zhang Xiaoyan and rush in another direction.

Unexpectedly, the Longhu Mountain Heavenly Master stood squarely in his path, chest out, refusing to move.

At that moment, to stay hidden, the formation had been set up in a narrow alley, allowing only two people to pass side by side.

Now, with someone blocking the way in the middle, He Chang’an was trapped, unable to go forward or back. He could only put on a stern face and say, “Brother Zhang, please make way.”

Zhang Xiaoyan raised a slender jade-like hand, pinched his fingers into an orchid shape, and stomped his foot coquettishly, as if about to tap He Chang’an’s forehead.

He Chang’an shuddered all over, took a quick step back, and blurted out a phrase that had been bottled up in his heart for days:

“Fellow Daoist, please show some respect!”

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Zhang Xiaoyan was slightly startled, withdrew his orchid fingers, and smiled charmingly, murmuring, “Young Master, your words are so pleasant. Come on, say a few more.”

Cold sweat broke out on He Chang’an’s forehead. Yet the other’s handsome, lively face made him feel at a loss.

Unable to fight or argue effectively, He Chang’an simply resorted to stubborn silence, staring straight at Zhang Xiaoyan without a word.

It had to be said, after more than three months of harsh training at Dragon Gate Waterfall, He Chang’an’s temperament had subtly changed.

The most obvious change was his newfound steadiness. He was no longer the rogue scoundrel from Weiyang County, nor the nimble-fingered He Chang’an of old.

He just wanted to be himself.

Because the old scholar had warned him that a frivolous person would never get far, whether in study or cultivation.

“A scholar must win others by virtue. What does that mean? It’s simple—like when you practice boxing, if your stance isn’t solid, how can your strikes be stable?”

“A gentleman is quick to act but slow to speak—that's the principle.”

Mr. Lü had said many similar things, some He Chang’an remembered, others he hadn’t noted.

After all, many times when they met, the old scholar was heavily drunk, rambling incoherently. He hadn’t paid much attention then, but later, reflecting quietly, he realized how profound those words were.

Feeling the unwavering gaze, the Longhu Mountain Heavenly Master suddenly blushed, his handsome face flushing. He laughed, “Young Master He, Miss Hongxiu asked you to protect me—this is a military order.”

As if worried He Chang’an wouldn’t believe him, Zhang Xiaoyan produced a token from his sleeve, waved it before He Chang’an’s eyes, then tucked it away.

He Chang’an frowned slightly and turned to walk back into the formation.

An ordinary patrol token? What a joke...

“Wait, wait, wrong token,” Zhang Xiaoyan pouted coquettishly, dodging a foot, and pulled out another token from his bosom. Sure enough, it was the token of Commander Zheng Hongxiu.

But one token was worth nothing. He Chang’an was probably more familiar with the camp’s affairs than anyone. His expression darkened.

“Hehe, looks like Miss Hongxiu and Miss Ajiu were right—you really aren’t easy to fool,” Zhang Xiaoyan giggled and, like a magician, produced a sound transmission talisman in his palm.

With a light pinch, the pricey talisman dissolved into a single phrase and a wisp of azure smoke:

“He Chang’an, receive orders: you must ensure Zhang Xiaoyan’s safe return to Longhu Mountain.”

He Chang’an was dumbfounded.

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This couldn’t be a joke… could it? They wanted a grade-nine martial artist like him to escort a Longhu Mountain Grand Heavenly Master?

The real kicker was, this Grand Heavenly Master was indistinguishable as male or female. What was he supposed to do?

He had no idea where Longhu Mountain was, nor how far, but it must be very distant, meaning he’d have to trek many days with this “rabbit lord.”

Along the way, he’d inevitably have to eat and lodge…

“No way, I’m going to find Zheng Hongxiu!” He Chang’an’s face darkened. He shoved Zhang Xiaoyan aside and strode toward the alley’s mouth.

He intended to reason with Zheng Hongxiu. This kind of bullying wasn’t right!

Once outside the alley, after a bit of inquiry, He Chang’an hurried toward the commander’s tent.

Zhang Xiaoyan followed at a leisurely distance, not seeming worried at all, watching He Chang’an’s retreating back with a bright smile.

...

A cup of tea later, He Chang’an tumbled out of the commander’s tent.

Inside, Zheng Hongxiu had unleashed a fierce lioness roar, spitting curses like a sailor. She wanted to kick He Chang’an out and give him a few more kicks, but several generals held her back.

“Damn He Chang’an! Picking and choosing tasks—I’ll ruin him!”

He Chang’an scrambled far away, still hearing Zheng Hongxiu stamping and swearing inside the tent. He grimaced and muttered, “Tang women really are too unruly.”

He ran into Zhang Xiaoyan face to face. He Chang’an’s expression was bitter, almost pleading:

“Heavenly Master Zhang, Brother Zhang, please spare me.”

“Who’s your brother?” Zhang Xiaoyan pouted, stamping his foot like a little girl, turning his back, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’m your sister, you fool.”

He Chang’an was dumbfounded, pointing at this Longhu Mountain Heavenly Master, lips moving for several seconds but unable to speak.

“All right, all right, don’t look so wronged. If I didn’t see you’re sturdy and muscular, I wouldn’t have let you escort me!”

Zhang Xiaoyan shot He Chang’an a challenging glance, brow arched as if daring him: “Come on, if you’ve got the guts, try and stop me!”