Chapter Fifty-Two: The Turbulent Martial World

“Have you heard? Another notorious bandit has been put on the wanted list by the authorities!” In a bustling tavern, a middle-aged man dressed as a martial artist lowered his voice conspiratorially to those around him.

“Who is it? The officials are always issuing wanted notices these days,” another scoffed dismissively.

“If it were just an ordinary warrant, would I bother telling you? It’s a Bloodhunt notice!” He uttered the last words even more quietly, as if the very term carried some unspeakable terror, causing chills to run through the listeners.

“Bloodhunt notice! Good heavens!” The men at the table drew sharp breaths, “Whose successor is it this time?”

Though the Bloodhunt notice was issued by the authorities, it was truly meant for the martial world. Decades ago, warriors from all directions converged on the central plains and clashed fiercely with the major sects. That legendary battle proved the martial heroes of legend were no mere myth.

It was a duel among martial artists, yet it affected the politics of several nations. The victory of the central plains’ martial sects forced the Northern Liao and the Song to sign an uneasy peace. Dali, Tibet, and Western Xia likewise began a period of recovery.

Many of those warriors perished before passing on their martial arts, their legacies divided among the sects, with some skills drifting into the wider world.

For instance, the number one on the Bloodhunt list now—Poison-Hand Ding Xinghai—received the legacy of the sinister elder of the Star Sect. Five years ago, he rose to infamy, killing over a dozen renowned innate masters single-handedly.

“He uses the Crocodile Gold Shears and loves to twist necks—it’s said he was one of the Four Great Villains!” the man whispered.

Everyone instinctively shrank back, as though their own necks might be snapped at any moment.

Not far away, a tall and a short figure set down their teacups.

“So, do you have any clues yet? It’s been nearly a week and you still haven’t found a trace of that legacy. Are we just here on holiday?” Sun Meng glared at the person across from him, Coco Lalu, complaining.

A week ago, they arrived in this world, hurried for three days to reach the region of Mount Song, and spent each day listening to martial artists boast and gossip.

From their chatter, Sun Meng pieced together what happened during the original Heavenly Dragon era. What began as martial affairs grew into a major influence due to the involvement of Xiao Feng, Xu Zhu, Duan Yu, and Murong Fu. Their identities resolved a war among Western Xia, Liao, Song, and Dali.

“Something’s wrong,” Coco Lalu said. “I’m sure I castrated that Murong Fu fellow, so how did he establish Murong Manor?”

“You castrated who? Didn’t you say you killed Jiumozhi and castrated Duan Yu by his side?” Sun Meng telepathically replied, recalling what he’d always believed.

“When did I say I castrated Duan Yu?” Coco Lalu rolled her eyes. “To be honest, Murong Fu and his father collected eighty percent of the world’s top martial arts manuals at that time. Their plan failed, but some skills remained unclaimed, hidden in a certain place.”

“So? You think they're near Shaolin Temple?” Sun Meng was exasperated. Murong Fu had ties to Western Xia but never controlled it, and his father even less so.

“Of course not!” Coco Lalu replied. “I have clues. Wait two more days! If nothing turns up, we’ll go somewhere else—there’s bound to be something there!” She gritted her teeth.

“Whatever!” Sun Meng shrugged, pouring himself a glass of water. He understood the lay of the land: innate masters were the elites here. No news of grandmasters, though rumors persisted. As long as he didn’t become as notorious as those wanted figures, he could roam freely.

Two days later, just past midnight, Sun Meng’s door was pounded urgently.

“What are you doing?” he opened the door to find Coco Lalu already dressed in her night attire.

“I found a clue! Let’s go!” In her palm, a crystal ball glowed, displaying an image of a mountain.

They left immediately, and five days later, guided by the crystal ball, crossed from Song territory into Western Xia.

If the martial world of Song was chaotic, Western Xia was utter bedlam, with disorder reaching every corner.

Bandits roamed unchecked, soldiers and thieves indistinguishable.

Along their journey, Sun Meng and Coco Lalu encountered a dozen bands of horse thieves and mountain brigands, seven or eight crooked inns and swindlers. Here, anyone approaching you might be after your wealth—or your life.

“We’re nearly at the capital of Western Xia, but the directions you’re giving don’t lead anywhere near a mountain!” Sun Meng protested.

“It’s not a mountain—it’s a garden!” Coco Lalu corrected him.

“A garden? Western Xia’s flowers…” Sun Meng suddenly thought of a place. “Don’t tell me your destination is the imperial palace!”

“That’s right, but it’s a rather secluded part,” Coco Lalu fiddled with her crystal ball.

“Even if it’s secluded, it’s still the palace! Do you really think two of us can manage this?” Sun Meng suspected Coco Lalu had no grasp of this world’s customs. Sometimes, even when facing defeat, one could not lose face!

“Relax, I have a plan. Look!” The crystal ball projected an image of two experts engaged in a fierce battle.

“If I cast this image there, do you think they’ll pay us any mind?” she grinned mischievously, referring to a segment of the royal garden.

“You’ll need to spread some rumors first, otherwise the local martial artists here won’t be enough to trouble Western Xia’s army,” Sun Meng remarked, thinking back to the types they’d encountered.

“I’ve already set the rumors loose. So now, my safety is in your hands!” As she spoke, the crystal ball began to glow.

“There they are!” a man’s voice shouted outside.

Sun Meng didn’t need to turn; he felt the sounds of weapons aimed at him. With a wave, a shower of metal fragments flew out and felled all the attackers.

“Quick, let’s go!” Sun Meng grabbed Coco Lalu and leapt onto the tavern’s roof. Down below, the soldiers were already converging.

Even in a chaotic city, the capital’s soldiers were efficient.

“You up there, come down immediately!” The captain below spotted them and shouted, and his soldiers readied their bows. These were specialized, powerful weapons crafted to counter martial artists; when facing a real army, even martial experts had no advantage.

“Bows? You’ve met your match!” Sun Meng sneered. The Divine Archer’s Bow appeared in his hands, and with a single shot of inner energy, arrows flew.

In an instant, all the soldiers’ weapons below were destroyed, leaving only stunned faces. Sun Meng whisked Coco Lalu away, soaring into the distance.

“Flight—an innate master!” The captain swallowed hard, then noticed the martial artists felled by Sun Meng. Though alive, they were crippled.

“Arrest them all!” he ordered, and the soldiers rushed to comply. Onlookers scattered, fearing involvement.

But the events of this night quickly spread through the city.

In a hidden house, Sun Meng glared at Coco Lalu, “So this is your plan? Using me as bait!”

Coco Lalu replied, “It’s not truly bait. Just lure them over there with this, and that’s all. Three days, and once it’s done, you’ll have half a month of freedom—how about it? I know quite a few secrets about those old martial heroes!”

“Enough! If I really wanted to find someone, I’d just go for the famous ones in the martial world! You’ve led me into a mess!” Sun Meng took the crystal ball, feigning reluctance, though in truth, he had his own plans.