Volume Two: Bandits of This Land Chapter 130: Founding the City-Am I Really an Immortal?(The Ring of Hejian)

Outside the city, a troupe had set up a stage and was performing an opera, its nasal singing and racket carrying on without end.

“The merriment belongs to them. I have nothing.” A warrior dressed as a servant gazed enviously outside, his eyes straining with longing.

This warrior was, of course, the hired hand whom the tavern proprietress had forcibly kept behind that day with a barrage of “reason.” He too had wanted to join in the grand festivities of Sishan, but his luck had been abysmal. When the lots were drawn, he had happened to pick the wooden slip marked “guard the tavern.”

So he could only watch helplessly as the proprietress took the scholar out to experience the pleasures of the mortal world.

“That bastard scholar got all the benefits!” the warrior snarled. He was about to spit a thick gob of phlegm onto the ground, but then remembered that he would have to clean up the mess himself in the end...

With the arrow already nocked and no choice but to release it, he swallowed it back despite the disgust.

Unfortunately, Lin Changtian had just happened to pass by the tavern. He stopped where he stood, staring absently into the shop.

Tsk. Who would have thought Mo Bai City would develop so rapidly? Even that tiny tavern from back then had opened a branch!

A normal person might have stopped to reflect on whether he had taken a wrong turn. Lin Changtian, however, was extremely confident. Ever since Zhang Yi and Ma Hui had told him about the secrets of Heaven, the man had never once questioned his sense of direction.

“Marshal Lin... y-you saw all that?” the warrior asked awkwardly, tugging at the hem of his clothes with both hands.

Lin Changtian nodded. Deeply moved, he spoke with heartfelt emotion: “I saw it. I saw everything... This is the fruit of the great people of Sishan building and developing their homeland, brick by brick!”

The warrior: “...”

For this man to become the fourth warlord in the Northern Territory to establish a capital city, he must have relied on... luck?

He did not look particularly intelligent. In fact, he rather resembled one of those bizarre specimens of humanity the scholar had once described.

“The city wall is awfully lively, yet I don’t see anyone else in this shop... Are you the only one who isn’t planning to go?” Lin Changtian asked eagerly, completely missing the strange expression on the warrior’s face as he craned his neck to look around.

“There are only three of us in the shop,” the warrior explained, cupping his fists. “The mistress said she would take only one person with her. Whoever remained would be the unlucky fellow left behind to guard the place. Unfortunately, that unlucky fellow is me today.”

“Hah!” Lin Changtian curled his lip and laughed. “I remember that whenever there’s an event in the city, you’re always the only one left behind in this tavern. Think about it carefully—you may not be an unlucky fellow only today.”

“Marshal Lin, you really are... remarkably honest,” the warrior said with a forced smile.

His teeth itched with anger, but there was nothing he could do. After all, the man before him was a shameless rogue.

Two men had dared to cause trouble in Anma City. In terms of sheer nerve, they could probably be matched only by that man from the Central Plains several centuries ago who had tried to turn two hundred thousand into five million Happy Beans.

“All right!” Lin Changtian said. “Let me ask you one thing: do you want to go?”

The warrior nodded. His eyes were eager, though worry lingered within them. In a low voice, he said, “But if I leave, who will watch the shop?”

Lin Changtian furrowed his brow and pointed at him, shouting, “A man born beneath Heaven and Earth cannot allow himself to be shackled at every turn! The master of this tavern is merely a woman. What are you afraid of?”

“Then, according to your meaning... I should rise up and resist?” the warrior asked uncertainly, suspicion written across his face.

“A sage of the Central Plains once said: where there is oppression, there will be resistance! Go, young man. Fight for your freedom! Oh, and one more thing—was the city wall this way? I’ve just figured it out. No matter how many branches this tavern opens, they can’t exactly duplicate the employees.”

Light suddenly kindled in the warrior’s eyes. He no longer paid attention to Lin Changtian’s rambling. After casually pointing him in the right direction, he sank back into thought.

Where was the courage he had once possessed? Where was his former might? Was he truly going to submit from now on to that overbearing woman and that treacherous scholar?

Never! A practitioner of martial arts never submits!

Lin Changtian glanced at the entranced warrior, silently thought that something was amiss, and slipped out of the tavern toward the city wall.

* * *

“Where is Lin Changtian? That unreliable bastard! How can the ceremony to hang the plaque be held without him today?”

Liu Qingshan paced back and forth, cursing furiously. The walking stick in his hand was nearly driving a crack through the bluestone paving before him.

Kui Sheng did not dare say a word. He feared that once Liu Qingshan learned the truth, he would use him as a substitute for the paving stone.

“Senior Liu, please don’t be so anxious. Who are you waiting for with that miserable expression? You’ve even wrinkled your whole face! How ugly, how ugly. Though you weren’t exactly handsome to begin with.”

Lin Changtian had arrived without the slightest awareness that a single ominous character seemed to have appeared upon his forehead. He continued speaking to himself.

“Hm? The weather isn’t cold today. Why do I feel a chill down my spine?”

Lin Changtian scratched his head, puzzled. But he remembered the lesson Liu Qingshan had once taught him: if there was a problem, one ought to raise it.

Thus, Lin Changtian turned around with a smile—only to meet Liu Qingshan’s vicious kick squarely in the rear.

“Damn you, old man! Why did you kick my exquisite chrysanthemum?” Lin Changtian fell to the ground and cursed through the pain.

Liu Qingshan had intended to kick him again, but time allowed for no delay. He ignored him and pointed toward the plaque beneath the city wall, sneering.

“That thing cost a great deal of money. As the lord of Sishan, if you don’t hang it, who will?”

“Oh, that’s all?” Lin Changtian rose, dusted off his clothes, and lifted his head. “So now you need me? Where did all that arrogance of yours go? Not showing off anymore? Not putting on airs—”

Liu Qingshan finally lost his patience. This time, he kicked Lin Changtian in the face, leaving his exquisite chrysanthemum entirely untouched.

“Please calm down,” Lin Changtian said. “The atmosphere was so tense, I was only trying to liven things up. Since the appointed hour has arrived, I’ll go.”

Lin Changtian got to his feet once more and staggered toward the foot of the city wall.

The crowd was still noisy when he arrived. Yet the instant he lifted the plaque, everything fell silent.

The silence came with startling abruptness, as though everyone had agreed upon it beforehand.

The swordsmen sheathed their blades. The warriors lowered their fists. Traveling merchants rose onto their toes to see. The old people of Sishan covered their faces and wept.

The dissipated literati straightened their spines. The unmarried young women composed their bearing. The scholars shed their airs and mingled with common folk, making fools of themselves in every possible way simply for the sake of a little joy.

And at the distant Weinan mountain pass, tens of thousands of armored soldiers stood upon the walls. Enduring loneliness and desolation, they watched Sishan warily and murmured their congratulations beneath their breath.

The frontier was not bitter. The city of luxury was not coveted.

All of it was waiting for that one man to say a single sentence—brief, yet enduring; quiet, yet weighty.

“Establish the city!”

For one instant, silence held. Then it erupted. Music and dancing filled the air, while cheers rolled on without end.

From this day forward, the Northern Territory had a fourth city.

Its name was Mo Bai.