Chapter 403

Chapter 403 Walking the World!

Hesitantly following Su Rui into the room, Zhang Ziwei felt deeply uncomfortable. In all her years, she had never been alone with a strange man like this.

“He won’t try anything, will he?” A faint worry stirred in Zhang Ziwei’s heart. She knew that with Su Rui’s skills, if he wanted to do something improper, she would have absolutely no way to resist.

Even so, despite the worry in her heart, Zhang Ziwei didn’t leave. Instead, as if guided by some unseen force, she followed Su Rui into the room.

“Less than two hours left. Get some rest while you can.”

A man and a woman alone together in a room, yet Su Rui had no intention of flirting. He casually washed his face, then folded the blanket and placed it right in the center of the bed, making it look like a dividing wall.

“This is the 38th parallel. Neither of us crosses it, and don’t even think about taking advantage of the other.”

With that, Su Rui lay down and was out cold. In less than a minute, soft snoring could already be heard.

Watching Su Rui like this, Zhang Ziwei couldn’t help but find it a little funny. The tension she had felt earlier had completely melted away. She washed her face, rubbed her tired eyes, and then lay down fully clothed on the other side of the blanket.

Zhang Ziwei wasn’t sleepy yet. She simply propped her head up and gazed at Su Rui’s profile, her bright eyes blinking in the darkness.

Two hours later, Luo Feiliang’s call came right on time.

The moment the ringtone sounded, Su Rui snapped awake and sat up. Listening to the voice on the other end, his expression grew noticeably grave.

“What happened?”

Zhang Ziwei rubbed her eyes and asked in a groggy daze.

“Wanyan Zhengyong is gone. I’m going to see him off.”

After hanging up, Su Rui went to the faucet and splashed his face vigorously several times.

“What happened to Wanyan Zhengyong?” Zhang Ziwei walked over to another faucet. She didn’t even notice that the two of them washing up side by side looked just like a couple who had been living together for a long time.

“He didn’t take a plane or a train. Wanyan Zhengyong has completely given up on the ten-year grand tournament. This afternoon, he took all of his Yuanwei Gang disciples and left Ninghai on foot!” Even upon hearing this news, Su Rui couldn’t help but feel a wave of surprise.

“Left Ninghai on foot?” Zhang Ziwei was also stunned. “What on earth is he trying to do?”

“Maybe he wants to toughen up his people and do their own version of the Long March all over again.” Su Rui also found Wanyan Zhengyong’s move hard to believe. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he actually walks all the way back to the three northern provinces from Ninghai.”

To make a move like this showed that Wanyan Zhengyong was truly disheartened.

At the very least, he had temporarily put aside any thoughts of taking Ninghai!

“I’m coming with you.” Zhang Ziwei said, patting the water droplets from her face.

“You missed a spot.” Su Rui didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he picked up a towel and gently wiped her face for her.

Being treated this way by Su Rui stirred a strange feeling in Zhang Ziwei’s heart.

Su Rui, however, showed no particular reaction. After helping Zhang Ziwei dry her face, he took her by the hand and headed out the door.

…………

At the borders of Ninghai, the land was covered in range after range of mountains. Two long columns of figures were making their way on foot through the hills.

Though there appeared to be over a thousand people, a massive number, not a single voice of conversation rose from the moving crowd. No one dared to break the silence. The discipline was iron-tight.

At the very front of the column, Wanyan Zhengyong, missing one arm, marched in equal silence. His expression was stern, and faint streaks of gray had begun to show at his temples.

He thought back to when he had arrived in Ninghai by boat, gazing out over the vast shimmering waters, surveying the land with grand ambition — what a spirit he had carried then. And yet now, the battle had not even been fought, and he was already leading his men in retreat. Though the manner of his leaving carried a certain dignity, there was no getting around it — he was a loser.

Wanyan Zhengyong carried a heavy weight in his chest. He had made up his mind: he would lead his men back to the north on foot from Ninghai.

This journey was not only a time of reflection for himself, but a trial by fire for the entire gang.

A sword’s edge is honed through grinding, and plum blossoms grow fragrant through bitter cold. The trip to Ninghai had made Wanyan Zhengyong, this so-called great leader of a generation, realize just how vast the gap was between himself and the top-tier powers — a gulf as wide as heaven and earth.

And so he had decided to postpone the Yuanwei Gang’s so-called century-long ambition indefinitely — until the day the Yuanwei Gang had truly earned the right to dominate Ninghai.

Giving up was not surrender, but a step back in order to leap further forward.

This stretch of road alone was at least 2,500 kilometers in a straight line.

At a pace of fifty kilometers a day, it would take at least two months to complete the journey.

Two months, sleeping under the open sky, traveling by starlight and moonlight, walking the land. Wanyan Zhengyong would measure with his own feet this territory that he would one day claim as his own.

Wanyan Huazhong followed behind his father, watching his silhouette in silence.

Though his body was still reasonably fit, after walking for most of the day, blisters had long since formed on the soles of Wanyan Huazhong’s feet. Yet he, the eldest son, had not a single complaint.

Wanyan Huazhong understood clearly that the shame of the Yuanwei Gang had been branded deep into every person’s heart. Without going through a massive release of that burden, it would remain a shadow that could never be shaken off.

And this Long March was, for all of them, the finest form of tempering — tempering the mind, tempering the will.

Wanyan Huazhong firmly believed that after walking these thousands of kilometers, nothing would ever be able to stop the Yuanwei Gang again. Within two years, unify the north. Five years from now, return to fight for Ninghai.

To know shame is to find courage.

This eldest son of the Yuanwei Gang knew clearly that sooner or later he would take over, sooner or later he would carry the gang’s century-long ambition on his shoulders. And all the brothers who had walked this Long March alongside him would become the most unshakable foundation and most precious asset of his future campaigns.

Wanyan Zhengyong glanced at the time and stopped walking.

Old Tian noticed and turned around, calling out in a loud voice: “Rest in place for one hour, then we move on!”

They were clearly planning to march through the night without sleep.

Hearing this, the exhausted members of the Yuanwei Gang raised no complaints. They sat down one by one — some leaning against their packs for a short rest, others pulling out water and food to replenish their strength wherever they could. Not a single person broke the silence order.

In the mountain forest on a summer night, the mosquitoes were relentless. The Yuanwei Gang members had made no preparations for this, and could only grit their teeth and endure the itching and stinging of the bites. Every now and then, sharp slapping sounds rang out through the trees — the sound of people swatting mosquitoes.

In terms of combat strength and execution alone, the Yuanwei Gang was genuinely several levels above every other gang. Even the four elite halls under Zhang Ziwei of the Qinglong Gang fell short.

Wanyan Zhengyong picked up a bottle of mineral water, bit off the cap, and took several long gulps.

Ever since losing his arm, he could no longer open a bottle cap with just his right hand alone.

Watching this, Wanyan Huazhong felt a wave of heartache wash over him. He still didn’t know who had taken his father’s arm, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a deep and burning hatred toward that person.

Old Tian let out a quiet sigh. Over these past few days, he had sighed more times than in all the decades before combined.

“Chief, get some sleep. If you keep going like this, your body won’t hold up.” Tian Bingyi urged.

Wanyan Zhengyong shook his head and continued gazing up at the night sky, eyes slightly narrowed, lost in thoughts no one could read.

Just days ago he had been full of fire and spirit. Now he looked as though he had aged several years. Anyone who saw him would feel a pang of discomfort.

“Dad, you can’t keep this up. Your body won’t take it.” Wanyan Huazhong couldn’t bear to watch any longer and spoke up to stop him.

“It’s rare to have a chance like this.” Wanyan Zhengyong finally spoke. “I want to stay clear-headed.”

That he could say such words meant that the Wanyan Zhengyong of now was a completely different person from before.

If the man he had been before was like a sword freshly drawn from its sheath — sharp, gleaming, full of spirit — then the man he was now resembled a great sword that had weathered storms and settled into stillness. A great sword needs no edge, for true mastery leaves no trace.

“In this life, it’s rare to be blissfully ignorant, and just as rare to be truly clear-eyed.” Tian Bingyi patted Wanyan Huazhong on the shoulder and said, “Let it go. The chief wants it this way, so let him be.”

“But Uncle Tian…” Wanyan Huazhong started to speak, then stopped.

“Don’t say anything more. Rest for a bit, recover your strength. There’s still a long stretch to walk tomorrow.” After saying this to Wanyan Huazhong, Tian Bingyi paid him no further mind and leaned against a rock with his eyes closed to rest.

And tomorrow was only the beginning. For the next fifty or sixty days, what awaited the members of the Yuanwei Gang was a road filled with hardship at every step.

At that very moment, on a mountain ridge over a thousand meters away, a man dressed in black night-wear stood proudly at the top of a tree, the tips of his feet resting lightly on the very end of a branch.

The scene looked utterly bizarre. How could a thin branch possibly bear the weight of a grown man? It was more incredible than anything you’d see in a movie.

The slender branch swayed ever so slightly, yet showed not the slightest sign of breaking.

The man held a pair of binoculars, taking in the full picture of the Yuanwei Gang below. After observing for a long while, a faint smile crept onto the corners of his lips.

Within that smile was a trace of something cruel and bloodthirsty.

At his waist hung a long samurai blade.

He tossed the binoculars aside with a casual flick, gave a light swing on the treetop, and with a swift spinning flip, landed silently on the ground without making a single sound.

And behind him stood five hundred black-clad figures dressed exactly like him.

They stood motionless among the trees, as if even their breathing had fallen into the same rhythm as the mountain breeze.

The black-clad man who had stood atop the tree swept his gaze across the scene, then slowly drew his long blade.

Its edge pointed silently toward the place where the Yuanwei Gang members were gathered.

Five hundred samurai blades were drawn at once, without a sound.