Chapter Forty-Four: Forcing a Way Through with Sword in Hand

Maple Leaf Court, situated in Yongxiang Lane to the east of Ji City, was the most renowned district for the wealthy. Those who resided in Yongxiang Lane were either affluent or noble. Among them, Maple Leaf Court, at the very heart, boasted the largest grounds and the most elegant gardens.

Jiang Bo’s residence was here, ever since he encountered his benefactor. In just two years, he had purchased the most expensive property in Ji City as a temporary abode, becoming one of the richest men in Youzhou.

Yet at this moment, this great magnate was wiping sweat from his brow, anxiety etched on his face, lips trembling incessantly. His cheeks were swollen and red, clear marks of slaps visible, with a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. The wounds were not inflicted by another, but by his own hand: regret pushed him to such extremes that he had slapped himself over a dozen times, punishing his folly until his mouth bled, filling it with a metallic taste.

The turn of events was entirely unexpected, and facing the unknown before him, Jiang Bo felt only boundless terror.

Everything he possessed now was thanks to having pleased Princess Taiping. In his world, so long as the princess was happy, he could command wind and rain as he wished. He had risen from a destitute itinerant merchant to a wealthy black market lord, all because he gifted her a jar of Changbai Mountain snow toad oil, famed for its beauty-enhancing effects, which delighted her.

But human greed knows no bounds. He wanted more; commerce no longer satisfied his ambitions. The fortune he amassed could be squandered for three lifetimes, but he craved power, yearned to bring glory to his clan.

The appearance of the "Essay of Le Yi" stirred his covetousness. He knew that for someone of Princess Taiping’s stature, gold, silver, pearls, and jade meant nothing. Only unique treasures could catch her eye. The calligraphy of Wang Xizhi was unparalleled, without peer across ages. Every piece of his writing was a priceless masterpiece. The most precious were the "Preface to the Orchid Pavilion," hailed as the world’s finest running script, and the foremost formal script, the "Essay of Le Yi."

The "Preface to the Orchid Pavilion" lay buried in Emperor Taizong Li Shimin’s tomb, untouchable in the Tang dynasty, leaving only the "Essay of Le Yi" in the world of the living.

To obtain it, Jiang Bo spared no effort, even resorting to torture upon an innocent young girl.

He believed that not only had he fulfilled his commission, but possessing the "Essay of Le Yi" would earn him double merit, enough for Princess Taiping to view him in a new light. It was well known that the princess never overlooked those who pleased her; his ambitions would surely be realized.

But joy turned to sorrow; both merits vanished in an instant.

The princess’s ruthlessness toward those who thwarted her was equally notorious.

In just two days, Jiang Bo had not dared close his eyes, frightening himself into a wretched state. As he pondered how to remedy the situation, a commotion erupted in the courtyard outside.

“Master!” Someone dashed into the hall, stumbling and shouting, “Someone’s broken in!”

Pei Min knocked at the gates of Maple Leaf Court. The gatekeeper, a guard, though prepared for trouble, did not intend to make life difficult for a servant. Yet the guard, arrogant and dismissive, seeing Pei Min without an invitation card, unleashed a barrage of mockery, claiming his master was Youzhou’s preeminent merchant, not someone whom any nobody could just meet.

Pei Min ignored him, stepping through the gate and heading inside without a word.

The guard was immediately enraged. He was a local ruffian, hired for his muscle to guard wealthy households, always lamenting his lack of opportunity to prove himself. Seeing Pei Min’s slight frame, he reached to grab his wrist and arm, intending to hurl him out with wrestling techniques.

Pei Min, still walking, lightly pushed his left hand behind him.

The guard shrieked, falling straight backward. Pei Min had, as the guard stepped forward to seize him, deftly tapped the quadriceps tendon below the knee with the tip of his sword scabbard, causing a knee reflex—his front leg involuntarily kicked, throwing him off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

The surrounding guards, seeing trouble, grabbed their hardwood batons and rushed at Pei Min, swinging with force. These batons, potent yet non-lethal, were their favored tools for bullying others.

Facing eight guards attacking from all directions, Pei Min did not break his stride. His sword remained sheathed; with a casual flick, he used their momentum against them, causing their batons to collide and tangle, clattering like a practice bout. Before they could react, their arms went numb and their batons dropped to the ground—none escaped.

In the blink of an eye, Pei Min had struck eight times, each blow precise, hitting their numbness points.

The guards glanced at Pei Min’s still-sheathed sword, thinking: Had he drawn his blade earlier, what hope would we have?

With no time to respond, the guards scattered.

Those who hadn’t arrived in time stopped in their tracks, adopting defensive stances from afar, not daring to approach.

Pei Min did not trouble them, advancing straight ahead. From the moment he entered, he hadn’t paused for a second.

The courtyard guards were mere watchmen; the true experts were Jiang Bo’s retainers—his real power.

A staff-wielding retainer arrived, spinning his iron staff as he leapt, striking down fiercely, shouting, “You impudent brat—ah…” His “brat” was cut short as Pei Min’s arm flicked, sending the scabbard flying like a hidden weapon, striking the man’s ankle. With no foothold in the air, he crashed down with a thud and promptly lost consciousness.

The scabbard, encountering resistance, rebounded toward Pei Min. He extended his sword, and the scabbard slid perfectly back into place.

Two more came to block him; Pei Min still kept his sword sheathed, striking left and right as he walked, forcing them into awkward retreat, barely steadying themselves after stepping back thrice.

By now, Pei Min had reached the main hall. Nearly twenty yards traversed, none could halt his advance.

Jiang Bo’s corpulent figure appeared at the entrance. Seeing Pei Min charging forward, the terror he’d bottled up for two days erupted. Eyes bloodshot, he roared, “Seize him! Whoever takes him down gets fifty gold ingots!”

Heavy rewards bring bold men!

No sooner had Jiang Bo spoken than a voice shouted, “Nobody take this from me! I, Zhao Ming, will gladly accept those fifty gold ingots!”

A sword flashed through the air!

Pei Min’s swordsmanship was rare in all the land; from Zhao Ming’s strike, he could tell the man possessed some skill. Not daring to underestimate him, Pei Min drew the Autumn Water Sword, unleashing a dazzling move from his eclectic sword style.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Three linked strikes, their speed rivaling the lightning-fast blades of Gongsun Xi—none could surpass them!