Chapter 51: Encounter with Zhu Shimei

“Big Brother is right. The changes in our stronghold over the past few months have been remarkable. Honestly, I can hardly believe it myself. We used to have only two first-class experts, and now there are eight. There will certainly be more in the future,” Huang Yuantao remarked with a sigh.

“All these changes were brought about by Xian’er. He’s done so much for our stronghold, all to its benefit. Surely, you can’t still harbor doubts about him?” Ye Qingyun asked Huang Yuantao.

“Not at all. I was just a bit surprised in the beginning, out of concern for the stronghold. I have no complaints about Nephew Fang himself,” Huang Yuantao replied quickly.

“Good. For this trip, I’ll trouble you, Third Brother. Take Shuhua with you, let him get familiar with things—later, we can entrust such tasks to the younger generation. Also, ask General Wei whether, now that we’ve annexed the Crouching Tiger Stronghold, the second batch of supplies should be delivered. Otherwise, our expansion will stall,” Ye Qingyun instructed him.

“Don’t worry, Big Brother. I’ll bring it up. Only three of the five great strongholds remain, and they’re tough nuts to crack. Without proper supplies, it’ll be hard to swallow them. After all, unifying the strongholds of the Daba Mountains is also what the Ninth Prince wants,” Huang Yuantao nodded. These matters had been discussed before; he wouldn’t stand in the way.

“Father, do you think there’s any danger in Xian-ge sneaking into the assembly of the strongholds?” After Huang Yuantao left, Ye Hongxiu emerged from behind, worry etched on her face.

“Don’t worry. If Xian’er dares to go, he must have confidence. Besides, hasn’t the chief of Flying Phoenix Ridge just broken through to Grandmaster? I trust she’ll look after him too,” Ye Qingyun replied with a smile.

“I believe in Xian-ge as well. Who knows, maybe he’ll bring us another unexpected surprise,” Ye Hongxiu nodded.

Little did she know her words would prove prophetic—Fang Xian did encounter an unexpected turn at the assembly, though once again, he found himself compelled by circumstance.

“Brother Xian, the assembly will be held in South Li Stronghold three days from now. It’s convened jointly by Zhu Jiu-zhong of South Li, Tang Zhi of Peach Mountain, and Lei Bupo of Thunder Ridge, with over thirty strongholds participating,” Feng Ling soon brought word to Fang Xian.

“Sister Feng—no, Sister Ling, let me accompany you. I’ll use the name Fang Mingda, your distant cousin,” Fang Xian said, catching himself and correcting the address, though Feng Ling seemed not to notice.

Three days later, Fang Xian followed Feng Ling, with Zhou Zhihua leading fifty Flying Phoenix Ridge soldiers, heading for South Li Stronghold. Liu Wu remained behind to guard their own base.

The journey from Flying Phoenix Ridge to South Li covered more than twenty li, winding through dense forests. As they traveled, they hunted some wild game, though Fang Xian took no interest in common prey.

After covering much of the distance, the thundering of hooves suddenly erupted from the woods. Five or six riders appeared, led by a young girl seemingly just a bit older than Ye Hongxiu.

“Surround it, don’t let it get away!” At her shout, it became clear they were chasing something. Fang Xian’s sharp eyes soon spotted a plump wild deer a thousand meters away.

The deer was strong and swift, darting through the forest with ease. The riders couldn’t keep up, and their arrows failed to find their mark.

“What a fine deer! Little brother, why not show them what you can do?” Feng Ling laughed, knowing Fang Xian’s legendary archery.

“Seems they won’t catch it. The deer is ours now,” Fang Xian observed as it broke through their encirclement, heading for the depths of the forest.

He drew his divine-arm bow, a three-stone hard bow exchanged from the system, not even needing to aim. With a twang, an arrow flew a thousand meters and pierced straight through the deer’s neck, stunning the onlookers.

“Go fetch it,” Feng Ling ordered. Zhou Zhihua and a few soldiers galloped off to retrieve the deer.

But the young girl and her party soon approached. “That was our quarry. Why did you take our game?”

“Little sister, you’d already lost it. Were your arrows ever going to hit it? We didn’t steal your prey; we only felled it as it tried to escape. It’s ours now,” Feng Ling replied with a smile.

“Which stronghold are you from? Are you here for the assembly too?” the girl asked, glancing over Fang Xian and the others.

“I am Feng Ling, chief of Flying Phoenix Ridge. Are you from South Li Stronghold?” Feng Ling responded, noting the girl’s agile bearing and guessing her skill was not to be underestimated.

“Greetings, Sister Feng. I am Zhu Shimei of South Li Stronghold—Zhu Jiu-zhong is my brother.” The girl returned the courtesy. She was indeed the sister of South Li’s chief, though her name, Zhu Tenth Sister, nearly made Fang Xian laugh.

“I heard the chief of South Li has a sister training with the Daoist Sect. Is that you?” Feng Ling asked in surprise.

“Yes. I went to study with the sect at eight and have just returned. I’m surprised you’ve heard of me,” Zhu Shimei replied, falling easily into conversation with Feng Ling.

The matter of the deer was dropped, and they rode on together. Fang Xian and Zhou Zhihua kept to the rear, and before long, they reached South Li Stronghold.

“Sister Shimei, why not take the deer as a gift?” Feng Ling offered with a smile.

“Who is he? His archery is astonishing—is he especially gifted?” Zhu Shimei asked, glancing at Fang Xian.

“He’s my distant cousin, Fang Mingda. He’s a first-rate fighter, master archer, skilled healer, and a scholar. I invited him specifically to assist me,” Feng Ling replied, noticing Zhu Shimei’s interest.

“Among the younger disciples of the Daoist Sect, many are stronger, but none match his archery.” Zhu Shimei smiled, then left with the deer.

With a guide from South Li, Feng Ling’s group was shown to a small, separate courtyard. It was a bit cramped for so many, so Feng Ling paid it no mind and had Fang Xian share her room.

“Chief, I’ve learned that several strongholds have already arrived. The assembly begins tomorrow, but this afternoon South Li is hosting a martial contest to gauge the strength of the various participants,” Zhou Zhihua reported after scouting during lunch.

“Oh? Brother Xian, would you care to see how the others measure up?” Feng Ling asked.

“I have nothing else to do—let’s go. It’ll be good to see what kind of experts each stronghold has and gather some information for future unification,” Fang Xian replied.

After lunch and a brief rest, the sound of cheers drew them from their quarters to the contest stage, where two young men were fighting.

Fang Xian quickly saw both were third-rate fighters in their early twenties. Their skills weren’t extraordinary, but their forms were decent.

“Over here, Sister Feng, come sit,” Zhu Shimei called from a raised platform, where she sat alone. Seeing them arrive, she beckoned them over.

They joined her on the platform, Feng Ling sitting beside Zhu Shimei, with Fang Xian to her other side, smiling as he watched the contest.

Soon, chiefs from other strongholds arrived and were also invited up, though Zhu Jiu-zhong of South Li, Tang Zhi of Peach Mountain, and Lei Bupo of Thunder Ridge were absent.

At first, the contestants were mostly young third-rate fighters, but as the matches went on, second-rate experts began to take the stage, each challenging warriors from other strongholds.