Chapter 49: The Village Deep in the Mountains

Hearing the dialogue between Qiu Zhiqing and the restaurant waiter, Hong Qigong felt utterly dismayed. For the very first time in his life, he, a beggar, was being asked to play the host and treat someone to a meal!

No, wait, this was the second time. The first time had also been with this same fellow, who had even wanted him to pay for a meal at some place called the Yongjin Tower—a spot the old beggar usually only visited just to catch a whiff of the food from afar...

Watching the waiter scurry off toward the kitchen after acknowledging the order, Hong Qigong slammed a chicken bone down onto the table!

"Kid, now I truly believe you didn't deliberately come looking for the old beggar to ask for a favor!"

Why this sudden change of topic? Qiu Zhiqing was baffled. Operating on the principle of asking when in doubt, he inquired curiously, "Why does Qigong say that? I thought we had already moved past that topic!"

Qigong tore off another chicken leg, didn't bother asking if Qiu Zhiqing wanted any, and took a vicious bite straight into it before replying with a huff, "Because nobody asking a favor adopts this kind of attitude..."

Qiu Zhiqing tucked his hands into his sleeves, rubbed his horsetail whisk with a trace of embarrassment in his heart, and said righteously, "Qigong, you're lacking in vision here, truly lacking!"

Hong Qigong simply stared at Qiu Zhiqing, continuing to gnaw on his chicken leg with an expression that clearly said, *Go on, I'll just quietly watch you put on an act...*

With no other choice—since Qigong refused to take the bait, the atmosphere turned awkward for a moment. Still, he, Qiu Zhiqing, as the dignified third-generation head disciple of the Quanzhen Sect, had his pride! He couldn't just freeload a meal without giving something in return, could he?

"Ahem~ Think about it, Qigong: you're merely treating me to three steamed buns and a pot of tea, but what I'm treating you to is a lavish imperial banquet of the Jin Dynasty! When you put it that way, doesn't the roast chicken in your hand suddenly smell a bit more appetizing?"

"Pfft~~" Hong Qigong let out a thoroughly unimpressed scoff. "As if I couldn't eat it without your invitation? Did you pay for it, or did you cook it?"

Very well, as long as normal communication was possible, that was fine—refusing to converse at all would be the real trouble!

"That's completely different! Right now, the Jin Dynasty is on its last legs and might collapse at any moment. If not for my warning today, tsk tsk tsk~~~"

Qigong fell silent in thought. Although these words sounded somewhat reasonable on the surface, something still felt a bit off...

"Fine! This meal is on this old beggar!"

"Waiter, bring another plate of braised fish!"

Hong Qigong: "..."

As it turned out, earlier that year, the Mongols had suffered repeated defeats in several campaigns against the Jin Dynasty, while the Southern Song's stance remained ambiguous. Consequently, the Mongols intended to demand a passage through Hanzhong in Southern Song territory to attack Nanyang and other regions belonging to the Jin, only to be refused by the Southern Song.

For the past few months, Hong Qigong had been roaming Xichuan precisely to deliver the intelligence—that the Mongols intended to forcibly cross Hanzhong to strike the Jin from the rear—to Gui Ruyuan, the Pacification Commissioner of Sichuan. To his disappointment, Gui Ruyuan was as cowardly as a mouse; far from mounting an active defense, he chose to cringe and seek a dishonorable compromise...

In the end, this failed to satisfy the Mongols' appetite. Not only did they swallow the grain and provisions provided by Gui Ruyuan, but they also seized Xichuan and Hanzhong one after another, plundering the Sichuan Basin. Yet instead of resisting, Gui Ruyuan fled and hid in Hezhou...

This had infuriated Hong Qigong. With the situation beyond redemption, he had no choice but to head back to the Central Plains, never expecting to run into Qiu Zhiqing—who had finally managed to descend the mountain—right here within the borders of Lantian, only to be scammed into treating him to a meal.

***

Having eaten and drunk their fill, the two men set off under the moonlight. Qiu Zhiqing was quite curious: why didn't Hong Qigong ever stay at an inn? He was promptly shut down by Hong Qigong's reply of "No money!"—because he had no money either...

Yet, when he thought about it, didn't martial heroes wandering the pugilistic world always drop by some mountain stronghold to grind for experience and loot? Surely they wouldn't worry about lacking funds?

When he voiced this suggestion to Hong Qigong, he immediately received a heavy roll of the eyes: "In this day and age, amidst the chaos of war, while the strongholds you speak of are indeed numerous, most of them are merely refugees who have fled into the mountains to scrape by. Aside from a few exceptionally vicious gangs, the vast majority of those strongholds are even poorer than we are!"

Afterward, Hong Qigong asked, "We're heading to Bianliang; shouldn't we be taking the Tongguan route? Why are we walking through Wuguan?"

"Weren't you the one heading this way, Elder, which is why this humble Daoist simply followed along?"

Following that, the two traveled through mountain forests, eventually detouring toward the northeast in the direction of Luonan. Eager to test his companion, Hong Qigong broke into a sprint using his lightness skill, tearing through the woods with the speed of a galloping steed...

With their level of martial arts, naturally neither of them feared traveling by night. As for ghosts and apparitions—wasn't there a Daoist priest right by his side? What they actually feared was losing their way, exactly as was happening right now...

With the moon high in the center of the sky, the two men refused to stop even though they had lost their bearings, continuing to sprint using their lightness skills! Suddenly, they spotted a blinding pillar of fire erupting from a mountain valley ahead!

Exchanging a glance with Hong Qigong, the two swiftly flew forward to investigate and discovered a troop of Mongol soldiers launching an assault on a village.

Without a second word, the two leaped into the fray to provide assistance. The valley was too confined for large-scale maneuvers, and these Mongols were all dismounted for close-quarters infantry combat. By the time Hong Qigong and Qiu Zhiqing arrived, only a small squad of cavalrymen remained at the village entrance guarding the horses, while the rest had already broken into the settlement!

Without the slightest hesitation, their long swords flashed from their scabbards. Within the span of three or five breaths, the firelight reflected off the cold steel as it sliced through the throats of the Mongol cavalrymen, severed their newly drawn bowstrings, and choked off the battle cries gathering in their chests. All ten members of the cavalry squad collapsed from their saddles on their own...

Compared to the bloody efficiency on Qiu Zhiqing's side, Qigong's end was far more effortless. Blowing gently on his fingertips, Hong Qigong cast a smug look at Qiu Zhiqing before charging deeper into the village!

Meanwhile, the squad of sword-wielding and bow-drawing Mongol soldiers on Qigong's side only then slumped softly off their horses, bearing not a single external wound on their bodies, as though they had simply grown tired from riding and fallen asleep as they tumbled to the ground.

Seeing Qigong press forward into the village, Qiu Zhiqing hurried to keep pace. By this time, the village had dissolved into utter chaos, with figures constantly collapsing into pools of blood...

Curiously, the ones falling in pools of blood were almost exclusively Mongol soldiers. The architectural layout of this village was quite distinctive: the walls were constructed from a mixture of yellow clay and bluestone, and the alleyways possessed almost no straight lines, featuring numerous sharp turns!

As Qiu Zhiqing and Qigong dashed into the settlement, they noticed that arrows rained down intermittently from the narrow alleys where at most three people could walk abreast. In this tiny village, there was actually a considerable stockpile of bows and arrows!

Without further hesitation, Qiu Zhiqing raised his sword to charge, but Hong Qigong reached out and pulled him back, signaling for him to watch!

He saw Hong Qigong take half a step forward and lean his upper body slightly backward. At that exact moment, two Mongol soldiers also spotted the old man and the youth behind them, brandishing their sabers as they slashed toward Hong Qigong...

Noticing that Qigong was still building up his internal energy, Qiu Zhiqing couldn't help muttering internally: *Why is the animation wind-up for this skill so long?*

Complaints aside, he couldn't let them interrupt Qigong's spell-casting. Flicking his sleeve, a surge of palm force directly batted the aggressively charging Mongol soldiers flying...

At that moment, Qigong finally completed his energy channeling, unleashing a mighty roar: "Kid, let the old beggar show you the 'Startling Hundred Li'!"

***

With that, he thrust both palms forward, and a tyrannical wave of palm force swept horizontally all the way down the alley. Any Mongol soldier touched by it died instantly, and anyone grazed by it perished... In the previously clamorous little village, only a few scattered sounds of clashing weapons remained...

Hong Qigong rubbed the bridge of his nose with his right thumb, casting a smug, triumphant look at Qiu Zhiqing!

Swallowing hard, Qiu Zhiqing privately doubted he could pull off a move of that caliber, so he praised, "Impressive, Qigong! Your palm force even managed to produce the sound of a squealing pig!"

Hong Qigong's steps—taken as he was about to clear out the remaining soldiers—stuttered for a fraction of a second before he sped up even faster...

Qiu Zhiqing strode forward, delivering finishing blows along the way to eliminate any lingering enemies! At this point, the complex terrain of the village played a critical role—Qiu Zhiqing was lost!

With no other choice, he simply dashed toward wherever the sounds of shouting and killing echoed! Before long, having seemingly reached the center of the village, Qiu Zhiqing faintly heard the cries of children coming from the next alley over. There was more than one voice, interspersed with shouts and curses.

A thought stirred in his mind, and he vaulted upward, leaping onto the adjacent rooftop.

This was a building resembling an ancestral hall. The central hall was lined with ancestral memorial tablets, and around a hundred children around ten years of age were gathered at the back, guarded by over a dozen men wielding broadswords!

Qiu Zhiqing felt a mild curiosity, though his primary thought was simply to find someone who could guide him out so he could finish off the remaining Mongol soldiers.

He leaped down! The moment Qiu Zhiqing landed, before he could even utter a word, three broadswords lunged toward him simultaneously from three different angles, targeting his upper, middle, and lower body! Having just touched the ground, Qiu Zhiqing executed an aerial backflip while simultaneously flicking his horsetail whisk, utilizing a soft internal force to send his three ambushers flying.

"Misunderstanding, a complete misunderstanding! This poor Daoist is here to help everyone fend off the Mongol Tatars..."

His explanation failed to make these men relent; instead, they swarmed him all at once! It was evident that these broadsword-wielding men were employing military combined-attack formations!

Yet, what kind of person was Qiu Zhiqing? Realizing that words were useless and that every single one of these strikes meant business, he had no intention of fighting and explaining simultaneously. Seeing over a dozen opponents surge toward him in a fan-shaped pincer movement, he knew this matter could not be resolved peacefully!

However, the notion of them surrounding him was entirely out of the question. Instead of retreating, Qiu Zhiqing pressed forward. The men in front swung their sabers simultaneously—the same old routine targeting his upper, middle, and lower body...

"You never learn!" Qiu Zhiqing scoffed, rolling horizontally into the air and tapping his toes rapidly against the ground. Instantly, four men were sent flying backward, bouncing a few times upon hitting the ground before lying completely still...

Don't misunderstand—they weren't dead, just hit with acupressure strikes!

Four sabers came down at the same time, but fast as they were, Qiu Zhiqing was faster. Landing on his feet, he swept his horsetail whisk, sending all four crashing to the ground simultaneously! Qiu Zhiqing smoothly sealed their acupoints while three more men immediately met the same fate.

The remaining three saw that the situation was turning south and attempted to bolt, but how could Qiu Zhiqing let them escape...?