A Twisted Fate in the Martial World? Author: Red Rope Purple Belt [Full Text]

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Part One: The Four Great Lechers

Chapter One: The Night Fog Approaches, Will Your Abode Be Able to Contain It?

The moon is bright and the stars are few; the clear moonlight spreads like water, adding a touch of tranquility to the quiet forest.

At midnight, thoughts turn to seclusion, the winding path leading further and further. The secluded forest path seems like a road to be explored, reminiscent of the path of the Five Willows of Jin Dynasty, where one can be quiet and detached from fame and fortune; or like Qu Yuan wandering by the riverbank, lamenting his life, spontaneously giving rise to the indomitable spirit of "The road ahead is long and arduous, I will search high and low."

A night breeze gently blows, adding moisture to the forest, and fog is about to rise. The hazy fog slowly spreads, as if draping the forest in a layer of mystery, making one feel as if in a dream, with everything becoming blurred and unclear.

A traveler approached slowly from afar, seemingly unwilling to disturb the tranquility of the forest. His horse, with light hooves, moved unhurriedly towards the dimly lit wooden cabin halfway up the mountain, apparently intending to spend the night there.

The man tethered his horse, fed it some hay, and then strode towards the cabin. He was dressed in blue, with delicate features, appearing to be seventeen or eighteen years old, possessing a youthful spirit that was quite endearing, yet his demeanor was composed and experienced, as if he were a seasoned veteran who had weathered decades of trials.

"Clang, clang, clang!"

"The mountain path is rugged, the mist is damp and cold, could I ask for lodging for the night?"

"Go elsewhere, this place is full!" a slightly rough voice rang out, sounding unrestrained and confident.

The young man smiled slightly, then pushed open the door and entered. The cabin was small and somewhat dilapidated, empty except for a few pieces of firewood and hay. A campfire flickered in the center of the cabin, radiating precious warmth. Without waiting for the man to stop him, the young man put down his luggage and walked to the fire, sitting down opposite the man and calmly warming himself by the fire.

The man wanted to scold him, but the young man had already sat down and, judging from his posture, clearly wouldn't leave, so he just glanced at him and said nothing more.

This wooden hut actually had no owner; it was just a place for travelers on mountain trails to rest. The hut was built at the foot of the mountain, beside the road, very conspicuous, and easily spotted by passersby. In times of peace and prosperity, there might have been some rice and water inside, which travelers could temporarily use and return later. But now, the people were impoverished, famine raged, and the Song Dynasty was on its last legs. Even if there had been some rice here before, it would have long been eaten up.

Fortunately, those who travel deep into the mountains believe in "mountains and rivers leading to hidden places." Although there was no rice, some firewood could still be replenished, and when people occasionally passed by to take shelter from the rain and stay overnight, they would scatter some insect repellent, preventing the place from becoming completely abandoned.

Clearly, both the man and the young man were seasoned travelers, and they understood each other's unusual nature at a glance. They tacitly avoided conflict, and thus remained at peace.

The young man warmed himself by the fire for a while, drying off the moisture, then took a blanket from his luggage and spread it on the dry grass beneath him. He turned and opened his bundle, carefully taking out several sealed oil paper packets. Inside were peanuts, broad beans, dried bean curd, and other small dishes. Under the man's slightly curious gaze, the young man placed several vegetarian dishes in front of him, then miraculously produced a palm-sized porcelain bottle from his left sleeve. The man's
eyes lit up when he saw the bottle, and his tense expression softened considerably. He seemed to want to say something but couldn't bring himself to do so. Seeing the young man take out a small wine cup, he didn't hesitate any longer and said softly, "Wait!"

The young man looked up at the man and hesitated, "Brother, what can I do for you?"

"Hmm, I wouldn't presume to offer advice. I noticed you're eating rather bland food, young man. I have some beef here, hmm, if you don't mind, why not try

some?" The young man saw that the man was stammering and somewhat absent-minded, and seeing his eyes, he immediately understood. He put down the wine cup and smiled, "Thank you for your kindness, brother. I have nothing to repay you with but this wine." With that, he tossed the porcelain bottle in his hand to the man.

The man quickly took the bottle, then hesitated, a little embarrassed, and said, "Young man, you've given it all to me, what do you want to drink?"

The young man waved his hand, cut off a slice of cooked beef the man had tossed him, chewed it, and said, "I don't usually drink. If it weren't for the cold and damp weather today, I wouldn't drink to ward off the cold. But now, with this fire from you, brother, I might as well not drink."

"Hehe, that's good, that's good. Don't be offended, young man, I just like this." The big man chuckled, stuffing the bottle into his pocket, as if reluctant to drink it all at once, wanting to save it for later. "The beef is quite fresh, isn't it? I just bought it yesterday before leaving the city."

"Hmm, not bad, the gamey smell is completely gone, and there's even a faint floral fragrance, just to my liking."

The man's eyes flashed, he chuckled, then lay down on the dry grass, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes, pretending to doze off.

The fire crackled and burned, dispelling the damp chill of the thick fog. The young man sat quietly, occasionally cutting off a piece of beef and putting it in his mouth, eating with relish. But for some reason, the two didn't speak again, as if they had never met.

The man lay sprawled on the hay, snoring softly, seemingly asleep. The young man continued eating his beef, making smacking noises, but his eyes had somehow become cold.

He finished his beef, then repacked the remaining side dishes and put them in his bag. Seemingly tired, he yawned and turned to walk into a corner.

The man, who had been asleep, opened his eyes at some point, staring intently at the young man's back, his eyes slightly narrowed. He saw a few glints of silver flash from the young man's left sleeve.

A burnt smell wafted through the air, and upon closer sniffing, it came from the fire. The young man, however, seemed oblivious, tidied his little corner, and lay down to rest. Only the man stared silently at the small pile of charred beef in the flames, a strange smile slowly spreading across his lips, as if he were quite interested.

The man didn't like wine, and the young man didn't like meat; wine was nectar, meat was poisonous.

...

The wind howled, thick fog obscured faces; if one went out now, they would be soaked through in no time, and given the cold, slightly poisonous fog, catching a cold would be inevitable.

The young man leaned against the wall, breathing evenly, his expression serene, as if he were asleep. But he knew that not only was he awake, but the man opposite him couldn't be either.

He was observing him; he knew it, and the man was observing him too.

The young man knew he had encountered a ruthless and vicious opponent, and what was even more troublesome was that this ruthlessness was accompanied by extreme cunning. Insidious and vicious, cunning as a fox, suspicious yet arrogantly confident. In peaceful times, such a person would merely become an outlaw, wanted and arrested by the court, causing no real trouble. However, in chaotic times, if such a person gains power,

he would undoubtedly become a powerful figure. Just like Cao Cao during the Three Kingdoms period. Thinking of this, the young man cursed himself for overthinking. It was all because that old storyteller on the roadside a couple of days ago was so persuasive; he, a dignified envoy of the Demonic Sect, had actually stood there listening for so long, truly unworthy of the titles of one of the three great Flower-Picking Envoys of the Jianghu and Little Divine Doctor.

Despite his thoughts, the young man's attention remained fixed on the man opposite him. He was a lecherous thief, and a seasoned veteran of the Jianghu with over twenty years of experience. Beneath his youthful appearance lay a fox-like shrewdness. Countless attempts to scoop the moon's reflection from a well and explore the depths of a cave had made his observation skills incredibly sharp; even with his eyes closed, the man's every move was imperceptible to him. The young man's breathing grew longer, completely absorbed in this unique game. He was very confident in himself!

The man lay supine on the thick layer of dry grass, his muscular body pressed deep into the stalks, like a stone statue. He was a bandit, or more precisely, one of the leaders of Jiuzhaigou, a rising force before the chaos of war. Having roamed the north and south for decades, starting from nothing, he had built a vast empire to oppose the imperial court—no ordinary bandit was easy to deal with. Lying there, he resembled a sleeping beast, ready to bare its fangs and devour its prey at any moment.

The once-blazing campfire gradually dwindled to a small flame, and the air grew cold. In the small wooden hut, an inexplicable atmosphere slowly brewed and accumulated, like an invisible cloud that, when accumulated, became oppressive.

The howling sea wind, carrying thick moisture, swept through the forest, countless droplets falling from the trees and then settling on the dust, like a brief journey, a fleeting cycle.

The night wind swept through, the moisture thick and humid, soaking the entire forest. The simple wooden hut resembled an old man fishing in the drizzle, sitting there for who knows how many years. Water droplets dripped from the broken tiles, making the eaves appear even deeper, like a trap brewing for many years.

"Thump, thump, thump!"

"The night wind rages, a thick fog is approaching, I wonder if your esteemed dwelling can hold it?"

...

Alone on the road, in a cold raincoat, I suddenly look back, and all I see is wind and rain.

Chapter Two: Grass, Smoke, and Clouds Surge After the Storm

The coastal climate is changeable, the wind and rain unpredictable, just like this forest swallowed and ravaged by thick fog. It is supposed to be springtime, yet there is no trace of spring.

The wooden hut still creaked; if not for the protection of the trees, it would have long been blown away by the sea wind. Water droplets dripped from the broken tiles and thatch, the campfire still burned, but two more people had appeared inside.

The young man glanced at the couple. The man appeared to be eighteen or nineteen, much like himself now, dressed as a scholar, with elegant manners and impeccable manners. In this world, such well-mannered and pure scholars were a rare sight. The woman was a beautiful young woman of sixteen, seemingly a maidservant. However, lacking experience, she clearly didn't know how to conceal her abilities. Anyone with a little experience could immediately tell that she possessed considerable martial arts skills, and the man opposite her had likely noticed it as well.

"My name is Zhao Ping. I am passing through this place on my way to the capital for the imperial examinations. May I ask your honorable names?" the scholar greeted the young man and the man with a familiar bow. "

What a bookworm," both the young man and the man thought simultaneously. The man even rolled over, not bothering to tidy himself up.

"No problem, my name is Zuo Jianqing," the young man replied with a smile.

"Brother Zuo, you seem to be a well-read man. Are you also going to Lin'an to take the imperial examination?"

"My father is bedridden and has entrusted me to go to Zhongnan Mountain to pay respects to our ancestors on his behalf.

" "Zhongnan Mountain is a long way away and located on the border between the Song and Jin dynasties. How can Brother Zuo go alone?" Zhao Ping asked in surprise.

Zuo Jianqing was a talkative man, and since he couldn't sleep tonight anyway, he was happy to banter with this bookworm. He sighed, his expression hardening considerably, and said, "Of all virtues, filial piety is paramount. The commands of one's parents, the spirits of one's ancestors—even amidst mountains and rivers, chaos and war, how can one abandon them?"

Zhao Ping, deeply moved, rose and bowed respectfully to Zuo Jianqing, sighing, "Brother Zuo, your filial piety

is truly admirable. I am ashamed and beg to accept your bow!" Zuo Jianqing's lips twitched, almost bursting into laughter, but he quickly suppressed it, saying solemnly, "Brother Zhao, your extensive knowledge and profound understanding are what I admire most."

"Brother Zuo flatters me," Zhao Ping replied. "Our Great Song Dynasty has countless talented individuals. I am not yet twenty, just beginning my examinations; how can I claim to be well-versed in literature? It's just that now, with the external... [a href=http://www.687bo.com target=_blank class=infotextkey>性访牛, 裆陮郑, 胶表涨埮靡环莨]

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A Twisted Fate in the Martial World? Author: Red Rope Purple Belt [Full Text]

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