Unparalleled Duo

Early summer, one day.

The setting sun was gradually leaning to the side, and on the great road in the suburbs of Hangzhou City, a carriage and a horse approached.

The carriage was a fine one—its axle sturdy, its hubs upright, and its carriage broad and splendidly decorated.

The horse was also a fine steed, with bright eyes and shiny mane, and limbs robust and body healthy.

Even the coachman who drove the carriage had the build of a tiger and the waist of a bear, eyes sparkling with intensity, clearly a person who practiced martial arts.

Without a doubt, the person sitting inside the carriage must have been either wealthy or noble, or perhaps a notable figure in the Martial Arts world.

The carriage was traveling fast, and before long, it approached a teahouse.

This teahouse was quite shabby, with neither clean nor tidy tea sets and tables and chairs both broken and old. The thatched roof above was like a sieve, letting light through, let alone being unable to fend off the rain.

By now, because it was dusk and the city gates were about to close, there were few people on the road, and thus only a single customer remained in the teahouse.

He sat there, leisurely sipping tea, in no particular hurry.

The teahouse owner, on the other hand, was packing up and glaring at the customer with disdain, as if he was on the verge of directly asking him to leave.

"Boss, another refill, please." Huang Donglai—the customer...seemed indifferent, unshamedly asking the owner to fill his cup again.

This "Huang Donglai" was none other than Mr. Huang who had traversed through time alongside Mr. Sun.

Although he had traversed through time along with Mr. Sun, he was born a few months later in this world; and in a different place—Mr. Sun was born in Hangzhou Prefecture of Jiangnan, while he was born in Fushun County of Shu (now known as Zigong).

Of course, Mr. Huang was not born into an ordinary family either, but into a renowned one.

In the Great Ming, the Huang Sect of Sichuan was a famous martial arts family, known throughout the land for the "Huang Sect's Three Excellences."

These "Three Excellences" were qinggong (light-body technique), hidden weapons, and poison use.

In their prime, people from the Huang family dominated the world with these three skills, and mentioning the "Huang Sect's Three Excellences" would cause anyone in the Martial Arts world to change color; at that time, whether it was reputation, power, or wealth, the Huang Sect was ranked at the top in the Sichuan region.

Regrettably, by the time of Huang Donglai's father's generation, the family had fallen on hard times and could no longer claim their former glory.

Still, as the saying goes, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse, and at least Huang Donglai's childhood was spent in relative comfort.

As for his name "Donglai," it draws from the phrase "auspicious aura from the east," because the night before Huang Donglai was born, both of his parents had a dream where they saw a large mass of purple clouds (poisonous fog) drifting from the east and hovering directly above their home, which they took as an auspicious sign. Hence, he was given this name upon birth.

A few months ago, Huang Donglai was sent by his father to Hangzhou to meet a certain Mr. Sun, bringing along a letter; it was only then that Huang Donglai learned that the Huang family head and Mr. Sun had been good friends in their youth. Unfortunately, the distance between Western Shu and Jiangnan was vast, and inconvenient for travel, besides, both men had family businesses to manage, so they had only corresponded through letters.

Normally, such a task of delivering a letter wouldn't require Huang Donglai to make the trip personally; it could have been handled by a local branch of the Flying Pigeon Gang. However, being a martial family, and Huang Donglai having turned seventeen, the Huang family head wanted to find an excuse for him to leave his hometown to gain some experience in the Jianghu (martial world).

So, this evening, Huang Donglai found himself here.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

In the moment the teahouse owner was about to shoo Huang Donglai away, a sudden disturbance occurred on the road before the teahouse.

Accompanied by a rustling sound of the wind being cut, several dozen arrows suddenly appeared from all directions in mid-air, showering down on the carriage as it moved forward.

Suddenly, the wheels screeched to a halt, hooves clattered, horses neighed.

The coachman did not panic from this; instead, he bent down, leapt onto the back of the horse, settled the reins with one hand, and with his other hand, pulled out a single-edged blade from the horse's saddle, and brandished it, easily deflecting the barrage of arrows from the front.

He, did not get hit by the arrows.

The horse, was also unscathed.

However, the carriage behind him was pierced with more than a dozen holes... But judging by the coachman's calm demeanor, it seemed he wasn't at all worried about the safety of those inside the carriage.

"My goodness!" As the arrow barrage ceased, the teahouse owner finally snapped back to reality and let out a shriek, diving to take cover behind a water tank next to the teahouse.

In this world, ordinary people often witnessed brawls and killings among martial artists, so they knew that in such situations it was best to hide or flee to avoid becoming collateral damage.

"Wow—looks like there are at least seven or eight people lying in ambush," Huang Donglai commented without much reaction, not even standing up from his chair but casually picking up the large teapot that the owner had left on the table, refilling his teacup.

"You little fool! Don't you value your life? Why don't you hide somewhere farther away?" The teahouse owner, out of kindness, gave Huang Donglai a low warning when he saw him sitting there so nonchalantly.

"Hey, Boss, don't panic, those arrows weren't aimed at us," Huang Donglai said as he took another sip of his tea.

While they were exchanging those words, exactly as Huang Donglai had predicted, eight masked men leaped out of the trees on both sides of the road, surrounding the carriage in the middle in the blink of an eye.

"Hmph... Who are these rats?" The coachman, seeing himself surrounded, was still fearless and snorted coldly, "Do you know who's in the carriage?"

A moment later, one of the masked men stepped forward and replied with a sneer, "Heh... What do you think?"

It appears that this man was the leader of the attackers.

As the common saying goes, "To catch the bandits, first catch their king," and this principle was clearly understood by the coachman. So, without much hesitation, almost in the instant after the other's response, he leaped from the horse, gathered strength in his wrist, and with a slashing chop aimed at the crown of the leader's head, executed a move called "Splitting Huashan."

"Good sword skill!" Huang Donglai, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but praise aloud. "While simple, this move truly isn't something those third-rate fighters could withstand."

His words had barely faded when the masked leader had already caught the coachman's blade—not with a weapon, but with the bare-handed technique of "empty-handed blade entry."

"Wow! Not bad at all," Huang Donglai marveled. "A combination of Inner Strength from the darker paths and a foundation in soft skills, I guess."

As he spoke, the coachman and the leader exchanged a few more moves; the former's sword skill was fierce and powerful, the latter's fists and palms were elusive. It was apparent these two were closely matched in martial arts, and within fifty moves, it was unlikely that there would be a clear winner.

Meanwhile, the remaining seven masked men did not bother to assist their leader, but moved closer to the carriage... It seemed they wanted to confirm whether the person inside had perished or not.

"Hey, what's the rush? Even if the person inside is still alive, it wouldn't be difficult for so many of you to take him down," Huang Donglai commented nonchalantly upon seeing the cautious attackers, reluctant to draw back the bamboo curtain of the carriage.

"Hey, you lunatic! What are you meddling in? This has nothing to do with you, are you seeking death?" The teahouse owner could hardly stand it any longer; he again scolded Huang Donglai in a hushed voice from a few meters away.

"Not really, I'm merely commenting a bit, what's wrong with that?" Huang Donglai turned around to look at the teahouse owner, defending his actions, "I just happen to like blurting out whatever I see, it's harmless, right? I'm not taking part in the fight, are they going to fine me just for commenting?"

Saying this, he seemed to be getting more into it, turned his head back towards the masked men near the carriage, raising his voice, "Hey, I'm telling you to go for it! How could you lose in a seven-against-one situation? Just go for the face and you'll win—how could you possibly lose?"

"Shut up!" Finally, one of the masked men, annoyed beyond endurance, turned his glare on him and barked fiercely.

"What's wrong?" Huang Donglai was not intimidated at all and kept talking, "Damn it! I'm a professional commentator, okay? You can't understand the situation, so I'm giving you an analysis..."

"Fuck!" The masked man, unable to bear Huang Donglai's nagging any longer, swore and charged towards him, "I'll teach you to be long-winded!" As he spoke, he raised a hand, intending to slap Huang Donglai to death with a palm strike.

However...

"Phew—"

His hand hadn't even come down when a mouthful of blood had already sprayed out of his mouth, staining the black cloth he used to cover his face.

Then, he fell backward, face up to the sky, never to get up again...

"Heh... thought you could kill me? You thought too much," Huang Donglai sat still, not having moved at all, the masked man didn't even know how he had made his move before dying by his hand.