Martial King's Retired Life

Volume 8 70 Cowherd and Weaver An Atypical Romance (Part 2)

Volume 8 Chapter 70 Cowherd and Weaver - An Atypical Romance (Part 2)

Those standing around thought their eyes were just playing tricks on them when the moving items, mobile people and wind ceased, while Ming Feizhen was the only one silently moving. Ming Feizhen suddenly stopped on a street as the unique scent faded.

Ming Feizhen wagged his hand, ushering a faint pink smoke towards his hand. The fact that there was so little left in a considerably narrower range meant that the kidnapper prepared to enter their hideout once they reached that spot and then dispersed what they could still smell with their hand.

Given I can still find this much means that the palm strike shouldn’t be underestimated.

Even though there were flickering flames in his eyes, Ming Feizhen calmly rolled the aroma he collected on his hand starting from Luo Sword Manor’s estate, turning it into a tiny ball. Because of the pink smoke, what should’ve been an invisible ball of gas became a small pink ball. He gently chucked the small ball up then flicked out his celestial spider silk, producing a qi ripple.

“Demon King Thread - Kill.”

The threads penetrated through the small ball, spreading true qi thousands of times thinner than Ming Feizhen’s threads. Mist poured out from the ball in an omnidirectional manner as though a hail of arrows punctured it. Ming Feizhen, watching them, robotically pulled his head over and down.

The light that was devoured moments ago returned, and the flow of time returned, though nobody realised there was an extra person joining them on the street prior to the freeze. He did not use Divine Realm’s Eclipse to hide his presence or appearance. It was not light-speed qingong. It was a mental cultivation technique from the manual that only three people ever managed to learn - Spring Wind Rainy Night Divine Art.

Ming Feizhen used aforementioned technique when Baima and company tried to intercept him as he attempted to descend the mountain after the scuffle at Lawless Cliff. Ever since Ximen Chuideng’s demise, Ming Feizhen never utilised the technique again as he couldn’t control the raging bloodlust that he couldn’t bring under control once it manifested in him.

Over the last five years since escaping the encirclement at Lawless Cliff, Ming Feizhen’s development allowed him to maintain a bit of the bloodlust after the red glow in his eyes receded, while the mental training he put himself through and the life experiences, lessons taught him enough to maintain his calmness. At the very least, he didn’t need to go on a trigger happy murder spree right away.

Ming Feizhen silently waited at the entrance to a restaurant, ears tuning in to every movement and brain rifling through information, for the rings of mist he spread to drift to the edge of the two and a half square kilometres boundary - the max distance he could disperse it. Only the kidnapper would be able to smell the scent they left behind. Hence, he needed to wait for said individual’s true qi to react to it in order to locate their position.

“Who the hell are you? You’re dissuading my customers from coming in!” A man behind Ming Feizhen tried to pull him away, only to be thrown over Ming Feizhen’s shoulder, thereby coming face to face with the latter. “You!”

The man who tried to drive off Ming Feizhen was none other than Mr. Qian, whom challenged Ming Feiyuan’s identity as Zhong Hualiu’s younger son at Dragon Phoenix Inn. Ming Feizhen wasn’t sitting in front of a restaurant. He was sitting in front of Eternal Stay Swallow Brothel, Proprietor Qian’s new brothel.

“You’re here to start trouble again?!”

Busy, Ming Feizhen simply replied, “Bye.”

He looks really down unlike the last time I saw him. I wonder if it has anything to with the new Mr. Li at Dragon Phoenix Inn who’s supposedly running the entire place now. I wonder if Zhong Ming got kicked out, hehehe.

“Young man, you have to suffer when you’re young. Since you don’t have anywhere to go now, you can come here.”

Upon meeting eyes with Ming Feizhen, Proprietor Qian shivered as if someone poured freezing water down the nape of his neck. Had Ming Feizhen meant to inflict harm in that split second their eyes met, Proprietor Qian would’ve been bed ridden. Despite the spooky experience, Proprietor Qian told himself his mind was just playing tricks on him.

“Young Master, I wasn’t prepared, while you had the home ground advantage. My loss was comparable to trying to cross the river with a hole in my boat. You have the guts to compete again?”

“Whatever.” Ming Feizhen dismissed whatever was said as his focus was on analysing the influx of information to locate Shen Yiren’s kidnapper.

“Brave soul!”

You’re distracted and brain fried because you’ve been kicked out, so I’m going to throw you something you need to concentrate hard for.

“Since we work with women, we must have an eye for them, so let’s put our judgement to the test.” Proprietor Qian clapped three times and hollered, “Girls.”

The girls working at the brothel filed out in scant clothing despite the winter chill outside. He whispered something in their ears, prompting them to head inside and then come back giddily with a sheet of white cloth each.

“Young Master Zhong, look at their… pair of moons behind the white cloths, and let’s see who has better judgement.”

Guessing things behind veils was a common game genre in brothels for entertainment. Using a white cloth was just Proprietor Qian’s way of cheating because they were his girls; he should be expected to know what his girls’ appearances and measurements were.

“I’ll st-”

Without looking, Ming Feizhen pointed to one of the girls: “First one, hand-sized.”

“Wh-what?”

The maiden’s face resembled a red tomato.

“Second, light and small. Third, thirteen years old. Fourth, ripe and heavy. Fifth, voluptuous and fragrant. Sixth, round and beautiful. Seventh, hot, soft and blemish free. Eighth, curvaceous and luscious. Ninth, supple and soft. Tenth, perky and firm.”

Ming Feizhen went through them so quick that only one of them managed to enunciate, “Correct.”

“H-h-how did you know?!”

The answer? Ming Feizhen’s enhanced hearing and smell. He didn’t know the specifics, but he could conjure images with the limited information. Of course, he used his eyes to a degree. Most importantly, though, was… experience.

“I’m done with your game. Can I leave now?”

Proprietor Qian, excuses exhausted, shrugged his shoulders to his ears, rolled his shoulders forward and plodded to the door, when he suddenly heard, “Wait.” His head popped up and turned around.

“How can I help?”

“This your new brothel?”

“Yeah.”

“Did three odd-looking people who demanded they didn’t want girls enter not long ago?”

“Eh? How did you know?”

“Two of them were women, and one of them was a man. The three appeared to be in a hurry and entered the last room on the east side?”

“How did you know?!”

“One of them was a gorgeous girl under twenty with thick eyebrows, a supple skin and was asleep.”

“H-how did you know?!”

“She has curves to die for and lively assets. You don’t have any girl who can hold a candle to her.”

“Are you a god?!” Proprietor Qian’s knees kissed the floor.

“I don’t have time to waste on you. Move aside.”

Ming Feizhen showed a clean pair of heals, not even generating footstep sounds as he sped inside.

“Guan Zhong has returned! Guan Zhong has returned! Please allow me to offer you three bows!” cried Proprietor Qian, bowing after Ming Feizhen with the belief that the latter was the reincarnation of the late Chinese philosopher and politician who served as chancellor and was a reformer of the State of Qi during the Spring and Autumn period of Chinese history.

Ming Feizhen kept dialling up his speed until it appeared as though everything was motionless and then pushed the door open to see River Monster and Poison King at the table. Ming Feizhen wasted no time vaulting up and sealing eight accupoints that true qi needed to circulate through then whooshed past them to the bed.

Ming Feizhen, eyes on the maiden who remained domineering even in her sleep, like a sword waiting to be unsheathed, muttered, “Boss…”