Chapter Twenty-One: The Man Named Bao May Not Be a Hero, but Neither Is He a Coward

So be it, then.

At his age, without even a partner to call his own, let alone a son—and even if he were to have a daughter, the result would be the same. Bao Qianling tried to console himself, though his expression softened, losing its previous defiance.

He was roughly on par with the six brothers lying unconscious on the roof. If someone could effortlessly incapacitate all six without a sound, it meant that killing him would be nothing more than a passing thought. Being a coward was fine; life was what mattered.

"I still prefer that rebellious look you had earlier. Try to get that back." Zhang Chengyi teased him offhandedly, then asked, "What do you think of Qiao Feng?"

Bao Qianling was baffled by the man’s erratic behavior. He hesitated for a moment before replying, "W-what do you think of him?"

Sometimes, moral decline happens much faster than one imagines. A moment ago, he had been ready to face death, but once he realized the man had no intention of killing him as long as he submitted, he slipped straight into the abyss. He felt deeply ashamed for uttering such sycophantic words, and upon noticing a look of disdain on the face of the 'unconscious' Xu Chongxiao, he wished he could shrink away into nothingness.

"No need to ask for my opinion." Zhang Chengyi understood the subtext; the man was worried that if he praised Qiao Feng, he might end up on the wrong side of Zhang's opinion. So, he had decided to ask first to gauge which way to lean. Zhang smiled and said, "I just want to know what the renowned 'Northern Qiao Feng' is like, and what he looks like."

"Thick brows, large eyes, a high nose and a wide mouth. To a physiognomist, he possesses the 'Tian' and 'Ri' features among the 'Upper Eight Immortals'." Bao Qianling recalled, "He has an imposing manner, articulate speech, and is heroic, forthright, and deeply loyal."

His face showed genuine admiration. In fact, before he learned that Qiao Feng was a "Khitan dog" who had allegedly killed his own father, mother, and master, he had been an unadulterated fan of the man.

"Wait, what are the 'Upper Eight Immortals' and the 'Tian-Ri' features?" Zhang Chengyi was a bit confused.

Bao Qianling quickly explained. In physiognomy, the "Upper Eight Immortals" refer to the characters Yue, Tian, Guan, and Ri. As the saying goes, the face reflects the person: Yue is a long face, Tian is a square face, Guan is a broad-shouldered, big-headed appearance, and Ri is a well-proportioned build. Combining these two-by-two provides an excellent description of a person.

Qiao Feng was slightly different; he had a classic square face—longer than a 'Tian' face but more angular—giving him an air of integrity and decisiveness.

"Not bad. Sounds like a real hero." Zhang Chengyi nodded. Even hearing it from someone else, it satisfied his own imagination and the descriptions he had read in novels. "They say heroes recognize heroes. When we eventually meet, it will surely be a joyous occasion."

***

[You’ll be seeing Qiao Feng soon enough, let’s see how 'joyous' that will be...] Bao Qianling muttered to himself. He had already made a name for himself in the martial arts world by kidnapping the elders of the Beggar Sect, and just a few days ago, he had sent a letter inviting Qiao Feng to come. But could Qiao Feng really defeat this man?

"Come up."

Zhang Chengyi held the rope in his hand as if the two grown men dangling from it were nothing more than bundles of cotton. He pulled them up with casual ease and set them aside.

"Elder Xu, I don't need to see you down, do I?"

"How could I trouble you, Master Zhang?" Xu Chongxiao, who had been playing dead, immediately opened his eyes. He dared not gamble on whether he would be tossed off. Having been 'unconscious' just a second ago, he now moved with remarkable agility, landing lightly on his feet and scurrying into the house of his own accord.

Zhang Chengyi swept the six unconscious men into the hole in the roof as if he were cleaning up trash. Then, looking at the bewildered Bao Qianling, he said, "You broke the roof; you fix it."

"Yes." Bao Qianling breathed a sigh of relief.

With that, Zhang Chengyi turned and walked away. He hadn't intended to kill these men who came to the rescue; throwing them into the house was simply because he felt they might catch a cold if left outside all night. When he swept them down, he even used his internal energy to ensure they would land safely. He wasn't some protagonist in a game who gained experience points by killing; fundamentally, he was a modern person who cared about others' feelings. Just like the singer who sought revenge on Yao Bodang—he could have killed Yao himself, but he chose to respect the singer's efforts and offered just enough help for her to claim her own vengeance. Despite his propensity for fighting, brawling, and kidnapping, he was, at his core, a good man.

After Zhang Chengyi left, Bao Qianling stood in silence for a moment, then began to work on the roof.

***

The next morning, while Zhang Chengyi was eating breakfast, Su Xinghe pushed open the door and recounted what had happened to the monk Huiming.

The story was quite cliché. Huiming had given up his martial arts to descend the mountain; he looked burly, but his actual combat prowess was unremarkable even among ordinary people. He had been managing the temple well, and as his reputation grew, he naturally attracted the attention of those without a background. The local magistrate’s officials were using the promise of an imperial plaque as leverage to force him into a partnership to exploit the temple's ordination certificates.

Since the wild temple currently lacked an official imperial plaque, the magistrate threatened to expel the "rule-breaking" monk and tear the temple down if he didn't cooperate. If it were just Huiming, he would have left long ago, but he had adopted several orphans over the years—a weakness that had been used to threaten him. The scholar who had come to harass them yesterday had been sent by the county magistrate's head clerk.

To a wanderer who lived life on the edge, a tiny county magistrate was of no consequence, but since Huiming lacked martial arts, he could only take the verbal abuse. He would either have to compromise or leave with the young novices he had taken in.

"Master Zhang, leave this to me."

Bao Qianling, sitting nearby, suddenly spoke up. He didn't know why he hadn't left the night before after fixing the roof, and instead had stayed to beg Zhang Chengyi to release his six companions. He might have been a bit of a coward, but he was certainly loyal. Zhang Chengyi appreciated that trait, so he had invited him to breakfast, and Su Xinghe hadn't avoided him while delivering the report.

After volunteering, Bao Qianling stood up and said, "A trivial matter like this doesn't require you to act, Master Zhang. But if I handle it perfectly, will you release my friends?"

Zhang Chengyi's reply was unexpected: "They can leave whenever they want. I have no interest in holding onto people I don't even know."

Bao Qianling froze, then said, "It doesn't matter."

"If you choose to act, that is your own business. I have nothing to hand over to you," Zhang Chengyi reminded him.

Bao Qianling chuckled. "Master Zhang has the heart of a hero; surely you don't look down on the heroes of this world?"

"Bao may not be a hero, but he is no coward."

"Master Zhang, just watch."

Having said that, he tapped his foot, darted through the door, pushed off the courtyard wall, and soared four or five meters into the air, disappearing in the blink of an eye.