Chapter 88: Good Fortune Arrives

“Master Chu, I am Sha Jianhai, known as ‘A Gull Between Heaven and Earth’ from Wild Elder Valley. Should you ever pass through our valley, my family would be honored to host you!”

A young martial artist with an uncommon bearing smiled and saluted Chu Feng with a cupped fist as he spoke.

“I am Ge Zhong, the young master of Great King Manor, and I hope to befriend you, Master Chu!” Another youthful martial artist, refined in appearance, approached Chu Feng and handed him his personal card.

A martial artist’s card was about an inch square, listing the bearer’s background and identity. Chu Feng accepted it with a smile, thus establishing an acquaintance with the young master of Great King Manor.

“I am Tang Xicui, eldest daughter of the Snowy Twilight Manor’s master. Should Master Chu ever visit, a humble cup of wine awaits you at our manor—it would be our greatest honor!”

This speaker was a sword-bearing maiden of about seventeen or eighteen, who offered Chu Feng a respectful salute. Her bright eyes showed clear admiration.

More and more martial artists approached, each introducing themselves and offering their cards, all eager to form a connection with Chu Feng.

Most of these martial artists came from middling-sized families, manors, or societies among the Nine Mountains and Eighteen Ranges. The weaker ones were at the fourth level of body refinement, while the stronger had reached the seventh—not first-rate masters, but certainly not mediocre either.

At gatherings like this, where heroes from across the land came together, many took the opportunity to broaden their connections within the martial world, introducing themselves to promising new talents so their own names might spread further.

Chu Feng responded to each with a gentle smile, accepting every card handed to him.

Of course, not everyone paid Chu Feng heed—some even ignored him outright.

Most notable among these were a group from the Dread Gate at the adjacent table, especially their leader, Xiong Wu, whose face was a mask of disdain.

Hearing the fawning voices of the other martial artists seeking to curry favor with Chu Feng, Xiong Wu felt a surge of irritation. Gripping his wine cup tightly, he lowered his head and drank.

The three chiefs of Dread Gate, seeing this, were hardly in a better mood.

“Master Xiong,” muttered one with a swarthy face, “who would have guessed that once the horse ran out of the stable, it would grow ever fatter? I wonder if we’ll ever catch it again?”

“Hmph. Catching it is a must! No matter how fat the horse grows, it still fears the knife,” replied another, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

Crash!

Xiong Wu crushed the wine cup in his hand, gritting his teeth. “Chief Niu is right! No matter how strong the horse gets, it fears the knife! A horse that escapes from my family’s stable—no matter how far it runs or how strong it grows—will ultimately be slaughtered by the Dread Gate!”

The three chiefs said no more, but nodded in agreement.

Though surrounded by flattery, Chu Feng kept his senses keen, his eyes and ears alert. He had naturally noticed Xiong Wu’s agitation and overheard the chiefs’ conversation.

He understood well that the “horse” they referred to was himself. Xiong Wu’s meaning was clear: though this horse had escaped the “stable” of the Dread Gate and was thriving, no matter how well he fared, he would ultimately be hunted down by them—death was inevitable.

A cold smile flickered in Chu Feng’s heart as he watched Xiong Wu, so burdened with frustration yet unable to vent it. It was almost comical.

Today was a festive day, a grand event hosted by the Wind and Thunder Martial Hall, and moreover, a chance for Chu Feng to make his name known. A gentleman’s revenge is never rushed; Chu Feng cared little for Xiong Wu’s antics and let him strut and fume as he pleased.

In the midst of laughter and conversation, Chu Feng collected over a hundred calling cards from martial artists, who then returned to their seats.

Just then, Lei Yingfeng stood and raised his voice, “Everyone! Chu Feng has rendered great merit and grace to our Wind and Thunder Martial Hall. I, Lei Yingfeng, have always repaid kindness. Since fortune brings us together today, let us witness something special!”

A rare smile softened Lei Yingfeng’s usually stern face as he turned to Chu Feng. “Chu Feng, as far as I know, you have no wife. But do you have someone in your heart?”

Chu Feng was caught off guard and asked, “Master Lei, what do you mean?”

“Just answer,” Lei Yingfeng replied, smiling.

Chu Feng shook his head. “No, I do not.”

Yet as the words left his mouth, he caught sight of Lei Jianqin beside him, her cheeks flushed crimson. Realization dawned—could it be…?

The hall was utterly silent, countless eyes fixed on them, awaiting Lei Yingfeng’s next words.

With a genial laugh, Lei Yingfeng addressed the crowd, “What do you all think—does my daughter, Lei Jianqin, deserve a match with Chu Feng? My intention is to betroth her to him!”

A clamor erupted in the once silent hall.

“What? Master Lei wishes to give his daughter’s hand to Master Chu? Ha! Truly a match made in heaven—how wonderful!”

“Master Chu is young and accomplished, already a leading figure among the younger generation of the Nine Mountains and Eighteen Ranges. His future will surely surpass us all! For him to marry Miss Lei is not only his good fortune but hers as well!”

“A perfect pair—talented and beautiful! If Master Chu and Miss Lei were to wed, it would be a great joy for all the Nine Mountains and Eighteen Ranges. United, they would bring prosperity to the Wind and Thunder Martial Hall and glory to our lands!”

A chorus of approval filled the hall. Young and old, men and women alike, looked upon Chu Feng and Lei Jianqin with admiration and envy—congratulations, good wishes, and excitement shone in every gaze.

Lei Jianqin, faced with this sea of eyes, was so bashful her cheeks glowed like a flower touched by morning dew. With a touch of intoxication in her eyes, her beauty was truly radiant.

She wished to glance up at Chu Feng, to see if his heart beat as wildly as hers, but dared not raise her head, only smiling shyly.

“Ha! My sincere thanks to all our martial friends for your blessings!” Lei Yingfeng’s usually austere face was now wreathed in smiles. Noticing Chu Feng’s slight frown and troubled expression, he asked, “Chu Feng, you seem preoccupied. I wish to betroth Jianqin to you—what are your thoughts?”

Bang!

Before Chu Feng could respond, a sharp crash rang out from the corner of the hall. Someone had slapped the table and shot to his feet.

The jarring noise froze the smiles on every face, and all eyes turned toward its source—the one who had stood was none other than Xiong Wu, second son of the Xiong family of Dread Gate, and their envoy to this gathering.

With Xiong Wu’s outburst, silence once again fell over the hall, every gaze fixed on him, unsure of his intent.

Han Mo frowned and stepped forward, voice deep. “Xiong Wu, my young friend, why the outburst? Are you dissatisfied with the feast?”

As Han Mo spoke, Chu Feng’s eyes, sharp as a blade, also turned to Xiong Wu’s face.