CHAPTER 91: CHAPTER 63: THE REAL...STRONG ONE_1

After getting off the carriage, Zheng Fan felt that his recent bout of wits with thin air had been utterly hilarious.

Especially the part where he and Hui Wenzu both assumed the unkempt man belonged to the other’s side—one acting affable, the other cautious. It turned out the fellow was just a freeloading passerby.

But immediately, at Zheng Fan’s command, Wang Duan and four other Centurions led their subordinates to scour the entire camp for the unkempt man.

The search lasted for two hours but yielded nothing. It seemed as if the unkempt man had simply feasted on half a roast chicken and then evaporated from the camp.

Zheng Fan didn’t like this feeling of events spiraling out of his control, as it cast doubt on his ability to deal with Hui Wenzu later.

Feeling slightly uneasy, Zheng Fan returned to his tent.

As he lifted the tent flap, Zheng Fan was taken aback. There, right next to his bed, sat the unkempt man, chopsticks in hand, savoring a small hotpot.

The hotpot had been prepared by Siniang. Its soul—chili, Sichuan peppercorns, and other spices—was readily available and inexpensive due to the abundance of traders from the Western Region in the area.

In ancient times, enjoying a spicy hotpot was an absolute luxury.

But now, someone else had beaten him to it.

Zheng Fan’s gaze swept around the tent, finding Siniang standing alert in a corner.

PHEW. He let out a silent sigh of relief.

The hotpot being eaten by someone else was fine, as long as Siniang was safe.

However, judging from Siniang’s defensive posture, he hadn’t misjudged; this unkempt man was no lightweight.

After all, Siniang was one of the Seven Demon Kings. She’d experienced more than he could fathom.

Zheng Fan trusted her judgment.

Even against someone slightly stronger than her, Siniang would remain calm, perhaps even exchange pleasantries. She certainly wouldn’t be in this state of heightened alertness.

Well then, after searching the camp for so long, the man was actually sitting right here in his tent, enjoying the hotpot.

Especially with Siniang just watching him eat, without intervening.

He started to weigh his options.

If he dropped the curtain now, turned, and ran, could he reach a safe distance?

At least, could he reach the center of their troops and have Wang Duan and the others act as fodder to buy him some time?

Zheng Fan glanced at Siniang, who subtly shook her head.

HISSS... Did that mean it was too late to even try running?

Zheng Fan still trusted Siniang’s judgment: if this unkempt man wanted to kill him, at this distance, he wouldn’t be able to escape.

So, he was left with two choices.

One: "Ahahaha, wrong tent! Carry on, brother, enjoy your meal."

The other: If you can’t beat them, join them. Eat with him!

Zheng Fan lowered the curtain and confidently strode in, sitting down opposite the unkempt man.

The unkempt man glanced at Zheng Fan, then continued to pick at the hotpot with his chopsticks, putting an egg dumpling into his mouth.

It was scalding hot; he slurped continuously as he ate, tilting his head back and gulping for a long moment before finally swallowing.

Zheng Fan shook his head. "That’s not right. How can you eat hotpot without dipping sauce?"

He waved to Siniang. "Siniang, bring the sauce dishes over. Eating hotpot without dipping sauce is simply sacrilege."

Hearing this, the unkempt man suddenly smirked, as if he had completely seen through Zheng Fan’s ploy.

But Zheng Fan wasn’t afraid of his schemes being exposed; he had plenty more up his sleeve.

From Guo Jing and Huang Rong to Zhang Wuji and Xiao Yan, from the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms to Battle Qi manifesting as a steed—Zheng Fan’s mind was richly stocked with such scenarios and tropes of naive protagonists winning the favor of powerful figures.

Life, after all, was a constant dance between schemes and counter-schemes.

Either he seized his first major opportunity in this world tonight, or next year, Blindie and the others could come here to tend his grave and pull weeds.

Seeing Zheng Fan composed, Siniang naturally wouldn’t show any weakness. She immediately went to fetch the sauce dishes and condiments.

"Here, watch this."

Zheng Fan first spooned minced garlic into a bowl, added a generous handful of chopped green onions and cilantro, sprinkled some sesame seeds, then took the ladle from the hotpot and poured some of the bubbling broth over the ingredients.

TSK TSK TSK. Perfect!

Sesame and garlic had only recently been introduced to the East and weren’t widely cultivated yet. However, in Hutou City, thanks to its favorable location, they weren’t hard to obtain.

The only drawback was that Hutou City was too far inland in the north, making it unrealistic to get oysters for oyster sauce.

Zheng Fan handed a prepared sauce dish to the unkempt man.

The unkempt man accepted it without ceremony, just as he had taken the roast chicken from Hui Wenzu’s hand earlier.

"Dip your food in it," Zheng Fan reminded him.

The unkempt man picked up a meatball, swirled it in the sauce dish, and then popped it into his mouth.

"How is it? Delicious, right?"

The unkempt man nodded, then began to eat more quickly, dipping each morsel into the sauce.

"Actually, there’s also sesame paste, but I’m not a fan, so I didn’t prepare any. By the way, Siniang, bring out the grape wine A Ming brewed."

Drinking wasn’t allowed in the army, but who cared about discipline at a time like this?

Siniang brought the wine, poured two cups herself, and then stepped back a few paces.

"Come on, shall we toast?" Zheng Fan offered a cup to the unkempt man.

The unkempt man took the cup, hesitated for a moment, but eventually clinked cups with Zheng Fan.

The scene was somewhat heartwarming, but only those involved knew the panic churning within them.

Finally, the hotpot was finished.

All the dipping ingredients were gone. This was two days’ worth of Zheng Fan’s rations, devoured by this fellow in a single meal. He still seemed unsatisfied, even lifting the pot to drink the remaining broth.

After eating, the unkempt man contentedly rubbed his belly with one hand and, with the other, began to... pick at his foot.

"Siniang, bring my glutinous rice balls."

"Yes, sir."

Siniang brought the dessert over.

Zheng Fan gestured. "Dessert."

The unkempt man used his foot-picking hand to take a glutinous rice ball and pop it into his mouth. Apparently pleased with the soft, chewy texture, he wolfed them down like a storm scattering clouds until none were left.

"Brother," Zheng Fan said, "it’s a pity we’re on the road and don’t have much prepared. Otherwise, once I’m done with this business, why don’t you come back with me? I guarantee you good food and drink every day, all year round, never the same thing twice."

Anyone else encountering such an unfathomable individual would have wanted to keep their distance, but Zheng Fan did the opposite, directly inviting the man home.

This was how countless protagonists in stories built their fortunes!

"Heh heh heh... Hah hah hah..." The unkempt man sniffed the fingers he’d used to pick his foot and then burst out laughing.

"Hahahahaha..."

Though Zheng Fan didn’t know what was so funny, he laughed along.

"You’ll agree to anything I ask?" the unkempt man inquired.

"As long as I have it," Zheng Fan replied decisively.

The unkempt man stretched out his hand, pointing at Siniang, who stood nearby disguised as a man. "She," he said, "is very good."

Siniang’s disguise could fool ordinary people, but it certainly couldn’t deceive his eyes.

Zheng Fan laughed when he heard this. "Then let’s draw blades."

This was non-negotiable.

He had already died once; his primary goal in this world was to stir things up.

What was the point of sacrificing his woman to curry favor?

Zheng Fan was very clear on this point.

Siniang stepped forward, her hands spreading as silk threads began to extend from her fingertips.

The unkempt man, however, showed no reaction, merely stating calmly, "She’s very good."

"I know."

Next, the unkempt man pointed at Zheng Fan. "He," he said, "is very good too."

Clearly, the unkempt man wasn’t referring to *him*, Zheng Fan.

Zheng Fan understood immediately: the man was referring to Mo Wan!

He could even see Mo Wan’s existence!

The next moment, a chilling sensation swept through Zheng Fan. Brutality, curses, calamity—all kinds of negative auras began to surge from within him.

The unkempt man placed his hand on the small table. "Barbarian God, above," he said softly.

BOOM!

Zheng Fan felt his ears begin to roar.

The next moment, all the silk threads in Siniang’s hands snapped. The negative aura that had just surged from within Zheng Fan was instantly and forcefully suppressed!

Zheng Fan stared wide-eyed at the unkempt man before him.

Damn it, this guy was a Barbarian!

This Barbarian... he was so strong!

What rank was he?

Eighth Rank? No, an Eighth Rank couldn’t be this strong. Seventh Rank? Sixth Rank? Or even... higher?

"Your food was very tasty." The unkempt man waved his hand, and the oppressive aura instantly vanished.

Siniang sank to one knee, gasping for breath, her chest heaving.

"I understand your intentions too." The unkempt man leaned back slightly, a hint of resignation in his voice. "It’s a pity. If it were in the past, I truly would have been willing to go to your home. Who knows, I might have even given you what you desire."

"Can’t you now?" Zheng Fan asked.

The unkempt man shook his head. "My time is short."

"I have doctors at home; they can treat illnesses," Zheng Fan said quickly.

"I’m not ill." A playful look flickered in the unkempt man’s eyes. Pointing at Zheng Fan again, he said, "They are both outstanding. You... you were originally quite good too, but compared to those two... you’re somewhat unpresentable."

Zheng Fan: "..."

That’s not what I wanted to hear!

"A pity you’re not a Barbarian. Otherwise, I could have recommended you to the sacrificial hall."

Zheng Fan immediately adopted a solemn expression. "Yes, I’ve always regretted that. I used to think Barbarians were terrifying, savage even. But after I came into contact with them, I discovered their admirable qualities. They are skilled in song and dance, warm, and hospitable..."

The unkempt man raised a hand toward Zheng Fan.

Zheng Fan blinked. "What is it?"

"Don’t stop. Keep spouting nonsense."

Zheng Fan: "..."

"You’ll be in charge of cooking for this journey. In return, I won’t kill you."

Such a generous reward, Zheng Fan thought sarcastically.

Apparently, even the unkempt man felt he was being a bit too shameless, for he added, "And before I die, I can help you kill that fat fellow in the carriage."

"No, no, no, he’s my elder. You’ve misunderstood."

"But in the carriage, I sensed your killing intent towards him."

"Er..."

"I’m full. I want to rest. Arrange a tent for me."

"Alright, no problem. However, Senior, might I be so bold as to ask your esteemed name? If it’s inconvenient, please pretend I never asked. It’s just that, having witnessed your magnificent presence tonight, I feel I would regret it for a lifetime if I didn’t know your name."

"You Central Plains people have a saying: A true man does not change his given name when traveling, nor his surname when seated. My name is Que Shi. Shatuo Queshi."

HISSS!!!

Holy shit!

"And you, young man, what is your name?"

Zheng Fan took a deep breath, cupped his fists respectfully, and said with great solemnity, "My name is Fanli."