"Sorry about that. This roast of mine isn’t behaving. You go on with your business."

He then kicked the donkey to get it to tuck in its legs.

The donkey rolled its eyes at its master and simply flopped down in a new position...

"AHHHH!!!"

The burly man was already at his breaking point. Now, feeling like he was being mocked by this man and his donkey, he lunged forward, his hands shooting out to grab the young man’s shoulders.

"I’ll tear you to shreds!!"

The young man’s expression darkened. He pulled a calligraphy brush from seemingly nowhere and, with a casual flick, the burly man felt his body go rigid, completely frozen in place.

Beads of sweat instantly broke out on his forehead.

Pressure-point techniques existed in the Jianghu, but one performed so casually, so flawlessly as to be untraceable, was a rare sight indeed.

Having done this, the young man paid the burly man no further mind.

Instead, he went back to flipping through the booklet in his hand, reading and scribbling in it as he went, all while wearing an expression like the whole world owed him money.

The young boy looked deeply disappointed. He snuck a glance at the old man and, seeing his eyes were still closed, had an idea. He suddenly pointed at the young man and shouted:

"Hey, mister! I like the look of your donkey. Why not kill it and make a nice roast out of it for me?"

He expected the young man to fly into a rage at his words.

But to his surprise, when the young man looked up, his eyes held a look of approval. He nodded eagerly.

"Sure, sure. If you’ve got the skills, feel free to haul this donkey away.

"To tell you the truth, I’ve been wanting to make a roast out of it for a long time myself. Once you’re done cooking, remember to give me a bite."

The boy’s mouth twitched. ’This Jianghu is full of weirdos,’ he thought.

Of course, he didn’t actually want to eat a donkey roast. Besides, putting that aside, even if he did, there was no reason he’d have to make it himself.

But things had already come to this, so he could only bite the bullet and give it a try.

He stood up, grabbed the donkey’s reins, and tried to drag it away.

The reins pulled taut, but the donkey didn’t budge.

The boy glanced back in surprise, starting to suspect he wasn’t pulling a donkey at all, but a massive stone block.

And then he saw it: the donkey was looking at him with mocking eyes.

That look was enough to make the boy want to spit blood. He was being mocked by a donkey!

Just as he was about to put his back into it and pull again, the old man’s eyes suddenly snapped open. He snorted.

"Come back. No more trouble."

The moment those four words were spoken, the boy shuddered.

Just as he was about to drop the reins, he heard the donkey’s owner speak coolly:

"What’s it to you, old man? He wants to make a roast, and I want to eat a roast. Why are you getting in the way?"

The boy suddenly felt the weight in his hands lighten the moment the young man finished speaking. The donkey had stood up on its own.

He took two steps, pulling, and the donkey obediently followed.

He was confused for a moment, but he nevertheless led the donkey toward the exit.

"Come back."

The old man’s face darkened. He leaped through the air, lunging for the boy.

The boy’s heart leaped in alarm. He forgot all about the donkey, dropping the reins and bolting for the main entrance.

But how could his speed possibly compare to the old man, a master of Martial Arts?

Just as the old man’s hand was about to close on him, a calligraphy brush shot out from the side, neatly blocking the old man’s grasp.

Seizing the opportunity, the boy reached the door in two great strides and frantically began to pull down the heavy door bolt.

But he was small and weak, and it took him a good while to finally get the heavy bolt unlatched.

Meanwhile, the old man, not wanting to get tied up with the young man, shook off his attack. With a tap of his feet, he was already behind the boy.

The boy had just managed to push open the inn’s main door when a blast of frigid wind and snow gusted inside, instantly sparking a chorus of curses from the other patrons.

The boy paid them no mind and was about to dash outside when—THUD!

He felt as if his head had slammed into a wall!

Dizzy and seeing stars, he looked up, wondering how a wall had suddenly materialized in the inn’s doorway.

Instead, he found himself staring right into someone’s eyes.

Feeling the vicious rush of air from behind, he instinctively yelled:

"Sir, help me!!"

The newcomer was confused. He’d been traveling and had missed a place to stay for the night. Seeing this inn, he’d planned to get a room, only to open the door and walk right into... this.

He instinctively reached out and clamped a hand around the old man’s wrist.

The old man flew into a rage.

"You’re courting death!!"

He hadn’t intended to kill the boy, but being thwarted like this had stoked his true anger.

With his right wrist caught, he twisted his left hand into a palm strike, aiming directly for the fatal acupoint on his opponent’s chest.

He never expected the man to simply flick his wrist. An immense force swept over him, and he was sent flying against his will.

The force of the throw sent him flying several dozen feet.

When the old man landed, his footing was unsteady. He stumbled back another ten feet before he finally managed to regain his balance.

Horrified, realizing he was no match, he pointed at the man and snarled:

"This isn’t over!!"

With that, he turned and stalked away.

It was a blatant threat, and it made the newcomer’s brow furrow. He was about to move and stop the old man when he heard a muffled voice from behind him:

"Fang Shuwen?"

The voice sounded familiar to Fang Shuwen. He turned, his own expression one of surprise.

"Chen Yan? What are you doing here?

"Do you know that old man who just left?"

"Don’t know him, but I know of him."

Chen Yan glanced at the frigid wind outside, his brow furrowing as he spoke: