The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 57

With the appearance of this message, he could clearly feel that a mysterious and strange power was rapidly establishing an unprecedented and intimate connection with a certain part of his body, centered on a mysterious acupoint between his waist and kidneys!

If his previous approach was at most instinctive and crude, then his control was merely a matter of instinct.

Now, he felt as if he had gained an extra eye, an extra hand, and even an independent brain, which he could manipulate with exquisite precision!

Thoughts moved slightly.

"Buzz!"

A barely audible tremor rang out from his waist.

As if it understood his command, its tip twitched slightly, and it nodded gently as if it were a living thing!

This startled even Wang Meng himself!

He then tried to slowly guide a wisp of his newly recovered internal energy in that direction.

Something amazing happened!

That wisp of internal energy flowed in instantly, without any obstruction or stagnation!

In an instant, he felt as if he had been coated with an invisible, incredibly tough air film, the hardness and toughness of which were far superior to when he was holding the water tank up!

Is this what "infusion of true qi" and "indestructible vajra" mean?

A genuine, ecstatic smile finally appeared on Wang Meng's face.

Tonight is still a long night.

Chapter Thirty-One: Abbess, please give me, Wang, some face!

The auctions were always held in the evening.

The word "暗" in "流水暗拍" has two meanings.

Firstly, it refers to the secrecy surrounding the auction items.

The other refers to the pitch-black night.

Night is the best cover-up and the best camouflage; it can conceal too many greedy eyes and too many murderous intentions after a successful crime.

But this does not mean that during the day, all the martial arts heroes who came to participate in this grand event hid in the courtyards assigned to them by Mantuo Manor and slept soundly.

On the contrary, Mantuo Villa is even more lively during the day than at night.

To some extent, this place is both a den of extravagant spending and a rare social stage.

People in the martial arts world are mostly known for their unrestrained and carefree nature, and their ability to settle scores quickly.

Ultimately, however vast the world is, the scope of an ordinary person's activities is limited even after a lifetime.

Moreover, the group of people gathered at Mantuo Manor at this moment have such complex origins and extensive backgrounds that they have long exceeded the scope of ordinary martial arts circles.

Therefore, at Wang Meng's suggestion, the daytime rules at Mantuo Villa have been slightly changed this year.

Instead of letting guests mingle in small groups and socialize insincerely in the courtyard, everyone was invited into the spacious inner auction hall.

Under the guise of "previewing rare treasures," a portion of the highly prized items that would be auctioned that evening were displayed and exhibited in advance for all guests to appreciate.

This seemingly generous gesture is actually a well-intentioned but manipulative scheme.

Some martial arts enthusiasts who were originally just there to join in the fun or were only interested in specific items changed their expressions completely after seeing the dazzling weapons, smelling the refreshing fragrance of the elixirs, and even touching the martial arts manuals taken out of the Langhuan Jade Cave.

The hidden possessiveness was blatantly aroused, and the fanny pack that I thought was generous enough suddenly seemed insufficient.

This will undoubtedly make the nighttime bidding more frenzied and bloody than ever before.

At this moment, Wang Meng was reclining on a rosewood rocking chair in the inner hall of the auction room, leisurely flipping through a book called "Illustrated Records of Foreign Lands" that he had taken from Li Qingluo's study.

Behind him, a pair of soft, delicate hands were gently kneading his shoulders and neck with just the right amount of force.

The owner of those hands was none other than Li Qingluo.

Wang Meng's current status at Mantuo Manor is self-evident.

He was no longer the servant who had to be mindful of others' moods, but had transformed into the most influential half-master of the manor besides Li Qingluo.

Apart from the legendary Langhuan Jade Cave, which is said to hold the secrets of all martial arts, there is no place in the entire Mantuo Manor that Wang Meng cannot go.

Feeling the soft hands behind him brush against the sensitive spot on the back of his neck, bringing a slight shiver, a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips, unnoticed by others—Li Qingluo himself had thoroughly "explored" this deepest and most nourishing part of Mantuo Manor, the birthplace of Wang Yuyan.

At this moment, while enjoying Li Qingluo's personal service, he observed with great interest the various people in the courtyard outside through the gap in the beaded curtain of the inner room.

The book "Illustrations of Foreign Lands" in his hands, combined with these vivid examples before him, gave him a clearer and more intuitive understanding of this bizarre and enormous world.

This is a vast world that has been forcibly kneaded together, a world that is both contradictory and harmonious.

In the northwest corner of the inner hall, a group of burly men with fierce faces stood out.

They wore heavy fur coats, seemingly unconcerned even in the already sweltering weather of Jiangnan. They carried their signature curved swords at their waists, their braids were slicked back and gleamed, and they always exuded a strong, pungent odor, a mixture of mutton and cheap mare's milk wine.

These people were Mongolian warriors from the northern grasslands.

Behind them was the colossal Yuan Empire, which had already devoured half the world and was eyeing the rich land in the south with predatory intent.

In Wang Meng's view, these Mongolians were more like soldiers than martial arts practitioners.

Their movements were bold and sweeping, full of the bloodshed and killing intent of the battlefield, completely incompatible with the "chivalry" and "stopping when it's too late" principles of the Central Plains martial arts world.

Their eyes, like those of the hungriest wolves on the grassland, scanned everything around them without any attempt to conceal their gaze, whether it be people or objects.

Their purpose in coming here is quite simple.

They used the gold and silver plundered from various places to exchange for divine weapons and elixirs from the Central Plains, in order to enhance the strength of the warriors under their Great Khan.

It is said that the leader of this group was a young prince from the Ruyang Prince's Mansion, accompanied by several Western Region monks with deep-set eyes, high noses, and strange martial arts skills.

On the other side of the courtyard, a group of young martial artists dressed in Song Dynasty blue robes stood in a subtle confrontation with them.

These people, though few in number, were all spirited and had sharp eyes.

His demeanor indeed exuded an air of righteousness and composure.

The longswords hanging at their waists had simple, unadorned scabbards, but both the hands holding the swords and the posture they adopted revealed a solid foundation forged through countless trials.

Beside them were several older middle-aged men, with calm expressions, sharp eyes, and slightly bulging temples, clearly all masters of internal martial arts.

Wang Meng's gaze slowly swept across the crowd, finally settling on a figure that stirred his heart.

Huang Rong, the leader of the Beggars' Sect.

She was prominently listed.

She seemed different today than usual.

A tight-fitting turquoise dress perfectly accentuated her mature and shapely figure, with her breasts almost bursting out of the fabric.

Wang Meng had not forgotten the sting of that slap, nor could he forget the sweetness and tenderness of that kiss.

As if sensing his gaze, Huang Rong slowly turned her head, her bright peach blossom eyes meeting his gaze precisely in the air.

Far from being angry, she only had a hint of shyness in her eyes. But as if realizing her own retreat, she stuck out her little tongue and subconsciously licked her lips.

"They're from Xiangyang City..."

Wang Meng's gaze lingered on the emerald green figure for only a moment before the soft, delicate body behind him pressed even closer.

Li Qingluo's hands slid down his shoulders like nimble snakes, encircling his firm chest. The color of her nail polish stood out against his bronze skin.

Her fingernails lightly brushed against his chest muscles, sending shivers of tingling pleasure through him. Her warm breath, more rapid than before, almost nibbled at Wang Meng's earlobe.

The voice suppressed a barely perceptible sourness, yet deliberately contorted itself with a myriad of charms, as if trying to use its body to draw all his attention back.

"Isn't the leader the famous and beautiful leader of the martial arts world, Huang Rong?"

She emphasized the word "charming" very heavily, as if she were savoring something delicious, or as if she were chewing on a bitter medicine.

"She comes here punctually every year, under the guise of buying things for her foolish husband in Xiangyang, parading around the market..."

Hmph, healing elixirs, armor and weapons... Everyone knows what she really wants to buy is a large-scale supply contract with a grain and fodder merchant.

If the soldiers and horses are not moving, the grain and grass will go first.

Xiangyang City lacks nothing, except one thing: food to fill its stomachs.

As he spoke, her waist, with its unique plumpness and roundness, gently and rhythmically rubbed against him from behind. Even through several layers of clothing, he could feel its amazing elasticity and heat.

"That hero Guo was indeed a great man, as wooden as a log, but his city of Xiangyang was truly a bottomless pit that could never be filled..."

Li Qingluo let out a meaningful sigh, her whole body almost hanging on Wang Meng's body, her chest squeezed out of shape, pressing tightly against his back, and in a voice that only the two of them could hear, she chuckled and said, "No matter how much money and grain there is, I'm afraid it won't be enough to feed those ten thousand soldiers."

But you, Brother Meng... are far more important than that dilapidated city..."

Upon hearing this, Wang Meng smiled noncommittally.

Wang Meng withdrew his gaze from Huang Rong's excessively graceful figure, secretly sneering to himself, but remaining outwardly calm.

He slowly turned the page of the book in his hand, seemingly oblivious to the hustle and bustle outside the beaded curtain.

His gaze, however, was firmly drawn to another group of people.

Unlike those江湖人 (jianghu people) who are either flamboyant, reserved, or enthusiastic, this group of people stood quietly in the shadow of the colonnade pillars.

They wore dark, simple, straight-hemmed robes, their hair tied up with simple wooden hairpins or cloth crowns, and their expressions were solemn and serious.

They were like a group of terracotta warriors who had emerged from an ancient tomb, carrying a heavy and oppressive aura that was out of step with this era.

"Those are Qin people!"

Li Qingluo pressed her body even closer, as if trying to meld herself into Wang Meng's body: "A bunch of real old fogies."

Wang Meng's fingers gently stroked the chapter about "Great Qin" in "Illustrated Records of Foreign Lands," and the records in the book gradually overlapped with the living figure in front of him.

According to the book, the Qin Empire was completely different from the other states in the region.

It does not not exist on this continent, but is imprisoned by a natural, almost divinely punished, predicament.

In the far west of the mainland, there lies a boundless "Ten Thousand Mountains".

The mountains there are not ordinary mountains, but sheer cliffs that pierce the sky like the fangs of giant beasts.

The poisonous miasma in the mountains never dissipates; if an ordinary person inhales even a single breath, it will turn into pus.

The mountains are home to countless ancient and ferocious beasts that have long since disappeared from the Central Plains.

This mountain range, like a huge scar left by the creator god, completely isolated the Qin Empire from the outside world for thousands of years.