Chapter Fifty-Three: The Invitation

Wu Luohua shouted, “Look at Mao, run quickly!” The innocent white horse turned its head, broke into a trot, but hadn’t gone far before it overtook the mounted party behind, kicking up a cloud of dust. Pressured, the white horse slowed, and just as Xiaohua was about to whip it again, the riders turned and galloped back toward them. The group reined in before the carriage, halting abruptly.

A middle-aged man with a thick beard leapt down from his fine steed and, cupping his fists, addressed the carriage, “Hero, you were hard to find indeed! Zhang Biao pays his respects!” With that, he bowed deeply, almost ninety degrees.

Wu Luohua frowned, his mind preoccupied with concern for Ganyu—he had no patience for these baffling courtesies. Lifting his head, he said, “So it’s Zhang, second-in-command of the Haikun Gang. May I ask why you’ve stopped my carriage?”

At this, Mo Bai and Nalan Xin’er also stepped down from the carriage, smiling as they regarded the Haikun Gang’s followers. Neither side spoke further, as if silently sizing each other up.

After a moment, Tian Huashan suddenly vaulted off his horse and cupped his fists. “You all are indeed extraordinary people. I have prepared a banquet at the Haikun Gang’s stronghold, and I hope you will honor me with your presence.”

Mo Bai smiled gently. “Since Chief Tian so sincerely invites us, how could we refuse such an honor?”

With Mo Bai’s words, Tian Huashan felt a palpable pressure lift. Others might not have noticed, but he himself was well aware of the cold sweat on his back—he had tried to exert spiritual pressure on Mo Bai, only to be effortlessly repelled by the young man.

Xiaohua was anxious, glancing at Mo Bai, but seeing Mo Bai nodding at him, Xiaohua’s heart steadied. He understood Mo Bai must already have a plan, so despite his worry, he said nothing more, driving the carriage behind the Haikun Gang’s troop as they proceeded slowly.

Though Xiaohua remained silent, Nalan Xin’er, now seated inside the carriage, was also troubled about Ganyu. She whispered, “Brother Mo, why should we drink with such a third-rate gang? What good does it do to grant them face?”

Mo Bai replied with a meaningful look, “It’s all for your sister Gan.” He paused, then continued, “We’re strangers in this place. Even if our spiritual abilities could temporarily resolve Miss Gan’s predicament, we cannot help her forever. So if we intervene, it must be thorough. The Haikun Gang and Gan Fort have a long, intertwined history. We can learn far more from their words than by blindly rushing to Gan Fort.”

Nalan Xin’er gave a thumbs-up in admiration. “Truly cunning—no, wise and prudent.”

Mo Bai leaned back, finding a comfortable spot. “I still prefer the first compliment.”

After a while, they arrived at a mountain stronghold. Compared with the formality of Gan Fort, this place was much more rough-and-tumble—but for a gang on the outskirts of Guihai City, having their own fortress was no small feat for Tian Huashan.

The gates creaked open, flanking to either side as the gang’s lackeys shouted boisterous welcomes, adding to the underworld atmosphere. Nalan Xin’er, never having experienced such a scene, was wide-eyed. In her mind, spiritual cultivators should be hermits in remote mountains, not brashly carving out territory in the mortal world.

Naturally, lackeys came to take the horses and carriage. With Zhang Biao leading, Tian Huashan led the way, and Mo Bai’s group followed into the main hall, where a sumptuous feast awaited them.

Tian Huashan, ever the convivial host, raised a large bowl of wine. “To be friends with Brother Mo, Master Wu, and Miss Nalan is my greatest fortune! I drink first in your honor!” He drained it in one impressive gulp, his drinking style at odds with his “cold-faced gentleman” reputation.

Mo Bai laughed heartily and returned the toast. One sniff told him the wine was clean. Nalan Xin’er, unaccustomed to alcohol, only sipped lightly. Wu Luohua, meanwhile, wore an anxious expression—the sun was already past its zenith, sliding westward.

Tian Huashan was no ordinary man; to carve out a force in the unruly outskirts of Guihai City testified to his abilities. Not only was he a disciple of the Zilong Palace, one of the five great sects, but he also possessed remarkable intelligence. With a slight smile, he said, “Master Wu, you seem troubled. If it’s anything within Guihai City’s domain, perhaps I can help.”

Wu Luohua shook his head. “Thank you for your kind offer, Chief Tian, but my trouble is not so easily explained.”

Tian Huashan hesitated, then shrewdly asked, “Could it be that you are here for the Lingjue Tournament as well?”

Mo Bai and his companions were momentarily taken aback—they had not yet entered Guihai City and knew nothing of this Lingjue Tournament. Seeing their surprise, Tian Huashan was reassured. He smiled, “As long as Master Wu isn’t here for the Lingjue Tournament, please, speak freely. Our Haikun Gang may not be a first-class sect, but we have our own special resources and ways of surviving.”

Zhang Biao chimed in, “Master Mo, though we operate on the city outskirts, even the city lord respects our strength. Take the upcoming Lingjue Tournament in seven days—the city lord personally sent Steward Wang to invite my elder brother to compete. Of the city’s nine sects and eighteen gangs, only a few are so favored.” At this, he couldn’t help but lift his chin proudly.

Mo Bai cupped his hands to Tian Huashan, “So such a grand event approaches in Guihai City. However, our business is unrelated—we’re entangled with Gan Fort. Yesterday at Dubai Pavilion, it seemed your gang and Gan Fort were not on good terms, so I hesitated to mention it.”

The mention of Gan Fort made Tian Huashan bristle with anger. “Hmph! Gan Fort has declined with each generation. When I first came here, the old lord of Gan Fort was a true gentleman, and Gan Sen followed in his father’s footsteps. But after the old lord’s death, Gan Sen seems a changed man. Outwardly he’s still the fort’s master, but I know him better than anyone.”

Mo Bai’s heart stirred. He thought: It seems Tian Huashan heard about what happened at Dubai Pavilion and now wishes to win us over for the Lingjue Tournament, so he’s revealing the situation at Gan Fort. This is an overt show of goodwill.

Mo Bai clinked bowls with Tian Huashan and asked, “Brother Tian, I hope you’ll tell us the full story.”

Tian Huashan, seeing Mo Bai’s goodwill, felt elated. Although a disciple of Zilong Palace, he knew Guihai City was teeming with hidden talents. Many would be summoned for the Lingjue Tournament, and standing out would win the old city lord’s favor—an opportunity that could change his fortunes. Yet besting so many formidable opponents would not be easy—he could name at least a dozen strong rivals. So when he heard Zhang Biao’s account of the Dubai Pavilion incident, he immediately thought to enlist Mo Bai and his companions.

After a moment’s thought, Tian Huashan said, “It’s as if he’s become a different person!”

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