Chaotic Times and Disasters: I Hunt Down Martial Arts Masters and Become a God

That day, Fu Qing was watching Ma Xiong's veteran team run laps on the drill ground when a messenger ran up and said a few words. Fu Qing frowned.

...

The officers gradually arrived at the military tent. Han Yue sat next to Fu Qing, while Lao Qian held his teacup but didn't drink. Several centurions whispered among themselves, guessing what had happened.

Commander Zhou Tie was the last to enter. He lifted the tent flap to the side and said, "Sit down, everyone. City Lord Xu has important intelligence."

Xu Heng placed a secret letter from the military on the table. The sealing wax had been removed, and the seal was stamped with the joint seals of the military and the Imperial Pharmacy.

He scanned everyone present and said, "News has just come from Jingjing. There is a defector painter in Kangguo named Mo Shiqi. He is a fourth-grade painter and has reached the Creation Realm."

The generals present looked at each other in bewilderment.

Painting Path? Yasukuni is a nation founded on military might, and most of the people present have never even heard of the Painting Path.

Han Yue asked in a low voice, "What exactly is 'the Way of Painting'?"

Fu Qing shook his head; it was the first time he had ever heard of this either.

Xu Heng tapped his finger on the table. "The core of painting is creation. Reaching a high level of mastery allows one to bring the things in a painting to life!"

"Those painted by the fourth-grade Creation Realm are almost indistinguishable from the real thing—painting a horse is just painting a horse, which can run, carry loads, and charge. The only weakness is that it has a limited lifespan and will disappear when the time comes."

"Mo Shiqi defected to the Di Kingdom's court and was in charge of designing war supplies for the front lines, including warhorses, scimitars, arrows, and even siege equipment."

Zhou Tie stood up and spread a newly drawn border map on the table.

The area north of Langya Village on the map was marked with a striking red circle drawn with a vermilion pen, and a line of small text was added next to it.

He pressed his finger firmly on the red circle. "Latest intelligence from the scouts: the Di Kingdom has amassed a large number of cavalry north of Wolf Fang Village, far exceeding previous numbers. What's even stranger are the hoofprints on the ground..."

He flipped open a piece of scrap paper that was underneath the map; on it were several sets of charcoal drawings showing comparisons of hoof prints.

"These are hoof prints of ordinary steppe horses, and these are the hoof prints discovered this time. The depth is almost twice as deep. Normal steppe horses don't have such deep hoof prints. I suspect those horses were drawn."

Xu Heng picked up the conversation, "So we need to send someone to verify, to see for themselves whether it's a real horse or a fake one..."

"If it's a fake horse, we need to find out exactly where the painter is hiding, how many people are guarding it, and what he painted."

He looked up. "Which centurion is willing to go?"

Fu Qing raised his hand.

Zhou Tie glanced at him, his lips twitching. "I knew it was you."

Han Yue slammed his teacup on the table. "I'll go too."

Xiao Lu poked his head out from the back seat and said, "Wherever Brother Fu goes, I'll go."

Ma Xiong stood at the entrance of the military tent, arms crossed.

"I have two veterans in my team who are familiar with the terrain in this area, so I'll take them with me."

Zhou Tie looked at this person and then at that person, and sighed, "You're going on a reconnaissance mission, not to fight a war."

Fu Qing tucked the knife into his waistband. "Few people, small target, that's enough."

Zhou Tie nodded, his expression grave. "Di Gouzi's activities have been too frequent lately. He even hired an artist to help. I have a feeling something's not right. Be careful."

Fu Qing nodded. "I understand."

...

The five people traveled light, without horses, and walked the entire way.

Fu Qing led the team, Han Yue scouted ahead on the left, Xiao Lu followed beside Fu Qing, and Ma Xiong's two veterans, Lao Huang and Shi Tou, brought up the rear.

Old Huang was in his early forties, with a scar on his face running from his temple to his ear, a mark left by the Di cavalry in Black Wind Gorge years ago...

Shi Tou is twenty-three years old. He doesn't like to talk and walks with his feet as light as a cat's. Ma Xiong said he used to be a hunter.

Fu Qing glanced at him again, "Then let's still work in the same industry."

...

They searched northwards, with Fu Qing walking in the middle of the group, occasionally glancing down at the grass beneath his feet—Old Zhao had taught him that the marks left on the grass could reveal a lot.

Horse hoofprints, human footprints, campfire ashes, gnawed bones, broken branches—everything leaves a mark on the grass, and the marks do not lie.

The person who taught him to read these marks is no longer here.

...

After traveling for nearly two days, Fu Qing found the secret camp of the Di Kingdom in a valley about fifty miles north of Langya Village.

The entrance to the valley is narrow, with steep earthen cliffs on both sides, covered with withered grass up to waist height.

Fu Qing lay on the cliff top and looked down. There were more than a dozen tents pitched at the bottom of the valley, with hundreds of warhorses tethered between them.

The warhorses stood in neat rows, motionless, without swishing their tails, pawing their hooves, or snorting. Even the normal rise and fall of their bellies when they breathed was barely visible.

"Something's wrong with these horses."

Han Yue lay down next to Fu Qing, staring at the herd of horses at the bottom of the valley. He nudged Xiao Lu to get a closer look at the horse manes.

"There was no wind at the bottom of the valley, but the wind was howling at the top of the cliff, yet the horses' manes remained completely still."

Even without wind, a real horse's mane will sway back and forth, but these horses' manes look like they're glued to their necks.

Xiao Lu squinted and stared for a while, then his expression changed.

Fu Qing's gaze passed over the herd of horses and landed in front of the largest tent in the center of the camp.

A wool blanket was laid out at the entrance of the tent, and a person in a long robe sat cross-legged on the blanket, with a blank scroll about half a person's height in front of him.

The man looked to be under forty years old. He was thin, with long hair tied casually behind his head with a hemp rope, and his cuffs were stained with ink.

He held a purple bamboo brush in his right hand, the tip of which moved swiftly across the scroll as he painted yet another warhorse.

As the last stroke was completed, the man raised his hand, and a flash of white light appeared. A warhorse exactly like the one in the painting material materialized out of thin air next to the tent.

The guards immediately stepped forward, led the horse away, and tied it to the herd. The painter, without ever looking up, had already unfurled the next blank scroll.

Fu Qing noticed that after each painting, his brushstrokes slowed down a little.

The first few paintings were completed in one go with swift and powerful strokes, but by the eighth one, his wrists began to tremble, a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his left hand, which was holding the edge of the scroll, was also trembling slightly.

He had to stop and catch his breath before continuing to paint the ninth horse.

"He paints using the power of artistic conception, which consumes his own spirit and energy. The more he paints, the more he consumes. It looks like he will need to rest after painting ten or so pieces."

Han Yue had sharp eyes and immediately saw through the trick.

There were quite a few guards in the camp. Fu Qing counted at least three Di Kingdom centurions at the Meridian Opening Realm, standing in a triangular formation around the painter.

One person was drinking tea in a tent to the left of the artist, another was sharpening a knife in an open space to the right of the artist, and yet another was warming himself by a campfire behind the artist.

There were also about thirty body tempering realm guards scattered throughout the camp, some feeding horses, some playing cards, and some sleeping.

Fu Qing's current cultivation level is at 11% of the first stage of the Meridian Opening Realm. He can easily fight one-on-one against someone of the same level, but fighting three opponents while also ensuring the safe retreat of four brothers is too risky.

Moreover, although the artist himself may not seem to be very strong in combat, who knows what kind of life-saving methods a fourth-rank painter might have.

He reached out and pressed down on Han Yue's shoulder. "Withdraw. This intelligence is more valuable than risking killing him."

...

As they retreated, it was already getting dark. The five men walked back along the shadows of the cliff face. When they reached a grove of low trees outside the valley entrance, they ran into a patrol team from the Di Kingdom.

There were seven or eight people, led by a squad leader who was at the eighth level of Body Tempering, with a broad-backed curved sword hanging at his waist. The two groups bumped into each other face to face at the edge of the woods, and both were stunned for a moment.

The quartermaster's gaze swept across Fu Qing's face, his pupils suddenly contracted, and he spoke in the Di language, at which point the cavalry behind him simultaneously drew their swords.

Han Yue understood a few words and lowered his voice to tell Fu Qing that what that guy said was true.

"That's the Yasukuni man who snapped the neck of the centurion!"

Since the battle of Langya Village, Fu Qing's portrait has spread throughout the various tribes of the Di Kingdom.

The centurion's hand holding the knife trembled slightly. He wasn't afraid of death; men of the grasslands are not afraid of death.

But standing before him was a man who had stormed into Wolf Fang Village and snapped the neck of a centurion.

He gritted his teeth, raised his scimitar, and roared. The patrol behind him charged forward, their courage failing them.

Fu Qing cleaved the squad leader in two with a single stroke. The other patrolmen saw the squad leader fall in an instant, and the remaining men exchanged glances and turned to run.

But bugle calls were already coming from the distant camp. The centurion's shout had still managed to send out the alarm.

Han Yue urged them to hurry up, but Fu Qing squatted down and pulled a deerskin bag out of the sergeant's saddlebag.

The bag was heavy. When I opened it, I found three scrolls and a bronze token engraved with the Di language. The paper on the scrolls was exactly the same as the blank scroll in front of the painter.

Fu Qing tucked the deerskin bag into his clothes.

"Walk!"

The five men disappeared into the grove of trees and into the night, the sound of horns echoing through the valley behind them, but the pursuers were too late.

...

It was already evening of the second day when they returned to Ironblood City. Xu Heng received Fu Qing in the study of the city lord's mansion, where Zhou Tie was also sitting.

Fu Qing placed the deerskin bag on the table, and Xu Heng picked up a scroll and unrolled it. The scroll contained line drawings of several warhorses that had not yet been given a physical form.

Xu Heng closed his eyes and sensed for a moment. "It is indeed a genuine work of painting. This wisp of artistic conception cannot be faked. Mo Shiqi is undoubtedly at least at the Creation Realm."

He carefully rolled up the scroll. "Commander Fu, this intelligence is the most valuable intelligence Ironblood City has gathered this year. You've had a hard time on this trip, go home and rest for a couple of days."

Fu Qing nodded and left the token on the table.

Zhou Tie chimed in from the side, "What did I say? This kid always exceeds expectations on missions."

...

Fu Qing pushed open the gate to his courtyard. Under the jujube tree, Song Yawei was dozing on a bamboo recliner covered with a thin blanket, clutching a half-sewn bib in her hand.

Song Nini fell asleep on the stone table next to her sister, with a bowl of cold pork rib soup beside her, a thin layer of oil on the surface of the soup.

The light in the kitchen was still on, and the rice left for him was warming in the pot.

Fu Qing gently picked up Song Yawei and carried her into the house, covering her with a blanket. He then carried Song Nini inside and placed her next to her sister. Afterward, he returned to the kitchen and lifted the pot lid—

A bowl of braised pork, a plate of stir-fried vegetables, and two steamed buns were all kept warm with hot water.

He leaned against the stove and ate a steamed bun with the vegetables, feeling quite content.

...

Meanwhile, on the boundless grassland, a cluster of tents sat like stars surrounding the moon.

The most magnificent tent in the center was brightly lit, and the faint sound of voices could be heard.

The robust Di man sat in the main seat, looking at the scholar opposite him. "Sir, I am very sorry about Lord Duan's situation. After all, we have always done good business together."

The scholar in the long robe smiled. "Fortunately, City Lord Duan has left and made other arrangements... King of the Grasslands, I've come to deliver the Valley Master's reply. The Valley Master has agreed to help you!"

The bare-chested Di Wang suddenly stood up. "Is it really so, Mr. Wu! Where is the Valley Master's support?"

"We will arrive soon. The Valley Master has only one request: when we storm the Jingguo Imperial Palace, the Valley Master will take the remains of the Heart Corpse."

Di Wang laughed heartily, "Of course, we grasslands don't need that kind of thing!"