Wang Anfeng stayed temporarily on this oasis where Shaman was, identifying himself as a doctor. Firstly, he wanted to understand the current state of the Parthian Empire from the local people. He knew where so important figures of the White Tiger Hall ntioned by Jiu Zizai were, but he was completely in the dark and couldn’t find any traces.
Secondly, he felt that, as a person of Great Qin, he should do so compensations for these Parthian people.
Just as Shaman said, the Parthians here harbored no hostility towards him, but they were sowhat distrustful initially. After all, he looked really young, and seed to always have a cold deanor, making him seem unapproachable.
Whether it was the elders who knew dicine among the Parthians, or the Great Qin doctors they had seen before, regardless of their dical skills, they all appeared amicable and reassuring—not like this.
Cold as a blade.
Initially, everyone still used old thods of treating injuries. In the first few days, besides An Da, Liu ngyan, and Shaman, almost no one went to find him.
But on the seventh day, a young hunter got severely injured. They tried various thods but couldn’t stop the bleeding, and he had completely fallen into a coma. His family had already lost hope, and the old lady at ho fainted imdiately.
Just when everyone was preparing to silently accept this turn of events, An Da softly suggested, why not take him to Doctor Feng?
The previously wailing crowd fell silent.
They exchanged glances, and after a while, the hunter’s father made the decision to bring his son to Wang Anfeng.
The Blade Madman, with a cold expression, dismissed everyone to stay outside the door, shut it with a bang, and with not a hint of politeness, locked the family’s pleas and cries outside.
Outside, the hunter’s father pressed his lips together, his eyes bleak.
He was even less certain in his heart...
Anyway, let’s try our luck.
It couldn’t get worse.
Everyone thought that young man was dood, and so muddle-headed people quietly discussed arrangents for the funeral.
So when, an hour later, the hunter, who was believed dood by the Parthians, was briskly sent out of the door by Wang Anfeng, all the old and young outside, who had started preparing for the funeral, looked at the equally baffled hunter with ghost-like eyes.
With the bang of a closing door, the village’s wisest elder frowned, finally realizing a problem.
This young-looking, probably foul-tempered man from Great Qin...
Has so impressive dical skills.
And after so ti, as not just one fellow went in horizontally and ca out vertically, Wang Anfeng received the highest level of treatnt here, and was given a Parthian na, Tashi Tsering.
The eagle flying from the sky, guiding the lost souls.
But perhaps this na, similar to those in myths, brought so sort of mysterious aura to Wang Anfeng. These Parthians, who do not read poetry and do not know to ’respect ghosts and gods but keep them at a distance,’ indeed respected him, but still did not approach closely.
Still, only An Da and Liu ngyan would co to find him.
Shaman had other things to do; during this ti she had to lead people to various oases to trade with others and gather and record the tributes of the past year, and then, when the weather ward, she would leave ho again, traveling on the road.
During this period, the relationship between Wang Anfeng and Liu ngyan improved significantly. Perhaps because they were both Han people, Liu ngyan was very close to Wang Anfeng, and she often ca over when there was nothing to do.
Wang Anfeng sat quietly on a red willow chair, cleaning the blade in his hand.
During this ti, he acquired a Parthian curved saber.
Although his broken blade was convenient to use, it was now too conspicuous. Once the Blade Madman’s reputation made it onto the Absolute List, it wasn’t just talked about within Great Qin. A few days ago, while casually chatting with Shaman, she ntioned hearing news in a nearby tropolis.
Among them was the unmatched Blade Madman of Great Qin. The latter had laughed and said how fast the news spread.
Wang Anfeng instantly realized that more than two months had passed. Even the Thirty-Six Western Regions, no matter how far away, knew that a new master had appeared in Central Plains. The Mo Blade was too conspicuous, disadvantageous to his movents, so he asked this martial enthusiast to get him a curved saber.
The latter agreed on the spot. When An Da ca over the next day, he brought an excellent curved saber—it was made of Hundred Refined Iron, with a more exaggerated curve than the waist saber of Great Qin, like fangs, exuding a chilling aura.
Wang Anfeng wiped both sides, lifted the curved saber, and looked at the blade from the side. He nodded slightly; this saber was already quite good, gifted by Shaman as an expression of gratitude to Wang Anfeng, but it was too light for him.
If he didn’t want this blade to shatter, it was best not to use Qi chanism.
Beside him, Liu ngyan spoke softly with Wang Anfeng in Central Plains language about today’s events. Born and raised in the Parthian Empire, she still spoke fluent Han language.
She had just finished talking about seeing An Da get thrown to the ground during practice. Suddenly, as if thinking of sothing, her black eyes, a unique trait of Han people, brightened with expectation:
"By the way, by the way, you’re also a Han, have you ever seen the Great River?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)