DPECT 10

Chapter – 10

My Goal Is the Forest

On the second floor of Yongchun Hall, in the tea room, a man and a woman sat facing each other.

Lan Zhijie stared at the young woman before him with scorching eyes, his body surging with restless heat.

As a scion of a martial arts family, he had tasted many women, but he had never seen anyone as exquisite as He Shiyun.

This woman—every smile, every frown, every gesture—exuded boundless charm, not to mention her unparalleled figure.

“What are you staring at? Never seen a woman before?” Yan Bing snapped.

“If I’m not looking at her, should I look at you? Even a fried egg would be bigger than you.”

Lan Zhijie shot a mocking glance at Yan Bing.

Yan Bing instantly drew her dagger.

“Yan Bing, don’t be rash.”

He Shiyun stopped her and fixed her eyes on Lan Zhijie. “The Lan family is, after all, the only martial arts family south of the river. Mr. Lan, your words are rather small-minded.”

“For a woman with ‘big’ *prospects* like Boss He, my *prospects* are big too. But for someone with such ‘small’ *prospects* like her, my *prospects* just can’t get big—no interest at all.”

When he said the word “prospects,” Lan Zhijie deliberately emphasized it, his gaze darting between the two women’s chests, his meaning unmistakable.

Yan Bing’s face turned pale and green, her hand gripping the dagger trembling slightly.

“Yan Bing, go see if Zhang Yang is back,” He Shiyun instructed.

Yan Bing left the tea room without looking back and waited downstairs.

As soon as Zhang Yang walked in, she hurried over to him.

“Why do you look so upset?”

“That bastard said I’m smaller than a fried egg.”

Pfft!

Seeing her glare at him ferociously, Zhang Yang immediately stifled his laugh. “How outrageous! I’ll go settle this with him.”

He charged upstairs with a fierce demeanor.

The moment he stepped into the tea room, Zhang Yang noticed that He Shiyun—usually so composed—had a dark look on her face.

If even a woman as calm as her was showing such an unpleasant expression, it meant Lan Zhijie must have said something truly vile.

Lan Zhijie lazily looked up, ready to mock Zhang Yang, but before he could utter a word, a heavy slap landed on his face.

The entire tea room echoed with the sharp sound of the slap.

Lan Zhijie was stunned.

He Shiyun and Yan Bing were stunned too. Neither woman had expected Zhang Yang to be so utterly devoid of martial ethics—attacking without warning.

“I’ll kill you!”

Lan Zhijie erupted in fury and shot to his feet.

*Smack!*

Another slap sent him flying, crashing into a nearby tea shelf. It took him a long moment to stagger back up.

“She’s my master. Even I wouldn’t dare insult her. Who the hell do you think you are, to speak to her like that?” Zhang Yang said, pointing at Yan Bing.

*Swish!*

Lan Zhijie drew a short blade and lunged viciously at Zhang Yang.

After being slapped twice, he had completely lost his composure. This strike was wild and undisciplined—no different from a street thug.

Zhang Yang sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and slammed his shoulder into him.

Lan Zhijie’s body flew backward, crashing hard against the wall and spitting out blood.

He tried to charge again but found his *zhenqi* (internal energy) sluggish—the collision had actually injured him internally.

*Damn it, this bastard is really insidious.*

Lan Zhijie thought for a moment and instantly realized he had been tricked.

This kid had ambushed him from the start, seriously wounding him. If they continued to fight, he would definitely lose.

Zhang Yang picked up the challenge letter and read it.

“A challenge, huh? Good. Let’s take it outside. Whoever doesn’t fight is a coward.”

*Pfft!*

Lan Zhijie spat out another mouthful of blood.

This time, it was from sheer rage.

Injured like this, how could he fight?

“Zhang Yang, just you wait,” Lan Zhijie said, clutching his chest as he staggered out.

“If you don’t dare fight, then get lost.”

As he went downstairs, Lan Zhijie missed a step and tumbled down.

“I told you to get lost, and you actually rolled down—more obedient than a dog.”

Zhang Yang burst out laughing.

The gloom on Yan Bing’s face vanished, replaced by a rare girlish smile.

He Shiyun laughed too. It had been a long time since she’d felt this happy.

“Just now—was that intentional?” He Shiyun asked with a smile.

“Sister Yun, you’re as sharp as ever. Nothing gets past you.” Zhang Yang nodded. “I haven’t been training with Yan Bing for long, so my chances of winning aren’t great. Even if I could win, it would likely be a narrow victory. Better to injure him and buy some time.”

“So your anger just now was all an act?” Yan Bing pouted.

“No, I was genuinely angry. You’re my master—how could I let anyone humiliate you?”

“Such a smooth talker. I’ll be waiting in the training room. Come over quickly.”

With that, Yan Bing left, her face flushed.

Zhang Yang was about to leave when He Shiyun called him back. “Has Yan Bing ever told you about her past?”

Zhang Yang nodded. “She mentioned it. She used to be a special forces soldier.”

“Five years ago, on a rainy night, her mission failed and she was being hunted. I saved her and brought her back. From that day on, she stayed by my side as my bodyguard. Over the years, she’s saved me countless times. Over a dozen scars on her body are from protecting me. In my heart, she’s more important than my own family.”

“So, what are you trying to say?”

He Shiyun took out a document folder and placed it on the table. “I know your goal is Yongchun Hall. I can transfer ownership to you for free—on one condition: you marry Yan Bing.”

He Shiyun was without a doubt the most perceptive woman Zhang Yang had ever met.

He had never told her he wanted Yongchun Hall, nor had he ever shown it—yet she saw right through him.

A woman this intelligent, if she stayed by his side to help, would be his greatest asset in his career.

Zhang Yang took the contract and glanced over it. “Total value of twenty million. Looks tempting.”

He Shiyun: “So, what’s your decision?”

Zhang Yang set the contract aside and countered, “How much do you think I’m worth?”

“In martial arts, there are tiers: Postnatal Expert, Prenatal Expert, Grandmaster, and Great Grandmaster. For someone your age to have already reached the Prenatal Expert level is rare. But that’s it. You will never reach the Grandmaster level in your lifetime.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“My husband was once the youngest Prenatal Expert in China, born into a martial arts family. At eighteen, he became a Postnatal Expert; at twenty-five, he was the number one fighter below Grandmaster. Yet, with the help of countless rare medicinal herbs, he spent over a decade—abandoning his wife and family, retreating deep into the mountains to cultivate in seclusion—and still couldn’t break through to Grandmaster. Your talent is far inferior to my husband’s, and you have no background. What makes you think you can surpass the Grandmaster realm?”

He Shiyun stared at Zhang Yang intently, her expression serious.

Zhang Yang smiled faintly and did not argue.

Her analysis was spot on—but she overlooked one crucial point: he was not a martial cultivator at all. It was just that, at his current low level, his abilities appeared no different from those of ancient martial artists.

“Even if you could reach the Grandmaster realm, able to fight a hundred enemies—so what? Can you achieve immortality?”

“By then, you’d be forty or fifty years old. Your young wife would have aged, her beauty faded. Your children grown. But you would have never been there for them. You’d have toiled your whole life, yet missed the prime of your years. Is that worth it?”

“Life is short. I hope you’ll think it over carefully. Yan Bing is a good girl.”

He Shiyun picked up the contract again and handed it to Zhang Yang.

Their eyes met in a long, silent gaze.

After a while, Zhang Yang pushed the contract back.

“The path I walk will be harder than your husband’s—but my achievements will be beyond his reach.”

Martial artists have a ceiling. Even at the pinnacle, they cannot extend their lifespan. But cultivation for immortality could.

Why would Zhang Yang bind himself to a woman for a mere twenty million?

His goal was the forest.

*(Readers, be patient. Like courting a woman, it’s not just about the payoff—the process matters too.)*