Chapter Sixteen: The Wheel-Turning Monarch

At this moment, watching the crowd below madly scramble for a series of ordinary portraits, the Wheel King was swept by a peculiar thrill—a sensation born of power, the force of wealth itself.

After quietly savoring this surge of pleasure, the Wheel King turned without hesitation and left.

Seeing him go, Zhuge Zhengwo hurried to follow. But after trailing him some way, Zhuge Zhengwo realized something was amiss. Wasn’t the Wheel King supposed to be a eunuch? And this wasn’t the way back to the palace, either.

The truth was, Zhuge Zhengwo had come prepared for the worst; he even suspected the Wheel King might be one of the three—Cao Zhengchun, Yu Huadian, or Liu Xi. But this path, leading who knows where, made him waver.

Before he could decide on his next move, the unexpected occurred.

“Friend, after following me all the way from the inn, you must be tired. Why not come out and have a word?” The voice was low, raspy, and clearly feigned, drifting from not far ahead.

It was the Wheel King speaking. He had already turned around and was gazing quietly toward the alley where Zhuge Zhengwo was concealed.

But Zhuge Zhengwo was a master of martial arts. Even when his presence was discovered, he showed no sign of alarm. Calmly, he drew a black cloth from his sleeve, tied it over his face, and strolled out with measured ease.

The moment Zhuge Zhengwo stepped from the alley, more than twenty Black Stone assassins surged out, blocking the street before and behind.

“How did you discover me? Judging by this scene, it seems you prepared a special reception,” Zhuge Zhengwo asked, voicing his doubt.

Could he have been betrayed? Impossible! The only ones who knew were Coldblood, Heartless, and the others, and Zhuge Zhengwo trusted they would never do such a thing.

“My friend, it appears you lack experience in the ways of the martial world. From the moment I left the inn, you never took your eyes off me, barely glancing at others when they spoke. Everyone here tonight came for money—except you. It was obvious you came for me,” the Wheel King kindly explained.

Zhuge Zhengwo, a little embarrassed, covered his face and muttered to himself, “Ah, concern clouds judgment. I’m getting old, truly—no longer up to the task.”

His voice was so low the Wheel King couldn’t catch the words, but he didn’t press the matter, instead asking with some confusion, “What brings you here, friend? Are you here for business, or vengeance? Is your grudge with me, or with Black Stone?”

He waited for Zhuge Zhengwo’s reply, but unexpectedly, Zhuge Zhengwo gave no answer. His legs moved in a flash, right hand forming a palm, and he charged directly at the Wheel King!

The sudden outburst of a seasoned martial grandmaster caught everyone off guard—including the Wheel King himself.

Without suspense, Zhuge Zhengwo’s palm struck the Wheel King’s right shoulder squarely. The Wheel King was sent flying several meters, spitting blood as he hit the ground, the black cloth slipping from his face to reveal an aged countenance wholly unfamiliar to Zhuge Zhengwo.

Yet Zhuge Zhengwo was shocked—how could his strike have landed so easily?

Encircled, Zhuge Zhengwo had already steeled himself for death, determined to make the Wheel King pay even at the cost of his life—a final act of loyalty to his country. But when his palm struck, the Wheel King’s defensive energy retaliated only at the level of a top-tier first-class expert.

Suspicious, Zhuge Zhengwo asked directly, “Are you the Wheel King? Not a double?”

The Wheel King nearly spat blood again at that. So you attacked without even knowing who I was?

“Yes, I am the Wheel King. Have we met before? Perhaps there’s been some misunderstanding between us,” the Wheel King replied, struggling to his feet, his tone softening.

He had no choice; facing a true grandmaster, what else could he do?

With confirmation, Zhuge Zhengwo grew even more puzzled. Still, the greatest threat was gone, so he pressed on, “You’re the Wheel King? Then why aren’t you a grandmaster?”

There was no mockery in his tone—just genuine curiosity. But to the Wheel King, it sounded all the more derisive.

In that instant, the Wheel King felt his injuries deepen. He cursed inwardly: Did you think becoming a grandmaster was as easy as picking cabbage in the market? I’ve trained for decades to reach top-tier first-class! Across the land, how many can claim such a rank? And yet to you, if I’m not a grandmaster, I’m nothing?

The Wheel King wanted nothing more than to ignore Zhuge Zhengwo, but the situation permitted no such luxury. He could only mutter, “Might I ask, friend, what brings you here tonight? If there’s anything you need, Black Stone will do its utmost to oblige.”

On the other side, all were first-class at best—what need had a grandmaster to fear?

Zhuge Zhengwo, his old heart tightening and relaxing in turns, felt as if he’d shed a few years, his spirits lifted. And now, true mockery crept into his voice.

“Oh, I haven’t come for anything major. I just need to borrow your life for a while. So, will you come with me, or shall I kill you here and now?”

The Wheel King, already battered, was immune to such taunts by now. But upon hearing Zhuge Zhengwo’s words, his face darkened.

“So, there’s nothing to discuss?”

Zhuge Zhengwo merely smiled, saying nothing, just as he had at the inn—gazing silently at the Wheel King.

Seeing this, the Wheel King’s mind raced. With a flick of his wrist, several hidden weapons appeared in his palm. He flung them at Zhuge Zhengwo’s face and shouted to his men, “Kill him! Whoever brings me his head, I’ll reward with ten thousand taels of silver!”

The price sent the eyes of the twenty-odd Black Stone assassins bloodshot. They charged in, howling.

Zhuge Zhengwo tilted his head to dodge the hidden weapons, then sent several attackers sprawling with a casual motion. He glanced around—no sign of the Wheel King.

He’d fled!

Zhuge Zhengwo wanted to pursue, but it was impossible. As previously said, even a grandmaster can die from a single blade. Surrounded by more than twenty assassins, not a gap in sight, there was no hope of escaping by leaping over them. Besides, each one was at least a third-rate master—who here didn’t know some lightness skill?

Pursuit was not the same as holding the line; a single misstep might mean many wounds. Not worth the risk.

Besides, he’d already seen the Wheel King’s true face. He could find him in the palace later. For now, it was best to deal with the rabble before him.

And so began a slaughter—one grandmaster against a host of lesser foes.