Lu Zheng sucked in a sharp breath.
Lord Gao, named Gao Xiu, was a woman, two metres tall, broad-shouldered, long-legged, and robust, clad in iron armour with a black cape flowing behind her.
Her straight brows and almond eyes framed a stern, commanding face, not beautiful but exuding a heroic, almost masculine aura.
As a black bear spirit, her presence was even more imposing than Hu Yijun’s.
Her husband, Wang Muran, was a mortal, dressed in plain white Confucian robes, refined in appearance with silver streaks at his temples. Though a full head shorter than Gao Xiu, his scholarly air was impressive.
Lu Zheng had heard from Hu Yijun that, despite modest talent, Wang Muran had entered the path of cultivation thanks to Gao Xiu’s vast resources. Longevity was out of reach, but living healthily to a hundred was achievable.
As for their daughter, Gao Junyu…
She stood one metre eighty, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and powerful legs, her face striking and her gaze sharp as an eagle’s.
If beauty was the measure, she was certainly more attractive than her mother, but her dominant trait was a bold, intimidating valour.
She too wore iron armour, though her cape was a vivid red. A maid followed, holding a long spear.
At a glance, Lu Zheng thought she rivalled the likes of Hua Mulan or Mu Guiying in appearance and aura, though her mental fortitude remained to be seen.
Lu Zheng saluted the couple. “Greetings, Lord Gao, Mr. Wang.”
They returned the gesture, and Gao Junyu stepped forward, curious. “Greetings, Mr. Lu.”
“Miss Gao,” Lu Zheng nodded, glancing at the spear in her maid’s hands. He patted his gourd, producing a gleaming silver dragon-coiled spear.
“Our first meeting, I have no spiritual treasures, but I heard you practice martial arts and favour long weapons. This mortal spear should serve you well for a time.”
When Lu Zheng had tried to commission a staff for Hou Ping, the owner of Wanren Ancient Sword Hall could no longer take such orders.
But Lu Zheng had bought many weapons there, becoming a valued client and friend, entering the man’s circle.
Through him, Lu Zheng joined a network obsessed with crafting peak-performance cold weapons, using the latest military-grade steel.
Hard. Durable. Resistant to wear, impact, and explosions.
Unless clashing with qi-infused flying swords or treasures, these were top-tier mortal weapons.
Hou Ping’s staff and the assorted weapons for the Peach Blossom Eighteen Heavenly Maidens were custom-made at this factory.
When ordering for them, Lu Zheng had commissioned extras for future needs.
Like now.
The spear’s shaft was one metre eighty, the head one foot two, entirely silver. The grip bore intricate fish-scale patterns for traction.
A coiled dragon adorned the shaft and head, its tail at the base, its head at the blade, eyes glaring, claws bared.
The spearhead, polished to a razor’s edge, gleamed under the sunlight, dazzling the eye.
Gao Junyu’s breath caught. When had she ever seen such a majestic spear?
Her slight disdain for Lu Zheng’s modest cultivation vanished. Excited, she swallowed hard, nearly reaching for it but glancing at her parents first.
Before she caught their eyes, Lu Zheng handed her the spear.
“What are you looking at? I’m Hu Zhou’s master, your elder. It’s said one doesn’t refuse an elder’s gift. This is my meeting present. Take it. What do your parents have to do with it?”
Gao Junyu blinked, her mind a whirl, not fully grasping his words. She wanted to return the spear but couldn’t bear to part with it.
Gao Xiu laughed heartily. “Mr. Lu, you’re straightforward. We won’t stand on ceremony. Junyu, thank Master Lu!”
Wang Muran stroked his beard, smiling. “An elder’s gift cannot be refused? Well said.”
Hu Yijun, stroking his beard, beamed with pride.
Gao Junyu, overjoyed, gripped the spear and bowed deeply. “Junyu thanks Master Lu for the weapon!”
“Master…”
Hu Zhou suddenly found his Xiuchun blade less appealing.
Lu Zheng glanced back, winking with his left eye.
Hu Zhou paused, then grinned, understanding, and said no more.
Lu Zheng took his seat, and the group sent Gao Junyu and Hu Zhou to stroll while they discussed the wedding date.
They settled on the tenth of October, six months hence, an auspicious day.
“Brother Lu, you and Miss Liu must come!” Hu Yijun said.
“Naturally, we’ll be there,” Lu Zheng replied with a smile.
Wang Yuzhi nodded repeatedly, her gratitude for Lu Zheng and Liu Qingyan deepening. Finding her husband and seeing her son betrothed, these days were beyond her wildest dreams two years ago.
With the wedding settled, they turned to idle talk. Wang Muran, noting Lu Zheng’s Confucian robes, discussed literature with him.
Fortunately, after gaining more fortune’s light, Lu Zheng had studied some Confucian texts of this world. Though not deeply interested, he could hold a conversation.
Soon, sounds of combat and cheers echoed from outside.
Gao Xiu shook her head. “That must be my daughter, eager to test her new weapon.”
Wang Yuzhi’s face paled, fearing for her son. Gao Junyu had always been measured before, but this time, she might be too excited.
She wasn’t worried about Hu Zhou losing, only about him getting hurt.
Though his cultivation meant minor injuries would heal quickly, what mother wants to see her son harmed?
Wang Muran, perceptive, noticed her reaction and smiled. “Let’s go see!”
The group exchanged smiles, rose in unison, and left the cave’s main hall. They spotted a platform plaza halfway up the mountain.
Sure enough, Gao Junyu and Hu Zhou were sparring.
Hu Zhou wielded his blade single-handedly, dodging and weaving, his blade whistling, faintly roaring like a tiger.
Gao Junyu stood firm in the plaza’s centre, her silver dragon-coiled spear dancing like a dragon.
One tiger, one dragon: the tiger darted across the mountain, the dragon coiled at its peak.
They traded offence and defence, locked in a fierce, inseparable clash.
Wang Yuzhi sighed in relief.
Her cultivation and insight were limited, so she couldn’t tell, but the others saw clearly. Despite appearances, Hu Zhou was entirely suppressed by Gao Junyu.
His dodging was forced.
His blade’s whistle couldn’t breach her guard.
Defeat was only a matter of time.
Sure enough, after a few rounds, Gao Junyu deflected the Xiuchun blade with a swing, her spear darting like an icy, fiery, venomous dragon, stopping at Hu Zhou’s chest.
The fight was over.
