The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 173

Bai Ruoxi did indeed need to go to Beijing—or rather, she would soon be working there permanently.

She had already given up her overseas job for Jiang Fei, abandoning her dream of becoming a war correspondent, something she had once yearned for. But this was her limit. She couldn’t possibly retreat further, quitting journalism altogether to become a full-time housewife, could she?

If she wanted to keep her prestigious state-affiliated media position, staying in Jincheng wasn’t an option—Beijing was the only choice.

Working domestically, even if not in the same city as Jiang Fei, would at least bring them closer. A two- or three-hour flight was manageable.

Her leave wasn’t over yet, but in two days, she’d have to head to Beijing to handle some formalities. So when she overheard Jiang Fei and Cui Xiuping’s conversation, she stepped in.

“When does this conference start?” she asked.

Cui Xiuping’s eyes lit up. If there was any hope of persuading the stubborn Jiang Fei, it lay with this beautiful woman. “In three days!” he answered eagerly.

Bai Ruoxi nodded, linking her arm with Jiang Fei’s. “Perfect. I’m flying to Beijing the day after tomorrow to sort out work. Why not come with me?”

Jiang Fei sighed inwardly. Just discharged from the hospital, and now he had to board a flight? He really wasn’t in the mood for travel. But with Bai Ruoxi asking, how could he refuse?

After all, she had returned to China for him. If she was settling in Beijing, the least he could do was accompany her and help her settle in.

As Cui Xiuping earnestly extended the invitation again, Jiang Fei forced a wry smile. “Fine. I’ll take a look at this TCM Association of yours.”

Cui Xiuping exhaled in relief. Finally. If he’d failed to secure Jiang Fei’s attendance, not only would his pride have suffered, but he’d also have no way to explain it to his grandfather.

The elder Cui, a revered master of traditional medicine, held the long-lost Divine Needle Eight Techniques in extremely high regard. His personal invitation alone spoke volumes about how seriously he took Jiang Fei.

“Give me your number,” Cui Xiuping said. “When you arrive in Beijing, I’ll arrange for someone to pick you up.”

Jiang Fei agreed, exchanging contact details. Having a guide in an unfamiliar city was never a bad idea.

…

Coffee and Conspiracies

As wealth and cosmopolitan tastes grew in China, so did the popularity of cafés.

Whether for artsy types, wealthy heirs, or successful professionals, cafés had become the go-to spot for gatherings. Shangdao Coffee, though lacking the legacy of foreign chains like Starbucks or Left Bank, thrived just as well.

That afternoon, the sunny skies abruptly gave way to rain, sending pedestrians scurrying. Sitting by the café’s floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping coffee to the tune of soft music, was undeniably pleasant.

If the scene starred a beautiful woman or a handsome man, it might have drawn admiring glances—after all, as the saying goes, “Romantic allure thrives in the rain.”

But some people existed solely to ruin such ambiance.

THUD.

A hulking man, easily over 6’3″ and 220 pounds, barged in. His loose hoodie couldn’t hide his muscular frame as he plopped onto a chair, making it groan in protest.

A mocha with delicate latte art awaited him, but he ignored the presentation. After a cursory blow to cool it, he—

GULP.

—downed the entire cup in one go, then let out an unrefined “Ah!” “Tastes awful,” he grumbled in a gravelly voice.

Across from him sat a man of stark contrast—elegant, poised, every bit the European aristocrat. “Coffee isn’t meant to be chugged like water,” he remarked, amused.

The giant’s face, though rugged, carried a harmless, almost simple-minded air. “C’mon, Hua Shao, spare me this high-class stuff. I barely got used to tea—coffee’s a lost cause.”

Hua Shao (the elegant man) stirred his coffee gracefully. “No one’s born knowing these things. And coffee isn’t just for the elite.”

The giant, Tian Fei, scratched his head. “I’m slow with this kinda thing.”

Hua Shao waved it off. “Enough small talk. How’s the mission?”

Tian Fei’s dopey expression vanished. “All traces erased. Even if someone suspects, they’ll find zero evidence.”

“Good.” Hua Shao nodded. “But this Jiang Fei… Is he really that capable? Neutralized Old Wu’s poison, took down two assassins—one dead, one injured?”

Tian Fei’s eyes flashed with frustration. “Guy came outta nowhere. I dug deep but hit a wall. But say the word, and I’ll handle him. Guaranteed.”

Hua Shao chuckled at Tian Fei’s eagerness. “Not yet. Our primary plan with the Ye family’s elder failed. Killing Jiang Fei now would just be petty revenge. A man who excels in medicine, combat, and music? Frankly, I’m intrigued.”

Tian Fei reluctantly conceded.

“What about Old Wu?” he asked, mimicking a throat-slash.

“Give him another chance,” Hua Shao decided. “Send him to Beijing tomorrow. One last mission. Fail, and he’s finished.”

As Tian Fei left, the rain intensified.

…

Just then, a couple entered the café.

The woman, though plain-faced, wore luxury from head to toe—a limited-edition LV clutch, a Hermès scarf worth thousands.

But the man stole attention: long hair tied in a stylish ponytail, delicate features, and mesmerizing peach-blossom eyes—so handsome it was almost unfair to women.

This was Jiang Fei’s acquaintance, the “effeminate” pretty boy Jing Ran, and Ye Yuanyuan’s best friend, Bai Mangguo.

As they passed Tian Fei, the two men exchanged glances—Jing Ran with his charming smile, Tian Fei with his trademark dopey grin.

Spotting Hua Shao, Jing Ran led Manggu oover.

Mangguo was thrilled. Jing Ran had not only invited her out but was introducing her to his friends—a clear sign of deepening intimacy. Maybe tonight’s the night, she mused, eyeing him.

“Meeting someone else earlier?” Jing Ran asked casually as they sat.

“Hua Shao”—full name Hua Handong—nodded. “The man you just passed.”

Jing Ran smiled knowingly. “No wonder he stood out.”

Mangguo, meanwhile, marveled at the two handsome men. Birds of a feather…

Hua Handong broke her reverie. “You must be Mangguo. Jing Ran’s talked about you often.”

Mangguo beamed. Compliments, especially about Jing Ran’s interest, were catnip.

“Between us,” Hua Handong teased, “who’s better-looking?”

“Jing Ran, obviously!” she replied without hesitation.

Hua Handong sighed in mock defeat. “Ever since him, my ‘handsome’ title’s been revoked.”

As Mangguo giggled, Hua Handong and Jing Ran shared a glance—one brimming with unspoken understanding.