Chapter 161 — The Division of Strength

That male escort, spineless or not, and whether or not he was unwilling to offend a customer like the refined man, he stood for the bar. He was the bar's own man!

However overbearing the refined man might be as a customer, he still would not disregard the bar's face and simply drive the male escort away. At the very least he would give him a small tip by way of compensation, so that everyone could keep face.

But the moment the male escort saw the refined man, he had not spoken a single word — he had simply risen and left. That meant the refined man was very likely one of the bar's own people; which was why he had departed without an instant's hesitation.

Once he had settled that, Wei Zhao could not be bothered to keep playing games with the refined man. Beating him up would be simple enough — but inside the man's own bar, Wei Zhao had no wish to solve his problems by such crude and brutal means.

True, he could take down one man, even a whole crowd of them — but that would expose his strength under everyone's eyes. Not the whole of it, perhaps, but doing so might invite even more frenzied measures to follow.

These people were not the same as Zhong Yongliang and Bu Ruoming back at school. Wei Zhao could feel it: even Gu Pengzhan was somewhat wary of whoever was moving against Gu Mengyao. For it was not one person but a faction, a power bloc — and what had surfaced so far might be only the tip of the iceberg.

So Wei Zhao simply exposed the refined man's purpose outright, forcing whoever was directing him to step forward and speak for himself. That way he need not reveal his own strength too early, and he could also probe the other side's true depth.

To date, all Wei Zhao had shown was speed — nothing more. Blocking the bullet in the bank, stealing the gun in the car — none of it had betrayed his real strength.

And just now, as he rose and seized the refined man's arm, Wei Zhao had measured it precisely, using a strength only slightly above the refined man's own, feeding him false information.

Modern people divide the martial arts into four grades: Heaven, Earth, Mystic, and Yellow. Each grade is further divided into three levels — early, middle, and late.

In truth, this too was only a rough division for assessing strength. Since each family cultivated different arts, two men both at the early Yellow grade might still differ in certain subtle ways — though probably not by much.

Wei Zhao had learned this back in the special forces. His own old man and his master, however, did not use such ranks to measure strength.

What the old man emphasized was body-forging — what common folk called external skill — though he remade the body with traditional medicine of his own compounding. His master, by contrast, emphasized assassination; though the early stage likewise required body-forging, it centered mostly on ambush and speed.

Under the old man's forging, Wei Zhao's present strength roughly rivaled the peak of the late Yellow grade. Yet with assassination and surprise attack at his disposal, he could also bring down a good Mystic-grade fighter. Fighters of that level were already uncommon in the city; at least, on the battlefield Wei Zhao had met only one, and he was a foreigner.

As for the Xuanyuan Dragon-Abiding Formula that Wei Zhao practiced, it resembled somewhat the internal-school arts cultivated by certain families — though so far, the first layer had not raised his strength very noticeably.

Practicing the Xuanyuan Dragon-Abiding Formula had done no more than cleanse and refine his body to a degree. Old Man Wei's external medicine could at most alter muscle and sinew; it had no effect upon the organs. The Xuanyuan Dragon-Abiding Formula was different — it could remake the whole body.

So far Wei Zhao had discovered only that the Xuanyuan Dragon-Abiding Formula held an absolute advantage against fatigue, and what he had just found was that the energy elements within his body could be of some help to the sick.

Beyond that, wondrous as the Xuanyuan Dragon-Abiding Formula was, it was only at the first layer, and its boost to his strength was not great.

Yet there was one most striking improvement, a discovery that delighted Wei Zhao: he could sense the energy fluctuations on the refined man's body!

This had never happened before. He had traded blows with Yellow-grade and even Mystic-grade fighters on the battlefield, but to know an opponent's strength he had always had to fight him first. Now, once the first layer of the Xuanyuan Dragon-Abiding Formula had taken initial form, Wei Zhao could actually sense upon the refined man's body energy fluctuations like those he himself absorbed!

He must be a cultivator of internal skill as well; only, what art he practiced was unknown. The energy fluctuations in his body were weaker than Wei Zhao's own — he should be at the early Yellow grade.

So Wei Zhao had manufactured an illusion of being a shade stronger than he was, letting him mistake him for the peak of the early Yellow grade, on the verge of breaking through to the middle.

Of course, there were exceptions.

That Wu Chengtian from before — Wei Zhao could tell he was a body-forger, one who chiefly trained the skill of his hands. But body-forgers carried no energy fluctuations at all, so Wei Zhao could not judge his grade... or rather, Wu Chengtian was so weak that the energy in his body was negligible.

"..." The refined man had not expected Wei Zhao to say outright that there was someone behind him. It threw his plans into complete disarray!

The refined man's original plan had been this: come here and lay hands on Gu Mengyao, work her into a fury — then Wei Zhao would surely step in. That would let him sound out Wei Zhao's strength. If Wei Zhao proved weaker, he would seize the chance to teach him a lesson, after which the boss would come out to settle matters.

But now the strength Wei Zhao displayed was not a fraction weaker than the refined man's own. The two were likely evenly matched — Wei Zhao perhaps a shade stronger — and further probing would be meaningless. Yet when Wei Zhao demanded that the boss come out, the refined man could not bring himself to decide.

As he hesitated, the phone at his waist rang. Damn it — at such a critical moment, who was calling? The refined man felt like cursing. His arm was still gripped in Wei Zhao's hand; the two of them stood poised like drawn swords, one spark from exploding.

If he went to answer the phone now and Wei Zhao pulled something dirty on him, he was finished. The refined man dared not be careless. Against a fighter of Wei Zhao's level he had no confidence of certain victory; whoever let his attention wander or gave ground first might suffer badly.

"Answer it. A call at a time like this — I imagine it's the one behind you." Wei Zhao smiled at the refined man and released his arm, as though he had no fear at all that the man might turn on him.

The refined man had not expected Wei Zhao to let him go so easily. He gave Wei Zhao a long, deep look and fished the phone from his waist — yet his eyes never left Wei Zhao. Generous as Wei Zhao's manner seemed, instinct told the refined man that this man was wicked and treacherous.

A glance at the caller ID on the screen: it was Brother Cihua.

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