SS CH19

The place known as the Qianlong Pavilion was not originally called that.

Located in the north courtyard of the Duanshui Manor, its long corridors once circled the water. At night, the reflection of the moon on the water created such a beautiful scene that, three years ago, it was known as the Yingyue Lang (Moon-Reflecting Corridor).

Three years ago, Xie Wuyi overthrew Xie Chongshan and took control of the entire manor. However, his disposition was extreme; having been betrayed once, he swore never to suffer it again. Even if it meant shattering his own bones, he was determined to drag his enemies down to their graves.

Taking advantage of the need for the “Ghost Physician” to seal his needles, he secretly struck a deal with the Hundred Ghost Sect. In his younger years, while wandering the Western Regions for survival, he had worked alongside merchants. Combined with the wealth left behind by the “Poison Chief,” he had significant capital. That deal was to purchase a batch of terrifying “Shock-Heaven Thunder” (explosives) from the Hundred Ghost Sect. He sent skilled craftsmen to secretly modify the manor, hiding half of the explosives in the west and south wings of the Moon-Reflecting Corridor. As long as the mechanism was triggered, the fuse would ignite instantly, blowing the place to pieces.

From then on, the Moon-Reflecting Corridor was renamed the Qianlong Pavilion—taken from the phrase, “The hidden dragon is in the abyss, and one emergence shakes the heavens.”

The remaining half of the explosives were stored in a secret chamber within the manor. Xie Wuyi had dismissed most of the guards and servants, leaving the manor nearly empty; only his most loyal confidants remained. Each of them carried a single explosive on their person, and the rest were distributed throughout the various courtyards, connected by fuses. Once the Qianlong Pavilion was triggered, these individuals would ignite their respective caches, causing the Duanshui Manor to be destroyed in a chain reaction of explosions.

Better to be shattered as jade than kept whole as tile—such was his resolve.

The corridors of the Qianlong Pavilion, constructed of bluestone that was brittle against wind and reactive to acid, began to collapse from the southwest the moment the explosives detonated. The fire spread rapidly, turning into a fire-dragon coiled upon the water. The heat was so intense it seemed it would steam the fish in the pond alive.

Li Feng and Bu Xueyao took flight the instant Xue Chanyi reached for the mechanism, narrowly avoiding the blast. With several deafening roars, the majority of the Burial Soul Palace members on the southwestern corridors were swept into the sky by the rolling fire. The survivors struggled in the pond or scrambled to the northeast, creating utter chaos.

As the Duanshui Manor turned into a sea of flames, Lu Mingyuan held his breath. He swept his white paper fan against the wind, using his internal strength to force back the encroaching wall of fire to protect the righteous martial artists behind him. Suddenly, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Xue Chanyi was covered in soot, blood, and sweat, looking as disheveled as a wild ghost. “The Manor Master has ordered me to lead you all out through the underwater passage! Follow me quickly!”

“Many thanks!” Lu Mingyuan knew the situation was beyond salvage. He rallied the survivors, helped the wounded, and jumped into the water behind Xue Chanyi, disappearing like dumplings falling into a pot.

Ye Fusheng did not follow. He gripped Xie Li tightly; the young boy was struggling, his usual practiced maturity gone. Suddenly, Ye Fusheng’s pupils contracted. He shielded Xie Li and leaped backward, kicking a falling beam at an attacker, only for the wood to be cleaved in two.

It was Li Feng and Bu Xueyao!

Ye Fusheng, holding Xie Li, felt the effects of the “Ghost Dream” poison gnawing at him. He dared not engage head-on, retreating with the Xiafei (Rosy Flight) qinggong. He brushed with death repeatedly, barely dodging a palm strike from Bu Xueyao before the Xueqing blade came crashing down.

Without hesitation, Ye Fusheng turned, letting his back take the brunt of the strike. He nearly vomited a mouthful of blood. Just as the Xueqing blade prepared to fall again, a flash of light erupted—the Duanshui and Xueqing blades clashed. Li Feng retreated three steps; Xie Wuyi retreated six.

“Before I die, you dare to touch anyone else?”

Xie Wuyi’s body was already going numb. His tiger-mouth (the web between thumb and index finger) was trembling so violently he could barely grip his saber. The backlash of internal energy and poison had numbed his senses, and though his back was shredded by the explosion, there was no pain on his face.

He flipped his hand, thrusting the Duanshui saber into Ye Fusheng’s hands. Xie Li was struck by the hilt, staring blankly at Xie Wuyi’s back. Xie Wuyi pulled a long blade from a corpse without looking back, merely smiling.

“Ah-Li, go with him. Don’t cry, and don’t look back.”

Before the words faded, Xie Wuyi engaged Li Feng once more. Ye Fusheng kicked off the ground and took to the sky, holding Xie Li.

—”Once I trigger the explosives, there are only two ways out of Duanshui Manor. Chanyi will take the righteous martial artists by water to the south of the city; it is safe but a large target, which will surely draw away most of the Burial Soul Palace’s forces. You take Ah-Li through the back mountain to the Wanghaichao prohibition zone to hide until the danger passes.”

Remembering Xie Wuyi’s morning instructions, Ye Fusheng sprinted over the collapsing roof and plunged into the mountain forest behind the manor wall.

Bu Xueyao let out a sharp cry, raising his Wangchen (Watching Dust) qinggong to pursue. Li Feng intended to follow, but Xie Wuyi, though at death’s door, fought with increasingly fierce saber techniques. Coupled with the fact that Li Feng had lost his right arm, they were locked in an inextricable struggle. With the pavilion collapsing around them, the two men were bathed in the bloody glow of the fire.

Through the thick, blinding smoke, Xie Wuyi caught a glimpse of a silhouette and slashed his long saber—only to slice through a severed, charred head.

Li Feng had used the distraction to slip behind him, driving the Xueqing blade through Xie Wuyi’s lower back.

Flames licked at their bodies like vipers. Li Feng’s hand cracked, and he trembled, trying to pull the blade out. Yet Xie Wuyi, whose body was essentially a collection of torture wounds, still had the strength. He lifted his saber and drove it deep into his own chest, the three-foot blade piercing through himself and into Li Feng’s left chest. They were like two dying fish skewered on a single spit.

Blood sprayed from Li Feng’s mouth. He slammed a palm into Xie Wuyi to separate them, but Xie Wuyi stood like an immovable mountain. Xie Wuyi used his final reserves of lightness skill to retreat, slamming Li Feng into a crumbling wall. The long blade nailed them together. At that moment, a massive broken beam crashed down from above!

In the blink of an eye, Li Feng pulled out the Xueqing blade, using his last ounce of strength to cleave the saber that pierced them both. He lunged out of the corridor just as the beam crushed Xie Wuyi, forcing him to his knees. The fire consumed him, blood gushing from his chest wound to spray onto the flames, making them burn even brighter.

A man’s heart is iron until death, his hot blood still fueling the hearth.

Though surrounded by fire, Xie Wuyi felt cold—a chill emanating from his marrow. Perhaps this is how it feels to die. They say the path to the Yellow Springs is the coldest road of all. Having dragged countless lackeys to their deaths in this inferno, he thought he could still fight a grand battle in the afterlife.

With another booming roar, the heat wave surged like a tidal wave. The entire Qianlong Pavilion was swallowed by the flames. The rolling heat and the smell of blood and scorched earth soared into the sky, shaking all of Guyang City. Countless citizens awoke, horrified to see the sky torn open.

Ye Fusheng saw it, too. He took one glance back, then withdrew his gaze, expressionless, and sprinted toward the hidden entrance of the Wanghaichao prohibition zone. He pushed his Xiafei qinggong to the limit, but his injured leg and numb limbs slowed him down until he collapsed onto one knee.

Xie Li peeked out from his embrace, his clothes smeared with snot and tears. As he looked up, his eyes caught a flash of crimson.

It was an alluring, scarlet red.

Bu Xueyao leaped down, his wide sleeves infused with internal energy like a steel blade, aimed squarely at Ye Fusheng’s exposed neck.

Suddenly, a long chain whistled through the air, wrapping around Bu Xueyao’s arm and flinging him over a dozen feet away.

A disheveled, wild-looking woman appeared, looking like a forest spirit. Her hands and face were ghastly white, and two black chains were coiled around her arms. It was Rong Cui, who should have been in the prohibition zone. She didn’t speak but moved instantly, wrapping the chains around Ye Fusheng and Xie Li and leaping into the air, gliding low toward a hidden cave.

Bu Xueyao pursued like a venomous snake, attacking just as they reached the cave.

Blood sprayed. He drove his hand, claws extended, into Rong Cui’s chest.

The chains danced; one bound Rong Cui and Bu Xueyao together, and the other hurled Ye Fusheng and Xie Li into the cave.

In that instant, moonlight shone through. Xie Li saw the woman’s thin, bony left hand had only four fingers, and her haggard, ghost-like face still held the trace of a beautiful expression.

He remembered a scrap of the past. Three years ago, when his mother lay dying in bed, she had touched his head with that very same hand, looking at him with those eyes until Xue Chanyi pulled him away.

Then, he had no mother.

Xie Li trembled violently, his voice shattering. “Mother…”

But he was already inside the cave. A thunderous crash echoed as a “Dragon-Blocking Stone” fell from above, sealing the entrance and cutting off his sight. He did not know that Rong Cui had heard that cat-like cry.

She looked back at the falling stone, channeling her strength into her bloody hand to shatter the cave’s mechanism, then collapsed on the ground alongside Bu Xueyao.

“Bitch!” Bu Xueyao, consumed by rage, slammed a palm onto Rong Cui’s head. She merely laughed, looking at him with sinister malice, and spat a mouthful of blood onto his face.

The blood burned his skin like fire, causing his flesh to fester rapidly. Bu Xueyao shrieked, striking her again to break free from the chains and retreating.

Under the moonlight, half of her beautiful face remained as it was, but the left side was a ruin of festering skin and twisted vessels.

The “Poison Chief” of the Western Regions had only ever had one apprentice. She was not a physician, but she was a master of poisons. This mouthful of blood, mixed with “Half-Face Makeup” poison, could not be cured even by changing one’s skin. She would be a half-faced Rakshasa for the rest of her days.

Rong Cui lay on the ground, blood streaming from her head. Her final gaze fell upon her own hands.

That year of the wedding, she had combed her hair, swearing to grow old together.

That year of her son’s birth, she had stitched his clothes, wishing to weave a beautiful future.

It was a pity that men often loved with prejudice, and women loved with too much heart. She had abandoned her seven-year-old child to hide in the prohibition zone, waiting in the darkness for her husband, only to be met with a reunion that would never come.