SS CH118

Those cold fingers were already pressing forcefully into his eyelids. Xuan Su could feel the slight pain radiating from his eyes, but before those two fingers could gouge out his eyeballs, a spray of warm blood splashed across his face.

The stench of blood washed over him, the liquid seemingly seeping through his pores straight into his flesh and marrow, as if countless tiny crimson insects were crawling over his body, madly gnawing at him. Xuan Su’s face paled. A shudder traveled from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head; his scalp tingled, and his limbs trembled violently.

Staggering back two steps, Xuan Su had just snatched half his life back from the gates of hell. His eyes still stung slightly. Shaking his head, his Wuwei sword nearly thrust forward out of instinct, but Zhao Qing had already fallen.

Two thuds sounded in quick succession, one heavy and one light. Zhao Qing’s body collapsed onto the ground, while his head rolled all the way to Xuan Su’s feet, dragging a crooked, bloody trail that looked horrifyingly gruesome no matter how one looked at it.

Ye Fusheng had arrived at some unknown time. In the nick of time, he had found an opening and struck. The Jinghong blade sliced into the battle silently, cutting through skin and flesh, severing bone, and decapitating the target, leaving no chance for survival. In the blink of an eye, blood splattered three feet across the sharp blade.

The speed of the strike, the ferocity of the blade, and the precision of the timing—all three were indispensable. It was a sight rarely seen in Xuan Su’s entire life.

Xuan Su stared blankly down at Zhao Qing’s unresigned eyes, then looked up at Ye Fusheng. The man’s face was completely pale, his lips turning blue. After executing that strike, he reached out to grip the railing for support, nearly falling to his knees as his legs gave out.

Only the hand gripping the saber remained as steady as a rock, motionless.

He looked like an umbrella stripped of its bamboo ribs, leaving only a limp layer of oiled paper stubbornly trying to block the wind and rain.

Ye Fusheng finally managed to catch his breath. Shaking his head, he noticed Xuan Su looking at him and forced a smile at the corner of his lips. “Were you scared?”

Xuan Su maintained a wooden expression. “Yes, this poor Daoist was terrified.”

Ye Fusheng choked, laughing so hard he lost his breath. Forcing himself not to look at the corpse and blood on the floor, Xuan Su quickly walked over to support him and asked, “Why are you here?”

“With the temple making such a huge commotion, if I didn’t wake up, I’d probably be asleep forever,” Ye Fusheng wiped the blade with his sleeve and sheathed the saber. “When I woke up, I only saw Miss Xue and A-Li about to leave. Learning of your whereabouts from them, I followed you here. Luckily, I made it just in time to save your pair of eyes.”

The poison in his body was acting up, merely forcefully suppressed by his internal energy. Rushing all the way here had been arduous. Moreover, the situation in the stupa forest was unclear; Ye Fusheng had actually been prepared to lose the trail. Unexpectedly, he first saw the sudden burst of firelight, then heard the muffled thuds echoing one after another, which finally led him to the right place.

Saying this, Ye Fusheng looked down at the person he had just decapitated. With only a hurried glance earlier, he had merely known this person’s martial arts were formidable and handled with ease. If the man hadn’t been delirious and relentlessly attacking Xuan Su, Ye Fusheng might not have been able to get close. Because of this, he hadn’t dared to hold back.

Frowning, his gaze swept back and forth between the head and the corpse, already forming a guess: “Zhao Qing?”

Xuan Su affirmed with a “Yes”: “When I arrived, I caught someone trying to use the chaos to rescue Zhao Qing. However, because his mind was mad and he didn’t recognize anyone, the opportunity was delayed, allowing me to step in and block them.”

Ye Fusheng narrowed his eyes. “Then why did you freeze just now?”

He had arrived at exactly the right moment to see Zhao Qing clamp down on Xuan Su’s sword. The latter had the opportunity to let go and retreat, yet he froze in place. Left with no other choice, Ye Fusheng had to deliver the killing blow.

Hearing this, the expression on Xuan Su’s face shifted. He looked as if he wanted to speak but stopped himself. Before he could explain, however, the sound of a bell suddenly rang out from below, echoing far into the night sky.

Outside the first floor of every stupa hung a large bronze bell used as a warning signal. When a martial artist gathered their strength to strike it, the sound could carry three to five miles in an instant. Any martial monk in the temple who hadn’t slept like the dead would hear the sound coming from this direction.

There was actually still someone inside this pagoda.

Xuan Su had come in a hurry, and Ye Fusheng had pursued even faster. Both had scaled the outside of the pagoda, not wasting time climbing the stairs inside. They had assumed that with outsiders breaking in to rescue the prisoner, there would likely be no survivors left in the pagoda. Unexpectedly, someone was still alive and had rung the great bell.

Estimating that it wouldn’t be long before people surrounded the pagoda, Xuan Su frowned. “This place breeds trouble. No matter who those two were, they were dressed as monks of the temple. Now that Zhao Qing is also dead, it’s best we leave here first.”

This was a sound idea, but the main doors below were likely already locked. Even with exceptional qinggong, leaping down from a seven-story pagoda was highly risky, especially since Ye Fusheng was battling poison and Xuan Su’s energy was depleted.

After a moment’s thought, Ye Fusheng asked, “Tell me everything you saw and heard since coming here.”

Xuan Su quickly recounted everything that had just happened. Ye Fusheng’s deeply furrowed brows slowly relaxed as he said, “We cannot leave.”

“Why?”

Ye Fusheng didn’t rush to answer. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a fire starter and turned into the cell where Zhao Qing had been imprisoned.

Because it was built inside a high pagoda, the cell was laid out like a Zen meditation room, but with added iron bars and chains. In the center stood a large iron cage, tall as a man; the locks were open, and the cage was completely empty.

Three corpses lay on the floor. Two were white-bearded old monks, both emaciated, with stab wounds in their backs that had pierced straight through their hearts. The third was a young monk lying on the floor, his face covered in blood, a bloody gash across his head with brain matter leaking from the split—likely struck by Zhao Qing’s iron chain.

Ye Fusheng crouched down and carefully inspected the bodies of the two old monks, muttering to himself, “Just as I thought.”

Xuan Su asked, “What did you find?”

Pressing his temples, Ye Fusheng replied, “That fake monk earlier mentioned ‘the four of us brothers.’ Think carefully.”

From their words, it could be deduced that one died inside the cell, and two died at the base of the pagoda. So where was the fourth?

“The stupa is heavily guarded. Looking at the calluses on their hands, these two old monks were highly skilled in martial arts. Even if Zhao Qing broke free, he wouldn’t necessarily be a match for them. Unless those three attackers were faster with a blade than me, they absolutely couldn’t achieve a one-strike kill.” Ye Fusheng stated, “Both old monks were poisoned.”

As he spoke, he handed the fire starter to Xuan Su and walked over to the incense altar. The incense and candles had all burned out. Ye Fusheng rubbed the incense ash between his fingers, his gaze cold and dark: “It’s in here.”

Since the stupa held a major criminal, the two old monks bearing this heavy responsibility naturally wouldn’t dare relax in the slightest, and the other monks in the pagoda would also be extremely vigilant. Aside from strictly controlling personnel entry and exit, even the water and food would be meticulously inspected. How easy could it be to slip poison into their meals?

Unless a monk inside the pagoda mixed the poison into the incense, using the opportunity of offering incense and cleaning to swap the candles. Lighting the poisoned items allowed the toxin to release silently as it vaporized, and by the time it was discovered, it would be too late.

The two old monks had excelled in martial arts their entire lives, yet they ultimately fell into a deadly trap due to ghostly schemes, dying from a premeditated sneak attack.

Ye Fusheng narrowed his eyes. “To rescue Zhao Qing, they naturally couldn’t let the news leak. The person who just rang the bell is likely the last survivor in this pagoda, but if it were you, would you leave any survivors?”

A thief crying “catch the thief”—it was nothing more than this.

Xuan Su connected this to the person who passed the message, a chill running through his heart: “They deliberately lured me here to be a scapegoat!”

Ye Fusheng rubbed his chin, his brow furrowing again as he remained silent.

Xuan Su didn’t disturb him. In truth, his own mind was a tangled mess. He looked at the corpses before him, then thought of Zhao Qing. Unfortunately, he had so many questions, yet no one left alive to answer them.

The two simply sat on the floor until the sound of approaching footsteps and clamor grew near. The main doors were pushed open with a loud crash, and about twenty people filed in, cramming the cell completely full. Scanning the area, Xuan Su saw the corridor outside was also packed with people from various sects, guarding every door and window as if terrified the two might sprout wings and fly away.

Half of those entering the cell were sect members, the other half martial monks. Leading them were Hengming and Hengyuan. Seeing the corpses on the floor, Hengming cried out “Martial Granduncles!” in grief and indignation, glaring at Ye Fusheng and Xuan Su with eyes that were practically bloodshot.

Hengyuan also wore an expression of deep sorrow, fingering his prayer beads and murmuring “Amitabha.” Outside, someone discovered Zhao Qing’s body and shouted, “Zhao Qing is dead? Who did this?!”

The clamor instantly grew louder. Xuan Su found it somewhat grating; he felt that rather than the joy of a demonic leader being executed, these people displayed an unspeakable, jealous resentment and unwillingness.

Hengyuan looked at them and said, “Young Palace Master Xuan Su, Benefactor Ye, the two of you trespassed into the stupa late at night, and killed Zhao Qing along with members of my temple. Shouldn’t you give us an explanation?”

Ye Fusheng kept his eyes closed. Xuan Su answered, “We trespassed into the stupa for a reason, and killing Zhao Qing was a last resort. As for these Masters, it was not our doing. Without asking for the cause, you first assign guilt; doesn’t Senior Brother Hengyuan find this rather hasty?”

Hengming roared in anger, “The shidis below the pagoda bear the marks of the Taishang Palace’s martial arts. Do you dare say it wasn’t you who struck the lethal blows?! The two Martial Granduncles suffered fatal knife wounds. Do you claim it wasn’t your blades?!”

Hearing Hengming hurling accusations and assigning guilt without careful thought, Xuan Su frowned deeply. Seeing Hengyuan’s expression of sorrow, as if he were choking on unspeakable grief, Xuan Su knew this man intended to use the impulsive Hengming to pin everything that happened tonight on him and Ye Fusheng, leaving them universally condemned and unable to defend themselves.

He stole a glance at Ye Fusheng. The man’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes trembling slightly, cold sweat dotting his forehead again. The suppressed discomfort was likely surging back up.

Pushed to the absolute edge of anxiety, Xuan Su conversely became completely calm.

On Wangchen Peak, he never had to exert effort to face anything; upon descending the mountain, he had Ye Fusheng’s guidance and instruction. This was the very first time Xuan Su faced such an aggressively pressing and highly critical situation.

Even with a sword in hand, even with literary and martial strategies, one could still find themselves bound and helpless.

But he couldn’t live under someone else’s shade for his entire life, let alone sit back and wait for death.

Xuan Su slowly clenched his fists. Meeting Hengming’s gaze, he said coldly, “Of the two below, one was killed by this poor Daoist, and the other was thrown off the high building by Zhao Qing. Having done the deed, I dare to admit it. But I ask that, along with this corpse here, you first verify the identities of these three monks. As for these two Masters…”

Pausing, his voice grew even colder: “This poor Daoist is not yet thirty years old and is an outsider. If I could approach behind the two Masters and execute a sneak attack, does that mean this poor Daoist is extraordinarily gifted, or does Wuxiang Temple’s martial arts inherently possess flaws? The two Masters bore the heavy responsibility of guarding this place; why would they expose their backs to this poor Daoist without any guard? You can all carefully examine the blade wounds on their bodies—were they truly caused by the blades we carry, or did they come from Wuxiang Temple’s own monk’s knives?”

This barrage of questions left Hengming stunned on the spot, wanting to retort but not knowing where to begin. Hengyuan finally couldn’t maintain his silence and asked, “Even if the matter of the murders needs clarification, what of Zhao Qing’s death? And for what reason did you two trespass into the stupa?”

The other party bit firmly down on the accusation that their infiltration of the stupa harbored ulterior motives. Whether it was colluding with the demonic path to rescue Zhao Qing, or intending to take a drastic shortcut by killing Zhao Qing to gain immense fame before the assembly, both were actions that invited hatred.

Xuan Su looked at Hengyuan. The young monk remained gentle as always, but his eyes were like a leech—biting down and refusing to let go the moment it smelled blood.

His gaze finally turned completely frigid.

“Master Hengyuan, this poor Daoist honors you with the title ‘Senior Brother’ out of respect for your years and for Wuxiang Temple, not out of respect for you.” Xuan Su slowly stood up, stepping in front of Ye Fusheng. The Wuwei sword was sheathed back into a flute, spinning between his fingers as he stood with his hands behind his back.

His gaze swept over Hengyuan, Hengming, and the crowd of people behind them with varying expressions. “This poor Daoist is the sixth generation Sect Leader of the Taishang Palace. Whether you seek to condemn or assign blame, I ask that the Sect Leaders of all factions step forward to discuss this, present true evidence, and dissect the situation with reason and justice. This poor Daoist sits upright and acts properly, with nothing I cannot say. I will not dodge or hide; I shall explain everything clearly right here and now!”

The moment these words fell, the entire crowd erupted in an uproar. How many people dared to be angry but didn’t dare to speak out? Hengyuan looked straight at Xuan Su, only feeling that the Daoist who was normally as gentle as a spring breeze had suddenly been dyed with the biting chill of an early spring freeze—not sharp, but penetrating to the bone.

Ye Fusheng slowly opened his eyes.

Looking at Xuan Su’s back, he couldn’t help but curl his lips. Pressing a hand against the floor, he stood up, patted Xuan Su’s shoulder, and stood beside him.

Compared to Xuan Su, Ye Fusheng’s aura was not domineering. He looked like an utterly black shadow standing beneath candlelight, his speech somewhat slow and mild, as if lacking strength.

Yet his single sentence was like a hockey stick striking a venomous snake right at its weak point, rendering it completely immobile—

“The Sutra Depository caught fire, and it’s quite a distance from here. You all arrived quite promptly. I just wonder, has the fire been extinguished? And where are Abbot Sejian, Temple Supervisor Seruo, and Daoist Duanheng?” Pausing, Ye Fusheng looked at the monks. “By the way, I wonder which Master was the one who rang the bell to warn everyone just now? Please step forward to serve as a witness and clarify the facts.”