SS CH18

The entire Qianlong Pavilion fell into a silence so profound that one could hear a pin drop.

Until Xie Wuyi’s cold, mocking laughter shattered the stillness.

He leaped onto the plum blossom stakes, his hand slowly drawing the Duanshui saber. With this single action, the wind seemed to cease and the clouds to stall; even the twilight sky appeared to darken in its presence.

Feeling the sunlight lose its scorching heat, Ye Fusheng rubbed his throbbing temples. Managing to steady the roiling qi in his chest, he untied the black cloth from his eyes. Standing in the shade of the corridor, he could barely make out the silhouettes of the two figures on the water.

Li Feng rested his hand on the leather-sheathed blade at his waist. As he drew it, the blade proved to be translucent, like clear white glass. Reflecting the twilight and the water, it lacked the dark, murderous aura of its master, possessing instead a lingering, tender gentleness, as if a beautiful woman were casting a longing gaze.

“The blade is named ‘Xueqing’. I challenge Duanshui!”

As the words fell, the blade light rose. It was like a glance cast by a beauty, light and winding, falling upon you in the blink of an eye.

The blade was beautiful, the move fast, the man ruthless!

One moment he was thirty feet away; the next, he was before Xie Wuyi. The edge of the blade was a hair’s breadth from his throat, as if a beauty were about to press a light kiss upon it.

Yet, it was a hair’s breadth short.

The Duanshui saber flashed from beneath his sleeve, blocking the gap between his throat and the Xueqing blade at an extreme angle. With a twist of the wrist, he sliced toward the hand Li Feng used to hold his blade.

Li Feng let go decisively. Duanshui tracked down his arm toward his neck, but Li Feng gripped Xie Wuyi’s wrist with his own. His free left hand held the Xueqing blade, stabbing with full force toward Xie Wuyi’s waist.

“Hmph!”

Li Feng’s blade was relentless. Xueqing pierced the fabric, cutting into the flesh, tasting a drop of warm blood. But he could not smile. His right hand had been blasted away by internal energy, and Duanshui—unstoppable—was already横 (horizontal) across his throat, just half an inch from slicing through his windpipe.

He pulled back immediately, blood oozing from a microscopic cut. Another fraction of an inch, and he would have been dead.

A cold laugh followed. The sound of the blades slicing the air was so sharp it made one’s ears ache. Duanshui and Xueqing collided, entangled, and separated. Both men abandoned fancy footwork, showcasing raw speed and power—heavy as mountains, fast as thunder—each landing causing the plum blossom stakes to sink inches deeper into the mud.

The next instant, the blades collided again. There was no sound, but the pool erupted into a dozen water pillars, splashing and roaring!

Ye Fusheng narrowed his eyes and whispered, “Could it be…”

Mist filled the air, reflecting the sunset like a brilliant downpour. Li Feng burst through the water curtain; Xie Wuyi remained within.

Li Feng’s entire spirit was poured into a single strike. With an overwhelming, mountainous momentum, he aimed straight for Xie Wuyi’s chest! It was too fast, too strong, too fierce! He was certain no one could dodge it.

The blade-wind split the water. Xie Wuyi’s hand moved. The Duanshui saber drew a circle before him, its energy dragging the surrounding water curtain into a rotating vortex, locking onto the thunderous Xueqing blade.

It was the tender, affectionate hands of a beauty! It was the lingering, endless flow of a river! It was an inescapable struggle between life and death!

As the blades crossed, everyone lost their breath. Lu Mingyuan’s fan dropped, Bu Xueyao turned deathly pale, and Ye Fusheng let out a long sigh.

After the crossing, they brushed past one another.

A smile remained on Li Feng’s face; his hand, holding Xueqing, had successfully pierced Xie Wuyi’s chest. But he himself had already passed Xie Wuyi. He stood behind Xie Wuyi, while his hand, still gripping Xueqing, remained embedded in Xie Wuyi’s front.

What happened?

Xueqing was buried in Xie Wuyi’s chest, inches from his heart. Xie Wuyi’s knees buckled, but he stood firm, tapped his own pressure points to stop the bleeding, turned around, and slowly pulled the blade out—along with the severed hand still gripping it. He tossed it at Bu Xueyao’s feet.

The hand struck the ground, the five fingers twitching. Xie Wuyi’s slash had been too fast for anyone to react. Only now did the tearing, heart-shattering pain hit Li Feng. He swayed, blood painting the pool a pale red.

He turned pale, squeezing two words through his teeth: “Canglan?”

Xie Wuyi smiled, wiping the blood from his lip, and flipped his wrist to grip Duanshui once more. In this moment, he seemed thirteen years younger, returning to his days in the Western Regions, where all grievances were paid in blood—free, easy, and unburdened by the world.

“This hand is to teach you a lesson,” Xie Wuyi said, lifting his chin, his arrogance resurrected. “No matter how arrogant a watchdog is, don’t show your fangs before people. After all, not everyone who beats a dog will give the owner face.”

The Burial Soul Palace members turned pale; the Righteous Path side was on the verge of cheering.

“Turning the tide…” Ye Fusheng’s clouded mind cleared. Looking at Xie Wuyi’s back, he saw a blade honed to its sharpest edge. The world’s number one blade; he deserved the title.

Bu Xueyao’s expression was ugly, but his lips curled, and he quietly stepped aside.

Lu Mingyuan cleared his throat, checked the sky, and said, “Since that is the case, today’s Duel of the Blades is won by Duanshui Manor…”

Before he could finish, Xie Chongshan, who had sat in his wheelchair motionless, suddenly lunged at Bu Xueyao.

Simultaneously, Ye Fusheng—guided by his hearing—flicked the black cloth belt from his hand, imbued with internal energy. It shot out like an arrow, blocking two silver needles aimed at Xie Wuyi.

The coup happened in a heartbeat. Seeing his assassination foiled, Bu Xueyao wasn’t angry. He grabbed Xie Chongshan by the throat, kicked up the fallen Xueqing blade, and leaped to Li Feng’s side.

Outside, the street erupted in the sounds of combat!

“Master Xie, what a blade technique…” Li Feng turned, his face ghostly pale, his eyes gleaming like graveyard fire. Despite his missing arm, he was laughing—wild, exuberant, and frantic.

Both he and Bu Xueyao were excited. Why? The three sticks of incense had long since burned out, but a faint, sweet scent lingered.

The faces of Ye Fusheng, Xie Wuyi, and Lu Mingyuan changed simultaneously!

Clang! The righteous heroes on the corridor drew their blades, but as soon as they channeled their energy, they collapsed, weak as rotting mud!

Lu Mingyuan’s face turned paper-white. He steadied himself against a pillar and saw several familiar faces emerge from the Burial Soul Palace’s side—the “innkeepers and waiters” from their lodging.

“So that’s how it is!”

“All the tea and food you’ve consumed these days were carefully arranged by us,” Bu Xueyao laughed. “Having the noble ‘Heavenly Spider’ serve you tea without pay… we had to collect interest. The tea had ‘Lovesick Tears,’ the incense had ‘Heart-Wounding Powder.’ Neither is toxic, but together, they are the finest anesthesia. The stronger the martial artist, the harder they struggle, the faster they fall.”

Xie Wuyi said coldly, “What do you want?”

“Master Xie’s blade is unmatched,” Bu Xueyao held the Xueqing blade to Xie Chongshan’s neck. “Our Palace Master appreciates heroes, but heroes like you have hard tempers and long memories. If we let you walk away today, we would be ghosts under your blade by tomorrow.”

“If you want my life, why not take it yourselves?”

“Without ‘Lovesick Tears,’ we wouldn’t dare bet our lives against someone of your caliber.” Bu Xueyao glanced at the fallen crowd. “We spent such effort for one thing: ‘Profit.’ As long as you pay the price, you can buy your lives…”

The crowd cursed them as monsters. One man stood up, shouting, “Demons! I would rather die than beg for mercy!”

Before he finished, a Burial Soul Palace subordinate thrust a sword into his mouth, ripping out his tongue!

“I am talking to Master Xie; don’t spoil the atmosphere.” Bu Xueyao looked at Xie Wuyi, his eyes shimmering. “Where were we? Ah, yes. They can buy their lives, but you, Master Xie, injured my Li Feng and refuse to bow to our Palace… then, if you don’t want to see Duanshui Manor run red with blood and your own father die before your eyes, please commit suicide, shall you?”

Xie Wuyi sneered. He raised his blade toward Bu Xueyao, not even glancing at Xie Chongshan. “Demons. In my life, I have hated nothing more than being threatened.”

He leaped, swinging his blade to cut Bu Xueyao down!

Knowing how ruthless Xie Wuyi’s blade was, Bu Xueyao didn’t dare block. He retreated, lifting Xueqing to sweep Duanshui away.

In that instant, Xie Chongshan grabbed Bu Xueyao’s back. He let the Xueqing blade slice through his own throat. Blood sprayed over half of Bu Xueyao’s face. He was held tight!

Duanshui was inches away!

Li Feng grabbed Bu Xueyao’s waist, kicked Xie Chongshan toward the oncoming blade, and they flew back onto the roof of the corridor.

Xie Wuyi’s pupils shrank. He withdrew his blade to catch Xie Chongshan, but he was already dead. The man who had given him life but cursed him to a life of misery died in his arms.

Xie Wuyi stared at him, his body beginning to go numb. He couldn’t hold the corpse and let it slip into the water. The poison surged in his marrow like a hundred ants gnawing at his bones.

The hero was at his end.

Yet he laughed, a mocking arc on his lips, looking at Li Feng and Bu Xueyao on the roof as if they were already dead.

“A fine plot. A fine calculation. But, what a pity…”

“What is a pity?” Li Feng frowned.

“Do you know why I set the duel at Duanshui Manor, inviting the wolves into my house?” Xie Wuyi stood straight. His smile grew warm, making the thirty-year-old look like a child about to open a long-awaited gift.

He said softly, “Because, from the very beginning… I never intended for any of you to leave here alive today!”

Li Feng and Bu Xueyao’s expressions turned to horror!

In the north corner, Xue Chanyi pushed Xie Li into Ye Fusheng’s arms and slapped an unassuming animal-head relief on the wall. The wall collapsed inward with the sound of grinding gears!

BOOM!

With several earth-shaking roars, the entire Duanshui Manor was swallowed by an inferno!

“Master, we are thirty miles from the Linchuan Branch.”

On a desolate ancient road stood a makeshift tea stall. Chu Xiwei, who had left Duanshui Manor days ago, was still fifty miles outside Guyang City. Sun Minfeng removed the cloth covering his eyes. Chu Xiwei blinked, adjusting to the light, and asked, “Today is the day of the Duel of Blades, right? Any news from ‘Thousand Mechanisms’?”

“Soon… wait, speak of the devil!”

A shadow drifted toward them, silent as a ghost. Before he even landed, Chu Xiwei smelled the thick scent of blood and frowned. “You’re injured?”

The man knelt on one knee. His back was a mass of shredded flesh, but he seemed unaware of the pain. “Reporting to the Master: as you predicted, the Burial Soul Palace acted!”

Chu Xiwei had planned to watch the fire from the other bank, fishing in troubled waters. “A dog that doesn’t bite has no meat,” he scoffed. “Xie Wuyi is no pushover, and Duanshui Manor is buried with… other things. A fascinating play, though trouble-prone.”

The subordinate hesitated. “There is more.”

“What?”

“I spotted one person whose light-agility was superior to the ‘Flying Rakshasa,’ and his footwork… it resembled yours. How should I handle him?”

Chu Xiwei trembled. The footwork he used was the “Cloud-Flying Steps” from the Jinghong Art, simplified by his master. It was incredibly difficult to learn.

“That person… is his name Ye Fusheng?”

“Yes, Master. Bu Xueyao sent a secret letter; I killed the messenger and took it. I dared not read it without your permission.”

Chu Xiwei’s hands shook as he took the blood-stained letter. He tore it open.

A moment later, everyone felt a blur. The letter was shattered into snow by internal energy. Chu Xiwei turned into a black wind, using 100% of his power to rush toward Guyang City.

But as he saw the city walls, he heard an earth-shaking roar, and the ground trembled.

He could not see the Manor, but he saw the sky being illuminated.

The fire was like blood, reflecting in Chu Xiwei’s eyes.