SS CH30

Gu Xiao sat down to write a letter, requested a messenger pigeon from the post station to send it to Feiyun Peak, and then hauled Chu Yao to a quiet, secluded corner. He didn’t speak; he just stared at the boy intently.

Beating children wasn’t his style, but he had seen plenty of adults intimidating them. When he was little, what he feared most wasn’t the feather duster in his master’s hand, but the look his shiniang would give him when she fell silent.

It was a gaze as heavy as a mountain, as deep as the sea.

Chu Yao was stared at until his calves began to tremble, terrified that he had somehow offended this person who seemed mentally unstable. But even though he was scared pale, he managed to hold back his tears and persisted in meeting Gu Xiao’s gaze.

Gu Xiao was somewhat surprised, thinking to himself that this little meatball had quite a bit of grit and courage. He would either be a stubborn ox or a single-minded fool when he grew up.

Thinking this, he softened his expression. “I’ll do what I promised you, but this matter involves too much. To be honest, I’m a little scared.”

Gu Xiao was sixteen this year and had only been wandering the Jianghu for half a year. Though he was a newborn calf that didn’t fear the tiger, that didn’t mean he enjoyed inviting massive trouble.

If his guess was correct, this wasn’t just some ordinary Jianghu grudge; it was a matter of life and death for the nation. Gu Xiao knew he wasn’t exactly a titan of a man, and his shoulders weren’t built to carry such a heavy burden.

Chu Yao blinked. “Are you afraid… of dying?”

In his current limited understanding, death was likely the most terrifying thing there was.

Gu Xiao shook his head. “I’m more afraid of causing others to die.”

“Isn’t… isn’t it all the same if you’re afraid of dying?”

“One is a clean end; the other is a life of haunting guilt.” Gu Xiao squatted down. “The thing people fear most in this life is a guilty conscience. So, do you want to be that kind of person?”

Chu Yao couldn’t yet grasp the depth of his words, but he instinctively and ignorantly shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Good boy.” This time, Gu Xiao didn’t foolishly reach out to pat his head, but maintained the eye-level posture. “I will go save your brother, but I can’t take you with me. I’ll find a safe place to hide you, and then someone will come to take you home. You just need to wait.”

Upon hearing this, Chu Yao grabbed his hand and shook his head like a rattle. “I want to go with you! I’m scared!”

“If I take you, I won’t be able to do anything.” Gu Xiao smiled. “Have you thought about it?”

Chu Yao pouted, hesitatingly let go of his hand, and mumbled, “You must bring my brother back. Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t worry, I never lie to kids.”

“I’m eight!”

“Are your hairs fully grown yet?”

“…”

“That’s settled.” Gu Xiao stood up and pulled Chu Yao’s hand. “I’m going to hide you now. Don’t make a scene.”

The letter he had just sent was to Gu Qifang; after all, there was no one else he could trust so unconditionally outside of his master and shiniang. In the letter, he wrote the location of an inn—an inconspicuous, ordinary place in Jinshui Town. He had seen the proprietor that morning and knew him to be an honest man. He booked two rooms, paid in full, and instructed Chu Yao not to leave, to eat every meal in the room, and drew a tiny “Flying Swan” outside the other room as a mark. Only then did he feel secure enough to leave.

Chu Yao watched him busy himself, feeling anxious and uneasy. Knowing he couldn’t help, he sat there nervously until he finally spoke up: “Who are you sending to pick me up?”

“My master. A tall, thin woman with a long black sword at her waist and a face that looks like it’s begging for a punch. You’ll know her the moment you see her.”

Chu Yao felt a little relieved. He figured even if this jerk didn’t speak like a normal human, his martial arts were at least passable, so his master should be even more reliable. He didn’t expect Gu Xiao to add one last sentence: “She’s the female bandit I told you about last night. Don’t worry, she’s turned over a new leaf.”

“…!”

Gu Xiao scampered off before the child could grab his leg, only wiping the sweat from his brow once he had run quite a distance.

He asked for directions at the post station. The northern front line was at Jinghan Pass, a long way off. In these short two days, even if those people had wings, they certainly hadn’t reached it yet. There was still a chance to intercept them halfway. Gu Xiao had an experienced merchant draw him a rough map. He frowned and thought for a while before deciding to take a detour.

The water route was stealthy. Assuming they didn’t want to alert the garrisons, they would inevitably be slow or forced to zigzag. Gu Xiao bought plenty of water and dry rations, purchased a good horse, and, calculating the journey and his endurance, he spurred his mount into a mad gallop. He ran for two full days, nearly losing his own sense of direction, until he finally spotted a reed marsh.

Not far ahead was the “Yanhui River.” A few miles of travel by boat would lead to land routes, already close to the north. Logically, a checkpoint should have been set up here, but the Yanhui River was treacherous with swift, hidden currents; further downstream, there were waterfalls, and both banks were jagged with strange rocks and steep mountain paths. It was a natural barrier. Unless one was exceptionally skilled and daring, no one would gamble their life against the heavens here.

It was pitch black, thick clouds obscured the moon, and only a few scattered stars remained—the perfect time for fish to swim in troubled waters. Gu Xiao let the horse go, broke off a reed to use as a balance, and began his crossing. He had only been learning the blade for six years, but he had practiced qinggong for twelve. While he wasn’t quite at the level of Gu Qifang’s “leaving no ripples on the water,” his “crossing the river on a reed” was beginning to show results.

He took advantage of the darkness to scout the riverbank but found nothing unusual. Clearly, no ships or carriages had passed this way in the last two days. He relaxed slightly and hid quietly in the reed marsh.

He lay there for nearly two hours, but there was still no sign of movement on the river. Gu Xiao couldn’t help but panic.

He had met Chu Yao too late, and the clues he held were sparse—most were based on gut instinct. He had traveled day and night, full of fear that he wouldn’t catch up, but he had forgotten that his hypothesis might be wrong.

Gu Xiao hesitated: if he waited another hour and saw nothing, he would risk reporting to the local government. He hadn’t done so before because the Jianghu and the imperial court were worlds apart, and he didn’t know who in the officialdom could be trusted. That was why he had decided to gamble it all on himself. If he had guessed wrong this time, he would have no choice but to take a desperate risk.

Fortunately, the heavens still favored the blind cat.

Just as he was losing his patience, he finally saw the shadows of a few ships on the river surface, illuminated by the faint starlight. They had no flags, no torches; he couldn’t imagine what kind of skill the helmsmen possessed to navigate these dark, flowing waters so effortlessly.

Gu Xiao thought for a moment and fished a leaf-shaped glass mirror from his pocket.

This thing was a toy Gu Qifang had given him when he was young. It was said a friend had brought it from the Western Regions. It wasn’t just exquisitely carved; it could make distant things look near, and even at night, it could see as clearly as day. It had been a great help in his youth when he went up to tear off roof tiles or fish for birds. Even as an adult, he couldn’t bear to throw it away.

Gu Xiao closed his left eye and pressed the glass mirror to his right. The gloomy night seemed as if a heavy fog had been peeled away, and everything hidden within was revealed in perfect detail—three small to medium-sized ships, looking ordinary on the outside. There were two men in black at the bow and stern of each, and the middle cabins were covered in tarpaulin, hiding any glimpse of what was inside.

They’re here! Gu Xiao’s heart sank. However, the distance was too great; he couldn’t hear any movement on the ships, only vaguely seeing the men in black occasionally communicating. After a moment’s thought, he clamped a reed pipe in his mouth and slipped into the water without a sound.

He was a southerner, after all; his swimming was naturally superb. Cautious in his actions, he skirted the reed marsh to approach, then dove down in one breath, clinging tightly to the bottom of the last ship. The ripples he stirred up were less noticeable than a jumping fish.

He chose this ship for a reason: the first two ships sat at roughly the same depth in the water, so their cargo was likely similar. This last ship, however, sat lower in the water—if it wasn’t carrying more cargo, it had to be carrying more people.

He had intended to get close enough to eavesdrop, but he hadn’t expected that while his position was hidden, it was useless for listening. He held his breath for a long time, but couldn’t hear a single thing. Gu Xiao, blowing bubbles as carefully as a fish, pulled out his dagger, deciding to take a desperate gamble. He would mimic the ship-boring water ghosts of the sea merchants and strike first.

He acted as he thought. Gu Xiao poured his internal energy into his hand and stabbed fiercely at the ship’s hull. However, he had underestimated the water’s resistance. While his strike was swift, much of the force was dissipated by the water. The blade embedded itself into the hull, but failed to punch a hole through as he had hoped; instead, it shook the entire ship!

“Who?!”

Not good, Gu Xiao thought. He burst out of the water, drawing his long sword from his waist in one motion, and used the momentum to slash. He cleanly snapped the oar one of the men had swung down at his head and stepped heavily onto the man’s skull. With a “crack,” the man’s neck collapsed inward, and he was dead instantly.

With the chaos erupted, the remaining two ships immediately turned around. People on board were already drawing bows and arrows. Gu Xiao spun around, sweeping his blade to deflect the arrows. Simultaneously, he kicked open the cabin curtain, but caught off guard, a man rushed out and landed seven strikes in a row with a staff. Gu Xiao managed to avoid the fatal blows, but his shoulder took a hit, and his entire left arm went numb.

To his astonishment, the brief clash was enough for him to see what was in the boat—nothing but broken sacks stuffed with who-knows-what. There was no scent of gunpowder, let alone any kidnapped noble young masters.

His heart skipped a beat. In the middle of the fight, Gu Xiao looked back and saw that on a sandbank hidden by the reeds, there was still a small boat. The people on it had noticed the commotion up front and were already abandoning the boat to sprint toward the rugged mountain paths. In a fleeting glimpse, he saw a man and a woman holding a young boy hostage.