SS CH43

Ye Fusheng felt that Heaven was truly lacking a conscience.

The place Mu Yan’an had spoken of was Crow Valley, located twenty li east of the town. The mountains were high, the forests dense, and human footprints were rare. Countless crows had built their nests in these woods, leaving the ground covered in bird droppings and stray feathers. As they walked, they had to stay on guard against disasters dropping from the sky. The pungent, foul stench was incredibly piercing, causing Chu Xiwei to sneeze uncontrollably the moment he stepped inside.

With his sharp sense of smell, he was utterly intolerant of such odors. Yet, having no other choice under the circumstances, he could only cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve, his face a picture of deep, bitter resentment.

Watching Chu Xiwei walk as though he were treading on knife points, Ye Fusheng wanted to laugh. But considering the other man’s thin skin, he managed to hold it in. Seeing Chu Xiwei walking faster and faster, he hurried forward to pull him back, lowering his voice: “Pay some attention to your surroundings. Charging ahead like that—what if you step into a trap?”

Suppressing his fury, Chu Xiwei spat out: “When I find that dead girl and bring her back, I’ll make sure she kneels and cries while I beat her!”

Ye Fusheng: “…Don’t be like that. Even if she’s just a young girl, you should learn to show some tenderness to the fairer sex.”

Chu Xiwei gave a cold mock laugh. Suddenly, his hand shot out like lightning, clawing toward the left. At the same strict instant, Ye Fusheng kicked off the ground, his body hurtling between the gaps of the trees like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, vanishing from sight within a few bounds.

Chu Xiwei’s sudden strike caught the person tailing them in the dark completely off guard. Shocked that his supposedly superb stealth techniques had been see through at a single glance, the stalker immediately lunged out from behind a tree, swinging his blade downward. Unexpectedly, when bare palm clashed with steel, the blade snapped cleanly into two halves!

Before he could process his astonishment, a pale hand had already clamped tightly around his throat. Exerting force in his arm, Chu Xiwei lifted a man who was a full size larger than himself completely off the ground. The man choked, unable to breathe, his feet kicking frantically in the air, yet the hand gripping his throat remained as unyielding as iron.

Soon, Ye Fusheng’s figure reappeared behind Chu Xiwei. He held an extra blade in his hand; the metal was wiped clean, yet a faint scent of blood still lingered. Noticing Chu Xiwei’s sidelong glance, he shook his hand out: “I chased that fellow for a bit and saw him run to a cliff face, preparing to open a secret passage to report inside. So, I seized his blade and slaughtered him.”

“Very good.” The corners of Chu Xiwei’s lips curled coldly as his gaze fell upon the face of the man in his grasp, his tone indifferent. “Then there is no need to keep you alive either.”

Before his voice could fade, a sharp snap echoed, and the man’s head lolled to the side, completely devoid of breath.

Chu Xiwei tossed the corpse to the ground. Looking at the dead body with its wide, bulging eyes, Ye Fusheng remarked: “Ah Yao, I think you’ve been a bit off lately.”

Chu Xiwei knit his brows: “Hm?”

“When I first met you at Duanshui Villa, you weren’t as irritable and impulsive as you are now.” Ye Fusheng recalled carefully. Back then, though Chu Xiwei’s stance was ambiguous, he had been mostly calm and collected. Yet, ever since he himself had woken up, he noticed the man’s emotions fluctuated wildly. Particularly when engaging in martial arts, he was cold, ruthless, and brutal—entirely unlike his usual self.

Chu Xiwei sneered: “We haven’t seen each other in ten years. Do you really think you know me that well?”

“Ah Yao, don’t be like this.” It was rare for Ye Fusheng to frown so deeply. He reached out to check Chu Xiwei’s pulse, only for his hand to be violently grabbed in return.

This subconscious counter-grip from Chu Xiwei carried immense force. Enduring the sharp pain radiating from his wrist bones, Ye Fusheng seized the brief moment the other man relaxed his grip to twist his own hand back, clamping down on Chu Xiwei’s wrist instead. However, the man was now as slippery as a loach; Ye Fusheng managed to read his pulse for less than a single breath before Chu Xiwei wrenched his hand away and retreated.

He said coldly: “Who do you think you are right now? By what right do you meddle in my business?”

The moment these words left his mouth, both of them froze.

Ye Fusheng felt a sharp prick of pain in his heart, but he didn’t let the hurt show on his face. He merely twitched the corners of his mouth, preparing to deflect with his usual banter. Yet Chu Xiwei’s expression wasn’t good either; a faint trace of regret flickered within him, but not knowing what to say, he tapped his toes against the ground before Ye Fusheng could speak, leaping swiftly toward the direction Ye Fusheng had just returned from.

“What a stubborn mule,” Ye Fusheng shook his head, deciding to let it drop for now. He would smooth the boy’s feathers down once this mess was over, so he executed his movement techniques and followed.

In the pitch-black darkness, there was no source of light except for the sporadic patches of moonlight filtering through the leaves. Chu Xiwei had stormed off without a single backward glance. Because Ye Fusheng’s internal cultivation had not yet recovered, keeping up with him was a strain, and in the blink of an eye, he lost the man’s trail.

“Such a grown man, and he vanishes the second you let him go?” Reaching the cliff face, Ye Fusheng found the area completely deserted. The secret passage was closed. Unable to tell whether Chu Xiwei had gone inside ahead of him or wandered off elsewhere, he pressed a hand to his forehead in exasperation.

After a moment of hesitation, Ye Fusheng reached out to press a slightly protruding stone brick on the cliff wall. Before his fingers could touch it, a massive explosion erupted beneath his feet. Accompanied by a violent shaking of the earth and mountains, he nearly fell flat on his backside.

Did King Yanluo’s ancestral home just blow up?!

Ye Fusheng managed to steady himself with great difficulty, only to see the hidden door in front of him slide open automatically. Four masked men in black surged out from within. Spotting him—an uninvited guest blocking the entrance—their expressions shifted instantly. One shouted: “Who goes there!”

Another commanded: “Kill!”

“Grandisons, call me Granddaddy!” Ye Fusheng thought to himself that arriving early couldn’t beat arriving at just the right moment. Even as he spoke, his blade was already in hand. Moving with extreme speed, he inserted himself right into the center of the four men in an instant.

The four were caught entirely off guard. Ye Fusheng spun and swept his blade; the two in the back retreated immediately, but the two in front were a step too slow. The blade edge tore across their chests like a ferocious gale, spraying a high arc of blood. Before they could even cry out in pain, they collapsed to the ground, their fates unknown.

Just as Ye Fusheng’s blade strike cleared, an iron staff and a longsword lunged at him simultaneously from left and right. His left hand patted down on the staff like scattered petals brushing a willow branch, smoothly redirecting its momentum toward the incoming sword. As the two weapons clashed, the swordsman stumbled back a step. Seizing this opening, Ye Fusheng closed the distance, his blade flashing as he cleanly slit the man’s throat.

The remaining black-clothed man was horrified. His iron staff whistled through the air, sweeping straight for Ye Fusheng’s skull. At the critical juncture between hairbreadth and life, Ye Fusheng leaned back sharply. The fierce wind scraped past his face, stinging his skin.

This man had a solid foundation in internal cultivation and a stable lower stance; he was clearly the leader of the four. Testing the meager amount of internal energy he had recovered, Ye Fusheng’s eyes turned icy. As the iron staff swept down toward his legs, he abruptly raised his foot and stomped hard right onto the staff, using the momentum to propel himself upward!

The man only felt his vision blur as Ye Fusheng materialized directly above him. Seeing the blade coming down in a vertical chop, he instinctively raised his staff to block. To his horror, Ye Fusheng twisted his blade mid-air, sliding it right along the iron staff to slice off one of his fingers!

Ten fingers connect straight to the heart. The man shuddered violently, his grip loosening on the iron staff. Before he could even scream in agony, Ye Fusheng’s free left hand struck through the opening, landing a heavy palm strike squarely on his face!

Blood trickled down from his forehead. Ye Fusheng sheathed his blade and stood still, entering the secret passage without casting a single glance at the corpse behind him.

The passage was narrow, only wide enough for two people to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. He could hear quite a commotion not far ahead. It seemed a massive chaotic brawl had broken out inside, though he didn’t know if Chu Xiwei was the one who caused it. After a brief hesitation, he decided to go take a look.

Having served as a Lingying Guard for ten years, he was a master of concealment and stealth. He darted through the shadows like a nimble, swift gecko; the palace guards searching all around didn’t even notice a soul brushing right past them.

The further he went, the more complex the layout became. Seeing a squad of guards about to cross paths with him in a narrow corridor, Ye Fusheng leaped up onto the ceiling beams, only to collide head-on with a figure already crouching there.

His head knocked against something hard. Before Ye Fusheng could speak, a hand clamped over his mouth. Only after the guards below had marched past did the person release their grip, panting as they asked in a lowered voice: “Who are you?”

Ye Fusheng focused his gaze. The lighting here was dim, allowing him to only barely discern a petite young girl. Smelling a faint trace of blood from her, his mind whirled, and he lowered his voice: “Little Girl Lan, your granddaddy is calling you home for dinner.”

Qin Lanchang had been uncertain of his alignment, but hearing this, her heart skipped a beat: “Who on earth are you?”

It really was her. Ye Fusheng breathed a sigh of relief and smiled: “Your little uncle brought me here to take you back. What do you think?”

Qin Lanchang’s expression fractured: “My aunt?!”

Ye Fusheng: “…Girl, your eyes aren’t blind, and your ears aren’t broken, right?”

Neither his voice nor his physique resembled a woman in the slightest, alright?

“Little Uncle is such a dull and stoic man. If you weren’t my aunt, why would he bring you along?” Refusing to believe him, Qin Lanchang reached out. Ye Fusheng took the opportunity to catch her wrist and check her pulse, his brow furrowing: “You’ve suffered internal injuries?”

Qin Lanchang pouted: “I have external ones too, it hurts terribly. Auntie, where is my little uncle?”

“…Your uncle is someone who vanishes the moment you let him go. Also, stop calling me Auntie.” Ye Fusheng gently patted her head, only to end up with a hand full of dust. “A person like me also has a few days every month where I get incredibly irritable.”

Qin Lanchang: “…Hello, Uncle.”

Now that he had found her, they obviously couldn’t waste time loitering here. Ye Fusheng weighed his remaining strength and figured he could successfully protect this girl and escape. The current situation was chaotic; rather than running around like a headless fly, it would be better to head back to their agreed meeting spot and wait for Chu Xiwei to return on his own.

His plan was solid, but unfortunately, Heaven sometimes simply refuses to let people have it easy.

Qin Lanchang volunteered to lead the way, claiming she could avoid the guards. Ye Fusheng followed her as she turned left and twisted right, yet he didn’t feel like they were escaping—it felt more like they were delving deeper into the compound. Unfortunately, this particular maintenance tunnel was too narrow, barely allowing a small girl to turn around freely. A grown man like him had to hunch his shoulders and hold his breath just to avoid getting stuck. He asked in a low voice: “Are you certain we haven’t taken a wrong turn?”

There was no reply from behind. Only the sound of hurried footsteps fading into the distance remained. He didn’t need to guess to know that the little girl trailing behind him had turned around and bolted.

Qin Lanchang had suffered terrible luck these past two days, so she didn’t dare trust anyone easily. Unable to gauge whether this man was good or bad, she decided to shake him off first, then go find Lu Mingyuan to regroup.

“Quite a lot of schemes for such a little brat.” Ye Fusheng’s mind turned over, quickly figuring out her train of thought. Having been outsmarted by a fledgling chick this time, he had no other option but to exit the tunnel first before dragging that girl back by the collar.

Fortunately, the tunnel wasn’t long. At the end was a narrow stone door, only about the height of an average person. Ye Fusheng pushed hard against it, but unexpectedly, his hands met absolutely nothing—he didn’t know what wicked soul had built this, but the stone door was entirely a prop. If a person pushed with force, they would be carried forward entirely by their own momentum.

Before he could even curse out loud, Ye Fusheng tumbled headfirst inside. Beneath him was a winding, downward-sloping tunnel. The floor and walls were polished incredibly smooth, resembling a cave slithered through by massive serpents. With no handholds or leverage points whatsoever, he could only curl up to protect his vital areas and roll all the way down.

Luckily, Heaven wasn’t ready to take his life just yet. The chute wasn’t long, and he quickly hit the bottom. Scrambling up with a dizzy, aching head, he cursed Chu Xiwei and Qin Lanchang thoroughly in his heart several times over before looking up to survey his surroundings.

What he didn’t know was that Qin Lanchang had actually chosen this path very carefully for him. Because she couldn’t verify his allegiance, she didn’t dare send him down a dead-end trap. Recalling the layout of the underground palace she had pried out earlier, she knew this place was a secluded cultivation chamber. Furthermore, Xiao Yangu, the master of the underground palace, was currently locked in a fierce confrontation with the Southern Scholar, meaning this place was highly likely to be empty.

The chamber lacked candles. Instead, night-luminescent pearls were embedded into the walls, bathing the entire room in a faint, eerie luminescence. By this green-tinted light, Ye Fusheng noticed a pool of water right in the center of the room. He had nearly tumbled straight into it to become a drowned rat just moments ago.

In the center of the pool stood a stone platform, roughly seven feet square. Atop it sat a sandalwood sword rack, holding a simple, ancient longsword.

Hesitating for a moment, Ye Fusheng channeled his energy and leapt onto the platform. Lowering his gaze, he got a clear view of the ancient weapon. The sword was three feet long, elegant and classical, with flowing cloud patterns carved upon its hilt.

In that fraction of a second, an icy chill washed over his entire body.

This was undoubtedly a magnificent sword, and yet… back when he was still Gu Xiao, he had seen this exact weapon.

Borne upon the back of another man, the sword had not even left its scabbard, yet it had already caused his past self to suffer an utter, crushing defeat.

The blood in his veins froze instantly, only to boil violently a moment later. Before he could suppress the raging storm of his emotions, the sound of a stone door grinding open echoed from behind.

Ye Fusheng’s heart suffered a monumental jolt. A lethal killing intent suddenly flared within his eyes. With his right hand gripping his blade, he turned his head and looked back.