SS CH5

Since ancient times, righteousness and evil could not coexist, and people in the jianghu drew an even clearer distinction between the righteous paths and demonic factions. But there would always be those who crossed the Chu River and Han Border (the dividing line), trampling on the bottom lines of the secular world to live their lives as an ostentatious thorn.

Some were cleanly and swiftly plucked out and crushed, while others took root deep within the flesh until they were unfathomably profound.

The former were mostly rough outlaws whose ambitions were higher than the sky but whose skills were lower than their feet, harboring vain aspirations of swans’ meat. Even struggling through their entire lives, they only ever hopped around in muddy puddles, at most causing some painless, harmless trouble for those famous and orthodox sects, never being taken seriously. After all, the jianghu was vast enough not to worry about failing to accommodate these few buffoons muddling along waiting for death.

But within this unfathomably deep quagmire of the jianghu, those who could be counted among the latter were far too few. So few that, looking across the world, only the Hundred Ghosts Sect stood as such a massive thorn, towering between heaven and earth. Not only did they operate in both the black and white worlds, straddling both righteousness and evil, but they also acted exactly as they pleased. They were not afraid of causing trouble and were even more adept at resolving trouble.

No one knew exactly how many people were in the jianghu, and naturally, no one knew exactly how many “Ghosts” were in the Hundred Ghosts Sect. They had no past and no visible future, but they hid in every dark corner of the present, transforming into maggots attached to their prey’s bones, not resting until death.

Gathering intelligence, assassinations from the dark rankings, trading in medicine and poison, weapons, and hidden projectiles… there was nothing they dared to think about but not do. Even if there was, it was only because the Sect Master’s brain had temporarily short-circuited and hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

The Hundred Ghosts had always been shadows without form, and the ones widely renowned in the jianghu were but a very few among them. The Ghost Doctor Sun Minfeng was precisely one of these few.

“A healer has a benevolent heart, possessing miraculous hands that bring back spring.” The second half of that phrase did not do justice to Sun Minfeng’s peerless medical skills that dared to fight against ghosts and gods for a life; however, placing the first half on him was simply an insult to those four words. Anyone who sought him out for medical treatment had mostly eaten the heart of a bear and the gall of a leopard (recklessly courageous).

There was no other reason but this: a doctor cannot heal himself, and Sun Minfeng carried a chronic illness—in his brain.

Half mad, half awake; erratic and unpredictable in his joys and angers.

Leaning against the railing and gazing afar at the wind and rain, a faint fragrance floated, leaving a shadow without a sound.

Xie Wuyi took off his cloak, wearing a white long robe with black patterns, sitting face-to-face with the guests. On his gaunt face, his brows were tightly furrowed, and his pale, slightly blue lips were pressed into a thin blade. He wasn’t aggressive, yet a coldness seeped into the bones: “The conditions raised by the Ghost Doctor are forcing one to do what is too difficult.”

Two people sat opposite him. The black-clothed youth who had previously exchanged a glance with Ye Fusheng was holding a teacup and taking small sips, sitting as steadily and unbothered as a grand Buddha statue on an altar. The remaining person was a man in plain clothes, looking about thirty years old. With eyebrows painted like ink and lips like watercolor, he was the extreme of pale and plain, yet when he lowered his eyes and curved his lips, a trace of demonic charm spilled out, as if a stroke of heavy, vibrant color had been added to blue-and-white porcelain.

Sun Minfeng poured some white medicinal powder into his own teacup, idly stirring it with a silver needle. The room was instantly filled with a refreshing and intoxicating fragrance, as rich as wine, yet even more intoxicating than wine.

He drank this strange tea in one gulp like a cow chewing peonies, smacked his lips, and smiled: “Forcing you to do what is difficult, or sitting here waiting for death; I am not forcing you.”

The joints of Xie Wuyi’s hand resting on the corner of the table were distinct, blue veins popping out, yet his tone remained calm: “I, Xie, can be a dead man, but I cannot be a cripple.”

Sun Minfeng didn’t answer; instead, the black-clothed youth beside him raised his head: “This humble one has heard that Villa Master Xie did not accept the battle invitation sent by the Soul-Burying Palace, and the name of Duanshui Villa has yet to appear on the battle tally of the Clash of Blades.”

Xie Wuyi remained expressionless: “Petty scoundrels are not worth dirtying my hands.”

“Then on the Clash of Blades tally, is the position of Duanshui Villa to be left empty?” The black-clothed youth set down his teacup, his tone playfully intrigued. “Villa Master Xie, right now who knows how many pairs of eyes are staring at the signboard of Duanshui Villa. Whether you refuse the battle or accept the invitation, every move you make has massive implications… Sending Miss Xue thousands of li away to invite the Ghost Doctor here, isn’t that precisely the choice Villa Master Xie has already made? We do not ask for much. Is a single Duanshui Saber more important than your life?”

Xie Wuyi: “Yes.”

“Then I want it even more.” The black-clothed youth curved the corner of his mouth. “Villa Master Xie, right now Duanshui Villa is surrounded by strong enemies. With just this crippled body of yours, can you withstand the open spears and hidden arrows? The Duanshui Saber is heavier than your life, but compared to the Duanshui Villa itself, which is heavier and which is lighter?”

Xie Wuyi looked at him for a moment, then took the teapot and poured him a cup of tea: “This…”

“My surname is Chu, Chu Xiwei.” The black-clothed youth raised an eyebrow, his fingers slowly rubbing the side of the cup. “I have long heard the name of the Number One Saber Under Heaven. Visiting today, I now know that meeting the person is not as good as hearing the name.”

“In the jianghu, those who fish for fame, who receive unmerited praise and false titles are as numerous as crucian carp crossing the river. I, Xie, have never dared to boast of being ‘Number One’.” Xie Wuyi slowly began to smile. The corners of his eyes lifted slightly, and his lips curved, making this man in his thirties look somewhat charming. Yet his gaze was too cold, dark and profound, reflecting a chilling, icy glimmer, just like a saber silently unsheathed.

“Famous throughout the world from eighty-two battles in the Western Regions; defeating all heroes at the Martial Arts Saber and Sword Conference. Once, Duanshui drew the moon’s shadow and startled the wild goose (Jinghong); now, the drawn moon is gone without a trace, and the startled goose’s song is over. Only Duanshui remains in this world. If the title above Villa Master Xie’s head is merely an empty name, then who in the jianghu would still dare claim greatness?” Chu Xiwei smiled lightly. “What disappoints me is that you, Villa Master, can pick it up, but cannot put it down.”

Xie Wuyi narrowed his eyes: “The Sect Master of Hundred Ghosts indeed knows much in detail. It’s a pity that worldly matters cannot all be controlled in the palm of one’s hand. Sect Master Chu only knows one side and not the other; not having put yourself in my shoes, naturally it is easy to say.”

Sun Minfeng drank the remaining half-pot of tea water and interjected: “You two who appreciate and cherish each other can pause for a moment. Let us continue discussing business. I wonder if Villa Master Xie intends to use the Duanshui Saber to exchange for a chance to alter your tendons and change your blood, or to close the doors, see off the guests, and live or die with the villa?”

Xie Wuyi said: “Important matters require careful consideration.”

“One, two, three, can you give your careful answer now?”

“Mr. Sun,” Chu Xiwei pressed down on his shoulder. “The Clash of Blades Tournament begins in seven days. Villa Master Xie is more anxious than we are. Why pester him over this brief moment?”

Sun Minfeng stopped talking and poured the tea leaves from the cup into his mouth to chew. Xie Wuyi stood up and said: “I will give my reply tomorrow. Chanyi, take our honored guests to the Songtao Courtyard.”

At this moment, a servant ran over in a panic, whispering a few words to Xue Chanyi, who had been waiting outside the door the whole time. Eldest Miss Xue’s beautiful face instantly showed anger.

Xue Chanyi held in her breath, signaled the housekeeper to lead the guests away, and then walked to Xie Wuyi’s side, her tone urgent: “Master, someone broke into the Lingbo Pavilion, stole the Duanshui Saber, and has now been chased by the guards near ‘Wanghai Chao’!”

With a crisp sound, a teacup shattered on the ground. Xie Wuyi’s expression turned instantly cold.

Guyang City was a mountain city, surrounded by mountains on three sides and facing water on one, with countless valleys and wild forests. Although Duanshui Villa’s glory had faded, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse. It was situated in the remote east of the city. Aside from the villa itself, it also encompassed over ten li of continuous mountain peaks behind it, occupying a vast area. Advancing, one could mingle in the marketplace; retreating, one could wander wildly in the mountains and forests.

“Wanghai Chao” was a sheer cliff on the back mountain of Duanshui Villa. The terrain was steep with jagged, bizarrely shaped rocks. Below the cliff was a large river whose currents changed in the blink of an eye—at times surging fiercely like great waves washing sand, at other times desolate and still as a freezing pool. With the slightest carelessness, one would be swept away by the undercurrents; even a skilled swimmer falling in would end up floating belly-up in less than an hour.

The Duanshui Saber Technique took its meaning from drawing a blade to sever water. The saber technique’s momentum—both its tempestuous, crashing waves and its steady, continuous trickle—were derived from Wanghai Chao. It was the place where successive generations of Villa Masters practiced martial arts and trained with the saber. Thus, it became the forbidden ground of Duanshui Villa. When every generation’s Villa Master passed away, their ashes were to be scattered into the great river, flowing with the water and returning to heaven and earth.

The night deepened, and the wind and rain grew fiercer. The torches would be extinguished by the rain barely moments after being lit. The guards of Duanshui Villa finally managed to force the saber thief to the edge of the cliff. It was a burly man dressed in a short-cut outfit, tightly clutching a sheathed long saber. Under the pressure of the crowd, he constantly backed away. Suddenly, a rock tumbled down the cliff, scaring him into a cold sweat.

Unable to advance or retreat, at a dead end.

In this pitch-black darkness, Ye Fusheng, this half-blind man, actually thrived like a fish in water. His eyes saw clearly in the dark, like a cat adept at lurking. He hid completely soundlessly among the branches of a tree; even the sound of rain hitting the leaves was more imposing than him, without alarming anyone nearby in the slightest. This tree grew tall and large; not only could he see the chaos ahead clearly, but he could also take in all the unusual movements on the steep cliff diagonally below.

When the incident occurred at Lingbo Pavilion, he couldn’t be bothered to care and merely followed the maid toward Xie Li’s courtyard. As a result, the moment he entered, he found the courtyard dead quiet; the little brat was missing.

The missing young master was currently keeping his tender, serious little face taut. He had bypassed the route of the crowd chasing the fugitive and followed the contour of the mountain peak, climbing up a steep cliff face. This cliff wall was close to the main precipice, and the jagged rocks concealed his small figure completely. If it weren’t for Ye Fusheng’s weird, night-cat-like eyes, he truly wouldn’t have spotted this little rabbit cub who knew there were tigers on the mountain yet still headed toward it.

He couldn’t meddle in Duanshui Villa’s affairs, but entrusted by others, he had to be loyal to their cause. If anything happened to this child, Ye Fusheng’s lifelong heroic reputation would be reduced to drawn flatbreads (empty promises). However, although Xie Li was young, his light-body qinggong skills were genuinely not bad. While one couldn’t say he walked on this cliff as if on flat ground, he was still barely agile and nimble enough, no different from a human gecko. To prevent a rash intervention from startling the child and causing him to fall, Ye Fusheng had no choice but to find a suitable place to nestle down, watching his every move without blinking.

After about half a cup of tea’s time, Xie Li finally climbed to just below the edge of the cliff. However, he didn’t flip himself up; instead, he stepped on a large rock and used the leverage to press himself into a hidden spot.

This was probably the first time that a burly man had acted as a thief. He was more anxious and embarrassed than a marketplace pickpocket getting caught, his charcoal-black face flushing red. Yet currently unable to fly away even if he had wings, he could only tightly grip the scabbard, nearly falling off the cliff several times.

Xue Chanyi finally arrived. She pursed her lips without a word, raised her hand, and lashed her whip at him. The man instinctively raised his arm to block, but midway through, he remembered he was holding the Duanshui Saber. He forcibly turned his body, taking her whip strike squarely on his back.

Xue Chanyi’s willow eyebrows stood on end: “Audacious bandit, return the saber!”

The man hissed in a breath: “Tell your master to come out and speak!”

Xue Chanyi wasn’t old, but her temper was high. The long whip circled like a flood dragon emerging from water, striking head-on once more. The man gritted his teeth, and the Duanshui Saber was fiercely unsheathed. The moment the long whip wrapped around the blade, the man merely followed the momentum with a chop, and Miss Xue’s whip lost a whole segment!

In the tree, Ye Fusheng shook his head, thinking to himself: Hitting a woman, and still taking advantage of a superior weapon—utterly shameless.

Having lost its forward momentum, the long whip snapped back, striking heavily against Xue Chanyi’s hand. A bright red whip mark instantly appeared on the back of her hand, the skin and flesh splitting open. She dropped the whip and reached out with one hand to grab the red silk sash at her waist, but someone pressed down on her shoulder.

“I, Xie, am here. What advice do you have?”

Ye Fusheng, who had previously been slouching as if boneless, slowly sat up straight. He looked at the man stepping out from the crowd, feeling as if all the blood in his body had rushed backward. A thunderous roar exploded in his mind, bringing a sharp pain to his ears and eyes. His fingers twitched a few times unconsciously, leaving several small pits in the tree trunk.

Xie Wuyi held an oiled paper umbrella, his light robes and loose sash making him look like a teaching scholar strolling casually through a courtyard. The rain was heavy, yet over his entire body, only his fluttering hemlines were slightly wet. His face was gaunt, but his eyes were colder than the edge of a blade.

Xue Chanyi took a step back: “Master!”

The man was intimidated by his aura, nearly taking a step back and falling straight down. Tightly gripping the Duanshui Saber, no matter how one looked at him, he appeared fierce on the outside but cowardly on the inside. Regardless of how the jianghu people had slandered Xie Wuyi over the past three years, seeing his gaze and posture now immediately made one recall the Duanshui Villa Master who defeated all heroes at the conference back then; he was even more terrifying than he had been then.

It was as if a tiger roaring into the clouds had transformed into a wolf seeking whom to devour.

Xie Wuyi stood seven steps away from him, repeating: “I, Xie, am here. What advice do you have?”

The man took a deep breath and said stiffly: “I dare not offer advice, I only ask the Villa Master one question—why do you not accept the Clash of Blades battle invitation?”

From the dark, Ye Fusheng, who had just calmed his emotions, heard this and found it somewhat amusing: The emperor is not in a hurry, but the eunuch is dying of anxiety.

Xie Wuyi glanced at the man, his gaze falling onto his hand: “You also use a saber?”

The man puffed out his chest: “Yes! I am…”

“I, Xie, have no interest in knowing which clove of garlic you are.” Xie Wuyi sneered. “To take without asking is to be a thief. What, do you think that because I haven’t accepted the Clash of Blades invitation, I have no right to hold the Duanshui Saber, and so you’ve come to take the saber and fight on my behalf?”

The man stiffened his neck and said: “So what if it is? The Soul-Burying Palace is an evil and crooked path; everyone has the right to execute them. As the Duanshui Villa Master, you do not think of eliminating demons and defending the righteous path, instead avoiding battle and refusing guests. Do you know how many heroes wring their wrists in despair over this?”

“How utterly shameless.” A voice came from the crowd, perfectly echoing the exact words in Ye Fusheng’s heart. Rare to find a kindred spirit, he spared the person a glance and discovered it was the black-clothed guest he had briefly glimpsed earlier.

The Sect Master of Hundred Ghosts didn’t mind the situation blowing up while watching the spectacle. Holding an umbrella, he stepped forward. Wearing narrow-sleeved black clothes, his features were handsome to the point of being aggressive, and the corners of his mouth curved into a mocking arc: “This humble one has seen little of the world; that such shameless behavior can be spoken of so high-soundingly has truly broadened my horizons. Thank you, sir, for teaching by example.”

These words were spoken without any politeness. Unfortunately, Chu Xiwei had the face of a pretty boy living off women, and he ran into a reckless brute with poor judgment, who immediately hurled back a sentence: “What the hell are you?”

Chu Xiwei smiled, lowering his eyes. A sinister, ghostly aura emanated from him, making everyone who saw it feel a chill down their spines.

Ye Fusheng withdrew his gaze, thinking to himself: The old demon of Black Mountain wearing the skin of Nie Xiaoqian.

“Enough.” Xie Wuyi waved his hand, his gaze like lightning. “What do you want?”

“The Soul-Burying Palace is arrogant and aggressive, consecutively seizing four famous weapons of the martial arts world. There is no righteous hero who is not indignant.” The man said loudly: “Villa Master Xie, if you accept the Clash of Blades invitation and fight for the honor of the righteous path, proving that Duanshui Villa does not currently have an empty reputation, I will return the saber to you. Otherwise, I will pass this saber into the hands of another hero, so as not to let the Soul-Burying Palace act wildly and unchecked!”

“Good, good, good…” Xie Wuyi said the word three times in a row, expressionless. The people around felt a chill on their necks, as if a steel blade had swept past.

The paper umbrella in his hand suddenly spun, the raindrops whipping outward, striking the man in the face. The man immediately bent backward to dodge, but unexpectedly Xie Wuyi thrust his palm forward, his fingers brought together like a blade, already merely inches from his throat!

The man immediately raised the saber to block. Xie Wuyi poked a finger onto the blade, but it was the man who was jolted backward. He was already standing at the edge of the cliff; with this blow, he didn’t even have time to cry out before tumbling backward. Xie Wuyi furrowed his brow, turning his palm into a claw to grab him, but a trace of ruthless cruelty flashed in the man’s eyes. He forcefully dodged the grab, falling down with both himself and the saber.

Almost at the exact same moment, a small figure fell down right after him. In the nick of time, Xie Li kicked the man’s hand away with both feet. With a hook and a flick, he caught the Duanshui Saber in his hand. However, he was too young and had exhausted too much energy earlier, so he couldn’t steady himself. If he hadn’t grabbed onto a rock with one hand in time, he wouldn’t just be hanging a zhang (three meters) below the cliff top like wind-dried sausage, but would have fallen down to feed the fishes.

All this happened in a flash of lightning. Everyone was stunned by this sudden turn of events, and Xue Chanyi’s face went completely pale: “Little Li!”

Xie Wuyi’s expression changed, and he went to jump down without thinking, but was yanked back by someone—Chu Xiwei leaped down past him.

However, it was too late. The rock in Xie Li’s hand emitted a cracking sound of being unable to bear the weight. The boy’s face was deathly white as he plummeted straight down.
But even now, he still held tightly onto the Duanshui Saber, refusing to let go.

Chu Xiwei’s hand was just a hair’s breadth away from grabbing him, but ended up only tearing off a piece of his clothing. Before he even had time to furrow his brows, a sky-blue shadow flashed past his eyes, so fast he couldn’t even see clearly what it was.

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