Su Yiyun moved like a rat that had been stepped on its tail — he leapt to his feet and launched into a torrent of abuse. “Lin Sui’an, you shameless vile woman — so you’ve tracked me all the way to Yidu! But Yidu is the territory of our Su clan of Suizhou. Today you’ve fallen into my hands, and I intend to settle every last grievance between us with a full and proper accounting!”

Lin Sui’an blinked. She found this utterly baffling.

Su Yiyun actually thought she had come all this way specifically to hunt him down? What colossal self-importance.

When Su Yiyun had his merits stripped by the emperor and was dragged down from the Answering Heaven Tower for writing that indecent song, he had looked as though he had already given up the will to live. She had assumed that even if he didn’t throw himself off a building or hang himself, he would at minimum collapse into a broken shell and fade from the world. Yet here he was today, red-faced and full-lunged, bellowing curses at full volume — clearly not doing badly for himself at all.

Truly a cockroach that could not be killed. Formidable life force.

“Everyone get up here — tie this vile woman up!” Su Yiyun pointed at Lin Sui’an and shrieked. “Capture her alive — a generous reward for the one who does it!”

The seven or eight remaining Ascend to Immortal Sect sword disciples stared at Su Yiyun as though he had lost his mind: Have you gone completely insane? Did you not see what just happened to all the brothers who went up there?

Lin Sui’an turned to ask the Pure Gate disciples in the street behind her: “Does anyone have a steamed bun?”

Nobody had yet recovered from the shock of the battle. They all stood there blankly, until the young man carrying the bamboo steamer as a weapon dug out a ball of raw dough. “Would this do?”

Lin Sui’an took it and tossed it in her hand. “Perfect.”

Su Yiyun’s shouting grew louder. “Why haven’t you moved yet?! Can one single girl really have frightened all of you out of your wits—”

Splat. A wad of raw dough flew straight into Su Yiyun’s open mouth, jamming every word back down his throat. His eyes rolled white, and he toppled backward with a thud, both hands clawing at the dough with muffled howls.

Lin Sui’an had arrived almost simultaneously with the dough. A sharp gust of wind swept up the Seventh Lord’s black veil, revealing a smooth, pale throat with a prominent Adam’s apple. Suddenly, Lin Sui’an sensed murderous intent closing in from behind — someone was attacking by stealth!

Without turning her head, she swung her right hand and Qian Jing twisted in a flourish, slicing apart a length of sectional whip chain behind her with a crackling shatter. Her left hand reached forward and very nearly seized the Seventh Lord’s black veil — but at that precise moment, four beams of sword light stabbed in simultaneously from front, back, left, and right. Lin Sui’an had no choice but to pull back and retreat. Qian Jing swept around her in a full arc to repel the sword light — and in that one moment of retreat and sweep, the Seventh Lord had been shielded by someone and drawn back a full zhang away.

“To think the Master of Qian Jing, whose name shakes the rivers and lakes, turns out to be a slight and frail young lady. Truly far beyond what I expected.”

A man of about thirty stood atop a tall lamp pole — sharp chin, high forehead, dressed in an Ascend to Immortal Sect long robe. He held a three-chi sword in hand, its golden tassel swaying in the wind, cutting a rather impressive figure.

The remnants of the Ascend to Immortal Sect were overjoyed. They hastily paid their respects with raised voices: “Welcome, Sect Master.”

The disciples under the lamp pole were four Ascend to Immortal Sect sword fighters, the very ones who had launched the four-pronged sword-light attack on Lin Sui’an just now. Unlike ordinary sect disciples, they each wore a yellow cloth strip tied around their foreheads — of evidently higher rank. Behind them, another fifty-odd Ascend to Immortal Sect sword fighters poured into the street as reinforcements.

The onlooking civilians, seeing the situation turn dangerous, scattered and ran for their lives — conveniently clearing a path. Jin Ruo led the Pure Gate contingent rushing in as well, and they stood in a line behind Lin Sui’an.

The two sides were once again in standoff — equal in numbers, equal in bearing. This time, neither dared make a reckless move.

“The person on the lamp pole is Ascend to Immortal Sect Master Ximen Yang, twenty-eight years old, skilled with the sword. His sword style is called Tangled Silk — very difficult to deal with.” Shen Xiang said rapidly into Lin Sui’an’s ear.

Lin Sui’an gave the Sect Master on the lamp pole a brief glance. Ugly face — a minor antagonist, not worth worrying about. She turned her gaze directly back onto the Seventh Lord.

The Seventh Lord stood behind the ranks of Ascend to Immortal Sect disciples, one hand steadying his veil hat. His robe sleeve slid back to the elbow, revealing a pale and slender arm covered in grotesque, terrifying scars — all old wounds. His breathing was rapid and labored, his frame swaying slightly, as though he were very unaccustomed to such violent exertion.

Supporting the Seventh Lord was a youth dressed as a page boy. In his hand he held half a sectional whip chain, his face caked in thick white powder with two jarring spots of red painted on his cheeks. The blood from the corner of his mouth had mixed with the powder into a sticky mess. Lin Sui’an recognized him — he was the page boy who had guided her through Hao Liu’s home, called Man Qi.

Very good. Lin Sui’an thought. It was indeed the person she had seen in the golden finger memories.

“You are the Seventh Lord?” Lin Sui’an asked.

The hand the Seventh Lord had been using to steady his veil hat visibly trembled — and then slowly lowered, retreating back beneath the veil. “Does the Master of Qian Jing know me?”

“I don’t know you. But I’ve seen you.” Lin Sui’an said.

“Oh? I have no recollection of that whatsoever.”

“If I said it was the deceased Hao Liu who came to me in a dream — would you believe it?”

“To think Hao Liu held me so deeply in mind. I am quite flattered.”

Lin Sui’an raised an eyebrow. “Do you know the Third Lord?”

The Seventh Lord’s veil trembled slightly — as if he had tilted his head just a fraction. A silence, and then, “What a remarkably surprising question.”

There was a familiar quality to those words that struck Lin Sui’an at once. The first person she thought of was Yun Zhong Yue — but that was quickly dismissed. If it were Yun Zhong Yue, he would have thrown his hands up and walked away long ago; he would not be standing here bantering.

Then who was this?

Lin Sui’an rapidly filtered through every voice stored in her memory. Still nothing.

Could this person have deliberately altered his voice?

At this point, there was nothing to do but try to shake something loose.

“You remind me of someone I know.” Lin Sui’an sighed softly. “I’ve missed him greatly.”

The Seventh Lord fell silent again — this time for even longer.

The Pure Gate members around them listened with complete bewilderment.

Gan Hongying leaned toward Jin Ruo. “Junior Gate Master — who is the person Lin Niangzi is speaking of?”

Jin Ruo: “……”

How was he supposed to know?! He only knew that if someone surnamed Hua were to hear those words, it would undoubtedly set off another storm of jealous theatrics.

After a long pause, a low laugh emerged from behind the Seventh Lord’s veil. “Lin Sui’an, you truly are a strange person.”

Lin Sui’an’s internal thoughts: It’s over — I didn’t shake a single useful clue loose.

Su Yiyun had pulled himself off the ground and yanked the dough out of his mouth. He shrieked at the top of his voice: “Ximen Yang, my Su clan has poured so much money into your Ascend to Immortal Sect — and this is how you repay us, by standing here watching the spectacle?! Everyone get up there! Capture Lin Sui’an, destroy the Pure Gate — this month the Ascend to Immortal Sect’s reward doubles!”

“Su Tenth Young Master, this time you must not forget what you promised!”

Ximen Yang dropped from the lamp pole, his sword light cutting a cold arc straight for Lin Sui’an. The four disciples stationed below the pole attacked simultaneously as well.

“Pure Gate disciples — guard against the enemy with me!” Jin Ruo shouted. “Azure Dragon, Vermilion Bird, White Tiger, Black Tortoise — cover Master’s flanks!”

As the four charged out armed with carrying poles, a wok spatula, a cleaver, and a spade, Lin Sui’an thought: their new names truly do carry an air of grandeur. Weapons as lowly as these and yet they strike with the presence of legendary blades.

Gan Hongying had only ordinary martial ability, but hacked and slashed at the fringes with her boning knife, landing unexpected strikes. Great Elder Dongmen Wen and Second Elder Shen Xiang had no martial training whatsoever and simply swung wildly at anything in reach. Third Elder Gao Han and Fourth Elder Bai Shan were the major combat forces, charging forward alongside Jin Ruo. The Pure Gate disciples, greatly emboldened, threw themselves into the fray with everything at hand — flour, scissors, spices, tea sifters, pliers, flat-noodle soup pieces — a motley arsenal of weapons tossed without restraint. And yet in sheer momentum they swept right over the Ascend to Immortal Sect.

Lin Sui’an sidestepped Ximen Yang’s thoroughly unimaginative straight thrust with a turn of her body. From the corner of her eye she spotted the Seventh Lord and Man Qi taking advantage of the chaos to slip away. Her patience worn thin, she swung Qian Jing back in a powerful strike — she fully expected this blow to send Ximen Yang flying, but unexpectedly he stepped back at the last instant, pivoted at the waist, relaxed his wrist, let the sword flower close, then extended forward in a smooth encircling movement. The motion wound once around Qian Jing, peeling away nearly nine-tenths of the momentum, before the sword tip curved upward in a redirecting lift that skimmed past Lin Sui’an’s nose by a hair’s width.

Lin Sui’an’s heart gave a start. She launched another technique — Slitting the Throat, Blood Ten Zhang. Ximen Yang’s toes tapped the ground in rapid succession, his body spinning in a tight rotation, his wrist flickering at speed. His sword coiled around Qian Jing in that same warped, sinuous manner — like a serpent — and again stripped away seven-tenths of the force behind Qian Jing’s momentum.

Well now. This is interesting.

Lin Sui’an was suddenly engaged. She drove three more strikes of Blade-Raft Cuts Sorrow in quick succession. Sure enough, every one was neutralized.

“Lin Niangzi, be careful — Tangled Silk Sword specializes in close entangling combat. It turns force against itself with softness, and the greater the strength, the worse your position.” Bai Shan shouted from across the courtyard. “Plenty of power-type blade fighters in the rivers and lakes have fallen to his hand!”

At least Bai Shan the fighting fanatic had some use, Lin Sui’an thought. He had doubtless also been the one who compiled the combat analysis of various sects’ martial techniques that Gan Hongying had sent over.

Ximen Yang stretched his mouth into a grin. “I have heard the Master of Qian Jing possesses boundless strength, capable of standing against a hundred opponents single-handedly — but what a pity: of all the people you could have faced, you’ve faced me, Ximen Yang. My Tangled Silk Sword is your exact counter!”

Lin Sui’an tilted an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

As she spoke, she sank her shoulder, tucked her elbow, pivoted at the waist, opened a rear arc in her step, and used her arm to draw Qian Jing back — then advanced the blade forward, following Ximen Yang’s own line of force, and traced a counterclockwise circle. She peeled away his sword power completely.

This sequence was flowing and natural, settled and smooth, its force supple and delivered cleanly. It bore a nine-tenths resemblance to the Tangled Silk Sword — in fact it was more graceful and unrestrained.

Ximen Yang’s complexion drained. “You — you — how — how do you—”

He never finished the sentence. Lin Sui’an’s techniques came flowing after one another like a river in full flood — cross-step tip, cover-step glide, grind-step rotating blade, swing-step cloud blade. Her footwork was both extremely fast and extremely steady; hard and soft interwoven, solid and empty shifting. Her movements were dazzling and impossible to read.

Ximen Yang was completely lost. What Lin Sui’an was using looked like a version of the Tangled Silk Sword, yet appeared somehow more sophisticated. Every move he launched felt as though it had been driven into cotton, while every move she returned landed with the weight of a thousand jin. Within five or six exchanges, the flesh split open across both palms and blood flew — his arms went so numb and limp he could barely lift them.

“How — how do you know the Tangled Silk Sword?!” Ximen Yang used nearly every ounce of remaining breath to force the words out.

Lin Sui’an smiled. “What Tangled Silk Sword? This is my Watermelon Blade.”

“What?!”

Lin Sui’an turned sideways, twisted the blade, and Qian Jing gave a sharp ring as it locked dead against Ximen Yang’s sword hilt. She circled her arm once and swung him across — then settled into a Tai Chi-style Wild Horse Parting Its Mane. “One great big watermelon, split down the middle—” She swung in the reverse direction and Ximen Yang lurched across to the other side, staggering several steps, his topknot coming loose, sweat pouring down his face. “Your half—” She abruptly drew the blade out in a straight piercing thrust, and a bright red blossom burst open at Ximen Yang’s wrist — the tendons in his sword hand were fully severed. His sword left his hand and fell ringing to the ground, snapping in two on impact.

Ximen Yang crashed to his knees, frantically pressing his wrist to stop the bleeding, drenched in sweat, his lips pale.

Lin Sui’an leisurely turned a blade flourish and settled into a stance — White Crane Spreads Its Wings. “Watermelon’s been halved — Shattering Stillness.”

Jin Ruo was elated. He kicked away an Ascend to Immortal Sect disciple and raised his voice in a shout: “The Ascend to Immortal Sect Master has been defeated! Will you lot not lay down your weapons at once?!”

Mid-fight, the Ascend to Immortal Sect disciples froze and looked at each other in bewilderment, at a loss for what to do.

Su Yiyun poked his head out from behind the wreckage of the carriage: “Why have you stopped?! Keep going — keep going!”

“Everyone stand down!” Ximen Yang forced the words through clenched teeth. “We’ve lost!”

Su Yiyun was incandescent with rage. “Ximen Yang, you dare defy my orders?! Are you not afraid I’ll cut off your funding?!”

“You need to be alive to spend money.” Ximen Yang trembled as he stood, a cold sneer on his face. “Besides, your Su clan of Suizhou still owes us an entire season’s reward.”

At those words, even Lin Sui’an was startled along with everyone else.

My, my. The Su clan of Suizhou really is every bit as much bark as no bite as ever.

Su Yiyun shot a venomous glare at Ximen Yang, then turned his gaze to the Ascend to Immortal Sect disciples. “Ximen Yang is no longer fit to serve as Sect Master of the Ascend to Immortal Sect. Whoever can capture Lin Sui’an and seize Brocade Mile Street today — that person will be the new Sect Master!”

The Ascend to Immortal Sect disciples exchanged glances, several expressions wavering.

Su Yiyun: “Without the Su clan’s backing, you’ll be the next Pure Gate! Are you willing to live like stray dogs, scraping for scraps every day?!”

Expressions of fierce resolve crossed the faces of the disciples one by one. Hands reached once more for the long swords at their sides.

Lin Sui’an let out a contemptuous laugh, and paced to the center of the long street. Her arm rose, and Qian Jing rang out in a long, resonant cry — as though a sky full of stars were singing in brilliant chorus.

“Come, then!”

Behind her, the Pure Gate brothers’ shouts shook the very sky: “FIGHT!”

The Ascend to Immortal Sect disciples’ faces filled with fear. They fell back, almost without meaning to.

At that precise moment, a great shout sounded from outside the street:

“Everyone stand down!”

A squad of constables charged into the long street, forcibly separating the Ascend to Immortal Sect and the Pure Gate. Behind them came a file of government runners carrying swords at their waists, who jogged forward and split neatly to either side — and between them appeared a figure in green official robes, a black stone belt at the waist, a court cap on the head. He walked into the center of the street with robes swept back by the wind. His handsome, striking features seemed to carry their own light, brightening everything around them.

Su Yiyun’s legs nearly gave way. He could not believe his own eyes. “Hua — Hua Hua — Fourth Young Master Hua?!”

Hua Yitang’s gaze was cold as ice as it swept over Su Yiyun’s face. “I am Hua Yitang, Judicial Military Adjutant of the Yidu government office. A moment ago I received a report of criminal elements brawling in the open street, injuring citizens, and disturbing public order. I am hereby placing all persons involved in custody, to be taken back to the government office for strict interrogation and judgment!”

As he spoke, he raised a hand. The constables and government runners drew their weapons in unison, and the Ascend to Immortal Sect was ringed in like an iron barrel.

Side Story:

Hua Yitang: Oh, it’s finally my turn to shake the street.

Does everyone remember who the Seventh Lord is? (taps fingers together)