“The ability to nearly annihilate the Crane-Controlling Family suggests formidable strength,” Sui Yunzhu remarked while feeling her way along the path. “If a large group of skilled fighters suddenly entered from another country, it would be difficult to go unnoticed. Within the Song Dynasty, only the Ethereal Villa possesses such power.”
Lou Mingyue was stunned by Sui Yunzhu’s flawless analysis. Why hadn’t she thought of this herself? Even if the mastermind was truly Yelü Huangwu from the Liao Kingdom, they must have a base within Song territory to operate so elusively.
“Are we meant to be the vanguard?” Tao Zhu asked.
The possibility of facing the real Ethereal Villa both excited and worried the group.
An Jiu, however, remained calm. No enemy or perilous path could instill fear in her. She was well aware of her lackluster abilities within the Crane-Controlling Army, but life on the edge always required risking everything. There was no safe approach.
An Jiu once carried out a mission targeting a powerful figure in the National Army. When the assignment was given, everyone in the organization believed the best outcome would be mutual destruction. Yet, she perfectly assassinated the target under heavy guard and survived, cementing her status as the king of snipers.
Her brief life was filled with regrets, but in the art of killing, she achieved one remarkable feat after another.
To the world, she was a formidable top-tier assassin, fearless and tenacious. Yet, she was also a mental patient. Perhaps her psychological fragility was the root cause of her mental illness.
Standing at a height others looked up to, An Jiu never felt pride nor looked down on others. In her heart, she was a numb and lowly mouse.
She was a paradox, embodying extreme strength and extreme weakness.
Given a chance at rebirth, she could have chosen a peaceful life. However, Mei Yanran and Mei Jiu, the mother-daughter pair, had unearthed the shackles An Jiu could never break free from. In her previous life, she had watched her mother suffer abuse, regretting that she couldn’t offer even a word of comfort when her mother died suddenly, torn between hope and despair.
An Jiu saw herself in Mei Jiu. When Mei Jiu suddenly perished, she believed fate had given her a chance to make amends. Thus, she was determined to save Mei Yanran, as if doing so would redeem her soul and grant her eternal peace.
“I’m itchy,” Li Qingzhi mumbled.
Sui Yunzhu halted abruptly. “Where?”
“The back of my neck.”
Hearing their conversation, Lou Mingyue immediately shot an arrow. It embedded into a tree trunk and exploded, emitting a soft blue light.
As the surroundings brightened, An Jiu recognized it as one of Lou Xiaowu’s light crossbows.
Sui Yunzhu pulled Li Qingzhi into the light. Under its glow, they saw dense, scaly blisters covering Li Qingzhi’s nape. The translucent bubbles were visibly filling with blood, a chilling sight. Upon closer inspection, they noticed tiny legs beneath the blisters – they were insects.
Sui Yunzhu drew her dagger, ready to scrape off the layer of blood blisters.
“Wait!” An Jiu quickly intervened.
Sui Yunzhu looked at her quizzically.
An Jiu tested the heat of the blue light torch. Finding it sufficiently warm, she pulled it from the tree trunk and gently rolled it over Li Qingzhi’s neck. The insects fell off in droves.
“Can this burn them off completely?” Sui Yunzhu asked. The blood-sucking insects’ sharp stingers had penetrated the skin. If only the surface was burned, leaving the stingers embedded, the flesh would soon rot.
“The insects curl up quickly when heated. They won’t leave remnants,” An Jiu explained.
Sui Yunzhu, half-believing, leaned in for a closer look. Though not entirely familiar with these creatures, she saw that An Jiu was correct and felt relieved. In such a damp environment, even a minor external wound could be fatal. She silently thanked her luck for heeding An Jiu’s timely warning.
“The vegetation here is too dense. We need to quickly cross the forest and enter the valley,” Sui Yunzhu said. “Let’s use our lightness skills with the torches lit!”
Lou Mingyue glanced at An Jiu.
“You go ahead,” An Jiu said. “I’m an external cultivator and can’t use lightness skills.”
The others were surprised. Most martial artists nowadays practice both internal and external cultivation, with only a preference for one or the other. Pure external cultivators were rare.
No one objected to leaving An Jiu behind. Their team was already stronger than Chu Diangjiang’s, and losing one member wouldn’t matter much. There had never been a precedent for waiting for someone during a mission.
“Will you be alright alone?” Lou Mingyue asked.
“I’ll be fine. You should go,” An Jiu said, waving the blue light torch. “I’ll keep this torch.”
Lou Mingyue hesitated, then handed An Jiu his blue light crossbow and grappling crossbow. “These might help you. Take care.”
In such a dense forest, the grappling crossbow was indeed useful for An Jiu. She accepted both crossbows without hesitation, attaching them to her left and right arms.
After the group’s discussion, they each lit a torch and departed using their lightness skills.
An Jiu was familiar with the grappling crossbow, which was well-suited for those without lightness skills. She aimed at a thick branch ahead, triggered the mechanism, and with a whoosh, the arrow trailing an extremely fine silk thread embedded itself precisely into the branch.
Utilizing the silk’s elasticity, she pushed off with her feet and soared through the air, moving even faster than those using lightness skills.
Upon landing, An Jiu tried to remove the rope but was surprised to find that Lou Xiaowu had modified this grappling crossbow. It only contained two arrows and couldn’t be untied like before. After some exploration, she triggered the mechanism again, and the arrow swiftly retracted.
The forceful retraction caused her to stumble back several steps, her entire arm burning with pain.
Even so, the modified grappling crossbow’s functionality was impressive.
An Jiu practiced a few times nearby and soon caught up to Lou Mingyue’s group, relying on her keen spiritual sense and the grappling crossbow to navigate through the forest.
At this point, An Jiu felt a sticky liquid where the crossbow was attached to her arm. She touched it and realized she was bleeding.
An external wound in such an environment was no trivial matter!
An Jiu immediately stopped to loosen the crossbow, undid her sleeve binding, applied some wound medicine to the abrasion, and bandaged it with a clean cotton cloth.
After catching her breath at a distance, An Jiu took out the map and examined it carefully under the light of the crossbow. She noticed that Lou Mingyue and the others seemed to be heading in the wrong direction.
Their chosen path was indeed the shortest, but it led through dense forest where sunlight couldn’t penetrate, concealing many potential dangers.
Considering her current condition, An Jiu decided to leave the forest.
Following her judgment, she forged ahead, cutting through thorns and vines. By the time she reached the forest’s edge, it was already dusk.
Looking at the scattered orange light, An Jiu suddenly felt at peace. The Crane-Controlling Institute’s trial and the Dragon Guard selection no longer mattered to her. She would use this time to improve her abilities!
As she reached the forest’s edge, a light rain began to fall.
The fine, misty rain enveloped the world in a hazy shroud.
An Jiu climbed a densely leafed old tree, sat on a thick branch, and ate some dried rations while waiting for the rain to stop.
In the distance, from the direction of the valley, came the ethereal sound of a qin, lending an air of mystery to the rainy scene.
An Jiu remembered that this was the direction of the Ethereal Villa’s hidden location.
Who could be playing the Qin?
While Baiyun Mountain had many scenic spots, this area was surrounded by dense forest. Surely no refined scholar would come to such a dangerous place for leisure!
As An Jiu pondered this, she saw a black-clad figure slowly emerge from the forest, moving like a puppet on strings.
She instinctively knew it was because of the qin music!
The hem of the black-clad person’s robe was embroidered with a white crane, likely one of the Crane-Controlling Army members sent to monitor their trial.
After the figure walked away, An Jiu quietly leaped down from the tree, donned her cloak, and used her spiritual power to conceal her presence as she followed the sound of the qin.
The fine rain fell silently, while footsteps through the grass made soft rustling sounds.
“Oh, there are two of them!” a clear, melodious girl’s voice rang out along with the qin music, causing An Jiu to falter. She wondered how anyone could have detected her, given her use of spiritual power to mask her presence and the considerable distance between them.
Moreover, that voice…
A broken hill nearby obscured the view ahead. An Jiu crept along the wall to get closer.
“The Crane-Controlling Army has sent quite a few people this time. It seems they’ve confirmed our background,” a male voice added.