【Young men of the Five Mausoleums in the Golden Market’s east,
Silver saddles, white horses riding through the spring breeze.
Where do they go when fallen blossoms are trampled underfoot?
Laughing, they enter the foreign-girl tavern.】
When one speaks of foreign-girl taverns, the first thought is naturally of the Poet Immortal Li Bai’s “Song of a Young Gallant” — just four brief lines, yet they conjure the splendor and passion of that age so vividly that the heart aches with longing.
But Lin Sui’an at this moment could not manage to smile at all.
The foreign-girl tavern was not large. In the center stood a circular raised stage about half a meter high, surrounded by vividly colored Persian carpets, on which patrons lounged in casual postures, each with a low table before them bearing oddly-shaped silver wine vessels, drinking and talking loudly. Musicians sat around the stage, cradling Qiuci-style pipa lutes sideways, plucking konghou harps, and beating skin drums, playing pieces with a driving, infectious rhythm. Foreign girls with slender waists spun like the wind to the music, their red gauze skirts and flowing sashes becoming a whirling storm, drawing wave after wave of cheers.
It was genuinely exotic in atmosphere, but — Lin Sui’an rubbed her temples — the smell in here was really, truly, terribly pungent.
The carpets were vivid enough from a distance, but up close one could clearly see the pile thick with scattered debris, giving off a strange odor. Some patrons wore shoes; others had removed theirs. The reek of sweaty feet mingled with the musty carpet smell and the heavy perfume on the foreign girls, combining into an indescribable compound — as if, to make a comparison, the body odor on a metro car had been blended with chives-stuffed pastry and high-end perfume. The result was thoroughly stomach-turning.
To have written poetry that endured a thousand years in surroundings like this — clearly, the Poet Immortal was not your ordinary sort of person, Lin Sui’an reflected.
Despite being called a “foreign-girl tavern,” the proprietor was a native of the Tang realm — dressed in foreign-style clothing and a felt hat, doing his best to match the establishment’s overall aesthetic. When he caught sight of Mu Zhong and Zhu Dachang, his face split into a grin wide enough to crack. He looked at Lin Sui’an next. “And what would this young lady like to drink?”
His tone was as natural as a modern server asking “what would you like to order?” — apparently it was perfectly ordinary for women to patronize taverns in this world.
Mu Zhong produced Su Chengxian’s portrait. “Have you seen this person today?”
The proprietor stared at the portrait, his smile gradually fading. He lowered his voice. “Sixth Leader is looking for this person…?”
Mu Zhong: “Don’t ask unnecessary questions.”
“Right, right,” the proprietor nodded and bowed, “To be honest, this person spent last night right here.”
Zhu Dachang: “What?!”
Lin Sui’an was equally stunned. If Su Chengxian had spent the night at the foreign-girl tavern, he had a solid alibi — which would mean she was back to being the prime suspect.
“Is this person still here?” Mu Zhong asked.
“He is, he is,” the proprietor hurried ahead to lead the way. “This person drank too much last night and is sleeping it off in one of the foreign girls’ rooms. He hasn’t woken yet. He’s in the back courtyard — please, Sixth Leader, follow me.”
Through the main hall and out a low crooked doorway was the back courtyard. All around it rose a ring of crooked little timber buildings — some two stories, some three, some one and a half — their rooms staggered at different heights, with wooden staircases winding up between them in a configuration that gave the impression of a maze.
“Sixth Leader, please wait a moment. I’ll send someone down.” The proprietor hiked up his long robe and went trotting up a short flight of steps, ducked through a small door, and slammed it behind him.
The instant it shut, every hair on Lin Sui’an’s back stood on end. Without warning, her body’s alert system activated: danger here!
Almost simultaneously, Mu Zhong’s expression changed drastically. He wheeled and ran. “Something’s wrong — go!”
Before he’d finished speaking, there came several thunderous crashes as multiple wooden doors above were blown apart by billowing smoke. Over a dozen masked figures leapt down through the smoke and debris, sword-gleam concealed within the haze, cold and predatory.
Lin Sui’an reacted on pure reflex, drawing Qian Jing from her waist. She stepped back half a pace, then her whole body shot into the smoke. Her mind had not yet worked out what to do, but her body had already chosen its direction. Her wrist spun the blade in a flourish, her arm swept back and then forward — a bright clang rang out twice as Qian Jing struck other weapons. The enemies were very close, and there was more than one. Lin Sui’an abruptly sank her waist and bent low; Qian Jing turned in her grip and she reversed the hold, pressing the blade flat to the ground, slashing in a wide arc at ankle height. The blade-wind tore open several rifts in the smoke, and through the gaps she glimpsed a number of feet. Where the blade passed, blood sprayed, followed immediately by several screams and the sound of bodies hitting the ground.
As the smoke thinned and visibility returned, Lin Sui’an saw four masked figures lying around her, blood jetting from their ankles as they writhed with suppressed cries.
A phrase suddenly surfaced in her mind: 【In substitute strikes, spare the living first.】
What was that?
In the moment Lin Sui’an’s attention flickered, two more masked figures came at her. This time with no smoke to obscure them, she could see clearly: both were powerfully built men dressed in foreign-style clothing, but the eyes above their face-wrappings were black — these were Tang men, not foreigners.
Two blades carrying a bloodthirsty gust swept in simultaneously toward Lin Sui’an’s neck from left and right, forming a great pair of scissors in the air. Their speed was extraordinary; the blades were already nearly at her throat. Lin Sui’an’s body arched backward in an impossible curve, bending to an inconceivable angle, barely clearing both edges. She planted one hand on the ground and pushed, sending her whole body rebounding upright. The two masked figures had just exhausted their momentum; Qian Jing flashed forward and twisted — the right-hand figure’s wrist erupted in a gush of blood, and he collapsed screaming. Lin Sui’an reversed the blade and slashed again, Qian Jing’s green edge cutting a frigid arc of wind.
【The blade cuts again like soup.】
Another string of characters burst into her mind without warning. Lin Sui’an startled; her wrist twitched, and the blade’s edge rose one fraction — yet the momentum could not be stopped, and the slash still drove obliquely downward toward the left-hand masked figure’s abdomen.
“Chsh—” Blood sprayed across half of Lin Sui’an’s body and face. The masked figure crumpled, clutching his belly and screaming.
Lin Sui’an went rigid. Had she not just raised the edge by that fraction, that single stroke would have split the man in two on the spot.
One centimeter. She had nearly killed someone.
Blood ran from her forehead over her lashes, staining half her vision crimson and the other half a stark white. Lin Sui’an’s heart hammered; the hand gripping Qian Jing could not stop shaking. Then Zhu Dachang’s desperate screams reached her ears.
“Ahhhh! Sir Mu, save me! Lin Niangzi, save me!”
Zhu Dachang was being chased and hacked at by two masked figures, his escape a rolling, stumbling, hair’s-breadth affair. The two constables who had been beside him were locked in hand-to-hand combat with other masked figures and couldn’t spare him a glance. Mu Zhong’s situation was no better — holding off five masked figures alone, fighting for his life with every step. Everyone was outnumbered, teetering on the edge of death.
She had to save them!
Lin Sui’an clenched the blade hilt and launched herself forward on the tip of her foot. The terror of nearly killing someone moments ago transformed into a strange, shuddering thrill. It felt as if a hundred blades were humming in her mind, reverberating through her viscera. Wind pierced her ears and then vanished; the scene before her turned eerily slow, and even took on a bizarre monochrome tinge.
Qian Jing flew in her hand, cutting down the blades in her path; blood sprayed like black lotuses blooming. She leapt into the air, and the green blade swept like a thin leaf skimming across a rippling lake, scattered droplets bursting into bloom.
Zhu Dachang collapsed in a pool of blood, shaking all over. The two constables had gone pale. Mu Zhong stared, aghast.
None of them could believe what they were seeing. In the space of a heartbeat, the young woman had moved through the carnage, light following the blade, blood blossoming at every stroke, and as the masked figures crashed down, a torrent of crimson rain fell from above. Half-drenched in blood, her eyes deep and still, she had the look of a being possessed by some god or demon.
Then, suddenly, something shifted in the woman’s gaze, and the divine, demonic killing-intent dissolved at once.
The onlookers swallowed, suddenly aware that they were drenched in cold sweat — yet what they didn’t know was that the “god” before them, Lin Sui’an herself, was equally terrified.
For a moment she felt as if she had lost consciousness — yet also as if she hadn’t. She had memories; she knew what she’d done. Only her body, limbs, and muscles seemed to have been occupied by something else, and it was only after all her opponents were defeated that she wrested back control.
The nauseating smell of blood flooded her nose. The colors in her vision shifted from black-and-white back to vivid red. Lin Sui’an stared blankly at the masked figures on the ground. Sensation slowly returned to her body; their moans reached her ears one by one — they were moaning, all of them still alive. Lin Sui’an trembled as she sheathed Qian Jing, staring at her own palms as the blood dripped along the creases of her hands.
The shuddering thrill of having attacked people moments ago still lingered in her body. Lin Sui’an couldn’t even tell whether the trembling was excitement or fear.
This body of hers… seemed to have… a bloodlust.
*
A quarter-hour later, Lin Sui’an was met by the people of the Mu merchant convoy’s local branch — sharp young men of seventeen or eighteen, all in matching ginger-yellow robes and wearing the same style of headband as Mu Zhong, who took control of the foreign-girl tavern with impressive efficiency. A certain County Lieutenant Zhu had no chance to get a word in edgewise, which amply demonstrated how thoroughly the Mu merchant convoy dominated the Eastern Market.
Before long, a significant cache of smuggled goods was discovered in the upper floor of the foreign-girl tavern’s back courtyard. As for what exactly the contraband was, Lin Sui’an was not privy — she could only piece together the gist from fragments of conversation between Mu Zhong and his men. The foreign-girl tavern served as a hidden base for a smuggling operation, staffed with desperate fugitives. Spotting Mu Zhong’s sudden arrival, they’d assumed the base was blown and decided to strike. It had to be said the tavern proprietor had some ability — the peculiar timber building concealed multiple hidden passages, like a miniature labyrinth, and the several search teams sent in had yet to find the true exit. The proprietor himself had long since vanished.
Worse still, the foreign girls in the tavern said they had never seen Su Chengxian. The proprietor’s claim had been nothing more than a ruse to lure Mu Zhong into a trap.
“Thanks to Lin Niangzi’s intervention, I might truly have met a grim end this time.” Mu Zhong expressed his sincere gratitude to Lin Sui’an, then turned to bow to Zhu Dachang. “County Lieutenant Zhu, I’m afraid the Mu merchant convoy brought this trouble upon you.”
“A minor skirmish — what big storm hasn’t this Zhu weathered? No matter, no matter.” Zhu Dachang said this while his legs were still visibly shaking. Behind him, Li Nili looked away in pained embarrassment.
Mu Zhong gave a dry cough and looked at Lin Sui’an. “Lin Niangzi’s swordsmanship is exceptionally fierce — rare in the martial world. May I ask who your teacher was?”
Lin Sui’an: “…”
How would she know where that wretched swordsmanship came from? She’d initially thought receiving a full set of martial skills out of thin air was extraordinary good luck, but looking at it now, this blade style had an unsettling quality to it. Could it be some kind of sinister technique, like a certain infamous forbidden manual?
Seeing that Lin Sui’an did not answer, Mu Zhong quickly clarified. “Please don’t misunderstand, Lin Niangzi — I have no designs on your school’s secret arts. It’s simply that I’ve traded and traveled for many years and have never encountered a blade style like yours. Pure curiosity. I, Mu Zhong, owe you my life. From here on, Lin Niangzi’s business is my business.”
Never seen anything like this blade style? Lin Sui’an thought — could it be that the original owner’s family were some kind of reclusive masters? That only made them seem less like respectable people.
“Right, right. Lin Niangzi, rest assured — you saved my life, and I, Zhu, will certainly catch the real killer and restore your innocence.” Zhu Dachang added. “Since Su Chengxian isn’t in the Eastern Market, he must be hiding somewhere in the city. As long as we search house by house, we’ll find a lead!”
Lin Sui’an didn’t think it would be that simple. If the tavern proprietor could disappear without a trace, it meant this Nanpu County was not an airtight place. There was no guarantee Su Chengxian hadn’t found some crooked path out…
“Sixth Leader, we found a hidden passage exit!” A young man ran over. “The exit leads into an underground drainage channel. Men who can swim have already been sent in to explore.”
“Excellent!” Mu Zhong was delighted. “Tell the men to be careful.” He turned to Zhu Dachang, “County Lieutenant Zhu, do you have a map of Nanpu County’s underground water channels?”
Zhu Dachang seemed to freeze, staring blankly at Mu Zhong for a long moment, then suddenly bellowed, “The wastewater channels! The wastewater channels run directly into the Xichun River encircling the city!”
That wouldn’t that be the perfect escape route?!
Lin Sui’an: “Where are the exits?!”
“The city has seven wastewater channels in total, with six outlets. The two largest channels run east-west under Liren Street and West Road Street. The other three run north-south, and they all converge at…” Zhu Dachang clasped his head and paced in circles. “It’s autumn now, so the water level in the Xichun River is lower, which means the flow should run north to south, west to east…”
“Stop rambling!” Mu Zhong impatiently rose to his feet. “I’ll go look myself!”
“Caught him! He’s caught!” A commotion broke out in the back courtyard. “The tavern owner has been caught!”
Four or five young men came in carrying a thoroughly soaked figure — foreign-style clothes, felt hat. Sure enough, it was the proprietor who had escaped, his face an iron-gray color, already without breath.
“There’s another one! Drag him out!” In the clamor, a second body was brought forward. This one was in a far worse state than the tavern owner — the skin on the left side of the face had peeled back, curling up like a strip of pig hide being flayed, with foul-smelling liquid seeping from beneath. The right half of the face still retained its complete features.
Zhu Dachang let out a retch. Mu Zhong covered his nose.
Lin Sui’an’s pupils contracted sharply.
The body was Su Chengxian.