“What’s happening here?” Shao Yanping grabbed the Sword Society disciple who had just reported the news. The man’s face was deathly pale, “I don’t know… when I left, Young Hero Yu was just restless and agitated…” Someone beside them interjected with a soft, melodious voice, “Just now Young Hero Yu insisted on finding Young Master Tang. Master Puzhu and I were passing by the door when Young Hero Yu suddenly mistook Master Puzhu for Young Master Tang and demanded a life-or-death duel to avenge his father’s death.” The speaker was the stunningly beautiful woman in peach-colored robes, Xifang Tao.
Hearing this, Shao Yanping didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Puzhu and Tang Lici looked as different as heaven and earth—Yu Furen’s eyesight was truly poor, showing he had gone completely mad. “Nephew Yu, your father actually didn’t die in that explosion. Since your father isn’t dead, you needn’t blame Young Master Tang anymore. The person before you is Master Puzhu, a high monk from Shaolin Temple, who bears not the slightest resemblance to Young Master Tang. Look more carefully—he really isn’t Tang Lici.” He wasn’t unaware that Yu Furen was Yu Qifeng’s son. When Yu Furen first joined the Sword Society, he had secretly sent people to investigate Yu Furen’s background thoroughly. The reason Yu Furen held such a position in the Sword Society at such a young age was precisely because of this. He had deliberately sent Yu Furen to invite Tang Lici to the Sword Society, secretly observing Yu Furen’s reactions, which allowed him to witness that night’s murderous sword strike.
Despite Shao Yanping’s lengthy explanation, Yu Furen acted as if he hadn’t heard a single word. The Qingluo sword’s blade flickered with light, its tip trembling slightly as it wavered between several vital points on Puzhu’s chest. Because his sword tip trembled unsteadily, Puzhu couldn’t determine where he intended to strike. Though Yu Furen was young, his swordsmanship was extraordinary. Puzhu watched the sword coldly, his peaceful gaze carrying a hint of killing intent, as if once Yu Furen’s strike missed, he would deliver an extremely fierce counterattack. Shao Yanping felt a slight chill—judging by this stance, it would be difficult to end this peacefully. “Nephew Yu…” Before he could finish, Yu Furen’s long sword “Qingluo” darted forward, probing toward Master Puzhu’s chest.
This move “Asking Plum for Directions”—Shao Yanping had seen Yu Furen use this technique before. This sword thrust appeared real but was actually feint; the blade aimed for the chest but would sweep upward before making contact. If this move succeeded, the sword tip would pierce through the throat and exit through the brain—an extremely vicious and ruthless killing move, one of the few lethal techniques in Yu Furen’s swordsmanship. Using such a move upon first contact showed the intensity of his murderous intent toward the supposed “Tang Lici.” Puzhu pressed his palms together, seemingly intending to catch the sword tip between his palms. However, Yu Furen’s sword tip gleamed with azure light as it suddenly swept upward with a “whoosh,” striking directly at the throat. Puzhu raised his palms, perfectly aligning them toward the sword tip. Shao Yanping silently praised this excellent move—these pressed palms covered the direction of Yu Furen’s sword tip, showing that Puzhu had seen through the key point of “Asking Plum for Directions.” With his sword tip constrained, Yu Furen withdrew his sword with a “swish” and immediately launched a second strike, sending a gust of sword wind directly at Puzhu’s neck.
After watching several moves from the side, Shao Yanping knew Puzhu held more than a slight advantage and his life wasn’t in danger. Yu Furen’s frenzied attacks posed little threat to Puzhu; rather, having not rested or eaten for two days and nights, such mad fighting would surely disrupt his breathing within twenty or thirty moves, and continuing would seriously harm his own body. Shao Yanping could only worry secretly, feeling helpless. Once these two began fighting, if anyone tried to intervene, they would face simultaneous attacks from two masters—who in the world could withstand a combined full-force strike from Puzhu and Yu Furen? Xifang Tao, watching from the side, kept her gaze fixed on Puzhu, her lovely face completely serious without a trace of ease.
Sword light flashed and dark robes danced as the two fought inside the room. Despite Yu Furen wielding a long sword in such intense combat, he hadn’t damaged a single table or chair. Their advances, retreats, and turns were quick yet orderly, producing little noise. More and more spectators gathered, and though they knew these two absolutely shouldn’t be fighting, they couldn’t help cheering. Shao Yanping alternated between silently applauding and lamenting bitterly, truly at a loss for how to stop them.
Just as the crowd of onlookers grew larger and the battle reached its peak intensity, with a “creak,” someone pushed open the courtyard’s wooden gate and entered with measured steps. Shao Yanping’s gaze swept over—he saw the newcomer wearing a blue robe draped over his shoulders, silver hair slightly disheveled—it was Tang Lici! Before his exclamation could escape, Yu Furen’s sword wind suddenly changed direction, charging toward Tang Lici who hadn’t yet clearly assessed the situation. His body followed his sword, and in an instant, sword light swirled like snow with cold intent radiating in all directions. This strike was actually the Imperial Sword Technique! Puzhu’s expression changed as he spread his five fingers, about to grab for the sword. The Imperial Sword Technique! This strike held tremendous power—if it didn’t injure others, it would injure the wielder. Yu Furen hadn’t yet mastered it, and striking so suddenly could have dire consequences! Just as his five fingers swept out, someone gently tugged at his robes from behind. Puzhu hesitated slightly, and his hand immediately slowed. Yu Furen’s sword shot out like lightning, already sweeping toward the face. Puzhu turned to look—the person who had stopped him wore an expression of terror. It was Xifang Tao.
Tang Lici wore his blue robe draped over his shoulders, the garment sliding down slightly. His right hand held a white porcelain bowl containing some unknown substance. He had just stepped one foot inside the door when sword light suddenly reached his face. He heard a “whoosh” of sword song that was deafeningly loud, several strands of hair were suddenly severed, and cold intent swept past his face. Too rushed to react properly, he turned half his body and just managed to glance at Yu Furen. Everyone cried out in alarm, and with a soft “cha” sound, fresh blood splattered against the wall. The blade pierced through his chest, and Tang Lici staggered a step as Qingluo penetrated his body and embedded three inches into the wall!
“Ah…” Shao Yanping’s mouth fell open in extreme shock, frozen in place. For an instant, there was dead silence as everyone stared blankly at Yu Furen and Tang Lici. Yu Furen’s sword had actually found its mark… Though everyone privately thought that even if they had been fully alert and on guard, this sword would have been impossible to avoid, the fact that Tang Lici had been pierced through the chest by Yu Furen’s sword was truly hard to believe given his martial arts and intelligence.
Fresh blood trickled down the wall. Tang Lici’s blue robe fluttered slightly on his shoulders, sliding down halfway. He raised his right hand slightly, but the porcelain bowl in his hand didn’t fall—he still held it steadily. In the deathly silence, Yu Furen slowly raised his head, looking at Tang Lici through misty eyes. His hands slowly released Qingluo. Tang Lici’s lips curved slightly—in Yu Furen’s dazed vision, it appeared to be a smile. He staggered back three to five steps, staring blankly at Tang Lici whom he had pinned to the wall.
Fresh blood quickly soaked through Tang Lici’s snow-white undergarment. Shao Yanping suddenly awoke and cried out, “Tang… Young Master Tang…” Everyone surged forward, but Tang Lici stood straight, needing no support. With the blade in his chest, the slightest movement might worsen his injury. Shao Yanping extended a hand but dared not support him, only shouting, “Quickly, quickly, quickly—go fetch a physician!” Yu Furen staggered back beyond the crowd, unable to believe what he saw—he had actually killed Tang Lici! Then… everything just now was merely a mad fantasy—it shouldn’t be real…
Tang Lici extended his right hand forward, and Shao Yanping hurriedly took the porcelain bowl from him. He saw half a bowl of clear water containing a round, pale yellow pill with a soft texture, about the size of a walnut. Even before bringing it close, he could smell its elegant, subtle fragrance. This pill must be something important, or Tang Lici wouldn’t have held onto it. Shao Yanping’s mind stirred, “Is this healing medicine?” Tang Lici’s lips moved slightly as he shook his head. While others stood helplessly, he reached out to press several acupoints around his wound, then with a “swish,” he pulled Qingluo out with his other hand. Everyone cried out in unison—as the sword emerged, fresh blood gushed out wildly. Shao Yanping quickly set down the porcelain bowl and supported him, “What should we do? What should we do? Yu Furen, you’re truly… truly ridiculous…” Usually, only he told others “what to do,” but now that he was asking others “what to do,” everyone’s faces were pale as they looked at each other. If Tang Lici died, how would the grand situation in the martial world be handled? Liu Yan had been captured by Shen Langhun, Fu Cui wasn’t dead, Lady Hongchan had escaped, the antidote for the Crimson Ghost Nine Hearts Pill hadn’t been obtained—if Fengliu Shop revived, what could be done? Moreover, Tang Lici was the adoptive son of the National Uncle. Once the National Uncle’s estate demanded accountability, how would Shanfeng Hall answer?
“Close the courtyard gates…” Tang Lici coughed twice and said in a low voice, “Record the names of everyone present… register them… cough…” Shao Yanping’s chaotic mind suddenly cleared, “Yes, yes, bring paper and brush. Everyone leave their names. Today’s events absolutely must not leak out. If word spreads, the traitor in Shanfeng Hall is among us.” Immediately someone brought paper and brush, and amid the chaos, someone directed the formation of lines to record names one by one. Tang Lici’s lips curved slightly. Yu Furen stared at him unblinkingly, his confused mind still feeling that expression was neither quite a smile nor not a smile. What was he smiling about? Was he really smiling? Or… was it just habit? Looking closely, his mind gradually cleared, and he noticed that Tang Lici was clearly wounded in the chest yet pressed his hand to his abdomen—why was that?
While everyone was recording their names, Shao Yanping lifted Tang Lici horizontally and rushed toward his room. Puzhu watched the porcelain bowl on the ground, picked it up, and followed with large strides.
Tang Lici’s room remained quiet except for occasional infant laughter. Shao Yanping burst in carrying the bloodied man, seeing a woman in blue robes sitting sideways on the bed with Fengfeng climbing on her, giggling delightfully. When Shao Yanping suddenly carried in the blood-covered Tang Lici, the woman cried out in alarm, staggering down from the bed. Fengfeng’s mouth turned down, her laughing eyes becoming tearful as she burst into loud wails. Shao Yanping, frantic with worry, had no time to consider the feelings of those in the room. He hurriedly placed Tang Lici on the bed and tore open his chest garments, revealing the wound from Qingluo. The Qingluo sword was thin, so the wound from its passage wasn’t large. After the initial gush of blood, it stopped flowing. Shao Yanping applied wound medicine to Tang Lici, his heart in turmoil, uncertain whether such a severe injury could be healed. Puzhu then entered the room and handed the white porcelain bowl to the blue-clothed woman. Xifang Tao stood in the doorway, saying gently, “This porcelain bowl is called ‘Cleansing Filth.’ Any clear water poured into it becomes one of the world’s rarest pure, spotless waters, excellent for brewing tea or wine, and equally fine for taking medicine. The yellow pill in the bowl looks very much like Shaolin’s Great Restoration Pill, a superior medicine for cultivating vitality and strengthening the foundation. Miss should take it now—don’t waste Young Master Tang’s kind intentions.” For this ordinary white porcelain bowl and single pill, Xifang Tao could actually perceive their wonderful properties, showing truly exceptional insight.
Hearing it was Shaolin’s Great Restoration Pill, Shao Yanping suddenly remembered, “Is there more of this medicine?” Xifang Tao slowly shook her head, “Shaolin’s Great Restoration Pill regulates qi and nourishes rest—it’s a gentle medicine, mostly used for treating internal injuries. Young Master Tang’s chest wound is an external injury requiring superior external wound medicine.” The blue-clothed woman accepted the porcelain bowl, a trace of sorrow appearing in her eyes, “How… how did he become so severely injured?” After the initial shock, she no longer panicked. Having asked this question, she had already regained her composure. Shao Yanping smiled bitterly, “This… it was all a misunderstanding. Oh yes, Master Puzhu, Miss Tao, please help me watch over Nephew Yu. His poison has just been partially cured, and having caused such a disaster, his heart must be troubled. Please counsel him on my behalf.” Puzhu pressed his palms together in salute and walked away slowly with Xifang Tao.