“So it’s the Twin of the Lei Clan.” Mu Qingyang stroked his chin. “I’ve long heard of your reputation.”

“What’s about to happen might be even more interesting,” Lei Yunhe said, looking up. “I hope your side won’t disappoint me.”

With that, Lei Yunhe departed on his crane. Mu Qingyang smiled. “What an interesting fellow.” He then pressed several major acupuncture points on his body to stop the bleeding, before staggering into the forest.

Tang Linglu appeared at the cliff’s edge with five black-robed men but found no trace of Mu Qingyang.

“We saw him run here,” one black-robed man stepped forward, bending to touch the sandy soil. “Could he have jumped?” He glanced down, then stepped back—even looking down from such a height was terrifying.

“Impossible. He must have used some Mu family trick,” Tang Linglu shook his head. “Perhaps puppet strings to hang from the cliff and descend.”

“Impossible, it’s too high—no thread could be that long,” the investigating black-robed man disagreed.

Just then, another black-robed man landed behind them. “Chief, someone else has entered the mountain.”

“Who?” Tang Linglu asked.

“A young man carrying a paper umbrella,” the black-robed man reported.

“A paper umbrella.” Tang Linglu lightly adjusted his mask.

Su Muyu walked alone through the trees. The paper butterflies before him seemed to lose all vitality after entering the deep mountains, falling to the ground. He plucked a flower from nearby, its petals still bearing wet blood.

“The Umbrella Ghost of Dark River—never expected to meet you here,” Tang Linglu appeared behind him.

Su Muyu turned slightly. “Tang Linglu of the Tang Clan’s Five Champions.”

The wind gently lifted Tang Linglu’s sleeves, and two silver needles flew with it toward Su Muyu. Su Muyu turned, taking out his paper umbrella and lightly sweeping the needles to the ground. He spoke coldly: “Is this how the Tang Clan welcomes guests from afar?”

“Who would consider the Umbrella Ghost of Dark River a guest? They say you often appear on cold, rainy nights, like a soul-collecting ghost official, a wandering spirit,” Tang Linglu raised his head as six black-robed men landed in the tree branches behind him.

Su Muyu spoke gravely. “We came by invitation.”

“I didn’t issue any invitation, nor was I informed. Therefore, Brocade City does not welcome Dark River’s ghosts,” Tang Linglu shouted harshly. “Attack!”

The six black-robed men swept their long sleeves, sending King Yama’s talismans flying toward Su Muyu.

Su Muyu spun rapidly, opening his umbrella as the talismans grazed its surface. The others leaped down from the trees to surround him. Though they were from the Tang Clan, their martial arts were formidable, forcing Su Muyu to close his umbrella and continuously retreat.

Tang Linglu kept his hands within his sleeves, gripping a hidden weapon. He had heard many stories about the Umbrella Ghost and understood that although his six subordinates seemed to have the upper hand, the Umbrella Ghost could take their lives at any moment.

“Brother Linglu, I said I came by invitation. I’ll give you twenty moves to consider,” Su Muyu planted his paper umbrella on the ground, then bracing against its shaft, leaped up and kicked away all six black-robed men with one move. After landing, he drew an extremely thin, long sword from the umbrella handle, pointing it at Tang Linglu.

Tang Linglu’s expression darkened as he stared at the sword in silence.

One of the six black-robed men gripped a bone-piercing nail between his fingers and flung it at Su Muyu. The nail’s head bore an unnaturally red tint, clearly poisoned. With his first move, Su Muyu shattered the nail completely.

His second move deflected a sleeve arrow. Then came the third move, the fourth, all the way to the thirteenth. Su Muyu remained purely defensive, countering thirteen hidden weapons. From the fourteenth move onward, Su Muyu suddenly switched to offense, each sword strike targeting vital points. By the nineteenth move, all six black-robed men lay immobilized with varying wounds.

The twentieth move.

Tang Linglu jerked his head up as Su Muyu held his sword steady.

In the next instant, Tang Linglu raised his sleeve, a lotus flower blooming in his hand—but it stopped halfway as the fine rain sword halted three inches from his throat.

“Which do you think is faster—my blooming lotus or your sword?” Tang Linglu asked softly.

Su Muyu replied calmly: “Many have wanted to know that answer. But for all of them, knowing became meaningless.”

“Truly worthy of being Dark River’s finest sword in many years.” Applause sounded behind them as a man in a red robe leisurely approached, standing beside them. The man was extremely thin and tall, pale-faced with sunken eyes, looking like a consumption ghost.

“Tang Lingkui of the Tang Clan’s Five Champions,” Su Muyu said flatly.

Tang Lingkui coughed lightly. “I’m honored that Master Su knows my name.”

“I want to see Tang Linghuan,” Su Muyu said gravely.

“If you want to see him, that’s simple,” Tang Lingkui walked to Tang Linglu’s side, suddenly raising his hand to knock the lotus flower into the air. “Go below to meet him!” The lotus bloomed in midair, its petals shooting toward Su Muyu. Su Muyu quickly withdrew his sword and retreated, the blade dancing as he backed toward his umbrella. With one kick, he lifted it, resheathing the sword in its handle before spinning it rapidly to sweep away all the lotus petals.

Tang Lingkui’s eyes gleamed. “Impressive, impressive. To think that even this couldn’t harm Master Su in the slightest.”

After stopping, Su Muyu asked gravely: “Tang Linghuan—you killed him?”

Tang Lingkui coughed lightly. “What a sensitive question.”

“Brother, we can’t let him escape,” Tang Linglu whistled, and shadows began flitting through the trees toward them.

“Form the formation,” Tang Lingkui said slowly.

“Formation!” Tang Linglu called out.

The arriving black-robed men raised their hands, releasing black mist from the forest that began enveloping them.

“Master Su, please make yourself comfortable,” Tang Lingkui and Tang Linglu leaped back into the forest.

Su Muyu watched the black mist closing in around him and mused, “It seems the Tang Clan truly has changed hands.”