The disciples of Taichu Temple bustled about, preparing the altar, offerings, tables, chairs, and refreshments for Zhengyuan Hall. Today, they were caught between sorrow and excitement. In just a few months, they had lost two leaders and faced unfavorable rumors, ranking them last among the six sects. However, for the first time in two centuries, a Demonic Cult leader would renounce his powers within Taichu Temple—an event worthy of historical record.
Cai Zhao rose early, dressing unhurriedly. Before leaving, she tucked the blanket around Fan Xing, who slept in the outer room. She hadn’t gone far when she encountered Ding Zhuo leading a patrol of disciples. He asked, “Where’s Fifth Junior Brother? Didn’t Elder Li ask him to accompany you?”
Cai Zhao replied calmly, “Fifth Senior Brother escorted me to pay respects to Hero Chang at Changwu Fort yesterday. He caught a chill on the mountain and was exhausted. I told him to rest longer.”
Ding Zhuo frowned. “Martial artists shouldn’t be so delicate. Fifth Junior Brother is too lax in his training. Even as a medical practitioner, he shouldn’t be so useless. Well, let him sleep. Where are you headed, Junior Sister?”
“I’m going to see my parents,” Cai Zhao answered.
Ding Zhuo dutifully escorted Cai Zhao to her parents’ residence before departing.
“Where’s Mother?” Cai Zhao asked after greeting her father, Cai Pingchun, who sat alone in the outer room.
Cai Pingchun smiled indulgently. “You know your mother. If she doesn’t spend half the morning on her appearance, she’ll be out of sorts all day.”
“It’s all Aunt’s fault,” Cai Zhao remarked while pouring hot tea. “Even in dire situations, Aunt would gently tell Mother to apply her rouge carefully for a better look.” She handed the cup to her father, saying, “Father, your morning tea.”
Cai Pingchun sipped the tea, observing his daughter gazing out the window. Slender and quiet, he wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how to begin.
He felt ashamed. When Cai Zhao was born, they were preoccupied with defending Luoying Valley rather than caring for her. One day, he was surprised to see a small, adorable girl in the courtyard—his daughter Zhao Zhao.
Zhao Zhao had always been optimistic. When other children teased her about her absent parents, she’d ask if they had an aunt who was the best in the world. When her younger brother received more attention, she’d pity him for missing out on Cai Pingxu’s teachings. Even when betrothed to Zhou Yuqi, she found reasons to be content.
Cai Pingchun appreciated his sister for raising such a strong-minded daughter but felt guilty for years of neglect. Hesitantly, he said, “Zhao Zhao… if you’re worried about that man, after the execution, I’ll find a way to imprison him comfortably in Luoying Valley.”
Noticing his daughter staring blankly at his teacup, he called, “Zhao Zhao?”
She seemed to snap out of her daze. “Oh… thank you, Father.”
Soon after, Ning Xiaofeng emerged, finally dressed impeccably.
“A hot potato, indeed,” Song Shijun muttered, walking ahead.
Pang Xiongxin chuckled behind him. “Master, stop worrying. Hasn’t the Demonic Cult fallen under Lü Fengchun’s control? That Mu boy is no longer a problem.”
Song Shijun’s face creased with concern. “Based on my decades of experience fighting the Demonic Cult, something feels amiss.”
“Come off it, Master,” Pang Xiongxin scoffed. “You enjoyed life when the old master was around and was carefree when your wife was alive. Which other sect leader had it as good as you? Where are these decades of hardship you speak of?”
Song Shijun retorted, “I was playing dumb! My face may have been carefree, but my heart remembered everything! Mark my words, without a major event, Zhao Zhao won’t easily give up on that Mu fellow.”
Pang Xiongxin hesitated. “Master, do you… not mind Miss Cai’s relationship with Mu?”
“Young love is nothing serious,” Song Shijun waved dismissively. “I’m an open-minded person. What matters in a marriage is the heart.” The old libertine earnestly pointed to his chest.
Pang Xiongxin blinked. “Master, are you saying that because you’ve frequented too many brothels, you have no right to judge others…”
“You little rascal, asking for a beating!” Song Shijun laughed.
Just then, Yang He’ying caught up, lowering his voice as they approached Zhengyuan Hall. “Brother Song, don’t forget our discussion last night. If you agree to imprison Mu Qing’an at Siqimen, Yang Ding will follow your lead in the future!” He hurried ahead as people gathered around.
Pang Xiongxin snorted disdainfully.
Song Yuzi stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Yang He’ying… spoiled by his old man. Not only is he incapable, but he’s also overly ambitious. Hmph, if there were truly no risks, why wouldn’t I insist on imprisoning him at Guangtianmen?”
“By the way,” he turned, “where’s Yuzi?”
Pang Xiongxin whispered, “The Third Young Master said he wanted to help that Mu fellow bathe and change, so he could face his punishment with dignity.”
Song Yuzi nodded approvingly. “That’s my son—brave yet kind-hearted.” Then he worried, “Maozi isn’t like that. He’s too fierce, offending people left and right. Ai…”
As they spoke, they entered Zhengyuan Hall with several Guangtianmen disciples.
Zhou Zhichen walked slowly forward but was stopped by Cai San.
Ning Xiaofeng, noticing his furrowed brow and haggard appearance, said apologetically, “Brother Zhou, don’t take Sister Pingxu’s words to heart. You hold a special place in her mind.”
“I know,” Zhou Zhichen smiled bitterly.
Cai Zhao added softly, “Uncle Zhou, Aunt often told me about her childhood at Peiqiong Manor, how you taught her martial arts and writing… She remembers every word, every move.”
Zhou Zhichen’s thoughts drifted melancholically with the girl’s words.
Some memories become more painful in retrospect.
Years ago, when he returned from his maternal grandfather’s banquet, his father introduced a small, frail girl as his fiancée. Orphaned with only a young brother, the old manor master asked his son to care for the siblings.
The young man solemnly agreed.
Despite her tragic background, the young girl never pitied herself. Instead, she was free-spirited and optimistic—secretly helping struggling clan members, guiding junior disciples, treating everyone equally regardless of skill, and insisting that integrity was the foundation of character.
Except for the manor mistress’s disapproval of her future daughter-in-law, most of the Zhou clan liked her.
Back then, the young man didn’t feel deep affection for the girl. He saw her as a sister, family, and his responsibility to protect.
He knew his fiancée had some issues with his mother and cousin, but he thought these were minor problems. As a junior and future sister-in-law, he believed she should be more open-minded and tolerant.
When his fiancée secretly left Peiqiong Manor to make a name for herself, he thought the temporary separation was good, avoiding further family conflicts.
Later, when she approached him about breaking off the engagement, he thought she was just being capricious and smiled it away.
But after many such discussions, he sensed something was amiss. He guessed she might have met someone outside.
He didn’t ask, believing she would eventually come to her senses.
However, that day never came.
When his fiancée lay on her deathbed, begging him to marry and have children, he realized he had lost her long ago. To ease her guilt, he finally heeded her words.
Years later, Zhou Zhichen thought he had gradually forgotten his initial grief. He never expected the old secret to be so abruptly exposed.
The bright red, gold-stamped marriage certificate was like a splash of vivid blood, shocking to the eye. The pearl-adorned jade hairpin felt like a cold, merciless sword piercing his heart.
He remembered once seeing his fiancée admiring that pearl-adorned jade hairpin by lamplight. Her face had glowed with joy, her gaze tender and loving.
Now he realized he wasn’t as magnanimous and unaffected as he appeared. He deeply envied the unknown Mu Zhengyang, wishing he could tear him apart.
It turned out he had always loved his fiancée—not as a sister or a responsibility, but as a man loves a woman. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have repeatedly refused her requests to break the engagement, pretending not to notice the changes in her.
He had loved her all along but didn’t realize it. By the time he did, it was too late.
As Cai San continued to offer comforting words, Zhou Zhichen shook his head, saying nothing, and entered Zhengyuan Hall.
Qi Yunke and Li Wenxun had arrived early and were conversing.
Li Wenxun reported, “Master, all is normal in the temple. Patrols report that apart from Ding Zhuo practicing swordplay in the courtyard at night and Fan Xing sneaking to the outer kitchen, no one else stirred.”
Qi Yunke smiled wryly. “After today, let Xing go to town for a good meal. He’s from a wealthy family, never used to such meager fare. Though, if the inner kitchen’s skills are mediocre, how much better can the outer one be?”
Li Wenxun added, “Oh, and Lingbo and Dai Fengchi were talking behind the rockery. They weren’t out at midnight but chatted from dinner until late.”
Qi Yunke: ??!
Li Wenxun continued, “You’re probably wondering what they could talk about for so long. According to passing disciples, they started by badmouthing Zhao Zhao and speculating about her relationship with Mu Qing’an, using some unsavory language. They should be reprimanded for that.”
Qi Yunke: ?!!
“Then they began criticizing Yuzi, belittling his martial arts, character, and talents, concluding that Dai Fengchi was far superior. Towards the end of the hour, they discussed Mu Qing’an’s fate, gleefully planning how to humiliate him after his imprisonment at Wanshui Qianshan Cliff.”
Qi Yunke: !!!
“When the third watch bell rang, they finished fantasizing about their future and finally headed back. On their way, they also mentioned…”
“Enough,” Qi Yunke covered his face. “Elder Brother Li, please stop.”
At the fifth watch, the five sect leaders, Li Yuanmin, and each sect’s top disciples gathered in Zhengyuan Hall.
Cai Zhao stood behind her parents, watching Song Yuzi direct two disciples to bring in Mu Qing’an.
He was bound in iron chains and shackles, their clanking echoing with each step. He wore Song Yuzi’s new clothes, which fit well due to their similar build. However, blood seeped through the white collar, indicating reopened wounds, as if he had walked through a thorny passage.
Due to his severe injuries and the heavy chains, Mu Qing’an struggled to stand. Song Yuzi had to provide a chair for him.
Mu Qing’an looked up, smiling at Cai Zhao despite his deathly pale complexion. Turning to face the others, his expression became blank. His natural beauty, coupled with this detached coldness, made him stand out even more.
Song Shijun couldn’t help but mutter, “A true master.”
Pang Xiongxin leaned in and whispered, “Master, if you had his looks back then, even if you couldn’t beat Cai Pingxu in martial arts, you might have won the title of Number One Young Master.”
“Shut up!” Song Shijun nearly choked with anger. If not for the formal setting, he would have thrashed his long-time disciple, feeling his efforts to educate him in worldly matters had been wasted.
Standing by the entrance, Li Yuanmin asked puzzledly, “Where are Chen Qing, Zhang He, and Si Tu Ancheng? Why aren’t they here yet?”
A disciple bowed and replied, “Elder Brother, this morning, those seven or eight disciples suddenly fell ill with diarrhea. They’re resting in their rooms now.”
Li Yuanmin tensed. “Could it be poison?”
“I don’t think so,” the disciple scratched his head. “If it were poison, it should have targeted us senior disciples. Why poison a few newcomers? Besides, what’s the use of poisoning just seven or eight people? They share a room, so I guess they might have eaten something bad.”
Relieved, Li Yuanmin instructed the remaining disciples to guard outside and led his four senior disciples inside.
Qi Yunke looked around. Except for his daughter and disciple Dai Fengchi, who might still be asleep after last night’s gossip session, everyone else had arrived.
He cleared his throat. “The Demonic Cult has plagued the world for two centuries. Fortunately, the righteous martial arts world has maintained peace despite numerous dangers. Thanks to the Three Pure Ones’ blessings and the spirit of the Northern Chen Ancestor, we unworthy disciples captured the Demonic Cult Leader Mu Qing’an days ago. Though he deserves death, his evil deeds are not extensive. As disciples of Northern Chen, we show mercy. We’ve decided to destroy his dantian and meridians! Cult Leader Mu, you’ll spend your days peacefully within our Northern Chen Six Sects. What say you?”
Mu Qing’an replied, “I disagree.”
Qi Yunke asked gently, “Then what do you propose?”
Mu Qing’an: “Remove these chains and let me go.”
Everyone: …
Yang He’ying, long displeased with Mu Qing’an’s central position, shouted, “Mu, stand up when you speak!”
Song Yuzi frowned. “His injuries are too severe. He can’t stand.”
Yang He’ying sneered, “Then let him kneel!”
Song Yuzi stepped forward. “How can the Yang Sect be so uncouth!”
“Alright, alright,” Song Shijun quickly intervened. “Say no more. Sect Leader Qi is in charge here. No one else should interfere.”
Remembering he needed help later, Yang He’ying suppressed his anger and sat down. Pang Xiongxin promptly pulled Song Yuzi back to the Guangtian Gate’s seats.
Qi Yunke stroked his chin and announced, “Enough, everyone. Calm down. Elder Brother Li, bring out the needles.”
Li Wenxun bowed and instructed the disciples to bring the items.
Song Yuzi grumbled, “Father always taught us to be proactive and strive to be heard. Why have we been so passive these days, not even allowed to speak?”
“My dear boy, it’s for your good,” Song Shijun lowered his voice. “Relationships require finesse. If you protect Mu Qing’an too openly now, how will you respond if Zhao Zhao asks for your help later? This way, if she does, you can reluctantly agree, and she’ll be grateful. Besides…”
“Besides what?” Song Yuzi bit his lip slightly.
Song Shijun glanced at Cai San across from them and whispered, “I feel Zhao Zhao’s reaction isn’t quite right.”
“How so?” Pang Xiongxin asked curiously.
“This child, whether she takes after her aunt or Ning Xiaofeng, shouldn’t give up so easily. Her love is about to be crippled, yet she hasn’t fiercely resisted or cried and cursed us. She’s too obedient. It’s odd,” Song Shijun explained.
Pang Xiongxin interjected, “Perhaps Miss Cai takes after Cai Gu?”
“Then she wouldn’t have gotten involved with Mu in the first place!” Song Shijun retorted. “Ah if only Zhao Zhao were more like her father, Cai Pingchun—steady, restrained, and level-headed.”
Song Yuzi frowned. “Zhao Zhao is herself, not like anyone else.”
At this moment, Li Wenxun’s disciple brought forward a tray with over a dozen gleaming gold needles. Each was about a palm’s length and as thick as a grain of rice, with coiled, fierce chiwen at the ends. The mere thought of these thick, long needles piercing the body was chilling.
Destroying one’s dantian and meridians isn’t as simple as clashing inner forces. Unless there’s a vast difference in skill, the actual process requires first using gold needles to immobilize the major acupoints, preventing the meridians and dantian from resisting. Then, overwhelming inner force is injected to destroy the dantian and meridians.
Most martial arts sects only use such instruments when dealing with traitorous disciples whose crimes don’t warrant death.
Of course, Li Wenxun didn’t carry a set of needles with him; this set was borrowed from Taichu Temple.
Li Yuanmin snorted disapprovingly. Li Wenxun glared at him—before use, he had Fan Xing carefully examine the needles, indeed finding them coated with a potent poison.
“Master, please,” Li Wenxun presented the tray.
Qi Yunke stood, picked up the first gold needle, and walked towards Mu Qing’an—the hall fell silent.
“Wait,” a girl’s voice rang out. “Master, please stop.”
All eyes turned to the source—it was indeed Cai Zhao.
Song Shijun was particularly excited—he knew it, he knew the affair couldn’t end so easily!
“Zhao Zhao!” Ning Xiaofeng stood up to stop her daughter. “The decision is made. Don’t cause trouble.”
Cai Zhao knelt formally before Qi Yunke, pleading, “Master, I beg you, don’t do this!”
Qi Yunke, exasperated, exclaimed, “You fool! This is the best way to save his life!”
Cai Zhao pleaded earnestly, “No, Master. I know him. Destroying his dan yuan meridians would be worse than death for him.”
“Zhaozha!” Ning Xiaofeng called out urgently.
Mu Qingyan, who had just entered the hall, was visibly moved. His face tightened as he uttered, “Zhaozha…”
Cai Zhao turned to him with a smile. “Don’t worry. There’s always a solution—and this time, I won’t deceive you.”
Mu Qingyan froze momentarily. These words seemed familiar as if he had heard them before. Then he remembered—she had said something similar in the Hanhai Mountains, just before she was about to sever ties with him.
In the Zhengyuan Hall, the crowd displayed a range of emotions: anxiety, worry, disdain, contempt, and indifference.
“Unacceptable!” Qi Yunke’s face turned ashen. “If we don’t cripple him, we risk future complications. Mu isn’t a weakling like Nie Zhe. Once he regains his strength, he’ll become a significant threat to the Six Sects of Beichen!”
“Master, are you truly unwilling?” Cai Zhao pleaded once more.
Qi Yunke hardened his heart. “No!”
Cai Zhao looked up, her expression desolate. “Master, I won’t stand by and watch him be tortured and left a cripple…”
As she spoke, she revealed a dagger in her hand. Before anyone could react, she plunged it deep into her abdomen, her body crumpling in pain.
Qi Yunke’s heart lurched. With a cry of dismay, he rushed to support his small disciple who had collapsed at his feet.
Li Wenxun, standing closest to Qi Yunke’s seat, darted forward. Song Shijun and Zhou Zhizhen, seated further away, followed suit. Ning Xiaofeng, who should have been the most anxious, hesitated for a moment, finding the dagger oddly familiar—as if her daughter had played with it before.
Before she could speak, her husband had already rushed to check on their daughter.
“Foolish child, why couldn’t you just talk things through…” Qi Yunke had barely uttered these words when suddenly, with lightning speed, Cai Zhao thrust both palms against his lower abdomen.
This unexpected turn of events stunned everyone in the great hall. Despite Qi Yunke’s profound skills, he was caught off guard. He had initially believed Cai Zhao was attempting suicide, which had thrown him into emotional turmoil. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the little girl he had raised would attack him.
As his qi and blood surged chaotically, he felt a sharp pain in his dantian. Cai Zhao’s strike was an improved version of the Luoying Valley’s internal force transmission technique, taught by Cai Pingsu. The force was robust and swift, with power following immediately upon contact.
Qi Yunke looked down in confusion and saw the fallen dagger on the ground, equipped with a common trick spring used by street performers—Cai Zhao’s suicide attempt had been a ruse.
He staggered back two steps before collapsing into his chair, violently coughing up blood.
“Sect Leader!” Li Wenxun shouted fiercely. Being the quickest to react, he leaped high into the air, swinging his palm towards Cai Zhao.
Unexpectedly, Cai Zhao reached into her waist pouch and pulled out something. Accompanied by an incredibly strong and peculiar odor, her ten fingers were suddenly holding shiny objects, which she flung in all directions using the technique of willow leaf darts.
The air was filled with hissing sounds as green flashes of fine needles flew through the air, embedding themselves in people’s bodies.
Li Wenxun cried out, “Watch out! It’s the Mind-Numbing Needles!”
Being closest to Cai Zhao, his neck, chest, and abdomen were struck by several needles. He fell heavily from mid-air, unable to move. Given his profound cultivation, the fact that he was incapacitated spoke volumes about the needles’ potency. The surrounding disciples who were hit by the needles all collapsed, paralyzed.
Ding Zhuo, struck by seven or eight needles, lost consciousness immediately.
As chaos erupted in the hall, disciples outside began to clamor, threatening to rush in.
In the blink of an eye, Cai Zhao shot two black, round iron eggs from her sleeves. One flew towards the main hall door, while the other targeted the rafters at the back of the hall. Two thunderous explosions followed, and everyone realized—it was the “Rainstorm Thunder” again!
However, these two were merely triggers. The main hall door and rafters had been pre-loaded with several “Rainstorm Thunder” devices. Once ignited, a series of explosions rocked the hall. The Zhengyuan Hall was soon engulfed in thick smoke, with bricks and tiles scattering everywhere.
Yang Heying and Li Yuanmin, seated at the back, had been slow to react to Cai Zhao’s ‘suicide’ attempt. Now, their path was blocked by a series of explosions, forcing them to dodge left and right amidst the thunderous blasts and flying debris.
Although Cai Pingchun’s seat was opposite Yang Heying’s, he had rushed forward upon seeing his daughter’s ‘suicide’. While he wasn’t blocked by the explosions, he had only taken two steps when a numbing sensation rose from his dantian, followed by a wave of dizziness that nearly toppled him.
“Brother Xiaochun!” Ning Xiaofeng quickly moved to support her husband, helping him sit against the wall.
After checking his pulse, she exclaimed in shock, “Fine Rain Numbing Powder! When did you ingest this?!”
This was a concoction she had prepared herself, more potent than ordinary numbing powders. Those who ingested it wouldn’t notice any effects unless they tried to circulate their qi. Once they did, the drug would take effect, rendering them powerless for a short time. But she hadn’t brought any of this powder out of Luoying Valley. She had only given her daughter several large bottles for self-defense when she left to study at Mount Jiuli. Could it be…?
Cai Pingchun looked at his daughter in the distance, his mind clearing.
His daughter had known exactly when her mother would be busy with her toilette and had deliberately chosen that time to visit. When she had turned her back, she must have slipped the numbing powder into the tea. Her glances at his teacup and out the window weren’t daydreaming—she had been calculating how much tea he had drunk and when the powder would take effect.
The couple exchanged bewildered glances, their eyes filled with confusion and fear.
What would their daughter do next?
Zhou Zhizhen, seated to the left and slightly below Qi Yunke, should have been hit by many Mind-Numbing Needles. However, Li Wenxun’s charge had been more ferocious, forcing Cai Zhao to focus more needles on him. Consequently, fewer needles were directed at Zhou Zhizhen.
As the needle rain flew towards him, Zhou Zhizhen instinctively used his sleeve to block, ultimately finding that only his left arm had been struck. His cultivation was as profound as Qi Yunke’s. He immediately held his breath and used his right hand to rapidly press several major acupoints, forcibly halting the spread of the needles’ poison. Then, gritting his teeth, he pulled out the needles from his left arm.
“Zhaozha, don’t be foolish!” Zhou Zhizhen tossed the extracted needles to the ground and drew his sword, determined to capture the girl.
Cai Zhao, who had somehow acquired a small golden whistle in her mouth, blew on it urgently while pressing something at her waist. A golden-red light flashed, and she raised her knife to meet Zhou Zhizhen’s attack.
Strangely, no matter how hard she blew, the golden whistle seemed to produce no sound.
On the other side, at a distance equal to Zhou Zhizhen’s, Song Shijun had no one to help disperse the Mind-Numbing Needles. He was struck by four or five needles with a series of “chih chih” sounds. Although they didn’t all hit vital points like Li Wenxun’s, he still stumbled and fell to the ground.
Song Yuzi, shielded by his father, was only struck by one needle. After removing it, he tossed his father to Pang Xiongxin behind him. Just as he was about to help Zhou Zhizhen subdue Cai Zhao, he found his father firmly gripping the hem of his robe.
“Father, what are you doing?!” he exclaimed in frustration.
Song Shijun pulled his son back forcefully and lowered his voice, “Do you want to marry Zhaozha or not? If you do, listen to your old man. It’s better if that Mu fellow escapes. Right now, we shouldn’t do anything. Quick, pretend the poison from the Mind-Numbing Needles has taken effect and you can’t move! Old Six, help me hold this boy down!”
While the Song father and son were engaged in this hushed exchange, Cai Zhao and Zhou Zhizhen had begun their battle.
Despite Cai Zhao’s exceptional talent and ten years of training under Cai Pingsu, Zhou Zhizhen was no ordinary opponent, with decades of cultivation behind him. However, while Cai Zhao fought with all her might, Zhou Zhizhen held back, reluctant to harm the young girl. As a result, they fought to a standstill for a short while.
Zhou Zhizhen grew increasingly frustrated. Channeling ninety percent of his qi, he swept his sword horizontally. Sword energy flashed like a rainbow, and with a “chi” sound, his blade cut through Cai Zhao’s elbow. He said sternly, “Zhaozha, surrender now!”
Cai Zhao, still biting down on the small whistle, raised her knife again. But suddenly, her technique changed, becoming light, graceful, and elegant.
Zhou Zhizhen was stunned—this was the sword technique of Peiqiong Manor. His heart trembled slightly as he remembered that years ago, as childhood sweethearts, he had taught Cai Pingsu a few moves of the Zhou sword technique. She must have passed them on to her niece.
Cai Zhao used her knife in place of a sword, its blade quivering slightly. In an instant, knife shadows appeared in all directions—this was the ‘Lakeside Moonlight’ move from the Zhou sword technique.
Zhou Zhizhen’s heart wavered, and he clumsily parried. Unexpectedly, Cai Zhao twisted her body and executed another ‘Lakeside Moonlight’ move.
“Zhaozha, what are you doing?!” Zhou Zhizhen’s face darkened.
‘Lakeside Moonlight’ wasn’t the first Zhou sword technique he had taught Cai Pingsu. The first move he taught was ‘Small Hill Full Moon’, which his young fiancée had learned with remarkable intelligence.
It wasn’t the last move he made either. The last time he taught Cai Pingsu, she was already fourteen. That move was ‘Moonlight Dominates the Sky’, a technique of immense power. But she had only learned half of it before refusing to continue.
The young girl had leaned against a tree, holding her sword. “Brother Zhizhen, learning the ordinary Zhou sword techniques is fine, but this ‘Moonlight Dominates the Sky’ is a key secret of the Zhou sword technique. It wouldn’t be right to teach it to others.”
“How could you be considered ‘others’?” the young man had smiled, failing to notice the expression on his fiancée’s face.
Why had she refused to learn? At that time, she had not yet left Peiqiong Manor. Could she have already vaguely guessed that their marriage might not come to pass?
Cai Zhao executed another ‘Lakeside Moonlight’ move, circling.
Zhou Zhizhen’s mind wandered, and in his hazy vision, Cai Zhao’s figure seemed to transform into the teenage Cai Pingsu from years ago…
The Peiqiong Manor had been established for two hundred years, and naturally, the Zhou sword technique had been constantly improved and supplemented. ‘Lakeside Moonlight’ was created by the fourth-generation manor lord and his wife while taking a lakeside stroll—their childhood sweetheart romance, loving marriage, and lifelong devotion had become a beautiful tale in both the Zhou family and the martial arts world.
The usually quick-witted Cai Pingsu had been particularly clumsy when learning the ‘Lakeside Moonlight’ move. She could never get it right, repeatedly requiring her fiancé’s guidance and correction.
The young man had found it quite amusing. After several demonstrations, he couldn’t help but tease, “What’s wrong, Sister Pingsu? You usually master even the most difficult moves in three attempts at most, but you keep forgetting bits and pieces of this simple ‘Lakeside Moonlight’ move?”
In the sun-drenched courtyard, the young girl had remained silent, her gaze deep and lingering, a mix of joy and coyness.
This look seemed familiar to him. When had he seen it before? Where?
As memories flooded back, Zhou Zhizhen suddenly trembled as he remembered—
Cai Pingsu had looked at that pearl and jade hairpin under the lamplight with the same expression: deep, intense, a mixture of joy and subtle reproach.
So, she had once looked at him the same way.
When did she stop looking at him that way?
Was it after he repeatedly advised his fiancée not to take offense at her sharp-tongued mother? Or was it after he consistently tried to maintain a balance between his fiancée and cousin?
The young girl’s initial enthusiasm gradually cooled. She began to leave more frequently, spending less and less time at Peiqiong Manor. The childhood sweethearts who had once promised marriage ultimately became mere acquaintances.
Zhou Zhizhen’s breathing quickened, his sword technique becoming erratic.
With a clang, blade met sword—Cai Zhao forcefully pressed her knife edge close, and when she was within half a foot of Zhou Zhizhen’s face, she opened her mouth. The small golden whistle hung from its chain around her neck.
She articulated each word clearly, “Aunt said, liking someone isn’t wrong. But if that person doesn’t like you back, don’t like them for too long!”
Zhou Zhizhen’s qi surged chaotically as memories flooded back, bringing a pain as sharp as a mountain torrent to his heart.
Seizing this opening, Cai Zhao raised her knife to break through the sword’s edge, her left palm striking Zhou Zhizhen’s Tanzhong acupoint with a resounding slap.
Utterly exhausted, Zhou Zhizhen spat out dark purple blood and slumped weakly against the wall. His mind was in turmoil, repeatedly wondering—when he had disappointed Sister Pingsu time and again, how had she felt? Was it as heartbreaking and desolate as when he realized Mu Zhengyang’s existence?
The surrounding explosions gradually ceased as all the “Rainstorm Thunder” devices finished detonating.
With both the main and side doors of the great hall blocked by fallen bricks and tiles, the disciples outside couldn’t enter. However, Yang Heying and Li Yuanmin had already shaken off the dust and were advancing menacingly towards Cai Zhao.
As Zhou Zhizhen fell, Cai Zhao didn’t pause for a moment. She turned and swung her knife, breaking Mu Qingyan’s iron chains and shackles with several sharp clangs. Ning Xiaofeng cried out, “Zhaozha, don’t be foolish!”
“Foolishness doesn’t matter, I’ll teach her a lesson!” Yang Heying sneered, brandishing his sword as he charged.
Cai Zhao swiftly turned, her blade drawing a semicircle to heavily press down on the incoming sword edge.
Yang Heying’s arm shook, feeling slightly numb. He thought to himself that this little wretch’s kung fu was formidable. Discarding his contempt, he flexed his wrist, vibrating his sword tip toward the girl’s left arm.
Cai Zhao still didn’t defend, instead continuing to swing her knife horizontally. The back of her blade slid along his sword edge, deflecting it, while she once again bit down on the silent golden whistle, blowing with all her might.
Having his attacks deflected twice in succession, Yang Heying grew increasingly furious. His sword techniques became denser and more rapid, like a fierce storm. However, Cai Zhao repeatedly used only the horizontal technique from Cai Pingsu’s ‘Great Wind River Clearing Knife Technique’, using the back of her blade to slide along her opponent’s sword edge from left to right and back again. The Yan Yang Knife, being one of the world’s finest weapons, couldn’t be broken by Yang Heying’s precious sword.
By this time, Li Yuanmin had finally arrived, thrusting his sword directly at Cai Zhao’s back.
To avoid the attack from behind, Cai Zhao twisted her right shoulder, exposing a weakness in her left. Yang Heying, overjoyed, found his right-hand sword had just been deflected by the Yan Yang Knife. He formed a sword seal with his left hand and swung his arm in a chopping motion, striking Cai Zhao’s left shoulder with a loud slap.
Cai Zhao let out a muffled groan, her left shoulder crackling ominously, indicating a partial bone fracture.
Mu Qingyan’s eyes reddened as he struggled to rise, but days of severe injury and high fever had left him without strength.
Song Yuzi almost rushed forward, but Song Shijun desperately lowered his voice, saying, “If you go out now, are you trying to stop her or help her save someone? Hold back, you must hold back!”
Just as Yang Heying was about to gloat, he suddenly felt his qi insufficient, unable to channel it to his palm.
He looked down blankly and saw that Cai Zhao had somehow managed to wedge four shiny Mind-Numbing Needles between the fingers of her left hand. All four needles were half-embedded in his Qimen acupoint at the waist.
Half of Yang Heying’s body went numb and immobile. He sluggishly cried out, “Not… good…”
Cai Zhao gathered her qi, flipped her body, and slashed diagonally with her knife. Blood sprayed as Yang Heying was cut from his left shoulder to his right abdomen, his flesh split open and bleeding profusely.
Yang Heying fell with a scream, but everyone in the hall who could see, including himself, realized that Cai Zhao had shown mercy. Given the sharpness of the Yan Yang Knife, it wouldn’t have been difficult for her to cleave Yang Heying in two.
Enduring the intense pain in her left shoulder, Cai Zhao turned to face Li Yuanmin. After a brief exchange of about ten moves, there was a sharp crack as Li Yuanmin’s long sword was severed by the Yan Yang Knife. His shoulder was slashed, leaving him unable to hold his sword hilt.
At this moment, another shower of broken tiles and stones fell from above. Looking up, everyone saw figures moving on the roof of the hall—disciples from outside had climbed up.
Earlier, when they found the doors and windows of the great hall blocked by the explosion, they left a few people to continue breaking down the doors while the rest remembered the two small skylights on the roof of the hall.
To their surprise, when they climbed up, they discovered that the explosion had created a large hole in the roof, perfect for a large number of people to enter through.
Just as the outside disciples were happily crawling in, a series of sharp, piercing cries of birds of prey suddenly rang out from the sky, and not just one.
Everyone looked up to see two enormous golden-winged rocs flapping their massive wings, each spanning over ten feet. The fierce wind generated by their wings struck the disciples, causing several to scream and roll off the roof.
The two golden-winged rocs had sharp beaks and talons like iron hooks, and their wings were incredibly powerful. They alternated between low swoops and perched on the beams, constantly batting away the disciples on the roof with their wings.
Cai Zhao looked up at the two giant golden figures and finally released the golden whistle from her mouth, smiling tiredly.
She waited beneath the large hole, dealing with disciples who fell into the hall by either piercing their shoulders with her knife or sword or lightly slashing their arms before kicking them aside.
Li Wenxun, unable to move, was furious. He managed to roar, “Cai Zhao, how dare you!”
Ning Xiaofeng, fearing for her unconscious husband, held onto Cai Pingchun tightly, only able to cry out, “Zhaozha, you can’t make any more mistakes, come back quickly!”
Cai Zhao didn’t respond, continuing to wound the falling disciples.
She knew she couldn’t go back anymore. From the moment she had sought to see Mu Qingyan yesterday, she had decided not to return—
Yesterday, upon entering the dungeon, she had taken the small golden whistle from Mu Qingyan’s neck. Its sound was inaudible to human ears but could be heard by the golden-winged rocs.
She then begged to go to Chang Wu Castle. After searching the Chang ancestor’s tomb with Mu Qingyan, they had been exhausted and had to descend the mountain at night, so they left the excess seven or eight “Rainstorm Thunder” devices buried in a corner of the graveyard. Yesterday, during the memorial service, she had dug them out while Fan Xing wasn’t paying attention.
Next, she knocked out Fan Xing in the middle of the night and disguised herself as him. The disciples guarding the temple at that time were from various sects, and even those from the Qingque Sect were mostly outer disciples unfamiliar with Fan Xing. In the darkness, it was difficult to distinguish between real and fake. Taking advantage of this opportunity, she used the golden whistle to summon the two golden rocs nearby, snuck into Zhengyuan Hall, and pre-planted the “Rainstorm Thunder” devices in crucial locations. She also slipped some laxatives into the food in the outer kitchen, hoping to reduce the number of sword-wielding disciples.
Early the next morning, she first administered the numbing powder to her father, Cai Pingchun, and finally provoked Zhou Zhizhen’s memories of the past through conversation.
—Heh, Luoying Valley truly had bad feng shui, producing “demon women” and “enchantresses.”
Look at her, in just a few short days, she had come up with such a vicious plan to betray her master and ancestors!
By now, except for two or three disciples still fighting with the golden rocs, the roof was mostly clear.
Cai Zhao swung the silver chain on her left wrist to wrap around Mu Qingyan’s waist. As she pulled, a wave of intense pain shot through her shattered left shoulder, leaving her without strength. Mu Qingyan, already pale-faced, called out “Zhaozha” but couldn’t continue.
Cai Zhao smiled slightly. “At this point, you’re not going to tell me to ‘forget it’ again, are you?”
Mu Qingyan bit his thin lips, staring intently at the girl as if trying to imprint her image in his heart.
Cai Zhao sheathed her knife, first leaping onto the roof herself, then switching to her right hand to pull Mu Qingyan up.
Ning Xiaofeng watched helplessly as her daughter was about to leave. A heart-wrenching cry escaped from deep within her, “Zhaozha, where are you going!”
Remembering the fate of previous generations of “demon women” from Luoying Valley, who had all disappeared without a trace, she feared her daughter would follow the same path, never to return. Her face streamed with tears as she called out repeatedly, “Zhaozha, don’t go! What will your mother do if you leave? Will you be able to come back if you go? Zhaozha, don’t go, Zhaozha…”
Song Yuzi was stunned. In his impression, Ning Xiaofeng had always been proud and willful, pampered and spoiled. He had never seen her cry like this before.
As he was lost in thought, he suddenly felt movement behind him. Turning to look, he saw his father had abruptly stood up. Under Pang Xiongxin’s bewildered gaze, he shouted towards the roof, “Cai Zhao, you ungrateful dead girl! If you want to let that Mu fellow go, then let him go, but you’re not allowed to leave yourself!”
Hearing Ning Xiaofeng’s cries, Mu Qingyan turned dazedly to look at the girl above him. His mind was in turmoil, torn between wanting to keep her by his side forever and wanting her to go back to her family.
At that moment, a teardrop fell heavily on Mu Qingyan’s face.
He looked up to see the girl hanging from the roof beam, tears falling one by one, but she gritted her teeth and continued to pull him up.
He seemed to hear something deep within his heart crumble.
Seeing that his shouts were useless, Song Shijun gathered his qi and pulled out the four or five Mind-Numbing Needles in quick succession. He then repeatedly struck the massive stones blocking the main door with both palms. Song Shijun’s decades of cultivation were not to be underestimated. With several thunderous crashes, the stones that had seemed as solid as bedrock shattered, allowing the disciples outside to pour in—but by this time, Cai Zhao had already pulled Mu Qingyan onto the back of a golden roc.
“You fools, what are you coming in for?” Song Shijun shouted at the disciples. “Go out and shoot arrows! Shoot those two golden-feathered beasts!”
But it was too late. Amidst a rain of arrows shot by the disciples, the two golden-winged rocs beat their wings and soared high, flying farther and farther away.
Unable to do anything for the tear-stricken Ning Xiaofeng, Song Shijun turned and rushed towards Li Wenxun. After frantically removing all the Mind-Numbing Needles and helping to circulate his qi, Li Wenxun leaped up with all his might, his eyes now bloodshot with anger.
“Come on, where are the archers? Get on horseback and pursue them!” Li Wenxun pressed his hand on Qi Yunke’s shoulder and said through gritted teeth, “Sect Leader, please forgive my presumption.”
Then, in front of the leaders and disciples of the six sects, he announced in a deep voice: “Cai Zhao has colluded with the demonic cult, betrayed her master and ancestors, harmed her elders, and injured her fellow disciples. Her crimes are unforgivable! I request that all sects immediately issue pursuit orders, calling upon all righteous martial artists in the world to jointly capture or execute the demonic cult leader Mu Qingyan and the Northern Chen traitor Cai Zhao!”
Ning Xiaofeng let out a heart-wrenching scream and fainted. Qi Yunke’s face contorted in pain, Zhou Zhizhen closed his eyes, and Yang Heying looked as if he wanted to jump up and personally lead the pursuit.
Pang Xiongxin quietly approached Song Shijun and whispered, “Sect Leader, for things to escalate to this point… isn’t it too much?”
Song Shijun stroked his beard and said sheepishly, “Actually, I didn’t expect the little girl to be so ruthless. Sigh, I don’t know, we’ll just have to take it one step at a time. Yuzi, where’s Yuzi?”
The two looked around and saw Song Yuzi standing alone in the center.
He was staring blankly at the sky visible through the gaping hole in the roof. It was so clear and blue, vast and distant, so resolute, gone without return.