When Huayi came in to report that dark ghosts had boarded the ship, Yuan Cheng was reading. He hadn’t gone ashore with Mo Zi tonight, because they couldn’t all go feasting and leave the ship empty at the dock.
He wasn’t nervous either. “The journey back has been too peaceful. I was just thinking the other party really can keep their composure—no wonder they’ve hidden for so many years without ever showing their hand. Go ahead, give them a proper reception. Keep their mouths and tongues intact though, so we can properly interrogate them and find out exactly who these divine beings are.”
Huayi acknowledged the order and walked out. Seeing Xiao Yi, he couldn’t help but put on a fierce expression. “Why did you come back?”
Xiao Yi grinned, unfazed by his fierce look. “Mo Zi told me to circle back and see why your master volunteered to stay on the ship tonight. Turns out, there really are ghosts.”
Huayi ignored her and walked forward on his own. “Just a coincidence. Get off the ship, don’t cause trouble.”
Xiao Yi stepped aside. Behind her stood Luo Yi and Zheng Yi.
“Let Xiao Yi join the fun.” Luo Yi was the second senior brother, ranking highest among these four Yi, and his words carried weight—not entirely because his gaunt, skull-like face was intimidating.
Zheng Yi ranked third. He also had a cold face, with far more white than black showing in his eyes, his gaze always carrying a murderous air. Yet he pulled the corners of his mouth at Xiao Yi in what passed for a smile, though the skin moved but not the flesh. His voice was sinister. “Junior sister, third senior brother will follow you.”
Xiao Yi nodded. “Third senior brother, if you make a move, let me have my fill of fun first.”
“Don’t worry, unless it’s a life-or-death moment, senior brother won’t intervene.” Their little junior sister had suffered too much at their hands in childhood; now that she was grown, they knew to cherish her.
Xiao Yi bounced, landing silently, her willow-leaf eyes narrowing with satisfaction. Since reuniting with her senior brothers and discovering that the nightmares were over, and that she could do as she pleased under their protection, this feeling finally allowed her long-suppressed lively nature to break free.
As long as it didn’t contradict the master’s orders, Huayi couldn’t say no to the senior brothers, so he could only say, “Try to keep them alive.” After speaking, he turned and lightly leaped onto the deck.
Xiao Yi and Zheng Yi followed closely behind, like shadows in the night. Luo Yi melted into a corner, as if he had never existed.
Yuan Cheng heard everything they said, but he continued reading, turning pages very slowly. It was the musical score for Golden Wind Melody. After hearing from Mo Zi about Mo Chou’s method of passing messages, he was even more certain he was searching in the right direction. Now he just needed someone to confirm it.
Feeling the ship’s planks vibrate, the fight must have started. But he quickly sensed the opponent wasn’t as easy to deal with as expected, because though the commotion wasn’t loud, it continued persistently. And when the cabin door was pushed open, a masked man actually walked in.
Yuan Cheng smiled instead of being alarmed. “Indeed, not a dog raised by ordinary people.”
The masked man stood by the door, arms crossed, voice cold. “The dogs you raise are also quite extraordinary, actually managing to hold all my men up above.”
“I don’t raise dogs—I hire them with real silver and gold.” Yuan Cheng poured a cup of tea and pushed it over with his fingertips. “You’ve worked hard. The cabin is stuffy, have some water so we can talk properly.”
The masked man didn’t move, his gaze cold as ice. “Your delaying tactics won’t work. I’ve already given the order—not even chickens or dogs will be left alive on this ship, and that naturally includes you.”
“Such confidence.” Since the guest wouldn’t drink, Yuan Cheng drank it himself. “Do you know there aren’t many actual boatmen on this ship?”
“Heh heh…” The masked man laughed sinisterly. “A whole ship of Qianniu Guards—I still have confidence I can take their lives. Instead of worrying about me, you’d better worry about yourself.”
“Qianniu Guards are the Emperor’s personal guards. Knowing their identity yet still harboring murderous intent, your master’s rebellious ambitions are laid bare.” His life hanging by a thread yet completely calm—this was the composure gained from surviving two brushes with death.
Seeing Yuan Cheng as already dead, the masked man spoke arrogantly. “So what if it is? The Emperor is weak, the realm in chaos—naturally the strong should replace him. Enough talk. Hand over the item, and I might give you a quick death. Otherwise, I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
This time, Yuan Cheng chuckled. “If I have to die whether I hand it over or not, why would I give it to you?” He seemed to suddenly think of something. “What exactly do you want me to hand over?”
Indifferent to Yuan Cheng’s feigned ignorance, the masked man was also a ruthless character who could keep his composure. He spat out three words: “Water-Purifying Pearl.”
“Water-Purifying Pearl?” Yuan Cheng laughed even harder. “Plotting rebellion while also coveting rare treasures—your master is truly busy. Could it be he heard the Water-Purifying Pearls hide the secret to a treasure trove and wants to claim it for himself? How absurd—such ridiculous tales can actually stir his greed. Does your master lack funds for his rebellion?”
The masked man listened to the sounds from above while saying, “That’s not your concern. Where’s the pearl?”
“How strange—why ask me? Apart from the four already returned to the Min family, the rest are scattered who knows where. Someone did give me one before, but I left it in Nande when fleeing for my life in haste.” Jin Yin’s gift of the Water-Purifying Pearl—he gambled that the other party didn’t know the full details, so he mixed truth with lies, speaking ambiguously.
The masked man snorted but didn’t accuse him of lying. “You don’t have it, but someone on this ship does. Moreover, that Water-Purifying Pearl originally belonged to my master. This visit is merely to return it to its rightful owner.”
Yuan Cheng’s ink-dark brows moved slightly. Return it to its rightful owner?
“I’ll ask politely one last time—hand over the pearl.” The masked man, hearing no sounds from above, narrowed one eye. “Victory is decided. Stop your dying struggles.”
“You’re mistaken. I never struggle—I only—” Yuan Cheng suddenly overturned the teacup onto the candle.
What appeared to be merely a tea-drinking motion caught the masked man completely off guard, unable to prevent it. Since this was the lower cabin and that candle the only light source, even a master would need time to adjust. However, when he sensed something amiss and was about to move forward to capture Yuan Cheng, someone pressed down on his shoulder.
“Don’t move,” that person said.
The masked man naturally didn’t obey. His right hand drew his blade, but he’d only pulled it halfway out when his neck felt a chill, then pain, then heat. He couldn’t believe that after all these years of never losing a fight, someone had actually cut his throat.
A breeze passed, and the candle lit again. Though Yuan Cheng was gone, a small, pristine pearl now sat on the table—a Water-Purifying Pearl.
The masked man’s eyes widened. He wanted to move but couldn’t.
Behind him, a vigorous voice, giggling without proper decorum, said, “Little Yuan, is this what they call looking at plums to quench thirst?”
Yuan Cheng’s voice also came from behind. “What Senior says is naturally correct.”
That person laughed heartily. “They all say you can fool both ghosts and gods—it’s true indeed.”
Though the laughter didn’t sound loud, the masked man felt his internal energy churning and his ears deafening for a moment. He couldn’t help but be greatly alarmed—what kind of evil technique was this? But he wouldn’t wait for death either. Taking advantage of their conversation, his neck twisted with extreme flexibility, breaking free from the restraint. His palm shot out, grabbed the Water-Purifying Pearl, and immediately tucked it into his chest. Having done this, he only then looked toward the doorway. His heart was unconvinced, believing he’d been restrained only because of the pitch darkness, and that escaping so easily proved the opponent’s success was pure luck. When he saw his opponent clearly, he sneered even more.
It was a tall, thin old man with vacant eyes and plain features, wearing clothes covered in patches, poor and emaciated, with temples that didn’t bulge and ordinary breathing—nothing like an internal martial arts master.
He decided the old man had struck lucky, and without bothering to notice how the blade that cut his neck had disappeared, he drew his sword. Though contemptuous in his heart, his hands used full strength, one strike in a mountain-splitting stance that would surely take the opponent’s life.
His blade struck out. His arm swung out. When he saw the old man’s sleeve suddenly billowing with wind and felt a warning sense, his blade never came back. His arm never came back. A golden flash—he watched wide-eyed as part of his body separated, then heard his own scream.
What the old man held wasn’t a blade but an extremely thin wire of indeterminate material. Now, a crimson smear traveled along the wire.
He still smiled mockingly, extremely quickly blocking the masked man’s left hand’s swing, nimbly prying open the mouth attempting suicide, extracting the poison, then patting down his whole body. His tone was somewhat complaining. “Young man, why are you in such a hurry? The first time I wanted to tell you I’d wrapped a wire around you, you ran off. The second time I wanted to warn you, you moved again. It’s spring, you’re lightly dressed, swinging your arm around like that—of course it came off. Don’t rush to die, it’s not time yet.” As if it were a table or chair missing a leg, he didn’t even blink.
How could the masked man listen to his words? Having practiced martial arts for many years, cultivating both internal and external skills to reach the ranks of top assassins, though not ranked first before his master, he was still in the upper-middle tier. Who knew the opponent hadn’t even used a single move—his actions were invisible—yet had severed an arm and extracted the poison. What kind of person was this? He collapsed on the ground, staring at the old man in terror.
“Young man, seal the acupoint, otherwise blood flowing everywhere is too unsightly.” It sounded very kind-hearted, but the latter half could anger someone to death. “This way, Lord Yuan can’t live here—the blood smells too foul.”
Yuan Cheng walked in and sat back in his previous seat. “Senior, it’s no matter. I wasn’t going to stay in this cabin anyway. Tonight I’m much obliged for Senior’s help. It’s Yuan who underestimated their strength. It seems from now on, nothing less than full effort will do.”
“Little Yuan, it’s not that you underestimated them, but they underestimated you. Don’t believe me? Let me ask.” The old man squatted before the masked man, reached out to pull off his mask, and nodded. “Quite upright-looking actually. Young man, tell me, when you boarded the ship, did you know I was following behind?”
The man was shocked again—of course he hadn’t known.
“It’s because Senior arrived in time. Yuan doesn’t dare claim credit.” Yuan Cheng poured two cups of tea, his gaze coldly falling on the blood-soaked man. This person had proper features, yet sinister eyes.
“Name,” he asked.
The man didn’t answer. He’d lost an arm, but he still had his stubbornness. However, his stubbornness completely dissipated under the old man’s single needle.
“Tao Shan,” he said.
“Tao Shan, now it’s my turn to ask. Two questions—you should be able to guess them. Who is your master? And what is the secret of the Water-Purifying Pearl? Answer, and I’ll let you go. Don’t answer, and you’ll suffer a fate worse than death.” Though answers wouldn’t come easily, the questions had to be asked.
“I don’t know.” He could yield on his own name. “My status is lowly. I only follow orders.”
“Is that so?” Yuan Cheng smiled, glancing at the old man opposite.
The old man chuckled and twisted his needle. Tao Shan screamed.