On the curve of the road in the pouring rain, water splashed up from the mud as An Xifu suddenly charged ahead toward Wang Yin. Behind her, the eight riders spurred their horses and charged forward as well, crashing into Wang Yin’s men in a chaotic melee.
The Black Plume Guard served as Fang Baihua’s military discipline corps, and were also among the most elite troops in the Yongle army. Even after the Yongle court had completely collapsed and scattered, these eight men still followed An Xifu, hardened and stubborn men by nature. Their battle-worn pasts had given them solid skills and simple but efficient methods of formation combat. As for An Xifu herself, to have earned Fang Baihua’s favor, she too was resolute and decisive. In martial skill, though she couldn’t compare to prodigies like Liu Xigua or Chen Fan, she was no worse than the so-called “Twelve Gods of Jiangnan.” Among the rank and file of the martial world, she was one of the outstanding young talents — all she lacked was experience.
But none of that meant much when facing Wang Yin.
If An Xifu was outstanding, then Wang Yin was already one of the people who had reached the very pinnacle of this world of rivers and lakes.
So when An Xifu charged forward with the bearing of someone prepared to die, he simply drew his sword with one hand in a single flashing stroke, splitting open the curtain of rain. The gap between them was too great — in the midst of the clashing figures, An Xifu, who had been charging madly forward, was suddenly forced onto the defensive. Then his blade swept through the air again, and his straw raincoat billowed.
In the pouring rain, the casual strike of Wang Yin’s sword carried an almost artistic beauty. The rain, forced to a stop, hung suspended in the air for an instant, forming a straight line, the shot of glistening water flying several meters before it fell. Amid the downpour it seemed as though fan-shaped streaks of light had been swept out, making anyone who saw that watery glow want to dodge instinctively — otherwise, even being splashed gave one the faint illusion of being cut apart by the blade’s light.
A single strike halted An Xifu completely. On the second stroke, she stumbled backward in defeat, throwing herself to the side just in time to dodge that fierce blow. One member of the Black Plume Guard lunged forward; Wang Yin’s arm moved, and the man was cut apart, saber and all, in the rain — broken blade, severed arm, and blood scattering across the sky, only to be beaten back down by the downpour an instant later. Wang Yin pressed toward An Xifu, and with another stroke sent her flying.
“Of those who once gathered under the Sacred Duke’s banner, few remain now…” He spoke as he walked through the rain. “You may not be one of our original group, but I have no wish to kill you with my own hands. It’s only that the thing in your possession is useful to me. Hand it over, and I won’t pursue this matter further.”
“Craven and fearful of death, betraying your master for glory — Wang Yin, the Sacred Duke misjudged you back then!”
“When a matter cannot be accomplished, one must let go of it. An Xifu, I owe you no explanation for what I do. You need only know that now—”
“Wang… Yin.”
Before Wang Yin’s words had finished, a voice sounded by his ear. When the word “Wang” was spoken, that voice still seemed far away; by the time “Yin” came, it was already right behind him. Announcing oneself before striking from behind was the mark of an honorable master of the martial world. And in the very instant Wang Yin turned, a presence seemed to burst forth from the rain itself, killing intent surging madly.
That figure had rushed the whole distance and closed in with astonishing speed, yet had stirred nothing in heaven and earth until this very moment — and in that instant, the monk’s staff swung up, spraying water in the air like an exploding dragon’s head, and the two figures collided head-on.
In that instant of contact, even the rain was forced apart. The next moment, Wang Yin leapt backward, several zhang clear of the fighting. When he came to a stop, the raincoat he wore had already been torn, falling away into the rain; he let the other half fall as well. In his hands now were two long swords, one held forward, one reversed. On the other side, the man who had just clashed with him was a burly, powerfully built figure, swinging a monk’s staff that now planted itself suddenly on the ground. His bamboo hat had been cut through by the sword and he casually removed it, revealing a pair of eyes that carried authority without anger. The man had a full beard covering his cheeks, but neither his hair nor his beard was particularly long.
The staff hummed faintly in the air.
—”Treasured Light Tathagata,” Deng Yuanjue.
Wang Yin glanced at An Xifu, who lay rolling in the mud, and a faint, appreciative smile crossed his face.
…
The rain fell in fits and starts, with no end in sight across this stretch of land north of the Yangtze.
When spring thunder split the sky, the young woman on the path glanced backward and for a moment seemed lost in thought.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hm?” When her companion asked, the young woman turned back and, after a moment’s thought, said, “Oh, nothing.”
“Someone following us?”
Trusting the young woman’s abilities, her companion looked back as well, thinking she might have noticed something, but she shook her head again.
“No.” She was silent a moment. “I was just thinking of Sister Tan’er, wondering how she’s doing now.”
“Xiao Fan should be protecting her.”
“When we scattered, she was badly hurt.”
As the young woman spoke, the sky flashed white once more, followed by a crash of thunder.
The three people on the roadside were Liu Xigua, Fang Shuchang, and Qian Luoning. They had come out to scout the situation.
Ever since the remnants of the Manichaean sect under Sikong Nan had gotten involved in this affair, the pursuit and chase between master-level fighters had grown perilously intense. Their own side had also been quite vigilant; ordinarily, the enemy couldn’t gather a large force quickly enough to bring disaster down on them all at once. But now this area had become fairly densely populated, with many government informants around, while their own side had no channel of intelligence whatsoever — which brought considerable trouble.
At present their own group was already a mass of wounded. Though their old experience in the martial world let them hide in secret for a while, they usually had to change locations within half a day. Among Liu Xigua’s men, the two highest in martial skill had originally been Du Sha and Luo Bingren; after Du Sha’s arm was severed, the responsibility of holding things together fell to Luo Bingren. Below him, Fang Shuchang’s style tended to be gentler and more meticulous, while Qian Luoning was quite clever. Liu Xigua had brought the two of them out to conduct reverse reconnaissance, to understand how the situation around them truly stood — and if things went smoothly, to lay down a few false trails to buy their side some time.
The enemy was pressing forward relentlessly and would show no mercy. Whether they could evade capture for a few more days, or whether they could cross the Yangtze southward to safety, had already become an extremely serious question.
After the thunderclap, Xigua strode forward. Qian Luoning looked up, then glanced back several times more, wanting to say something, but Fang Shuchang had already caught on and patted his shoulder, signaling him not to bother.
He stepped forward and spoke to Xigua about something he’d just learned. “Do you think… it’s him?”
Earlier, they had quietly found a local informant nearby, and had also come across a few martial artists who might belong to Sikong Nan’s faction, tailing them discreetly. They discovered that over the past half day, something seemed to have changed. Many were still hunting them, but beyond that, a portion of pursuers had been split off to chase down another group that clearly concerned them more.
Fang Baihua remained with their group; even if the several hundred who had once followed her had been scattered, the rest shouldn’t have caused this kind of stir. From the informant, they had vaguely heard that the other side was searching for some kind of ledger, but they hadn’t managed to learn more in the time available.
Fang Shuchang, who followed close by Xigua and had also had the most contact with Ning Yi in the past, had guessed at Xigua’s thoughts from the thunderclap just now. But Xigua thought it over and shook her head. “Doesn’t seem like it, does it?”
“Not sure. Schemes involving ledgers sound like the kind of thing he’d pull.”
“But I don’t think it’s him — and besides, the timing doesn’t add up.”
“If he traveled south day and night alongside Chen Fan, it’s possible. If it’s him coming personally…”
“What could he even do if he came?” The young woman furrowed her brow. “I know he has some schemes up his sleeve, but the situation now is different. You remember how it was back then, Third Brother — after we captured him, for months, if we’d wanted to kill him, he’d have had to stretch out his neck and accept it. His martial skill isn’t high; that’s always his weakness. And now, gathered around here are… are… anyway… there’s no room for him to get involved. Not enough time to plan — anyone who gets close will die.”
Speaking of schemes and plots, Ning Yi’s past conduct had certainly left a deep impression — he’d played the entire Overlord Blade camp and much of Fang La’s upper leadership for fools. But when it came to sheer cleverness, Xigua was no slouch either. Working backward, if he hadn’t had months to plant the seeds of trust in advance and then seize the moment as it came, Ning Yi could very well have been killed back then. As for the legendary tale of breaking Liangshan in three days afterward, others might be awed by it, but in Xigua’s eyes, that too had ultimately been the result of months of planning, leveraged by the power of the court.
Gathered here now were all first-rate masters of the martial world. With Ning Yi’s meager kung fu, coming here to play games of scheming wasn’t impossible, but if his luck turned bad and he ran into some master — Sikong Nan, Lin Ecan, Wang Nantuo, or the like — Xigua didn’t even want to think about the outcome. And besides, her instincts told her that this matter of the ledger probably had nothing to do with Ning Yi. She wasn’t even sure whether that made her happy or not, but in any case, her tone had come out a bit sharp.
Fang Shuchang pursed his lips, but then Qian Luoning caught up and reached out to pat his shoulder. The two of them stopped in their tracks, and when they turned, they saw Qian Luoning looking back with some confusion.
The rain pattered down. Along the mountain path, the green grass lay flattened, and not far off, the woods looked dark and deep. A moment later, Xigua too furrowed her brow slightly. In that same instant, Qian Luoning suddenly bent low, drew his blade, and rushed out like a leopard.
He plunged into that dark patch of woods in a flash, with Fang Shuchang right behind him; the trees shuddered, as though rainwater were being flung off the canopy above. There was no clash of weapons — just a whooshing sound, as if a great wind had been stirred up. Xigua drew her single blade and charged in too, her figure leaping; her blade and fists blended together as she moved, and soon came the sound of blows landing — thump, thump, thump, thump.
Something took several hits from her, and then a whoosh sounded from within the woods. A broad monk’s sleeve swept out, and the three figures of Xigua, Fang Shuchang, and Qian Luoning were sent flying back out simultaneously.
A wide monk’s robe, a round face, carrying a presence as deep as an abyss — the figure gradually emerged before the three of them. It was Lin Ecan. He wore a smile, his pace slow and steady.
In terms of skill, Liu Xigua, Fang Shuchang, and Qian Luoning were all now close to top-tier, and being from the Overlord Blade lineage, they cooperated with flawless coordination — rare indeed were their equals in the martial world. But just now, Lin Ecan had taken on all three of them alone, and though neither side had gained a clear advantage, the strength the man displayed was genuinely astonishing. Xigua’s boxing technique had been meticulously created by Liu Dabiao himself, combined with the Overlord Blade style, bold and full of countless killing moves. Though Xigua appeared petite, the power beneath her hands was enough to crack stone and split rock. She had landed several solid blows on Lin Ecan just now, yet his thick hide and flesh seemed utterly unaffected. The three of them stared at him, saying nothing for a moment.
“Last time you left in such a hurry, I didn’t even get to exchange a word with the daughter of an old friend — quite a pity.” Lin Ecan spoke. “You’re Liu Dabiao’s daughter, the one they call Xigua, aren’t you? And these other two must be Liu Dabiao’s personally taught disciples — truly, heroes come young. Hm… might one of them be your husband?”
Xigua gripped her blade, staring at him. Qian Luoning said, “What ‘Demon Buddha’ Lin Ecan — you’re much too fat for this kind of tailing work. Better shed some of that flesh first!”
Xigua twisted her wrist, her voice carrying a rasping, rough edge. “And your movements aren’t so skillful either. Couldn’t even dodge my fists.”
Fang Shuchang said, “Besides, opening with a question about a woman’s husband — poor manners indeed.”
The three of them mocked him coldly, but Lin Ecan, though smiling, didn’t seem the least bit angry. “The name Lin Ecan was one I used in my younger years — no need to bring it up now. A day ago, I sent someone to deliver a challenge letter to Zhou Tong. These days, the name I go by is Lin Zongwu. Coming here today, though my intentions aren’t exactly kind, I did genuinely want to see Liu Dabiao’s descendants — to say hello.”
At this, Fang Shuchang pulled a face, and Qian Luoning glanced at him; the two nearly burst into mocking laughter. But Lin Ecan’s words continued.
“‘Overlord of the South, Great Blade’ — truly a grandmaster of his generation, worthy of the name. I couldn’t match him back then. Even my senior sister once said that without Liu Dabiao, Fang La’s usurpation would have needed at least another ten years of preparation. Such a talent among men — I admired him for it. So when Senior Sister ordered me to design the ambush that killed Liu Dabiao, I felt some regret in my heart.”
“You said… WHAT!?” As soon as these words were spoken, the very air around them changed abruptly!
The young woman clenched her teeth, gripping her blade hilt tight, each word measured, her eyes shot through with red veins that were beginning to turn crimson!
Lin Ecan clasped his hands behind his back, gazing at her, and smiled faintly. His nickname in his younger days had been “Demon Buddha” — carrying both a demonic side and a Buddha-like aspect. Now, on that round face, his smile held calm, tinged with a certain refinement, and against the cold atmosphere, it produced an inexplicable eeriness…
“Fat man! Say it… again!”
Xigua bent slightly at the waist, lowering her blade, her bloodshot eyes and clenched teeth trembling, her qi and blood surging to their limit — her whole body now radiating a terrifying, murderous ferocity, as though she had become a swift and fearsome beast about to charge her opponent and tear him apart with her teeth!