The hand that fell on Ying Jingjue’s shoulder was stained with blood, making it hard to see its original appearance.
The young Crown Prince came to his senses from those two gentle pats. He was somewhat puzzled why this was such a request. However, since it was something he could complete along the way, there was no need to refuse. He solemnly agreed.
“Whatever my benefactor entrusts, I’ll go through fire and water.”
Up close, this jianghu chivalrous figure appeared even thinner. Moreover, his earlier action against Falling Moon Stream seemed reluctant as well.
His gaze inadvertently swept past and suddenly stopped.
The white-robed swordsman’s right hand hanging at his side, holding the sword, was trembling slightly—different from trembling after exhaustion.
Li Ningfeng had once told him that his teacher had taught him in a letter that the foundation of becoming a swordsman was first learning to hold the sword steady.
Speaking of sword use, Young Master Ximian at the top of the Winds and Clouds Rankings was naturally a master among masters, reaching divine skill. How could there be a time when he couldn’t even hold his sword steady?
Also, what Umbrella-Blade Ghost had said earlier—ten years ago, Young Master Ximian habitually used a right-handed sword. Yet when he’d drawn his sword earlier, he’d used his left hand.
As if detecting his attention, the white-robed swordsman lowered his eyes and glanced at his own hand. After pausing, he switched the sword to his left hand and put his right hand behind his back.
Ying Jingjue withdrew his gaze and asked worriedly, “Is Young Master unwell?”
Lian Shenwei coughed lowly a few times. His meridians, impacted by internal energy, belatedly began to spasm. The meridians in his once-broken right hand reacted most severely. His hand trembled uncontrollably—he hadn’t even noticed.
Even returned to its sheath, the Cangshan Sword wasn’t heavy, yet his right hand could barely hold it. If Ying Jingjue hadn’t reminded him, he might not have known if the sword slipped from his grasp.
Normally, wide and substantial sleeves could conceal this somewhat. But these current clothes had tight cuffs. With hands exposed, anyone could see at a glance.
A wave of exhaustion came from within. Lian Shenwei could barely stand now. He looked around, found a place, lifted his robe hem, and casually sat down.
His clothes were half-wet. The stone he sat on, washed by rain, was also wet.
He couldn’t care about clean or not. Setting the sword beside him, his movements were efficient. No one could tell he was merely using leverage to support himself.
Lian Shenwei simply admitted Ying Jingjue’s speculation, half-true and half-false. “Ten years ago, the tendons in my right hand were severed by someone. I can’t easily fight. Since then, aside from wandering the jianghu, I’ve been seeking medical treatment.”
“I heard the Feng family heir’s medical skills are divine. After searching for many years, I finally learned a trace of their whereabouts. This trip is to find that Feng family heir for treatment.”
“The masters of Fudu Manor were my old friends. June 2nd is their death anniversary. If I go seek treatment, I won’t be able to pay respects this year. Fortunately, I met you. This year, you can go in my place.”
Ying Jingjue’s breathing caught slightly.
Young Master Ximian hadn’t appeared in the jianghu for ten years—it was actually for this reason. Calculating the time, back then, Young Master Ximian’s age was about the same as his now.
Right when one should be high-spirited, yet…
Ying Jingjue was silent for a moment. “You said you can’t fight at will. Then just now?”
Under the veil, Lian Shenwei’s complexion was extremely pale. He closed his eyes and recovered for a long while before steadying his voice. “It’s nothing serious.”
Though it had been long since he’d spoken so peacefully with Jingjue like this, right now he hoped more that this child would leave quickly.
A few more sentences, and he might not be able to hold on.
If he really fainted here, all the careful plans he’d made would likely be wasted.
Ying Jingjue said, “I…”
Lian Shenwei spoke before him. “Your Highness the Crown Prince should leave quickly. I should also hurry on my way.”
Ying Jingjue asked, “It’s already very late. Young Master will travel alone?”
“Of course not. I arranged to meet some friends in Yunbei. They’re waiting for me at an inn there. I can’t keep them waiting anxiously.” Seeing he was still worried, Lian Shenwei smiled, his tone relaxed. “Your Highness, please go. Just don’t forget what you promised me.”
“I’m not quite so destitute as to be alone without family or friends.”
Ying Jingjue cupped his hands. “If that’s the case, then I’ll take my leave here.”
Such a great hero presumably had many close friends and relatives. His worry seemed excessive.
Lian Shenwei watched the youth’s back disappear into the distance, then supported himself against the cliff wall to stand and found a nearby cave to hide in.
The cave was dry. Inside was a rock block that could barely pass for a stone bed.
Those with profound internal energy could see at night. However, Lian Shenwei’s vision was now black. The cave was blurry. With the veil blocking, he couldn’t see anything at all. He took it off, stumbled a few steps, tripped on something unknown, and fell awkwardly before the stone bed.
“Cough cough…”
The young man continuously coughed up blood from his throat. After years of toxins in his blood achieving balance then losing it again, the attack was far worse than when Feng Ke had just rescued him ten years ago.
He curled up in pain. His blood had also lost temperature. His neck and behind his ears were cold and sticky. Lian Shenwei didn’t know if it was blood or cold sweat from his body.
If it was blood, that really was quite wasteful.
When giving blood before, toward the later stages it barely flowed out. If bleeding then had been as easy as now, he wouldn’t have needed to cut his arm so many times.
Lian Shenwei pulled out a slender bamboo tube from his chest, opened it, and poured out several pills he normally took and a secret whistle.
He swallowed several pills haphazardly mixed with blood, then took the secret whistle and barely managed to blow it twice.
This secret whistle was specially made. His was the mother whistle. Only Ming Zhu and Tian Nan had the child whistles.
Once the mother whistle sounded, the child whistles would spontaneously vibrate silently—to prevent situations where Lian Shenwei encountered danger but the two couldn’t find him.
After doing this, he completely lost strength.
His thoughts began to muddle, drifting aimlessly. His ears felt stuffed with cotton. It seemed like an illusion—he vaguely heard the sound of horse hooves approaching.
His cheek itched slightly, but Lian Shenwei couldn’t lift his hand to scratch.
Really quite pathetic…
He hadn’t been this pathetic in a long time.
Feng Ke had said unless in desperate straits, he shouldn’t easily draw his sword. More than three times and his life would be hard to preserve. However, this pain really was more uncomfortable than death.
Now Feng Ke wasn’t by his side. Drawing the sword this time—he didn’t know if he could survive.
Now, counting enemies, only one remained. Besides that, Northern Yi matters and Li Ningfeng’s situation weighed on his mind.
With Feng Ke treating Li Ningfeng, even without his blood, there probably wouldn’t be major problems. Jingjue was slowly growing up and, as he wished, gradually becoming like strangers.
After this assassination, the person behind it was cautious—probably wouldn’t strike again on the southern tour route. As long as Jingjue returned to the capital, Feng Ke, Ming Zhu, Tian Nan, Mingqin, Li Ningfeng, and even Emperor Jingcheng would all protect him thoroughly.
Every time he recalled that Wei Li’s funeral was personally presided over by Ying Jingjue, who watched him be buried, his heart felt blocked.
Before leaving, he’d already instructed Tian Nan to dig up Wei Li’s grave on a rainy day. Now that old bastard’s disciples were probably crying and cursing before the grave…
He felt happy and choked out a laugh, coughing twice.
In his youth, he’d never imagined that one day he’d feel exhilarated by such things. Those innocent people implicated because of his vengeance—he didn’t feel the slightest regret.
Sometimes, he even felt it wasn’t enough.
He’d never forget that night when blood flowed like rivers at Fudu Manor, nor how he’d buried the manor’s people in coffins handful by handful of earth.
He didn’t know if Father, Mother, and Elder Sister, seeing his current despicable, dark, blood-stained appearance, would be disappointed.
Presumably they would be.
Lian Shenwei recalled when he was around ten years old. His martial arts newly achieved, with exceptional talent—right at the age when boys ran wild and loved causing trouble most.
Today he’d broken a bowl from Li Er’s household below the manor. Tomorrow he’d lose Song Si’s dog. Creating chaos everywhere.
If someone came to the door to complain, Mother would confine him to protect him, using her soft southern-accented tone to frantically persuade people while compensating them—replacing broken bowls, finding lost dogs.
Elder Sister…
Elder Sister would laugh at him, bringing him lotus leaf chicken and sour fruit wine when he was confined.
Lotus leaves from Jinling in June made the most tender lotus leaf chicken.
Elder Sister would use the Fuxue Sword to cut open the lotus leaf chicken. The two siblings would destroy evidence on the spot, one cup for you, one cup for me. The entire ancestral hall filled with the fragrant smell of meat and the clear, sweet aroma of sour fruit wine.
As for Father, he’d probably curse him in rage, ordering the kitchen not to make him meals while ignoring the chicken bones from the lotus leaf chicken in the ancestral hall.
But if he truly was bullied, that face-conscious old man would probably be the first to turn hostile…
Yet he’d still disappointed them.
Throughout Lian family history, there’d never been a descendant like him.
The family rules stated: Lian family descendants must conduct themselves with righteousness and virtue—must be loyal, benevolent, upright, not kill the innocent, not create karmic entanglements through implication… Family rules he’d copied countless times as punishment in the ancestral hall. Looking now, he’d violated every word and sentence.
Fortunately, the name written in this generation’s family genealogy was Lian Yubai, not his Lian Shenwei.
The person reviled by others was also Lian Shenwei—nothing to do with the Jinling Lian family or Fudu Manor.
His breathing grew increasingly difficult, weakening bit by bit.
Before his eyes flashed scene after scene of warm, peaceful memories from the past.
[“Yubai, Mother made osmanthus pudding! Come eat!”] This was Elder Sister’s voice.
[“Hmph! Why call him? That brat only knows how to run wild all day, causing nothing but trouble!”] This was Father’s voice.
[“Hey, what are you doing? Wait for Yubai—why such a hurry?”] This was Mother’s voice, striking Father’s hand with chopsticks.
The stone table was set beneath flowering trees. Clear breezes circled butterflies, willow branches swayed. The three of them sat at the stone table, smiling as they looked toward him, beckoning.
All waiting for him.
Lian Shenwei’s eyelids grew warm. His moisture-laden lashes were like a touch of diluted ink wash. He closed his eyes.
On one hand, he rationally and clearly knew these were hallucinations he was producing. On the other, he couldn’t help but feel—perhaps Elder Sister and the others didn’t blame him for killing so many people for revenge, and had come specifically to tell him so.
Before consciousness slid into darkness, he thought hazily—perhaps leaving this world he barely clung to wouldn’t be so bad after all.
–
After the two parties parted, Ying Jingjue hurried back with the remaining surviving shadow guards.
He hadn’t brought many people this time. Aside from the more capable shadow guards, only scattered few regular guards remained.
Having walked through life and death, besides the promise he’d just made to go pay respects in Jinling, Ying Jingjue now only wanted to verify one thing—
Whether this assassination was actually Lian Shenwei’s doing.
He hurried with his people to the imperial ship, only to be met with Little Zhizi’s solemn expression.
Many of the guards behind Little Zhizi were injured. The area around the imperial ship reeked of blood, with some black-clothed assassins’ corpses still present. Ying Jingjue recognized them—the same group that had pursued him.
He stopped Little Zhizi, surprised. “What happened?”
Little Zhizi also seemed not to expect seeing him here. The solemnity on his face vanished in a blink as he ran over. After seeing Ying Jingjue’s current appearance and the blood covering his body, he was so frightened he cried.
“Your Highness, what happened to you?! These wounds? Don’t tell me you also encountered assassins?”
Also?
Ying Jingjue hadn’t expected this scenario. All his speculations were overturned. His heart sank. “Where is the Regent Prince?”
Little Zhizi was on the verge of tears. “Not long ago, someone assassinated the Regent Prince. This slave only heard someone shout that the Regent Prince was there, and most of the assassins all chased after him. After the situation was controlled, this slave went to look in the Regent Prince’s room—there was no one inside anymore.”
“The Regent Prince’s whereabouts are unknown. Only an arrow remains on the pillar frame.”
Ying Jingjue asked, “Did you see clearly which direction the assassins chased?”
Little Zhizi pointed north.
“What about the guards beside the Regent Prince?”
“They’re… also gone.”
Ying Jingjue took a deep breath. “Search. Search carefully for this Prince.”
“Alive, we see the person. Dead, we see the corpse.” His eyes deepened slightly.
Regardless of whether Lian Shenwei had participated in this matter, undeniably, the capital’s situation was currently chaotic. Father Emperor was biased in his judgments. Ningfeng hadn’t recovered yet. Northern Yi people watched covetously.
The Great Sheng Dynasty’s Regent Prince couldn’t die yet.
At least not now.
–
“Whoa—”
Qiu Che stopped at the broken valley and dismounted.
All along this route were traces of fighting, making his brow furrow tightly.
It should have been one group pursuing, one group fleeing. Yet he couldn’t see traces of that person taking action. He’d clearly sensed familiar sword qi, yet there was no one here.
He tethered his horse and walked to the center of the broken valley. Here it was broken—probably man-made. Blood traces surrounded the area, but no bodies were visible. Perhaps they’d fallen into the deep valley.
Puddles collected in the uneven stone surface, their reflections faint and dim.
Qiu Che’s gaze suddenly focused.
The next second, he put his sword on his back, leaped up, and before descending, grabbed the edge of the broken valley. He reached out to touch an indentation on the edge stone.
The indentation was sharp and smooth.
This was…
A sword mark left by the Cangshan Sword.
“Ximian,” the swordsman said in a low voice.
He looked carefully around and discovered only this one sword mark. It seemed the sword’s owner had intentionally concealed their actions but accidentally left this trace.
Ximian had almost no enemies. Appearing once yet so cautiously taking action, leaving no traces—was it to avoid him?
Qiu Che applied force with his hand, using leverage to stand again at the broken valley’s edge. His cold gaze looked toward the opposite side. There were also blood traces there, mixed with many scattered footprints.
Ximian was perhaps among them.
The sword mark he’d discovered was very fresh, indicating the person hadn’t gone far.
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Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152