That fleeting moment of charm 1-9

That Fleeting Moment of Charm
Author: gubaman Word Count: 29604 Published: 2003/07/25 On: Erotic Coastline
The Jade Gate Pass is a formidable fortress, with its towering mountains, beacon towers, and imposing walls.
People stand guard at distant posts, watching for fires; horses tread deep mountains, their tracks vanishing.
This poem vividly depicts the imposing grandeur of the Jade Gate Pass, with its layered mountains, numerous beacon towers, and formidable defenses. It was here that the young Wang Changling gazed upon the pass, overwhelmed with emotion, and composed this magnificent poem. At this moment, the mountain wind is strong, the pine trees roar like thunder, and a young man in white stands amidst the mountain mists, gazing at the horizon where the clouds meet the sky, where the smoke and clouds are brilliant and vibrant.
And amidst the misty mountains, how many smokes linger?
"The mist settles, the sunset fades, the sky opens, and the moon shines brightly on every household." The white-clad youth murmured, "At this moment, thousands of households in Chang'an are immersed in the bright moonlight, while this border region is desolate, the mist has vanished, and Father, are you still alive?" With that, he mounted his horse, let out a long whistle, and his figure instantly disappeared into the shadowy hills.
Chapter 1:
Wuyuan in Yanzhou was a border region repeatedly contested between the Tang Dynasty and Tibet during the mid-Tang period. At this moment, spring was in full bloom, willows swayed in the water, and lush grasses reflected in the fields, creating a beautiful scene. A young woman in palace attire sat on a high platform gazing into the distance. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed, her beauty unparalleled, truly a peerless beauty. She was dressed entirely in white, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, and in the afterglow of the setting sun, she appeared even more radiant, her demeanor elegant and unmatched.
She sighed softly, a sigh filled with disappointment, expectation, and a faint sorrow that was heart-wrenching. A melancholy beyond her years appeared on her young face, and she said softly, "Master's wife, for the past five years I have come here every year, hoping to see him again, but it has been in vain. Heaven is truly unjust." Her
mournful gaze swept over a middle-aged woman beside her, also dressed in palace attire in yellow. "On several moonlit nights, the sound of flutes echoes; who leans on their sword against the white clouds? Where is he? Master's wife, tell me!" Although she knew her master's wife couldn't answer, the longing in her heart day and night was eroding her once youthful and beautiful years.
The middle-aged woman's eyes were filled with boundless affection. She comforted her, "Princess, fate will bring you together. Everything depends on destiny; you don't need to force it."
The princess abruptly turned her head and said, "Are you saying we're not destined to be together? No, I know he's waiting for me. He's looking for me just like me, but perhaps it's not the right time yet." She nodded, "Yes, he's looking for me too, I know." Her eyes shone with determination and unwavering resolve.
The middle-aged woman couldn't help but pull her into her arms, saying firmly, "Your master's wife will definitely help you find him, no matter where he is. My little princess."
Five years ago, the new emperor ascended the throne and granted a general amnesty. Taking advantage of her brother's joy, the young Princess Xinyue finally set foot on the northern lands. She had often heard her master and mistress praise the vast, desolate, and majestic scenery of the northern frontier, and she had longed for the magnificent scene of "a lone plume of smoke rising straight from the desert, the setting sun round over the long river." However, due to her royal status, she had never been able to go. Now that her wish had been fulfilled, she was overjoyed.
That night, the moonlight shone like a ribbon. Princess Xinyue took out her ever-present zither, a dark and aged instrument, clearly over a thousand years old. Long ago, a craftsman named Qiao obtained fine paulownia wood, carved it into a zither, strung it, and played it. He consulted lacquerware for its crackle patterns and seal script for its ancient grooves, thus creating this rare treasure. Later, he disappeared into the Dangming Mountains, his whereabouts unknown. The zither eventually ended up in the palace. The old emperor, knowing his beloved daughter's love for the zither, gifted it to her, and Xinyue cherished it
dearly. The vast wilderness stretched out before her, stars twinkled like hanging clouds, and the moonlight danced. Xinyue played the zither, its sound resonant, peaceful, dignified, and elegant, displaying a refined and graceful air. Suddenly, a few soft notes of a flute drifted from afar, slowly blending into the zither's melody, like gossamer threads carried by the wind, continuous and unending, stirring a deep and moving feeling.
Xinyue raised an eyebrow, the zither's melody gradually rising in pitch, while the flute's notes softened, creating a harmonious and melodious sound. The music shifted dramatically, sometimes clear and intermittent, sometimes undulating and full of variation.
Then, the zither and flute gradually fell silent, and the flute music abruptly stopped. A clear voice echoed across the fields: "On this quiet night, I was fortunate to hear such elegant music. My hands couldn't resist the urge to play, and I apologize for disturbing you, young lady. Farewell, until we meet again." A long whistle followed, and the flute music resumed in the distance, playing Liu Xiang's "Song of the Yue People" from the Han Dynasty.
Xinyue rushed forward, only to see a figure in white, already hidden among the trees and grass in the slanting sunlight. A yellow shadow flashed past beside her; it must have been her master's wife, Qin Xiaomei, chasing after her.
The new moon, still captivated by the poignant, yearning, and plaintive atmosphere of the scene, lowered her head to savor it: "The hidden dragon dances in the deep ravine, the widow weeps on her lonely boat. Truly, the lingering melody is so beautiful,
like a thread that never breaks." She looked up at the sky; the vast expanse was filled with the bright moon, and the two lines of clear tears on the girl's cheeks beneath it resembled dazzling stars in the sky. At this moment, the new moon hung like a hook, and the princess was filled with emotion. She lowered her head, murmuring, "What night is this, that I row my boat midstream? What day is this, that I share a boat with the prince? I am honored by your favor, yet I do not care for shame or disgrace; my heart is troubled and restless, for I have met the prince! There are trees on the mountain, and branches on the trees, but my heart is pleased with you, yet you do not know!" She was reciting the "Song of the Yue Boatman," the song the white-clad youth had played on his flute before his departure. It expressed a bitter longing, using the image of lush branches to symbolize deep love, and the profound sorrow of not being understood.
Her mournful eyes held an indescribable bitterness. For years, she had suffered from lovesickness, unable to sleep at night, often waking in the middle of the night to the clear image of the handsome young man in her mind, an image she could not shake off.
Her elder brother, the emperor, doted on his younger sister and had repeatedly sought out wealthy and noble men for her, but she had not even given them a second glance. For the past five years, she had been caught between dreams and reality, often waking up from nightmares. She knew she might never see him again, yet she remained unwilling to accept it.
Qin Xiaomei stood quietly beside her, softly saying, "Princess, this young man is incredibly skilled, with unparalleled lightness of movement. Although he is a man of refined taste, he is a martial artist. For the past few years, I have ordered Wang Ping to send out invitations throughout the martial arts world, searching for him everywhere, but to no avail. But heaven rewards those who persevere, and heaven has taken pity on your deep affection, Princess. It will surely allow you to see him again." Wang Ping was the chief of the Imperial Guards and Qin Xiaomei's husband, his martial arts skills unmatched in the martial arts world.
Xinyue sighed, "Yes, I hope so. I wonder if he is thinking of me now?"
Qin Xiaomei sighed inwardly: What a tragic fate.
Chapter Two
: "A small building hears the spring rain all night, a deep alley sells apricot blossoms tomorrow morning." In the secluded chambers of her small house on a spring night, she listened to the wind and rain all night long. A graceful figure stood quietly atop the Biyun Tower on Changgui Street in Jinling Prefecture. The apricot blossoms were in bloom, the spring rain was alluring, and her heart was in turmoil. Gazing at the zither covered in thick dust beneath the window, she softly recited, "Do not let your heart vie with the flowers in spring's bloom, for every inch of longing turns to ash." Her voice was gentle and delicate, carrying a deep and lingering sorrow.
She looked around; her chambers were empty and desolate, with no one to speak to. Where was her beloved? Tears streamed down her carefully made-up face. Day and night she longed and yearned. Sometimes, the swaying shadows of the trees would make her think her beloved was coming, filling her heart with secret joy.
For years, she had worn heavy makeup every day, hoping that one day he would suddenly appear by her side again, tender and loving. Remembering that intoxicating feeling, she couldn't help but gently stroke her now gleaming pubic area. Her honeyed orifice was already dripping with lustful fluids. She gently touched her hardened clitoris, a tingling sensation making her body weak. She quickly grabbed the windowsill, the scene of him making love to her by the windowsill years ago vividly flashing before her eyes, she was intoxicated.
Three years ago, one night, Zhao Xinru was admiring the moon in the back garden as usual. "The clouds stretch far and wide, the moon dances gracefully, the Milky Way drifts like a jade plate." She was immersed in her poetic imagination. Suddenly, she heard a groan from the flowers. She couldn't help but turn pale and said, "Chunyue, go and see what that sound is?" Chunyue boldly stepped forward, only to see a young man, handsome and fair, covered in blood. Zhao Xinru couldn't help but glance at him and said, "Who are you? What are you doing lying here? Get out of here at once."
The young man staggered to his feet, but the grime on his face couldn't conceal his innate composure and elegance. He covered his chest with his hand, revealing tattered clothes and a dark handprint on his chest in the full moonlight. He said softly, "I apologize for disturbing you, Miss. I must leave now." With that, he staggered and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
When the young man awoke, he felt the fragrant scent of the quilt and the bright sunlight streaming through the window. He closed his eyes and focused his mind, recalling the past events, and suddenly, images of swords and spears flashed through his mind. He knew that although his internal injuries were severe, he could heal himself given time.
What was terrifying was the ruthlessness of his opponent, who always eliminated enemies without hesitation. Although he had broken through the encirclement this time, the Tibetan Tantric handprint he had suffered was extremely powerful; his internal energy was scattered, and his bones felt as if they were about to fall apart. He needed to find a secluded place to heal, without letting his opponent notice, so he decided to fight to the death .
********** ... "Jiangnan has nothing to offer, but I'll give you a sprig of spring." When the young man gently tucked a chrysanthemum into her hair, she felt a surge of heat, her soft body collapsing into his arms. She felt that life had never been so beautiful. For months, they had exchanged poems and songs, played the zither and flute in harmony, their love blossoming. Her father, Zhao Xun, was the prefect of Jinling, busy with official duties and rarely visited. Her mother was chronically ill, and rarely went to Biyun Tower. Although the young man's origins were unknown, it didn't matter; love was enough. Now, he was dressed smartly, no longer the haggard figure of the past, but a handsome young man. Biyun Tower was their warm haven of joy. She didn't know why he had such boundless energy, so much so that she often felt exhausted. Every time the young man inserted his enormous jade pestle into her tight, hot vagina, she would convulse. As his penis thrust in and out of her narrow vagina, her whole body went limp like cotton, her rapid breathing and intermittent moans like the song of a nightingale in March. Sometimes, when she was menstruating, he would disregard everything and insist on penetrating her anus. She could only endure the excruciating pain as he charged into her narrow, straight walls. She couldn't bear his cold gaze; his silence terrified her. Time flew by. That morning, she went to greet her parents as usual. When she returned, they were gone. On the desk lay a jade pendant, beneath which was a note: "My dear sister, life is short, joy is fleeting, and separation is frequent. At my sickbed, my beloved is by my side. My sister's deep affection may have been forgotten. I only regret that all good things must come to an end. Today we part, and I know not when we will meet again. The reunion is uncertain. I hope you take care, sister." Zhao Xinru felt as if her heart was being torn apart. She cried out softly and fainted. Chapter Three: Spring is in full bloom in Baihua Valley. "The madly drifting willow catkins go with the wind, the frivolous peach blossoms drift with the flowing water." A young woman in red stood by Peach Blossom Pool, lost in thought. Her face was beautiful, her skin like jade. Her eyes were filled with tears of longing. For four years, she had waited by the pool every day, hoping that one day he would suddenly appear by her side as before. But the falling flowers were willing, the flowing water was indifferent. Now, in the desolate valley, where was he? She clearly remembered the day they first met. The Yellow Crane Tower was bustling with people; the Pai Gang was holding a celebration there. Recalling the past, waves of shame and joy surged in her heart. Her name was He Yunfang, renowned throughout the martial arts world for her beauty. She and her sister, He Yunfen, were known as the Golden and Silver Twin Foxes. In recent years, they had moved among various prestigious martial arts sects, and countless young masters had fallen at their feet. On this day, she had come with Ling Feng, the eldest disciple of the Huashan Sect, and others to support the Pai Gang. Ling Feng, known as one of the Four Young Masters of the martial arts world, was a man of elegant bearing and, being from a prestigious family, the object of many women's affections. His presence at the celebration was solely due to the existing friendship between the Ling and Zhou families. Zhou Yongsheng, the leader of the Pai Gang, was renowned for his powerful Eagle Claw Kung Fu and represented the Northern School of the Eagle Claw Sect. However, he had a long-standing feud with the Southern School. Now advanced in years, having traversed the martial world for decades and experienced many hardships, Zhou Yongsheng, after arranging his successor, decided to retire from the martial arts world today. Just then, a young man in white robes appeared silently at the celebration, his long robes whiter than snow, his bearing extraordinary. She still remembered his thunderous strike, incredibly swift. Before Zhou Yongsheng could even extend his hand to place it in the golden basin, a large flower of blood bloomed on his chest, and his body fell heavily onto the red carpet. He died without understanding why his end would be so tragic, without even seeing his opponent's face clearly. The celebration had now turned into a battlefield. The young man was enveloped in a flurry of swords and spears. Several corpses lay dead in the hall, all fatally wounded in the chest. He charged through the encirclement, his composure undiminished despite the numerous sword wounds he sustained. At the height of the battle, he let out a long roar, lightly tapping his sword to create an opening, and charged outwards. He Yunfang and the others pursued him relentlessly, even reaching Liushui Dock. The young man stopped, turned back, and smiled at her, a smile as radiant as the sun. Her face flushed slightly. Only then did she realize that she was facing the young man alone; the others, with their inferior lightness skills, had been left far behind. As she fell into the young man's warm embrace, she knew she could never leave him for the rest of her life. He possessed an irresistible magic. That day, he had ridden upon her, indulging in wanton abandon, letting the blood from his wounds drip from his forehead and shoulders, like peach blossoms blooming on her bare chest. Her body went limp, her vulva enduring the boy's relentless, surging thrusts, feeling waves of pleasure rising and falling. Her voluptuous body swayed like a willow in a storm, her mouth parched, her cherry lips parted slightly, releasing a trickle of saliva. Her breasts, like jade rabbits, swayed rhythmically with each thrust. When the passion subsided, she collapsed onto his broad, strong chest, feeling she had found the dream home she had so longed for. "Who are you?" she asked, expecting a perfect answer. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her hair; he was grabbing her long, black hair. She saw his cold, piercing gaze. "Never ask me who I am, understand? When you know who I am, that will be the end of our relationship." Tears streamed down her smooth, white cheeks as she nodded gently. He pushed her away, leaving her trembling in the desolate wind. After that, in Hundred Flowers Valley and Lotus Residence, she and he were inseparable, no longer concerning themselves with the affairs of the martial world. He would sometimes be out at night and stay away for days at a time, and she would always prepare meals and sit alone on the Waiting-for-Husband Cliff, gazing at his returning figure. That day, she had just finished washing clothes at the Washing Silk Stream and was about to go back when a pair of strong arms embraced her from behind. She used a "lazy man's dressing" move to untie herself and turned around to see her former lover, the "playboy" Tan Qing. Her face immediately changed, and she snapped, "How did you know I was here? Show some respect!" Tan Qing chuckled, "Good sister, I smelled your fragrance from afar. It's been so long, why are you being so distant with your brother? Come here, good sister, let's get intimate." He then leaned closer.

She stumbled back several steps, shouting, "I'm not the He Yunfang I used to be! You'd better leave."
Tan Qing looked at her coldly and said, "What cat won't eat fish? Don't pretend to be so righteous with me. Let me see if my skills in bed have improved." He reached out with one hand, aiming straight for her chest.
He Yunfang threw the clothes in her hand at Tan Qing with a powerful, swift motion.
Tan Qing dodged with a swift movement; "Shadow Shift" was his family's secret technique. But at that moment, he suddenly felt a strong killing intent coming from behind him. Cold sweat broke out on his back. This killing intent enveloped him, making him afraid to move.
The beautiful young woman in front of him, whose face had been as cold as ice, smiled radiantly, as if she had seen a relative. She rushed forward. Suddenly, she stopped. She saw a cold face, a face filled with disgust and contempt.
She cried out, "I don't know how he got here, really! You have to believe me." She hurriedly explained, "Tell me quickly, how did you know this place?" At this moment, she fixed her gaze intently on Tan Qing, her beautiful eyes filled with expectation and hope.
Tan Qing chuckled and said, "Didn't you teach me to come here? Otherwise, how would I know such a hidden place?"
He noticed that she cared a lot about the person behind him, and he became extremely jealous.
He Yunfang's face was full of despair, her helpless eyes watching the familiar figure disappear into the distance.
She angrily said, "Why did you lie? Why is my life so bitter?" She thought she had found true love, but she never expected that happiness would be so fleeting.
She beckoned sadly to Tan Qing, saying, "Come here, didn't you want to be intimate with me?" Tan Qing knew her martial arts were inferior to his, and didn't care about her erratic behavior. When he took three steps closer to her, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his feet, and his blood seemed to freeze. He could no longer move.
She coldly said in his ear, "This is called 'Heaven and Earth Soul-Searching Needle,' how does it feel? Hahahaha." Her laughter was somewhat manic, but mostly filled with loss and grievance. Then she collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face.
When she awoke, the shadows of flowers swayed outside the window, and the wind howled through the pine forest. She was surprised to see her beloved sitting beside her.
Although his handsome face was as stern as ever, she was still so happy she almost fainted. He touched her haggard face and said, "You haven't eaten for three days and three nights. Have some soup. I brought this from Wang's Tangyuan Shop in Qinglong Town." She trembled with excitement, unable to believe it was real or a dream.
Life returned to normal afterward, and she carefully attended to him. Life with him was perfect and real; she never wanted to lose him again.
That day, she felt a surge of life within her. She stood happily on the cliff edge, waiting for his return. She wanted to tell him he was going to be a father; she was carrying their child.
Even now, she remembered his expression then—doubt, unease, contempt, and indifference. He pinched her chin with one hand, and a sharp pain made her feel as if she could hear her cheekbone dislocating.
She heard him murmur, "A child? You have a child? Whose is it? A woman like you can have a child?"
A chill ran through her. In his eyes, she was no different from the prostitutes in the Mingyu Fang brothel along the Qinhuai River—just a prostitute available to anyone.
As his fleeting figure gradually disappeared from the hazy view, she cried out and spat out a mouthful of thick blood.
At that moment, the mountain wind was strong, and the hem of her thin skirt fluttered in the swirling yellow leaves by the Peach Blossom Pool.
She heard light footsteps behind her, and her face instantly lit up. Turning around, she saw a woman in yellow. She was holding the hand of a child, her son Nianlang, and the woman in yellow was her own sister, He Yunfen.
"Sister, it's been so many years! Why are you wearing red? Didn't you always prefer white?" He Yunfen asked curiously.
"Sister, he likes me in red. He said I look more beautiful in red," He Yunfen said, her face filled with happy reverie.
Suddenly, she cried out in anguish, "How did this sword end up with you? Where is he?" When she saw the willow-floss sword at her sister's waist, she paled—the last time they parted, he had asked her for her protective soft sword, the 'Willow-Floss Sword'.
Remembering the mocking saying, "The sword is the man, the man dies when the sword is lost," her face twitched, and her body swayed as if all her strength had left her.
He Yunfen supported her swaying body and asked, "I was just about to ask you, who is he? How did this sword end up in Yu Xiangdong's body? He came to me because of this sword, did you know that?"
Yu Xiangdong, known as the Immortal Dragon, became the leader of the Beggars' Sect, dominating the world with his Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms and Tiger-Taming Fist, yet he died at her hands. She couldn't help but feel a surge of pride, "So he's not dead! Then where is he?
Does he know I'm waiting for him here?"
Before her eyes, the mountains and fields were covered in golden yellow, chrysanthemums in full bloom, but her heart had already flown to the distant, boundless sky.
Chapter Four
Every autumn, the area behind Ziyun Manor is ablaze with red, as red as fire, as vibrant as the morning glow.
Crimson maple leaves dance in the air, drifting away on the autumn wind. At this moment, a young woman held a maple leaf in her hand. She gently blew on it, and the leaf slowly fell into the bleak wind. She murmured, "Alone I climb the high tower, gazing to the ends of the earth..." Her voice was hesitant, carrying an indescribable loneliness and desolation. She slowly raised her head, her beautiful face filled with longing and adoration.
She was incredibly wealthy, richer than a nation. Her husband was the renowned martial arts master, the "Invincible Swordsman" Liu Sheng Liu, and her family was the prestigious Murong family, one of the four great martial arts clans. What more could she ask for? Why, then, did her eyes, gazing at the distant mountains, fill with sorrow? In her eyes, she seemed to see the figure of a dancer again, graceful and elegant, his handsome face and slightly magnetic voice appearing so frequently in her dreams that she often forgot she was already a married woman!
That day, he handed her a maple leaf. “Every maple leaf holds its own untold secrets, containing the story of its entire life. The winding veins tell a story of a difficult path, and even if the end is always the same—turning to dust—it still has its own beautiful moment, brief yet memorable.”
She would never forget his words. She didn't know if he was talking about himself, but she didn't need to know; a moment of tenderness was enough. In the dead of night, his gentle hand would often wipe away the tears from her eyes. Tears of longing flowed like a river, overflowing the boundless darkness and rushing towards her.
The vast expanse of Taihu Lake was breathtakingly beautiful, and a small boat drifted along with the current. Murong Xue, dressed in black, looked solemn, her pretty face as cold as ice. Behind her were her two maids, Ruyue and Rushuang. This trip back to her parents' home was for a funeral.
Her brother-in-law, Nangong Hao, was killed by an assassin at the gate of the Murong family home in Suzhou when he accompanied his wife there. A red dot appeared between his brows when he died, the result of a sword strike, demonstrating the power of the assassin's blow. Nangong Hao hadn't even managed to draw his Cicada Wing Sword in time, and his world-renowned Meteor Butterfly Sword Technique hadn't even been executed once before he was dead.
This incident caused a sensation throughout the martial arts world, spreading like wildfire. For a time, the assassin was portrayed as a superhuman figure with three heads and six arms. Especially noteworthy was the fact that the assassin had calmly taken Nangong Hao's head and even casually took his family heirloom, the Cicada Wing Sword, with him before leaving.
When Murong Xue returned home, the house was crowded with people; the martial arts practitioners who had come to mourn her were all filled with grief. She entered the inner room and saw her eldest sister, Murong Qiu, weeping uncontrollably, her expression dejected. Her elder sister, a scholar who had never practiced martial arts, was quite knowledgeable in astrology, divination, and the art of divination, yet she had never imagined her own fate would be so tragic. She embraced her younger sister, sobbing uncontrollably, blaming herself, "If I had known this would happen, I should have learned martial arts; I wouldn't have just watched your brother-in-law be stabbed to death."
Murong Xue, also in tears, comforted her, "Losing and being injured are inevitable in the martial world, sister. Please accept my condolences." She couldn't think of any way to soothe her sister's wounded heart.
"I will definitely find the murderer and avenge my brother-in-law!" Seeing her sister's unbearable pain, she gritted her teeth and vowed revenge. Inside the hall, the members of the Murong family were filled with righteous indignation. The embarrassing scene of the murderer calmly escaping from their own doorstep meant they would inevitably be ridiculed in the future. Meanwhile, Nangong Xiong of the Nangong family sat quietly in a corner of the hall, vaguely sensing that the murderer was still in Suzhou. Although his younger brother wasn't the top fighter in the Nangong family, he was completely outmatched; the assassin's martial arts were truly terrifying.
If the Nangong family didn't find their true opponent, they would face endless trouble. Ostensibly, they were there to escort their mother's coffin back to Luoyang, but more importantly, they were to find the mastermind behind it all.
Hanshan Temple, located in the western suburbs outside the city gate of Suzhou, was originally named Miaopuming Pagoda Temple, but it became famous because of Zhang Ji's poem "A Night Mooring by Maple Bridge" from the Tang Dynasty. At this moment, a young man in white stood upright on Maple Bridge, reciting with rhythm: "The moon sets, crows cry, frost fills the sky; river maples and fishing lights reflect my sorrowful sleep."
After a while, he looked up at the flock of crows flying around the bell tower and the half-set sun, and said softly, "You finally found me! You truly deserve to be the renowned Murong of Gusu, so powerful, so powerful!" He could deeply feel the aggressive killing intent behind him.
Without turning his head, he said, "Years ago, Hanshan asked Shide: 'If someone in the world slanders me, deceives me, insults me, laughs at me, belittles me, or despises me, how should I deal with it?' Shide smiled and said, 'Just endure him, avoid him, let him be, let him do as he pleases, be patient with him, respect him, and ignore him. After a few years, you'll see what becomes of him.' In these past few years, I've traveled the world and gradually come to understand the Zen principles behind this. What do you say, Mr. Murong?"
Murong Wanli's long beard fluttered in the autumn twilight, and all he could see was an exceptionally handsome young man, hardly the fearsome assassin he once was. Over the years, a young man in white robes has appeared in the martial world, his attacks fierce and ruthless, never missing a target. Wherever he goes, cries of agony follow, and many call him the Grim Reaper of the martial world. As
the sun sets and the evening breeze rises, the young man slowly turns around. His sculpted face is calm and serene, as if he were facing a long-lost friend, not a renowned martial arts master. He says indifferently, "You've come to kill me, have
n't you? Mr. Murong, seeing is believing. How about I experience the 'using their own methods against them' technique of the Murong family of Gusu?" Murong Wanli shakes his head, saying, "You're just an assassin, only interested in money. Just reveal the mastermind, and you can leave unscathed." The young man before him is exceptionally handsome, the most outstanding gentleman he has ever seen in this chaotic world. He is filled with admiration for his talent and desires to recruit him.
The young man smiled slightly, a smile as radiant as spring blossoms. Murong Wanli's heart skipped a beat, his murderous intent vanishing instantly, replaced by overwhelming fear.
To dispel murderous intent with a smile—this soul-capturing technique was one of the five supreme skills of the Demonic Sect, passed down from Hong Fu Nu, one of the Three Heroes of the late Sui and early Tang dynasties. It could subdue enemies with a mere smile, and was traditionally only taught to important disciples of the sect. Therefore, he was facing not just an assassin, but a top master of the Demonic Sect!
Murong Wanli, recalling the Demonic Sect's past vicious methods, channeled the Purple Star Heart Sutra throughout his body, his face glowing with a deep purple aura. He said, "I never imagined your sect would rise again, producing such a young master as you. However, my Gusu Murong has no grudge against your sect, so why have you come to kill my son-in-law?" Given the young man's swift and decisive killing of Nangong Hao, Murong Wanli dared not underestimate him.
The young man averted his piercing gaze from Murong Wanli's face and said, "Mr. Murong, you are not my target. This killing of Nangong Hao has nothing to do with the Murong family, please don't have any doubts. Nangong Hao once insulted my Bright God Sect, I was just following orders." He then gave a slight bow, his figure blurred, and in an instant, he disappeared into the depths of the maple forest, his speed astonishing.
Murong Wanli stood there for a long time, crows flying wildly, the twilight heavy, his heart churning like waves, he sighed: "The demonic sound has reappeared, the martial world will be in turmoil from now on. What will become of the Murong family?"
Footsteps came from afar, it was his eldest son Murong Bai leading men, and he asked: "Father, where is Second Sister? Didn't she say she was coming to Hanshan Temple to find you?"
Murong Wanli's face changed, he said anxiously: "Oh no, we mustn't let him run into her." But the thing he feared most had indeed happened...
Amidst the falling red leaves, Murong Xue was attacking with unparalleled power and speed. The young man before her was the legendary murderer! Her family's Lotus Finger technique had never been used so skillfully. The irritating sound of the flute filled her ears, rising and falling like waves, one higher than the next.
This was the first time she had encountered such an opponent since her debut, using the flute to fight, forcing her to divert her attention. Gradually, her grip weakened, and she grew increasingly fearful. The young man before her moved with the grace of a Bagua master, yet with effortless ease. The flute music seemed to possess immense power, sometimes as calm as a vast ocean, sometimes surging like a monstrous wave, shaking the very soul. One moment it was fiery passion, the next as cold as ice, creating dramatic shifts within stillness, displaying the utmost versatility. Murong Xue, caught in its maelstrom, was truly suffering.
After a few more moments, she was drenched in sweat and panting heavily.
Suddenly, the young man's lips left the jade flute, he let out a long whistle, and retreated three zhang away with the fluidity of flowing water. He watched quietly, his eyes filled with a tender and loving expression. Murong Xue could no longer stand; she swayed and fell into his arms.
"You're a devil! You're an incurable devil!" Murong Xue's eyes were alluring, her languid face radiating an indescribable charm. In a state of half-anger, she once again reached the peak of desire.
The beloved wife of the martial arts alliance leader was now lying in the arms of a young man, who was groping her. Murong Xue's body felt as soft as cotton, bathed in the sunlight of love. She had never imagined that sex could be so wonderful and magical. The passion within her burned like fire, the scalding hot rod between her legs intensely stimulating her usual elegance and composure.
Before him, she lost all composure; she surrendered to his fierce and almost frenzied thrusts, her whole body trembling and convulsing. A strange kind of bewilderment appeared on her helpless face. For the first time since her marriage, she had experienced a forbidden pleasure, something she could not obtain with her husband.
Liu Sheng, known as the "Number One Gentleman Swordsman of the Martial World," became the most famous swordsman in the land at a young age. In his early career, he single-handedly stormed the Zhenwu Formation of Wudang Mountain with only a Qinggang sword, later defeating the Three Talents Swordplay of the Qingcheng Sect. He was refined and cultured, yet his swordsmanship was ruthless and unparalleled in its power, following a purely masculine path. At the age of thirty, on the Sunrise Peak of Mount Tai, he conquered the assembled martial arts masters with his unparalleled swordsmanship, establishing his dominance in the martial world.
It was on this day that he met Murong Xue. That day, her hair was piled high, adorned with a jade hairpin, her face like a lotus blossom, and her eyes, bright as autumn water, shone beneath her arched eyebrows. She wore a lake-green floor-length dress, a slender pale yellow belt loosely tied at her waist, making her appear peerless, charming, and utterly beautiful—a natural wonder. He was captivated. If anyone in this world could defeat him, there was only one person: her! Only she could make him lower his proud head.
"I've long heard that the three Murong sisters of Gusu are renowned for their beauty, and indeed, their reputation is well-deserved." The young man deeply kissed Murong Xue's warm, cherry-like lips, her mouth exhaling a delicate fragrance. "Small hills overlap, gold gleams and fades, her hair like clouds drifting across her snowy cheeks. Sister, you are a beauty, why did you become a traitor?" His eyes, hidden beneath his long eyebrows, shimmered with a hazy beauty.
"I only regret that we couldn't meet before I was married, I only hoped to have more time together, are you really leaving?"
As dusk approached, a wisp of sunset faded in the west, darkness like a bat emerging from its burrow gnawing at the remaining light, the sky, its neck severed by sharp teeth, spraying the color of black blood, the slightly withered late autumn always carrying a lingering sorrow of parting.
"Entering without a word, departing without farewell, riding the returning wind, carrying cloud banners.
Sorrow is greatest in parting from loved ones, joy is greatest in meeting new friends."
The young man's sword dance was like an eagle soaring through the heavens, surveying the world with disdain. His swordplay was sometimes gentle and slow, sometimes heavy and clumsy; in the flowing movements, he seemed to be writing his own life story with his sword.
"The sword dance startles the waves, lightly touching the willow catkins shrouded in mist.
The wind suddenly blows, petals fall, and flowers rise, like a zither turning, composing a beautiful poem."
Two hot tears rolled down Murong Xue's beautiful face. This parting—would they ever meet again in this life?
Chapter Five:
At the foot of Yinshan Mountain, a few palaces stood. The ancient temple was small, but its architecture was exquisite, resplendent in gold and green.
A man and a woman rested in the main hall. The man, dressed in blue, was as elegant as a jade tree in the wind; the woman, dressed in white, was like a celestial being—truly a pair of beautiful women.
The man said, "Sister, look at these murals, they're incredibly lifelike, no less impressive than the paintings in our collection."
The woman seemed thoughtful, then said, "Yes, brother. Why hasn't he come yet? These past few years, he's been coming and going like the wind, practically playing hide-and-seek with us." Her young face bore the marks of time, and a faint sadness lingered in her beautiful eyes.
"That kid wouldn't stay comfortably at home; he insisted on venturing into the martial world. He said he wanted to test his skills across the land, and these past few years he's stirred up quite a storm in the martial arts world. The headquarters has summoned him back this time for an important mission." The man smiled slightly, clearly quite familiar with the woman.
"Yes, I've been asking Dad to bring him back for a while, but he's biased towards him. He says it's good for young people to get more experience, and that I should mind my own business. Honestly." Her words clearly showed her dissatisfaction with her father.
“Father is right. Besides, he's doing this for Mother. Do you expect Aunt to be out here at her age, enduring the elements?”
“That’s true, but I’m so sad not to see him for so long. Brother, don’t you miss him too?”
“Yes, it’s been so long since we sparred. Has his ‘focus on one point, ignore the rest’ sword technique improved?”
“Haha, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Brother Yun. My swordsmanship has regressed instead of improved. I can’t figure it out. I’m just about to ask the experts.” A young man in white robes walked out from behind the hall. He was handsome and elegant, with a charming smile on his lips.
The man smiled and opened his arms, embracing the young man in white robes tightly. It had been three years since they last saw each other.
The woman stood quietly to the side, her beautiful eyes gazing intently at the young man in white robes. Her lips were tightly pursed, and her slender hands gently twisted the green silk sash at her waist. As she watched him slowly walk towards her, two streams of tears welled up in her eyes.
The young man in white gently wiped away her tears with his sleeve, saying, "Sister, don't cry. What's wrong? I'll avenge you." He then stepped back a few paces, carefully observing her graceful figure. "Sister, you've really grown up, become a young lady."
The woman seemed about to throw herself into his arms, but she restrained herself, her cherry lips trembling slightly. At that moment, she thought to herself, "I've finally seen him again. He hasn't changed; he's still my forever Feng-ge." The years of trials and tribulations in the martial world seemed to have left no trace on him; his smile was still as radiant as the sun. Watching their retreating figures as they walked out of the hall, she couldn't help but burst into tears.
This woman was named Chu Yu, and the man was her elder brother, Chu Yun. The three of them, along with the young man in white, had been childhood sweethearts and shared a deep bond.
"The sect leader is going into seclusion to cultivate his skills and has ordered the two of us to protect him. We must set off immediately and arrive before dawn," Chu Yun relayed the sect leader's order. He and the white-robed youth Wei Feng were known as the Wind and Cloud Messengers of the Church of Light. Their families had been on good terms for
generations, and they were the pillars of the Church of Light. While their family backgrounds undoubtedly contributed to their high positions at such a young age, both Wei Feng and Chu Yu were unparalleled geniuses within the sect. Wei Feng, in particular, possessed an extraordinary understanding of martial arts.
He debuted at thirteen and single-handedly killed Yue Lingfeng, the top martial arts master of the Huashan Sect, on the road to Luoyang. However, apart from important figures within the sect, no one knew he was the killer, making him one of the four great mysteries of the martial arts world.
"Brother Yun, did my mother give any instructions? You've taken good care of her these past few years."
"You're too kind. Your mother is my mother too. These past few years, my sister has been attending to her.
Alas…" Chu Yun sighed thoughtfully, his voice filled with endless worry.
His sister, Chu Yu, had been deeply in love with Wei Feng since childhood, a fact known to everyone in the sect. However, their father, Chu Tianshu, had already arranged a marriage between Chu Yu and Lu Shaodong of White Camel Manor when Chu Yu was still an infant, betrothing Chu Yu to Lu Shaodong's youngest son, Lu Xu. This became a pain that Chu Yu could never erase from her heart. In recent years, Chu Yu's smiles have become increasingly indifferent with age, and now it's rare to see her with her radiant smile, let alone hear her clear, melodious laughter.
"So these past few years, I've tried to wander outside as much as possible. Firstly, I hope that the passage of time will ease Yu's worries, and secondly, my mother is getting old and no longer able to enforce the laws of the sect. It's only right for a son to share his mother's burdens." Wei Feng looked at Chu Yu standing gracefully by the stone lion in front of the main hall, and a feeling of tenderness welled up in his heart.
Chu Yun sighed, "Brother Feng, if matters of the heart could fade away with the passage of time, there would be far fewer lovesick men and women in the world."
Wei Feng teased, "Haha, Brother Yun seems to have some insights into this." Chu Yun smiled faintly, beckoned to Chu Yu, who stood gracefully in the wind, and the three of them leaped onto their horses, whipping them away.
The sound of hooves faded into the endless yellow dust.
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"Great use is outwardly manifested, true essence is inwardly abundant. Returning to emptiness and entering wholeness, accumulating strength to become mighty. Possessing all things, traversing the vast sky. Desolate clouds, sparse winds. Transcending the form, attaining the center of the circle. Holding it is not forceful, but endlessly abundant."
In the Bright Moon Pavilion, Qin Jiang, dressed in black with a light veil covering her face, could not conceal the innate charm that emanated from her.
“Feng’er, through this training, you have reached the level of a first-rate master. Your mother is very happy. However, whether improving your martial arts is a good thing or a bad thing is hard to say.”
As she spoke, she wrote furiously on the crimson desk. Wei Feng knelt on a prayer mat, the wooden fish in front of him opening its mouth as if it had something to say. In recent years, his mother had devoted herself to studying Buddhism and had gradually withdrawn from the affairs of the sect, but he knew that his mother had unspeakable difficulties, which could be seen in her usually elegant and calm eyes.
“You have always had a talent for martial arts. This is the mental technique that your father taught me, ‘The Yangtze River flows mightily, a thousand miles of path.’ Your mother’s cultivation is limited, and I can no longer help you much. The path is sought on the road. You must take care of yourself.”
Qin Jiang’s words contained a faint sadness and helplessness, and she gazed at Wei Feng’s face with boundless love.
Wei Feng's bright eyes, as clear as autumn water, held a hint of confusion. "Mother, I will certainly strive to live up to your teachings."
"It's an honor for our Wei family that the sect leader has summoned you to protect him." A proud expression involuntarily appeared on his face.
Qin Jiang sighed, "For ten years, Sect Leader Helian has been preoccupied with martial arts, neglecting sect affairs. Power has fallen into Zhou Jian's hands. Who knows what fortune or misfortune awaits us in summoning you back to protect us?"
She gently stroked Wei Feng's bewildered face, "As an elder of the Holy Sect's enforcement system, I should have been dedicated to cleansing the sect of its corruption. But now, the sect is declining, and its old members have scattered. These past few years, I've made excuses to retire to the Bright Moon Pavilion, but what's meant to happen will happen."
"Mother, what's going on? I don't understand. Wasn't Vice Sect Leader Zhou always loyal to the Holy Sect?" Wei Feng was increasingly confused.
Zhou Jian had been framed by his enemies in the Dabie Mountains, and on the verge of death, it was Helian, the leader of the sect, who rescued him, recruited him into the sect, and promoted him repeatedly, making him the vice-leader in just ten years—clearly the only candidate for the next leader.
"Life is unpredictable, 'the storm is brewing.' Feng'er, you and Chu Yun have been friends since childhood. I hope you can overcome this difficulty together. Even if I die, I will die with a smile."
Wei Feng was shocked and rushed forward to embrace Qin Jiang's slender waist. "Why does Mother utter such ominous words? Even if there are a thousand hardships, your child will be with you." A strange restlessness and unease gripped his heart. He let out a long howl, his killing intent rising.
"Feng'er, only when you can control your inner energy, your heart as clear as the blue sky, letting the wind and moon roam freely, will you truly have entered the hall of martial arts." " If anything happens to me, there's a temple called Shangquan Temple about thirty miles northwest. Go there and find Master Wuchen. With his instruction, your martial arts and cultivation will improve by leaps and bounds."
"Mother, why be so stubborn? At worst, we can retire from the martial world and live a carefree life."
"Look at your childish talk. I am an elder of the sect, and I swore to die with the sect. How can I retreat in the face of danger?
Feng'er, you are resolute and decisive, so I'm not too worried. Your father mysteriously disappeared outside Yumen Pass while searching for the long-lost Sacred Flame Token, his fate unknown. If his body hadn't been found, I would have followed him to the underworld for years. Is he lonely and desolate in the afterlife?" Qin Jiang's gaze seemed to transcend time, fixed on the misty clouds over the distant mountains.
"Mom, don't you still have me? I am your closest relative." Wei Feng wept uncontrollably; years of wandering the martial world had not diminished his deep affection for his family. "
Feng'er, you are my only remaining attachment in this world! What is death? Death is the fulfillment of merit, the liberation of self. Have you forgotten the sacred teachings?"
"Yes, I have not forgotten." Wei Feng bowed deeply, accepting the teachings. "What joy is there in life, what sorrow in death? Pity us mortals, for we suffer so much." Qin
Jiang's expression was solemn and grave as she clasped her hands and chanted. The cicadas outside the window mingled with the chanting, making Wei Feng feel a chill, as if he were in an endless snowfield, watching water chestnuts bloom and fall in the cold winter moonlight.
************
Loneliness sometimes solidifies into emptiness; even the finest dust can stir loneliness in dreams. In that void, she desperately searched for a face. That face bloomed like spring flowers in her heart, but she dared not touch it, fearing it would shatter like the moon in a mirror or a flower in water, unable to be savored as it was before her.
"What joy is there in life, what sorrow in death?" Boundless longing, like a cold river, swept over her. She cherished every day spent with him; the passing years were so important to her that she lingered beneath his window every night.
"The stars are not those of last night; for whom do I stand in the wind and dew at midnight?" Her pitiful eyes, like dewdrops and stars, adorned the desolate night sky above Mingyue Pavilion.
Her father's words during the day, like a sharp knife, mercilessly pierced her fragile heart: "Yu'er, in three days, White Camel Manor will come to offer their betrothal gifts, and you will be a bride."
Through tear-blurred eyes, a gentle concern made her tremble: "Sister, it's so late, why aren't you resting? What's troubling you? I'll help you." She threw herself into his arms, her youthful fragrance mingling with the scent of magnolia blossoms, making the still night seem even more intoxicating.
"Take me away, Brother Feng. I'll be with you to the ends of the earth." Her tone held unwavering determination and deep affection.
"Sister, you know this is impossible. Life is full of disappointments, don't be too sad. I'll definitely come to see you when I have time." Wei Feng gently patted her trembling shoulders, wet with tears. The unbearable longing had etched a shadow of her former innocence onto her increasingly gaunt face, replaced by a deep sorrow and melancholy. "I
lament the separation and reunion of the blue clouds, the rise and fall of the bluebird. I face the wind in despair, my heart a single point, my brows two leaves, how can I bear this idle sorrow? My feelings are beyond words, I entrust them to the eastward flowing river."
Tears streamed down Chu Yu's delicate, fair face, her cherry lips trembling. Tonight we meet, but the future seems uncertain. When will we meet again? "Brother, I'll give it to you. Will you remember me in the days to come?" "
Her body fragrance was like musk, alluring and captivating, like dewdrops at night, her face radiant. A slight sting, a soft cry, by the red reeds on the water, spring's beauty was boundless. Chu Yu raised her golden lotus high, her jade legs draped over Wei Feng's shoulders, gently welcoming him.
Wei Feng's large penis moved in and out slowly, deliberately tenderly, its depths rippling with waves of passion. The two lovers, so infatuated, made love passionately in the still of the night, even the moonlight shyly hidden behind a dark cloud. Chu Yu's occasional soft moans and gasps were like heavenly music, like divine pronouncements, each sound resonating in Wei Feng's heart. The woman beneath him was his greatest love. If the women of the past were merely passing through his lovemaking, then Chu Yu was the only one for him in this life.
Chapter Six:
The headquarters of the Church of Light was located on Bright Peak, a magnificent structure built over generations, with towering buildings and grand halls stretching for miles. " It was built two hundred years ago by Hai Batian, the first leader of the sect who founded the sect here, according to the Bagua formation inherited from Zhuge Liang of the Western Shu Kingdom
during the Three Kingdoms period. Later, during the Zhenguan era of the Tang Dynasty, Gongsun Zhi, the most skilled craftsman of the time, poured his heart and soul into its construction, and after more than thirty years of refinement, it was further supplemented, thus becoming an invincible structure for all time. Righteous sects have launched more than ten joint attacks on Bright Peak over the centuries. All attempts failed, resulting in heavy losses, demonstrating the sect's impregnability.
However, the previous leader, Shangguan Chun, was weak and incompetent, neglecting the sect's affairs and causing its once-great Glory Sect to crumble. Its branches across the land were destroyed by righteous forces, and the sect never recovered. Under the current leader, Helian Xinshu, however, he has been diligent and hardworking, and his martial arts have flourished. The Glory Sect has gradually regained its vitality under his leadership. Although it has not yet made a name for itself in the martial world, it boasts numerous masters and talented individuals, reaching its zenith.
In recent years, Helian Xinshu has diligently practiced the "Heavenly Gang Absolute Fiend Divine Skill," reaching the eighth level. This achievement is rare, except for the sixth leader, Zhao Shiyan, who created the skill and reached the ninth level. No one in the sect has ever reached the seventh level. Helian Xinshu, while having received guidance from a renowned master and working diligently himself, has only reached the eighth level, a feat truly a gift from heaven. He is exceptionally gifted and utterly obsessed with martial arts; the Golden Chest Stone Chamber of Ningyan Pavilion is filled with martial arts manuals he acquired through trickery, force, and theft.
Wei Feng's greatest dream is to enter this sacred hall of martial arts, to glimpse the essence of the sect's past martial arts masters, but this remains an unattainable dream, for only the sect leader is qualified to enter.
Wei Feng stood silently for a long time, imagining the demeanor of the sages, lost in thought, unaware that someone had quietly approached from behind.
"Brother Feng, what are you thinking about? The sect leader's time to enter the seclusion has arrived; let's go in." The newcomer was his close friend, Chu Yun, dressed in a lake-blue robe, appearing even more elegant and refined in the wind. "I heard you also obtained the Nangong family's treasured Cicada Wing Sword; may I see it?" “
Of course, I can give it to you.” Wei Feng said as he untied the thin sword from his waist and handed it to him. The two chatted and walked until they reached the entrance of Ningyan Pavilion.
Hanging vines, strangely shaped rocks, and lush pine trees lined the hillsides, with several clear springs cascading down from the cliffs, creating a melodious sound—truly a secluded retreat, a blessed land.
Inside the building, they could faintly hear voices, their tones high-pitched and impassioned—it was none other than the voice of the sect leader, Helian Xinshu. Wei Feng and Chu Yun exchanged a glance, both seeing the bewilderment and confusion in each other's eyes. For someone of Helian Xinshu's stature to dare to be so insolent before him was unprecedented in decades.
"Sect Leader," said Zhou Jian, his voice soft yet clear, "Zhou Jian only offered a small contribution to the Holy Sect, yet it has caused so much misunderstanding and incomprehension among the brothers. I never imagined these rumors would reach your ears. Your ears are far too thin."
"Heh heh, all these years you've purged dissidents and cultivated your cronies, did you really think I, Helian Xinshu, didn't know?" The two men's tempers flared as they spoke, and Wei Feng and Chu Yun rushed through the gate.
The scene before them was unbelievable. The Helian Sect Leader clutched his chest, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, seemingly seriously injured.
His wife, Fan Xiaoman, stood gracefully to the side, coldly watching them, as if the whole affair was none of her concern.
Wei Feng and Chu Yun stood on either side of the Helian Sect Leader, glaring angrily at Zhou Jian, clearly harboring treacherous intentions and plotting to usurp the throne.
Helian Xinshu was overjoyed to see them. He pointed with his right hand and said, "Kill this traitor, cleanse my Mingzun of corruption!" Before he finished speaking, Wei Feng and Chu Yun were already in mid-air, their swords combined, aimed directly at Zhou Jian's vitals.
Zhou Jian shook his arms, a gust of cold wind blowing towards them, chilling them to the bone and filling the room with icy cold.
The two, Feng and Yun, recognized the danger and leaped through the air, but their movements remained steadfast, their swords still pointing towards the center, unyielding.
Zhou Jian roared, "Even a grain of rice can shine! Go, you bastard!" He unleashed a flurry of punches, shattering Wei Feng's longsword into several pieces and pulverizing his right sleeve. Only Chu Yun, wielding the precious Cicada Wing Sword, remained unharmed, though his blood surged within him, rendering him speechless.
"Discard your sword and admit defeat, and I will spare your life," Zhou Jian said in a deep voice. These two were also top experts of the Holy Sect, and he was currently lacking such talent, so he couldn't help but consider recruiting them.
Wei Feng's hands flashed, revealing a short dagger with dazzling brilliance, clearly an ancient divine weapon.
He shouted, "Brother Yun, a gathering of heroes, dominating the world!" He leaped into the air, his attacks fierce, the air filled with a rain of swords. In an instant, Wei Feng had unleashed forty-nine moves, each one tightly linked to the next. He and Chu Yun, one attacking from above and the other from below, complemented each other perfectly, their coordination seamless, making them virtually invincible.
Just then, a sharp pain shot through his waist, followed by a gushing of blood—he had been struck by a sword. Wei Feng collapsed to the ground with a thud, rolling a few times before leaning against the wall, his face filled with disbelief.
"Why? Why? You betrayed me!..." His voice was filled with utter despair, brimming with sorrow and rage.
A pool of clear blood flowed from the tip of his cicada-wing sword. His face twitched. Was this his brother, with whom he had shared so much? They had been childhood playmates, sworn brothers! His eyes, blurred with tears from his severe injury, saw Chu Yun let out a long roar, his figure elegant, standing beside Zhou Jian, his face aloof and arrogant.
Wei Feng's imposing body swayed several times, and he cried out in a pained voice, "I understand... so that's how it is, so that's how it is."
"Brother Feng, you've been wandering the martial world for many years, and you've become unfamiliar with the affairs of the sect. Originally, we could have shared wealth and glory together, but it's just that Aunt Qin is too old-fashioned
. Leader Zhou has repeatedly advised her to adapt to the times and go with the flow, but she..." Wei Feng felt something most important within him slowly leaving his body. He was in a daze, his heart aching terribly, but wasn't his mother in imminent danger?
As Wei Feng fell backward, he heard Leader Helian's rough voice in his ears: "The ten-thousand-pound stone has been placed, let's perish together, hahaha..." In the distance, he saw Zhou Jian with his left arm around Fan Xiaoman's slender waist and his right hand holding Chu Yun's left sleeve, retreating through the air, graceful as a startled swan, gone like a shooting star, already leaping out of Ningyan Pavilion.
Immediately afterward, a loud bang followed, dust fell from the ceiling, and layers of the surrounding walls peeled away, filling the room with dust and smoke. Wei Feng fell unconscious.
Suddenly, Wei Feng felt a sharp pain in his philtrum. When he awoke, he saw a face with two sides, half black and half white, but the features were clear—it was Helian Xinshu.
"I have roamed the world for decades, killing and burning, and many innocent souls have perished under my feet. My death here is retribution. You have seen what happened today, so I will say no more. In a few hours, the name Helian Xinshu will be gone from the martial world."
The Helian Cult Leader was filled with vicissitudes, a feeling of a hero's decline and undiminished ambition washing over him. "Back when I became the leader, I married the most beautiful woman in the martial world. I was full of vigor and ambition, revitalizing the Holy Cult.
Alas..." He sighed deeply, his words filled with desolation and loneliness.
"With your martial arts skills, you are already a first-rate expert in our Holy Sect, but you still need to work hard to reach the top.
Now, close your eyes and rest, lie still and calmly. Remember, do not circulate your internal energy, no matter what happens." Wei Feng felt a burning and stinging pain at the Baihui acupoint on the top of his head, followed by a surge of blood and qi in his chest, which rapidly expanded as if about to burst.
He wanted to vomit, but couldn't. He felt his body rising into the air, in a state of ethereal emptiness, sometimes falling headfirst from the top, sometimes feeling as if he were in an ice cave, cold to the bone, sometimes feeling as if he were burning in flames, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. In this cycle of life and death, he fainted and woke up several times.
Sunlight streamed in through a crack in the dome, burning his pale face. Wei Feng groaned and opened his heavy eyelids. The sect leader, Helian, with his white hair and beard, lay on his blood-stained thigh, already dead. He held a piece of paper in his hand; whether the bright red words were written in his own blood or his was no longer important.
The words magnified in Wei Feng's eyes, becoming increasingly vivid, as if they were about to burst from the paper. His thoughts soared with those words; he felt a surge of passion burning within him. In that instant, his expression shifted dramatically, his mood unpredictable.
He suddenly stood up straight, arms outstretched, fists clenched, and roared. A howling wind and rain echoed through the golden chamber, piercing the sky and seemingly announcing to the world—someone was being reborn!
Although he knew this journey would inevitably lead to an ambush, he still went. There lay the person he loved most in this life, his only attachment in this world.
Pine and bamboo intertwined, a winding stream flowed, and in the distance, a majestic bell tower could be faintly seen, shrouded in mist. Towering cypress trees surrounded him, and the clear cries of cranes echoed from the ancient branches. Wildflowers and weeds filled the air, a gentle mist hung in the air, and a babbling brook flowed along the winding mountain path.
He stood before a mound of fresh earth for a long, long time. The mountain was silent, but his mother's voice and image seemed to linger. He suddenly said slowly, "You've come. Thank you for finding such a secluded place for my mother. The birds sing and the flowers bloom, quiet and elegant. Very good, very good." His tone was calm, devoid of any emotion. He looked up at the sky, which was hazy, with a few crows cawing in the blood-red twilight.
"I never imagined that we would meet on the battlefield today. It's no wonder we swore brotherhood at Helan Mountain!"
"Brother Feng, a wise man knows when to yield. If you're willing to surrender, we brothers can reunite and be as powerful as before. Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Chu Yun was secretly wary. Wei Feng exuded a menacing killing intent, as intense and chilling as a harsh winter.
He waved his hand lightly, and twelve men in tight-fitting clothes appeared behind him, holding long spears and with red tassels fluttering in their sleeves. The twelve men bowed and said, "Your subordinates, the Twelve Tiger-Taming Venerables, greet Envoy Feng. The headquarters has ordered that Envoy Feng return to report."
Wei Feng turned and gazed at Chu Yun's once-familiar face, still as proud and aloof as ever, but now he felt only nausea. The dull pain in his waist was nothing compared to the wound in his heart.
He said calmly, "Today, we sever all ties, and the Twelve Venerables will bear witness." With that, he swept his right leg horizontally, sending sand and rocks flying towards Chu Yun and the others with overwhelming force, forcing them to dodge.
In that instant, Wei Feng had already leaped backward, flying off the cliff.
Chapter Seven
This was a simple little temple, clearly neglected for a long time. The peeling red walls were already dilapidated, and the gilded signboard hanging askew at the front door was faded beyond recognition. Originally it should have been "Zhengquan Temple," but now it was only vaguely recognizable as "Shangquan Temple."
Wei Feng looked up and saw that the carved beams were covered in dust, a broken drum hung in the left corridor, and the bell in the right corridor was missing several corners. Cobwebs floated on the eaves, making it a desolate and lonely place.
"You've come, sit down!"
The voice was old, filled with the vicissitudes of time.
Wei Feng put his palms together, bowed deeply, and then silently knelt on the prayer mat opposite the old monk.
"When Lao Tzu was still a student, he went to ask his dying teacher, Chang Cong, for guidance. Chang Cong opened his mouth and asked Lao Tzu, 'What do you see?' Lao Tzu replied, 'I see a tongue.' Chang Cong then asked, 'Where are my teeth?' Lao Tzu answered, 'They are all gone.' Chang Cong said, 'That is what I will teach you last!' Lao Tzu ultimately understood the principle that softness can overcome hardness. Do you understand what I mean?"
Wei Feng said, "Master Wuchen, are you telling me not to be too strong?"
"Yes, strength is easily broken. When a hurricane passes, even the strongest rocks and sturdy pines are destroyed, but the grass beside them remains unharmed. That's because the grass is soft and yielding. You should take water as your teacher, and nature as your teacher!"
Wuchen reached out and patted his head. "Your mother, in a unique way, taught you Qimen Dunjia. Besides the five elements of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, she also taught you the color element, which utilizes the weaknesses of human nature." Add to that your unparalleled talent and elegance, and you're practically invincible. This action is truly against the will of Heaven, and I strongly opposed it back then.”
As Wuchen said this, his ears twitched slightly. “The pursuers are here. Feng'er, go. The world is full of storms; take care.”
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It was the height of summer, and the bright moon hung high in the sky. At
the foot of Wenyue Mountain stood a manor, surrounded by low pink walls. Behind the three or five elegant rooms was a willow-lined bank, and the grassy paths were lush and green. Several streams flowed endlessly around the walls, heading east.
At this moment, a small wooden door beside the bamboo grove opened, and a beautiful woman gracefully emerged.
Her phoenix eyes were hazy, and her eyebrows were lightly drawn. In the courtyard, peach and apricot blossoms vied for attention, and the clear sunlight poured down on the ground. But she let out a long sigh, as if she had endless worries weighing on her mind, unable to dispel them.
Suddenly, she shuddered, as if she had heard something, and quickly stood up. "No, it couldn't be him...
When will this torment end?"
With a graceful sway, she leaped onto a high branch of a willow tree. In the distance, she saw lights and the sounds of fighting. "Another battle in the martial world, alas, such endless turmoil. My love, my love, where are you? Do you know how I yearn for you day and night?" Her voice was mournful and desolate, evoking pity.
Then came a clear whistling sound. The whistling sound was weak, as if the person was seriously injured, but the voice was extremely familiar—it was the lover she longed for day and night!
She felt a wave of dizziness. Her lover was still so handsome and elegant, even surrounded by enemies, he was still carefree and at ease.
"Wei Feng, you have become an enemy of the martial world. Though the martial world is vast, there is no place for you. Come back to the main headquarters with me, and you will have a chance to survive." The speaker had a full beard and a fierce appearance. This man once roamed the northern frontier, renowned throughout the land for his pair of meteor hammers; he was known in the martial world as the "Werewolf of the Northern Desert."
"Uncle Jin Xing, I never imagined you would also join Zhou Jian. Don't you feel sorry for my father?" Jin Xing had been rescued by Wei Feng's father, Wei Tianhao, when he encountered a powerful enemy in the Taihang Mountains and was on the verge of death. He then recruited Wei Feng into the sect and became Wei Tianhao's old subordinate.
A trace of shame appeared on Jin Xing's originally dark face. Wei Feng, stained with blood, leaned against a withered old tree, his stubborn face still bearing the shadow of his father.
He sighed deeply and said, "Nephew, I have no choice. You know his methods. Now the lives of my entire family are in his hands. What can I do?"
Tears streamed down his face, and he sobbed uncontrollably. But amidst his weeping, he suddenly attacked, two cold beams of light whistling towards Wei Feng.
With two clangs, the two beams of light swiftly retreated back into Jin Xing's hand, only to be deflected by Wei Feng's longsword.
Wei Feng's sword strikes were merciless, each move more ruthless than the last, relentless and powerful, instantly overwhelming Jin Xing.
At this moment, a strong wind rose from behind, indicating an attack. He surrounded himself with sword energy, flicking his left middle finger to deflect the incoming attack. Turning around, he saw that all four of the sect's executioners had arrived.
Wei Feng was a born warrior; the stronger the enemy, the more ferocious he became. His sword danced like a thousand pear blossoms, his body like a graceful swan, sometimes striking pressure points with his fingers, sometimes striking with fists and kicks. Wherever his sword went, blood splattered, and screams of agony rang out. In the heat of the battle, Wei Feng let out a muffled groan, leaping out of the circle, clutching his chest—he had been struck by a powerful Vajra Palm.
He saw figures rushing towards him from all directions, and he laughed loudly, closing his eyes.
He then heard screams all around him, "Ah, poison needles!"
"Ouch, black needles, you shameless bastard!"
Immediately, a pair of slender hands pulled him into the air, followed by shouts and cries.
************
The capital city was indeed extraordinary.
Its magnificent buildings and elegant figures made it a place of power and intrigue.
Yuebai Tower, located in Jingmingfang outside the Donghua Gate of the capital, was a three-story building spanning five floors, all connected by flying bridges. It was the largest restaurant in the city.
The saying goes, "The city's taverns soar to the heavens, their dishes succulent and delicious.
Even a nobleman dismounts, intoxicated by the aroma, willing to spend a fortune on a single drink." At this moment, the sun is high in the sky, the tavern is filled with distinguished guests and learned men. A group of scholars, dressed as intellectuals, sit on the third floor,
engaging in lively conversation. They speak of the upcoming imperial examinations, each brimming with confidence, as if they have already ascended to the heavens, grasped the cassia branch, and are about to pass the examinations. Among them stands a man of imposing stature, who speaks eloquently and eloquently, quoting classical texts, clearly the leader of the group.
"Brother Qiu, your insightful remarks are truly admirable. But we wonder who the examiner for this year's imperial examination is? May we ask for your guidance?"
"You don't even know this? You're truly ignorant! This year's examination is personally overseen by His Majesty. If we pass, we'll be true disciples of the Emperor."
This man surnamed Qiu paused deliberately, coughing. "I'm not trying to keep you in suspense; guess."
"Could it be Duke Dingguo, Jian Guoyi? He personally presided over last year's examination."
"Ah, we heard it's Minister of Revenue, Lord Liu Fangde. Lord Liu is currently enjoying the Emperor's favor."
"I think it's the Hanlin Academy setting the questions, so it should be Zhao Zhuo, the Grand Secretary and concurrently the Hanlin Academy Director." The room erupted in chatter. "
Everyone, please stop arguing. Brother Qiu, please reveal your secrets to clear up our doubts."
Chou Qing deliberately cleared his throat leisurely, lightly waving a white pear-shaped fan with a moon-shaped jade handle in his left hand. With a "whoosh," it opened, revealing the inscription: "If I am fortunate enough to rise to prominence in the future, I will surely become a pillar of white jade supporting the sky." The calligraphy was vigorous and clear, seemingly about to burst from the paper.
"Gentlemen, you may not know, but the current Emperor is wise and powerful, and intends to reform the bureaucracy. He promotes the capable and demotes the incompetent. He once said, 'If you find the right person, you need not worry about poverty or lowliness; if you find the right talent, you need not be concerned about fame or reputation.' Therefore, even a commoner like me, Chou Qing, can rise to high office." His words clearly indicated his determination to pass this imperial examination.
"This time, the chief examiner is Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet, Grand Tutor of the Crown Prince, and Grand Chancellor Sun Bing, and the assistant examiners are Minister of Personnel Shi Yuyi. Gentlemen, let's get drunk tonight, and when we pass the imperial examination, let's have another drink together!" In no time, the wine was finished, and everyone dispersed to their lodgings.
An old man and a young man sat silently at the next table,
drinking their wine and gazing out the window at the blue sky and white clouds, seemingly indifferent to the others. After everyone had left, the two exchanged a smile, picked up their wine cups, and drank them down in one gulp.
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“Young Master, your sword wound hasn’t healed yet; you should rest more.”
The old man in gray was the same one who had been drinking at Yuebai Tower earlier. “As the saying goes, where there’s life, there’s hope. Young Master, we must avenge our blood feud.”
He was carefully peeling a layer of skin off the young man’s face; the young man was wearing a human skin mask.
The young man said, “Uncle Fu, once this matter is settled, go to Shijiazhuang, thirty miles north of here, and rest. Wait for my news.”
Uncle Fu in my memory always seemed to look the same: gray-robed and hunched over, always making people overlook his talent, especially his unparalleled skill in disguise, so lifelike and convincing.
Uncle Fu gazed intently at the young man's strikingly handsome face, then sighed, "Young Master, I fear I can no longer serve you. From now on, only I in the world know your appearance. I fear I will not be able to withstand the Holy Sect's Thirteen Tortures of Soul-Seizing and Exposing You." With that, he turned and handed the knife to the young man. "
Uncle Fu," the young man said, "if even you cannot be trusted in this world, then there is no joy in living. Besides, I will need you to recruit my old followers in the future. How can you leave me like this, how can you face my parents in the afterlife?"
Uncle Fu wept bitterly, knelt on both knees, and kowtowed three times deeply. With a flick of his hand, a spurt of blood shot out—he had cut off his own tongue.
This young man before him was someone he had watched grow up; for him, even the most gruesome punishment was nothing to fear.
The
night was cool and still. Qiu Qing, dressed in a blue robe, leaned against the railing, counting the stars in the sky. His heart was filled with boundless ambition; he would soon pass the imperial examinations, return home in glory, and bring honor to his ancestors. He spontaneously composed a line: "In the third month, when peach blossoms bloom, I will seize the robes and return to my hometown."
Soft applause came from behind him.
"Excellent poem! Excellent poem! Truly a talented scholar from Sichuan! Your words flow so smoothly, I admire you!"
Qiu Qing hurriedly turned around and was immediately terrified, breaking out in a cold sweat as if he had seen a ghost.
His whole body trembled with fear as he stammered, "Who are you? Who are you?" His voice was hoarse, unlike his own. He was usually a man of great eloquence, his voice loud and clear; he had never been so flustered.
"Who are you? I am Qiu Qing, a scholar from Xichuan, whose calligraphy is unconventional." The newcomer, dressed in a blue robe, spoke in a loud voice, just as carefree as ever.
In the still of the night, Qiu Qing could no longer support his limp body. He staggered backward, leaning against his desk, panting as he pointed at the newcomer. The person looked exactly like him, and the tone of voice and the arrogant demeanor were identical. The voice
clearly reached his ears: "You boast and talk big, but you're all talk and no action, empty-headed. To avoid disgracing the elders of Sichuan, I'll take your place in this imperial examination, how about that?"
Qiu Qing trembled, his pupils dilating, and slowly collapsed, silent.
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"The first rays of spring change the wind, the new sun replaces the old shade. Spring grass grows in the pond, garden willows become singing birds..." A charming smile, a soft voice, possessing a captivating and unparalleled elegance.
Seeing the sprouting grass, the unfurling willow branches, and the singing birds of early spring, she couldn't help but recite Xie Lingyun's poem, "Ascending the Tower by the Pond."
"My lady, it's rare to find you in such a leisurely mood today. Why didn't you invite me?"
A burly man embraced her from behind, his face filled with adoration and affection. "My lady, you smell so good."
The woman turned around and smiled, "What brings you here to keep me company today? The situation in the sect is still unstable, and affairs are busy. You should prioritize your career."
It turned out to be Zhou Jian, the newly appointed leader of the Church of Light, and the beautiful woman was Fan Xiaoman, the former leader's wife.
"Alas, I killed my husband, stole his wife, and plotted to usurp the throne, yet I can hardly win people's hearts. Now, three of the five hall masters are gone, and only Xiong Zhuang remains of the four elders. Heh heh, although Chu Tianshu helped me usurp the throne, he may not truly submit to me in his heart."
He sighed and kissed her fair face. "If Xin Shu hadn't discovered our affair, we wouldn't have needed to act prematurely. Alas... things are unpredictable; man proposes, God disposes."
"What, regretting it?" Fan Xiaoman pinched his cheek playfully. "It's also your fault for being too hasty. Now you have too many enemies, especially with Wei Feng gone; he's a formidable foe."
Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes were alluring, and her voice was sweet and coquettish—truly seductive to the bone.
Zhou Jian's lust was aroused, and his previously composed and stoic demeanor vanished.
He impatiently unbuttoned her blouse, then gently removed her embroidered bodice, revealing the pair of firm, jade-like breasts that had once made him drool, their two bright, luscious nipples trembling.
Zhou Jian grasped her breast with his left hand, sucking and kneading it vigorously, causing her head to sway from side to side and her slender waist to twist incessantly.
"Cherry lips, willow waist."
Unable to contain his excitement, he lifted her long skirt, his fingers lightly brushing against her, already touching the intoxicating peach blossom cave. Warm, smooth, moist, and fragrant, the area was already overflowing with lustful fluids, threatening to overflow.
Between the two slightly upturned purplish-red labia was a fleshy bud larger than her nipple, trembling slightly. "My God, Xiao Man, you are so beautiful."
Zhou Jian exclaimed, breathing heavily, burying his head between them, his tongue probing deep into the honey cave.
His nose had already touched that trembling, cherry-like nipple, causing Fan Xiaoman to tremble wildly, her jade buttocks swaying even more violently. Her hands tightly kneaded her plump breasts, her mouth uttering forceful moans, sometimes soft, sometimes heavy, her whole body trembling. "Come quickly, my master."
Zhou Jian knelt between her legs, lifting her two long, plump jade legs, bending them to the sides. Her three-inch golden lotus feet, still clad in embroidered shoes, were raised high, a beautiful contrast against her fair, jade-like legs. Her peach blossom cave was filled with silvery-white nectar.
Even Zhou Jian, with his exceptional self-control, could not suppress the surging heat within him. His incredibly hard spear thrust forward, "whoosh," reaching her very core.
Zhou Jian's thrusts increased in force and speed, as a master of seduction, he knew how to handle a woman so alluring, his movements controlled and rhythmic—the way of both gentle and forceful.
After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Fan Xiaoman was gradually swaying from side to side, and all sorts of sensations came rushing in. Aches, tingles, itchiness, and pain assaulted every part of her body. With his violent thrusting, she felt her uterus writhe, and a strange feeling surged into her heart. She leaned her waist up, responding to his rhythm. In the midst of ecstasy, her mind relaxed, and a torrent of hot, turbid fluid gushed out.
(VIII)
In the sixth year of Emperor Zhenzong's reign, the court was peaceful and prosperous.
That day, all civil and military officials gathered for the morning court. Three cracks of the whip were heard, and after the civil and military officials had finished their shouts and bows, a high-ranking official behind the curtain announced, "Ministers, if you have matters to report
, speak now; otherwise, leave the court." Suddenly, the Prime Minister, Sun Bing, stepped forward from the civil ranks, holding a tablet to his chest, and prostrated himself, saying, "Your Majesty, I report that I have received Your Majesty's decree to hold the imperial examinations. The papers have now been reviewed, and the top three candidates have been selected. The top candidate is Qiu Feidian from Sichuan. I request Your Majesty's perusal."
Emperor Zhenzong was delighted and personally examined the paper. His face lit up with joy, and he said, "This paper is written with vigorous strokes; truly, it reveals talented individuals. Summon the top three to the palace examination.
"
"Fallen petals form a flurry, a myriad of points scattering in the wind, a sorrowful sight. The pond dreams of dawn, the balustrade bids farewell to spring; butterfly powder lightly touches the flying catkins like snow, swallow mud fragrance stirs the dust of fallen flowers; the heartstrings tied to spring are short, the willow branches long, separated by the shade of flowers, the person is far yet near. The fragrance of the Six Dynasties' golden powder has faded, the spirit of the Three Chu regions has diminished."
In the inner garden of the imperial palace, a young woman in her prime was quietly playing a solo piece,
playing the zither. Her face, as smooth as jade, was unadorned, her brows seemed to hold endless unspoken thoughts, the resonant notes of her zither could not conceal her gentle tenderness.
She longed for that vibrant spring season, what a warm feeling it must have been, that graceful figure like a fluttering butterfly, traversing mountains and rivers, flying straight into the depths of memory, transforming into a deep sorrow. And from then on, memory was stranded on that dark and hazy shoal, damp and no longer bathed in sunlight.
"Princess, the Emperor has arrived." The soft voice belonged to her teacher, Qin Xiaomei.
A single tear fell from the crescent moon onto the zither, like a morning dew, like raindrops, causing Qin Xiaomei great heartache.
Unrequited love is a deadly poison, slowly eroding the blossoming youth of this beautiful young woman.
"Brother, what brings you to the Broken Flower Pavilion today?"
She had renamed the Flying Flower Palace to Broken Flower Pavilion, causing Shu Cheng to frown. "Sister," he said, "you are my biggest worry right now. The top scholar in today's imperial examination is dashing and handsome. I intend to arrange for you to meet him. What do you think, Sister?"
Xinyue was his most beloved younger sister. When their mother was on her deathbed, she earnestly instructed him to take good care of this only sister.
Xinyue before him was in the prime of her youth, smiling brightly. She shouldn't be burdened with such deep sorrow; she should be playing "Song of the Earth," not such mournful music.
"Brother, my heart is dead. I have no desire for a partner in this life, so please don't worry about me anymore..."
Over the years, her brother had introduced her to countless princes and nobles, to the sons of generals and ministers, but she had never even raised an eyebrow in response.
She preferred to immerse herself in that beautiful scene: boundless wilderness, lush grass, gentle breeze, and a young man in white standing in the distance, smiling like a wisp of mist, beckoning to her under the radiant glow of the setting sun.
Spring was late, incense smoke curled, heavy curtains hung low, and all was quiet. The entire Zhaoyang Palace was in a twilight nap when two people awoke from their soft dreams.
Consort Zhao's jade-like, fair body was disheveled, her arms smooth and white, her hair loose, still revealing the alluring charm of her indulgence.
"Your Majesty, you are truly amazing, I really can't take it anymore..." Emperor
Zhenzong carefully examined the beauty nestled in his arms. Her neck was like jade, her breasts high and white, bright as snow, her nipples purplish-red, like two purple jade stones inlaid on them.
Her hips were full, her waist slender; he couldn't help but touch her exquisite body all over, feeling as smooth as white jade.
Consort Zhao unconsciously moaned softly, her legs crossed, her vulva already soaked. A little crystalline fluid seeped from the lush pubic hair, flowing onto the bed like thin ice rising, wetting the mattress.
Emperor Zhenzong gently touched her trembling clitoris, instantly making Consort Zhao languid and weak, panting heavily.
"Your Majesty, spare me."
She felt as if a thousand ants were attacking her body, unbearably itchy and numb, her whole being already ecstatic.
Emperor Zhenzong took out his jade stem, which quickly swelled up like an inflating balloon, the glans as large as a python, veins bulging, smooth and shiny. "My beloved consort, come quickly." Consort Zhao
immediately understood, bending down and taking the jade stem into her mouth, her red lips sucking, her tongue lightly touching the glans, teasing it from side to side.
Emperor Zhenzong lay on the bed, feeling an overwhelming pleasure, his desire burning fiercely. His penis trembled incessantly at the base. He gently patted her smooth, firm, pink buttocks, full yet not bloated.
Consort Zhao released his jade stem and knelt on the bed, while Zhenzong thrust in forcefully from behind.
Consort Zhao couldn't help but moan softly, feeling the jade stem pressing tightly against the inner walls of her vagina, hot and itchy. Her waist swayed like a willow, gently responding to his thrusts.
Zhenzong thrust hundreds of times, then withdrew his jade stem from Consort Zhao's vagina. He smeared some of her vaginal fluid on his fingers and applied it to her delicate, jade-like anus, inserting his fingers to rub the fluid around them for lubrication. Then, holding his jade stem with one hand and parting her anus with the other, he slowly inserted it.
Consort Zhao trembled all over in pain, like a flower branch shaking wildly, and pleaded in a low voice, "Your Majesty, have mercy! My poor concubine is about to tear..."
Emperor Zhenzong ignored her, thrusting his slender waist forward and penetrating her in one swift motion, leaving only her testicles outside. His jade stem teased her vulva a few times before continuing to thrust. After a while, it became somewhat lubricated, and Emperor Zhenzong quickened his pace.
Consort Zhao gasped beneath him, "Your Majesty, you truly rule the world! I'm about to die..."
She felt a numb, burning, and painful sensation in her anus, a mix of sensations surging through her body, an itch all over, and a feeling of countless insects swarming within her vulva. Her whole body relaxed, so he reached out and probed her vulva with his fingers, then inserted three fingers completely, causing her to gush with lustful fluids. A while later, Consort Zhao's limbs were numb and aching, her hairpins falling loose, and she cried out in a cacophony of lustful moans.
Emperor Zhenzong thrust his spear downwards, the depth varying, sometimes powerful and resounding, sometimes erratic and unsteady, causing Consort Zhao beneath him to lose her virginity several times.
The cold, clear sunlight cast a chill over the Prime Minister's residence, while the main hall was brightly lit, offering no hint of the spring chill.
"Your Excellency, it is late. This student will take his leave now and will visit again another day to receive Your Excellency's instruction."
The man who rose to bow wore a turban and a blue robe, and was handsome and imposing; he was none other than the top scholar of this year's imperial examination, Qiu Qing, whose name was misspelled as "Feidian." Two others beside him also stood up; they were the second and third-ranked scholars.
"Well, you stay here for now. I have some questions for you."
Sun Bing, dressed in his court robes, smiled and waved for his servants to see the two men off. Then he gently patted Qiu Qing's shoulder and asked, "Young Master Qiu, who else is in your family? Are your parents well?"
"My family has fallen on hard times, and my parents passed away early. I am all alone now." Qiu Qing bowed deeply. The man standing before him was the current emperor's tutor, highly regarded and wielding considerable power. With Sun Bing's discerning eye, his rise to prominence was imminent.
"Oh, very good." No pain, no gain. "Young Master Qiu, you have been able to hone yourself through adversity. Your future is limitless."
Qiu Qing quickly replied humbly, "I dare not presume. I hope Your Excellency will continue to guide me. I will be eternally grateful."
During the meal, the two discussed matters of state and the world, feeling as if they had known each other for a long time.
After Qiu Qing took his leave, a young woman gracefully emerged from behind the screen. She was stunningly beautiful, with a captivating charm and a lithe figure. Her laughter and words were tinged with shyness, and a lingering affection lingered in her eyes.
"Father, your daughter greets you," she said.
It was Sun Bing's only beloved daughter, Sun Saiyu. Meanwhile
,
a few miles northwest of the Prime Minister's residence, in Ningyan Pavilion, stood a woman of about thirty years old. She wore a white silk blouse and a green gauze skirt, without makeup, her simple attire revealing a delicate and beautiful face, ethereal and captivating.
"I must find him! It wasn't me! It wasn't me! I didn't betray him!"
Her heart burned with anguish; she longed to see him again and pour out her endless longing and deep pain.
That day at the foot of Wenyue Mountain, she successfully rescued Wei Feng from the encirclement with her "Parting Sorrows" needles, which were coated with potent poison. Her heart was filled with joy, as radiant as spring blossoms.
Knowing that she could not linger there, she immediately rode a hundred miles to her sister He Yunfen's residence—Peach Blossom Village, where their son Nianlang was being cared for by He Yunfen.
"Is this the lover you've been thinking about day and night, the one you've been talking about every day? He is indeed quite handsome."
He Yunfen carefully examined the unconscious Wei Feng. Even with his face covered in blood, his handsome features and masculine charm were still strikingly captivating in the quiet night. She couldn't help but sigh inwardly, no wonder her younger sister was so infatuated with him.
“Sister, your lover has so many enemies.”
He Yunfen cleaned Wei Feng’s wounds and exclaimed in surprise, “Look at the wound on his chest, it was caused by the Luo family’s spear from Luoyang, Henan. It’s a seven-petaled plum blossom pattern, very powerful. Hmm, I heard that Luo Lie, the third son of the Luo family, died at the hands of a young man in white. So the Luo family also participated in the siege of Luofeng Slope last month. Sister, that day was the first time in thirty years that the righteous path had cooperated so fully. Your lover is so charming.”
He Yunfang remained silent, a pained expression on her face, as if the pain of her lover’s wounds was her own.
Even without her sister’s words, she could see that Wei Feng’s injuries were beyond what an ordinary person could endure. The Prajna Palm print of Elder Xinyue of Shaolin on his lower abdomen, the powerful Eagle Claw Divine Claw of Li Tie of Kongtong on his left shoulder, and the faint purple aura on his face were all caused by Yue Bupo, the head of Huashan Sect, using the Purple Cloud Divine Skill.
Her lover was now the target of everyone in the martial arts world. Although she hadn't even known his real name before, none of that mattered. What mattered was that he had finally returned to her side, and no one could take him away from her again!
"Nianlang, come here, this is your father. Didn't you keep asking for your own father?"
He Yunfang pulled the boy, who had been standing there dumbfounded, over and looked at Wei Feng with adoration. She said, "Fenglang, this is our child. I've named him Nianlang. From now on, he'll be called Wei Nianlang, okay?" Now she knew that her former lover, with whom she had spent every day, was named Wei Feng, a cold-blooded assassin feared by everyone in the martial arts world.
At this moment, the sunlight was dazzling, and Wei Feng's face had regained some color, no longer as pale as before.
He smiled faintly and said, "Yes, he's grown so much. The child will take your surname from now on."
He Yunfang's face immediately darkened, and she smiled bitterly, saying, "Fenglang, believe me, he really is your child. Since I met you, you've been the only man in my life. Heaven and earth can bear witness to my heart for you."
Her face showed a look of utter despair; he still hadn't forgiven her. Even though she hadn't done anything wrong, deep down, she always felt she had done something wrong, which was why her lover had run away.
She trembled, pulled Nianlang closer, and said, "Look, he really is yours, you two look so alike!"
Wei Feng touched Nianlang's delicate face and said, "I am an unlucky person, wherever I go, there is bloodshed and carnage. It's also unlucky for the child to have my surname. Besides, I am now the enemy of the martial arts world, everyone wants to kill me. Thank you for saving my life, I think I must go."
He had been a seasoned figure in the martial arts world for a long time, leaving his mark everywhere. He Yunfang was just one of his many women, a stepping stone for his conquest of the world, a tool for his journey through the martial arts world. He had no feelings for any of them. He
Yunfang's face turned pale. "Fenglang, I am your woman, it is only right that I save you, I, I..."
Before she could finish speaking, a long, black feather, accompanied by a strong, cold wind, struck. Wei Feng tilted his head slightly, and with a thud, the feather was pinned to the wooden board behind the bed, trembling uncontrollably. It was clear that the archer possessed profound inner strength.
"I've long heard of the renowned archer Xue Ju of the Beggars' Sect, but I never imagined he'd be so incompetent." Wei Feng recognized the archer the moment he saw the arrow. This black-feathered arrow was longer than ordinary arrows, and its power was profound; only one person in the world could shoot it—Xue Ju, the vice-leader of the Beggars' Sect.
He knew the arrow was merely a show of force, a deliberate sarcastic remark, while his mind was racing with plans to escape.
"Incompetent, but enough to sweep away demons, let alone you clowns." Xue Ju remained calm and collected, his words also a provocation. Both men knew that only by luring the enemy into making the first move could they find their weakness, so they waited with bated breath.
Xue Ju, in particular, was completely at ease; he had plenty of time.
"Vice-leader Xue, are you waiting for your sect's four elders to make your move?"
Wei Feng assessed the situation, knowing that time was of the essence; if he didn't act soon, escape would be impossible.
He suddenly roared, cursing, "It's you again, you wretched woman, who brought this message! I'll kill you!" Before He Yunfang could react, he grabbed her by the "Tanzhong" acupoint on her chest and, with a "Northern Wild Goose Flying South" maneuver, threw her out the window, heading straight for Xue Ju.
Then, he channeled his strength into his legs, his entire body sinking into the ground and disappearing in an instant.
It should be known that when Wei Feng learned his martial arts, he learned to escape from enemies before learning to kill them, making him extremely adept at using terrain.
Upon waking, his first action was to observe the terrain, discovering that Peach Blossom Village was situated on flowing water, allowing him to escape with ease.
Meanwhile, Xue Ju, having dodged He Yunfang, unleashed a barrage of arrows, but it was too late.
He turned his head and said, "That little thief got away again, how hateful! Ah Fen, do you know where he'll run off to?"
A beautiful woman emerged from behind a peach tree, her hair styled in a glossy black bun, wearing a pale yellow silk dress, her lips naturally red, her eyebrows naturally dark – it was He Yunfen. "The Peach Blossom Valley's thirteen bends of flowing water, so gentle and interconnected, yet this lowly concubine is helpless."
She helped her sister, who was lying motionless on the ground, and said apologetically, "Sister, I'm so sorry. You know, if your future brother-in-law can't catch him, he won't become the leader of the Beggars' Sect. As his older sister, I have no choice but to help him."
He Yunfen's eyes were filled with tears of resentment and despair. She had lost him again! She felt that life was utterly meaningless.
Chapter Nine
: "I live at the head of the Yangtze River, you live at its tail. Day after day I think of you, yet I cannot see you, though we both drink from the Yangtze. When will this water cease flowing?
When will this sorrow end? I only wish your heart were like mine, then my longing would not be in vain."
The soft, mournful voice of a singer drifted from the front building, accompanied by the panpipes, sounding plaintive and
deeply moving. At this moment, large beads of sweat rolled down Wei Feng's face; his face twitched uncontrollably, his teeth clenched, clearly enduring immense pain.
That day in the Jin Kui Stone Chamber, Wei Feng was severely injured. Hao Lianxin used his supreme internal energy to heal him, granting him decades of newfound power, but also transmitting the rare poison "Heart-Destroying Grass" to Wei Feng.
The moon was high in the sky, and the bright, full moon night was precisely the time when the poison would take effect. Coupled with his repeated injuries, internal and external ailments took the opportunity to rage within his body. Even he, a man of iron, could not withstand such torment, and he had already fainted and awoke several times.
He struggled to swallow three more Shaolin Temple Qinglu Jiuxin Pills, sat cross-legged, and circulated his Qi through his body. A surge of essence rose from his spine along the Du meridian to the top of his head, passing through the Baihui and Shangxing acupoints to his forehead, then down to the Renzhong acupoint between his eyebrows. His tongue touched the upper palate to form a bridge, and then he continued down from the Chengjiang acupoint, along the Ren meridian, down to the Tanzhong acupoint between his breasts, Shangwan, Zhongwan, Xiawan, Shenque, Qihai, Guanyuan, Zhongji, to the Huiyin acupoint, and then back to the Changqiang acupoint. Then he returned along the Du meridian from his back, and so on, endlessly cycling.
He seemed to have entered a chaotic world, hazy and boundless, where a scorching sphere seemed to be spinning and burning in his dantian. Gradually, he forgot the pain all over his body, as if he had returned to his mother's womb, a place of peace and tranquility, free from worldly troubles, grudges, and passions.
As
a vice-leader of the Holy Light Sect, Chu Tianshu was not happy; his goals were far greater than this.
For generations, the Chu and Wei families had supported each other, sharing joys and sorrows, and fighting side by side. Only in the previous generation were the two families freed from slavery, able to rise above their station and make a name for themselves among the heroes of the martial world.
Today, he once again refused the lavish banquet offered by Sect Leader Zhou Jian, and wandered aimlessly to the Tiao Ma Ravine, where he had sworn brotherhood with Wei Tianhao years ago—the most treacherous and perilous place on Bright Peak. The jagged rocks stood like wolf teeth, the steep cliffs made the path difficult to traverse, and the two sheer cliffs were like carved faces. The whistling wind was like the wailing of ghosts, truly a scene of utter desolation.
Chu Tianshu turned left and right again, rounding several bends, and suddenly his eyes lit up. There was a small
bridge over a stream, a winding path with secluded railings, birds singing and flowers blooming, and clouds and mist swirling around. He stopped and stood quietly for a while, slowly channeling his energy into a stone wall. Suddenly, the stone wall opened up, revealing several steps leading straight down. At the end of the steps, he saw only a few thatched huts, a stream in front, and several tall bamboos behind. The surrounding mountains stood tall, covered in green moss, with several ancient cypress and pine trees intertwined in verdant splendor.
Chu Tianshu gently pushed open the half-closed door, and a woman with an incredibly graceful figure, dressed in black, stood under the green bamboo window, gazing into the distance. Several white cranes cried out, soaring straight into the sky.
Only here did all grand ambitions and lofty aspirations crumble to dust, all pride and triumph vanish.
The woman slowly turned around, her face veiled, yet unable to conceal the deep sorrow and melancholy in her beautiful eyes.
She lay quietly on the wisteria bed, her beautiful eyes closed, uttering not a word.
Chu Tianshu knelt before her, slowly removing the veil, carefully examining her exquisite face.
Time had left no trace on her; her skin remained as delicate and white as a young girl's, yet she possessed a mature charm and allure unique to a young woman.
"Please, speak to me for a moment, even just a single word!"
he murmured. "You know, I would do anything for you. In this life, you are the one I love most!"
He gently kissed her smooth forehead, her long eyelashes shimmering in her starry eyes, her high, straight nose, and her naturally red lips.
He was intoxicated.
But he hated so much! He could touch her warm body and feel her soft breath, but he still couldn't win her heart!
"I knew you before him, yes! But why did you fall in love with him?"
He kissed her sweet, fragrant lips tightly, but her passive lips showed no passion.
"Yes, in that springtime in Jiangnan, I saw you, and I fell in love with you. You were only sixteen then, so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful. You wore a pale yellow gauze dress, holding a bamboo flute, sitting in the wealthy Jin's Liaofeng Pavilion, stunning everyone present."
He buried his face between her firm breasts, deeply inhaling her natural fragrance, like musk but not quite. "I remember, that day you played 'Xiao Xiang Shui Yun,' so fresh and ethereal, the melody so melodious and lingering, captivating all who beheld it."
When the black robe was removed, Chu Tianshu's eyes shone with a piercing light. His naked body was breathtakingly perfect, and his breathing became rapid and labored, making it hard to believe that this was the martial arts master who struck fear into the hearts of all the heroes of the Jianghu.
He stepped back several paces, his eyes wide with fury, pupils dilated. Suddenly, he cried out and lunged forward, kissing and caressing her dazzling body relentlessly. Although her body was numb and motionless, like a zombie, this did not diminish Chu Tianshu's already unleashed passion.
He kissed her high, firm breasts, deeply sucking on the two trembling, dripping nipples. After a long while, he slowly moved downwards, following the exquisite curves, stopping at the lush pubic hair. He stared blankly at the delicate mound, and suddenly a few drops of clear dew appeared on her mons pubis. Tears welled in Chu Tianshu's eyes, involuntarily spilling from them.
His long tongue plunged deep into that secluded paradise, teasing and probing with endless variations, hoping for the sweet nectar of her passion.
But he was disappointed!
She lay there quietly, letting them touch her, her breathing perfectly even, her heart undisturbed, like a meditating Guanyin, completely still.
She had long since given up hope!
More than ten years ago, when she heard the devastating news of her husband, her heart had become like withered wood. No matter how the world changed, she remained unmoved, like a still well. One could say she was already a living dead.
"Why? Why are you doing this to me!"
Chu Tianshu roared, his voice piercing the sky, startling the surrounding crows into flight, their cawing incessant.
"Don't you want to hear about your son's whereabouts? Beg me, and I'll tell you."
He changed tactics; he knew that the person she still clung to in this world would disturb her tranquil heart.
She blinked, then fell silent again.
Chu Tianshu was filled with despair.
He stripped off all his clothes, pulled out his gleaming black spear, and plunged it into the woman he so desperately desired. She was still warm inside, as long as she was alive. Although middle-aged, her skin was still smooth and her muscles supple, her waist without an ounce of fat.
Chu Tianshu pressed down on her firm breasts, thrusting relentlessly, as if trying to tear them apart.
He roared, thrusting hundreds of times, but due to a lack of coordination, he was still unsatisfied.
He pulled out the spear, its glans still dripping with saliva. He lifted her stiff body, pressed her legs against her chest, and suddenly inserted it into her anus. Without any foreplay, he anticipated her painful groans, even the slightest sound.
But what awaited him was nothing but despair.
He thrust in and out with abandon, imagining the enchanting spring scenery of boating with her on the Five Lakes, her astride him, swaying with the gentle waves, her flower branches trembling, her tight honeyed orifice gripping his long penis, relentlessly stroking it, her face displaying a fervent, almost ecstatic, passion.
He ejaculated.
************
Luo Jiasheng of Luoyang, Henan, had always been an ally and close friend of Marquis Jingzhong, Zhan Yu.
Years ago, when Marquis Jingzhong was ordered to lead an expedition against the northern barbarians and supplies were running low, it was Luo Jiasheng who traveled a thousand miles to provide timely assistance, rescuing the soldiers trapped on Mount Kapok on a snowy night. The two immediately became sworn brothers, inseparable.
It was early August, the autumn wind was cool, a few leaves of the paulownia tree fell, and the osmanthus blossoms were in full bloom in the backyard of Qiuyue Temple.
This Qiuyue Nunnery was originally the property of the Marquis of Jingzhong. Zhan Yu's mother was a devout Buddhist and always prayed fervently. Zhan Yu also liked the quiet and elegant atmosphere of the place, so he purchased it to enhance his mother's virtuous deeds.
Luo Jiasheng had three sons: Luo Xiu, Luo Zhen, and Luo Lie. While offering incense at the White Horse Temple in Luoyang, Luo Lie was killed by a young man in white. His death was peaceful and serene, with a single sword aura on his chest, indicating a swift and fatal blow. Everyone believed it was Wei Feng of the Demonic Sect who killed him.
That day at Luofeng Slope in southern Shanxi, Luo Xiu and his younger brother Luo Zhen, along with many masters of the righteous path, had trapped Wei Feng. They fought fiercely for over three hours. Although Luo Xiu severely injured Wei Feng with his family's secret technique, "Seven Plum Blossoms," Wei Feng still managed to break through. Thinking of this, Luo Xiu was filled with resentment.
Today, Luo Xiu, on his father's orders, came to the capital to celebrate Zhan Yu's mother's birthday. Hearing that the osmanthus flowers at Qiuyue Nunnery were in full bloom, he decided to go and admire them.
The back garden of Qiuyue Temple spans over a hundred acres, lined with osmanthus trees on both sides of the wall, numbering one or two thousand, their shades of yellow and white intermingling, all in full bloom.
A poem praises this flower: "The flower has one name, but comes in two colors: tender red, alluring white, and delicate yellow. In the clear autumn scenery, after the rain and in the cool breeze, the fragrance of orchids and musk wafts for miles around, a truly enchanting sight. Its natural beauty, when in bloom, forbids butterflies and bees from swarming. Alone, I drink wine, basking in the moonlight, and ask the flower goddess, who grants her the title? It inspires poets to compose verses. Many talented scholars vie to pluck its blossoms, and Chang'e describes three kinds of fragrance: the top scholar's red, the second-place scholar's yellow, and the third-place scholar's white."
Qiuyue Temple does not restrict visitors; the garden is teeming with people, all sitting on the ground under the osmanthus trees, singing and drinking heartily, creating a lively atmosphere.
Luo Xiu and his retainers had been admiring the sights for a while when, just as they were about to return to the Marquis of Jingzhong's residence, a woman in red emerged from beneath a half-grown osmanthus tree. Her figure was graceful and alluring, her eyes and brows possessing a natural charm.
Luo Xiu was captivated, thinking, "The capital is indeed different from other places; even this young woman's allure surpasses others."
The woman smiled slightly, her gaze glancing sideways, seemingly intentionally or unintentionally, in his direction. Even though Luo Xiu was nearing middle age, he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his heart.
He quickened his pace, and osmanthus blossoms fell before him, their fragrance wafting for miles. The woman bowed slightly to him, her robes fluttering, her figure swaying, and a rich, musky fragrance seemed to fill the air. A pang of pain shot through him as he watched the woman's slender waist sway, her silk stockings stirring up dust, until she was already far away.
Luo Xiu stood motionless for a long time, his body still unmoved. His retainers, seeing him still standing there in a daze, couldn't help but find it somewhat amusing. One of his trusted men stepped forward and gently touched him, saying, "Young Master, let's go back."
But then Luo Xiu's body slowly collapsed, blood seeping from his seven orifices. The retainers were shocked and rushed over, checking his breath; he was dead.
"The arrowhead leaves wither at the western bay, the lotus flowers bloom but he has not returned.
My dreams never leave the river, people say my love is on Phoenix Mountain."
A woman in red stood quietly by the Maple Leaf Bridge, her beautiful eyes seemingly filled with endless sorrow and grief. Her lover's misunderstanding could not diminish her longing, which had only deepened over time.
"My love, my sister and I have severed all ties. The rivers and seas are vast, and I only think of you. Where are you?"
This woman was He Yunfang. That day in Peach Blossom Village, she angrily severed her sisterly bond with He Yunfen, who had betrayed her, and left with her son, Nianlang.
Thinking her son was too young to roam the martial world with her, she sent him to study at a private school in Jiangnan. The schoolteacher's son had been saved from a serious illness years ago by her medical intervention, and he was deeply grateful. Besides, the schoolteacher wasn't a martial artist, relieving her of any worries.
He Yunfang tracked Wei Feng's movements from Jiangnan to Jiangbei, from Hexi to Hedong, but lost sight of him near the capital, as if he had vanished from the face of the earth.
Thinking her lover was a charming and amorous man, she wondered if he was hiding in a brothel. She secretly searched dozens of brothels in the capital, but found no trace of him.
That very day, she went to Maiji Temple to offer incense, only to find a bustling crowd ahead. It turned out that Marquis Jingzhong and his family had just returned from their Buddhist pilgrimage. Accompanying them was a man dressed in a blue robe and turban, with a dignified appearance and prominent temples, clearly a martial arts expert, with a gleaming silver short spear tucked behind his back.
Upon inquiring afterward, she discovered that the man was Luo Xiu, the eldest son of the Luo family in Luoyang, Henan. This stirred up her longing for her lover and her immense hatred for the person who had harmed him.
Unbeknownst to her, her actions inadvertently disrupted a long-planned conspiracy, drawing
her into a dramatic yet bloody court intrigue. Meanwhile, dozens of miles away at the Jingzhong Marquis's residence, the room was solemn. Luo Xiu's body lay in the center of the main hall, his expression serene, clearly having died without pain.
"My lord," said the man, "Young Master Luo was poisoned by a rare and deadly poison, 'A Branch of Red Dew-Infused Fragrance.' This poison, attached to that Soul-Destroying Needle, travels through all eight meridians, instantly taking a life." The speaker,
with a handsome face, a long beard, and an air of calm composure, was known in the martial arts world as "The Undying Healer," his surname being Sima and his given name Tu.
Seeing Zhan Yu remain unmoved, Sima Tu continued, "There are fewer than ten masters of needlework in the martial world; we can start there. As for the poison, I think we'll trouble Brother Tang to help us find it."
A tall, burly middle-aged man stood up and said, "Tang Fang will certainly serve Your Excellency with utmost loyalty." Tang Fang was from the Tang family of Sichuan and was quite knowledgeable about poisons.
Zhan Yu's square face remained impassive, but he slowly nodded and said, "Thank you all for your trouble."
(The End)

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