Niao Ni
Chapter 326: The Grandmaster Battle of the Commoner Grandmaster
The man in the noodle shop wore coarse cloth clothes, earthy yellow, short-sleeved, and thin. It was the typical attire of the coolies at the river docks south of the capital, nothing remarkable. He blinked, the indifference in his eyes unchanged, the expression on his face unmoved. He slowly stood up from the long bench as Wuzhu stepped forward.
The man in cloth held a saber in his hand, a straight blade. With a wave of his hand, the blade whistled as it slashed horizontally - the straight blade landed on the neck of the stooped and elderly noodle shop owner who was picking noodles. With a soft "chih" sound, blood spurted from the noodle shop owner's neck, falling completely into the noodle pot without missing a drop!
Immediately afterward, the noodle shop owner's head snapped off with a "kachha" sound, like a heavy fruit falling from an autumn tree branch, and plunged into the noodle soup with a "plop," sending up scalding and bloody soup in all directions.
Without warning, without reason, with abnormal coldness and steadiness, the noodle shop owner was decapitated. The old head floated up and down in the soup, which had been dyed a murky red. Under the flickering light of the oil lamp, which threatened to extinguish at any moment in the winter night, the scene was indescribably terrifying and bizarre.
Wuzhu stood three zhang away from the man in cloth, his half of his face exposed outside the black cloth motionless, seemingly unconcerned that the man had just killed an innocent noodle shop owner in front of him.
"You came from the South." The blind man's voice was always so monotonous, lacking rhythm.
The man in cloth slowly retracted his straight blade, his cold eyes fixed on Wuzhu. Although his eyes and expression did not reveal any emotion, for some reason, he seemed to have entered a state of extreme vigilance.
"Routine patrol," the man in cloth said in a thin voice. "Looking for you to return."
Wuzhu said, "You came to kill Fan Xian."
The man in cloth said, "You deliberately released the information."
"Because I couldn't find you in the South, I had to use this method to force you to show yourself." Wuzhu looked at him coldly, as if looking at a dead man. "You know Fan Xian is her descendant, so you will definitely rush to the capital to kill him."
The man in cloth's eyebrows twitched strangely, as if trying to express surprise and incomprehension, but his expression was obviously stiff, making it seem somewhat comical. The two eyebrows wiggled like two small worms.
"You know the reason, so you let me come."
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Why would the man in cloth definitely come to the capital to kill Fan Xian after learning that Fan Xian was Ye Qingmei's son? From Wuzhu's conversation with the man in cloth, it was clear that the two knew each other.
Moreover, Wuzhu knew that once the man knew Fan Xian's identity, he would risk everything to enter the capital to kill him, so he specifically waited outside Fan's residence. In this light, the recent turmoil in the capital might just be Wuzhu deliberately feigning a miscalculation, secretly awakening Ku He, in order to reveal Fan Xian's identity from the distant Northern Qi, without leaving a trace.
If Uncle Blind had the ability to orchestrate such a perfect plan, then the only purpose for doing all this would be to attract the man in cloth to the capital.
Who exactly was the man in cloth?
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Several months ago, on the southern coastline of Qing, a nameless person appeared. He searched everywhere for a blind man, and when his questions went unanswered, he would simply kill everyone who had ever seen him, without reason or explanation.
He was the Southern Border serial killer that Fan Xian and Yan Bingyun had been constantly worried about.
When the Ministry of Justice was at a loss, the Supervisory Council finally began to investigate these strange and bizarre cases. However, whenever Supervisory Council experts tracked down this nameless person, they would be counter-attacked and ruthlessly killed. So, until now, no one knew what this nameless person looked like. Yan Bingyun had considered borrowing troops from Fan Xian, sending the Tiger Guards south, precisely for this person.
When he first appeared in this world, he seemed unaccustomed to the world's ways and rules, which was why he unnecessarily killed so many people. Later, he gradually understood more, so he tied his scattered hair into the most ordinary bun, put his bare feet into essential straw sandals, chose a straight blade commonly carried by Qing martial artists, and at the same time, changed into the most inconspicuous coarse cloth clothes.
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Wuzhu took a step forward, closer to the noodle stall, and said with a slight bow, "I went to the South to find you, but I didn't find you."
The man in cloth said something incomprehensible: "I went to the South to find you, but I didn't find you either."
Wuzhu's feet were bare, while the man in cloth wore straw sandals. Wuzhu's hair was tightly tied behind his head, motionless, while the man in cloth's hair was tied into a slightly higher bun.
The aura emanating from the two was extremely similar. Although their clothing and appearance were different, the only things that distinguished them seemed to be these two characteristics. The aura they exuded made it clear that they were both ruthless killing machines, yet they were like two hunters lurking in the night, clearly searching for each other, yet caring deeply about who found whom first.
They demanded that only they could find the other first, and not allow themselves to be found. Although this seemed to make no difference, it was like a desperate struggle between a hunter and a wounded tiger. Whoever gained the initiative could continue to live in this world.
"Someone told you I was in the South," Wuzhu said.
The man in cloth did not answer, but said directly: "Cannot leave traces."
Wuzhu said: "She has already left too many traces. You return to the Temple, I will not kill you."
The man in cloth seemed to find Wuzhu's words quite incomprehensible, in great conflict with his consistently held principles. A strange look flashed in those cold and icy clear eyes, a look rarely seen by the world.
"You come back with me." The man in cloth's tone remained unchanged.
Wuzhu's voice was slightly more lively: "I forgot some things, wait until I remember them."
The conversation between the two had been proceeding in a very strange rhythm. Moreover, if one paid close attention, one would notice that in this series of conversations, neither of them used a single question, but only stated something in a very affirmative tone. Perhaps they were both very confident in their logical reasoning abilities. Probably only these two strange people could carry on such a disjointed conversation, which seemed unusually difficult to understand to ordinary people.
The two men's lips suddenly moved, without making a sound, as if they were conducting a final silent negotiation.
The negotiation broke down, and Wuzhu took another step towards the noodle stall, reducing the distance between them from three zhang to two zhang.
The man in cloth remained expressionless, without retreating a step, but stared at Wuzhu's hand gripping the iron skewer, as if waiting for that pale hand to blossom into a flower.
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A muffled "plutz" sound, with a lowered pitch, came from the stove holding the noodle pot. The noodle soup, which contained a human head, overflowed the pot's rim with bloody, fishy, frothy bubbles, and spilled into the stove, touching the red-hot coals with a "plutz, plutz" sound, sending up a pungent, smoky smell.
Wuzhu moved. The black cloth over his eyes instantly transformed into a black silk thread, and the iron skewer in his hand did not blossom into a flower, but like a sharp winter bamboo shoot, stabbed straight at the man in cloth's chest!
Strangely, Wuzhu did not choose the throat this time.
Almost at the same time he moved, the man in cloth with the straight blade also moved. The two charged forward with identical reactions and speed, and no one could detect the slightest difference.
The distance of two zhang disappeared in the blink of an eye. Wuzhu and the man in cloth collided violently.
The two men's speed was too fast, even exceeding the limit of what the human eye could observe. It seemed that just a moment ago, the two were standing two zhang apart, and the next moment, they were already face to face!
Like two streaks of light, they suddenly met. At such a speed, neither Fan Xian before his injuries, nor the Shadow assassin from the Sixth Bureau, nor even Haitang here, could react in time. They would only be left with the fate of waiting for death—such a realm, in this world, besides the four Grandmasters, no one had ever touched.
However, the collision of the two streaks of light did not produce dazzling fireworks, but instantly turned into a deathly silence.
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The tip of a blade protruded from Wuzhu's right rib, ghastly and terrifying, with something dripping from the blade onto the ground.
An iron skewer, with absolute accuracy, pierced through the man in cloth's abdomen, without the slightest deviation.
Wuzhu moved first, and his speed seemed to be a sliver faster than his enemy's. So, when the two collided, his left knee bent slightly, and it was just that sliver faster, but it was the most fatal sliver.
At this moment, he maintained that half-squatting posture, and the iron skewer in his hand lifted slightly, as if holding a torch to the sky, piercing the opponent's abdomen.
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From the garden behind the alley, there came faint sounds of voices, extremely soft, but they reached the ears of Wuzhu and the man in cloth.
Like a saw cutting wood, the two silently separated, and the weapons in their hands were slowly pulled from each other's bodies. At that moment, the man in cloth's abdomen made a "kracha" sound, as if something had broken!
Having suffered such a severe injury, the man in cloth's face remained expressionless, as if he felt no pain. Like an infant, he stared at the wound in his abdomen, as if wondering why he had been a little slower than Wuzhu.
Wuzhu defeated his enemy with one move, but he was also seriously injured. However, he remained as expressionless as his opponent, except that the corner of his lips, exposed outside the black cloth, had a trace of detachment from the world.
He knew that the man could no longer survive in this world. And the reason why he could be a little faster than the man was because he had used Fan Xian's identity to lure him here today, so he had made more thorough preparations, not wearing shoes, not tying his hair.
"Do not taint the intention with the mortal world." The words from the Temple did have some truth to them.
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As the night snow fell again, several figures leaped over the garden wall with a "shoo" sound, silently landing in the alley. As soon as they landed, they drew the long sabers they carried on their backs, forming a sniper formation, and vigilantly surveyed the surroundings.
They were the Tiger Guards responsible for protecting Fan Xian's safety.
After confirming their safety, Gao Da sheathed his saber and walked towards the noodle stall in the sparse snowflakes. He looked at the pot of noodle soup on the broken stove, and at the ghastly human head in the soup, and frowned.
Then, his gaze fell on the separation point of the head and the corpse. After looking at the wound, a trace of coldness and fear could not help but appear in his eyes - what a fast blade!
Gao Da suddenly felt a chill on his neck, as if snowflakes had entered his clothes. He knew that the fight that had taken place here earlier was something that people like him could not interfere with. Although he had not seen it with his own eyes, he could guess what kind of mystical realm the two combatants possessed.
The snow gradually grew heavier, gradually cooling the still-warm bloody noodle soup, and also cooling the minds of everyone in the alley. The noodle shop stood forlornly at the entrance of the alley. The owner was dead, the stove was cold, and the blood had dried. No one else in this world would ever see that in this snowy night alley, two nameless experts, not listed among the Grandmasters, but possessing the strength of Grandmasters, had once fought here.
The officials on night duty at the Supervisory Council were dozing off. The building in the snowy night seemed even colder and more solemn. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through, startling him awake. Still startled, he patted his cheeks, ordering himself to wake up.
There were usually many officials on duty in the courtyard at night, and especially these days, because of the matter of Supervisor Fan, Director Chen had not returned to Chen Garden, but had been directly sitting in the courtyard to suppress everything. If the Director knew that he had been asleep earlier, he would not get any good results.
Chen Pingping was leaning against his wheelchair, dozing off. The old man had not been in good health in recent years. Although the stove in the room was burning very vigorously, he still subconsciously pulled the wool blanket over his knees and covered his chest and abdomen.
The door opened and closed again.
Chen Pingping woke up, slowly blinking his turbid and weak eyes, looking at the black cloth in front of him, and said softly: "Why are you here?"
Then he noticed the terrifying wound on Wuzhu's left chest. His snow-white eyebrows suddenly stood up. Although he was not angry, he was very vigilant and asked: "What happened?"
Could someone hurt Wuzhu? Then it could only be one of the Grandmasters. No matter how arrogant Chen Pingping was, in the current troublesome situation in the capital, he could no longer bear the news that the enemy suddenly had a Grandmaster helping them.
Wuzhu did not answer his question, but simply said three sentences.
"Let Shadow return."
"The person who hurt me knows I am in the South."
"Fan Xian dies, Qing falls."
Wuzhu knew that the old cripple in front of him had enough wisdom to understand these three sentences, and the terrible injuries he had suffered today had already made it impossible for him to support himself any longer. So after speaking, he left the Supervisory Council quickly and quietly.
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Chen Pingping sat in his wheelchair, immersed in a long silence. In the fireplace not far away, the red flames jumped like elves, reddening his originally pale and haggard face.
Wuzhu's three sentences were simple, but they revealed very important information.
The first sentence was to let Shadow return, indicating that the injuries he had suffered were very serious, and he could not stay by Fan Xian's side to protect him. He wanted Chen Pingping to fulfill his promise in advance and summon Shadow back to protect Fan Xian's safety.
However, the person who had the ability to hurt Wuzhu should already be dead, otherwise, with Wuzhu's character, he would not leave the capital no matter how seriously he was injured, for the sake of Fan Xian's life and death.
Who could hurt Wuzhu? It was definitely not the Grandmasters, otherwise Wuzhu would not deliberately hide the other party's identity. Chen Pingping's heart trembled slightly, and he vaguely guessed something. This guess had been made many years ago, but it had never been confirmed.
On the night when Wuzhu carried Fan Xian away from the capital, the two had considered how to let Fan Xian escape from that unknown danger. But...why would the Temple know that Wuzhu was in the South? Chen Pingping frowned and began to sort everything out.
During the two years that Fan Xian had been in the capital, Chen Pingping had asked about Wuzhu's whereabouts more than once. Fan Xian had been very careful to lie, saying that Wuzhu was in the South playing with Ye Liuyun. And the people who knew this false information, besides Chen Pingping, were only the Emperor whom Chen Pingping had told. (See Chapter 62 of Volume 2.)
Wuzhu's second sentence was to remind Chen Pingping of this point. In this light, the threat in the third sentence was a matter of course.
"Your Majesty." The wrinkles at the corners of Chen Pingping's eyes twitched slightly, and he sighed softly: "You really always surprise your subject. Admirable, admirable."
In just a moment, he had already figured out the Emperor's true thoughts. Although he did not know how the Emperor could have contact with the ethereal Temple, he was certain of one thing. His great Majesty, the Emperor, really wanted Wuzhu to disappear.
For an emperor, it might be difficult to tolerate having a Grandmaster-level figure as a servant by his illegitimate son's side.
A Grandmaster, if he went crazy, would have the ability to shake the court's rule. This was something that anyone could imagine. Even if it was impossible to single-handedly break into the palace and slaughter the royal family, he could travel the world with a single sword, killing the prefects and officials in each prefecture and county, without worrying about being surrounded by the army.
He could also hide in the capital for ten years without emerging, and once he drew his sword, he could scare the Emperor into never leaving the palace, and his decrees could not leave the city. In such a situation, no one would dare to be an official, and the Emperor would not dare to show his face. What other choice would the court have but to disintegrate?
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Therefore, Ku He could single-handedly deter all the rebellious princes, nobles, and officials in the North.
Therefore, Si Gu Jian could protect Dongyi City with a single sword for so many years, allowing his sword might to spread out, supporting the small principalities between the two great powers.
Therefore, Ye Liuyun, who seemed laid-back but actually possessed great wisdom, could continue his endless journey to the ends of the earth, and Qing would treat the Ye family well. Even if an emperor wanted to replace the Kyoto defense, he would be forced to use his own shameful trick of arson. Of course, Ye Liuyun himself was also clear about the imperial family's taboo, so he had not returned to Kyoto for so many years.
If war broke out in the world, His Majesty could use the Ye family to threaten Ye Liuyun, use the lives of the people of Northern Qi to persuade Ku He, and use the survival of Dongyi City to remind Si Gu Jian. The two sides could reach some kind of balanced agreement.
But Wuzhu was different from these three Grandmasters. He did not have a huge family to bear as a burden, and he did not have a country and people to protect. His actions were only for Fan Xian alone, so he had greater freedom and could not be coerced or exploited by the Emperor. There was not even room for bargaining between the two sides.
If something happened to Fan Xian, Wuzhu would go crazy, and the world would go crazy with him.
Therefore, as long as Wuzhu was around, the Emperor had to cherish Fan Xian, and play the role of the helpless and regretful father, the Emperor with great ambitions but seemingly full of sorrow, as he had in the past.
The Emperor might admire Fan Xian from the bottom of his heart, but he was, in the end, an Emperor. He could not tolerate having such a loyal Grandmaster as a servant by Fan Xian's side. Even if he did not use this Temple person this time, the Emperor would eventually find a way to get rid of Wuzhu.
Of course, Chen Pingping knew that this was only one aspect of the reason. As for the other aspect, it probably lay in the Emperor's faint fear.
The Temple never interfered in worldly affairs. No one had truly seen the people in the Temple. The people in the Temple rarely appeared in the world once every few hundred years. If Wuzhu and the people in the Temple could die together, and the relationship between Fan Xian and the Ye family could be forever hidden, burying all the past in old papers, this might be the most wonderful ending for the Emperor.
It was just that the Emperor did not expect that the identity of Fan Xian as a descendant of the Ye family would be revealed so quickly, and his son would become the Temple's primary target. He wanted to use the Temple's blade to kill Wuzhu, but instead, he was used by Wuzhu, who successfully lured and killed the Temple visitor, saving Fan Xian's life.
Chen Pingping did not know the tricks Wuzhu had played in the process, but he just thought with a hint of sorrow that His Majesty knew that someone from the Temple had come into the world, but after Fan Xian's identity was exposed, he had never reminded himself or Fan Xian. Could it be that for anyone other than himself, His Majesty would only give a faint sorrow and sympathy?
The old man sneered, pushed his wheelchair to the fireplace, greedily stretched his hand closer, warming himself while yawning, and mumbled in vague words: "You really know how to enjoy yourself, actually making a fireplace. You are excellent in everything, but this matter is a bit muddled, a young girl like..."
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At dawn, the remote and quiet place called "Outer Three Li" in Kyoto was dark, and the shadow of a circular building could be vaguely seen. It was a temple made entirely of black wood. Snowflakes fell, giving the temple a transcendent sense of detachment from the world.
This was the Qing Temple, the temple that was rumored to be the only place in Qing that could communicate with the ethereal Temple, a temple for the royal family to worship heaven.
The temple door creaked open, and the Great High Priest of the Qing Temple, who had not appeared in Kyoto for a long time, came out. The look of shock on the face of this obscure ascetic, compared to Ku He of the Qi Temple, flashed and disappeared, and he silently and sadly lifted the corpse from the snow, staggering into the temple. The corpse was wearing a common cloth coat.
(... The man in cloth did not answer, but said directly: "Cannot leave traces." Wuzhu said: "She has already left too many traces. You return to the Temple, I will not kill you." ... When writing this passage, I almost made Wuzhu directly say: "Everything that passes leaves a trace." Then I immediately woke up and was speechless. I realized that I was really too sentimental and something else in my bones. This is really a terrible thing.
This chapter was very tiring to write today, but the quality is better than the previous chapters. From the next chapter, it will be much easier. The consequences of asking for votes yesterday were shocking. It suddenly went up. I...don't know what to say, so I can only sincerely say thank you everyone.
I also thought of the big misunderstanding between Purple Eyes and me in the book review section. I'm really sorry. I wish the mother and child safe, and I wish Kofi a happy pregnancy. Don't laugh too much. I wish everyone a relaxed life.)