Chapter 44: I'm Here—What Will You Do?
The entire courtyard fell silent.
Ge Jingchun said nothing, and neither did Mei Qianluo.
But unlike Ge Jingchun's steady composure, cold sweat streamed down Mei Qianluo's forehead.
It wasn't just the pain—he realized he'd been completely outplayed.
Thinking back, that man had severed his arm with a single stroke. If he had struck again, Mei Qianluo would already be dead. Why hadn't he finished the job? Why had he stayed behind to speak with Wen Rou instead, deliberately giving him a chance to escape?
Was that truly a chance… or a trap?
His breathing grew shallow. With his blood loss and inner energy in turmoil, would he even notice if that man had followed him all this way?
The more he thought about it, the colder his heart grew.
Meanwhile, Ge Jingchun was scanning the courtyard, his sharp eyes searching for any sign of a fourth presence.
Then—laughter.
A faint, mocking laugh cut through the night, sharp and chilling.
Ge Jingchun's face darkened as he turned toward the sound.
The black-clad figure on the ground—a woman—was laughing.
Her face was hidden behind a mask, but her graceful figure left no doubt about her identity.
Even injured and weak, her laughter was defiant, sending a flicker of irritation through Ge Jingchun's eyes.
"A dying woman," he said coldly. "What are you laughing at?"
"Isn't it obvious?" the woman rasped, her voice laced with scorn. "The mighty 'Falling Leaves of the Flying Cloud'—cut down and crippled in one exchange.
"And the great 'Demon Staff Fulong'—reduced to a trembling coward, wary of shadows in his own courtyard.
"Seeing you two like this… how could I not laugh?"
Her voice wasn't loud, weakened by blood loss and exhaustion, but every word struck like a dagger.
Ge Jingchun shook his head slowly.
"If I recall correctly, you're Xia Wanshuang, the youngest daughter of the Xia family.
"When our gang leader wiped out your clan years ago, you happened to be away from home—lucky, really.
"We've left you alone all these years, didn't bother to finish the job.
"You could've lived quietly—married, raised a family. Why insist on walking the road to death?"
He spoke as he approached her, all the while keeping his guard high.
He suspected that the mysterious man who had severed Mei Qianluo's arm was already here—lurking in the darkness, watching.
So he deliberately feigned carelessness, moving to kill Xia Wanshuang, hoping to draw the hidden enemy into action. Only then could he unleash a killing strike.
But as he reached her side, nothing happened.
No sound. No movement. The courtyard was still.
Even the wary Ge Jingchun began to doubt himself. Perhaps he was imagining things—being too cautious.
If the man hadn't come, all the better.
He could kill Xia Wanshuang now, report the matter to the gang leader, then rally every Divine Sand Gang expert in Tianwu City to hunt that man down.
That plan would work.
Just as he was about to strike, an icy chill crawled down his spine.
He froze.
It wasn't his imagination—this cold was real.
He turned sharply—
And saw it.
Behind Mei Qianluo, a shadow stood tall and silent.
The man's face was hidden by the darkness, but Ge Jingchun could see the blade clearly.
Its edge gleamed faintly as it pressed against Mei Qianluo's throat.
Mei Qianluo's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Not a word came out.
His voice had been sealed—his mute point struck.
Even his movements were restricted; he could move his arms but not reach behind him.
Aside from waiting for death, there was nothing he could do.
"Stop!!"
Ge Jingchun's shout tore through the night, his heart sinking like stone.
He had been cautious, he had laid a perfect trap.
And yet, this man had slipped past everything—appearing from nowhere, without a sound.
Not even the Demon Staff Fulong had sensed him coming.
The thought had barely formed when the blade swept cleanly across Mei Qianluo's throat.
His head didn't fall to the ground—it was caught midair by a hand gripping his hair.
Ge Jingchun's eyes went bloodshot.
He and Mei Qianluo had known each other for decades. As the Second and Third Masters of the Divine Sand Gang, they had shared years of conflict and camaraderie alike.
Never in his worst nightmares did he imagine watching Mei Qianluo's head cleaved off before his eyes—without being able to do a thing.
With a fierce stomp, Ge Jingchun's figure shot forward like an arrow from a bow.
But he hadn't gone more than a few paces when Mei Qianluo's headless corpse was hurled toward him with terrifying force.
Face darkening, he thrust both hands out, catching the corpse midair—only to feel a powerful surge of violet energy rippling through it, driving him backward step by step.
He retreated all the way to the doorway before regaining his footing.
When he looked up, the courtyard was empty. The killer had vanished without a trace.
"Come out!"
His voice was low, edged with fury.
He dared not shout too loudly, wary of alerting the Tianwu Guards.
Grabbing the dragon-headed cane by the door—his weapon—Ge Jingchun steadied his breathing.
He was called the Demon Staff Fulong for his signature technique, the Subduing Dragon Staff Art. The word "Demon" described not his weapon, but his cunning—his mind as sharp as his strikes.
But cunning meant nothing now.
Whoever that man was, he had appeared like a ghost, killed Mei Qianluo as easily as plucking a weed, and vanished just as swiftly.
Even for a schemer like Ge Jingchun, there was no strategy for this.
And then—something came flying through the air with a sharp whistle.
He reacted instantly.
That black, spinning object—he knew what it was.
Mei Qianluo's head.
His first instinct was to smash it apart with one swing of his staff.
But at the last instant, his heart wavered.
He sidestepped instead, letting the head crash into the room behind him with a sickening thud.
As he turned toward the direction it had come from, a sudden gust of wind struck from behind.
When did he get behind me?!
A chill surged through his veins.
He whipped around, staff sweeping wide—slamming into a shadowy figure and sending it flying.
But the satisfaction vanished in an instant.
The figure he struck was not the assassin.
It was Xia Wanshuang.
The glint of a blade flashed at the edge of his vision, cold and merciless—already at his back.
This time, it was real.
But it was too late.
He had just unleashed his strength; his body was drained, his stance open.
He knew the strike behind him was fatal—yet he could not move.
Shhh!
The blade tore through flesh with a chilling rip.
He expected it to come from above, perhaps a cut to his shoulder or neck.
Instead, it pierced upward from under his arm—thrust, not slash.
The blade burst out from his shoulder, dripping with blood.
For a heartbeat, Ge Jingchun could only stare in disbelief—his body trembling as icy terror spread through him.
He tried to pull free, but his body was pinned in place by the steel driven through him.
Then came a muffled sound—a sharp twist—and one of his arms was severed cleanly.
A second later, cold bit into his ankles. He glanced down to see blood streaming from where his feet had been.
He lifted his legs instinctively—only to realize they no longer had feet attached.
With a dull thud, he collapsed face-first into the dirt.
A calm voice echoed from above him.
"You told me to come out," it said. "Now that I'm out—what will you do?"
(End of Chapter)
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