DUAN QIHU had joined the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai completely by accident.
In those years, he'd recently turned over a new leaf, washing his hands of his marauding bandit lifestyle to settle down in Qiemo and make a proper living as a merchant.
Of course, proper wasn't entirely accurate. All his early wealth had been gotten unlawfully, and he'd amassed a group of loyal subordinates. He had no shortage of money or people. His transformation from bandit to powerful business mogul was unnaturally quick.
Upon his arrival in Qiemo, Cui Buqu had seen how Duan Qihu and Xing Mao had monopolized the business interests of the city. Even the inns were split between the two, half and half. If they declined to stay at one of Duan Qihu's inns, they'd have to go to one of Xing Mao's instead. There was little other choice.
But back when Duan Qihu had first established himself in Qiemo, it hadn't been so. In addition to Xing Mao, several other factions had held stakes in the city. The roots of Duan Qihu's influence were yet shallow—a foreign dragon couldn't defeat local snakes, and when it came to scheming, he wasn't necessarily their equal. Several other men of influence had joined forces and approached Xing Mao, proposing they work together to drive Duan Qihu out of Qiemo.
It was then that a man came knocking, claiming to be Yuheng, the eleventh director of the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai.
Duan Qihu had never heard of any such organization, but Yuheng got straight to the point: he'd help Duan Qihu eliminate the competition and establish himself in Qiemo—provided he joined the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai as their twelfth director.
At the time, Duan Qihu was being crushed by multiple factions. Despite his doubts, he was so frazzled and anxious he agreed to Yuheng's improbable offer.
But Yuheng kept his word. Not only did he assassinate several of Duan Qihu's enemies, thus resolving his immediate crisis, he also introduced Duan Qihu to silk and porcelain merchants in Jiangnan. Those connections allowed Duan Qihu to build relationships with merchants across the north and south, slowly growing his network. Within a few years, he'd risen to become Xing Mao's rival.
At the same time, he discovered the vast scope of the organization he'd joined. From north to south, across all classes of society, there seemed to be no one the Thirteen Floors couldn't reach. Duan Qihu was too seasoned to believe there was such a thing as a free lunch—he knew he'd inevitably have to pay for what he gained. But beyond making him the twelfth director and supporting his rise to power, the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai never asked him to do anything.
When Shisan-xiansheng, Feng Xiaolian, who was ranked last among the floors, appeared in Qiemo, Duan Qihu had encountered her by chance. After removing her makeup, the legendary concubine became just another fair-faced woman. Duan Qihu had always been a lecherous man, but he didn't dare harbor any untoward thoughts toward Feng Xiaolian. Though she was a rank beneath him, she was far from weak—as a martial artist, she was his equal.
If people of Duan Qihu and Feng Xiaolian's status ranked at the bottom of the Thirteen Floors, how strong and skilled were the people above them? Duan Qihu didn't want to dig any further. Knowing too much would only endanger him, so he chose ignorance.
Yet one day, Yuheng appeared again. He demanded Duan Qihu bring down Gao Yi and eliminate Xing Mao, taking control as the true ruler of Qiemo. The Thirteen Floors of Yunhai, he said, would lend Duan Qihu their full support. Money or manpower—if he required them, he need only say the word.
Duan Qihu, however, felt no enthusiasm for this scheme. His heart sank; he had accepted their help, and now it was time to pay his debt.
He was more than happy with the status quo. No longer did he have to live with his hands soaked in blood. He spent each day in great comfort, enjoying his reputation and his wealth. Those who had despised him for his background now had to hold their noses and try to please him.
As Duan Qihu aged, he'd grown fearful of death and change. He might have reluctantly agreed to kill Xing Mao, but behind Magistrate Gao Yi stood Great Sui. Duan Qihu wasn't so arrogant as to believe he could take on the entire Sui dynasty.
The Sui emperor was currently embroiled in a war with the Göktürks, which perhaps left them without attention to spare for Qiemo's petty politics. But the moment that ended, Duan Qihu refused to believe trifling Qiemo could stand up to Great Sui.
In Yuheng's instructions, Duan Qihu glimpsed a sliver of a grand and terrifying plan. He came to a realization: if the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai were a pool of water, it was one whose depths he couldn't fathom.
Thus he politely rebuffed Yuheng, promising to give it careful consideration. But in truth, he was drawing things out in the hope it'd come to nothing. Multiple visits from Yuheng had failed to persuade him. A desire to leave the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai grew instead. He'd accumulated enough money and power to spend the rest of his life in peace and comfort. There was no need to take any more risks.
Yuheng must have sensed his thoughts because he didn't come again. Duan Qihu had breathed a sigh of relief, yet he was still uneasy. The Thirteen Floors of Yunhai had invested so much in him. He doubted they would let him go without a fight.
With this in mind, he'd secretly trained a troop of loyal guards and surrounded himself in layer after layer of protections. He'd even dug out several secret underground rooms in his estate, just in case. But time passed and neither Yuheng nor the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai came knocking.
The moment he'd heard the ghost, Duan Qihu knew it was no vengeful spirit. It was someone masquerading as a dead woman to kill him. Perhaps this trick was devised by Xing Mao, or perhaps it was the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai—perhaps the two had even teamed up.
Duan Qihu had therefore rushed to strike first. But he hadn't expected either Yan Xuexing or Cui Buqu.
However one schemed and plotted, it was nothing in the face of fate.
After Duan Qihu had stammered out this story, he watched Cui Buqu pondering. The other three were still fighting; for the moment, there was no one watching him. He quickly rose and lurched toward the shadows.
Something whistled through the air behind him; he screamed and collapsed to the ground, an arrow protruding from his shoulder. More sharp arrows shot toward the three combatants.
Cui Buqu stood behind the colonnade, avoiding the rain of arrows, and looked up. Several figures had appeared on the rooftop, bows in hand and arrows nocked to stings. They took aim at the crowd in the courtyard.
In the wake of their next volley, Xing Mao coolly and confidently led a group through the gates. At his side was a monk clad in white.
This had to be Shiyi-xiansheng, Yuheng of the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai. He smiled at Duan Qihu and casually looked away, as if the master of this estate was no more than a stray cur. He indeed looked very much like the monk Yuxiu, but the moment he spoke, Cui Buqu knew this wasn't the same man.
"Haven't you heard the saying, 'the mantis stalks the cicada while the oriole waits behind'?"
Duan Qihu was the cicada and Yan Xuexing and Bing Xian the mantises. Cui Buqu and Feng Xiao had fancied themselves the orioles—unaware that Yuheng and Xing Mao would snatch the final victory.
This man's voice was nothing like Yuxiu's. When Cui Buqu and Feng Xiao had tailed him, they'd seen him talking to the third steward of the Xing residence, but they hadn't heard him speak. Yet Yuheng and Yuxiu were both white-clad monks with similar names. What was the relationship between them?
Cui Buqu frowned as he considered it. He wasn't a martial artist—other than Bing Xian, no one on the scene spared him a thought. That was perfect for him; he was happy to hide behind the colonnade and observe.
In addition to Yuheng, Xing Mao had several other martial experts around him. Each wore a different style of dress, unlike his subordinates. These must be free agents he'd recruited from the jianghu. Everyone was hemmed in by the Xing family's guards, who surrounded the Duan residence and stood on the eaves.
On Duan Qihu's side, Steward Lin and the loyal soldiers he'd taken were nowhere to be found. Yan Xuexing had killed his remaining guards, and Xing Mao had probably cleaned up the rest on his way in.
There was no hope for him now.
"Don't be so happy just yet!" Duan Qihu's face was stained with blood, his hair disheveled as he stared unswervingly at Xing Mao. He had not a scrap of his former might as one of Qiemo's great overlords. He'd fought his nemesis for so long, and in all that time, neither had been able to gain the upper hand. Never had he expected the outcome of their battle would be determined today.
Xing Mao laughed heartily, completely at ease. "Good brother, are you thinking of your dozens of loyal guards? Why, they are waiting for you in the underworld!"
"Impossible!" said Duan Qihu.
"Speaking of which," Xing Mao continued, "you spared no effort training them. If not for Steward Lin's advance warning, I might have been in quite a spot. To think your loyal subordinate would betray you."
Duan Qihu let out a wail of despair. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, and his face flushed a deeper crimson. "Impossible! Impossible! Lin Feng would never betray me!"
Xing Mao clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. He had no patience for more talk; he waved a hand. "Seize the Duan family! All of them!"
"Wait a minute!" Yan Xuexing said coldly. "The Duan family's lives are mine! Only I have the right to punish them!"
Xing Mao lifted a brow. "Are you also here to kill Duan Qihu? No problem at all. I'll chop off his head and you can have the body. As for the women, children, and elderly, you may watch from there as I deal with them."
"No." Yan Xuexing rejected him firmly. "My grudge against him is deep; I must punish him personally!"
Xing Mao was growing restless. "Whoever is stronger has the final say!" He glanced at Yuheng.
The monk nodded and smiled. "Duan Qihu must die today."
Xing Mao took a step back and cupped his hands politely. "I leave this to you," he said to the group behind him.
The first to step forward was a scholar waving a fan. "Please allow this one to challenge you, distinguished disciple of Linchuan Academy!"
Before Xing Mao had arrived, Yan Xuexing and Feng Xiao were enemies. Now that he'd appeared, the situation had changed again.
Feng Xiao and Cui Buqu wanted to preserve Duan Qihu's life until they could make him spit up more secrets about the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai. Yan Xuexing sought Duan Qihu's death but didn't want him to perish in the hands of Xing Mao. Thus they reached a temporary truce. As the scholar attacked Yan Xuexing, Feng Xiao withdrew and watched from the side.
This scholar didn't look like much, but his skills were impressive. His iron-boned fan became an impenetrable barrier, cutting off Yan Xuexing's avenues of attack. But his internal cultivation was far below that of Yan Xuexing—though his moves were uncanny, he soon found himself unable to keep up. In the next moment, two others standing beside Xing Mao moved, one wielding a sword, the other a saber.
The sword was dark and plain, an unremarkable sight. In contrast, the saber shone with golden light. When it was unsheathed in the darkness, the watchers were almost blinded.
Feng Xiao was an excellent martial artist, but he rarely wandered the jianghu and knew nothing of his assailants' backgrounds. Fortunately there was a walking encyclopedia next to him, one who knew practically all there was to know about the wide world.
"The swordsman is Wang Hong, also known in the jianghu as the Nameless Sword. Though his sword is nameless, its wielder is quite well known. He specializes in unconventional tricks, and his master is a Miao man from the southwest, where they use poisonous gu insects. He uses them as well, to fell his opponents when their guards are down." Cui Buqu seemed to have intuited Feng Xiao's thoughts; his voice rang out right away.
Yan Xuexing cocked his head as a silent breeze brushed past his ear. Bing Xian flicked a finger; a black insect fell to the ground, her silver needle piercing its body.
Yan Xuexing glanced in Cui Buqu's direction. Had he not spoken, Yan Xuexing might have fallen for this trick.
"The man with the saber is Hu Yun, known for his wealth and virtue alike. He hails from a rich family in Shaanxi; food and clothing are never his worries. Gold is a soft metal, but he hired a skilled blacksmith to forge his golden saber. The gold was refined and mixed with iron before quenching. Ordinary swords are powerless before it, and his saber techniques are considered second-tier." Cui Buqu spoke quickly and calmly, outlining the key points of his history.
Listening, Hu Yun grew agitated. "You asshole, who are you calling second-tier?!"
Yan Xuexing's foot slammed into the saber wielder's gut and sent him flying; his golden saber landed with a clang.
The scholar chuckled. "Hu Yun, looks like your luck has run out!"
"The Fan-Wielding Scholar, Yue Xiafeng," Cui Buqu went on. "His weapon of choice is an iron-boned fan. He's a fearsome fighter at close range, but at a distance…"
Bing Xian's lips quirked in a knowing smile; she flicked her fingers again.
Yue Xiafeng had no choice but to abort his attack on Yan Xuexing to block her silver needles. Glimpsing an opening, Yan Xuexing slammed a palm into Yue Xiafeng's back, bringing up a mouthful of blood—a serious injury.
Bing Xian bowed to Cui Buqu. "Thank you kindly for your guidance, Daoist Master Cui."
"Maiden Bing Xian is the clever one," said Cui Buqu.
For some reason, Feng Xiao suddenly felt a twinge of displeasure.
He swept toward Xing Mao.
As Xing Mao stood shocked, the two experts remaining at his side sprang into action.
The first crooked his fingers slightly and grabbed at his face, while the other pinched his thumb and forefinger together as if plucking flowers. In truth he was holding a very fine thread, its edge sharper than most swords. With the aid of internal energy, this thread could slit an enemy's throat with a touch.
"Cloudcatcher Pei Yuan is a layman disciple from Shaolin Temple. His moves are heavy and powerful; he's known for his hard techniques that counter force with force. Defeat him with soft techniques that deflect his force and use it against him. Bai Bi, known as Moonwater Guanyin. A man with the delicate face of a woman, hence the sobriquet. But his silver-gold threads are practically mystical weapons. All those who've perished at his hands have underestimated him—"
Cui Buqu accurately pinpointed everyone's weaknesses. As he spoke, Feng Xiao raised his hands. Everywhere his true qi touched, Bai Bi's silken threads were sliced through.
Suddenly Cui Buqu fell quiet—a hand was clutching his throat.
Yuheng squeezed Cui Buqu's neck and smiled at Feng Xiao, who now had Xing Mao in his grasp. "Would you like to save a life, or take one?"
Pei Yuan and Bai Bi hadn't even seen Yuheng move; Feng Xiao had thrown them aside with their acupoints sealed.
Xing Mao's face was white with shock. He'd never imagined encountering variables like Feng Xiao and Cui Buqu as victory was within his reach. If not for them, Yan Xuexing and Bing Xian would have already been forced to withdraw. Anger exploded through him as he bellowed, "Yu-xiansheng, you can't abandon me!"