EVEN WHILE ENJOYING their wealth and glory to the utmost, men like Duan Qihu always prepared for the un- expected. It would be stranger if he didn't have some kind of secret passage, bolt-hole, or other avenue of guaranteed escape should the need arise.
Still, Cui Buqu had expected the entrance of Duan Qihu's secret passage to be somewhere more typical—in his study, perhaps, or under his bed. Instead, it was triggered by a mechanism behind the railing in the rear courtyard.
This courtyard would usually be bustling with people and theoretically provide no concealment at all. But this most unlikely of places had now become Duan Qihu's final thread of hope. As Cui Buqu jumped down into the gap, he mused that this couldn't be the only entrance. Otherwise, if Duan Qihu met with danger in his study or bedroom, certain death awaited him.
The tunnel slanted down at a steep angle. Duan Qihu must have spared no expense with the excavation; the walls and floors were smooth, devoid of any rough stones that could cause injury. After sliding down steadily, the ground suddenly disappeared beneath Cui Buqu's feet, and he dropped into thin air. A gentle arm reached out to hold him up, preventing him from tumbling head over heels.
"Thank you very much," he said softly.
"No need for such courtesies, Daoist Master Cui." Though it was too dark to see, Bing Xian, like him, had been observing their surroundings. "Yan-gongzi and Duan Qihu fell down here too. They can't have gone far."
But all around was silence, with no whisper or scuffle of movement. Wherever Yan Xuexing and Duan Qihu were, they weren't nearby.
"Let's take a look," said Cui Buqu.
Bing Xian had no objections. "It's pitch-black in here; even I can't see where we're going. Please follow closely, Daoist Master Cui, or I won't be able to save you if anything happens."
"Let me walk in front."
The tunnel was wide at some points and narrow at others—but even in the widest spots, it couldn't accommodate two people walking side by side. There would be nowhere to hide if they ran into danger. But if Cui Buqu walked behind Bing Xian, he'd likely crash into her in the dark—and that would be terribly awkward.
Bing Xian smiled in the gloom.
She'd met no shortage of men who used any excuse to take advantage of a woman, and just as many hypocrites stuffed with false integrity. Yet Cui Buqu's actions spoke for themselves—he simply drew a line between them. Bing Xian admired him greatly for it.
"No need," she said, "It's better if the Daoist master stays behind me."
She stepped out with one hand on the wall for guidance, slowly moving forward. "There should be some candlesticks along the wall; let me see… Found them."
Bing Xian took a firestarter from her lapel and lit the wick. A small glow flared to life, and both breathed a sigh of relief. Darkness meant the unknown, and people always feared what they couldn't comprehend. If any traps or mechanisms awaited them, this small glimmer of light would make them that much easier to see.
Bing Xian took the candlestick off the wall, hoping to light the surrounding candles as well. But the wicks had all burned down; even the candle in her hands was reaching its limit, burned down to a nub. For the candles to be in this state, people must come here often.
They looked around. They'd fallen into a man-made stone chamber. Its four walls were flat and smooth, but besides them, there was nothing else—no beds, no seats, nor any desk with ink and paper.
Bing Xian frowned.
Perhaps people came here often, but what did they do? Did they sit on the floor, or stand around talking until it was time to leave? Yet the slope of the entrance had been almost sheer. Climbing out wouldn't be easy.
Cui Buqu crouched down and touched the ground, then sniffed his fingertips. "Blood. They were just here."
Bing Xian was secretly ashamed. She'd looked at the four walls but neglected the ground beneath her feet. She crouched as well and looked where Cui Buqu was pointing. Sure enough, there were faint traces of blood, evidence someone had been dragged through the room.
Cui Buqu asked Bing Xian for the candlestick, then lay flat on the ground to examine the traces. Eventually he pointed toward one corner of the room. "They went through there."
The bloodstains twisted and turned, and the sand and small stones on the ground shifted with them. The traces were faint in places and heavy in others—it was unlikely Duan Qihu was faking his injury. Perhaps he couldn't walk properly, and his feet had stumbled. When Yan Xuexing caught up to him, he'd apparently been dragged along the ground until the traces of both men disappeared together into this empty corner.
There had to be a mechanism hidden in the floor tiles or walls. Without a moment to waste, Cui Buqu and Bing Xian both started searching. Cui Buqu's efforts were fruitless, but Bing Xian soon exclaimed, "Ah?"
Cui Buqu had barely turned his head when the ground beneath his feet began to quake. Startled, Bing Xian clutched at the wall and turned to grab Cui Buqu, too late—Cui Buqu was already falling. Her hand brushed past his, grasping air.
In the next instant, Cui Buqu's back slammed into the ground. Agony exploded through him as a reeking wind hit him full in the face, accompanied by the bellow of a beast. Pain tightened his chest and a cough surged in his throat, but at the sound of that animal roar, he choked it back.
For Bing Xian or Feng Xiao, avoiding a ferocious beast posed no problem. But such a confrontation was far beyond Cui Buqu's abilities. There was no escape; all he could do was close his eyes. In all his countless calculations, he'd never anticipated that rather than succumbing to incense of helplessness or perishing at the hands of Yuxiu or Yuheng, he'd meet his end mauled to death by some nameless predator in an underground hideout.
Without warning, a hand came down on his shoulder and yanked him backward. Cui Buqu fell into someone's arms as they rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the beast's claws.
The creature roared angrily at having missed and turned to make a second charge. Cui Buqu felt himself released, and there came a clang of a weapon as whoever had saved him faced the beast head-on.
In the darkness, human and beast fought in a tangle of limbs and claws. The beast had fancied Cui Buqu its dinner, yet someone had gotten in its way and was now wounding it all over. Impatient and hungry, it bellowed again and pounced at the newcomer, only for a sword glare to split its belly open. The creature collapsed to the floor with a dull thud.
A savage beast might be a terror to ordinary people, but it was no match for a skilled martial artist. And this person was more than skilled; they seemed to be an expert. Yet it wasn't Duan Qihu nor Yan Xuexing, and Feng Xiao didn't use a sword.
Who could it be?
Cui Buqu's thoughts felt sluggish; perhaps he was still disoriented from his fall. His mysterious savior spoke up:
"Are you all right?"
Cui Buqu coughed a few times, the familiar tang of blood stinging his throat. "Thank you very much, sir," he said hoarsely. "May I ask your name?"
"Xiao Lü."
Cui Buqu hesitated a moment. "Xiao. Cao radical?"
"Correct." Cui Buqu could hear a smile in his voice. "Lu as in 'stumbling forward.'"
Cui Buqu pressed a hand to his forehead and frowned, his mind still spinning. The name was familiar, but it was a moment before he recalled why. Sure enough, this was another famous name—in fact, an incredibly famous one.
What was so special about the Duan residence that it summoned such an assembly of heroes over the course of a single night?