DUAN QIHU WAS HOLDING ON to life by a thread. His limbs had been hacked off, and only his head and torso remained. After that scream, he only had strength left to groan. He stared with round eyes, his breaths growing shallower with every exhale.
Yan Xuexing stood before him. Rather than stop Duan Qihu's bleeding, he'd subjected him to grievous torture and followed it with a stab to the gut. The moment Duan Qihu had abandoned his family to secure his own safety, Yan Xuexing knew threatening them was pointless. This man was selfish to the core: in the face of death, he cared only for himself. If Yan Xuexing wished him to suffer, physical torture was the only option.
Considering Duan Qihu's long list of crimes, Cui Buqu wouldn't have felt a scrap of sympathy if Yan Xuexing had dug out his eyes and cut off his nose in the process. But it was clear Duan Qihu was in no condition to reveal any more secrets about the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai.
Yan Xuexing sneered when he saw them. "Did you want to kill him too? Apologies; I got to him first."
He bent and tapped several of Duan Qihu's acupoints, staunching the bleeding, then channeled internal energy into his victim. It wasn't that his heart had suddenly softened; rather, Yan Xuexing ensured Duan Qihu would live a little longer so that he could torture him a little more.
He grabbed Duan Qihu by the back of his collar, ready to drag him off. But Cui Buqu had suffered quite the ordeal to get here and refused to leave empty-handed. He cried out, "Distinguished Master, please wait!"
Yan Xuexing continued to walk, as if he hadn't heard.
Xiao Lü pushed off the ground with a tap of his toes, his sword glare sweeping toward Yan Xuexing, incomparably fierce. Yan Xuexing hadn't thought much of this newcomer, yet now he realized the sword glare had sealed all possible exits. He had no choice but to toss Duan Qihu aside and meet the attack with all his strength.
Wrapped in a flurry of sword glares, the two exchanged several blows before breaking apart.
Yan Xuexing finally showed a hint of surprise. "Who are you?"
Xiao Lü dropped down from a tree, sleeves billowing as he fell. His long hair came loose from its topknot and fluttered around his shoulders. Though his hair was jet-black, the ends were a stark and snowy white. He wielded his sword in his left hand, but it wasn't because this was his natural inclination. Rather…
Cui Buqu recalled those popular evaluations of Xiao Lü as he swept his gaze over his right sleeve. Xiao Lü's wide sleeves engulfed his hands, but when the spring breeze brushed them, it revealed a secret: his right hand was withered and skeletal as a winter branch. It almost couldn't be called a hand at all.
Branches should have grown on trees, but this one had grown on a person. Xiao Lü had a handsome face, his demeanor no less elegant than Feng Xiao's. Yet a single disability rendered his flawless beauty irrevocably tarnished. His complexion was fair; beneath the sun, it shone with a faint luster. Even the hand with which he held his sword was slender and beautiful. But the more perfect his other qualities, the more hideous and frightening that withered hand appeared in contrast.
The Southern dynasty did employ exams when selecting officials, but what mattered most was family background, followed by character and appearance. Scholarly talents were last to be considered. Xiao Lü was a descendant of the ruling clan of a previous dynasty, and he had an ugly physical disability. The current emperor of Southern Chen had no love for promoting unconventional talents. No matter how brilliant he might be, advancement was difficult.
Thus, though people praised him greatly, they always added that final remark: what a pity. What a pity heaven marred what should have been a perfect jade with this tiny flaw.
Cui Buqu, too, had heard this tale; since he'd learned Xiao Lü's identity in the secret chamber, he wasn't surprised. But when Yan Xuexing saw, he couldn't hide his shock.
Xiao Lü seemed accustomed to this kind of look. He said calmly, "I also bear a grudge against Duan Qihu. My good brother, you've tortured him enough. I have a question to ask him, and past grievances to repay. Please give him to me."
Yan Xuexing's lip curled. "Ask that after you defeat me!"
He sprang toward Xiao Lü, and his sword cut through the air, overflowing with a radiance like brilliant starlight. As he'd just used it to torture Duan Qihu, it was bathed in blood and vibrating with a murderous aura, growing colder and ghastlier by the second.
Faced with this overwhelming bloodlust, Xiao Lü stood his ground. Instead of falling back, he crashed against the current. With a gentle shake of his left hand, his sword glare split into thousands of rays of light, enveloping his figure in brilliance. Watching from the sidelines, Cui Buqu couldn't tell which of the swift silhouettes within held the upper hand.
Cui Buqu turned from the fight and walked toward Duan Qihu. Deprived of his limbs, what was left of the man lay motionless on the ground. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest showed he was alive.
He was a former highwayman who'd led his band to pillage, burn, and kill in pursuit of wealth. Later, he'd washed his hands clean, transforming himself into a powerful mogul in Qiemo. In a sense, he was a self-made man. Even the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai had seen his influence and persuaded him to join. Unfortunately he'd balked at confronting an enemy as powerful as the Sui dynasty. Had he agreed to their proposal, Cui Buqu would likely have found him much harder to deal with.
Sensing Cui Buqu's approach, Duan Qihu opened swollen eyes brimming with shock and terror. One of the most formidable men of his generation had been reduced to a mess of flesh, yet he had no one to blame but himself. Cui Buqu had wanted to ask him a question, but he soon realized Duan Qihu was motionless, his eyes still half-open. Perhaps he'd thought Cui Buqu was Yan Xuexing returning—his footsteps had scared him to death.
In the end, Cui Buqu had no more answers than he'd had at the start; everything had been in vain. A rare gloom stole over him when he thought of his miscalculations. Resigned, he searched Duan Qihu's body and discovered a wrinkled letter.
Duan Qihu was covered in his own gore, and the letter was likewise streaked with bloodstains. Luckily Cui Buqu lacked Feng Xiao's obsession with cleanliness; he casually stuffed the paper into his lapels.
Across the courtyard, Xiao Lü and Yan Xuexing sprang apart. Yan Xuexing glanced coolly over. Upon seeing Duan Qihu dead, he turned and left without another word.
Xiao Lü came over and stared down at Duan Qihu's corpse. He sighed. "Poor Mei-niang and those other innocent women; they've suffered unspeakably. A monster like him could die a hundred times and it wouldn't pay for what they've been through."
"Xiao-xiong, the girl you saved was from Mount Huang Sect, south of the Yangtze River. How did she end up captive in a border town thousands of miles away?"
Xiao Lü's smile was rueful. "A great many dangers lurk in the jianghu; it has always been so. Mei-niang grew up sheltered within her sect; she never experienced the darkness outside. Plenty of villains exist who abduct people into slavery, and Mei-niang is beautiful and was traveling home alone. She thought her martial arts would protect her and became a natural target. When I first started searching, I traced her from Jiangnan, where she was abducted, all the way north. She even went through Daxing before she was taken west through the border pass. How much hardship did she endure? And her family…"
He sighed and said no more.
But Cui Buqu understood. Any notable family would worry about the damage Mei-niang's experience would do to their own reputation. And it wasn't only Mei-niang. Though all the women in the stone chamber's lives were saved, the fates that awaited them were murky.
"I need to escort Mei-niang home," said Xiao Lü. "Would Cui-xiandi5 be willing to share his given name? If fate wills it, perhaps we'll meet again in the jianghu."
"My name is Buqu."
"Have you a courtesy name, or a sobriquet?"
"I do not," said Cui Buqu.
To address someone directly by their given name was rather impolite. For instance, Xiao Lü's sobriquet was Songxue, and thus many would respectfully address him as Songxue-xiansheng. Others, on more intimate terms, might instead address him according to his place in the family.
"Then what about your family, have you any siblings?"
"My parents died when I was young. I have no teacher, no father, and no brothers or sisters. I have no family, so I have no other name besides Buqu."
Xiao Lü cupped his hands in apology. "It seems I've asked a rude question." His withered right hand peeked out of his sleeve.
"Not at all; I surprised you."
Xiao Lü, when he saw the direction of Cui Buqu's gaze, casually lowered his right hand.
"I've been ill my entire life," Cui Buqu said calmly. "Some of the physicians who saw me said I wouldn't live to see nine, while others said I'd scarcely make it to six. Consultation after consultation concluded I would pass prematurely, but I have persisted until now. They say man plans and the heavens laugh, but we are the ones who determine our paths. People always forget that. It seems both Xiao-xiong and I are people who reject our fates."
Xiao Lü laughed heartily. "Well said, Buqu!"
There came a mocking click of the tongue, and a figure appeared just steps away from them.
"There I was out in front, exerting myself half to death, yet Daoist Master Cui was over here happily making friends. As expected, the moment you meet someone new, you throw aside your old companions!"
Xiao Lü was taken aback. Another martial artist of unfathomable skill had arrived.