YUAN SANSI recalled something a senior from his sect had once told him. When five martial arts masters had besieged Huanyue Sect Leader Yan Wushi, it hadn't mattered how formidable he was. Under their combined assault, he had nearly lost his life.
At present, Feng Xiao faced not just the formidable enemy Yuan Sansi, but eleven other first-tier martial artists. Even the most skilled grandmaster in the world would find themselves as helpless as Yan Wushi in this situation.
The pavilion leader had given orders that Cui Buqu was to be spared, but Feng Xiao should be killed. There was no need to hold back.
Feng Xiao must die.
The eleven experts moved in sync with Yuan Sansi. No matter what, Feng Xiao would meet his end today. There was no chance he'd walk out of this tavern.
Although the tavern door was open, no one with eyes would dare enter upon seeing the commotion within. As it was, people in the city could barely feed themselves after the recent downpour and flooding; no one was in the mood to come in for a drink.
Yet as the battle unfolded in the rafters, someone did walk through the door. He wore black robes and a black cloak, and his pace and demeanor were leisurely as he fanned himself and looked around.
The eleven experts all turned to stare. But not only did they fail to teach this uninvited guest who'd foolishly overestimated himself a lesson, their expressions went strange, as if they'd seen a ghost.
The sky wasn't yet fully dark, though night was closing in. It was the time when monsters, ghosts, and demons came out to roam.
The uninvited guest acted as if nothing was amiss, not even glancing up at the rafters. He chose a seat and sat down, tapping the table with his fan. "Such a fine tavern, yet no one's selling any wine?"
His appearance and voice were identical to Feng Xiao's.
Could it be that the first Feng Xiao was an imposter, and the Feng Xiao who'd just come in was the real one?
It wasn't just the eleven experts who were staring. Yuan Sansi also caught sight of the newcomer. One person might wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but if all twelve of them saw it, it must be so: There really were two identical Feng Xiaos.
In a duel between experts, nothing was more important than maintaining focus. Yuan Sansi spared only a quick glance at the new Feng Xiao, but this was enough—faster than the blink of an eye, someone slipped through the gaps between his palm attacks, and zither strings shot soundlessly toward his face.
Yuan Sansi moved to block without a second thought, but his foe attacked from the other side too. Pain throbbed through his shoulder, and he groaned and stumbled, falling from the rafters. Before his feet touched the ground, he slung himself around a pillar and swept toward Feng Xiao once more.
At the same time, the eleven masters all rushed toward the other Feng Xiao, who stood as solidly as a mountain.
The second Feng Xiao laughed loudly. He didn't wait to meet them head-on, but flitted behind the wine jar cabinets. Amid the palm blasts and flashing blades, the wine jars fell and shattered, their contents sloshing onto the floor. The wine's rich fragrance poured into the martial experts' lungs with every inhale, filling them with a rush of intoxication.
Many of these martial experts possessed a keen sense of smell. The two Feng Xiaos shared an identical stature and voice, but there were subtle differences in their scents. Thanks to the wine jars shattering, the aroma of wine clung to everyone, making them wholly indistinguishable.
A new silhouette appeared in the doorway—another Feng Xiao.
This time, no one was shocked. The third Feng Xiao laughed brightly. "What a coincidence, Lao-Yuan. Have you been well?"
Yuan Sansi didn't deign to respond. He and the Feng Xiao fighting in the rafters separated and landed, one on either side of the roof.
Three Feng Xiaos. One in the rafters, one standing on the wine jar fragments, and one in the doorway. The three were indistinguishable.
Who could be certain there wouldn't be a fourth?
Yuan Sansi gave a sneering laugh. "Petty tricks! Feng Xiao, you always saw yourself as better than everyone else. Yet you resort to such methods to keep yourself alive?"
Of course three Feng Xiaos couldn't really exist; it had to be a disguise. Even if no one could distinguish between them from their appearances alone, the three Feng Xiaos couldn't possibly all wield the same signature weapon.
"Lao-Yuan," said the Feng Xiao at the door. "You brought eleven people to ambush me, but you won't allow me to use any helpers? What's that they say—state officials are allowed to set fires, but the common folk aren't allowed to light a lamp?"
The Feng Xiao in the rafters sighed. "Now look how you've embarrassed him. The Thirteen Floors of Yunhai have already used up all their tricks!"
The Feng Xiao standing beside the wine cabinet laughed arrogantly. "Xiao Lü doesn't have the courage to face us himself. He's pushed you out as a pawn instead. Lao-Yuan, as one of the most vital members of the organization, don't you feel frustrated?"
Yuan Sansi turned a deaf ear. He swooped down from the rafters like a diving falcon, wind and lightning behind him. One palm became ten, ten became a thousand, until hundreds of thousands of afterimages howled toward Feng Xiao from all directions.
Night had fallen, and the tavern lanterns swayed as the wind gusted in. The candle flames wavered, casting their flickering light over the chaotic interior. The eleven masters melted into shadows as they swept toward the two Feng Xiaos on the ground. Each held unique weapons and had differing proficiencies in qinggong, the swiftest quickly taking the lead.
The ones who were half a step behind would forever be grateful for the inferiority of their skills. It saved their lives.
The Feng Xiao beside the cabinet leapt into the air, his palm strikes surging with a force that could topple mountains as he confronted the three rushing toward him.
The Feng Xiao at the door smoothly unshouldered the zither on his back. Bolstered by his qi, the instrument soared into the air and spun rapidly until a slender yet powerful hand steadied it. Fingers plucked the strings, and music poured out. Though the notes were monotonous, the energy-infused sound waves had already reached their target—the three frontmost martial experts felt blood trickle from their ears as their heads began to ring, filled only with this single sound.
Like a blizzard of snowflakes or a ferocious downpour, the noise reached its crescendo before abruptly cutting off, leaving silence behind. Blood poured from their noses and mouths as the world spun around them, their movements becoming sluggish.
The zither-wielding Feng Xiao snorted coldly, but to them, that small sound was like the ringing of a great bronze bell, striking them squarely in the chest. Their bodies went rigid as Feng Xiao struck them with the zither, the force behind their blades instantly falling away. Twice he swung the zither, then three times. None were spared as they screamed and went flying.
Up in the rafters, Yuan Sansi was still embroiled in combat with the first Feng Xiao when he noticed the situation on the ground. His lip curled.
When Feng Xiao had pretended to join the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai, he had relayed his background to the other directors. Yuan Sansi knew he was the leader of the Fajing Sect, and that this sect was unique among the three demonic sects for using zithers as weapons. The Feng Xiao on the ground was wielding the zither masterfully, so there was no doubt he was the real one. The man in front of him was an obvious fake.
Two cold rays of light flew from Yuan Sansi's sleeves, one arcing toward his foe's neck and the other sweeping in from behind toward his foe's dantian in his lower abdomen. Feng Xiao dropped down, but Yuan Sansi had anticipated this move too. A sneer hung on his lips as he raised a hand and shot a third ray of light. The wind from his palm followed, whistling down toward the top of Feng Xiao's head.
Feng Xiao was mid-fall; he shouldn't be able to call upon his internal energy now. Even if he managed to withstand Yuan Sansi's assault, he'd have no chance to counterattack. Once that palm hit, it would either shatter his skull or leave him gravely injured, throwing his blood and qi into chaos.
Someone screamed nearby.
Feng Xiao's dark cloak flared as he soared upward like a black-feathered phoenix, only to swoop back down toward the ground. It was a sight as arrogant as it was dazzling, unmatched in glory. The string in his hand was as sharp as any blade, capable of cleaving stone and steel. Two heads rolled to the floor.
Feng Xiao remained unyielding, his speed and momentum unstoppable as he lunged forward. The tavern was like the swirling maelstrom at the beginning of time. Wherever his black robes swept, a crimson trail followed in his wake. He sliced through the primordial chaos, and thousands of ghosts howled in the desolate night.
The metallic stink of blood had come to overshadow the fragrance of wine. Feng Xiao was merciless in his attack. The eleven first-tier experts became nothing but novices before his onslaught, unable to keep up or fight back. The three Feng Xiaos seemed to overlap before separating again, as if he had truly split himself into three.
Could there really be three Feng Xiaos? one of the eleven thought in a daze.
The man's surname was Zhu, given name Yeqing. He hailed from the Songshan Sect and wielded a sword. The Songshan Sect wasn't a large one, but Zhu Yeqing was exceptionally talented. At the age of twenty-five, he'd singlehandedly defeated the Three Heroes of the Gobi, a triumph that elevated him to fame. Liuli Palace of Fangzhang Isle ranked him thirty-seventh on their list. Everyone aspired to be the strongest in the world, and he'd made it into the top fifty. He was no ordinary expert.
Tonight he'd planned to use Feng Xiao's death to propel his reputation to even greater heights—but he'd never anticipated his enemy would be so powerful.
Zhu Yeqing had studied martial arts diligently since childhood with the goal of becoming renowned throughout the land. Now, he knew he'd never achieve this dream in this lifetime. Ghostly shadows danced, and the lamplight dazzled. When the last glimmer disappeared, like a candle snuffed in the wind, Zhu Yeqing's vision went dark forever.
Around him, the fight went on.
The remaining masters knew tonight's battle was a fight to the death. There was no room for compromise or mercy. Feng Xiao had to die—if he didn't, every one of them would die in his stead.
Yuan Sansi's palm met one of the Feng Xiaos; qi surged wildly between them. Both men were repelled to opposite sides of the tavern, where they landed firmly on their feet. Yuan Sansi was flagging. His qi and blood were boiling, but he forced himself to swallow the coppery blood down. He didn't know if Feng Xiao was in a similar state, but he didn't dare take the gamble.
His certainty in his own victory was gone. Yuan Sansi knew too well that doubt would cause him to falter. He suddenly remembered something the pavilion leader had said to him before he left. Feng Xiao had used the two sarira, and his martial arts had greatly improved. He was now a formidable nemesis of the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai who must be eliminated at all costs.
Although Yuan Sansi knew Feng Xiao was an excellent martial artist, at the time, he'd refused to see that the pavilion leader's words had been a warning to Yuan Sansi himself. Now he had to admit that the pavilion leader was right. Feng Xiao's lightning-fast progress and prodigious talent were truly unmatched. What was more, he wielded the authority of the Jiejian Bureau and shared a peculiar relationship with Cui Buqu. Two men—one outstanding in martial arts and the other in wisdom—learning from each other's strengths to bridge their weaknesses.
How could the Thirteen Floors leave such a powerful enemy alive?
All at once, the tavern went quiet. Even the strong wind outside seemed to have been strangled, unable to make a sound.
Including Yuan Sansi, six experts remained. As for Feng Xiao, there were still three of him. He'd killed half of Yuan Sansi's men.
Yuan Sansi's doubts continued to grow. The ability to split oneself into multiple copies was the stuff of myth and legend. It was impossible for Feng Xiao to really create two more of himself—but there were also very few people at his level of martial arts. Of them, who would rush over to willingly play his doppelganger?
There had to be differences in the martial arts of their three opponents, and they were certain to have unique weaknesses too. As long as Yuan Sansi could identify the copies and leave them to the other experts while he focused on the real Feng Xiao, his chances of victory would be greatly increased.
Yuan Sansi centered himself, closed his eyes, and listened for the enemy's movements in the darkness. The tavern was silent. It was as if even their breathing had stopped.
Blood clung to the silk zither string, flowing along until it condensed into a fat drop. Finally, the silk could no longer bear their weight; the drop plinked to the ground.
One of the Feng Xiaos made the slightest movement—an unconscious action. This person was the weakest martial artist of the three.
Yuan Sansi whistled, and two of the experts leapt forward to attack the Feng Xiao who'd moved. One of the remaining two Feng Xiaos couldn't resist darting over to save his companion. That person was also a copy!
Three more experts struck.
Yuan Sansi didn't hesitate. He gathered all the cold light in his hands and transformed it into a long sword, lunging toward the last Feng Xiao.
***
The riot at the governor's residence was quickly quelled.
The victims and death row prisoners had been locked away for a long time; they were greatly weakened. Under the leadership of the Zuoyue guards, they'd relied on the strength of their own outrage and the lack of sentries to capture the residence. The instant Cui Buqu arrived with soldiers, the situation was swiftly contained.
Pei Jingzhe, arriving shortly after, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Cui Buqu had avoided harming any of the refugees.
Perhaps his relief was too obvious, because Cui Buqu's mouth curved faintly. "Were you worried I'd use the refugees to free us from our predicament, then order them killed to tie up loose ends?"
Pei Jingzhe went red. "It was a foolish thought."
"I may not be a good person, but I've no interest in attacking unarmed civilians. If not for the flood and Yang Yun's corruption, they'd just be ordinary people. They'll be our best witnesses against Yang Yun, Wu Yi, and the others. Go gather everyone up and take a tally. Keep them in one place; don't let them run around and cause trouble. Then search the governor's residence. Yang Yun has hidden a portion of the grain here somewhere. When you find it, make some congee for these people. Let them eat first."
Pei Jingzhe snapped to attention and hurried away at once, completely forgetting that Cui Buqu was the chief of the Zuoyue Bureau and technically had no power to give him orders.
Rong Qing piped up. "Cui-xiansheng, how can I help?"
"The death row prisoners are still mixed in with the victims of the flood. Find the register and figure out who the real criminals are, and who were unjustly imprisoned by Yang Yun. It'll be hard work."
But this kind of work was Rong Qing's specialty. He eagerly got started.
The governor's residence was in shambles thanks to the refugees, and many had taken advantage of the chaos to plunder Yang Yun's more valuable treasures. Cui Buqu, however, had ordered the two Zuoyue guards to focus their search on Yang Yun's study. Now they reported that they'd indeed found something strange there.
Yang Yun was hauled over, his hands tied behind his back. Cui Buqu led him into the study, where the floor tiles under the desk had been removed, revealing a dark hole.
Important dignitaries often had separate entrances to their rooms. Even then, if they had unsavory secrets to keep, they also needed places like this to hide the evidence. Yang Yun was unsurprised to see the secret chamber opened. He'd been pale and silent this entire time, but now he spoke: "Cui Buqu, I can't stop you from going in—but I beg of you, please go alone. This matter concerns the reputation of the royal family. Unrelated persons must not know!"
"Did you not think of the royal family's reputation when you did these things?" Cui Buqu asked curiously. "Or did you remember that your surname is Yang only now?"
"I guarantee there are no traps inside," cried Yang Yun hoarsely. "But there are some things only you should see!"
"The Zuoyue Bureau is bound by duty. There is nothing we cannot know," said Cui Buqu coldly.
The two of them were standing very close in the lamplight. The longer Cui Buqu gazed at him, the more he felt that Yang Yun resembled someone he'd seen before.
Cui Buqu didn't comment on it. He asked the two Zuoyue guards to send Yang Yun in first to light the lamp, then followed, descending step by step down the stone staircase into the secret chamber.
The candle flamed to life, and Cui Buqu and the two Zuoyue guards looked around, stunned.