Night had come.
Winter had passed. It was the period where cold snaps made their occasional reappearance as the weather warmed; amongst the fresh scent of nature, a hint of chill seeped through, especially apparent close to the water.
The river, which had just thawed, flowed by silently. By it stood a man in crimson with a blood-red birthmark the size of a palm over his cheek--he was none other than the Delighted Mourning Ghost Sun Ding. His face was turned aside to monitor his surroundings closely. One of his hands was splayed open, fingers slightly curled as it hung by his side. Under the light of the moon, a lustre that did not resemble that of ordinary skin reflected clearly off it.
Out of the blue, a few dark figures barrelled towards him. Sun Ding rose into the air, and swiftly engaged in a brawl with these men clothed in black garb.
Among the ten most abominable Ghosts of the Ghost Valley, though the "Delighted Mourning Ghost", "Hanged Ghost", and the "Ghost of Impermanence" were at the top, this did not mean that the other villainous characters were not skilled. These people had merely put down roots in the Ghost Valley long ago; they knew how to get people on their side and quash others, and had already become forces in their own right.
While Delighted Mourning Ghost Sun Ding's Raksha Palms were not at a level of skill that would have gone unmatched by any who came before or after him, they were, at least, a unique technique in the pugilist world of the Central Plains at present. Those who were struck died instantly within three steps. A blood-red palm print would be left on the corpse, from the front of the chest over the heart all the way through to the back. The technique was domineeringly formidable.
Though suddenly besieged late at night, he was not panicked. As though he was not afraid in the slightest, a pair of wicked palms hurtled in all directions, weaving a tight, all-encompassing formation. To him, they were mere bugs that had overestimated their abilities; before long, they fled, too weak to withstand even one blow. Yet, Sun Ding didn't give chase, but merely bent down and rucked up the clothes of one corpse. Glimpsing the ghost mask tattooed on the waist, he scoffed coldly.
Approximately less than half a shichen later, a man appeared from behind him and walked over. He frowned, bent to look at the ghost mask on the corpse's waist, and asked, "What happened?"
Sun Ding kept his hands back in his sleeves, swept a cool gaze over him, and said, "Lao Meng, you're late."
--This Lao Meng was none other than the assistant Gu Xiang had gotten to dig that day, when Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing had been deep in the enemy's lair. As usual, he was wearing common coarse clothes of cotton and linen. When he walked fast, one could tell that the left leg of this man was slightly lame, though it was not obvious and could only be identified upon very close observation. His features were plain; if he did not have a serious expression on, he even looked a little kind. His front was covered by a large apron usually seen on pig slaughterers--just as Wen Kexing had ordered, he had really changed into a butcher's outfit.
Lao Meng plucked the mask from that corpse's face, squatted on the ground to turn his thoughts over in his mind for a moment, then sighed and stood. Shaking his head, he said, "It's Xue Fang's lackey."
Raising his head, he saw Sun Ding staring at his large apron in interest, and explained, "I changed into this as per the Valley Master's command. Does Sun-xiong have any opinion about this?"
Sun Ding scoffed coldly, and said, "The Valley Master? Is that unweaned brat who won't be siring any descendants worth your scurrying back and forth to ingratiate yourself with him like a lapdog?"
Lao Meng's expression did not change, and merely said after he listened to him speak, "You can say that in his presence."
As though he had recalled something, the corner of Sun Ding's eye twitched, and he humphed coldly. Wisening up, he dropped this topic of conversation, pointing to the corpse on the ground as he said, "Since it is so, Lao Meng, why don't you report this to the Valley Master? Let him know how brazen that Xue Fang is: apart from breaking the rule by exiting the Valley without permission, he currently even wants to kill me out of humiliated anger."
Lao Meng frowned, and said, "I have not been able to contact the Valley Master of late…"
Impatient, Sun Ding asked, "What about that lass Purple Danger?"
Lao Meng shook his head again, and only asked, "Do you think Xue Fang is doing this for the Lapis Armour this time round too?"
When he mentioned the two words "Lapis Armour", the light in Sun Ding's eyes swiftly flickered once. Then he looked elsewhere, and said, "Xue Fang is very ambitious. I advise that you...and that Valley Master of yours, best operate cautiously. Otherwise...hmph."
Lao Meng was silent for a while, then he suddenly asked, "Were you the one who killed Shen Zhen?"
Hearing this, Sun Ding paused, raised an eyebrow, and asked in a drawl, "What, are you probing me for information?"
Lao Meng smiled ambiguously, and extended a finger to poke him in the chest. Lowering his voice, he said, "Sun-xiong, let us, as honest men, talk openly. Who doesn't want the Lapis Armour? It's not only the Hanged Ghost--the minor ghosts at the bottom are scheming to get in on the action as well. Even Long-Tongued Ghost, that thing, dared to set up the underground cave trap, putting his life on the line to do the Valley Master in...the person who acquires the Lapis Armour will be the next master of Fengya Mountain. If you don't want it, why are you keeping your eye on that little thing surnamed Zhang?"
Sun Ding choked. After a long while, he finally managed to say, "That's because I want to make that Zhang lad point Xue Fang out as the culprit!"
Lao Meng looked at him and merely smiled without comment. Sun Ding had always hated Lao Meng's smile, as he felt that this person smiled as though he was hiding numerous important secrets; like that demented master of his, Wen Kexing, it was impossible for others to tell what he was thinking. Impatient, he asked, "Ghost of Impermanence, what do you mean by this?"
Lao Meng shook his head, and said with a smile, "This, Sun-xiong does not have to worry about. That Zhang kid is with the Valley Master now. As long as he recalls it, he can point out the culprit any time--since Shen Zhen is dead, and the two pieces of Lapis Armour in the Gao Family Manor have disappeared without a trace, I say it's best if we apprehend Xue Fang first, then make a decision. What do you say?"
Sun Ding narrowed his eyes. His fierce gaze regarded that peaceful face for a while, then he humphed coldly, turned, and left.
At this moment, within the Puppet Manor enclosed by the thousands of great mountains in Shuzhong, the Valley Master Wen they spoke of was currently fighting Zhou Zishu for a blanket.
Spring had arrived, and Shuzhong grew warm even more quickly. The excuse of "the cloth covers, many years used, were cold as iron" was clearly rubbish now; Zhou Zishu had even specially instructed Zhang Chengling to tidy a room for this wandering swindler by the surname of Wen, but he still could not stop him from worming in on the dot.
Moreover, this person took advantage of his courtesy to be even more brazen: from the luggage he'd brought along in the beginning, he had turned increasingly shameless and now came over bare-handed, mooching off him for bed and blanket like it was only natural to do so.
A ratty blanket, tugged to and fro between two people. Be it the Qinna Locks or the Zhanyi Throws, a myriad of forms and styles of martial arts--as long as it was close at hand, they tried and tested them all. In the end, the both of them were close to sweating all over, and were warm enough to do without the blanket.
Ultimately, Zhou Zishu was no longer at the peak of his strength, and lost to him by a move after a hundred and ten or so rounds. Wen Kexing smugly clutched at the bigger half of the blanket with one hand, while his other hand pressed Zhou Zishu's wrist onto the pillow. Retracting his neck, he flashed a mouth of pearly white teeth at him, rejoicing, and even beckoned at him as he said, "A-Xu, come here. I'll cuddle you to sleep--you won't be cold for sure."
Zhou Zishu very much wanted to kick him off the bed, so he looked him up and down, scoffed coldly, and said, "You're neither perfumed nor soft, and your chest is a whole fucking row of ribs. Cuddle you? I might as well go cuddle with the bed base."
Wen Kexing glared at him immediately. Grabbing Zhou Zishu's hand, he placed it on his own chest, and said, "Nonsense! I'm not a row of ribs, if you don't believe it, feel it yourself!"
Zhou Zishu kicked Wen Kexing on the knee and rescinded his hand, shaking it in mid-air as if he'd touched something dirty. Clutching the blanket to himself, Wen Kexing peered at him and tutted in amazement, "Bizarre things happen all the time. The one who was taken advantage of doesn't even mind, while you, the one who took advantage, insist so hopelessly on restraint. Usually, in this kind of situation..."
Zhou Zishu did not intend to listen to his continued nonsense. He donned his clothes, deciding that if he couldn't afford to cross him, he could afford to hide, and change rooms to sleep in. At the very least, he could squeeze with Zhang Chengling, and order that little tyke to sleep on the floor.
Yet, the hand that Wen Kexing was clutching the blanket with suddenly shot out at an eerily unnatural angle and found its way up Zhou Zishu's shoulder. Zhou Zishu immediately sunk his shoulder and bent his elbow, intending to knock his hand off. Abruptly, half his body went numb, and before he could get to his feet, he fell and landed right into Wen Kexing's open arms, which had been waiting for him. The shell of a sunflower seed landed on the blanket...so it was this object he had been ambushed by.
With a cheeky smile, Wen Kexing continued next to his ear, "Usually, in this sort of situation, most people act in such a guilty manner because their lust is unsated. See, you've flung yourself into my arms, haven't you?"
Zhou Zishu was speechless. For the life of him, he could not figure out why someone, about to sleep at night, would still equip himself with the shells of sunflower seeds, and use them as hidden weapons to attack others at any time.
Wen Kexing smiled like a crook, and as though he could tell what Zhou Zishu was thinking, he added, "Actually, I have walnuts with me too. Do you want some?"
At the mention of the word "walnut", goosebumps rose all over Zhou Zishu. Looking stronger than he felt, he mustered up a smile and said, "You are cuddling me without letting go, what, do you still want to service me for the night?"
Wen Kexing swept him under the blanket with a glint in his eye, as the two hands pressing down on Zhou Zishu's shoulders went seeking down the hems of his inner robe. He was quick to say with joy, "I couldn't ask for more, I couldn't ask for more."
As Wen Kexing had not been too heavy-handed in execution, Zhou Zishu's acupoints unblocked a mere moment later, right at the moment when Wen Kexing's hand happened to be moving increasingly inappropriately. Ever since he had left the capital and entered the jianghu, Zhou Zishu had, indeed, not been intimate with anyone--for one, he was injured, and for another, with problems coming one after another, he hadn't been in the mood to. Wen Kexing's light teasing felt like he was lighting trails of fire all over his body; right when things seemed to be almost veering out of control, Zhou Zishu grabbed his wrist, and said through gritted teeth, "The Valley Master's deep love, I'll have to...apologise--for--refusing--it."
Smiling, Wen Kexing said, "You don't have to be so polite. It's wrong of you to do so, as rejecting someone's gift is a sign of disrespect."
Zhou Zishu squeezed out a stiff smile. "I am not worthy of this gift."
Just as they were in the middle of a stalemate, they suddenly heard a shout from Zhang Chengling's room next door. Zhou Zishu's brow furrowed. Pushing Wen Kexing away, he put on his outer robe with lightning-quick speed, rose, and fled. Wen Kexing shook his head and sighed. Bringing his five fingers near the tip of his nose, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply in intoxicated pleasure, before slowly following him out.
Zhang Chengling had merely been trapped in the throes of a nightmare. When Zhou Zishu pushed the door open and entered, he discovered him with his eyes tightly shut, mumbling something Zhou Zishu could not discern. He had worked up a sweat from kicking and flailing about. Zhou Zishu pushed at him, but found that he could not wake him. He held his wrist, channelling a thin thread of qi into him, and only then did Zhang Chengling tremble all over with a shout, "Don't kill him!"
Then he bolted upright into a sitting position. Slowly, the fear in his eyes dissipated, and an expression of slight confusion appeared on his face. He looked at Zhou Zishu, and called in a daze, "Shifu…"
Zhou Zishu patted his head, and pressed him back down without a word. Tugging his covers back into place over him, he said, "Go to sleep." Then he sat by the bed, leaning against the bedpost, arms crossed in front of his chest as he closed his eyes to rest, as though he was staying by his side.
For a long while, Zhang Chengling was silent, then tugged lightly at Zhou Zishu's clothes and said in a small voice, "Shifu, just now I dreamt about...a person who was cloaked completely from head to toe holding a knife, he rested it against the throat of my father's second wife, and forcefully questioned my father "where is it". Was that…"
Zhou Zishu opened his eyes. At this moment, the door was pushed open from the outside, and Wen Kexing walked in. Upon hearing this, his expression grew serious, and asked as he thought about it, "What did that person look like? Did he have any features of note?"
Zhang Chengling thought for a long while, and shook his head remorsefully. "I couldn't see it clearly in my dream…"
Zhou Zishu recalled the sentence that the Delighted Mourning Ghost had forcefully questioned the youth with that day, and a thought struck him. He asked, "Did you notice if that person's hand had five fingers, or four?"
Zhang Chengling shook his head again, looking at him with wide eyes. Zhou Zishu sighed, patted his head, and said softly, "Go to sleep…"
One stood and the other sat, but both were silent. When Zhang Chengling's breathing had finally evened out, the boy evidently asleep, Zhou Zishu tugged his blankets into place, stood, and exited with Wen Kexing.
All of a sudden, Wen Kexing sighed. Reaching out to hug him from behind, he buried his face into his shoulder, and a long while later, finally said in a quiet voice, "These days have been like a good dream...but why do we wake so soon?"