IT WAS A NIGHT without moon or stars.
Dark clouds smothered the sky yet refused to shed rain or snow. Even the wind seemed to have died, leaving only an unbearable, scorching heat that made sleep impossible.
And indeed, Duan Qihu was not asleep.
He'd sent his wife and children to the back courtyard early. Now he sat alone in the main hall as his subordinates surrounded the Duan residence. Although Duan Qihu's estate looked as quiet and peaceful as on any other evening, it was already under heavy guard.
Duan Qihu's crooked index finger tapped nonstop against the table.
He was waiting.
Waiting for news of Steward Lin's surprise attack with his fifty fearless guards.
Waiting for that audacious "vengeful ghost" to make its return.
In truth, no bitter grudge existed between Duan Qihu and Xing Mao. But one mountain could not hold two tigers; both knew Qiemo could accommodate one king only. They had gathered their strength, biding their time until they could land the fatal blow.
Now Duan Qihu couldn't wait any longer. The incident at the banquet had sparked a sense of crisis he'd never felt before.
Xing Mao must be eliminated. This couldn't drag on another day.
With restless thoughts came uneasy dreams. It was better to strike early than late—rather than waiting to be killed, he must land the first blow. Tonight, success or failure depended on this move.
He ordered someone to check the hourglass. Almost eleven. The ghost had appeared around this time yesterday. And tonight…
Duan Qihu laughed coldly. The Duan residence was brightly lit, guards stationed at every corner. He refused to believe he'd miss the ghost's entrance.
Yet at that moment, a frigid wind swirled in, carrying flowers and leaves into the hall. The guard at the door sneezed as its bone-piercing chill hit everyone full in the face. The lanterns flickered wildly and went out, plunging the room into darkness.
"Ah—!"
The scream came from the northwest corner of the Duan residence, the back courtyard where the women lived. And the voice was all too familiar—Duan Qihu's daughter, who'd only recently come of age. Duan Qihu leapt up and rushed in the direction of the cry.
As he passed, the lanterns above his head flickered out, one by one, as if planned.
"What was that!"
"There's someone over there!"
The voices of the guards rose and fell, but all they could hear was the whistling wind. The enemy was nowhere in sight. That ill wind blew from every direction, carrying a voice that spoke into Duan Qihu's ear.
Both near and far away.
"Duan Qihu… Pay blood for blood…"
Plenty recalled the rumors of the previous night's hauntings, and the stories they had heard in the city of the thousand weeping ghosts. Panic spread through the residence.
"A ghost!" someone shouted in the darkness. No one knew what he'd seen or encountered. Screams and cries echoed one after another.
But the guards of the Duan residence were well-trained; even in this atmosphere, they didn't run around blindly. Duan Qihu led his men toward the northwest corner and heard his daughter scream again.
His heart thudded in his chest as he rushed into the courtyard.
He saw his daughter lying on the ground, a bright slash of red across her neck. Her eyes were wide in a face twisted with terror, unable to rest in death.
The maids scattered and fled as screams echoed unceasingly in the courtyard. Duan Qihu's wife had also rushed over from the neighboring courtyard; when she saw her daughter, she fainted dead away.
Duan Qihu had never seen anyone killed by a ghost, but he knew the sword wound marring his daughter's neck was not the work of any spirit or demon.
"Come at me, if you have the guts! You think it's impressive killing unarmed women and children?!" He was like a wounded lion, roaring angrily into the void. "Xing Mao! I know it's you! Get the hell out here!"
A gale swept toward him bearing an unmistakable bloodlust. Duan Qihu dodged sideways and raised his arm; a flash of bright light shot straight at his enemy.
Many in Qiemo knew of his Vajra finger technique, said to be exceedingly powerful. Few were aware he also had a preternatural skill with hidden weapons—most who had witnessed it were in the underworld. He'd thought the speed of his strike fast enough to injure his opponent even if they dodged a fatal hit. But to his surprise, the black shadow he'd aimed at vanished midair, leaving the blade to bury itself in a nearby tree.
Could it really be a ghost?! But there was no such thing as ghosts!
Duan Qihu had no time to be startled; an intense agony tore through his back, and he was flung forward.
The guards rushed up, but none lasted beyond the first move. All were sent flying away. Some had their necks twisted and broken, perishing from a single strike. Others fell shrieking to the ground, gravely wounded. From start to finish, their assailant's goal remained Duan Qihu. The instant Duan Qihu stumbled to the ground, his attacker leapt over at a speed too fast to see.
A force capable of overturning mountains and seas pulsed in Duan Qihu's eardrums, as if he was battered by a merciless, roaring gale. By now, Duan Qihu understood this was no vengeful ghost, but a flesh-and-blood human—an expert among experts, with martial arts surpassing his own. Were he still in his prime, he might have escaped unscathed, but now…
His wife and children were here. He couldn't run. Even if he wanted to, it was impossible.
"A quick death is more kindness than you deserve. I want you to watch everyone close to you die, one by one." The words ended on the soft sound of a sigh, accompanied incongruously by a harsh and cutting palm blast.
There was no time to use the Vajra finger technique. Duan Qihu channeled all his internal energy into his palm, pitting his full strength against his opponent. "The one responsible for my deeds is me. Leave my wife and children out of it!" He gritted his teeth, straining to catch a glimpse of his opponent's face.
Pain spiked up his arm and blood spurted. Duan Qihu toppled backward. He panted heavily, still conscious, but the shockwave had damaged his meridians. He was already a toothless tiger. "You! Who the fuck are you! Did Xing Mao send you here!"
"My name is Yan Xuexing." The man before him was clad in black. He watched Duan Qihu, face indifferent.
"You? The disciple from Linchuan Academy?!" Duan Qihu suddenly remembered: "You were behind the poison at the banquet! Why are you doing this!"
He'd never seen this man before or ever offended Southern Chen's Linchuan Academy. They were like a well and a river, their waters never mingling.
Yan Xuexing bared his teeth in a cold smile. "It wasn't me who tried to poison you; blame yourself for having too many enemies. Countless people want you dead! As for Peng Xiang, I killed him because he deserved to die, just like you!"
"There's no grudge between me and Linchuan Academy, past or present!" Duan Qihu cried.
"This has nothing to do with Linchuan Academy. You need only remember me, Yan Xuexing."
What few experts remained among Duan residence guards were no match for Yan Xuexing and couldn't stop him. Linchuan Academy's high-ranking disciples deserved their reputation. This man's martial arts were beyond compare; no mere guard could oppose him. He caught the women and children in the courtyard one by one, throwing them to the ground and sealing their acupoints. Tears streamed down their faces, yet they couldn't make a sound.
Duan Qihu bitterly regretted sending the steward and his fifty elite guards away. With them, he'd at least have stood a fighting chance.
"Whom do you want to die first?" Yan Xuexing took slow steps toward the Duan family. "To men like you, women are no different from clothes. When one is gone, you can simply pick another. Let's kill your favorite concubine first."
Duan Qihu's chest throbbed with muted pain as he swallowed down blood. He looked at his daughter's corpse lying on the ground and roared, "Kill me if you must, but I deserve to know the reason! Why are you doing this?! You're helping Xing Mao act against me. Do you think he's any better? He'll abandon you as soon as he gets what he wants!"
Yan Xuexing shook his head. "I don't know any Xing Mao. No one can order me around."
"Yan-gongzi, since you've made up your mind, why bother talking to him? Just start killing them. He'll figure it out eventually." With an airy laugh, a woman in yellow appeared on the roof. Duan Qihu's eyes widened when he saw what she clutched in her hand.
It was a bead, carved from jade and hollowed out to enclose two more layers, so that the entire exquisite object formed three spheres, one nested inside the other. Rumor had it that this was a secret treasure from the imperial palace of the Western Jin dynasty. It'd drifted from person to person for centuries before it'd landed in Duan Qihu's hands—an item almost as precious as the Jade of Heaven Lake. Duan Qihu treasured it greatly and kept it hidden in a secret storehouse, only occasionally taking it out to toy with. Even his wife didn't know the location of his private cache, yet this stranger had discovered it.
The woman in yellow curled her fingers into a fist, and the priceless jade bead was crushed to fine powder. Dust trickled between her fingers and drifted away with the wind.
She smiled at the way Duan Qihu's eyes popped out. "Heartbroken?" she asked. "But these were all things you gained through robbery; they never belonged to you in the first place. It's been twenty years. Do you still remember the blood debt you owe?" The woman opened her mouth, and her voice changed—clearly, this was the ghost from the previous night
Duan Qihu understood at once: this woman could mimic all kinds of voices.
Yan Xuexing stopped in front of Duan Qihu's beloved concubine. The woman's face was a mask of fear, her complexion snow-white, yet she couldn't move an inch. She was a pitiable sight, but he showed no mercy—he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her neck, gripping it tightly.
Suddenly Yan Xuexing's expression shifted. He threw aside the woman and leapt backward. The yellow-clad woman sitting on the eaves, too, vanished, hiding herself in the shadows. Everyone else saw only a pale flash as a person appeared where Yan Xuexing had just stood.
Feng Xiao smiled. "It's my husband's fault for dallying—I've arrived too late and missed the beginning of the show."
He'd never been one to keep a low profile. Though he was still in women's clothes, his eyes were bright, and his wide sleeves flapped in the wind. His aura was oppressive, neither feminine nor masculine. Even Yan Xuexing took a few more steps back.
"Who are you?!"
"My friend, all debts have their debtors," Feng Xiao said pleasantly. "If you have a grudge against Duan Qihu, then kill him. Why are you dragging your feet? Ah, but since you waited to make your move, if you wish to kill him now, you'll have to ask me first."
Yan Xuexing didn't bother arguing; he attacked Feng Xiao without another word.
Both moved with incredible speed; in a blink, they'd exchanged ten or more blows. The bystanders glimpsed clothes whirling, the flurry of palms transforming, but it was impossible to see any of their moves clearly.
Cui Buqu had arrived as well.
He was no martial artist, so he couldn't drop from the sky as Feng Xiao had. He had to walk in on two legs like any ordinary person.
Yan Xuexing and the woman in yellow had kindly left the Duan residence guards strewn across the ground. There was no one to bar his entry, so he strode through the main gate with no trouble at all.
Catching sight of the woman in yellow, he said, "Maiden Bing Xian. It's been a while."
"Hello, Daoist Master Cui. Though it hasn't been that long." Bing Xian's lips curved in a smile. Neither showed any trace of embarrassment or awkwardness. They acted like old friends reuniting, familiar and natural.
"Since when has the Hehuan Sect started collaborating with Linchuan Academy? I had no idea."
"You've misunderstood, Daoist Master Cui," said Bing Xian. "Yan-gongzi has defected from his sect. This trip was purely for his personal revenge, but he intends to join Hehuan Sect. Naturally I must give our sect's new elite member a warm welcome and help him out a little."
"Personal revenge?"
Bing Xian smiled. "Would you like to hear a story?"
"Keep it short."
"Twenty years ago, a family of merchants passed through Qiemo on their way to Kucha. Along the way, they encountered bandits who took not only their goods but their lives. The bandits killed everyone in the convoy, not sparing the women and children of the family. Only a pair of siblings escaped the slaughter. But they weren't martial artists, and they couldn't get far. The young sister took her little brother and hid in a nearby hunter's cottage."
"You speak as if you witnessed it. Are you perhaps that sister?"
"No—but Yan-gongzi is the brother. As for the sister, she's long gone, raped to death by the bandits. When the hunter discovered the fleeing siblings, not only did he fail to show them kindness and hide them, he prevented them from escaping. The sister stirred his lust, so he held her down and raped her. When the group of bandits caught up, they joined in, taking the sister as spoils of war. An itinerant merchant also passed by. The group of bandits, high on their victory, asked the merchant to join them in violating the girl. At first the merchant didn't want to, but he was afraid the bandits might kill him if he refused. In the end, he couldn't resist his evil impulses, and he, too, became one of the sister's rapists. With the sister in their grasp, the group paid no heed to the younger brother, a child who couldn't run far by himself. But in a stroke of luck, the brother managed to escape. He hid in the dark and witnessed his sister's death from beginning to end."
Cui Buqu understood. "Duan Qihu was one of the bandits?"
Bing Xian smiled. "Not only was he one of the bandits, he was their leader and gave the order to rape the girl. So, what do you think? Does he deserve to die? Should he be killed now or later? Shouldn't we deny him a quick death?"
Duan Qihu heard these words too.
He'd long since remembered those events of twenty years ago, or he wouldn't have been so fearful when it was brought up. But he'd thought no one knew this story, and the other participants would never reveal their own crimes. Never had he expected the young brother would escape the jaws of death and return, much less that he'd become a disciple of Linchuan Academy and gain the skills he needed to seek revenge.
Cui Buqu nodded. "If it happened as you say, he deserves to die."
"I wasn't the only one who took part that day," Duan Qihu roared, "so why is it only me—"
His expression transformed into one of panic.
Li Fei, Cheng Cheng, Peng Xiang, and him. The itinerant merchant, the hunter, and the bandits.
They'd originally been strangers whose paths had only crossed thanks to that incident. Afterward, they'd parted and gone their separate ways. None had thought the encounter important. None had taken it to heart.
One by one, they'd all died.
Everyone who'd participated in that monstrous crime had perished one by one. Duan Qihu hadn't thought in this direction. But as he connected the dots point by point, he realized: not a single one of them had escaped.