FENG XIAO PAID no mind to the outside world. He was locked in a vicious battle, one no less dangerous than the fight in the tavern.
Cui Youwang's two sarira seemed to harbor all the pridefulness of their former master, refusing to be absorbed or assimilated. After lying dormant for several weeks and feigning submission, they'd finally taken the opportunity to launch a counterattack while Feng Xiao was heavily injured.
It was exactly what one would expect from a member of the demonic sects.
Fortunately, Feng Xiao had been wise enough to guess Xiao Lü wouldn't give such precious sarira away without a catch. He'd kept a portion of his guard up all this time; otherwise, he'd have already been embroiled with the invader and ultimately destroyed himself.
For the mighty deputy chief of the Jiejian Bureau, leader of the Fajing Sect, to die from a qi deviation…it was only slightly better than choking to death on his dinner. He'd become a famous laughingstock in jianghu history. What's more, Feng Xiao was elegant, peerless, radiant, dazzling, show-stealing, unique—if he died like this, wouldn't the world suffer a terrible loss, deprived of such a priceless treasure?
"Hmph!" An expression of pure contempt, neither pleased nor angry. It resembled the mighty drums of the thunder beast's hide made by the Yellow Emperor himself, resounding for thousands of miles.
When this sound reached Feng Xiao's ears, he felt his foggy mind quake, his already-chaotic qi disrupted further. Feng Xiao looked at the wavering shadow in front of him.
It wasn't the former grandmaster Cui Youwang in truth. It was only his echo, which Feng Xiao's mind had conjured up thanks to the sarira. Yet in another sense, it was the last trace of Cui Youwang left in the realm of the living. Like a fish that had been killed, then served at the table, Feng Xiao thought maliciously. Steamed, braised in vinegar, or fried—one couldn't say it was gone, but it'd turned from a living creature into someone else's meal.
The demonic sects believed in the survival of the fittest; they seldom honored their predecessors. The only thing they worshipped was strength. But Feng Xiao was not a native disciple of the demonic sects. Even his position as leader of the Fajing Sect was one he'd reluctantly accepted and haphazardly managed. He was much more enthusiastic about his role in the Jiejian Bureau.
Since childhood, he had been gifted and favored; everything he desired was within reach. He'd breezed through martial training others bled for—but because of this, he was comparatively less fixated on it. Had he put his full focus into this path, with his talent, he'd have had far more achievements than he already did. As a consequence, this leader of the Fajing Sect respected the demonic sects' preceding grandmasters even less than usual. Standing on the brink of life and death, he still spared a moment to ridicule them.
Met with this frivolous attitude, Cui Youwang didn't say a word—he sneered and struck.
He surged forward with overwhelming force, catching Feng Xiao off-guard. Killing intent choked the air, winding around Feng Xiao strand by strand like the silk of a cocoon, tight and impenetrable. Cui Youwang captured every stream of qi Feng Xiao unleashed before it could have any effect; he had a counter to every attack. He started slow, then turned ferocious.
Feng Xiao's mind, his last line of defense, was swept away by the intensity of the attack. His consciousness flickered, his body no longer under his control.
"You dare to call yourself a successor to the demonic sects with only this level of ability?" A rough voice echoed in Feng Xiao's ear, startling him. He instinctively moved to counterattack but found himself unable to harness his qi, as if an unseen force was pinning him down. Only now did he realize he'd underestimated his predecessor. Anyone capable of leaving such a glorious mark on the demonic sects' legacy couldn't be any less talented than himself.
The consequence of his carelessness might very well be his life. Feng Xiao finally didn't dare fool around anymore.
But he was terribly weary. After the battle at Fengyun Tavern in which he'd killed nearly a dozen experts, both renowned and newcomers alike, he'd fought Xiao Lü, who was practically his equal in strength. He'd exhausted all his energy and struggled just to hobble back. He was beyond fatigued. Yet now he was denied rest even when healing, forced to fight another match?
Feng Xiao sorted and gathered the many streams of qi, then mobilized them to fight back against the phantom of Cui Youwang trying to engulf him. But his foe had lain in ambush for many days and was well-prepared. As they clashed, Feng Xiao's qi was instantly weakened by a third while his foe remained as solid and unmoved as Mount Tai. He cast Feng Xiao a mocking glance.
"Trash!" he heard Cui Youwang say. "In life, I fought the six most powerful grandmasters in the world. I defeated them with ease and walked away unscathed. The demonic sects grow weaker with every generation. If an incompetent like you had shown up when I was still around, forget entering the Riyue Sect. I'd have struck you dead at the mountain gates!"
Feng Xiao gasped for breath as his opponent's overwhelming qi poured down on his head, creating a pressure so immense his own qi nearly buckled. He felt he was about to collapse into dust and fragments. Within the illusory realm of his consciousness, he staggered back several steps. His limbs felt leaden, as if they were tied to heavy boulders. He was unable to raise so much as a finger.
Opposite him, Cui Youwang laughed again, cold and mocking. "I advise you to give up now."
"Did the six grandmasters attack you all at once, or separately?" Feng Xiao asked.
It was a strange experience. The figure that stood before Feng Xiao appeared to be Cui Youwang, but in fact, it was the two sarira he'd left behind—condensed remnants of his life's martial arts and the lingering fragments of his consciousness. Thanks to this, two people who should never have met in life shared an encounter that transcended time and space.
Cui Youwang snorted coldly. "Of course it was all at once!"
"Then you're lying. Even if you were the strongest martial artist back then, it's impossible for you to handle six martial arts grandmasters at the same time!"
"Fool!" Cui Youwang shouted. "Do you think the strongest of my era were comparable to the half-hearted masters you're producing now?! If my venerable self wishes to kill you, I can do it as easily as crushing an ant!"
"Then go ahead!" Feng Xiao appeared unconcerned. "Don't hold back. Who knows, maybe you'll seize my body like one of those deities and reincarnate as a human?"
"I left behind two sarira. How do you know I can't?" Cui Youwang asked darkly.
Feng Xiao laughed. "Because that's why you're hesitating! Destroy me, and you'll destroy yourself too—and you can't bear to do that. After all these years, though you're just a sarira, you still possess some of the consciousness Cui Youwang left behind. You've finally found someone to spar and talk with. How can you bear to destroy me?!"
The figure trembled slightly, as if Feng Xiao had struck a nerve, and now it was reconsidering.
Feng Xiao would never let go of a chance to destroy an enemy. Even if the man in front of him was a legendary master from his own sect, he didn't hesitate to launch a counterattack.
"Sir!" Pei Jingzhe looked on in horror as Feng Xiao's body shuddered, blood trickling from his mouth and nose.
Feng Xiao's eyes were squeezed shut. He couldn't hear Pei Jingzhe's shouts. His complexion, which had been a pallid green, now began to turn faintly yellow, embodying that classic simile used to describe the dead: a face like gold leaf. Gold was a beautiful color, but if a martial arts practitioner showed such a complexion, death was nigh.
After swallowing the three ice-fungus pills, Feng Xiao's color had improved slightly. But just when everyone thought his condition was improving, it took a sudden turn for the worse.
Ming Yue had said Feng Xiao was fighting desperately against his inner demons. There were only two possible outcomes of such a battle: If he succeeded, he'd live. If he failed, he'd die.
Cui Buqu stood quietly for a moment before turning to leave, prepared to deal with his own pressing business. Had he not given Feng Xiao his own emergency pills—and had Qiao Xian's expression not been so grave—Pei Jingzhe might have thought Cui Buqu didn't care a whit if Feng Xiao died. That maybe he was even secretly glad.
Today, the proud and infallible Deputy Chief Feng might truly falter.
Pei Jingzhe sighed to himself. In his eyes, Feng Xiao was practically omnipotent. He refused to entertain such a possibility.
He didn't dare touch Feng Xiao. His skin burned like fire, and the slightest contact could lead to unexpected consequences. "If your lordship wakes up, we can discuss docking my pay again," Pei Jingzhe said through gritted teeth, his heart aching. He thought for a while and added silently, Doesn't your lordship love making things difficult for Cui-xiansheng? If something happens to you, the court will send someone else to manage the Jiejian Bureau, and Cui-xiansheng will quickly forget his old rival.
He didn't know if any of his words would touch Feng Xiao's heart.
The two streams of qi within Feng Xiao were entwined in a life-or-death showdown, locked in a stalemate. Cui Youwang's qi swept toward Feng Xiao like a cresting wave, yet Feng Xiao blocked it before it could break. Feng Xiao wasn't merely defending; he sought any opportunity to counterattack, cunningly waiting to strike.
Cui Youwang was furious. "You rat—you don't deserve to call yourself a member of the demonic sects!"
"Do you really fancy yourself Cui Youwang?" Feng Xiao asked. "You're just two sarira he left behind after the death of his body and soul when he failed in his climb to the martial summit. Even if the real Cui Youwang stood before me, I'd still tell him—"
In the depths of Feng Xiao's mind, it was perfectly clear to him that this so-called Cui Youwang was just a phantom created by the qi deviation. Maybe the phantom really had inherited Cui Youwang's qi, but ultimately, it was an outside invader incompatible with Feng Xiao's martial arts. If he couldn't force this qi into submission and make it his own, what awaited him was a fate identical to Cui Youwang's.
This was likely the most dangerous challenge he'd faced in his martial training, but Feng Xiao had always grown stronger with each challenge he met. He had never known compromise or surrender. Maybe there was someone out there who could force him to concede, but it certainly wouldn't be here or now.
"—that there's always a higher sky—and always a better man!"
With these bold words, Feng Xiao surged forward and hemmed Cui Youwang in from the front and rear. After biding his time and regulating his breathing, he was officially ready to declare war on the enemy.
Cui Youwang roared with rage. He too fought without hesitation.
A violent tremor went through Feng Xiao as a dazzling light erupted before him. He felt as if his whole body was burning, his blood boiling, yearning to burst the confines of his skin and explode outward. His veins twisted and turned, washing him in waves of agony like the tossing sea.
After an indeterminate amount of time, the pain and turmoil finally subsided. Feng Xiao slowly opened his eyes.
Cui Youwang had vanished; the phantom was nowhere to be found. Feng Xiao's body felt warm and languid both inside and out. It was the feeling of defeating his enemy, so wonderful his muscles, bones, blood, and flesh groaned in comfort. Before him was a stretch of luxuriant green, like a field of newly planted seedlings, a swaying bamboo grove, or a pond layered in lotus leaves, gently soothing away his fatigue after the fierce battle.
A figure stood in the middle of the dense green, smiling at him.
Feng Xiao twitched his fingers, and the man came to him. His sickly face was familiar. He met Feng Xiao's eyes but said nothing, letting Feng Xiao's fingers brush over his face and open his collar, revealing skin that'd spent years away from the sun.
Cui Buqu touched Feng Xiao's wrist and sighed softly. "Xiao Lü is dead."
Feng Xiao was momentarily stunned. "How did he die?"
"He was seriously injured after your battle," Cui Buqu said. "Ming Yue led his people in pursuit and killed him."
"So the bandit leader has met his end, and the Thirteen Floors are a headless dragon," Feng Xiao said in relief. "They won't make trouble for us again."
Cui Buqu smiled faintly. "And it's all thanks to you. Of course I'll request the emperor recognize your accomplishments."
Feng Xiao also smiled. "You don't need to make any request. I just want you to do one thing."
He lifted Cui Buqu's chin, and a soft flush rose on that pale cheek. Cui Buqu seemed to want to step back, but unusually, he stayed put with a look of forbearance that was very fetching. Feng Xiao dipped his head to kiss him, then paused.
Cui Buqu looked up at him, bewildered.
Feng Xiao sneered. "So you can even peek at my inner demons and confuse me. Not bad!"
His fingers curled, mercilessly closing around Cui Buqu's throat. He squeezed, and in an instant, Cui Buqu crumbled to dust.
"How…did you realize…" His enemy's voice drifted into his ears, faint and tinged with grudging defeat.
Feng Xiao laughed. "All you can conjure is the Cui Buqu in my fantasies! The real Cui Buqu would never say it was all thanks to me."
Throughout this duel of both wits and strength, he'd begun to understand the rules of this dreamscape and fashioned an additional fantasy in a corner of his mind. Sure enough, the snake had emerged from its lair and fallen into his trap.
It felt as if a dust-covered table had been wiped clean—his soul was again pure and bright. His roiling qi slowly calmed, then quietly began to gather once more.
Great sounds come in whispers; great forms possess no shape.6
Feng Xiao discovered that, by chance, his martial arts seemed to have advanced yet again.
"Cui Youwang, you've lost!"
***
Every seat in the guest hall of the governor's residence was filled, yet the silence was deafening. Almost all the prominent households in the county had received an invitation they couldn't refuse.
When Rong Qing's missive had arrived at the Li family residence, the patriarch had begged illness and sent an unfavored son out to deal with it. He hadn't expected the guards who came knocking to drag him, ill or not, from his bed and bring him here.
The Li family was only the start. The Ding, Zhao, Wang, and others had undergone the same treatment.
Everyone sat in silence, resolute in their strategy of passive resistance. No matter what Rong Qing said, they refused to speak. After all, the main culprits behind the embezzlement were Yang Yun, Li Yan, and Wu Yi, and they'd already been arrested. The families here had only assisted them under duress, and Cui Buqu had said those who had merely followed orders would be forgiven. Rong Qing wouldn't dare put any of the prominent families in the county to death for this.
Rong Qing had taken the time to have a word with them before Cui Buqu arrived. After all, soft words and courtesy should come first, reproof and punishment later. He tried appealing to reason and sentiment. He explained that the imperial granaries had no more grain to send. That if the victims grew desperate and violent, the first people they'd turn on would be the families present. That this was a matter that concerned everyone's safety. He pleaded for them to keep the bigger picture in mind.
He spoke so earnestly for so long that he felt as though his throat was smoking when he finished. But those stubborn old tortoises refused to budge. They hid like quails in the grass, not a one of them willing to step forward. Rong Qing was livid with fury.
At last even he ran out of patience. He slammed a hand on the table and instructed Pei Jingzhe to read from the account book Li Yan had provided. Which family had benefited most from the tax-exemption policy? Everything was recorded in black and white; no one could avoid their responsibilities. If they continued to stall, fine—Rong Qing had all day.
The patriarch of the Li family was first to speak. "Censor Rong is an intelligent man. Governor Yang made many grand promises when the tax-exemption policy was introduced, but in practice, we received only a fraction more grain compared to previous years. After the flood this year, the grain was entirely depleted. We're all going hungry. Where are we supposed to find the extra grain to feed the refugees? If your lordship doesn't believe us, take someone and conduct a search."
Obviously he wasn't afraid of what Rong Qing might find. If Rong Qing's search turned up empty, these same people would use their connections in court to file a complaint against him for abusing his position.
Rong Qing had seen the tragic state of the refugees after the flood, and he now hated these people even more. He yearned to send someone to turn all their manors upside down.
It was then that Cui Buqu arrived.
He came without fanfare, and without anyone to accompany him. He held a small handwarmer, and his cloak was wrapped tight around him as he walked soundlessly through the courtyard to reach the gates. He coughed a few times, which brought some color to his cheeks, pallid from the cold.
With the exception of Rong Qing and Pei Jingzhe, everyone's faces went rigid, as if they'd spotted a great enemy. Some of the young men glanced at him furtively.
The Zuoyue Bureau chief didn't return their glances. He looked straight ahead as he walked to the seat of honor and settled himself, his brow etched with weariness and his thin lips pale. From the side they appeared to curl slightly upward in something like a smile, yet not. As if, at any moment, he might make someone suffer until they wished for death.
The patriarch of the Li family felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine. He shut his mouth with a snap and resumed his quail act.
But Cui Buqu didn't ask him any questions. Instead, he said, "Before we begin, please invite Governor Yang over. I'd like to have a talk with him."