Standing in the shadows where the moonlight could not reach, the Scorpion was shrouded in a large hooded cape; when the slight breeze made it billow, he looked like a wraith that had quietly coalesced into form in the corner.
He had a beautiful youth on a leash, one of the two who had retreated from his bed earlier. The youth was clothed in form-fitting night gear and had a chain around his neck. The other end of it was held in the Scorpion's hand. He was like a fine-looking dog, rosy of lip and pearly white of teeth.
The Scorpion stretched out his fingers, and gently combed through the youth's hair, sighing, "If we do not come and drop Valley Master Wen a reminder, I am afraid that capable, impressive person will spend the rest of his life in tenderness so sweet that even immortality tempts him not. That is no good--if all heroes are this unambitious, who will unveil that hero's true face?"
The beautiful youth squinted as though he was enjoying it greatly and nuzzled his fingers unconsciously, wanting more caresses. A few dark figures rushed into the small inn. The guests that had been unfortunately embroiled in this situation startled from their dreams, shrieks rising from all around. Suddenly, the door to a room burst open, and a sloppily-dressed, half-grown lad scrambled out from within. A Poisonous Scorpion was in close pursuit behind him.
The Scorpion watched on without interfering. Though the youth looked like a laughable mess, his steps were not the least bit in disarray, and was in fact superb qinggong. He seemed to still be groggy from sleep and had no notion of fighting back, but only scampered around, hiding, crying, "Heck, why is it this bunch of people in black again? You're there when I fall asleep, and still there when I wake! I've not done anything worthy of such a grudge like digging up your ancestors!"
His voice broke on the last sound into a shriek. The Poisonous Scorpion after him had released an oxhair-thin needle. Zhang Chengling pounced face first onto the ground like a dog chowing down on mud, wriggled a few times with his bottom up like an enormous meaty maggot, and then rolled nimbly to the side, leaping to his feet. Scaling the wooden pillar to one side, he twisted, turning back, an object pinched in his hand. Flinging it vehemently at the Poisonous Scorpion behind him, he shouted, "Watch out for my needle!"
That Poisonous Scorpion arched backwards on reflex. From the moment he was born, Zhang Chengling had always been the one scammed, and now he had finally succeeded in scamming someone else under the influence of cheap tricks employed by a series of unscrupulous, shameless people such as Gu Xiang, his shifu, and more--Zhang Chengling was practically overjoyed. He clung to the wooden pillar and scooted upwards like a black bear, even explaining smugly, "Haha, you're too dumb. My shifu taught me to fool others with this."
A miffed voice rang out, "Nonsense, when have I taught you such low and despicable tricks?"
That poor Scorpion--when he had just realised what was going on and was about to give chase, a gust of wind struck him from behind. Before he could turn his head, it rolled off his neck onto the ground. Zhang Chengling's laughter caught in his throat, and he stared dumbly at Wen Kexing, who had materialised out of nowhere.
In that instant, with his vision, all he had been able to catch was a shadow that had sliced through the air. Then that Poisonous Scorpion's head had separated from his body. Wen Kexing stood apathetically to the side, his head lowered. His robes were speckless; only four fingers of his left hand were dripping with blood.
He had no sabre or sword, or any sharp weapon in hand. Yet, he had used some mysterious method to 'slice' the Poisonous Scorpion's head off his neck bare-handed. Could he have possessed the ability to condense the air at his fingertips into the aura of a blade? Wen Kexing's entire demeanour was one of a malicious ghost that clawed its way up from Hell--his expression was not one particularly grave or severe, but it made others could not help but desire to retreat leagues away from him.
Hugging the pillar, Zhang Chengling opened his mouth. No words came out.
By this point, Gu Xiang, Cao Weining and Gao Xiaolian had come out and joined the fight. Leisurely, Zhou Zishu appeared at the door, uncorked the small medicinal bottle the Great Shaman had given him, and, without taking it with any water, dry-swallowed a pill. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, his belt still loosely tied, he did not arm himself with the Baiyi sword. His gaze skipped past Wen Kexing and the others to rest directly on where the Scorpion was standing in the shadows.
The window to the Great Shaman's room had been pushed open sometime ago. The Great Shaman did not jump in the fray, but simply watched by the window. When his gaze landed on Wen Kexing, his brow creased.
Lord Seventh, with a robe spread over his shoulders, asked from behind him, "What do you think of his martial ability?"
The Great Shaman was silent for a moment, and then said, "If it is a matter of true martial ability, at the full peak of his abilities, Manor Lord Zhou may try to have a fair fight with him. However, if they truly exchange blows, he will be unable to score victory over this person."
Pausing slightly, taken aback, Lord Seventh asked, "What about you?"
The Great Shaman shook his head. "Unless I had no other choice, I will never face this person in combat."
Gaze sombre, he looked at Wen Kexing, who was standing in the middle of the courtyard--Wen Kexing seemed to have smiled slightly, raised his hand, and then lapped at his four fingers, still dripping with human blood, once. It left a crimson bloodstain on his lips.
Be it the Great Shaman himself or Zhou Zishu, while they might have been experts of whose calibre were rare in the jianghu, their martial skills were imparted by a master, and then--according to how someone else had taught them--slowly figured out on their own, whetted and polished through toil.
Although one's cultivation depended on their character and choices, they were ultimately guided on the basics by a master. For all, their motivation to master martial arts was to become capable, to fulfill their own aspirations; even though others couldn't tell, there was an undeniable, unshakable craftsmanship to their martial arts, but this person was different.
This person's martial abilities were polished by decades of life-or-death instances in the tempests of bloody massacres--he had no mantras, no fixed set of moves, but only a choice to either live, or die, time after time.
This was very likely the most frightening sort of martial arts in the world.
The Scorpion opened his mouth slightly. There was an unexpected tremor to his voice; in what could have been fear or excitement, his fingers tightened, hurting the beautiful youth in his grip. The youth's features scrunched a little in an expression of pain, but he did not dare to struggle. He heard the Scorpion murmur, "If they now claim that he is not the Master of the Ghost Valley, I won't believe it with my life."
Abruptly, he let go of the youth he was leading in hand, patted the back of his head, and said, "Go meet that kid with unbelievable luck. Go play with him for a bit, us adults will have a chat."
The youth flitted out on command. Surprisingly, his martial abilities were rather strong.
At the same time, the Scorpion put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Upon the command, all surviving Poisonous Scorpions leapt out of the battle area, and formed tidy ranks by his side.
The Scorpion walked out of the dark to stand before Wen Kexing, and saluted him with palm over fist. "Gentlemen, we meet again."
Wen Kexing loosened his grip, and the corpse of a Poisonous Scorpion hit the ground. He cast an eye over the Scorpion, killing intent teeming as he asked in extreme annoyance, "Have you come seeking death?"
The beautiful youth that the Scorpion brought along had already swept towards Zhang Chengling. Apathetic, the Scorpion did not spare him another glance, but it was in fact Zhou Zishu, who had not budged an inch off to one side, who raised his head to look at the two youths engaged in duel. He seemed to shift a little, then hesitated, and ultimately did not interfere--that beautiful youth's attacks were vicious, and were forcing Zhang Chengling to scramble in panic and evade at once.
However, Zhou Zishu could tell that if the martial abilities of these two were to be called bad, they were not too atrocious. He already knew that Zhang Chengling was the sort of person who would make progress upon being pushed to the brink of despair; anyway, with so many people around, he was not afraid that there would be any mishaps with the little tyke, and let them be.
The Scorpion smiled and said, "I dare not, I dare not. This humble one still treasures his life greatly. Since our target has been given the Valley Master's protection, even if we possess the courage of beasts, we dare not tempt fate."
Wen Kexing looked at him, annoyed, as though he was about to rip the Scorpion's head off if he continued to speak nonsense.
The Scorpion continued, "I have come forth for reason no more than I was tasked by someone to pass a message to this Young Master Zhang."
Wen Kexing raised his head to glance at those two youths, who were already causing a ruckus. Too lazy to bother with him, he walked back with a very foul expression. When he came to Zhou Zishu's side, he dropped his gaze and rescinded his nasty comportment, before finally asking quietly, "Have you taken the medication?"
Zhou Zishu made an offhanded noise of acknowledgement, and asked the Scorpion, "What message?"
The Scorpion stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and raised his head to look at Zhang Chengling, who was still hiding and ducking earlier, but was now able to return a few blows despite his flustered manner, and could not help a noise of curiosity. This youth had produced a sword that seemed like scrap metal at some earlier point in time; one could tell upon first glance that it had been flippantly obtained for practice. His moves, which looked to have no order to them, seemed to conceal two exceptional sword forms. One was serene and proper, full of the noble aura of a nation's finest, peerless talent, and the other nimble and charmingly unbridled--if it were wielded to its fullest extent, it would have been as pleasant to the eye as drifting clouds and running brooks.
The two sword forms were awkwardly stitched together in a clumsy and recklessly blunt manner by the youth; it was as odd as it looked, but there was an uncanny harmony to it.
The Scorpion could tell, too, that within ten moves, the seemingly-ferocious attacks of the child he reared would be neutralised, and sighed, "A reputed master will produce a fine disciple, after all."
Abruptly, he raised his voice, and said loudly, "Young Master Zhang, do you want to know who the true culprit behind the deaths of your family is?"
Hearing this, Zhang Chengling was momentarily shaken. Once distracted, the chain around his opponent's neck hurtled at him, and tangled with the sword in his hand. The sword was not any impressive weapon in the first place; it instantly snapped into two. Immediately taking advantage of his upper hand, the beautiful youth in pursuit lifted the dark sabre-staff in his hand, and swung it at Zhang Chengling's waist.
Under duress, Zhang Chengling tumbled to the side. Out of solutions, he raised his leg and kicked at the youth's crotch. The youth was surprised and enraged, but could only turn sideways to dodge it.
All those present could not help the odd expressions on their faces.
Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing exchanged a glance, and said at the same time, with the same this-has-nothing-to-do-with me attitude, "What sort of disciple have you produced?"
Wen Kexing glared, and said, "He is clearly your disciple."
Zhou Zishu said as though he was in the right, "Bullshit, how can I possibly produce such a disciple who doesn't know anything apart from cheap, despicable tricks? He is clearly of your sort."
Zhang Chengling leapt up, treading the Nine Palaces Formation at full steam, letting that beautiful youth chase him along the walls. He heard the Scorpion continue with a smile, after his bout of surprise, "What a child, refusing to be confined to a particular form--I'll be honest, the one who killed your father, the one who caused the death of the Taishan Sect Leader, the one who assassinated the clan leader of the Shen clan, the one who shifted the blame and bounty to Hero Gao, are all one person.
Zhang Chengling asked loudly, "Who is it?"
The Scorpion asked in reply, "Who do you think it is? At present, who can possess the Lapis Armour in unscrupulous secrecy, while righteously summoning all the heroes under the sky to surround the Ghost Valley, and eliminate all witnesses before bringing the Ghost Valley's 'key' and the Lapis Armour together?"
Zhou Zishu let out an "ah", looked at Wen Kexing, and said meaningfully, "The Ghost Valley's key--no wonder...what Long Que had said was new to all of us, but only the Valley Master was calm and not the slightest bit astonished."
Wen Kexing said, "You're not surprised."
Zhou Zishu smiled and said, "I have nothing to be surprised about--the Ghost Valley has been dormant for many years. Why would a traitor surface out of the blue, and set his sights on the Lapis Armour? He's taking such a big risk; if he is trying to trap a prized predator without bait, that is far too abnormal."
Wen Kexing hesitated for a long moment, then explained in low tones, "Indeed, the ten abominable Ghosts of the Valley are locked in an unending struggle, with Sun Ding and Xue Fang in the lead. Before this, the Delighted Mourning Ghost used some unknown method to sway the allegiances of most Ghosts towards himself, employing the power of the masses to suppress the weak. In the Valley, the party that does not have the might that others possess must die, so Xue Fang took the risky path...or, he had been planning such a day since a long time ago, to steal the 'key'."
Zhou Zishu nodded, and said, dragging out the words, "Oh, 'some unknown method--'"
Of the five major clans those years ago, there was only one person left. Even if Zhang Chengling was dumber than he was now, he could understand who the person the Scorpion's words were hinting at. In that instant, his heart stopped beating, and he roared, "You're speaking nonsense! That's impossible!"
Zhou Zishu raised his head and said calmly, "Little tyke, a strong will is indispensable if one wants to become someone great. You do not have to pull the wool over your own eyes about a matter that you have already seen the truth of--of course, if you think he's spouting bullshit, you can also let it pass out of your other ear."
As he spoke, his figure flashed briefly, although he did not seem to have moved, and appeared by Cao Weining's side. Smoothly plucking Cao Weining's sword from him, he stretched out his arm and threw it upwards, and said, "Catch. Don't you want to leave with Gu Xiang and the rest? If you can kill that pale-faced female impersonator, I'll let you leave."
Flitting over, Zhang Chengling caught Cao Weining's sword. With a clang, the long sword was drawn out of the sheath, and with a loud shout, he hesitated no longer, swinging it at the beautiful youth.
He was practically treating Cao Weining's sword like the Golden-Thread Ringed Sabre; in that instant, his strokes were astonishingly of boundless, volatile power, an intense, surging storm that bore down hard--no one had taught him this.
Shocked, that beautiful youth panicked, his attacks thrown into disarray, and stepped backwards reflexively--he, in fact, had a limp to one foot that was not usually evident, but became obvious when he beat a hasty retreat at this time. A cryptic smile suddenly surfaced on the Scorpion's face. Naturally, Zhang Chengling had noticed his limp too; gaze sharpening abruptly, a vicious hatred twisting his features, he brought the sword straight down.
He sliced that youth from face to chest.
The splattered blood drenched his face.
Zhang Chengling turned his head, looked right at the Scorpion, and said, "You are saying that it's Uncle Zhao."
The killers from the Poisonous Scorpions had only started to appear when Zhao Jing had brought him to Dongting--why had Zhao Jing let Zhou Zishu, of unknown background, take him away so easily back then?
Because the best moment to deliver the killing blow was when Zhang Chengling was not by his side.
All the witnesses of yesteryear had died; today, only Zhao Jing, who had gotten injured for the sake of the orthodox, was left. At present, he was highly respected and regarded, reputed like no other--
This was none other than the truth.