Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
The small lakeside house against the wall of bamboo was tranquil, yet dim. What the middle-aged Tea Specialist sat on was a chair engraved from Kunhu Lake Stone, and in front of him stood a tea table, also carved from Kunhu Lake Stone. On the tea table there was a long teapoy made of ebony, where lay a mild and smooth teapot and teacups. Beside the tea table, a small portable charcoal furnace was found with a kettle on it, from whose mouth mist was spreading out, which had not yet been boiling.
On such an intolerably hot summer night, the middle-aged Tea Specialist, in a single-layer garment, seemed not to be affected by the heat from that small charcoal furnace. Instead, he was just as calm as a hospitable host who was waiting for visitors on a snowy winter night… He was the man called Yan Suqing.
Ning Que was sure about it. His previous vigilance outside the small lakeside house was finally confirmed at that moment because his adversary has predicted his visit, and even the purpose of his visit.
His split vision had perceived some tea leaves at the foot of the bamboo wall. After a moment of silence, he looked at the Tea Specialist in the stone chair and asked, “Then let’s come to the point… I wonder, in the case of Xuanwei General’s family being totally exterminated, and the massacre in the village at the border of the Yan territory, were you involved?”
Yan Suqing’s brows somewhat furrowed, never expecting that the lad who came to kill him tonight should do it for an affair from years ago. He had thought that those aged things had already vanished with the dead. Then after a slight bit of silence, he smiled, “Of course I’m involved, or else how can a promising officer in the Military Ministry, like me, be reduced to a Tea Specialist looking after houses for tea merchants?”
“I should not be the first person that you want to find.” Looking at Ning Que, he inquired, “Where are the others? Many years we haven’t seen each other, I wonder what they are doing now.”
In silence, Ning Que observed his small lakeside house and the surroundings, and looking at the range of this peaceful and luxurious residence, he replied, “They are just so-so, at least not as good as you. You can even enjoy such a nice place.”
Yan Suqing chuckled and shook his head, sighing. “Do you know why they merely muddle their poor lives, while I lead a satisfactory one? Because I am still of some benefit to the Empire.”
The randomly worn clothes, the water on the small furnace waiting to be boiled, and the empty teacup in his left hand all indicated that this Tea Specialist was freshly awakened. But that was just because he had sensed the approaching of Ning Que to the small lakeside house, instead of pre-envisioning the intended murder.
A seemingly emaciated Tea Specialist who was occupied with tea sets and spring water each day, having predicted the visit of a killer, should wait so calmly in his chair without any calls for help or intention to escape? What had encouraged him to do so? What’s more, what was the benefit of a Tea Specialist to the Empire? How could a Tea Specialist look after houses for a tea merchant? How could a Tea Specialist live a better life than that of Chen Zixian after that affair?
All those possibilities were pondered over in Ning Que’s mind in a flash, including the most impossible one. An unprecedented, suffocating look gradually emerged from his delicate eyes uncovered by the gauze mask, and he looked at his adversary, asking, “Why don’t you try to escape?”
“Why escape?”
Yan Suqing grinned at the lad. “Now that I am awake, how can you kill me?”
Then after a slight whisk of his sleeve, a small dim sword without a hilt came out from the teapoy on the stone table.
Ning Que felt somewhat frozen, his eyebrows furrowed. He realized that the most impossible one came into being: This thin and weak Tea Specialist… was actually a cultivator!
At that moment, the dialogue during the trip between him and the elder Lyu Qingchen came back to him—the one that Sword Masters in Chang’an were as plentiful as dogs, and Psyche Masters could be found anywhere.
Back then, Lyu Qingchen smilingly commented this view as an exaggeration. When arriving in Chang’an City, Ning Que had witnessed a cultivator from the South School of Haotian Taoism conjuring at a roadside altar, and fought with Chao Xiaoshu against cultivators at Spring Breeze Pavilion. Yet, he never expected behind such an unimpressive name on the list of revenge was, in fact, a strong cultivator.
The information from Zhuo Er did not give a hint, and Sangsang also failed to perceive it. No one had imagined that a former document appraiser in the Military Ministry, who was at present a Tea Specialist supported by tea merchants, should be a cultivator skilled at controlling a sword!
The furrowing eyebrows of Ning Que stretched bit by bit. Then he stared at Yan Suqing sitting in the chair, as well as the hiltless mini-sword in front of him, uttering with a gentle smile, “Since you don’t try to escape, then I will escape.”
Hardly had his voice faded away that he turned back without any hesitation and darted to the outside of the small lakeside house like a horse running madly.
…
…
Staring at the vanishing back of this lad beside the bamboo wall, Yan Suqing chuckled out of great interest, shaking his head and sighing, “Now that you have come to kill a cultivator, how can you safely escape?”
Those mild words, mixed with intense self-confidence and homicidal intent, were slowly uttered from between the lips of the middle-aged man, during which he put down the big, coarse teacup in his left hand to roll over his left sleeve with the other hand. The index finger and the middle finger of his left hand closed to make a Sword Formula which was diagonally pointing to the outside of the small lakeside house across the air. The whole process was both natural and unrestrained.
Along with the pointing, the dim hiltless mini-sword on the teapoy suddenly made a deep buzz, as if it was infused with some magical power. Then abruptly, it bounced up from the teapoy, and faded into a trace of light, splitting the darkest sky before dawn above the small lakeside house and thrusting directly to the outside.
Ning Que felt a burst of aching on his back as if it were pricked by needles. However, what others could perceive from his eyes out of the gauze mask was only calmness rather than panic. On the verge of breaking through those woods of bamboo, he unexpectedly fell down with a heavy stamp on the ground with his left foot, making his entire body turn over, and straight after, his right foot trampled on a bulky moso bamboo.
“Deng! Deng! Deng! Deng!”
His solid shoe soles stomped on the bamboo alternately, leading to fierce shakes of the tree, which caused countless bamboo leaves to rustle down like broken arrows. Supported by the bamboo tree, he quickly climbed onto the wall of the house, which was a near escape from that flash of sword from inside the house. Then his knees slightly bent to borrow the elastic force of the bamboo tree, and he darted into the courtyard.
With a whoosh, his body skimmed over the wall like a sharp arrow, and the sharp-cut podao had already been drawn out of its sheath. Then, with a hummed snort, Ning Que exerted power from his waist and belly and his wrist turned over, then the podao hacked down head-on toward Yan Suqing like a blizzard!
The moment he realized that this Tea Specialist was a powerful cultivator, he was well aware that another fatal test was bound to be confronted tonight. Although he was quite clear that his current ability could not rival that of a powerful cultivator, he still bore no intention to withdraw. Because he understood that escape meant death when facing a cultivator.
At the mouth of Northern Mountain Road, he witnessed how the most crack bodyguards of the Tang, like Peng Yutao, fought with a Great Sword Master by virtue of their strong will and strict discipline. Outside Spring Breeze Pavilion, he also saw how Chao Xiaoshu beheaded two powerful, foreign cultivators relying on his own unparalleled strength and intrepid power of control. From those experiences, he learned that one should not go backward, but forward when confronting a cultivator, which could probably help him to avoid being killed.
So his previous retreat was actually not a withdrawal.
It was a disguise of going forward.
Forward to kill him.
…
…
A ringing sound was heard!
Ning Que twisted his body and wielded the podao to hack away the dim sword light that was stabbing him from behind, after which he fell down from the air.
The first time of their encounter, a grain-sized gap appeared at the edge of the podao, and a tiny break was found at the upper part of his old clothing. However, his expression outside the gauze mask was still of no fear. His legs stuck to the ground like two nails and his hands clasped the long handle of the podao. Meanwhile, he slightly lowered his head, observing the surroundings with vigilance.
Suddenly, the Podao in his hand turned upward, leaving a stain of blood on his left shoulder, which meanwhile helped him escape that light of sword attacking from the right. The subtle vibration he felt from his hand confirmed that his blade had at least touched the flying sword.
Ning Que still moderately lowered his head, staring silently at Yan Suqing, who was sitting in the chair a few paces off and listening attentively to occasionally murmuring buzzes around the small lakeside house in darkness. What he wanted was to determine the direction of the flying sword.
He made a stride forward.
A falling leaf outside the courtyard was split into two pieces by an intangible power.
He flopped down backward like a mountain, and the dim shadow of sword darted to the sky, scraping his shoulder.
He beat the ground by his right hand and tightened his waist and belly to stand up again. Then he interchanged his feet like a flash of lightning and the dim shadow of sword sharply stabbed into the cracks between slates ahead of his feet, which buzzed and flew away soon after and then disappeared.
His position at present was three steps behind the previous one.
A small oil lamp on the right of the tea table sent forth a light glow. In a stone chair beside sat Yan Suqing, who showed a half-smile.
The distance between the two was just a few paces, yet the darkness of this few paces was so insurmountable.
Because nobody knew the position of that dim shadow of sword in the darkness.
…
…
Clenching the long knife handle, he stably stomped on the slate, evading the gaps and protrusions, to ensure that he could borrow the entire power of the earth anytime he needed. Ning Que stared at the Tea Specialist like a statue, with no fear in his eyes but only calmness and focus.
It was the first time in his life to fight against a cultivator all by himself, and he knew he had little chance to win. Normally, he would feel afraid because he was clear that he was likely to usher in death tonight.
However, having been tortured by death many times, Ning Que was quite clear that fear was the most useless state of mind to have in such a situation. His only choice was to transfer his fear and nervousness into excitement in order to survive a fatal condition.
The flying sword flashed with a buzz toward him, so he waved his knife and hacked down. Even if nothing was hit, he could still avoid being hurt in crucial points of his body based on his fighting instinct fostered in battlefields and his strong ability of body control during key moments.
The tinkling sword, as quickly as a flying knife and as white as snow, left numerous dense wounds in his body with its shadow. Then, blood infiltrated his underwear, exuded through his old robe, and started to drip on the surface of his body, which made him a bloody man.
But Ning Que, whose feet remained nailed to the slate, still clasped his podao with his hands, staring at the strong cultivator in the chair with no expression in his eyes. He showed no panic, nor fear, and was even without any frenzy from a desperate situation.
“A soldier from the Frontier Fortress?”
Yan Suqing gradually withdrew his smile, and looking at the bloody lad close in front of him, he calmly said, “The continuous 14 swords does not directly kill you, but only leave you some small wounds. Only the frontier soldiers have this physical instinct. But mind you, even if the wounds are very small and the blood flows slowly, you are still gonna to die if it doesn’t stop.”
“I know, so I have to find a chance to chop off your head before I lose all my blood,” Ning Que answered.
“You won’t have such a chance.” Yan Suqing shook his head toward Ning Que with sympathy.
At that point, the water on the small charcoal furnace finally began to bubble up, with hot mist spurting out from the mouth of the kettle.
The Tea Specialist lifted up the kettle with his left hand to pour water into the coarse teacup. Looking at those tea leaves floating up and down in the boiling water, he lowered his head and said, “I will enjoy my morning tea now. Then, the game is over.”
…
…
(Another chapter is under composition.) (To be continued… If you like this novel, we welcome you to go to qidian.com to give recommended votes and a monthly pass. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
