Translator: Transn Editor: Transn
Never have they seen one so invincible and indestructible! To the best of their knowledge, not even the strongest stage of the protection skills could have prevented even a white blemish upon the skin nor the hews and stabs of blades and daggers upon one’s flesh. Not to mention one’s eyes and mouth which are the most common vulnerable points of protective auras.
“Impossible! No human could have emerged from such great assaults unscathed!”Meng Qi stood proud and tall before the innkeeper and the woman in pink, like immortals of old legends and demons from their deepest nightmare, full of fear they collapsed.
Rooted by agonizing fear while beads of sweat trickled down their foreheads, not knowing what mighty slew of onslaught that Meng Qi might unleash on them, there was but only one word that rang wildly in their minds: Flee! They were turning to bolt when a cheery voice called out to them, “Did I give you leave to escape?”
Immense panic and fear stabbed at the hearts of the pair. The mere modicum of caution by Meng Qi was enough to shatter the remainder of their spirits into pieces. They dared not take another step and remained motionless.
Meng Qi could not help but feel amused by the petrified pair that stayed immobile before him. He would not have been able to prevent their flight if they had indeed escaped. He was bound by the Dominator of the Samsara Realms to not partake actively in this quest. But to cripple one’s spirits and extinguish one’s courage may, at certain times, be more effective than merely slaying and killing.
Meng Qi turned suddenly to the newest recruits and barked, “Search them for the antidote.”
Min Renlong and the others looked at each other with disbelief. Paralyzed by the effects of the drug, they could hardly lift a finger, let alone moving their limbs and searching for the antidote. “How could he have issued such an instruction?”
There suddenly a figure amongst them spoke with a note of amazement, “Have you noticed?” It was Yuanyang, the girl of mercurial temperament.
She could have sworn she had disguised herself well.
“The flow of your genuine Qi, the reactions of your muscles, your heartbeat and bloodstream are evident to me as the stars on a cloudless night, dear girl…” Meng Qi thought silently. An amused simper hung from the corners of his lips as he gestured Yuanyang to search the innkeeper and the woman in pink for the antidote.
Yuanyang rose from the table. A tree bug was resting on the back of her palm. It was a beetle that was dark blue in color, but various shades of rainbow colors glinted off its back.
She looked awkwardly at her fellow companions. To them, she explained, “The poison in our food had escaped my sights initially. I did not know of it until Blue Star began absorbing the drug on its own. But we have eaten considerable portions, and it was too late for me to warn everyone. That is why I feigned immobility to bid my time and waited for the culprits to reveal themselves before I surprised them.”
“Fair response,” Meng Qi gave a rare note of approval. Yuanyang would have been their only hope for survival if he was not present.
Her companions felt only thankfulness for her sensibility and intuition. They bore no grudge over her facade. Their gratefulness and jittery urge to restore themselves hastened Yuanyang to ransack both the perpetrators for the antidote.
Two crimson patches burned on her cheeks as she exhaled slowly, excited at the appreciation and commendation of her peers. Seldom was she sprinkled with words of encouragement and praise even within her tribe. She was more used to words of discrimination.
With flighty steps, she approached the woman in pink and the dark innkeeper. She had barely laid her hands on them when they willingly surrendered the antidote out of their intense fear.
With increased awareness on the perils of treachery and deceits, Yuanyang allowed her beetle, Blue Star to first ascertain the validity of the antidote before walking back to her companions in delight. Her companions were gulping down the cure when the faces of the innkeeper and the woman in pink grew dark and sullen. They clutched their throats while croaking hoarsely and writhed in agony. Trickles of blue blood dripped onto the floor from their mouths.
Moments later the pair collapsed onto the ground and drew their last breaths.
Feeling the glances of Meng Qi and her companions upon her, Yuanyang revealed, “I had allowed Blue Star to bite them with its venom earlier. To avoid further troubles and others finding out about us and our plans. Had they been allowed to escape alive.”
“Indeed. Word of our presence and our plans would have reached the ears of the Evil-Parting Sword if they had managed to flee. The success of the assassination would be in grave risk,” agreed Wu Xiuxian, who was the first to tender his endorsement of her deed.
Weng Lingyu stood over the corpses on the floor. She broke into a slight shiver before she relented on Yuanyang’s decision and its implications. She too nodded approvingly. Min Renlong drew his sword and stabbed the corpses each with a blow of his sword in vindictive anger as his strength slowly returned.
“Very well. We shall leave this place at once. We will seek a place to hide, disguise ourselves and devise another plan.” Meng Qi commanded as he stood up holding his sword, thus concluding the baptism of the four young fledglings on the perils and intrigues of the Samsara Realms.
No longer would any effects of most drugs and poisons trouble him now that all nine of his Apertures are now entirely unsealed. The Inner Sphere would unconsciously expel harmful substances in his system without any noticeable influence and impression upon him.
…
In a quiet courtyard behind a busy marketplace.
Trees grew thick and lush. Meng Qi was sitting cross-legged beneath the cooling shade of one such tree which dense and sturdy boughs allowed him to meditate and train on unsealing his Primal Aperture at his Mid-Brows. His sword was laying across his knees.
Suddenly a loud and frantic series of footsteps approached the courtyard. The steps came to a halt just outside the yard and through its door slipped in a girl. It was Weng Lingyu. She looked miserable and dismal; her clothes were wet and drenched with sugar syrup.
“Alas. What happened?” Noticing her entry, Meng Qi slowly opened his eyes. An amused smile curled at his lips as he caressed his sheathed sword.
He had before long anticipated of Weng Lingyu’s current state.
Anger and exasperation consumed her face. “Sir, I had only sold syrup drinks near her. But the hatred she showed me was akin to one who has the greatest of hatred and malice! How could she hate me so much?” she complained.
It was the fourth day since the incidents at the inn. The first few days were spent procuring information and news from the members of the lowest levels of the Iron Heart Hall through various means. It has been made known to them that Fu Cuo, the Evil-Parting Sword made customary visits to his favorite paramour who was one of the most famous courtesans in the largest brothel of the entire city. He would habitually visit her once every two days.
Fu Cuo was believed to have placed necessary security measures in this long frequented brothel. A foolhardy and hurried assault on the brothel would surely be disastrous when their target was known to be vividly attentive to the matters of his well-being. The deed would be carried out during Fu Cuo’s journey to the brothel. The company would conceal themselves and mount an ambush on him before retreating with haste and await their return to the Samsara Square.
With the concoction of a viable strategy, the members of the company began to learn about the roles of their disguise. Weng Lingyu was to masquerade as a syrup drink peddler who would ply her trade on the sides of the street. However, the day’s events did not seem to have fared favorably for her as another woman who was also a vendor of the same trade had dire contempt on the prospects of a rival.
“It is heinous to jeopardize one’s livelihood as it is to kill one’s elders, some would say,” Meng Qi remarked simply.
Inexperienced she may be, Weng Linyu was not a witless simpleton who could not comprehend the gist behind Meng Qi’s remark. Busy and crowded venues were often the best and most convenient sites for assassinations. Peddlers, vendors, and traders would align themselves by the sidewalk, presenting their wares and making a living amidst the bustling mob of passersby. To embed herself amongst the local congregation of tradesman and mongers would surely elicit disdain and scorn.
“What would you have me do, sir?” She sought Meng Qi’s counsel with wide-eyed apprehension.
“Would Fu Cuo not notice if a new vendor has been present on the street which he frequents almost every day?” Meng Qi asked in response, “I would have you disable the woman who had done this to you during the day of the deed. You will disguise as her and take her place. Keep your head low and refrain from contact. Not many would notice her absence in such short period.”
Weng Lingyu nodded lightly in an amicable agreement, “Understood sir. I will relocate and practice my role elsewhere in the meantime.”
Their conversation had barely ended when a heavily-bruised figure in tattered clothing slipped into the courtyard. It was Wu Xiuxian.
“Brother Wu, you were hit by other beggars?” Weng Lingyu sniggered with a hand over her mouth.
The four companions have become fast friends in the few days that have elapsed.
Interestingly, Wu Xiuxian looked no different to Weng Lingyu when she first returned. With equal annoyance and displeasure, he exclaimed loudly, “The obvious must have escaped me! I fail to fathom the reason of my beatings with such hatred and hostility!”
Weng Lingyu peered at Meng Qi. Taking a leaf from his book, she mimicked his demeanor and snickered knowingly, “It is heinous to jeopardize one’s livelihood as it is to kill one’s elders, some would say.”
It had been an incredibly eventful day for the four companions. Their plans of role-playing innocent dwellers of the locale have been impedimented by ordeals of annoyance and no less pain. The tales of assassins masquerading as flower vendors, beggars on the pavements and fortune-tellers; springing out of the grass to commit their deed with blinding speed and impeccable precision before retreating with equal adeptness and flair into the sunset had been so smooth and slick from the mouths of story-tellers and the accounts of stories and books. One could not have been more mistaken about the fantasy of emulating their favorite folklore heroes. It was only during the execution of the actual deed does one appreciate the true rigors and challenges of an actual assassination.
Two days followed, the four companions slowly learned their craft under the wings of Meng Qi’s guidance. Through pain and mistakes, the partners embraced the arts of surviving in the Samsara missions like a caterpillar shedding its chrysalis.
…
The day of the sixth day arrived. The sun was westering down to the horizon in the marketplace. Filled with strolling people, the street appeared lively.
A child led by his mother began sobbing as he begged for a syrup drink. Relenting to her son’s pleadings, the mother brought her son to the stall on the pavements. There were parades of patrons who milled around the stall selling syrup drinks. The lady proprietor who usually greeted her customers with warm smiles and amiable friendliness was engrossed in her work, heeding the beckons and calls of her other patrons without lifting her face. A large pot was boiling sugary syrup up to the brim of it. The hot, golden brew churned and ruffled with a sweet fragrance that wafted into the surroundings, attracting more interested patrons.
The mother handed the sweet broth to her doted son that he so desired. Led by his mother holding his hand, the child was leaving with a satisfied grin when a soiled and grubby hand stretched outwards near his foot.
“Alms… Alms for one who has not eaten for days…” Out of the dry, thirsty throat of the filthy beggar came a throaty plea.
Compassions of sympathy overwhelmed the child’s mother. She hastily dropped a coin into the beggar’s begging bowl. He had barely uttered his thanks at the charity of his benefactor, but she had already dragged her son with her, leaving hastily.
Opposite stood another stall peddling hair ornaments for ladies. There a stood a young lady of extrinsic charms who was looking through the wares of the peddler with great interest. In an inn not far away, a man in black garb sat quietly in a private parlor. His eyes studied the passing crowd intently as he sipped at his tea while taking the occasional bite off his meat. A sword rested on his table beside his arm.
Everything taking place in the streets below did not escape the watchful eyes of Meng Qi who had occupied a seat in a parlor upstairs. With a smile of nonchalance, he played with a teacup while maintaining his watch over his apprentices. Quietly, he awaited the climax with open and unabashed interest.
The darkness of the twilight was nearing when the clopping of horses’ hooves echoed from the end of the street. A company of riders had appeared and were approaching the congested alley. There rode Fu Cuo, the Evil-Parting Sword upon his steed, proud and dignified, with nine riding guardsmen providing protection. The strongest amongst them have unsealed at least an Aperture, most certainly not lesser than the power of Wu Xiuxian.
Ten riders entered the busy avenue and began to lessen their pace to accommodate the narrow path allowed by the pedestrians. Proudly, Fu Cuo trotted past the curious onlookers, looking sideways as he admired the prosperity of his rule.
Suddenly, the brown stallion that bore the imperious leader neighed wildly and tried to rear up. The crowds began to panic and shouted as they scrambled for safety, lest the hooves of the lord’s frenzied stallion strike upon them. None of them noticed a blue tree bug nestled on one of the flailing horse’s legs. A glint of rainbow colors flashed prominently from the back of the tree bug.
Suddenly, as if waiting for a cue, the lady peddler who had kept her face low and hidden in her busyness of attending her patrons, took a bold step forward and began splashing bucketfuls of hot, boiling syrup onto the entourage of Fu Cuo and his guards.
Screams of pain and anguish hemmed the chaotic display of pandemonium. Amidst the jostling and clambering pedestrians who were rushing to safety, a number of the guards drew their weapons to block the attack of boiling syrup. Some leaped off their horses in their hysteria to get to safety. Madness and terror gripped all who were present.
All had failed to notice a beggar who had appeared from within the frenzied mob and lunged for Fu Cuo. With light steps, the beggar closed in on Fu Cuo, striking at his throat and forehead with an iron brush-like rod.
Ingenuous to his perils, Fuo Cuo had tried to calm his horse when it first became mad and nearly had him thrown off. Little did he expect that danger was at hand until the assailing syrup broth and iron rod loomed near.
His acute hearing bestowed by his unsealed Ear Aperture had allowed him to notice the flapping of the beetle’s wings before the anarchy ensued. But the unsuspecting leader had dismissed the noise when he saw the bug flying away from him. He would never have found out that the tree bug had returned to sting his horse, lighting a match to the tinderbox of tumult and uproar.
In his alarm, he brandished his sword to defend himself from the imminent threats. With two swift strokes, he parried the incoming attacks of the iron rod and rolled sideways with great agility to avoid the burning liquid.
Just then, his senses tingled wildly, warning him of another threat. A flash of steely glint fell from mid-air, slashing down on him with intense fury!
In the brink moment of a knife’s edge, Fu Cuo used his remaining leg to suspend himself in mid-air by clinging on to the back of his horse. The fractional moment of a pause had allowed him to avoid the critical aerial attack by his assailant. With a flick of his blade, his assailant had avoided his reprisal and granted him a brief moment of respite.
But Min Renlong and Wu Xiuxian did not dawdle and remain. Instead, the assassins had turned on their heels and escaped without any care of the efficacy of their assaults.
Puzzled by the strange behavior of his assailant, Fu Cuo had barely heaved a relief when his body shooked. His face turned dark rapidly, and bluish blood began to dribble from the edges of his lips.
The venomous bug committed the actual deed! Wu Xiuxian’s and Min Renlong’s attacks were but mere distractions to keep Fu Cuo occupied while the lethal bug stung him with its deadly venom!
By then, the syrup brew peddler who was masqueraded by Weng Lingyu and Yuanyang who had loitered by the hair ornament stall had earlier slipped into the convulsing ruckus of the mob and were nowhere in sight.
The guards separated into groups and tried to trail the escaping Wu Xiuxian and his companions but their efforts proved to be in vain in the whirlwind of panic and mess.
Meng Qi’s head inclined favorably. He was satisfied with the display of the four recruits. Great potential and expeditious improvements were clear to him in the execution of this assassination. In time, they would progress and prove to be invaluable subsidiaries to his team.
He waited for his apprentices to return and report on their success. But none of them had yet made their retreat to his parlor. His chin dipped subtly, as he anticipated minor inconveniences.
Swift steps were heard rising up the wooden stairs of the inn. Weng Lingyu had made a slight diversion to ward off any pursuers. The footsteps came to a rest, and quietly, Weng Lingyu entered the parlor.
She believed that their mission had ended.
She was delighted with her success. Her mouth opened to speak to her guide when a man, armed with a saber, barged into the parlor. His somber demeanor spoke of strength and power.
“He… He followed me here…” Weng Lingyu could only stutter in shock.
The man turned to Meng Qi who was sipping his tea leisurely. Somberly he said, “I have presumed that a mastermind must be behind this affair to assassinate the Xiang host. My suspicions were true after all…”
He approached Meng Qi with slow but long strides confidently.
Without batting an eye, Meng Qi exhaled heavily. Lifting his sheathed sword, he stabbed directly at the knees of his adversary.
The assailant’s eyebrows twitched. He brandished his saber to parry Meng Qi’s stab, but Meng Qi needed only a faint adjustment to avoid the blocking strike of the stranger. His sword continued to bite at the stranger’s knees.
The man could only hop backward to avoid Meng Qi’s pierce and retaliated with another leveled but forceful slash.
Once again, Meng Qi’s sword evaded his parry and lurched obstinately for the stranger’s knees.
The three consecutive stabs by Meng Qi had forced the stranger to retreat backward each time.
Meng Qi placed down his sword. The stranger has been driven back to the position he was at when he first entered.
“Leave,” said Meng Qi flatly.
Defeated, beads of sweat began to drip from the stranger’s forehead. His breath turned heavy. “You… You have no desire of knowing my name and my reasons for being here?” he asked bleakly.
“You do not interest me,” replied Meng Qi with a mirthless smile. He poured a cup of tea for himself.
“Very well!” exclaimed the stranger. His expression grew dark with suppressed anger and helplessness. “Effortless it was your defeat of me, dear sir. Peerless you would have been with skills such as yours!”
Meng Qi’s smile remained. His gaze fell upon the noisy street below that has recovered from its earlier chaos and hysteria. With impassivity, he said, “I have extensive experiences in the craft of combat. I have neither the interest nor the desire to duel with the likes of you. Leave.”
There was no hint of contempt, not even an iota of disdain. It was but a brusque reflection of the real sentiments of one superiorly skilled. The stranger grew pale in the soul-crushing disillusionment that fell upon him. Wordlessly, he turned slowly and ambled away from the room and down the stairs. The slow and heavy footsteps that trailed into silence spoke profoundly of his tremendous frustration and defeat.
Weng Lingyu looked at Meng Qi. The strokes with the blade that her guide had displayed were faintly familiar to her. Then, it came to her. It was a stroke from a prominent set of sword disciplines in Jiangdong. An origin which would have left anyone awe-struck and speechless. Haltingly she spoke, “The…The Kanxu sword art…You…You are…The Wang Clan…”
Immediately but gently, Meng Qi placed a finger over his lips to silence her, “Shuu… Now we do not want everyone to know about that, do we? Ahem…”
He feigned a few coughs mysteriously. Darkness descended upon them, signifying the end of their first quest.
In the Wang Clan’s ancestral residence at Guangling. A sudden sneeze burst from Wang Siyuan. He frowned in bewilderment and calculated with his fingers. Still, he was unable to divine anything.
