Chapter 20

But he remained standing there, trembling, without falling.

His body gradually began to shake more violently. He seemed to be afraid of something, his terror beyond all measure.

The passengers aboard the boat shouted even louder and more fiercely.

Suddenly, someone on the boat stood up. This person had originally been quiet and ordinary, sitting upright in a corner without a word, utterly inconspicuous. But the moment he stood, an austere presence seemed to arise from nowhere, as though the wind over the Mo River had blown through blade after blade of ice. Everyone shuddered and trembled, unable to say a single word.

Only those who had seen blood and killed people possessed such an icy temperament.

As that man swept his gaze over them, a stifling dread rose unbidden.

The people on the boat felt bitterness fill their throats. Unable to speak, they all lowered their heads, their hearts pounding with terror.

He was a tall, lean man, his hair knot arranged without a strand out of place and pinned with a tortoiseshell hairpin. A fierce gleam flashed in his narrow eyes, giving him an incomparably dangerous air. Beside him sat a woman wearing a hooded cloak, her head lowered so that her features could not be seen.

The man turned his piercing gaze toward the Ferryman, who stood motionless at the landing, and called out, "Boatman, it is time to be on our way."

To be on one's way meant to set out, but it carried many other implications.

Coming from that cruel man's dry throat, it immediately made everyone feel the most ominous meaning within it.

The Ferryman froze, then forced out, "I have had too much to drink. I fear I cannot take you to the other shore."

The man said, "Go as far as you can. Stop dawdling. The time has come. If I say go, then you must go!"

The Ferryman said, "I truly cannot go. The hour of the dragon has not yet arrived! Before the hour of the dragon, I absolutely will not depart."

The man snorted coldly and strode from the boat toward the Ferryman at the landing. With every step he took—boom, boom, boom—the entire ferry rocked violently as though it were about to capsize, and the passengers tumbled over in a heap.

In the blink of an eye, the man had reached the Ferryman. He suddenly stretched out a hand to seize the back of the old man's neck, intending to lift him aboard and make him steer the boat.

The old man abruptly turned his head and immediately saw the man's cold smile and sinister face. His face went white with fright, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground. The man's grab missed.

A chill flashed through the man's eyes. He bent down and grabbed again, finally catching the Ferryman, then hauled hard and lifted him up. With a cold smile, he said, "Since you insist on waiting until the hour of the dragon to set sail, I will help you sober up first!" Carrying the Ferryman, he headed toward the water. But after taking just one step, he stopped, because the old man's feet seemed to have grown roots in the ground.

The man frowned and gave a cold shout, suddenly exerting force through his arm as he tried to lift the Ferryman completely. He had already noticed that something was off about this old man; nine times out of ten, he knew martial arts. That was why he had used such tremendous strength—to test the old man.

But when he exerted himself, the Ferryman floated up like a swallow. Not only did the Ferryman fly up, but the grim man flew up as well. The two fell into the water with a splash. The Ferryman struggled wildly, churning the surface with loud splashes before climbing out of the water.

But that man had vanished.

The Ferryman climbed ashore and stared blankly at the water, crying out in alarm, "Where is he? Why has he not come up? Ah, could there be water ghosts in the Mo River?"

Someone suddenly screamed, "Look over there!"

Everyone on the boat looked toward the river. Seven or eight zhang away, a person was drifting downstream, rising and falling with the waves. It was a corpse—the man's corpse.

Everyone found it strange and sinister. A chill surged into their hearts as they all looked toward the Ferryman at the landing.

The Ferryman was beside himself with panic. He dropped onto the ground and cried, "It had nothing to do with me! Nothing to do with me..."

Chaos erupted aboard the boat. Some people no longer dared remain onboard and ran toward the landing.

As the boat fell into disorder, someone suddenly jumped from it and splashed into the water.

The hooded woman also abruptly rose to her feet. Those who had been about to run off the boat suddenly foamed at the mouth and collapsed one after another. Not a single one managed to get off the boat.

The boat was still full of people—a boat full of dead people.

The Ferryman's mouth also spewed a great deal of foam, streaked through with scarlet blood.

The woman said coldly, "It is the hour of the dragon now, is it not?"

The Ferryman's face had twisted grotesquely in agony. He stared despairingly at the woman, of whom only a pointed chin was visible, unable to utter half a word.

The woman snorted. "Now that the hour of the dragon has arrived, even if you want to leave, you cannot. Old man, why would you not listen to advice?"

The Ferryman said with difficulty, "A man who wanted to save his brother took three hidden weapons for me. His brother is on my boat. I must wait for him to come!"

The woman sneered. "What a pity he cannot come at all. Under the Green Bamboo Swordsman's hand, he will not last half an hour."

Suddenly, the thunderous sound of hoofbeats came from afar.

The smile on the woman's face deepened. Two shallow dimples could be seen on the sliver of cheek she had revealed. She said, "The Green Bamboo Swordsman has arrived already, bringing me a fine horse! Hehehehe!" She laughed with great delight.

That fine horse was naturally Liu Ruyan's Chasing Lightning.

But soon, she could no longer laugh. Because what the newcomer held was not a sword and a human head, but an iron staff.

"Ning Family's Chang'an?"

The woman cried out in shock and retreated five steps in a row.

Ning Family's Chang'an had already arrived at the landing. With a cold smile, he said, "Guo Qingshui, your plan has failed."

Guo Qingshui muttered, "It has indeed failed. I have finally learned something: the Green Bamboo Swordsman is a piece of trash." Her expression must have been exceedingly ugly, because her pointed chin was trembling.

Little Brother suddenly emerged from the water and crawled ashore.

His whole body was hunched from unbearable pain, his face dark purple and blue. Yet when he looked at Chang'an, he bared his teeth in a grin, revealing teeth as white as snow.

A smile also appeared on Chang'an's pale face. Although the clothes over his upper body had been completely soaked in blood, he was truly happy.

Little Brother said cheerfully, "Our lives really are hard to kill."

Chang'an said, "We will not die so easily."

Little Brother said, "My iron staff never leaves my hand. It is time for you to return it, isn't it?"

Chang'an said, "This is a divine weapon. It truly cannot be handed lightly to another person." Chang'an passed the iron staff to Little Brother.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the boat: "It is a trap!"

That was Little Brother's voice, tense and distorted.

Chang'an froze. He discovered that the Little Brother before him had suddenly straightened up, every joint in his body cracking explosively. This person was not Little Brother. Little Brother was nowhere near this tall.

The iron staff in Chang'an's hand was already seized. A huge force came from one end of the staff, jolting Chang'an's body high into the air from horseback. The iron staff was already in the fake Little Brother's hands.

Chang'an was still in midair when the iron staff began to howl.

That strike carried tremendous force, enough to split steles and shatter rocks, and its whistling was exceptionally piercing.

Chang'an's heart sank. The wound he had barely forced shut tore open again, and the piercing pain instantly scattered the strength he had gathered. He could not adjust his body in midair.

But the iron staff suddenly stopped. A hand gripped the middle of it, utterly unmoving.

Those hands were covered in calluses and wrinkles. They looked powerless, yet could not be shaken. They were hands accustomed to labor, hands that often held an oar. The Ferryman, who had supposedly been poisoned and coughing up bloody foam, stood straight with his aged body, his eyes filled with the vicissitudes of time and unyielding resolve.

Chang'an landed on the ground and stared at the scene in astonishment, his heart still pounding with lingering fear.

When he had first seen the Ferryman, he had not noticed in the slightest that the old man knew martial arts. He had merely taken him for an old man keeping watch at the entrance, scared half to death.

A true master hid among the common folk!

The Ferryman sighed. "This old man ferries people day after day, taking them from this shore to the other shore. This shore is the human world; the other shore is also the human world. The guests who come and go on my ferry each have their own paths. But there has never been a road of death. For all these years, my boat has never been stained with blood or burdened with human lives. Why must you shatter this peace, leaving me unable to spend my remaining years in tranquility, and harming so many lives besides?! In the end, everyone must die, but not everyone deserves to die. What wrong have these many innocent people committed, that they should die such an untimely death?"

With each question from the Ferryman, he suddenly flicked his wrist. The fake Little Brother, gripping the iron staff, gave a muffled groan. Purple spread across his face in utter horror as he staggered back again and again, spat out a mouthful of shattered internal organs, and fell dead.

Chang'an's pupils contracted. He had never seen such vast and singular inner strength. A flick of the wrist had shattered another person's internal organs—it was simply horrifying beyond belief. Even Yang Taiyi, for all his profound inner strength, was far inferior to this Ferryman.

Chang'an leaped, and he was already aboard the boat.

Guo Qingshui slowly removed her hood, revealing a bewitchingly beautiful face. A gentle smile rested on her lips, crimson as blood, while her bright eyes flickered as they stared at Chang'an without the slightest fear.

Chang'an suddenly stepped forward and saw Little Brother tied into a bundle in a corner. The wad of cloth that had been stuffed into Little Brother's mouth had already been spat out. Little Brother's face was now dark purple, and the light in his eyes had dimmed.

Guo Qingshui said leisurely, "He has been poisoned."

Chang'an said coldly, "Hand over the antidote!"

Guo Qingshui burst into laughter. Her willow-slender waist swayed gently as she slowly circled Chang'an, then asked in a seductive voice, "Why should I give it to you?"

Chang'an seized Guo Qingshui in one hand and said coldly, "One life for one life! If you do not give me the antidote, I will kill you at once."

Guo Qingshui said indifferently, "Go ahead and kill me! If I die, a child named Erhu will not survive either."

The moment Chang'an heard the name "Erhu," his face turned iron-blue.

Guo Qingshui said, "I advise you to let me go instead. If Little Brother does not receive the antidote within one hour, he will surely die beyond all hope. Of course, you can kill me immediately, but you will never find the antidote. Then you can only watch Little Brother die as the poison takes effect, and do not even think Erhu will live!" Guo Qingshui thrust out her chest and stepped forward, extending her long, snow-white neck as she raised her head to look at Chang'an.

In the distance, a fast boat was speeding toward the landing across the water.

Chang'an said, "Give me the antidote, and I will spare you once. One life for one life!"

Guo Qingshui narrowed her eyes and smiled happily. Two small, exquisite jade bottles appeared in her hand. Only at the instant the fast boat drew near did she throw both jade bottles into the Mo River, forcing Chang'an to release her in order to catch them.

With a tap of her toes, Guo Qingshui had already swept onto the fast boat.

Chang'an caught the jade bottles. Guo Qingshui stood on the departing fast boat, her voice carrying from afar: "Ning Family's Chang'an, only one bottle contains the antidote. If you wish to save your friend, taste them yourself and you will know. Hahahaha... I know poison will not kill you. I will personally cut off your head. Just wait!"