Chapter 43

White Shadow showed no fear, joining with You Ye as they charged straight at Yang Wudou's blade that would annihilate all before it. The scene was nothing less than a living image of a moth flying into the flame. Who would throw themselves against a blade's edge? Yet that was undeniably what was happening.

The killing intent on Yang Wudou's face intensified as his eyes fixed on the indistinct White Shadow wrapped in icy essence energy.

Suddenly, a bizarre scene unfolded. White Shadow vanished from before Yang Wudou's eyes. Only You Ye remained before him—You Ye, who knew no martial arts. He froze in surprise, his face full of shock, but the blade in his hand did not hesitate as it swept for You Ye's throat. His blade was accurate to the finest fraction, capable of splitting hairs. He was convinced this strike would sever You Ye's throat and cut off her entire head. He could even picture blood bursting from the smooth, mirror-like wound. Yet the flesh on his face twitched uncontrollably, and fine sweat silently seeped out.

His blade was already only an inch from You Ye's throat, yet Yang Wudou stopped, shifting from utmost motion to utmost stillness in a shockingly abrupt instant.

Someone had appeared behind him, one hand gripping the back of his neck. The instant that hand seized him, Yang Wudou felt a chill flood through his entire body. His blood began to freeze. It felt as though he had fallen into a hopeless ice cavern, his muscles, flesh, and bones stiffening into frozen death.

In the blink of an eye, he had become an ice statue, his entire body coated in ice and exuding a faint chill.

His blade was only half an inch from You Ye's throat, yet that half-inch had become an eternal distance.

A dark, cold smile appeared on You Ye's face just as Yang Qianjun's roar rang out. Like an aged lion charging forward with undying majesty, Yang Qianjun pounced at White Shadow. But White Shadow casually threw a backhanded punch, meeting Yang Qianjun's enormous fist, its veins bulging.

The sound of ice shattering rang out, making teeth ache and hearts tremble. Yang Qianjun's entire arm bent in a bizarre angle as blood-red ice shards flew everywhere. With a single blow, his whole arm was ruined.

Yang Qianjun staggered back again and again, his face bloodless as he cried hoarsely, "This is Essence Cultivation—the Cold Chi Ice Dragon Yuan?!" An intensely cold current coursed through his body like a chi dragon and a frigid flood dragon. Wherever it passed, his flesh and blood froze. In the blink of an eye, Yang Qianjun's whole body had stiffened into death.

White Shadow said in surprise, "I never expected you to recognize the Cold Chi Ice Dragon Yuan! That's right, this is the Cold Chi Ice Dragon Yuan. Now you should know that saying I would bathe Yang Manor in blood was no empty threat, shouldn't you?"

Yang Qianjun looked mournfully at his son, Yang Wudou, who resembled an ice statue. His face was ashen, and in an instant he seemed to have aged decades, decayed and desolate as though half his body had already entered the grave. He could only tacitly accept White Shadow's words. Once one mastered a superior Essence Cultivation art, even ten thousand enemies were nothing to fear, much less a mere Yang Manor. He had never been a man with much desire for power. He had only wanted to place his two sons in suitable positions, then spend his old age in peace. He had recruited few wandering martial artists, for he had no heart for struggle and thus no heart for building armed strength. He had fought in wars for half his life, seeking only tranquil final years. He truly had grown weary of slaughter. The core fighting force of Yang Manor had been the household guards now lying dead behind him, most of them elite soldiers he had raised in the army, who had followed him faithfully even after he left office.

Those who accumulated not hidden virtue but sin, and habitually committed evil because it was small—men like Yang Wudou would never meet a good end, and would surely taste the bitter fruit of their deeds.

You Ye suddenly raised a hand and lightly tapped Yang Wudou between the brows. Cracks spread over Yang Wudou's face like a spiderweb, widening bit by bit. A series of cracking ice sounds rang out, and Yang Wudou's entire head shattered into countless pieces. His body crashed to the ground and likewise broke apart, scattering across the floor.

"My nightmare has finally ended!"

You Ye sighed in a dark, cold voice. She stared blankly at the chunks of flesh and blood covering the ground. There was not the slightest trace of fear left on her face. It was as though she were admiring a supremely beautiful painting. At that moment, she had neither love nor hatred, like a spectator numb to the extreme. Perhaps her heart had long since ceased to be here. Perhaps it had already died.

Love was born with life, hatred was born with life; fates arose and fates perished, between life and death.

White Shadow sighed. "Go in peace."

Yang Qianjun looked utterly desolate and miserable. Everywhere his gaze passed, blood flowed across the ground and wails tore at the heart. An old man whose family had been destroyed, a renowned general, greeted death in despair and sorrow. How fragile people were, and yet how tenacious. But at this moment, all life within him seemed extinguished. His heart was dead, and there was nothing left in life to cling to.

"Dust to dust, earth to earth. My son Wudou, wine and women harmed you all your life and brought this fatal calamity upon you. It was your father who failed to discipline you... Beneath the Nine Netherworlds, within the realm of the dead, your father will accompany you. Let us be father and son in the underworld for another lifetime. When we enter reincarnation again, eighteen years from now, you will be a good man once more! Ah, away I go, away I go..."

That long sigh held untold bitterness. The benevolence of a loving father, the depth of his love for his son—no words were needed. All of it lay within that final sigh before death.

Yang Qianjun's body shook, and his eyes slowly closed. His life had ended, yet he remained standing.

The rest who had survived by chance wailed and wept without end. A great Lineage had been destroyed by one person in this battle, leaving fewer than thirty or forty percent alive.

White Shadow seemed weary of killing as well and disliked the sight of blood. With a sweep of her long sleeve, she sighed. "Life and death, again and again—is that how it should be?"

You Ye looked deeply puzzled. At that moment, she was already lost. She had obtained everything that should only have been possible in the future—the destruction of the Yang Lineage. The Yang Lineage had been annihilated in the most tragic fashion right before her eyes, yet she felt none of her original excitement. She could not smile, could not call it happiness. Her heart held only bewilderment.

Hatred had sustained her life, even at the cost of selling her body. But now that her hatred had vanished, what purpose did she have in living? What could become the goal of her life?

White Shadow said slowly, "Revenge is not a pleasant thing. Revenge makes people fall, makes them rot, makes them slowly die. Hatred cannot be the sole pillar holding a person alive. One needs a loftier, greater dream. You Ye, women should have a sky of their own. The heavens over our world should not be monopolized by men..."

You Ye fell into thought and murmured, "Break the cage? Cast off the shackles? Fight for equality?"

An imperceptible smile appeared on White Shadow's face. She gave You Ye an approving glance and sighed softly. "It seems I did not choose the wrong person. My eye for people truly is not bad!" Then White Shadow suddenly turned toward Ning Chang'an, who had not yet left, and said with ancient-well stillness, "Tonight is your lucky night."

Ning Chang'an shook his head. "Tonight is my unlucky night. In this one night, I smelled too much blood, witnessed too much cruelty, and broke too many principles!"

White Shadow sighed softly. "At the very least, you are still alive. That is the greatest good fortune."

Ning Chang'an said, "I am alive because I can stay alive. It has nothing to do with luck or misfortune. I control myself. Luck and misfortune mean nothing to me."

White Shadow snorted. "You are not grateful that I spared your life? That gift is the greatest good fortune I could give you."

Ning Chang'an narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "You cannot give me good fortune, and I do not need your gift. Nor are you qualified to grant me anything. I control everything of mine!"

White Shadow was surprised, and her tone softened slightly. "You resent me that much?!"

Ning Chang'an spoke without concealment. "I hate you!"

White Shadow said heavily, "Why?"

Ning Chang'an said, "Committing lawless deeds in the name of salvation is hypocrisy. Hypocrites are what I hate!"

White Shadow suddenly laughed. "There is no resistance without bloodshed! Can men stop treating women as dependents? Can men share power with women? Can men allow women to stand alongside them in court? Can women naturally cast off the fetters of moral order? Hmph, no! I uphold the doctrine of human equality, bear the sect leader's mandate of Heaven, and follow the course of Heaven and Earth. I will change all this, overturn the great tide of the world, and make women equal to men, with no distinction of superiority or inferiority, no longer divided into masters and dependents. Women can study literature, train in martial arts, attend court, lead armies, govern the world, command the realm, and hold the sacred instruments of state! If we do not fight, if we do not tread a road of blood, then every beautiful vision will remain only a dream. How could it become real? The Yang Lineage merely brought this upon itself!"

Ning Chang'an sneered. "There is no use telling me these dreamlike visions, because no matter how great the dream, it is not a reason to kill. I only know that Yang Wudou alone was the chief culprit. His father, Yang Qianjun, may have been guilty of failing to discipline his son, but it was not a crime deserving death. And so many outsiders died as well, innocent lives cut down in vain. Killing is a sin. How dare you slaughter indiscriminately?"

Icy energy swirled around White Shadow's body as she said coldly and resolutely, "Killing is a sin? Then I will exchange the sins upon my body for one grand dream made real! You Ye, we are leaving!"

You Ye said quietly, "His name is Duanhun!"

White Shadow took You Ye and rose into the sky, darting toward the depths of the night. White Shadow said, "You fool, his name is not Duanhun! One day, he will understand that to accomplish a great undertaking, one needs more than acting against one's heart. One must also be cold and ruthless, even willing to pay any price... You Ye, are you prepared?"

You Ye fell silent. After a long while, she nodded. "I will only treat all of this as a game..." Zhao Lei was already dead; only You Ye remained. Zhao Lei had lived too earnestly, and so she had been too bitter, too unfortunate. But You Ye would treat life as a play and play through the mortal world. Her heart no longer cared for anything, only because this unfair world had already wronged Zhao Lei once. This time, You Ye would wrong the entire world.

The night was dark. Ning Chang'an moved farther and farther away through the darkness. The cries from Yang Manor carried on the wind and dissolved into the night breeze, faint and indistinct. Yet Ning Chang'an felt his heartbeat growing faster and louder, his thoughts becoming ever more unsettled. He could not understand the meaning of White Shadow killing so many people. Did the innocent deserve to die?! He only knew that he could not bear to look upon such bloody cruelty. He thought of the beautiful wish White Shadow had spoken of, yet he still did not understand what killing those innocent people had to do with that wish. A tragedy was still a tragedy. There were too many things he could not understand, and he was filled with doubts about everything unexpected.

Whenever too many things he could not understand tangled in his heart, impossible to resolve, discard, or calm for the moment, he always wanted to drink.

If he got drunk once and slept, perhaps upon waking there would be a new turn of events. Perhaps everything would suddenly become clear.

Ning Chang'an desperately wanted a drink right now.

He moved stealthily along the rooftops, watching squad after squad of Yongan Prefecture soldiers and yamen runners rush toward Yang Manor in tight formation. At the rear of the procession was a round-topped sedan chair. Four strong men guarded it at the front, back, left, and right, while the four bearers moved as swiftly as if flying. Yet the height and length of their strides were extraordinarily uniform, keeping the entire sedan chair free from jolts or swaying, remarkably steady.