Chapter 44

A round-topped sedan chair, borne by four men and guarded by four more—this was precisely the procession of Guo Daochong, the Prefect of Yongan Prefecture, whenever he went out.

Ning Chang'an had never met Guo Daochong, the Prefect of Yongan Prefecture, but he had heard many stories about him and knew the man was no simple figure. He instinctively gave the round-topped, somewhat shabby sedan chair a few extra glances. Within a few breaths, the two parties passed each other and had already gone far.

A waft of wine fragrance suddenly drifted over on the wind. Its aroma was rich and mellow, fine and delicate—clearly good wine. Ning Chang'an had only just thought of drinking when he caught the scent, and he could not help taking a deep sniff. He had originally intended to learn about Yang Manor, then investigate Ning Manor, but he had no choice but to stop.

He stopped only because the wine smelled too good.

Ahead, atop the dragon kiss ornament on the roof ridge, a slender figure stood quietly. Under the night sky, the figure was not entirely clear, yet its outline was exceptionally distinct. The figure had its back to Ning Chang'an and faced the wind, robes fluttering.

"Tonight, clouds brim with sorrow. Who knows when the moon will wax or wane? Drink only muddled wine, and dream one's way into the next life."

With a long, low sigh that sounded almost like a soft chant, the figure abruptly turned around.

Ning Chang'an froze, astonishment on his face. For a moment, he was speechless and merely stood there in silence.

"Didn't you want to drink?"

A low, slightly hoarse voice rang out.

Ning Chang'an looked at the wine jar in that person's hands, its clay seal already slapped open. Strands of wine fragrance rode the wind into his nostrils, yet his heart inexplicably tightened. He still could not utter a single word. Ning Chang'an said nothing, and neither did that person. She merely gazed at him and waited quietly. She seemed certain Ning Chang'an would eventually speak, with no trace of impatience.

"This isn't your original voice!"

After a long while, Ning Chang'an did indeed speak, though his tone carried a strangely awkward note.

"Are you still the original you?"

She countered. Her voice remained low and hoarse, yet it was vividly alive.

Ning Chang'an blinked his eyes, the only part of him exposed beyond his night clothes. Right now, he was Soulbreaker, a Guest Official of Master's Tower who killed for certain purposes. Put plainly, he was an assassin. Soulbreaker was naturally not Ning Chang'an. Ning Chang'an would not kill indiscriminately. Even if heaven itself offered him immense benefits, he would not kill someone entirely unrelated to him. But Soulbreaker would. At this moment, clad in black and with his face concealed, he was no longer his former self.

"Your name is Lin Ying!"

Ning Chang'an said.

Lin Ying was a woman, a woman Ning Chang'an had met by chance. He had heard her scream, and it remained exceptionally clear in his memory, so he knew her voice was not hoarse at all. Not only was it not hoarse, it was crisp and clear.

Clad in a fitted purple robe, Lin Ying gracefully sat down atop the dragon kiss ornament. Her long, slender brows lifted slightly as her large eyes fixed on Ning Chang'an. She seemed to ask instinctively, "How did you know?"

Ning Chang'an could not understand the look in her eyes.

Ning Chang'an smiled awkwardly. A dry sound came from his throat as he did not know where to begin. Those memories, beginning with their first encounter, had all been exceedingly awkward. He could not be as unburdened as Lin Ying.

Lin Ying raised her head on her own, cradling the wine jar in both hands as she slowly drank, yet her eyes never left Ning Chang'an.

Ning Chang'an mumbled, "I asked around."

Lin Ying looked even more curious. "Where did you ask around?" Her fingers were long and fair. As she tipped her head back to drink, her long hair fell behind her, swaying in the wind like a curtain of black waterfall. Her throat moved slightly as she swallowed, creating a breathtakingly beautiful sight.

Ning Chang'an could hardly say that he had followed her and heard it all along the way! He knew he absolutely could not say that. Besides, he was curious how Lin Ying had recognized him. Never mind that he had become so fat he practically looked like a different person from before; he was also dressed head to toe in night clothes, his face entirely hidden. Unless someone knew him inside and out, recognizing him would have been impossible. Ning Chang'an changed the subject. "How did you recognize me?"

Lin Ying held the wine jar on her knees and said blandly, "There are not many people in this world who can make me both angry and hateful. And I was born with a certain ability—I am very sensitive to things I dislike. If I hate someone, I can recognize him even if he turns to ash. Unfortunately for you, you are one of those people. The moment I saw you, I became angry, and hatred rose in my heart. So I knew you were Ning Family's Chang'an. What do you think of that reason?" Yet neither her tone nor expression resembled anger or hatred. She was always still as placid water, with an ethereal air about her.

Ning Chang'an shook his head. "I don't know. I only know that I should apologize to you and make amends!"

Lin Ying's eyes brightened slightly. "Apologize? Make amends? How will you apologize? How will you make amends? What will you use to apologize and make amends?"

Ning Chang'an looked solemn. "Whatever you wish!"

Lin Ying slowly rose to her feet. "You'll let me make any demand?" A rare smile appeared on her face.

Ning Chang'an nodded. Seeing that fleeting smile on Lin Ying's face, he could not help smiling as well. That faint, almost imperceptible smile stirred certain memories within him. Those memories lay in the depths of his heart. He could not forget them; with time, they only grew fresher. Whenever he recalled those years of roaming the martial world, that memory was always so vivid and singular in his heart.

Tracing it back, Lin Ying should have been the most stunning romantic encounter Ning Chang'an had experienced after descending the mountain. Perhaps he would never again have such an experience in his lifetime.

He still remembered that it had been the third month after he descended the mountain. Back then, he had just entered the martial world, his blood burning hot, determined to make a name for himself and carve out a patch of sky that belonged to him. He had suffered enough on Dragon Green Mountain and endured enough of Thunder God Yang Qingling's lessons. He had practically risked his life to get down the mountain; without achieving something, he would have had no face to return. Thus, he had been full of drive. In Ning Chang'an's childhood memories, ten days out of every month were spent training bitterly—hardening his external arts and gathering qi through Internal Energy Cultivation, regardless of cold or heat, without fail every day. Another ten days were spent sparring with Yang Qingling. Having an elder of formidable martial skill to spar with and guide one's cultivation should have been an incomparable blessing. In the martial world, countless people hit bottlenecks and could not improve their skills even an inch, desperately seeking a master's guidance yet unable to find it. But during Ning Chang'an's childhood, he had not felt even the slightest happiness. To be precise, Yang Qingling was not teaching him, but taming him. No matter what he wished to teach Ning Chang'an or what insight he wanted him to gain, he never spoke. He only let his fists and feet do the talking, beating Ning Chang'an until understanding dawned on him. Whenever he did open his mouth, it was always with thunderous roars and scoldings. Every time Yang Qingling struck, his strength was immense and his control viciously precise. He would not take Ning Chang'an's life, but he could often make him suffer unbearably, as if he had fallen into a refining hell. Therefore, during the remaining ten days of each month, Ning Chang'an was usually occupied with all kinds of healing medicines, tonics, tiger-bone wine, bear gall, and the like. Most of his reading and writing were completed during that time. In any case, Yang Qingling would not allow Ning Chang'an even half a moment of leisure. Fortunately, Yu Fu had been by his side all along, keeping him company and caring for him. That was how he had endured.

The time he descended the mountain, Yang Qingling had beaten him half to death merely because he said he wanted to marry Yu Fu. In truth, the two had already privately pledged themselves to each other and secretly sworn their vows. The moment Yang Qingling heard, he flew into a rage and immediately attacked. In a fit of anger, Ning Chang'an threw down the words, "Within three to five years, I'll come back and kill my way through," then leaped off Dragon Green Mountain with wounds all over his body. He enraged Yang Qingling so badly that the man blew his beard and glared, roaring that if Ning Chang'an dared return, he would tear him into eight pieces alive.

Everything after descending the mountain was not as simple as Ning Chang'an had imagined. His life showed no improvement; nothing went his way. After all, only a handful could ride the cresting waves of the martial world. Back then, he could only drift and sink amid its vast currents.

The martial world was not the martial world he had imagined atop the mountain. He felt its incomparable cruelty and indifference, its every corner filled with darkness and oppression. He began drifting aimlessly with the current, joined an assassin organization called Black Crow, and began killing for money. At the time, he believed that to become a martial-world magnate riding high on the wind, one needed not only formidable martial skill, but also abundant wealth and influence. Yet he had nothing then, so he killed for money. Even now, he could not understand why the martial world had so many dealings where money bought lives, or why it brimmed with grudges of life and death. He only knew that during that nearly one-year span, he killed someone almost every three days.

The last time, he lost. He lost miserably, beaten half to death by a man named Wang Lü. That time, he failed his mission and fled wildly into the deep mountains, finally managing to keep his life.

He hid in a tree, tying his exhausted, agonized body—on the verge of passing out—among the dense branches. Soundlessly, he endured the pain and narrowly evaded Wang Lü's pursuit. His wounds were severe, and he gradually lost consciousness. When he suddenly woke, he had no idea how much time had passed. Looking around, he saw Lin Ying.

What he saw then was Lin Ying, a bathing fairy, without a stitch of clothing on her.

But his whole body was tied to the tree, making escape impossible. For the moment, he did not dare move and merely watched from the shadows. In truth, with peerless beauty before him, his heart had already been hooked. He had not wanted to leave in the first place.

The tree stood close beside a mountain stream, its branches lush and thick with foliage. Ning Chang'an hid in it without revealing the slightest trace, unwilling and unable to expose even a wisp of evidence. Beneath the tree was a small patch of grass, and before it lay a clear pool. Stream water flowed down from the mountain ravine and gathered there, making the pool crystal clear to its very bottom.

Deep in the empty mountains, there was not a soul in sight.

Ning Chang'an had thought that after escaping Wang Lü's pursuit, nothing else would go wrong. But reality often caught people unawares, presenting itself before them in a way so stunning it was shocking. When he opened his eyes after fainting, he saw Lin Ying bathing languidly in the pool. Like a nimble fish, she swam freely through the water, her body stretched out and utterly relaxed.

She surely did not know that a pair of eyes in the darkness was admiring her, watching her fair, jade-smooth naked body.

Lin Ying gently cupped the cool pool water in her hands and drenched her loosened hair. The water reached her waist. Ning Chang'an could even see droplets slide over her ethereal, delicate face, down her slender neck, gathering between her collarbones and throat before flowing lower, gliding over her full breasts and then down her flat, firm abdomen into the pool. Under the sunlight, the sheen of water on her body flashed with seven-colored arcs of light. She was beautiful, filled with the youthful allure of a maiden.