No Wuqiu

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Xiahou Xuan waited for a while inside Liu Wuqiu's house. Because he had been poisoned, he could do nothing and could only watch Huangfu Xiong lying unconscious beside him like a dead pig. He unhappily bared his teeth.

If he weren't poisoned right now, he really wanted to beat him to death.

He was the one suffering in fear and trepidation, while this fellow slept more comfortably than anyone.

Just then, a rustling sound came from outside. Xiahou Xuan's expression turned slightly stern, and then a low voice spoke: "It's me, Wang Anfeng."

With a soft creak, the wooden door was carefully pushed open. Wang Anfeng, who had only just left, slipped inside. Xiahou Xuan frowned slightly and asked in a low voice, "Why did you come back? Is the guard outside that tight?"

"No..."

Wang Anfeng shook his head and explained to Xiahou Xuan what he had just been thinking. The latter's eyes lit up slightly as he said in a low voice, "Bring me that wine!"

Wang Anfeng opened the jar of wine. Xiahou Xuan struggled to sit up, dipped a finger into the wine, and tasted it. His eyes immediately brightened as he said:

"There's no mistake. It's this!"

Wang Anfeng also relaxed slightly at his words. His back was already covered in cold sweat. Having resolved this matter, he could not help growing intensely curious about Liu Wuqiu.

He had left behind the antidote, clearly unwilling to truly harm those scions of noble families. Yet the location of the antidote had been written in code. Whom did he not want to know? It could only be that he did not want the people from the Four Symbols Pavilion to know.

In other words, there should be many people from the Four Symbols Pavilion around him.

A man seeking revenge would inevitably hide himself well.

Then was the "Liu Wuqiu" he had seen—the cowardly, lustful, power-hungry man—the real Liu Wuqiu?

For some reason, he suddenly thought of his first opponent, the one who had fought purely with external Fist techniques and concealed the fact that he was also skilled in Lightness Skill in order to achieve a killing blow in the third match. He had used two bouts to tell a story, making Wang Anfeng believe that he did not know Lightness Skill.

The rumors that Liu Wuqiu was a coward and a lustful, money-grubbing lecher had persisted for sixty or seventy years.

Then... had this been a game he had laid out over sixty years?

Wang Anfeng was suddenly struck by terror. His scalp prickled. That old man who had seemed so simple—so simple that nothing could be simpler—now appeared shrouded in shadows, utterly impossible to see through. Beside him, Xiahou Xuan swallowed the medicinal wine, coughed twice, and said:

"You saw it too?"

Young Master Xiahou's expression was complicated as he said softly, "How could someone who had lived for eighty years not understand a principle even we can grasp?"

"He probably wants others to believe that he doesn't understand."

"A Go board has nineteen lines running each way, for a total of three hundred and sixty-one points, with the nine-star points. At this moment, you and I are at the center of this game—the tengen. Unfortunately, you and I aren't the players. We're merely bait."

Wang Anfeng fell silent, his palm resting on the window.

Liu Wuqiu wore an extravagantly luxurious robe and stood respectfully beside another middle-aged man. The night wind was somewhat cold, blowing Liu Wuqiu's pale hair into disarray. He looked down at the pitch-black world below, which resembled the winter of his fifteenth year.

His clothes back then had been inferior to what he wore now, but they had been thick. Even so, he had still been cold—the sort of cold that seeped out from the depths of his heart. That was why he had always worn far more clothes than ordinary people.

"No Wuqiu, you botched things this time."

The black-robed man spoke, his voice booming like a bell and shattering Liu Wuqiu's distant memories.

"The last time the Pavilion Master ordered us to act was sixty-eight years ago. At that time, the world had yet to settle, and you had not yet entered the pavilion. Our pavilion had been lying in wait for a long time, yet during this operation, you made such a grave blunder."

"It was precisely because descendants of the Xiahou and Huangfu families were present that I personally appeared and brought out that treasure. Yet you actually let them get away."

The black-robed man was not older than Liu Wuqiu. In the martial world, older people were often respected—not because of their martial strength, for no matter how formidable one's cultivation was, there would come a day when it dissipated, but because the wisdom gained through years of slaughter could rival the finest martial manuals. Yet when he spoke to Liu Wuqiu, his words were filled with disdain and rebuke.

Even he looked down on someone so greedy for life, so fearful of death, and so covetous of wealth.

Liu Wuqiu bent his back and put on a sycophantic smile, his brows bunching together as he fawned, "Altar Master, this—this can't be blamed on this old man. He... the Xiahou secret treasure... the high-grade Qi-Protecting Armor..." The night wind howled over the mountain peak. Liu Wuqiu's face was cringing and stammering, making him impossible to hear clearly. The black-robed man first caught the words "Xiahou secret treasure," then "high-grade Qi-Protecting Armor," and greed rose in his heart. He subconsciously moved closer and frowned. "Liu Wuqiu, are you so old that you can no longer speak clearly?! Speak louder!"

Liu Wuqiu shuddered and raised his voice slightly. "On that Young Master Xiahou's body, the Xiahou Noble Family's protective treasure..."

His speech remained halting and stammering. The black-robed man grew impatient, grabbed Liu Wuqiu, and suddenly a streak of cold light flashed. A sharp pain shot through his wrist. With a tiger's roar, he flung the old man away, but it was already too late. Liu Wuqiu swung his arm in midair, streaks of cold light bursting forth. In an instant, brilliant starbursts filled the air, and in the blink of an eye they pierced thirty-seven major acupoints throughout the black-robed man's body. Blood gushed like a broken dam. The Altar Master fell stiffly without even managing to scream.

Liu Wuqiu had already lunged forward and ripped at the secret treasure. Its outer shell shattered instantly, but inside was nothing more than an ordinary jade talisman. The old man's expression froze for a moment, yet he did not change much. A voice came from beyond the heavens, long and tranquil:

"You've had it hard, serving as a dog for more than sixty years. I thought you had already forgotten, but I had someone cast a divination, so I kept a trick in reserve."

"Looks like even after more than sixty years, you still couldn't let go."

As the voice rang out, an old man in blue robes and a loose sash stepped through the air. Though he was an old man, his face was ruddy and utterly without a wrinkle. His white hair from previous years had already turned black. This was a characteristic of the Upper Three Ranks' Profound Connection Realm—one could not enter it without extraordinary talent and unyielding will. He turned his right hand over, revealing a blood-colored Eight Trigrams disc covered in ominous energy that made one feel nauseated merely to smell it.

As Liu Wuqiu looked at him, his expression gradually changed. The back that had been bent for sixty-eight years slowly straightened until it was ramrod stiff. His white hair danced in the wind. Gazing at the blood-colored Eight Trigrams, he said softly:

"It's a pity I still couldn't hide it from you."

"I couldn't break this piece of jade."

The old man sighed deeply. "You already fooled me. I never imagined that someone could act out an entire lifetime, until everyone of his generation had died, and still remember the enmity of his youth. It was only because my mind was restless that I still asked someone to cast a divination."

"An ordinary person's seventy years of cultivation would barely allow him to enter the Middle Three Ranks. You have been stuck here for twelve years, while I have already entered the Upper Three Ranks. You are no match for me. If you return, then for the sake of your having been honest all your life, I can forget what happened today."

Liu Wuqiu shook his head. His right hand drew out a long sword, its edge piercingly sharp. He lightly touched the sword tip to the ground and said softly:

"But I can't forget."

Of all the friends from those days, I alone remain.

That foolish boy who had been too clumsy even to block a sword for someone else now had a head of white hair. But how could he forget the way that girl had looked when they first met in their youth?

Liu Wuqiu stepped forward, long sword in hand, and began his final charge. After entering the Upper Three Ranks, the difference in cultivation meant ordinary hidden weapons were useless. The Daoists called such people True Men, the Confucians called them Great Scholars, and the strategists called them Great Generals. Martial artists outside the Three Teachings could already establish their own schools.

He had struggled through this martial world for seventy or eighty years. How could he not know that the victor had already been decided?

But for that Liu Wuqiu who had been unable even to practice Fist techniques properly, that foolish and inflexible Liu Wuqiu, there was no other choice left.

Having accepted your promise, I shall never forget it in this life.

After a full sixty-eight years, he had finally seen this person again—this piece of jade.

The dream that had once seemed impossibly distant was waiting before him to be fulfilled.

The old man in blue robes let out a soft sigh. With a sweep of his sleeve, sword qi filled the empty sky, as though the Celestial Emperor had opened his armory. The sword qi, pure to the limit and sharp to the extreme, spread across the heavens like stars on a Go board. Beneath that cold, clear radiance, Liu Wuqiu recalled the dazzling starry sky he had seen back then.

Beneath that starry sky, he had buried Mei Chuxue, settled the parents of Sister Qingli, placed all his silver on Elder Brother Wang's wooden table, and watered the flowers that a beautiful young girl loved. Then he had bowed and scraped, reined in his proud spirit, and lived like a dog for sixty-eight years. Draped in clothes heavy with the stink of copper, he had sat at the head of Willow Catkin Villa. Whenever he missed her... he would look below, at Wangxian County, where she had once lived.

Sixty-eight years. It was time to return...

"Hahahaha!!"

Liu Wuqiu, long sword in hand, laughed aloud as he charged toward his opponent, who could be called a Grandmaster of his generation. He advanced fearlessly. Amid the incomparably sharp sound of blades tearing through the air, streams of sword qi continuously ripped through his body. Blood flowed freely, but compared with the exhilaration of removing his mask and facing his enemy openly, this pain was utterly insignificant!

Against such an expert, before absolute strength, every scheme and stratagem was useless. He held the only sword he could still use at an angle and charged forward step by step. Suddenly, his body tilted—his right leg's tendons had already been severed. Yet he seemed not to notice, continuing to stagger forward until he reached the blue-robed figure. With the long sword in hand, he suddenly thrust forward.

But the sword of the man opposite him was faster. A sharp stream of sword qi shot from the old man's right-hand sword fingers and pierced Liu Wuqiu's abdomen. Yet Liu Wuqiu seemed completely unaware. He raised his left arm, abruptly gathering the force within his body. A series of explosive sounds like spring ice shattering rang out. The sword qi burrowed even deeper into his body, but he took advantage of the momentum to slam a fist into the old man's abdomen. His inner force exploded, shattering the blood-jade Eight Trigrams into pieces.

Amid the Grandmaster's furious and shocked roar, the corners of Liu Wuqiu's mouth lifted slightly with the pride of a youth. His vision blurred, yet he seemed to see once more that bright and magnanimous girl from long ago.

"Liu boy, what will you do if I die here...?"

"I'll avenge you."

"Pfft, you're so silly. What revenge could you take...? You should marry a good girl and live well..."

The girl's voice gradually weakened. In his arms, she slowly closed her eyes, blood flowing over her body and soaking through her white dress. Mei Chuxue, Mei Ru Xue. When they had first met, he had been the most inconspicuous, most inept, foolish boy around. On a misty, rainy riverbank, the girl had lifted the corners of her lips and held her umbrella over his head.

He had never imagined that a single glance would fill his entire life.

The blood-jade Eight Trigrams shattered into powder. The clothes on Liu Wuqiu's right arm were completely torn apart, and the sword qi had pierced through his body, leaving wounds everywhere. Yet his brows were fierce as a tiger's, and he laughed aloud.

Having accepted your promise, I shall never forget it in this life. Sixty-eight years of spring and autumn, with nothing sought but revenge—that was Liu Wuqiu.

With sword in hand, he laughed beneath the open sky and wandered the four corners of the world. His heroic heart swallowed the universe, his chivalrous bones endured wind and frost. The world called him a wandering knight. His long sword was as dear as life, while his life was lighter than a feather!

Moonlight fell into the courtyard. All sounds had fallen silent, yet the roar of a fierce tiger suddenly rose and echoed between heaven and earth.

Sixty-eight years after Mei Chuxue's death, that most foolish and stupid boy from back then—the white-haired old man who had lost his entire life—stood atop this lonely peak, covered in a hundred wounds, and entered the Upper Three Ranks with a single punch.