The Vanished Woman

A little pavilion, one night listening to wind and rain.

There was wind but no rain in Dragon City that night, and it made Wang Xian think of Tang Shisan's love for Meng Xiaolou.

Wang Xian really couldn't understand it. With Meng Xiaolou's hulking build and rough looks, how had he ended up with a name that would make any woman fall for him at first hearing?

You were an assassin, for crying out loud.

And then there was Ximen Tinghua, a swordsman from beyond the passes who just happened to have a woman's face.

If Tang Qingyu had so much as glanced at that fellow, she would probably have forgotten her fiancé, who had died beneath the swords of the Three Heroes of the Desert.

Even if Tang Shisan exposed the plot behind that golden sword one day, who could possibly know the secret of the sword?

At least, in that world, probably not even his own master, the Old Daoist, could have figured it out.

If he ever reunited with Tang Qingyu, he could simply say it was heaven's will.

Heaven's will was iron. He had merely given a treasured sword to a hero.

On this windy, rainless day, Wang Xian was bored out of his mind, so he brought out Long Qingmei's ancient zither.

He set it beneath the eaves and stared blankly at its single moon-string. As his fingers plucked it in a chaotic flurry, a wisp of Sword Qi suddenly shot out!

"Zheng, zheng, zheng!"

What flowed from his fingers was not a clear spring trickling over stone, but the clanging sound of blades and swords.

Even now, he still hadn't fully understood the Heavenly Demon Soul-Suppressing Song Old Zhang had taught him.

Like a silver vase suddenly shattered, its contents bursting forth,

like iron