The Gamble

Tu Pianpian felt restless inside, convinced that the whole night had gone terribly wrong. Every Westerner she had encountered was some strange lunatic, and her own disciples had been useless. Dozens of them had laid the trap, yet their greatest enemy had still slipped in unnoticed.

"Deng the Midget, stop playing tricks. Come out already."

The man's voice had clearly rung across the entire camp just now, yet he had crawled out from the topmost tent—the very one closest to Tu Pianpian, where Gu Shenwei had once hidden temporarily.

Gu Shenwei's heart jolted. He had never expected an expert to be hiding behind him.

"I am Deng Yuanlei, a seventeenth-generation disciple of the Qingcheng Sect."

Deng Yuanlei was of average height, though he was half a head taller than Tu Pianpian and hardly deserved to be called a midget. He was around forty. His eyes were not large, his nose was not prominent, his face was not square, and his beard was not thick. Yet his gaze was as sharp as blades fresh from a furnace, its glitter so fierce that it was difficult to meet his eyes.

The Qingcheng Sect. Gu Shenwei knew more trouble had arrived. The Xia Family Three Heroes, who had assisted Shangguan Yun in the Black Mountain; Gu Feng, who specialized in acupoint attacks; Yang Shuying, who wielded twin halberds and twin swords—the deaths of a whole string of Qingcheng disciples had all been connected to the Dragon Army.

"Hey, is the Qingcheng Sect really so impressive? What are you shouting about?" Tu Pianpian raised her crutch and waved it twice. More than forty Kongtong Sect disciples gathered around, some wiping away their disguises while others continued pretending to be old men. "He came from the Western Regions and has never heard of your grand