One-Line Sky

The next day.

The wheels crunched over the gravel, the grating sound making one's teeth ache.

The canyon known as One-Line Sky was exactly as its name suggested. Sheer cliffs rose on either side, as if carved by knives and axes, stretching straight into the clouds. Only a narrow passage remained between them, and when one looked up, the sky was reduced to a long, thin gray-white crack.

The biting mountain wind was squeezed through the canyon, turning into a mournful whistle that howled in everyone's ears.

Chen Ping had covered half his face with a gray cloth, leaving only a pair of seemingly dull but actually wary eyes exposed. Hunched over, he trudged at the very back of the convoy.

He wore an oversized, ill-fitting old jacket and carried a wooden staff, looking like some odd-job laborer brought along to make up the numbers.

This kind of terrain was a natural burial ground.

If he pushed a few rocks down from above, everyone below would be trapped like turtles in a jar.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when a muffled rumble suddenly came from overhead, like dull thunder rolling across the ridgeline.

"Rockslide! It's an ambush!"

An escort ahead shouted hoarsely. A moment later came the crash of boulders hitting the ground and the terrified whinnying of horses.

Dust billowed everywhere, and gravel flew in all directions. The orderly convoy instantly descended into chaos.

"Hold the line! All of you, hold the damn line! If we lose the cargo, we'll all be left begging for scraps!"

A shrill voice cursed from nearby.

Chen Ping glanced over and saw his maternal uncle, Liu Sanjin, who often bragged about how brave he had been in his youth, dart beneath a flatbed cart loaded with hay with astonishing agility.

He curled into a ball, exposing only his big, terrified face as he waved his tobacco pipe and ordered a few young runners to charge forward.

"You useless fools! Don't let the bandits near the cart carrying the medicinal herbs!"

Chen Ping's mouth twitched slightly, but he quietly retreated half a step into the shadow of the cliff.

Amid the dust, more than a dozen figures slid down ropes from the sheer cliffs, each gripping a sharp blade, their faces twisted into vicious grimaces.

Their leader was a bald brute, bare-chested, with bulging muscles. He held a Nine-Ring Ghost Head Blade, the iron rings on its back clattering noisily.

"Their numbers are tough! Get in there together! We only want the cart of herbs!"

With a thunderous shout, the bald brute pushed off the ground and lunged toward the middle of the convoy like a ferocious tiger descending the mountain. His target was a carriage tightly wrapped in oilcloth.

Two escorts guarding the carriage charged to meet him, raising their broadswords.

"Clang! Clang!"

Two sharp clashes of metal rang out.

The Ghost Head Blade struck with overwhelming force, snapping the escorts' broadswords in two. The bald brute flicked his wrist, and the blade traced a ghastly pale arc.

Clutching their spurting throats, the two escorts crumpled to the ground.

"Hahahaha! Bunch of weaklings!"

The bald brute roared with laughter, strode over the bodies, and raised his Ghost Head Blade high, ready to hack through the chain on the cart carrying the herbs.

The runners nearby had already been terrified out of their wits by the brutal scene. They all backed away, and no one dared face his blade.

Chen Ping narrowed his eyes.

If they lost the medicinal herbs, the whole escort job would be for nothing. The meager pay was secondary; more importantly, he'd lose the little "reputation" he had just built up at the escort agency, making it much harder to take private jobs in the future.

Besides, the bald brute was a trained fighter, his qi and blood vigorous, but his steps were unsteady. He had just overexerted himself.

Fortune favors the bold.

Chen Ping silently gathered his qi, and Longevity of Pine and Crane began to circulate within him.

In an instant, a warm current coursed through all his limbs and bones, making his somewhat stiff body feel incredibly light.

Unlike some hotheaded fool, he took advantage of the panicking crowd and swirling dust for cover. Like a gray rat skimming along the ground, he quietly crept around to the bald brute's rear flank.

At that moment, the bald brute was completely focused on the chain in front of him. His Ghost Head Blade came crashing down.

"Clang!"

The chain snapped.

Right then, his old strength was spent and his new strength had yet to rise.

Now!

Chen Ping's cloth shoes silently ground over the gravel. He sprang forward without a single flashy move, his right palm instantly swelling with blood until it turned dark green-black. Trailing a muffled gust of wind, it struck toward the bald brute's back.

Shattered Stone Palm, perfected.

This palm strike sought no outward wound, only penetrating force.

The bald brute sensed the murderous intent behind him. The hairs on his back stood on end, and he instinctively tried to turn and swing his blade.

Too late.

"Thud."

A deeply muffled sound rang out, like a heavy hammer striking worn leather.

Then came a crisp crack.

The bald brute's massive body stiffened. His eyes bulged as he let out a brief, choked "khh." A mouthful of black blood mixed with bits of his organs sprayed out, splattering the medicinal herb crate in front of him.

His spine had snapped.

His heart had been crushed.

Having landed his strike, Chen Ping didn't even look back. He tapped the ground with his toes and swiftly retreated, using the recoil to propel himself away.

As he withdrew, his left hand slipped into the bald brute's robes.

A thin booklet fell into his hand. Its rough texture steadied his nerves.

He casually stuffed it into his robes, then crouched low and melted into the panicked crowd, once again becoming that timid odd-job laborer.

"The boss is dead!"

"They're too tough! Time to get out of here!"

Seeing their leader suddenly fall, spurting blood for no apparent reason, the remaining bandits were scared out of their wits. With a shout, they abandoned several bodies and scrambled back up the ropes to the mountain.

The canyon fell quiet once more. Only the groans of the wounded and the snorting of the horses remained.

The escorts looked at one another, their eyes full of suspicion as they stared at the bald brute lying motionless on the ground.

"W-who was the expert who did this?"

An old escort stepped forward to examine the body and sucked in a sharp breath.

"His spine is shattered and his heart meridian crushed, yet there's only a faint palm print on the surface. This is the work of an internal martial arts expert!"

The others speculated among themselves, their gazes sweeping back and forth over one another, but no one suspected the young man crouching in the corner, "trembling" as he wiped the dust from his face with his sleeve.

"Oh, dear heavens, that scared the life out of me!"

Only then did Liu Sanjin crawl out from under the cart. He brushed the hay from his clothes and edged over to the body, his face still pale with fear. Then he put on his usual arrogant expression.

"See? That's what you get! You dare rob the Weiyuan Escort Agency without even asking around first?"

He kicked the body and greedily searched it, but found only a few taels of loose silver. He cursed under his breath.

"Poor bastard! And he called himself the boss? He had even less money than me!"

Chen Ping lowered his head, lightly rubbing the edge of the booklet hidden in his sleeve. The corner of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

Light Body Movement Technique.

Now that was something truly valuable.

With this movement technique combined with his Longevity of Pine and Crane, he'd have wings on his back, whether he was fleeing for his life or sneaking in somewhere.

By the time they returned to Qinghe County, dusk was near.

The setting sun was red as blood, staining the city walls a fiery crimson.

When the escort agency divided up the pay, Chen Ping received only the basic reward of five hundred copper coins. He was merely there to "make up the numbers," and had "performed nothing special" the entire way.

Liu Sanjin even patted him on the shoulder with feigned sincerity.

"Brother Ping, don't complain that it's too little. This trip was a chance for you to broaden your horizons. Look at your uncle here. I was calm and composed while directing everyone just now, and that's what saved all our lives."

Chen Ping put on an "admiring" expression, bobbed and bowed, accepted the coins, and thanked him profusely before leaving.

After leaving the escort agency, Chen Ping found an empty alley, tucked the Light Body Movement Technique securely against his body, and bought two flatbreads. Only then did he head toward Lin Manor.

As soon as he neared the street where Lin Manor stood, Chen Ping sensed that something was wrong.

At this time of day, a few idlers usually squatted by the side gate chatting, or a vendor would be calling out to sell his wares.

But today, the entire street was silent.

The main gate of Lin Manor was shut tight, and even the side gate was firmly closed. The lanterns hanging outside were lit, but their glow was deathly pale.

"Something happened?"

Chen Ping's heart sank. He lightened his steps, approached the side entrance, and knocked softly three times.

"Who is it?" Old Zhang, the gatekeeper, sounded tense.

"Uncle Zhang, it's me, Chen Ping."

The gate creaked open a crack. Old Zhang peered out and anxiously checked both ways before yanking Chen Ping inside and quickly bolting the door.

"Brother Ping, you're finally back. The atmosphere in the manor is strange today. First Madam was furious, and I heard that some distinguished guests came from the Capital City. The master and the Head Steward are tending to them very carefully."

Distinguished guests from the Capital City?

Chen Ping furrowed his brow, thanked Old Zhang, and hurried toward the servants' quarters.

The waters at Lin Manor seemed to be growing murkier by the day.

Back in the small courtyard where he lived alone, Chen Ping pushed open the door.

The room was pitch-black, with only moonlight streaming through the window and spilling across the floor.

Chen Ping stood in the doorway without lighting a lamp. First, he gave a slight twitch of his nose.

There was also... the earthy smell of mud scraped from the soles of shoes.

Someone had been inside.

Chen Ping's heartbeat skipped. Every muscle in his body tensed, and his right hand instinctively reached for the dagger at his waist.

Using the moonlight, he scanned the room.

The table and chairs were arranged neatly. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place.

But before he left, he had deliberately wedged a strand of hair by the foot of the bed.

Chen Ping walked to the bed and crouched down.

The strand of hair was gone.

Not only that, the bed had been smoothed out, but the pillow was half an inch away from where he usually placed it.

Someone had searched his bed, and might even have checked the hidden compartment beneath it.

Fortunately, he kept all his belongings with him. Both his Shattered Stone Palm manual and the newly acquired Light Body Movement Technique were in his robes. The hidden compartment held only a few old changes of clothes.

But who was it?

Had they discovered the truth behind Wang Meng's disappearance?

Or were they just ordinary thieves?

Or had the so-called "distinguished guest from the Capital City" brought some unexpected trouble?

Chen Ping slowly straightened up. In the darkness, his eyes were cold as a blade, and all the relief he'd felt at returning to safety vanished without a trace.

It seemed he wouldn't be able to stay at Lin Manor much longer.