Bookstore

At daybreak, Wang Xuan emerged from his hiding place. The moment he reached the street, he paused, one brow lifting slightly.

Could this still be called Jingzhou City?

The main streets, once so crowded that not even water could pass through, were now so empty that he could hear his own footsteps. The doors of the shops on both sides were tightly shut, a thin layer of dust coating their bronze rings. The faded wine banner outside an inn creaked and swayed limply in the wind. Rather than a signboard, it looked more like a scrap of cloth someone had casually tossed onto a pole.

Corpses lay scattered everywhere, blood streaming from their seven orifices and their skin deathly pale. They were likely the Players who had suddenly died last night. No one had dealt with the bodies, and no one dared to. The common folk probably thought it was some sort of plague and avoided them at all costs.

It was rather interesting. Yesterday, Martial Artists had been jostling shoulder to shoulder on these streets, their eyes gleaming green with greed for the treasure, spittle flying as they plotted how to seize the Secret of the Linked Cities. Today, they had all vanished.

Wang Xuan stepped over a curled-up corpse, his sole scraping across the bloodstains on the stone pavement with a faint rustling sound as he crossed toward the other side of the street.

Behind the windows and within the cracks of doors, many eyes were hidden.

Those gazes pricked at his back—terror, fear, and curiosity buried deep within them. Like startled rats, they only dared to poke their heads out in secret, even breathing with extreme caution. Yet not one person dared emerge.

Wang Xuan had no interest in these ordinary commoners. Without slowing, he continued straight ahead.

For Tianning Temple's Side Quest, he was still missing the last item. He already had the Secret of the Linked Cities; all he lacked was a copy of Selected Tang Poetry. Only by possessing these two key "items" could he unlock the treasure.

Selected Tang Poetry was, frankly, just an ordinary book. He could find one by casually browsing any bookstore. But in the current Jingzhou City, it had become something rare.

He crossed two streets. Forget an open bookstore—he did not even encounter a living person drawing breath.

Wang Xuan rubbed the Blood Blade at his waist and pondered. If it came down to it, he would find a bookstore, kick the door down, take the book, and leave. No one in this city would dare come out and stop him anyway.

Just then, a dragging sound suddenly came from the street corner ahead.

He stopped and looked over.

About thirty zhang away, two middle-aged men in coarse work clothes were moving corpses. One had square features and a sharp jaw, while the other was thinner, with a somewhat long face and high cheekbones. They worked efficiently. One dragged a corpse by the arms, the other by the legs, hauling them to the roadside and piling them up like they were clearing rubbish from their own doorstep.

And on the patch of ground they had cleared stood a bookstore.

The bookstore door was open.

A moderately built, broad-shouldered man with dark skin stood at the entrance. His face was gloomy as he slowly wiped the door panels with a gray rag in hand, looking quite leisurely.

Wang Xuan stared in that direction for several seconds, and a cold smile suddenly curled across his lips.

The entire Jingzhou City was like a dead city. Every household had shut its doors, too frightened even to breathe, trembling inside.

But here, three living men had opened a bookstore in broad daylight to "do business." They had even deliberately cleared every corpse from the entrance, as if sweeping snow away, afraid that someone's path might be blocked.

If they were not waiting for him to come knocking, then what were they doing?

Wang Xuan leaned against the wall at the street corner rather than advancing at once. What were these three planning? A sneak attack, or an ambush? With his current martial prowess and ruthlessness, who else would dare?

"Now this is interesting." Wang Xuan snorted softly, his fingertips resting lightly on the hilt of the Blood Blade. "They know I need Selected Tang Poetry, so they waited here especially for me. Do they take me for an idiot?"

The two middle-aged men moving the corpses were still busy. One bent over to drag a body, his back curled like a shrimp, while the other piled them at the roadside. Their movements were crude, and they looked no different from ordinary laborers.

But Wang Xuan could see clearly that although their hands were rough, their knuckles were unusually thick. They had clearly practiced martial arts and were merely concealing it deliberately.

Then there was the man wiping the door. He had been at it for ages, yet the door had not become any cleaner. Instead, it had only grown more smeared. As he wiped, he suddenly looked toward the street corner, and his gaze collided directly with Wang Xuan's.

The man's eyes flickered sharply. As if scalded, he lowered his head at once, nearly dropping the rag in his hand. He pretended to continue wiping the doorframe, but his shoulders had gone rigid, and even his breathing had grown quieter.

Wang Xuan could not help laughing. His voice was not loud, but it carried a trace of mockery. "Your acting is decent enough. Too bad I'm not buying it."

The instant he finished speaking, his fingertip flicked.

The Blood Blade slid half an inch from its sheath. A thin crimson blade aura sprang from the blade and shot forward close to the ground, swift as lightning. It crossed thirty zhang in the blink of an eye, before even the wind could make a sound.

With the Blood Blade Scripture, he had casually unleashed a blade aura like this. If Blood Blade Ancestor had been present, his eyes would probably have bulged out of their sockets.

The two men moving corpses did not react at all. They remained frozen in their dragging postures.

Two soft pops sounded almost at the same time.

Two heads flew into the air in an instant. Blood sprayed high, splashing onto the nearby wall like two bizarre red flowers blooming. The two headless bodies swayed, then collapsed to the ground with a thud, their hands still clutching the corpses' clothing. The sight was particularly absurd.

At the bookstore entrance, the long-haired man's face instantly turned white as paper, utterly drained of color. The rag in his hand fell to the ground with a slap. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open, yet no words came out for a long while. Only hoarse, choking sounds escaped his throat.

"H-how is this possible?!" he finally forced out, his voice trembling beyond recognition. "Killing from a distance?! What kind of monster are you?!"

Wang Xuan said nothing. He remained where he was, spinning the Blood Blade once in his hand. The blood patterns along its surface glimmered with a faint red light.

Qi Changfa stared at Wang Xuan, utterly dumbfounded. He stood rigidly in place as though frozen solid.

In his understanding, the ninth layer of the Post-Heaven Realm was already the pinnacle of the martial world. There were only a handful of people in the entire jianghu who could reach such a realm.

Even his master back then had not possessed such ability—sending blade aura over a distance of several zhang to decapitate someone with a single strike.

Yet the sight before him had completely overturned everything he had believed in his life. He was over forty years old and had practiced martial arts all his life, enduring hardships to reach his current level. He had considered himself something of an expert, yet before this man, he could not even withstand a casually unleashed blade aura?

When Qi Changfa came back to his senses, his first thought was to run.

As long as the green hills remained, there would be no shortage of firewood!

His senior brother Wan Zhenshan and junior brother Yan Daping were already dead. This game had fallen apart long ago. If he stayed, he would be walking straight into death!

His life came first. As for the treasure, he could think of another way later!

He turned and ran into the bookstore, stumbling so badly that he nearly tripped over the threshold. He did not dare look back.

But after only two steps, a faint sound of something tearing through the air came from behind him.

Another crimson blade aura came after him, faster and sharper than the last.

Qi Changfa only felt a chill at his waist, as though a shard of ice had sliced across him. He looked down instinctively, his eyes widening even further. His upper and lower body had already been completely severed. Blood gushed out like a fountain, staining the bluestone slabs before him red as his intestines spilled across the ground. Then the excruciating pain surged into his mind.

Anyone who had been cut in half knew that death did not come immediately afterward. Most such people died from pain or blood loss. Qi Changfa was no exception.

He lay in a pool of blood, bracing himself with both hands as he dragged his upper body forward. His nails clawed into the cracks between the bluestones, leaving several deep scratches. A long, sticky trail of blood stretched across the ground, horrifying to behold.

"Ah!" he howled, his voice twisting out of tune, his face warped like that of a vicious ghost. "Wang Xuan! You'll die a miserable death! Even as a ghost, I won't let you go!"

Wang Xuan stood five zhang away and watched him quietly. He did not move, and there was not the slightest ripple in his eyes, as if he were watching an ant struggle in its death throes.

Qi Changfa crawled a few more steps before his strength gradually gave out. His arms went limp, and he collapsed onto the ground, gasping heavily. Blood kept spilling from the corners of his mouth and pooled beneath him.

"Y-you just wait..." He raised his head, his eyes filled with venom, blood vessels crawling across his eyeballs. "I-I'll wait for you in the underworld... Sooner or later... sooner or later, you'll come down and join me..."

Wang Xuan still did not move. After several seconds of silence, he finally spoke, his voice flat and without the slightest warmth. "Don't worry. You won't live to see it."

Qi Changfa opened his mouth, wanting to say something more, but all that came out was blood. He could no longer form a complete sound, and his eyes gradually lost focus as the venom in them slowly faded.

At last, his head tilted to one side, and he stopped moving completely. His eyes remained open, fixed stubbornly in Wang Xuan's direction. He died unwilling to close them.

Wang Xuan glanced at Qi Changfa's corpse and reflected that the three men had been quite calculating. They knew what he lacked, had guessed which direction he would take, and had even prepared the book in advance. Their setup had indeed been thoughtful.

Too thoughtful, unfortunately.

In the world of Secret of the Linked Cities, people's hearts were as wicked as ghosts. One had to be on guard everywhere. Its danger was likely surpassed only by the martial arts worlds found in Gu Long's novels.

Wang Xuan turned and left. Though he knew this was an open scheme, he would not grow careless just because he was a Three-Unity Great Xiantian. He headed in the opposite direction.

After crossing another two streets, he found a different bookstore.

The door was shut, so he kicked it open. After searching around inside, he found an old copy of Selected Tang Poetry on the innermost shelf. He flipped through a page or two, then tucked the book into his robes.

The Sun Lineage climbed higher and higher, shining upon all of Jingzhou City like a massive graveyard.