Moonlight filtered through the window paper, imprinting the assassin's shadow upon it. The sensation of a sword entering a body was exquisitely indescribable, like smashing a fragile piece of porcelain, satisfying the destructive urge buried within human hearts.
Ning Chen did not consider himself a pervert, but for the sake of staying alive, he did not mind experiencing that perverse feeling once.
"Mm."
A muffled groan sounded outside the door. It was clearly a woman's voice, impossible to conceal.
Ning Chen did not like hitting women, much less killing them. Unless, of course, the woman wanted his life.
With a bang, the wheelchair smashed through the door. Ning Chen swept out of the room, Ink Sword advancing in his hand as it drove the woman's body forward three steps in a row.
Suddenly, a terrifying arrow streaked in from afar, arriving in an instant. It was exquisite to the extreme, leaving no room to evade.
"Again, you!"
Ning Chen's pupils contracted, fury surging within him. This was already the third time. Did this person truly have no end?
Ink Sword turned, bringing the woman's body before the wheelchair as a shield. Then, with a hiss, the arrow pierced through her body.
That instant of delay gave Ning Chen time to react. His left hand seized the arrow shaft protruding from her body, but a massive force crashed into him, throwing his entire body back three steps before he slammed into the half-destroyed door with a clang.
"Urgh."
Ning Chen groaned, and blood spread from his left chest, dyeing his robes red.
The arrowhead had entered less than halfway before it finally lost its force and could advance no farther.
Cold sweat covered Ning Chen's body. That arrow had been far too dangerous. He was not Xia Miaoyu; he could not completely receive this person's arrows.
The woman was dead beyond all doubt. Her eyes had gone vacant as she collapsed limply.
Ning Chen pulled the arrow from his chest, dread lingering in his heart. Had the woman not blocked it just now, he would be the one lying down now.
"This person cannot be allowed to live."
The cold sweat on Ning Chen's back had yet to fade. Only after taking an arrow head-on did he understand just how terrifying this person's archery was.
However, he had noticed something. The most arrows this person had ever fired at once was three.
Moreover, this person had never shown themself.
He had suspected it back when Changsun was assassinated. At that time, if this person had emerged to intercept them, neither he nor Changsun could possibly have survived. Even after he decisively dragged Changsun into the crowd, a second life-taking arrow had never appeared.
All signs pointed to one conclusion: the archer was very likely mobility-impaired. Once Ning Chen left that person's line of sight, there would be no more danger.
As it happened, his own mobility was not very convenient either.
But he had a fine wheelchair.
The next moment, the wheelchair spun nine times, and Ning Chen swiftly shot forward. He was not worried that an arrow would come now. Arrows were always difficult to fire at moving targets.
That woman had not died for nothing. At the very least, from the body that had been shot clean through, he had determined the precise direction from which the arrow had come. This person's arrows were too fast; otherwise, he would have had to use his own corpse to judge from the underworld.
There were not many places in the imperial city that overlooked Lingyan Pavilion. Based on the arrow's direction, locating the position was not difficult. His only concern was how strong the guardian by this person's side might be.
Under the cold moonlight, a streak of black cut through the night. Mr. Lu of the academy was a genius craftsman. Driven by true qi, the black wheelchair was far faster than one might imagine.
Ning Chen looked at the Buddhist pagoda ahead, an icy glint flashing through his eyes.
Few in Great Xia believed in Buddha, and neither did he.
Buddhism spoke of the next life, but he cared more about this one.
If there truly were another life, he hoped the world would be at peace.
The Buddhist pagoda was tall and illuminated—not by candlelight, but by moonlight reflected from relics.
It was said that long ago, Buddhism had flourished upon this land. When eminent monks passed away, they might leave behind relics.
This Buddhist pagoda had existed longer than Great Xia itself. Though Great Xia did not believe in Buddhism, it still repaired this ancient pagoda year after year.
Soon, Ning Chen arrived beneath the pagoda. Looking upward, he considered whether to climb up or simply wait.
In the end, he decided to go up. If that dead man stayed up there all night, was he supposed to wait like a fool all night too?
Was he a fool? Clearly not...
Stairs were Ning Chen's most hated thing. Wheels were never suited for going up and down.
The Buddhist pagoda was very tall, so naturally it had many stairs. It took no small amount of effort from him.
The wind atop the pagoda was fierce. Ning Chen narrowed his eyes slightly. At some point, he had developed this habit.
Two people waited ahead: one man and one cripple.
The man held a flute. Seeing the youth arrive, he frowned.
The cripple turned around with difficulty and grinned. His ugly face was sickening to behold.
An odd-looking pair, an odd-looking combination.
Ning Chen thought to himself that someone crippled to this extent could never have kept up with him and Changsun.
His own legs could not move, while the person before him seemed to have only two movable hands.
For such a person to cultivate archery to this level was truly terrifying beyond measure.
As for the man holding the flute beside him, Ning Chen had not paid him much attention at first. Here, the cripple's bow posed the greatest threat to him, while the flute-bearing man gave off no oppressive aura.
Unless they had reached the Xiantian Realm, powerful martial artists found it difficult to completely conceal their aura. The stronger a person was, the more oppressive they felt.
The Azure Bow in the cripple's hands was far too dangerous. Ning Chen did not know whether his guess was correct. If the cripple could fire arrows of such terrifying power without limit, there was no need to fight today.
Ning Chen remained fully alert as he slowly drew Ink Sword from behind the wheelchair. Today, he had to eliminate this terrifying enemy. He had no desire to someday be silently shot dead by an arrow in the street.
The man's expression was equally grave. He sensed danger from the youth's sword. This was not the plains; his strength would be greatly diminished here.
Of the three present, only the ugly cripple continued to smile, his smile twisted and perverse.
Suddenly, he drew the bow and nocked an arrow. The arrow crossed the air like a shooting star, reaching Ning Chen in an instant.
Ning Chen held his sword across to block it. With a clang, sparks flew from the arrowhead as Ink Sword knocked it away.
The cripple smiled even more brilliantly. His ugly face twisted further, making him look somewhat frightening.
Ning Chen's expression did not change. Such arrows posed no threat to him.
The north wind atop the pagoda grew colder and colder. The frigid moon hung high overhead, shining upon the three of them and adding another measure of chill to this battle where only one side could live.
The man raised the flute in his hand and brought it to his lips. Ning Chen's heart jolted, instinctively sensing something was wrong. Ink Sword moved, and he rushed forward.
Whoosh.
Another arrow came, blocking his path and forcing him to withdraw his sword to defend.
"Woooo..."
The next moment, a low and gloomy flute melody rang out across the Buddhist pagoda. Its decadent notes instantly dragged one's mind into ruin.
Demonic music seized the soul and struck straight at the heart. Ning Chen twisted his right hand and mercilessly stabbed Ink Sword into his own leg. A searing pain surged through him, forcibly scattering the haze in his mind.
Yet in that very instant, an arrow-light brighter than Mingyue arrived before him. The cold wind trailing from its tail hissed and shrieked, piercing the mind.
"I was waiting for you."
Ning Chen's eyes turned cold. He neither dodged nor retreated. Before him, the Large Black Umbrella opened with a bang, instantly blocking out the dazzling arrow-light.
Boom!
A horrifying explosion rang out as the arrow-light struck the Large Black Umbrella, creating a terrible shockwave. All three men felt piercing pain in their ears, their blood and qi churning violently within them.
The wheelchair was blasted back a full three zhang before barely stopping. The Large Black Umbrella was completely ruined, a huge hole blown through it. But this terrifying arrow had also spent all its force and fell weakly to the ground.
Ning Chen did not feel the slightest regret. With his left hand, he forcibly tore the mechanisms securing the Large Black Umbrella from both sides of the wheelchair and casually tossed them aside.
He could just have Old Lu install another one when he returned to the academy. There was nothing to regret.
If it could block even one arrow, he had made a profit.
He had proposed the wheelchair's mechanisms, while Old Lu had supplied the design methods and materials. Neither of them had anything to do with being upright gentlemen, so the wheelchair's greatest uses were ambushing people and keeping him alive.
"Alright. The schemes and mechanisms have been used up. Neither side owes the other anything. Now, let us begin again—a fair fight."
Ning Chen wheeled himself three zhang forward and spoke calmly.
The man stepped forward, put away his flute, then drew a curved saber from behind his back. He stared coldly at the youth before him and accepted the challenge.
"A real man."
Ning Chen praised him. Ink Sword trembled in his hand, Frost Bloom condensing upon it and bringing a faint chill.
He liked this kind of upright gentleman behavior.
The man moved first. His curved saber flashed like the moon, cutting out the sharpest killing light. He knew where his strength lay—an advantage that should not have counted as one.
Among the three present, he was the fastest.
The man was skilled with his saber. People of the plains possessed a curved saber of their own from childhood. After accompanying them for years, it became their closest companion.
Facing the life-taking curved saber, Ning Chen raised his sword, then brought it down. It was simple and pure, without any technique at all.
Yet this simple sword strike—or saber strike—caused the man's expression to change drastically. He discovered that no matter what he did, he could not evade it.
He did not know that this was the youth's finest sword strike. The line before his chest was forbidden ground.
Ning Chen had chopped firewood at the academy for over two months. This single strike had fallen tens of thousands of times, becoming so familiar it had practically been carved into his bones.
The man could not evade, so he could only raise his saber horizontally to block. Sword and saber collided with a bang, and both men sank three inches into the ground.
Whoosh.
A streak of ink-black light flashed between them. The man's pupils contracted, and disbelief immediately crossed his face.
"You... you..."
The man fell. A concealed arrow still trembled in his chest. He could not understand it. Had Ning Chen not said they would begin again with a fair fight?
"Fool, I lied to you."
A cold curve rose at the corner of Ning Chen's mouth as he spoke.
What was fairness? You die, I live. That was fairness.
The one thing that could never be trusted in this world was an enemy. Knowing someone was an enemy and still believing them—if that was not foolishness, what was?
"Now, only the two of us remain. Tell me, how should we settle this?"
Ning Chen wheeled himself a few steps closer, looking coldly at the cripple before him.
There was no longer any suspense in the remaining battle. A bow was ultimately a weapon for long-range attacks. At such close distance, he would not give the cripple another chance to draw it.
"Hehe."
The cripple gave a strange laugh. He neither begged for mercy nor fired another arrow. His right hand grabbed the railing atop the pagoda and snapped it apart with force. Then his body tipped backward, falling like a kite with its string cut.
"The Zhao Family will come for you sooner or later."
The falling man held no attachment to this world. Only his curse-like voice echoed through the night sky, lingering for a long time.
Ning Chen narrowed his eyes. He did not know what Zhao Family they were talking about, but he knew that today, he had survived.
The relics atop the Buddhist pagoda still gave off a gentle glow. Buddha said that one could lay down the butcher's blade and become a Buddha on the spot, but had he ever considered that if Ning Chen laid down his blade, the only thing he could become was a ghost?
The same words held true: if there were another life, he hoped the world would be at peace.
(P.S. Reader group number. Those who enjoy lively company may join. Men verify on the left, women on the right; hermaphrodites are not accepted for now!)
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