The Cold Wind at the Hem of the Robe

Moonlight streamed through the paper window, casting the assassin's shadow upon it. The sensation of a sword piercing flesh was exquisitely indescribable, like shattering fragile porcelain, satisfying humanity's destructive urge.

Ning Chen didn't consider himself a pervert, but to survive, he didn't mind experiencing this perverse sensation just once.

"Mmm."

A muffled groan came from outside the door. It was a woman's voice, clear and undisguised.

Ning Chen didn't like hitting women, much less trying to kill them. However, women who sought to kill him were an exception.

With a crash, the door was broken through by his wheelchair. Ning Chen surged out of the room, his Ink Sword leading the way, carrying the woman's body forward three steps.

Suddenly, a terrifying arrow of light shot from afar, arriving in an instant, so incredibly precise it was impossible to dodge.

"It's you again!"

Ning Chen's eyes narrowed, his heart filled with rage. This was the third time; it truly seemed endless.

The Ink Sword turned, positioning the woman's body in front of the wheelchair. Then, with a tearing sound, the arrow of light pierced straight through, impaling the woman.

The momentary delay gave Ning Chen a chance to react. His left hand grabbed the arrow shaft protruding from her body, but a tremendous force jolted him, sending his entire body stumbling back three steps, crashing against the half-destroyed door with a clang.

"Ugh."

Ning Chen groaned, a streak of fresh blood blooming from his left chest, staining his clothes.

The arrowhead had entered his body slightly, but ultimately lost momentum and couldn't penetrate further.

Ning Chen was drenched in cold sweat. This arrow had been too dangerous. He wasn't Xia Miaoyu; he couldn't fully withstand this person's arrow.

The woman was deader than dead, her eyes vacant, as she fell limply.

Ning Chen pulled the arrow from his chest, a wave of lingering fear washing over him. If the woman hadn't blocked it, he would be the one lying there now.

"This person cannot be allowed to live."

The cold sweat on Ning Chen's back hadn't subsided. Only by facing it head-on did he realize how terrifying this person's archery was.

However, he noticed something: the most arrows this person had ever shot was three.

Moreover, this person had never shown their face.

He had suspected it when Grandson was ambushed. At that time, if this person had come out to intercept them, he and Grandson would absolutely not have survived. Even after he pulled Grandson and decisively blended into the crowd, a second deadly arrow hadn't appeared.

All signs pointed to the archer likely having limited mobility. Once they were out of his sight, there was no danger.

Coincidentally, his own mobility was also limited.

But he had a good wheelchair.

The next moment, the wheelchair made nine turns, and Ning Chen's figure swiftly shot forward. He wasn't worried about an arrow coming now; arrows were always difficult to shoot at moving targets.

That woman hadn't died in vain. At the very least, her body, pierced through, showed him the exact direction the arrow came from. This person's arrows were too fast; otherwise, he'd have to figure it out from his own corpse in the underworld.

There weren't many places in the Imperial City that overlooked Lingyan Pavilion. Pinpointing the location based on the arrow's direction wasn't difficult. His only concern was how strong the protector by this person's side might be.

Under the clear moonlight, a black streak cut through the night. Mr. Lu from the Academy was a genius craftsman; the black wheelchair, when propelled by true qi, was much faster than imagined.

Ning Chen looked at the Buddhist pagoda ahead, a glint of extreme coldness flashing in his eyes.

Very few people in Great Xia believed in Buddhism; he didn't either.

Buddhism spoke of the afterlife, but he cared more about this life.

If there were another life, he hoped for peace under heaven.

The Buddhist pagoda was tall, and there was light, not candlelight, but moonlight reflected by relics.

It was said that long ago, Buddhism flourished in this land, and enlightened monks, after passing away, might leave behind relics.

This Buddhist pagoda had existed even longer than the history of Great Xia's founding. Although Great Xia didn't believe in Buddhism, it still renovated this ancient pagoda annually.

Soon, Ning Chen arrived at the pagoda's base, looking up at it, wondering whether to go up or wait.

Ultimately, he decided to go up. If this dead person stayed up there all night, wouldn't he have to wait like an idiot all night too?

Was he an idiot? Clearly not…

Stairs were Ning Chen's most hated thing. Wheels were simply not suited for climbing up and down.

The Buddhist pagoda was tall, so there were naturally many stairs, which took a considerable amount of effort from him.

The wind was strong at the top of the Buddhist pagoda. Ning Chen's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't know when he had developed this habit.

Two people were waiting ahead: a man and a disabled person.

The man held a xiao flute in his hand. Seeing the approaching youth, he frowned.

The disabled person turned around with difficulty, cracking a smile. His ugly face looked nauseating.

Oddly shaped, and an odd combination.

Ning Chen thought to himself, So disabled, how could he possibly have kept up with me and Grandson?

He couldn't move his legs, while the person in front of him seemed to only be able to move their hands.

For such a person to develop such archery skills was truly terrifying.

As for the man with the xiao flute beside him, Ning Chen hadn't paid much attention to him at first. Here, the greatest threat to him was the bow in the disabled person's hands, and the man holding the xiao didn't exude any oppressive aura.

Unless a powerful martial artist reaches the Xiantian Realm, it's difficult for them to completely conceal their aura. The stronger someone is, the greater the pressure they exert.

The cripple's blue bow was too dangerous. Ning Chen didn't know if his guess was true. If the cripple could endlessly shoot arrows of such terrifying power, there would be no point in fighting today.

Ning Chen was on high alert. He slowly drew Ink Sword from behind his wheelchair. Today, he had to eliminate this terrifying enemy. He didn't want to be silently shot dead by an arrow on the street one day.

The man's expression was also solemn. He sensed danger from the young man's sword. This wasn't the wilderness; his strength would be greatly reduced here.

Only the ugly cripple kept laughing, a twisted, perverse laugh.

Suddenly, he drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and the arrow shot forth like a meteor, reaching Ning Chen in an instant.

Ning Chen raised his sword to block. With a clang, the arrowhead sparked as it scraped against Ink Sword, then was deflected.

The cripple's smile grew even wider, his ugly face twisting, looking somewhat frightening.

Ning Chen's expression remained unchanged. Such arrows posed no threat to him.

The north wind atop the pagoda grew colder and colder. The high-hanging cold moon illuminated the three figures, adding three parts of chill to this life-and-death battle.

The man picked up 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 surged forward.

Whoosh!

Another arrow arrived, blocking his path and forcing him to pull back his sword to defend.

Woo...

The next moment, a low, melancholic flute melody echoed from the top of the pagoda. Its enchanting sound instantly caused one's mind to sink.

The demonic sound pierced his soul, reaching deep within. Ning Chen rotated his right hand, and Ink Sword mercilessly stabbed into his leg. A sharp pain shot through him, forcefully dispelling the dizziness in his mind.

However, in that very instant, an arrow's light, brighter than the full moon, arrived. The cold wind at the arrow's tail hissed, piercing the spirit.

"I was waiting for you."

Ning Chen's eyes turned cold. He didn't dodge. In front of his body, a large black umbrella unfurled with a thud, instantly obscuring the dazzling arrow light.

Boom!

A terrifying roar erupted as the arrow light struck the large black umbrella, creating the most horrifying sound wave. The three people present felt excruciating pain in their ears, and the blood in their bodies churned violently.

The wheelchair was propelled three zhang back by the immense force before finally stopping. The large black umbrella was completely ruined, blasted with a large hole, but this terrifying arrow had also exhausted its power and fell weakly.

Ning Chen felt no pity. With his left hand, he forcefully pulled the mechanism that held the large black umbrella from both sides of the wheelchair, then casually tossed it aside.

He could just have Mr. Lu install another one back at the Academy; there was nothing to feel bad about.

Being able to block one arrow meant he had already gained something.

He had proposed the wheelchair's mechanism design, and Mr. Lu had prepared the design methods and materials. Neither of them could be called true gentlemen, so the wheelchair's biggest uses were for ambushing people and saving his life.

"Alright, the mechanisms are all used up. No one owes anyone anything. Now, let's start over, with a fair fight."

Ning Chen rotated his wheelchair three zhang forward and spoke calmly.

The man stepped forward, put away the flute in his hand, and then drew a scimitar from behind him. He coldly stared at the young man before him, accepting the challenge.

"Good man,"

Ning Chen praised, and Ink Sword in his hand trembled, frost condensing and carrying a faint chill.

He liked this kind of gentlemanly behavior.

The man moved first, his scimitar like a moon, cutting out the sharpest killing light. He knew his strength, a strength that shouldn't have been considered one.

Among the three present, he was the fastest.

The man was very skilled with his blade. People from their grasslands had owned their own scimitars since childhood. They had been with them for years, becoming their closest companions.

Facing the life-threatening scimitar, Ning Chen raised his sword, then brought it down. It was simple and pure, without any specific moves.

However, it was this simple sword stroke, or rather, a blade stroke, that caused the man's expression to change dramatically. He realized he couldn't avoid it no matter what.

He didn't know that this was the young man's most skilled sword stroke; anything within a line across his chest was a forbidden zone.

Ning Chen had chopped firewood for over two months at the Academy. This stroke had been performed thousands upon thousands of times, so familiar that it was almost ingrained in his bones.

The man couldn't avoid it and could only block with his blade. When sword and blade met, there was a thud, and both of them sank three fen into the ground.

Whoosh!

A dark ink-colored light flashed between the two. The man's eyes narrowed, then a look of disbelief flashed across them.

"You... you..."

The man fell. A dark arrow was still trembling in his chest. He didn't understand. Hadn't they just said they would start over, with a fair fight?

"Idiot, I lied to you,"

Ning Chen's lips curved into a cold arc as he spoke.

What is fairness? Your death, my life—that is fairness.

In this world, the last person you can trust is your enemy. If you know they're an enemy and still trust them, what are you if not an idiot?

"Now, there are only two of us left. Tell me, how should we resolve this?"

Ning Chen rotated his wheelchair a few steps forward, looking at the cripple before him, and said coldly.

There was no longer any suspense in the remaining fight. Bows and arrows were, after all, long-range weapons. At such close quarters, he wouldn't give it another chance to nock an arrow.

"Heh heh."

The disabled figure gave a strange, crooked smile. It didn't beg for mercy, nor did it shoot another arrow. Its right hand gripped the railing at the top of the pagoda, forcefully breaking it, then its body tilted backward, falling like a kite with a broken string.

"The Zhao Family will come for you sooner or later."

The falling figure showed no lingering attachment to the world, only a voice like a curse echoing in the night, lingering for a long time.

Ning Chen narrowed his eyes. He didn't know anything about the Zhao Family, but he knew he had survived today.

The sarira on the pagoda still emitted a soft light. The Buddha said, "Lay down your butcher's knife and become a Buddha instantly." But had he ever considered that if he were to lay down his butcher's knife, he would only become a ghost?

Still, he held to that same wish: if there was a next life, he hoped for peace under heaven.

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