So It Was a Tragedy

Yang Kai was dead.

Everyone froze, including their senior brother Lu Bin, who had the highest cultivation among them.

From the beginning to the strike, only three breaths had passed.

Watching Li Ping'an walk away, Lu Bin felt the corners of his mouth twitch involuntarily.

If he had been the one facing this man just now...

Three breaths would have been enough for him to circulate his true qi and bring his body to peak condition.

But the crux of the matter was that he was being wise after the event.

Had he actually been in Yang Kai's place, he probably would never have imagined that his opponent could kill him with a single slash within three breaths.

This man's strength...

Forget attacking-Lu Bin and the others did not even have the courage to make a sound.

Only when Li Ping'an and the ox slowly disappeared from sight...

Did much of that invisible pressure dissipate, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking at Yang Kai's corpse, they could not help feeling somewhat lost.

Someone who had been laughing and chatting with them a moment ago had become a corpse in the next.

The spring rain was like drifting clouds and mist.

It brushed past the branches and the withered yellow leaves, falling with a soft rustle...

Li Ping'an sat inside a dilapidated City God Temple, bit through the golden pill in his mouth, and swallowed it.

It was the treasure Monk Jiyan had left behind: the Sharira.

Rumors in the martial world claimed it could regenerate missing limbs and mend damaged bodies.

After obtaining it by chance, Li Ping'an had worried there might be something fishy about it and had not taken it.

Not until today.

The pill quickly dissolved in his mouth, then poured into his body.

In an instant, Li Ping'an was drenched in sweat, and every breath sent a plume of white vapor from his mouth.

Qi flowed toward his dantian, building pressure at his tailbone before surging through.

When the last strand of astral qi returned to his dantian, sweat poured from his pores.

A terrifying pressure bore down on his internal organs, leaving him feeling as though he were suffocating.

Soon, however, strength returned to his body.

Vast vitality erupted within him, repairing the channels in his arm little by little.

Though it was only strands of astral qi linking together, the effect was excellent.

Where his left arm had once been missing, he now felt an unbearable itch.

He tried hard to open his eyes, but a searing pain still stabbed through them.

Warm liquid slipped from the corners of his eyes, trickling down drop by drop.

Every muscle in his body spasmed, every nerve trembled, and every bone endured tremendous pain.

An unknown length of time passed before Li Ping'an finally lay still, with only a few muscles continuing to twitch slowly.

He tried to exhale a breath of stale air, but a thick, sweet substance clogged his throat.

He coughed hard, only to spray out a mouthful of blood.

"Moo, moo!!"

Old Ox lowed several times in excitement.

Li Ping'an tried moving his arm and felt strength in it once more.

His missing left arm had grown back as well.

He had yet to get used to using it, though, and letting it drag along made it feel more like a burden.

But...

His vision remained a gray haze, without the slightest sign of recovery.

Perhaps the Sharira could only regenerate missing limbs and mend damaged bodies, not restore sight.

Or perhaps there was some other, unknown reason.

Li Ping'an did not dwell on it. His arm had recovered, and there had been no side effects.

That was enough to leave him thoroughly satisfied.

He tried regulating his true qi, but the qi inside him was somewhat chaotic and extremely difficult to control.

He could clearly feel an extra portion of true qi within him that did not belong to him.

Only by driving his true qi again and again to keep it from spreading could Li Ping'an temporarily settle himself.

Three days later, Old Ox carried Li Ping'an back to the Anbei Four Garrisons.

"Uncle, uncle!!"

Overjoyed, Aliya called out happily.

Li Ping'an smiled and patted her head.

"Uncle... your arm?"

Aliya was astonished to discover that Li Ping'an's missing left arm had now grown back.

"I found a miracle doctor to reattach it," Li Ping'an said calmly.

"What miracle doctor could be that amazing!?"

Aliya's eyes widened in disbelief.

Li Ping'an brushed her off with a few casual explanations.

"Uncle, what about Chu Sheng? How is he?" Aliya pressed eagerly.

Li Ping'an fell silent for a moment, then took a letter from inside his robe.

"He went to the Capital City to find his mother. It could take a month or so, or as long as three to five years. He told us not to worry about him."

"Ah! That brat went to the Capital City without even telling us! He made me worry for so many days."

Aliya took the letter angrily, puffing out her cheeks.

"The next time I see him, I'll beat his face into a pig's head."

Duha came out as well and looked at the letter.

As though she had realized something, the joy froze on her face, and she raised her head to look at Li Ping'an.

"...Uncle."

"He's doing very well," Li Ping'an said calmly. "Let's not disturb him anymore. Perhaps he'll come visit us one day."

The spring breeze passed, sending willow fluff swirling through the air.

As though it meant to scatter a young man's dreams.

So it was a tragedy. Li Ping'an hated tragedies.

But that was how the world worked. Effort did not always bear fruit, and pouring out one's heart could still go unrewarded.

The young man had charged into the wind with a heart full of burning passion, endlessly weaving his dreams until he burned himself to ashes.

There had been no fame or success, no glorious profusion of flowers.

Three months later, at the Spring Beauty Courtyard.

"What's been wrong with you lately? You're off your game."

Ma Sanniang sat with one leg crossed over the other, glancing at the haggard-looking Li Ping'an beside her.

"A little."

Li Ping'an spoke quietly.

Ever since he had taken the Sharira, which could "regenerate missing limbs and mend damaged bodies," his arm had recovered.

But an extra current of true qi had also begun rampaging through his body.

He could neither absorb it nor expel it.

Every time, he had to spend a great deal of effort settling it down.

"Forget it. Take some time off for now," Ma Sanniang said.

This was a busy period for the Spring Beauty Courtyard.

Every assassin practically wished they could do the work of two people.

Yet Li Ping'an had become unable to accept commissions at precisely this time.

Leaving the Spring Beauty Courtyard, Li Ping'an felt a little troubled.

...What should I eat tonight?

After some thought, he decided to buy a few lotus-leaf pancakes.

Lotus-leaf pancakes were not actually lotus leaves. They were thin as paper, soft, and snowy white.

Their resemblance to lotus leaves gave them their name, and they had a springy texture when chewed.

Inns and restaurants often used them to wrap roast chicken or shredded roast duck, served with sweet bean sauce, scallions, and other accompaniments.

With Li Ping'an's current finances, however, roast duck was beyond his means.

He bought a few pancakes and ordered a bowl of hot pepper soup.

Then he sat by the roadside in the bustling streets, alternating bites of pancake with mouthfuls of soup.

Steam rose from the hot pepper soup, and he blew on it as he drank.

By the time he finished a bowl, he was covered in sweat.

With just under half of his last pancake left, he simply dropped it into the soup.

Tilting his head back, he gulped the whole lot down.

Snippets of street gossip reached his ears.

"Have you heard? A Western Regions Swordsman came here recently, and he's caused quite a stir.

"He's been waiting outside the Autumn Wind Court for martial artists from the Central Plains. So far, no fewer than several dozen have lost to him."

The other man asked curiously, "Could we still see him if we went now?"

"That Western Regions Swordsman appears at the Autumn Wind Court every ten days."