Jianghu Demolition Squad

Moving Like the Stars (Part Fourteen)

The group of men in black moved with a steady and prolonged energy, their steps light, encircling Yan Li and Qing Jiu.

Their presence was starkly different from those they had encountered at the inn yesterday; those had been overt, whereas these men were reserved, often a sign of hidden depths.

Observing the situation, it was clear these were not as easily fooled as those from the day before.

The horses beneath them paced restlessly. Qing Jiu remarked in a nonchalant tone, “These beasts are truly perceptive.” It seemed she was talking about the horses, but the implication went deeper.

“Hand over the Fenghou Sword, and you can avoid death. It would be a pity for someone so young and talented to fall here. You should know to value your life.”

As Qing Jiu soothed her horse, she couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh upon hearing these words.

The sun blazed overhead, the cold forest quiet around them, her laughter clear and ringing. She said, “I’m tired of repeating myself; I don’t have the Fenghou Sword, and I don’t know where it is. Why does no one believe me?”

“What exactly did Xuanji Tower promise you to make you so certain you could obtain the Fenghou Sword from me? Youngsters might be excusable for their hot-blooded naivety, but you, seasoned veterans of the jianghu, how could you so readily believe and gather here to make things difficult for a weak woman like me?”

These men were concealing their identities out of fear of recognition, using such underhanded methods to steal the sword, all to avoid tarnishing their reputations, hence the mask.

Some seemed uneasy, as if Qing Jiu had seen right through them, their eyes darting around even though her gaze was not fixed on them.

“You came from Hangzhou.”

Qing Jiu turned to the speaker, a man who had gone to great lengths to disguise himself, his face and eyebrows concealed by a black scarf, revealing only his eyes. Those eyes, slightly gray against the snowy backdrop, carried a weight of years and looked at people not with fierceness, but with a hint of kindness.

Qing Jiu’s expression cooled, her face emotionless as she replied, “So what if I did?”

Sensing something unusual in Qing Jiu’s gaze, the man trembled slightly and looked away, remaining silent for a long time.

Another loudly challenged, “Do you dare to say that you’re not the surviving orphan of the Lin family?”

Qing Jiu dismounted, walked to the center of the road, and unstrapped the Liangyi swords from her waist, looking up at the crowd, “I am the surviving orphan of the Lin family. Do you recognize me?” The air around her seemed to shift, as if she had shed a disguise.

Lying was easy, spinning tales far and wide was her skill, but there were certain matters she was stubborn about, such as personally denying her family lineage.

Her question wasn’t really a question; it was a confirmation.

“You recognize me.”

Upon hearing her words, the crowd was shocked, and some even subconsciously took half a step back, their shoes scraping against the snow with a sound.

“If that’s the case, there’s no need for you to continue hiding behind clever words. Lin Chou and Zhu Jiu must have given you the Fenghou Sword…”

Qing Jiu’s face darkened, and she snapped fiercely, “What right do you have to speak their names!”

The man swallowed hard, sweat beading at his temples, “You…”

The atmosphere in the forest was tense and chilling, a crow flying overhead cawing sharply, landing on a snow-covered branch.

Qing Jiu looked up, laughing at the clear blue sky, the brilliant sun warming her eyes. She squinted slightly, “It seems you all had a part in what happened back then.”

The sound of a dagger being slowly drawn was particularly jarring in the silent forest, Qing Jiu glanced sideways, her gaze as sharp as lightning.

The man’s instincts as a martial artist kicked in, his hairs standing on end.

A white figure dashed across the snow, swift as lightning, the harsh wind meeting his face. He covered his left arm with his dagger, blocking a sword strike, but the force pushed him back three steps.

One sword strike followed by another.

In the blink of an eye, the rest of the black-clad men, seeing their comrade engaged, moved to attack, outnumbering her.

Yan Li had never heard Qing Jiu talk about her past, and what little she had gathered from Daoist Yiye and Venerable Kuyuan was fragmented at best. Although she had some guesses, she dared not confirm them recklessly.

Hearing Qing Jiu openly acknowledge herself as the orphan of the Lin family, and recalling the infamous Lin family massacre mentioned in jianghu, Yan Li involuntarily gasped.

Her gaze swept over the group in black, noticing some were visibly shaken by Qing Jiu’s words—not out of guilt for the past but fearing their identities being revealed, which could tarnish their reputations.

The pursuit of power had driven them to such madness.

With a frown and a heavy heart, Yan Li sighed deeply, “In this world, life and death are driven by profit. They won’t stop until they reach the end.”

No sooner had she spoken than Qing Jiu, recognizing the identities of their attackers, sprung into action. Without even drawing her sword fully, she unleashed three strikes at the man wielding the dagger, prompting a unified assault from the group in black.

Yan Li’s expression shifted, and she immediately drew her long sword from behind with her whisk, stepping up on her horse to break into the encirclement and aid Qing Jiu.

These assailants were strong and numerous, and unlike the previous day’s opponents, Qing Jiu and Yan Li couldn’t easily subdue them. However, revealing the faces beneath those masks was not beyond Qing Jiu’s capabilities.

In the time it took an incense stick to burn, Qing Jiu had removed the masks of eight men, exposing their true face.

Holding a black mask in one hand and her unsheathed Liangyi sword in the other, Qing Jiu’s gaze swept across their faces; two of them hastily covered their faces with their hands, while the other six, seeing no further point in hiding, resigned themselves to their exposure.

One of them, with a gentle voice, said, “Just hand over the sword, we don’t want to go to extremes.”

Qing Jiu looked at the man and smiled.

Her face was full of mockery as she called out, “Uncle Feng.”

It was the eyes of that man, aged and weary, who had initially asked if Qing Jiu was from Hangzhou.

Hearing her address him as ‘Uncle Feng,’ Yan Li felt a chill down her spine, a pain as if cut by a knife, and she too looked at the man.

Qing Jiu smiled and said, “Uncle Feng, do you remember how you used to hold me when I was little?” Her tone was soft, as if reminiscing with a beloved elder.

“You… you remember…” The man’s voice choked up, his brows trembling, he could not bring himself to meet her gaze.

She was so young back then, and yet she had not forgotten.

Qing Jiu knew what he was thinking; she tossed the masks aside and said, “I remember, Uncle Hao and Uncle Feng were my favorite uncles.”

“Not only that, but I also vaguely remember these words: ‘The kindness of a sworn brother is like being reborn. Brother Feng will always remember it in his heart and dare not forget. In this lifetime, I will be an ox or a horse to serve my elder brother, yet even that cannot repay a fraction of the debt.’”

Some die for honor, others betray for profit; such is the disparity among men.

“That day, I saw how Uncle Feng repaid his debt. It truly opened my eyes! The faces I saw that day, I’ve never forgotten in these fourteen years of days and nights.”

Qing Jiu touched her face, her smile devoid of any emotion, “Uncle Feng, tell me, does my face resemble more my mother or my father? After all these years, I’m starting to forget what they looked like.”

The man stepped back, his sweat cold; he had never felt such fear, not even at the brink of death.

Suddenly, a sword light flashed from the left, aimed at Qing Jiu, as someone no longer wished to hear her speak.

Her Liangyi deflected the blade, but another attacker pressed on, and the fight resumed.

Yan Li was also surrounded by four men. As the battle dragged on, her strength began to wane. Three opponents attacked from the front with swords and knives, while another struck from behind, thrusting a sword toward her back.

Just then, a whip slashed through the air, striking at the wrist of the man attacking Yan Li from behind. The whip moved swiftly, and though he dodged, he was thrown into disarray.

The whip didn’t stop; it turned and attacked the three people in front of Yan Li. The black whip was exceedingly long and flexible, and the wielder handled it with remarkable agility, each strike targeting a vital spot.

The three men quickly dodged and, stabilizing themselves, looked towards the newcomer, exclaiming in surprise, “The City Lord of Jile City.”

Unbeknownst to them, a group had arrived at the edge of the snowy woods, led by Wu Yu. It was indeed the people from Jile City.

Wu Yu’s eyes fixed solely on Yan Li as she said, “I had just returned to the city when I heard you were captured by the Moonless Sect, and now you’ve run into that fox Lingyun. It seems I can’t take my eyes off you for a second without you wandering off somewhere.”

After the martial arts competition, because of the disturbances caused by Wu Chang and others using walking corpses, and given that Jile City wasn’t far from the Miaojiang, where many from the Gu Emperor lineage reside—whether they were righteous or evil was unclear.

Seeing the horror of the walking corpses, Wu Yu had no choice but to return to the city to handle the situation personally.

Once everything was arranged, she hurried back to Jiangnan, unwilling to let Yan Li out of her sight again. Compared to the several years since they last met, she was determined to take her back by force if necessary.

Just upon entering Jiangnan, she heard about Yan Li’s capture by the Moonless Sect. Fortunately, Yan Li had escaped safely. Wu Yu dispatched people to track her down. They reached Yong City early this morning, only to find she had already left, prompting them to hurry after her, encountering the forces of Xuanji Tower along the way.

She had clashed with Lingyun twice before, and each encounter with that man grew stranger than the last. She had a gut feeling that this man was now targeting Yan Li and her group, so she continued her pursuit without rest.

“Tower Master Lingyun never mentioned the City Lord of Jile City would come.”

“I didn’t expect the City Lord to be interested in the Fenghou Sword as well.”

The crowd’s murmurs were entirely ignored by Wu Yu; her gaze remained intently on Yan Li, her initial smile turning cold upon noticing the bloodstains on her robe. She swiftly turned her glare to the person closest to Yan Li, saying, “You dare to touch what’s mine?!”

The bloodstains on the Daoist robe were actually from a strategy used the day before; Yan Li had not been injured, but Wu Yu, having just arrived, misunderstood, thinking these people had harmed her.

Listening to the implications in Wu Yu’s words, the others became more convinced she had come for the Fenghou Sword. Her actions were as domineering as ever.

Seeing her displeasure, someone hurriedly explained, “We’ve all agreed to force the Fenghou Sword to appear. Afterward, it’s up to each person’s abilities. Before that, we mustn’t…”

Wu Yu gestured to the side, and her female general took the black whip from her hand, offering her another softer whip instead.

This whip reflected a white light, crafted from interwoven silver and gold threads, capable of breaking iron and shattering stone.

This whip was far more powerful than the black one. Before the speaker could finish, Wu Yu flicked the golden whip, which rolled like a silver python devouring the sky.

The man was startled; he had no quarrel with Wu Yu and did not expect her to strike so suddenly. He raised his sword to block, but while the whip’s body was intercepted, the tail flicked naturally around and struck his arm.

He felt a searing pain, as if his arm had broken, and when his sword met the golden whip, he felt an overwhelming force, like a mountain collapsing upon him. His hand was torn, and the sword trembled uncontrollably.

In his panic, he stumbled backward several steps.

But in his haste, focused solely on defending against Wu Yu, he failed to notice a flash of silver coming from the side, striking upward like thunder.

He shivered as blood sprayed out. Staggering, he fell to the ground, his gaze fixed on Qing Jiu, who stood before him with a shimmering silver blade. Before he could comprehend what had happened, his consciousness began to fade, with the last clear image being her faintly smiling lips.

Witnessing this, the crowd couldn’t help but reassess Qing Jiu’s abilities.

Although the man had been careless, his death was not just due to his negligence; Qing Jiu had seized the perfect moment to strike with lightning speed. Such skill could match that of a top-tier assassin. They thought if it had been them, they might not have evaded it either.

Qing Jiu tossed her weapon, switching from a reverse to a proper grip. Her specialty had never been the gentle, non-confrontational Taixu Sword Art but rather this lethal efficiency.

Qing Jiu flicked the fresh blood off her blade, her face still wearing an emotionless smile.

The crowd’s hearts tightened; the cub had grown into a lone wolf, and now it was unclear who the prey was.

Meanwhile, Wu Yu, having injured one, showed no signs of stopping. Her golden whip whirled and lashed towards another. The man didn’t dare block it directly and hastily retreated, keeping an eye on Qing Jiu’s movements.

Seeing this, the others exchanged glances and said, “The City Lord of Jile City has traveled a long distance to visit us and is our honored guest. Today, we will defer to the City Lord and seek her counsel on another day.”

With that, they began to retreat into the forest.

Qing Jiu called out, “You think you can come and just leave?”

As her words fell, those who hadn’t gone far actually halted.

A clear voice called out, “That’s right, no need to rush off, everyone.”

The crowd parted, and a figure with his followers slowly approached, his long hair frosty white and his phoenix eyes narrow, a cinnabar mark between his brows adding a demonic allure.

He approached slowly, each step deliberate, and called out, “Si’er.”

Qing Jiu’s pupils constricted, her heart pounding as if struck by a heavy blow. Hatred, like a cold, inescapable net, tightened around her heart.