Jianghu Demolition Squad

Between Buddha and Demon (Part Two)

Qin Gui emerged from the forest, followed by someone. Qing Jiu, curled up on the ground, could only see the hem of her skirt.

In Qin Gui’s hand hung an object, from which blood dripped drop by drop onto the fallen leaves.

“I had believed Du Zhong’s swordsmanship to be the finest in the world and came specifically to witness it. Instead of witnessing his exquisite skills, I stumbled upon your little mischief. My disciple, you truly disappoint your master.”

Qing Jiu opened her mouth to speak but could only cough up blood, the pain intensifying to an unbearable degree. Unwilling to show weakness in front of others yet unable to control herself, she let out a whimper.

The person beside Qin Gui, holding her master’s zither, looked down at Qing Jiu prostrating before them and laughed, “This traitor twice disregarded your kindness, Master, acting with such arrogance, defying both Judge and yourself. She deserves this fate. Now that she’s nothing but a stray dog, how does the master intend to deal with her…?”

Before the person could finish, Qin Gui slapped her across the face with a sharp smack, leaving the person’s face swollen and red.

“No matter how far she’s fallen, she’s still my disciple. Who are you to criticize her in my presence?!”

The woman trembled all over, kneeling in fear, “This subordinate spoke out of turn. Please calm your anger, Master.”

Qin Gui rubbed her forehead with a sigh, her expression a mask of regret. “Look at this, disciple,” she lamented. “The quality of people the Ghost Sect has been recruiting has been declining. Those three fools had been with us for years, yet understood so little, thinking they could provoke just anyone within the Ghost Sect without consequence. Their deaths are hardly a loss. And this one,” she gestured to the woman she had slapped, “fails to meet my expectations, far too noisy for my liking. I think I’ll take on another disciple after you die for amusement, but I can never find one to my liking.”

Qin Gui threw the object in her hand in front of Qing Jiu, which rolled a few times. Despite her blurred vision, Qing Jiu could make out what it was.

The severed head of the Sword Saint Du Zhong.

“Your master has taken care of him for you, so I’ll spare you this time.”

Qin Gui crouched down, placing an antidote bottle in front of Qing Jiu and gently touched her head, “Be good, my precious disciple. If you want to live a little longer, be obedient and at least hold on until I find you a junior sister before you die.”

The scent of blood and death lingered by the stream. Qing Jiu’s pupils dilated, her vision turning white. She herself didn’t know if she was still conscious.

As the blinding light faded and her surroundings took shape again, Qin Gui was nowhere to be seen.

The fire still burned, flickering in the wind, the severed head of Du Zhong lying beside it, eyes cloudy and skin purpling.

Qing Jiu tried several times and finally managed to retrieve an antidote pill, swallowing it with a mouthful of fresh blood.

Her chest still felt as if it was being sliced with a dull knife, though slightly better than before. But before she could catch her breath, she heard sounds again.

The stream was a kilometer or two from the path leading to Du Zhong’s residence through the forest. With her profound internal energy and remarkable hearing, amplified by the silence of the deep night, she could make out the sound of galloping horses.

The horses stopped briefly, then split into two groups—one heading towards Du Zhong’s place, the other coming towards her.

As the sound drew nearer, Qing Jiu, leaning on her Fenghou, forced herself up, clutching Shang Sheng close to her chest.

A horse stopped not far behind her, and a figure dismounted and leaped towards her in an instant.

Under normal circumstances, Qing Jiu would have known who it was, but in her current dazed state, her body reacted without thought, turning with a sword thrust at the newcomer.

The figure neither dodged nor retaliated, simply stating, “It’s me.”

It was Yu’er who spoke.

The day Qing Jiu left Wujin City, Yang Chun happened to see her. He went back to Wenwu Sect and informed everyone, and without hesitation, Yu’er prepared and followed her.

She had reached Shouyuan City, where her trail went cold.

But Yu’er had a clear idea of where she was headed. As night fell, she left Qi Tianzhu and Yang Chun in the city, while the rest rushed to Du Zhong’s secluded residence.

Deep into the forest, halfway along the path, Yu’er felt a sudden intuition and split from the group, heading towards the stream. It wasn’t long before she spotted a flicker of firelight.

Given the late hour and the location not far from where Du Zhong had secluded himself, she wondered who else it could be.

From a distance, she recognized the figure by the fire.

“You’re hurt!”

She seemed oblivious to the sword Fenghou pointed at her, her eyes fixed solely on the alarming blood stains on the person before her.

Yu’er moved forward, but Qing Jiu’s grip on her sword did not waver, blocking the way.

Yu’er gently touched the blade with her fingers, pushing Fenghou aside.

As if triggering a mechanism, Qing Jiu’s resolve faltered, and she collapsed.

Yu’er quickly stepped forward to catch her, cradling her as they both knelt on the ground. Seeing the dark wet patch on her robe and the stark red on her chin, Yu’er reached out her hand as Qing Jiu’s breathing grew labored.

Suddenly alert, Qing Jiu grabbed Yu’er’s wrist with a fierce grip.

“I won’t remove your mask, I’m just going to take your pulse,” Yu’er said.

Qing Jiu’s grip remained tight, unsure whether it was her inability to control her strength or her disbelief in Yu’er’s words. The grip was so strong it felt like being clamped in a vise, as if her bones would crush.

“Fine, I won’t take your pulse,” Yu’er conceded.

After a moment, Qing Jiu relaxed her grip, reverting to a state of weakness.

Holding her, Yu’er felt Qing Jiu trembling and proposed, “You don’t trust me, but let me take you back to the city to see a healer.”

She was careful not to touch her with any more force than necessary, speaking as gently as possible, fearing that any more pressure might worsen her condition.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. Cradling Qing Jiu with one arm, she pulled a pill from her pouch with the other.

Six years ago, during the martial arts tournament, Mo Wen had tested three pills that could cure all poisons and heal all wounds, entrusting them to Yu’er for her recovery after being injured by Qin Gui’s music, to strengthen her constitution.

Since then, one pill was used when Qing Jiu was afflicted with poison, and another after she descended from the Moonless Sect. Now only this last one remained.

Thinking it might ease Qing Jiu’s injuries, Yu’er fed her the pill.

As soon as the pill was swallowed, a warm surge enveloped Qing Jiu’s chest, dulling the pain and allowing her to breathe more freely.

Moments later, weariness overtook Qing Jiu. Struggling to stay conscious, she pushed Yu’er away, trying to extricate herself from her embrace.

Yu’er was not holding her tightly and was unprepared, so she was pushed aside. Qing Jiu rolled out of her arms, staggered up, and managed to pick up Fenghou. She stumbled forward to a tree, bracing herself against it to avoid falling, sword in hand, facing Yu’er.

As Yu’er fell to the side, she noticed a corpse nearby, and the severed head of Du Zhong.

Startled, she exclaimed, “Du… Elder…”

After all, she had spent five years with Du Zhong, and he had taught her with care. She wasn’t heartless. Seeing Du Zhong’s dismembered body, she felt a sense of melancholy and sorrow.

“Did you… do this?”

After a pause, Qing Jiu replied, “A mission from the sect. Though Du Zhong’s swordsmanship is famed as transcendent, it was really quite ordinary.” Her voice was hoarse and unclear, her mouth filled with blood, as if she was on the verge of losing her voice.

Yu’er straightened, facing Du Zhong’s head. She bowed deeply, her movements respectful and reverent. Removing her outer robe, she spread it on the ground, carefully placing Du Zhong’s head upon it. She straightened his hair, wiping away the blood, before wrapping his head in the fabric.

Watching quietly from the side, Qing Jiu couldn’t help but ask, “That day, the people from the Xuanji Tower said you were his disciple.”

“I did learn my sword skills from him, but he never formally took me as his disciple.”

“Aren’t you going to seek revenge against me?” She intended to laugh, but just speaking those few words left her gasping for breath, too weak to muster even a smile.

Yu’er stood up, cradling the wrapped head in her arms, her gaze fixed on Qing Jiu.

During her time training with Du Zhong, Yu’er was unaware of past feuds. It wasn’t until later, when Yun Wangran mentioned the treasured Fenghou Sword and Hua Lian spoke of the Lin family’s tragedy, that she understood the enmity between Qing Jiu and Du Zhong.

In the five years Yu’er spent with Du Zhong, she realized that his death at Qing Jiu’s hands was, in fact, his release.

“You’re injured, and I’m not sure how much that pill helped. Just rest for now; I’ll stay here with you. Once you feel better, we can go to the city and find a healer.” Yu’er decided not to dwell on Qing Jiu’s question.

The sky turned a deep blue, signaling dawn was near, and the forest filled with the soft calls of birds.

Sweat soaked through Qing Jiu’s clothes from the torment of the poison, leaving her exhausted. She slumped against a tree trunk, resting her head on it, and glanced sideways at Yu’er.

Yu’er wanted to come closer but didn’t dare; she knew Qing Jiu was very guarded at that moment. Not wanting to add to her strain, despite her worries, she chose to sit quietly nearby without disturbing her.

“Why did you follow me again after I made myself clear?” Qing Jiu asked.

Yu’er collected some twigs and stirred the fire. “I came to pay my respects to Elder Du. I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Qing Jiu had much more she wanted to say, questions and anxieties swirling within her, but exhaustion pulled her under, chaining her to a restless slumber.

She was jolted awake by the sense of someone approaching. As she reached out, her hand found nothing; Fenghou was not within grasp.

She had been disarmed. Before she could react, chains clamped around her wrists.

She looked up at her attacker. It was Yu’er, her face inches away.

Qing Jiu jerked back in surprise, her head striking the tree trunk with a thud.

“Um, you…” she started to complain, but Yu’er reached out, gently massaging the sore spot.

Qing Jiu turned her head away, her mask hiding a flush of red: “What are you doing!”

“Although Elder Du was not my master, he had close ties with Mingjian Manor. He died by your hand, so we can’t ignore it. From today, you are detained, and once we’ve settled our affairs, we’ll take you back to Mingjian Manor for judgement.”

This wasn’t what Qing Jiu had asked, but Yu’er’s response left her speechless.

Yu’er attached a rope to the chains, took hold of one end, and helped Qing Jiu to her feet. “I apologize, Miss Zhi Juan. Your martial art is superior to ours, and we can’t subdue you by force, so we must resort to this method. Also, the Fenghou Sword will be in our custody for now.”

Qing Jiu looked to the side and saw Hua Lian, Tang Linzhi, and Jun Sixue there. Jun Sixue’s expression was grim as she approached.

Yu’er handed the rope to Hua Lian, who accepted it with a smile and said to Qing Jiu, “Miss Zhi Huan, don’t think about running away. In your current condition, you won’t be able to escape.”

“…”

Yu’er and Jun Sixue continued to talk ahead, while Hua Lian and Tang Linzhi kept a hold on Qing Jiu as they followed.

Jun Sixue spoke in a restrained tone, “Yu’er, although Elder Du Zhong wasn’t your master, he taught you for five years and passed on all his martial arts to you. He was no different from your master. This person killed Elder Du, and both morally and logically, you shouldn’t let her go!”

Yu’er responded calmly, “Second sister, you don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand? It seems to me you’re the one who’s confused! A vendetta as serious as killing one’s master cannot coexist under the same sky, yet you seem to ignore it!”

“Let’s not assume she killed Master Du,” Yu’er replied calmly. “And even if she did, it might have been a mercy for him. Regardless, I will protect her. No one will harm her. If you insist on revenge, Second Sister, I will defy you, even if it means disrespecting my elders.”

Yu’er tone left no room for compromise. Jun Sixue, taken aback by her sister’s unwavering resolve, softened her approach. “What do you mean by ‘a mercy’?” she asked. “People don’t just ask to be killed.”

“If you really want to know, ask Uncle Yun back at the manor. Even if I told you, you might not believe me.”

“…”

Yu’er then reassembled Du Zhong’s body and buried it behind the courtyard.

The group left the forest, where Jun Jimo and Jun Suyue were waiting with the horses, along with a large figure, Xin Chou.

After leaving Wujin City, Xin Chou stubbornly followed Yu’er, refusing to be dissuaded. Although everyone knew he was from Xuanji Tower, they bore him no ill will, as he had once saved Yu’er. They didn’t trouble him much, even though he was evasive about his intentions.

He remembered his promise to Qing Jiu to keep their secrets, but unfortunately, Yu’er easily coaxed the truth out of him without him realizing it.

Yu’er allowed him to come along. Now, seeing Qing Jiu again, Xin Chou was overjoyed, barely managing a smile before he saw Qing Jiu’s glance and quickly covered his face.

The group returned to town, and before departing, they took Qing Jiu to see a healer. Qing Jiu didn’t refuse this time, but the healer, after checking her pulse for a long time, couldn’t determine the cause of her condition, so the group had no choice but to give up.

Fortunately, although Qing Jiu’s injuries seemed severe the previous night, by the next day she was merely weak and showed no other abnormal signs. Still worried, Yu’er instructed the Jun brothers to gather all necessary medicinal herbs before they set off again, heading southwest.

Qing Jiu rode the horse, her hands chained, with Yu’er holding the rope on the other end: “Third Miss Jun, this path doesn’t seem to lead to Mingjian Manor.”

“Miss Zhi Huan, you seem to forget easily. I said we would return to the Mingjian Manor only after our affairs were concluded. We need you to accompany us for a while.”

Qing Jiu asked, “Where is Third Miss Jun taking me? What are we doing?”

After a pause, Yu’er said softly, “The esteemed disciple of Wuwei Palace, Yan Li, I wonder if Miss Zhi Huan has heard of her?”

Qing Jiu’s mouth twitched slightly, “I’ve heard a little.”

“Yan Li is our dear friend. Wuwei Palace and Jile City have come into conflict because of her. We’re going to Jile City first to find her and second to resolve the situation…”