Chapter 56

The night was deep and still, with a bright moon hanging high in the sky.

Most of Xi'an Prefecture had drifted into slumber, leaving only the streets west of the city—where red lanterns hung high—still alive with song, dance, and bustling noise, all the more accentuating the ancient city's quiet stillness.

A dozen or so dark figures suddenly appeared on the rooftop of the Xisheng Inn. Light as swallows, masked, and carrying crossbows on their backs, they quickly dispersed across the various corners of the courtyard.

Under the cold moonlight, the arrowheads gleamed with a bright, chilling light, silently radiating a murderous intent that sent shivers down one's spine.

A tall, imposing man, eight chi in stature, strode to the center of the courtyard and bellowed in a deep voice, "Zhao Ling, come out at once and face your death!"

Though his voice was low, it bore down on the courtyard like Mount Tai, exuding a fierce killing aura that even Mo Yi, hiding inside the house, could feel. "Who is this man?"

"Lin Chi, the Marquis's personal bodyguard."

Mo Yi was taken aback. "The Lin Chi they call the best in the Northwest?"

Tao Mu nodded.

Mo Yi let out an "Oh" and silently moved to the window, pushing it open a crack to peer outside. "When masters clash, it would be a shame not to witness it." Before he even finished speaking, he heard the creak of a door, and Zhao Ling stepped out, sword in hand.

Under the moonlight, his expression remained unchanged, as steady and immovable as a mountain.

Lin Chi leaped into the air, his sturdy frame as light as willow catkins, his crescent moon blade flashing like lightning with a piercing shriek as it arced through the sky toward Zhao Ling's head.

With a clang, Zhao Ling raised his sword in a seemingly unhurried motion, yet it met the descending crescent blade at precisely the right moment. Lin Chi, as if struck by some unseen force, was sent flying back a zhang, stumbling several steps before he could steady himself.

"Impressive skill!" Tao Mu exclaimed, his expression shifting as he moved to stand beside Mo Yi.

Mo Yi sneered. "What good is skill? As long as we lure him into the courtyard, he won't escape."

As they spoke, the two had already exchanged seven or eight moves. The clanging sounds rang out without pause, crisp as metal striking stone, pleasing to the ear—yet Mo Yi and Tao Mu, standing by the window, felt a heavy pressure bearing down on them, making it hard to breathe.

"Truly a clash of masters." Tao Mu's eyes lit up.

Lin Chi's blade danced with the ethereal grace of a celestial being, while Zhao Ling stood like an ancient temple, unmovable as a deep abyss. No matter how elusive Lin Chi's attacks were, Zhao Ling merely swung his sword casually, and Lin Chi would land awkwardly, as if cast down from the heavens.

Who was superior was already clear.

"This won't do!" Tao Mu said in a low voice. "Forget about forcing Zhao Ling into the courtyard—the question is how much longer Lin Chi can even hold on." He turned to Mo Yi and asked, "Didn't you say Zhao Ling was injured internally? Who took his pulse?"

"Qu Yunxiang." Mo Yi kept his eyes fixed on the scene outside.

The top expert by Sixteenth Master's side, skilled in medicine.

Tao Mu no longer doubted it. He frowned and pondered for a long moment before saying, "We may need to reconsider our plans regarding Zhao Ling."

Mo Yi caught the implication and turned his head. "What?" His face was full of surprise.

"We underestimated Zhao Ling." Tao Mu's expression was grim. "Our options now are either to step in and help Zhao Ling fight Lin Chi, putting on a show for him, or to side with Lin Chi and strike Zhao Ling by surprise—we must kill him tonight."

Mo Yi hesitated for a moment.

Was Zhao Ling truly that hard to deal with?

Suddenly, the sound of arrows whizzing through the air filled the courtyard, dense as a sudden downpour.

Both men's expressions changed.

No matter what they thought, tonight could only end one way.

Zhao Ling had walked to the center of the courtyard, and the Divine Crossbow Battalion had made their move.

Mo Yi and Tao Mu's gazes instinctively turned outward.

Under the bright moonlight, the arrows streaked like shooting stars, while the sword light flowed like a ribbon of white silk.

The meteors tore through the night, crashing into the white ribbon that enveloped Zhao Ling, producing a series of clanging sounds before falling spent at his feet.

Lin Chi stood straight beneath the eaves, but his crescent moon blades—his very life—hung limply at his sides.

Mo Yi and Tao Mu's faces changed simultaneously. One grabbed a nine-ring broadsword, the other drew a flexible whip from his waist, and both sprinted toward the door.

But then Zhao Ling let out a clear, phoenix-like cry, and suddenly the quiet Renshou Street erupted with the loud, clanging sound of gongs, mixed with a hoarse, duck-like voice shouting, "Help! Someone's robbing the Xisheng Inn! Help! Someone's robbing the Xisheng Inn!"

The two men stopped in their tracks and exchanged glances.

A clamor of footsteps came from Renshou Street, along with gruff, impatient shouts: "Who's making all that racket in the middle of the night?"

The duck-like voice, hoarse yet piercingly clear, spread in all directions: "Officers! Officers! There are thieves with weapons robbing the Xisheng Inn!"

With weapons, they weren't mere thieves—they were bandits.

"Where? Where?" The street was filled with tense shouts.

Tao Mu smiled wryly in resignation. "Let's hope Lin Chi still has the strength to get out of here."

"Should we help Zhao Ling?" Mo Yi hesitated, still reluctant.

Tao Mu shot him a deep glance, already pulling the door open: "Brother Zhao, what's happened?"

Lin Chi understood immediately and gestured to the crossbowmen hidden in the shadows. They withdrew like a receding tide, leaving not a trace behind.

Zhao Ling sheathed his sword but did not give chase. Instead, he flicked his toe, and with a flash of cold light, a broken arrow shrieked through the air and embedded itself in the front gate, trembling with a resonant hum like a peerless blade drawn from its scabbard.

Mo Yi, following behind Tao Mu, turned pale and felt a chill run down his spine. He paused for a moment before asking, "Brother Zhao, what's happened?"

Zhao Ling stood as still as a pine. At the question, he slowly turned his head. His expression was calm, and his dark eyes were clear as the morning stars at the edge of the sky.

"And this is?" He looked at Tao Mu with a slight smile, one that even carried a hint of warmth and friendliness. Yet beneath the pile of broken arrows surrounding him, Tao Mu inexplicably felt a bone-piercing chill that numbed his hands and feet.

Tao Mu stepped forward with a smile and clasped his fists in greeting: "I am Tao Mu, sworn brother of Manager Mo..."

...

Questioning, signing confessions—it wasn't until the sky was fully bright that Zhao Ling, Mo Yi, and Tao Mu finally walked out of the yamen.

Zhao Ling clasped his hands in salute to Mo Yi and Tao Mu: "What plans do you two brothers have? If you don't mind, allow me to host you for an early meal?"

The two returned the salute and were about to speak when the innkeeper, who had been released, chased after them.

"Master Mo, Master Mo," he wailed as if mourning his own parents, "what on earth is going on? Who exactly have you offended? How could these be military crossbow bolts?" He grabbed Mo Yi's arm. "You must bear witness for me before my master—this has nothing to do with me! I'm just an innkeeper..." He refused to let Mo Yi go no matter what.

The courtyard had been rented in Mo Yi's name, so naturally he would come to Mo Yi.

Mo Yi's forehead bulged with veins. The argument had already drawn a crowd, and under everyone's watchful eyes, how could he lose his temper!

Zhao Ling stepped forward with a smile: "Brother Mo, it seems I'll have to invite you another day. It's getting late—I still need to hurry to the Shaanxi Regional Military Commission to pay my respects to Lord Wu Xin, the registrar." With that, he gave Tao Mu an apologetic nod and turned to leave.

Tao Mu pressed his hand to his forehead.

Mo Yi couldn't help but curse, "Damn it!"

The innkeeper's face changed at the words: "Master Mo, I respect you as my honored guest—how can you insult me like this..."

Listening to the chaotic noise behind him, Zhao Ling felt as though he had shed a heavy shell that had been weighing on his back. He had never felt so light.

If not for Ninth Miss of the Fu family causing her mischief, stirring up Yucheng and Sanfu and the others to stay at Xisheng Inn—would he have reconsidered this matter?

Probably not!

All along, what he had yearned for was to return to Jiangnan, to that place always shrouded in misty rain, where even breathing carried a damp flavor... He had never once thought of taking a step back.

But Ninth Miss of the Fu family had inadvertently touched his soft spot.

Jiangnan was important, yes—but not as important as the brothers who had followed him through life and death, not as important as A Sen, whom he had raised with his own hands.

He had to reconsider this matter.

Allying with Sixteenth Master carried enormous risk, but it was also a rare opportunity.

Gansu Regional Commander, Shaanxi Regional Military Commissioner, Guangdong Regional Commander... What other cards did Sixteenth Master hold?

The relationships were so tangled and complex—yet that might well be his opportunity.

If he succeeded, whether he returned to Jiangnan or not would no longer matter.

Zhao Ling stopped in his tracks and smiled amid the crowd. The smile carried a tenderness he himself did not know of.

If he refused, she'd have Yucheng shamelessly pester him; if that failed, she'd find a way to steal his name card and force him to go see Wu Xin... Thinking things through so simply, like a child's game—such an idea could only come from someone as fearless as Ninth Miss of the Fu family, a newborn calf unafraid of tigers!

Fu Tingjun's flower-like, radiant face suddenly surfaced in his mind.

She should have received the news by now!

She must be so pleased, wouldn't she?

Suddenly, he wanted very much to see her, to see her smile.

Would she show the smug look of someone who'd gotten her way? Or would she pretend ignorance while hiding a sly, cunning smile behind his back?

Zhao Ling found himself looking forward to it.

Someone beside him called out loudly: "Young master, are you buying or not?"

Zhao Ling followed the voice.

A burly man carrying a fruit pole glared at him in dissatisfaction: "Are you buying or not? Say the word. Standing there in front of me like a door plank is blocking my business!"

The pears were golden yellow, the apples bright red, and the watermelons a lovely emerald green.

Mid-Autumn Festival was two days away. This was her first time away from home, her first time not spending the festival with her family, wasn't it?

At that thought, as if possessed, he pointed at the watermelon in the basket: "How many coppers for one?"

The fruit seller rolled his eyes: "Coppers? You think this is a year of good harvests? This is a famine year. Three taels of silver for one!"

...

Zhao Ling, carrying a watermelon, knocked on the gate of the residence on Willow Lane. Master Lyu, Madam Lyu, Yang Yucheng, A Sen, and Zheng San all crowded around excitedly.

"Ninth Master, are you alright?"

"Amitabha, you've finally returned safely!"

"Ninth Master, you should have seen the look on Mo Yi's face—it was green!"

They all chattered at once.

But his gaze fell on Fu Tingjun, who stood quietly under the eaves of the main hall.

She wore a moon-white Songjiang cotton jacket with a right-side lapel, a bright blue coarse cloth skirt, and her jet-black hair was casually coiled into a bun, adorned with two small jasmine flowers. She looked no different from the young women passing by on the street, yet she stood out like a pearl among stones, and he could not tear his eyes away.

Fu Tingjun widened her eyes at him. "Ninth Master, are you feeling unwell anywhere?" She looked him up and down, and seeing nothing amiss, continued, "Why are you back so early? Young Master Yang said you would go to the Military Command Office early this morning to pay your respects to Lord Wu. Did you not find him there?"

Her bright gaze made Zhao Ling feel uneasy all over. He lifted the watermelon in his hand. "Oh, I ran into a watermelon seller—quite a rare find—so I bought a few to bring back for the Mid-Autumn Festival. I'm heading to the Military Command Office now..."