Chapter 32
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Flying Dagger - 1
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The chaos spread across the entire area in an instant. The moment the spark ignited, the Dragon Star Clan resolved to crush the slums without mercy. Before Zhang Ping could even notice, their first targets were, predictably, the Girl and Bai Hui.
They aimed to pin down those two in one place while destroying everything else without leaving a trace behind. That was the essence of the plan devised by Man Guisujae.
"Aaaagh! They're coming this way! Run! Everyone, scatter!"
The long line of people vanished in the blink of an eye. Piercing screams echoed endlessly. Those who clumsily resisted were beaten into pulp, and the rest lost their courage and dispersed.
Some dashed into their homes, crying out for the Divine Maiden, Divine Maiden. Others flattened themselves to the ground, praying for it all to pass them by.
Urgent footsteps reached even the Girl. People swarmed her, pleading that if they got caught, it would be disastrous, begging her to run with them. Testimonies of terror swirled everywhere. Someone said so-and-so had been killed, another that they'd been crippled. We have to escape before we end up the same. Don't resist.
"Divine Maiden, you have to go! It might already be too late!"
"I know a good hiding spot! No one will find you there! Divine Maiden, hurry! You really have to go now!"
The Girl did not run.
Her gaze turned to the horizon. The sunset was sinking beyond it, vermilion flames spreading beautifully across the deep blue sky.
The Girl, quietly watching the evening glow, tilted her head upward.
The winter sky was transparent as ice, ruthlessly clear. Like the sky on that day when she'd picked forget-me-nots. Autumn, winter. The seasons had changed, the weather grown cold, but the sky remained utterly unchanged.
The Girl did not run.
She did not flee. That day, perhaps she had run the distance she would cover in a lifetime all at once. She'd sworn to the Mountain Immortal that her legs could shatter, that she wouldn't mind never running again.
As long as the breathing of the person on her back didn't stop, she would do anything. From Jiangming to her hometown, she ran without rest—a distance she could never have dreamed of normally. Her chest felt like it would burst, her vision spun, but she kept pushing forward, one foot after another.
"This place is dangerous! They say the Flying Heaven Golden Blade is coming!"
"Hurry and escort the Divine Maiden! What are you doing?!"
Noisy voices rang out. Her pitch-black eyes, like ink, descended from the sky to the ground amid those desperate cries filled with earnest pleas.
She stroked the head of a child clinging to her sleeve, sniffling. A beautiful voice whispered.
"Run away, child. It'll be alright."
The Girl did not run.
After Gangil died, she had fled to the mountains. Denying reality, convinced it was all a dream. Desperate to save her life, she climbed against the falling leaves.
The warmth of that blood, the chill of Gangil's final touch, and the warrior coming to kill them.
The place where she collapsed in exhaustion was the shrine everyone had built, dedicated to the ancient god. The Girl prayed desperately for salvation. She poured her entire heart into pleading with the divine.
First, to save Gangil. Then, to save herself. Finally, because she still didn't want to die.
Was there salvation in the place she fled to?
She could die. She knew that.
She had known it since the first time she tore out a martial artist's heart. This time she got lucky, but next time? And the time after? When the heart's energy finally ran out, a miserable end would surely await her.
Yet the Girl trusted the heart's resentment. There was no room for any other emotions. Not even the fear of death.
She thought: It's like I'm broken somewhere.
"I'm not going anywhere."
The Girl did not run.
Suddenly, the street fell silent. The refugees, gripped by fear, had vanished.
And a narrow alley stretched straight toward the spot where the Girl stood. The hand that had just been stroking a child's head now pointed toward the far end of the road. And then.
Sssaaaaek!
Kang!
A flying dagger forged of pure steel shot from the Girl's hand.
People called him the Flying Heaven Golden Blade. "Heaven-flying golden blade"—the title of Guangdong's greatest hidden weapon master was no empty rumor. Whenever conflict arose, he claimed one life per hand with unerring precision.
Thirty years old. After conquering Mount Bul's underworld, he abandoned his birth name for Yong Heisha. He boasted of combining three cool characters to hide himself, but the sharp ones knew. He craved the seat of the Black Dragon, lord of the underworld. Kill the Black Dragon—that was his ambition.
Greedily pursuing martial arts even at the cost of clashing with the Huangfu Clan. Selling the despised Mount Wuship stone first and foremost. A man forged from honest greed and ambition.
From an orphan of unknown origins to mountain lord of Mount Bul, he had achieved it all with a single flying dagger. An absolute peak master who could shake the jianghu.
"That greeting was a bit weak, huh? Sorry about that."
With those words, four menacing men emerged from the empty alleys all around. Each was a hall leader, battle experts right below the mountain lord. Ignoring pretenses and swarming without hesitation—that was the way of the unorthodox.
This was war. The only rule: mortal combat and victory. None of the four were careless. They had come prepared to stake their lives.
And was that all?
Standing right beside the Flying Heaven Golden Blade was the Black Shadow Sword. A renowned ronin swordsman from Anhui, glimpses of white lining flashed beneath his black cloak amid the drifting wind. The face hidden by the mask was handsome—no doubt the White-Clad Divine Hero, Nangong Dan.
The Nangong Clan bore the four characters "King of the Martial Forest" on their iron fist seal. The proud house named the emperor of swordsmanship had nurtured this dark blade, reaching the peak realm in his mid-twenties. In optimal conditions, he was forged to face even the heads of the Five Great Clans.
The Flying Heaven Golden Blade spat on the ground with a tut.
"They say true sword kings can infuse their blades with intent. Wish I could do that. If I could..."
Shuk. As his hand in dark leather gloves brushed his sleeve, a flying dagger rose. The gleaming gold was his signature weapon, the Chain Name Dagger.
"I'd be ripping that pretty face of yours to shreds right now. Damn."
Everything he had built had retreated at least thirty percent. He had lost his vanguard, his execution squad disbanded. Many of the Four Dogs had died, even Hong Gon. He had sown deep resentment among Mount Bul's refugees, erasing future gains. Worst of all, the face of his unorthodox sect—his very identity—had been thoroughly crumpled.
How much further would he be pushed? Yong Heisha suppressed his boiling rage and asked.
"Why did you do this?"
He didn't claim he had no grudge worthy of death. The Flying Heaven Golden Blade wasn't that pathetic. He had climbed to a position where he could easily crush the resentful and wronged.
What he wondered wasn't the motive, but the goal.
It was like a law. Those who painstakingly built power didn't discard it lightly. They saw two, three moves ahead. Clans, unorthodox sects, even the Nine Sects' Taoists atop their mountains—it was the same.
What gain was there in opposing the Dragon Star Clan now? No matter how he mapped the world's powers or pondered, no answer emerged.
What had that Girl taken while facing Mount Bul's night?
The Huangfu Clan's rising power with the Dragon Star Clan's fall? But that didn't explain the thirty-plus mid- and small-clan warriors killed in Jiangming.
If it was the Nine Sects' plot to check the Huangfu Clan, inciting the Dragon Star Clan would have fit better. What did the Girl have left? What did she want to take?
A mob of worthless refugees who knew no martial arts?
"Tell me. What do you want, you who pushed me this far? Whatever it is, I don't care. I'll crush it thoroughly in my name."
Refined resentment. Facing the hatred sunken deep into his voice, the Girl's lips curved into a smile.
Her pale skin seemed to glow in the sunset. She was staring straight at Yong Heisha.
Would he remember? No, of course not.
It was just that one scholar beside Yong Heisha who seemed lost in thought, as if trying to recall something. The man who had strutted about that day, sending off reinforcements.
I see. No one remembers. But she felt no injustice or sadness. Instead, a faint happiness rose in the Girl's heart. Like dancing, she raised her hand into the air.
"What I want..."
Reflected in her eyes: autumn rice paddies. Golden fields swaying in her hometown's breeze. Mountains ablaze with fall foliage and the festival that would soon follow.
The village elders, sometimes gruff but always kind, and her cramped little shop with nothing much to see. The rock they had always wanted to visit together someday.
The Girl trailed off. A strand of wind brushed her slender fingers. A fragment of silk-like breeze mingled in the clear sky—today felt just like that time. Not bad at all.
Gazing at the enemies surrounding her on all sides, her red lips formed a single word.
"Shine."
Where had he been? The man in the bamboo hat appeared like a shadow. His left hand rested on his sword hilt, ready to draw at any moment.
Not far in her memory: a moonlit night. The moment of despair behind prison bars etched clearly in her heart. The Girl's calm voice murmured, laced with just a hint of hatred.
"Let's burn the world."
The next instant, the blade shot forth like lightning.