Chapter 39
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Movement - 3
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A bright full moon rose over the pile of ashes. Dawn winds rustled through the charred remnants of wood. In the black sky, stars dotted like beads twinkled faintly, and only soft breaths resounded in the silence.
Through the soot-covered golden foil, pale skin like a corpse's and eyes black as ink came into view. The Girl gazed at the sleeping city.
The forest of dark pavilions.
"What are you looking at? Not sleeping?"
Bai Hui emerged from behind a half-burnt pillar. As always, he wore a bamboo hat and carried a strapped sword. He'd woken in the dead of night to find the Girl gone and searched frantically for her, so the relief underlying his gruff voice was impossible to hide.
"Enemies."
As the Girl turned, the brilliantly blooming full moon positioned itself behind her. So beautiful, Bai Hui thought.
A sentiment closer to awe than affection. But it was fleeting; Bai Hui soon furrowed his brow.
Was it just the sensitivity of dawn? Or had he not fully shaken off sleep, dulling his senses? It should have been the opposite for him now.
Bai Hui lightly circulated his demonic arts and sharpened his gaze. As expected, nothing unusual. Just the faintest shift perceptible only through the Thousand Kills Star's unique senses.
"Your skin... it's even whiter than before."
The Girl was paler now than when they'd first met. Worried she might be ill, Bai Hui's expression filled with concern, but she waved it off.
"Not a sickness."
"Then what..."
"Here."
A translucent hand pressed against her chest. The inner energy slumbering there stirred briefly, unleashing a ripple of qi. Even though it wasn't directed at him, the pressure felt suffocating. Bai Hui finally nodded in understanding.
He knew about it.
Bai Hui had fought four incense masters.
The world of peak experts was vast and profound, so even among peaks, they couldn't compare to the Flying Heaven Golden Blade Yong Heisha. That much was undeniable. Yet it was also true that they had clearly crossed the threshold into peak realm and commanded first-rate warriors.
Against masters versed in technique deployment and combat methods, mere superhuman senses alone couldn't secure victory. Overwhelming power was needed—power that could shatter skill.
Demonic arts and reverse blood paths fueled strength by igniting emotions. With every full circuit through the body's meridians, they scattered impulses and hatred. He'd felt it bone-deep: the whispers growing stronger with each sword swing, the searing pain stabbing his heart. The bizarre symptoms that only the sight of blood could soothe.
Bai Hui at least had the Thousand Kills Star's senses, but the Girl's battles lacked even that. She'd overcome utterly disadvantageous fights through transcendent talent in qi cultivation.
Again and again...
"The embers won't die out."
Over and over.
The Girl's expression didn't change. The same pitying gaze she once directed at Bai Hui lingered. But beneath it lurked an even deeper, intensifying hatred.
Zhang Ping had said such qi arts had never appeared in the world before. Who could know what effects the accumulating hatred would bring? And among them, the Girl was the most knowledgeable in medicine.
So perhaps...
Suddenly, she stepped forward. Her face drew close. Close enough to feel her breath.
As he hastily stepped back, the Girl whispered in his ear.
"Don't hesitate. Why are you hesitating?"
"I—"
"No."
The Girl pulled away again. Bai Hui couldn't collect himself. Her shallow breath still seemed to linger on his cheek.
"I made you hesitate. I'm sorry."
"You..."
"It's fine."
With a twirl, her long hair brushed his bamboo hat. The Girl turned back to gaze at the burning mountain. Following her eyes revealed Huangzheng Tower.
The symbol of the Huangfu Clan, the tower of the Iron Blood Fist King.
Iron Blood Fist King.
Bai Hui had never seen him. Only heard tales.
Patriarch of the Huangfu Clan, one of the World's Five Great Fist Masters. Those grandiose titles stirred nothing in Bai Hui. His senses remained fixed on Jiangming.
After slaughtering thirty in the Jiangming inn as the Blood Sword Wanderer, Bai Hui had viewed his life as borrowed. The Girl had given him strength, extending his life. Enabling his revenge.
He'd cut down whoever she told him to. That was all. Buddha or World's Five Great Fist Master—it didn't matter. His mind was as clear and still as a bright mirror.
But the Girl...
The Girl had seen him. That day. She'd felt his qi directly, seen it, sensed its colossal flow. She'd witnessed the difference compared to Yong Heisha's with her own eyes. Their martial realms were similar, but their natures entirely different.
Unlike Yong Heisha, who reached the pinnacle through flying blade techniques, the Iron Blood Fist King had cultivated ascending heart methods before he could even walk.
The colossal mountain etched deeply in the Girl's heart was immense. Larger and broader than any warrior she'd faced. And so.
"I just need to get stronger."
The Girl whispered in an utterly casual tone.
She wasn't alone anymore. She'd realized it fighting the Dragon Star Clan. This was the life she'd longed for. Giving strength to those who needed her.
Yet, precisely because of that.
It wasn't enough.
The steady flames endlessly burned, spewing inner energy. Yet it was still insufficient. She had no confidence in defeating Huangfu Hu.
So the Girl could only stare at the burning mountain. At her enemy.
"..."
In their brief exchange, she already felt her emotions softening. The accumulation of inner energy in her heart slowed. That couldn't happen.
She needed to grow stronger. More resolute. This wasn't the time for anything else.
"Sorry. Leave me alone."
Bai Hui bowed silently. Silence returned.
"Liquor."
In some inn on the burning mountain, a server hurried over wordlessly and placed a bottle of liquor before the man in white robes.
Wearing a cheap mask like one from a play and pristine white robes without a single stain, the man had been downing liquor steadily since morning. Martial artists being eccentric was nothing new, so no one in the inn thought it odd. Dawn drunkards among them were a dime a dozen.
Who would imagine he was Nangong Dan, the famed White-Clothed Divine Hero of Anhui?
"Kuh, good stuff."
Yet he was unmistakably Nangong Dan, the White-Clothed Divine Hero. And he was reading a small letter. Tied to a hawk's leg and flown in, it was written in a complex code only the Nangong Clan's hidden swords could decipher.
A secret code directly from the patriarch.
For the past month, he'd acted according to those codes. Sending letters to his close friends, reaffirming bonds with Huangfu Clan affiliates. Gathering people, drawing eyes to the burning mountain bloodbath.
And with each step, a vague plot took shape. What was the plan the patriarch envisioned, as Nangong Dan surmised?
The optimal move was too clear to ignore. Living the hidden sword's life of dirty work made it even more so.
Hidden sword—why must Nangong blood handle the ugliest, most dangerous tasks? It wasn't for simple secrecy or loyalty.
Only Nangong blood could comprehend the patriarch's true intent and leap in without hesitation. Only those born knowing how to conquer the world, versed in the emperor's path, could empathize with its necessity.
The stage was set, actors in place. All that remained was execution. After borrowing liquor to steel his faltering resolve, Nangong Dan would follow the Sword King's orders.
He didn't doubt the black hand. If an order came, there was always just cause.
His liquor-slurred lips finally spat out one word.
"Decisiveness."
If it must be done, no hesitation. If righteous, carry it out.
The Nangong scion recited the chivalry he'd learned.
Light returned to his dulled eyes. Thwack—he rose from his seat. Circulating pure inner energy to expel the drunkenness, a thick alcoholic scent filled the inn.
His eyes were somber, but his resolve unyielding. Leaving naturally, Nangong Dan tossed a money pouch from his bosom.
"Good food."
"Sir, this is too much!"
The server, flustered by the excessive weight, chased after him, but Nangong Dan had already vanished into the narrow alley. Flutter—his white robes turned pitch black in the blink of an eye around the corner. The White-Clothed Divine Hero Nangong Dan had instantly changed into the black shadow sword, the hidden sword's garb.
Slipping through the gaps between pavilions brought him to the slums. The man with the Azure River Sword kicked off the ground in fluid footwork, and soon his form vanished completely between rooftops. The hidden assassins of Dongying descended stealthily.
At the spot where Nangong Dan had disappeared, in an unnoticed alley crevice, a torn letter fluttered down.
If someone sharp-eyed found it and devoted endless effort to deciphering it, they could unravel the code in the heroically soaring script.
Written in a script dashing across the heavens were two characters.
Dead Stone.