Secret Recipe | Chapter 170 | A Silent Dawn | Novela.app

Xu Qiuchi felt as though he had walked a year's worth of paths in a single night. Dawn was approaching, but the entire deserted island remained shrouded beneath black clouds; there was no telling when the sun might finally break through. His boots, soaked through with muddy water, grew heavier with every step. Having long since lost his sense of direction, he could only feel his way along a stone wall, heading toward the loudest sound of rushing water. By the time he finally spotted the faint glow of lanterns, he was drenched to the bone. The vessels of various sects were moored quietly in the lake bay, appearing no different than when he had first arrived on the island. The only eerie thing was that the ships were now completely empty. Not a single disciple could be seen on the decks; aside from the oil lamps swaying at the bows and sterns, there was no sign of human activity. Where had everyone gone? Could it be... Xu Qiuchi’s expression shifted. He turned hurriedly, intending to retreat into the overgrown thicket behind him. But it was already too late. A cold voice rang out across the desolate lakeshore, coming from just a short distance behind him. "Who goes there? Why are you wandering here alone?" This was a deserted island, and tonight was a gathering of the martial world. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been out of place for him to be wandering alone, or even to have brought several others to practice martial arts or perform rituals. But the current situation was clearly far from ordinary. Xu Qiuchi feigned a headache, swaying slightly as he spoke with a thick, slurred tongue. "I am... an old friend of Abbess Hanchu from her days in the secular world. I drank a few too many cups before coming ashore and passed out. I only just woke up to find myself lost. If I hadn't run into you brothers, I wouldn't have known what to do. Please, show me the way..." He was certain that Abbess Hanchu would not suddenly emerge from those empty ships. He deliberately chose the most unpredictable and formidable sect in the Jianghu as his cover, hoping the others would turn a blind eye and let him leave. However, he was clearly unfamiliar with the conduct of the disciples of the World's Greatest Villa, and he had underestimated the severity of tonight’s situation. "The Xuanjin Sect?" A torch dipped in hemp oil flashed before his eyes. A tall man wearing the uniform of the World's Greatest Villa spoke coldly. "Abbess Hanchu entered the monastic life thirty years ago. Where were you even born back then?" As the tall man finished, the shorter man beside him narrowed his eyes. "Only nine members of the Xuanjin Sect came ashore today. You were not among them. Who exactly are you?" The interrogation was muffled by the rain. Xu Qiuchi rubbed his hands together, instinctively reaching for the coin pouch at his waist. But before he could move, his vision blurred as two sharp blades were leveled at his face. He froze. His usually nimble tongue was of little use now. He could only offer a forced smile. "Blades have no eyes, gentlemen. I am but an unarmed, idle young master. There is no need to act as if you are facing a great enemy..." The tall man remained expressionless, but the eyes visible beneath his bamboo hat were hair-raising. These men were the nameless, lethal weapons of the martial world, sharpened on human bone and tempered in blood; they would not have survived this long without genuine skill. In their eyes, those so-called "rising stars" of the Jianghu were nothing more than unpenned chickens—once stripped of their sect's protection, they possessed no deterrent whatsoever. And the man before them... was not even a featherless chick. The long blade in his hand twisted, its bright tip inching closer through the rain. "An intruder has invaded tonight. The Villa Master has ordered that any suspicious person be killed without mercy." Xu Qiuchi’s smile faded. He took a subtle half-step back. "Since when did the World's Greatest Villa act so recklessly? Have you considered that if I dared to come ashore, I would not have come alone?" The tall man with the blade smiled without a word. The shorter man made a show of looking around before speaking leisurely. "The wind and rain are heavy tonight. Your companion has likely lost their way. Your corpse won't be discovered until dawn. Countless people came ashore tonight, and there are thousands of blades capable of killing. Who would ever know what happened here at this moment?" "Second Young Master, you certainly made it difficult for this servant to find you." The shorter man’s voice cut off abruptly. It took a long moment before he turned his head. Atop the jagged stone cliff stood a green figure holding an oil-paper umbrella, as still as a willow by the lake amidst the curtain of rain. Cold sweat mingled with the rainwater on Xu Qiuchi’s forehead. His voice carried the weakness of profound relief. "What took you so long?" Liu Caiwu did not look at the drenched young master. When she spoke, her voice lacked its usual softness, replaced by a biting chill. "I have come to escort my master to the boat. Will you two make way?" The tall man did not move, but his long blade slowly turned toward the woman. The sound of wind and water had dulled his auditory judgment, but he could not deny that the newcomer possessed at least some skill in lightfoot techniques. Observing her attire, she was dressed as a maidservant of a wealthy household. Her face was no longer young, but she possessed a certain charm that made one's heart itch. A beautiful martial maid accompanying a scion of the bureaucracy—he was all too familiar with such combinations. But if the master could barely save himself, what right did a servant have to make demands here? The tall man sneered inwardly and spoke directly. "Which camp did you come from? You look like you’ve been away from the Villa for years. You’ve grown too accustomed to reciting poetry and admiring the moon with wealthy young masters. Naturally, you wouldn't know that the Villa is no longer what it once was. Why don't I show you?" Before he could finish, he lunged from his spot, heading straight for the woman in green. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, briefly illuminating the sharp blade in his hand. When the light vanished, his target was no longer there. The woman in green was suddenly standing in front of the soaked young master. The oil-paper umbrella in her hand was as steady as a great tree's canopy. The last trace of emotion had been drained from her voice. "I have come to escort my master to the boat. Will you two make way?" She repeated her previous words verbatim. There was an eerie numbness on her rain-streaked face. But in the eyes of a predator, evasion without retaliation was a sign of "weakness." They were trained like wolves and hounds; the more the prey fled, the more relentlessly they would pursue. "Your movement is decent, but I wonder how your skills are at serving men?" The tall man spoke frivolously, and the shorter man could no longer restrain himself. His gaze slid slowly from the woman’s slender neck down to her delicate waist. Such a beautiful body—even if it were stained with blood or lost a few fingers—would still be interesting. Liu Caiwu quietly scrutinized those nauseating stares. Something was about to surge from the depths of her eyes. There were many types of disciples within the World's Greatest Villa. Some had left the Villa early but never gained the favor of a master. After passing through many hands, their temperaments had long since twisted. They would seize any opportunity to torture the weak; no evil act was beneath them. They knew their lowly lives were destined for a dead end, but because they held blades in their hands, they would trample upon those even less fortunate without regard for the consequences. Only tonight, they had misjudged their own position. With a twirl, the umbrella was suddenly in Xu Qiuchi’s hand. Liu Caiwu sighed softly. "Di Mo’s taste has truly worsened over the years. He dares to let such eyesores out to embarrass him." Her voice was instantly swallowed by the crashing waves of the lake. A massive surge rose behind her, and the scattering mist wrapped around her green figure as she instantly closed the distance between her and the two armed men. Her hands were long and clean. Though she held no weapon, she carried the same chill as a blade leaving its scabbard. She did not retreat against their blades but attacked instead, as swift as a serpent, possessing both agility and lethality as her hands struck upward, darting into their sleeves. The moment the giant wave crashed down, the tall man suddenly shuddered violently. It was the sensation of five cold, rough fingers landing on his skin in succession—a shudder he could not evade no matter how he tried. In the next instant, a terrifying force surged through his flesh and into his bone. With a sharp crack, his broken wrist bone protruded beneath the skin. Yet the terrifying force did not dissipate; his skin split like overripe fruit, and beads of thick, glistening blood exploded outward like vermillion flowers washed by rain—evil and chilling to behold. A delayed scream pierced the rainy night, only to be diluted by the damp, heavy air and return to a dead silence. With a metallic clang, the tall man’s blade hit the ground. The sound of rushing air came from behind her. Without looking back, the woman’s hard, rough fingers instantly clamped onto the shorter man’s fragile neck. With a press of her fingers and a sink of her wrist, the man slumped into the mud like a de-boned loach. "This servant was used to heavy labor in her youth; my grip is a bit strong. You two won't blame me, will you?" The two men, trembling with pain and terror, looked up. Their gaze toward the woman was as if they were looking at a monster with eight arms and three heads. "The wind and rain are heavy tonight. You two lost your way and accidentally tripped, fortunately only breaking a hand." Liu Caiwu paused perfectly at this point, offering a cold, temperatureless smile. "If you had accidentally fallen to your deaths, your corpses wouldn't be discovered until dawn..." "Manager Liu." The young master, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice trembled slightly from the cold rain, but his tone was calm. "Tonight has been truly exhausting. Let us return to the manor early." The awakened killing intent went back to sleep in her eyes. Liu Caiwu slowly withdrew her hand, her slightly curved pinky finger rising to carefully tuck a stray hair behind her ear. "The Second Young Master is right. This servant shall take you away now." The two assassins remained silent in the darkness. Rain blurred their eyes as they could only watch the woman lead the man away. After a moment, the shorter man finally used his blade to push himself up. The fury of being humiliated made him want to give chase, but the tall man’s voice stopped him. "If you want to die, don't drag me with you." "But if the Villa Master finds out..." "Finds out what?" The tall man stood up, clutching his broken hand, listening intently to the surroundings. "We were ordered to patrol the lakeshore from the east to this point. During that time, we found no suspicious persons. Is that not so?" The shorter man did not argue, accepting this version of events. He looked down at the tall man’s horrific injury, the resentment and doubt in his eyes still lingering. "When did a master of the Dragon-Tiger Claws appear in the Jianghu? Why have I never heard of them?" "Dragon-Tiger Claws? I think you’ve gone blind staying at the Grand Preceptor’s estate for too long. Her wrist strength is extraordinary, and her palms can settle the heavens, yet she intentionally obscured her martial style. She wasn't trained in the Dragon-Tiger Claws. She practices palm techniques." "You mean...?" Reminded by his companion, the shorter man clearly remembered something, but then felt his thought was absurd. "But the former First Seat of the Luosha Sect disappeared into seclusion over twenty years ago. Even the Pearl-Washing Palm technique never made its way into the Villa. You must have misidentified her." "It doesn't matter who she is. You only need to know that even if we called over all the disciples of the Geng Camp patrolling the island tonight, we still wouldn't be her match." The shorter man shrank back for a moment. Finally, he shook the mud from his trousers and spat fiercely. "Some 'First Seat of the Luosha Sect'... now she's just a servant girl who belongs to someone else and follows orders. She is no different from us." And not just her—wasn't everyone in the Jianghu like this now? Rising stars, sect leaders, grandmasters of martial arts... in the end, weren't they all trapped in this crowded, murky pond, unable to move, unable to even turn their bodies? In this stagnant pool of a martial world, no one could escape the same fate. *** On the eve of dawn, the wind and rain ravaging Qionghu Island gradually ceased, and the dark clouds slowly dispersed. A boundary formed between the clear sky and the rain. At this moment, that boundary was moving slowly; light was returning to the land, and all things hidden in the darkness began to take shape. A night’s worth of rain had soaked the stone cliffs on the southeast side of the island, washing the grey-white stones until they were black and glistening. With the cliff as the dividing line, hundreds of people stood silently above and below, resembling a forest of stone monuments. On one side were the disciples of the World's Greatest Villa, looking as if they were all carved from the same mold; on the other were the various sects of the Jianghu. One side faced the lake, the other the cliff, and where they met, a thin trail of smoke rose. It was the trace of a finger-thick time-keeping incense stick burning—from a distance, it looked like an ink stroke dropped by the heavens, splitting the dawn in two. Everyone was silent. The old masters stood at the very front, neither advancing a half-step nor retreating an inch. Behind them were the bewildered young disciples. Those young disciples were far less composed than their masters. Their heads hung low, but their eyes constantly darted forward, filled with unease. They had stood motionless for over an hour; their limbs were stiff and uncomfortable, and their hearts were tormented. They cursed the blade-thief for the umpteenth time, whose actions had forced innocent people like them to undergo searches as if they were criminals. They wanted to complain and vent, but this moment before dawn was too quiet. For martial artists with superior hearing, even a low whisper would be heard clearly. The disciples of the Villa, lined up in a row, remained silently smiling, as if they could not see the anxiety or hear the internal grumbling. They were like clay funerary figurines guarding a tomb; they wouldn't even blink when there were no intruders, but the moment someone dared to step forward, they would instantly transform into killing demons. The unbearable, oppressive atmosphere grew heavier. Just as the fifth section of ash fell from the incense stick, a disciple from the Lingxiao Sect finally couldn't take it anymore. He took a step forward, intending to speak words of inquiry or reconciliation, but he heard his master cough fiercely. Chuyun was over eighty years old, his hair and beard entirely white. Usually, he spoke very little, merely nodding and smiling at everyone he met; one could no longer see the man who once took a single sword to Phoenix Tail Slope and slew seventy-nine members of the Sacred Feather Cult. But from that moment, he seemed to have become a different person. Killing intent was hidden within his pale beard; though it was only a cough, it carried the weight of a thunderclap, scaring the disciple back into place instantly. Seven or eight paces away, Abbess Hanchu stood with her hands behind her back, her thin lips pressed tight. Hearing the sound, she couldn't help but look toward the east. The gradually brightening horizon reminded her of a dawn many years ago when she had traveled north for a sword debate. Behind her, two or three young disciples were swaying in the wind, unable to endure the murderous atmosphere. She did not look back, but her iron staff rose and fell heavily against the ground. Those disciples immediately snapped to attention. Not far away, Monk Kongyin, who was thumbing his prayer beads, saw this and grinned. His laugh was no longer his usual peaceful, gentle smile; he laughed aloud, his voice rolling like thunder, making eardrums vibrate. This was how he had laughed when he and Fuhu had broken into the Mingshan Plum Forest Stone Array at night. A hundred paces away, Heavenly Master Fuhu of the Tiankui Sect scratched his ear, clearly reminded of some memories as well. He raised an eyebrow toward the habitually silent Mingshan Daoist diagonally ahead of him. The Mingshan Daoist’s headcloth was completely soaked by the rain, drooping to one side. Expressionless, he raised a hand to wring the water out before returning to his stance with hands behind his back. Seeing this, his disciples silently followed suit. Rainwater mixed with sweat vanished into the mist, giving off a faint, complex scent. That was the original scent of the Jianghu. The Jianghu was not a place of black and white. Most people were neither innocent nor entirely evil. To enter the Jianghu was to sever the shackles of secular rules; life and death were but matters for a laugh, and grievances could be settled over a cup of wine. No one had expected that the murky waters of the Jianghu would one day turn into a sea of blood. And the beginning of it all was that *Andao Military Manual*, which no one had ever seen with their own eyes. It was only natural for martial artists to pursue the highest realm of their craft, but while there should have been ten thousand paths to that exquisite peak, those with ulterior motives had turned it into a single-log bridge made of gold. They had driven people by their own desires, forcing them further and further down a bloody, narrow path. A manual, a manual—it was nothing more than ink dropped on paper. It couldn't even compare to an unsharpened sword or a rusted blade, yet it could claim so many lives. In the end, it was not blades that killed, but the hearts of men. At this very moment, behind the cliffs on the southern shore of Qionghu Island, a yellowed old book was being rushed toward a boathouse. The inner pages were made of the cheapest thin leather-paper, with indigo paper for the cover. It was spread open from the middle, pinned to a writing tray by a dagger. The tray was held by a Villa disciple whose feet hurried across the wet deck. The deck led to the quietest boathouse on Qionghu Island tonight. This was the ship of the Master of the World's Greatest Villa. It had been anchored here for three days. There were only a dozen or so people on board, yet they were worth half of the Jianghu. Suppressed coughing came from within the boathouse behind heavy curtains. Hearing the sound, the Villa disciple lowered his head. He waited until the coughing stopped, then waited a moment longer before announcing in a low voice. "Villa Master, I have an important matter to report." The dim boathouse remained silent for a moment. Three layers of floor-length curtains were pulled aside, and a young, expressionless face peered out. After carefully confirming the man's identity and the item in his hand, the young man stepped aside to let him enter. Three specially made copper braziers sat atop charcoal fires, filling the boathouse with steam. Di Mo looked up from within the mist. His emotionless eyes were bloodshot, looking like two cracked stone spheres. They turned slowly before stopping on the disciple’s face, as if trying to identify who he was. As an unremarkable disciple of the Yi Camp, it was perfectly normal for the Master not to recognize him. "Greetings, Villa Master." He held the tray with both hands and performed a full bow, then carefully looked up. "I was promoted to the Yi Camp just last month. When the Villa Master selected men for this Sword Appreciation Assembly, I was specifically transferred from the camp..." "The Villa Master’s time is precious. You had better truly have something important to report." The young disciple standing by the curtain spoke suddenly, his voice carrying an unmistakable warning. That was a disciple of the Jia Camp. Although he wasn't one of the three who most frequently accompanied the Master, he was still someone the Yi Camp disciple could not afford to offend. No matter. He was still young; he had plenty of time to wait for an opportunity to "show his face." With that thought, he lowered his head again. "Wang Mang’s disciple from the Guishui Gang came seeking me in secret just now. He claimed that last month, he found a half-burned secret letter in his master's room. After piecing it together, he discovered it contained news regarding Lord Yan. It mentioned that Lord Yan would personally come to Jiugao City this time and wanted the Guishui Gang to help clear the water routes outside the city, presumably to prepare for a withdrawal. After hearing the Villa Master’s reminders at the Opening Ceremony tonight, the disciple felt awakened and came to inform us." As he reported, he first presented the letter tucked under the writing tray. "He did not dare come in person, so he entrusted me to deliver this secret letter to the Villa Master. He said his master is getting on in years and has become increasingly stubborn. Perhaps because he once received a favor from Sun Yan in his early years, he was momentarily confused. The disciple could not bear to see his master deceived any longer, and to save his sect from ruin, he..." Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a fit of raspy laughter. Di Mo’s figure swayed slightly in the mist, making his laughter sound ethereal, interspersed with the sound of wheezing. It sounded like a leaking suona horn. After all these years, traitors still used the same rhetoric. The speakers never tired of it, but the listeners were weary. "Leave the things. If there is nothing else, you may go." After saying this, Di Mo slowly closed his eyes, as if he didn't want to say another word. Was news of Lord Yan not a major matter? Why was this different from what he had imagined? The young disciple kneeling on the floor did not move for a moment, but the sweat on his forehead betrayed his anxiety. However, he quickly adjusted and presented the item he had been holding up the entire way. "In addition, there is one more matter for the Villa Master to decide. The Villa Master said that a show must be played to the end, so I took men to board their ships just now, making a show of searching. I hadn't intended to stay long, but I actually found something." Di Mo’s gaze flickered over the book spread open on the tray. "What is this?" "Reporting to the Villa Master, this is a document written by Tang Xiao himself years ago. Please look, Villa Master." A brief silence fell over the room. He waited anxiously for a moment until a hand finally picked up the book pinned by the dagger. Di Mo’s fingers flipped nimbly through the pages. He used to deal with various documents every day; he was originally more familiar with these things than with blades. The book merchant who printed this volume was very cunning. The cover bore the name of a common historical miscellany from the Yuzhou area, and the first few pages were indeed local gazetteer records. However, by the tenth page, the content suddenly changed. One would never notice without a careful look. The kneeling disciple could not hide a small sense of pride. To show how thorough he was, he had specifically turned to the most scandalous page. The sharp dagger had pierced through the pages, leaving a scar over the dried ink and stabbing through a person's name. "Li Qingdao?" "Exactly." The superior finally spoke. The disciple stole a glance at his expression and hurriedly continued. "I heard that Tang Xiao praised Li Qingdao excessively back then, wishing he could push him to the pinnacle of the heavens. These old scoundrels of the Jianghu don't dare to oppose the Villa Master openly, but they hide these forbidden records in private. They must be birds of a feather with that Qingdao, and given the chance, they will surely rebel..." The thin volume was quickly flipped to the end. Di Mo suddenly looked up. "Why is there only half a volume?" The young disciple could not hide his shock. He clearly hadn't expected this question and answered with some hesitation. "I only found half a volume during the search. I thought that even half would be enough to prove their treacherous intent, so I came to inform the Villa Master immediately. It is my fault for being impatient. If the Villa Master wishes to pursue this, I will have it burned immediately—burned in front of them. That way, they won't dare hide the rest..." The air in the room seemed to grow even stiller. It was so quiet that he could hear the sound of Di Mo’s hand gently stroking the pierced page. In the next moment, the words that rang in his ear carried a bone-chilling coldness. "Tang Xiao’s mistake was never his evaluation of Li Qingdao, but his reckless spreading of rumors years ago without knowing the truth. Your mistake is not impatience, but acting on your own initiative. I do not like people who act on their own, and I especially dislike those whose hands reach too far." Di Mo’s gaze moved from the disciple’s plain face to his hands held high above his head. "You are but flesh and blood, not a blade. If you extend an extra inch, it will be cut off." With a thud, the disciple’s head hit the floor heavily, and his voice trembled uncontrollably. "I... I was wrong! I beg the Villa Master to forgive me this once, I will never do it again..." He confessed his mistake repeatedly, but in truth, he had no idea what he had done wrong. He didn't understand what was so strange about that book. Why had the Villa Master condemned the name "Li Qingdao" to eternal damnation at the Opening Ceremony, yet now struck this pose? He couldn't think of anything else to do but beg for mercy. After an unknown amount of time, Di Mo finally lifted a finger. The Jia Camp disciple nearby lifted the curtain. The figure on the floor dared not delay, scrambling out of the room. Di Mo lightly pinched the thin paper between his fingers, hesitating for a moment before turning the page. On the back of the page bearing Li Qingdao’s name was a somewhat messy freehand drawing. It vaguely depicted a woman who had lost her hairpins and jewelry, sleeping soundly with a blade in her arms behind some strange rocks. A few wine jars were scattered at her feet, and mountains and clouds rose behind her. Tang Xiao’s writing was outstanding, but his painting was truly unpresentable. If not for those wine jars, one might have suspected it was a drawing of Abbess Hanchu. The corner of Di Mo’s mouth twitched. He hadn't smiled in so long that he had forgotten what it felt like. And that woman’s favorite thing in life was to laugh heartily. He could still remember her laughter, yet no matter how he tried, he could not recall the look of her face. She was a person who was extremely difficult to capture with ink and brush. She should have turned into a cloud of rain, a gust of wind, a beam of light—no shape could ever bind her again, and no one’s longing or obsession could ever keep her. Yet, though he could not find her, she had never let him go. Like this silent dawn of the Jianghu, she punctually renewed his shadow every day, pulling the darkness from his body and exposing it for all to see. "Villa Master, does the matter of the Guishui Gang need follow-up? I can personally lead men to Jiugao City to intercept Sun Yan, if the Villa Master commands." Perhaps because Di Mo had been silent for so long, or perhaps because of the expression on his face, the Jia Camp disciple, who was usually good at reading the room, finally couldn't help but ask for orders. Di Mo withdrew his gaze from the paper. He tucked the tattered book into his robes and spoke. "I have already made arrangements in the city. In fifteen minutes, let those people leave one by one." He paused, then said listlessly, "Keep the informant from the Guishui Gang. Send him into the lake to feed the fish." He loathed traitors so much—not because he had been betrayed, but because their existence reminded him of the self that had turned from sincere to base. As soon as Di Mo spoke, the usually steady Jia Camp disciple couldn't help but shudder. Unlike that fool from the Yi Camp, he was usually very aware of his place. He would remain silent unless the Villa Master explicitly spoke. But not long ago, the Villa Master had seemingly argued with the Shadow Envoy in the Grotto of Vastness and then had the envoy severely punished. He had sensed an opportunity and felt an itch in his heart. Only after the words left his mouth did he realize his mistake, and a layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on his back. Di Mo had already turned his gaze toward a red lotus in the mist. "How is it with Zhu Fuxue?" "According to the Villa Master’s orders, we diverted some personnel and allowed Jia Thirteen onto the Luosha Sect’s boat. I just don't know if Zhu Fuxue has noticed..." "Whether she notices or not is unimportant. What matters is that Jia Thirteen will definitely kill her. That is enough." Di Mo’s voice carried an unmaskable fatigue, but his eyes grew darker and brighter. "No matter how vibrant the color or how full the seeds, if a fruit is ripe but left unpicked, it will eventually rot in the pond." The young disciple bowed his head. "The Villa Master is wise." Di Mo stood up and walked straight through the narrow corridor at the back of the boathouse, step by step toward a massive wooden cage at the stern. He stopped before the only small window on the cage, then leaned in and asked softly, "The rain has stopped outside, and the wind has died down. Is Grandmaster Sheyi willing to accompany me for a walk?" The pale light of dawn filtered through the palm-sized air vent into the cage, illuminating a mess of silver hair. The owner of the silver hair seemed very slow to react, only looking up after a long moment. Beneath the silver hair, a twisted, ugly scar ran across two shriveled eyes. After a long time, a raspy, numb voice sounded from within the cage. "You are letting me out?" "I am taking you to see someone." Di Mo’s gaze swept over the other man’s ruined eyes as he continued meaningfully, "Someone you have wanted to see for a very long time." *** **Glossary** Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation --- | --- | --- 琼壶岛 | Qionghu Island | The setting of the current events. 天下第一庄 | The World's Greatest Villa | The powerful organization led by Di Mo. 柳管事 | Manager Liu | Liu Caiwu's title while serving Xu Qiuchi. 落砂门 | Luosha Sect | A martial arts sect; "Luosha" literally means falling sand. 洗珠掌法 | Pearl-Washing Palm | A unique martial technique of the Luosha Sect. 安道兵谱 | Andao Military Manual | A legendary and controversial martial arts manual. 舍衣宗师 | Grandmaster Sheyi | A mysterious, imprisoned martial arts master. 狄墨 | Di Mo | The Master of the World's Greatest Villa. 公子琰 / 孙琰 | Lord Yan / Sun Yan | A key figure being pursued by Di Mo. 唐啸 | Tang Xiao | An author/scholar of the martial world mentioned in the text. 李青刀 | Li Qingdao | A legendary figure praised in Tang Xiao's forbidden records. 龙虎爪 | Dragon-Tiger Claws | A martial technique mentioned by the Villa disciples. 九皋城 | Jiugao City | A city mentioned as a destination for Lord Yan. 鬼水帮 | Guishui Gang | A minor sect/gang involved in the plot. 王尨 | Wang Mang | The leader of the Guishui Gang.