Li Qiao opened his eyes in the dim light.
Torches on the surrounding walls had been lit, burning quietly. Yet, for some reason, the light felt unprecedentedly piercing, as if several suns were embedded in the pitch-black stone, making him dizzy and unable to look directly at them.
He didn't know how much time had passed since he lost consciousness. A fire seemed to be scorching his chest, his heart pounding as if it were about to burst through his ribs. A metallic, rusty taste of blood filled his mouth. Iron hooks wedged between his bones and sinews rendered him immobile, yet he could almost feel the vibration of blood rushing through every vessel.
Li Qiao spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm and looked up at the man directly across from him.
His vision blurred under the flickering shadows. He could barely make out the man's face, seeing only a hand extended over a brazier of charcoal, turning slowly as if seeking warmth.
It was a strange hand. Though elegantly shaped, the fingertips were tinged with a bruised purple, and the nails were withered and grey—the hand of a man deathly ill.
A moment later, those hands reached past the brazier and picked up the blade Li Qiao had dropped on the floor.
"Don't touch my sword."
The man did not stop. His withered fingers lightly brushed over the notch on the blade.
"I have heard that there was once a swordsman in the martial world known as the Azure Blade. His technique was peerless, his movements fast as purple lightning. When he killed, the blood flowing over the flame patterns of his blade looked as beautiful as a true conflagration. I wonder, if that arrogant, peerless Azure Blade were still in this world, would he be willing to walk the earth with such a rusted piece of iron?"
The youth lowered his gaze, inconspicuously adjusting his breathing.
"The essence of a blade lies in its invisible edge; it is not confined to the physical weapon. If you truly understood blades, you wouldn't speak such nonsense."
The hands finally withdrew, only to brush aside the stray hairs on the youth's forehead. Li Qiao tried to recoil in disgust, but the hand had already pulled away.
"If you hadn't stopped taking the Clear Wind Powder, I fear even all of them combined could not have restrained you just now."
The youth lying on the ground finally looked up at the man in the chair, a hint of disbelief in his eyes.
The man seemed indifferent to his gaze. He slowly removed a pouch from the armrest of his wooden wheelchair and gently untied the drawstring.
"Clear Wind Powder—to topple and seal. Those afflicted by this poison find their seven major acupoints sealed, yet their heart remains exceptionally strong. Their cultivation progresses much faster than ordinary people, without any risk of internal deviation. However, this powder is highly addictive. Once consumption stops, it not only subjects the user to agonizing torment but also causes their internal energy and techniques to wither day by day."
"The recipe for Clear Wind Powder is not easily found. Thus, one can only steal or snatch it from others. You are clever and cautious; you never stay in one place for long, moving on once you've obtained what you need. Yet, despite your best efforts over the years, the powder has become increasingly scarce, and the trail you've left in the martial world has grown longer. You finally realized this wasn't a long-term solution. So, upon hearing rumors of a secret recipe, you set foot upon the Qingping Path."
"Clear Wind Powder operates on a thirty-day cycle; it must be taken once every thirty days. Had you not been driven to a dead end, I imagine you wouldn't have shown your face at the Treasure Mirage Pavilion. Unfortunately, you were no match for me on the Qingping Path then, and there is even less point in struggling now. You fell into my hands today not because you underestimated your enemy, but because you had no other choice."
The blinding light made his head swim and his ears ring. The man's voice drifted in and out of focus. The youth dug his fingernails into the splinters of the wooden floor, using the sharp pain to regain a fleeting moment of clarity.
At first, he thought his tracks had been exposed because of the incident at the Abbey of the Beyond. Now it seemed he had been in someone's sights from the very beginning. The Qingping Path was merely the first meeting between hunter and prey.
In this martial world, there was only one entity that would never let him go.
"Are you from the Peerless Manor?"
The man did not answer. The youth quickly deduced the other's identity in his mind, using words to provoke him.
"Setting so many traps to capture me, yet refusing to state a reason or a name. So much rambling—it's truly pathetic."
The man shifted his posture to look at him, still appearing calm and unmoved.
"I know more about the Peerless Manor than you do. As for my name... I can tell you."
The moment he spoke, Lao Chen, who had been standing silently to the side, spoke up with a hint of anxiety.
"My Lord..."
The lord in the wheelchair lightly raised a hand, signaling him not to worry, then continued slowly.
"My given name is Yan. As for my surname... my headaches have been severe these past few years, and I've forgotten many things from long ago. If you don't mind, you may follow Lao Chen and the others in calling me Lord Yan."
As he relaxed, the aura of a refined, gentle nobleman returned to him. He possessed a face that looked kind and virtuous, yet his methods were such that even the most ferocious assassins in the martial world would fear him. For a moment, the youth could not tell if the man was lying or if he truly couldn't remember his own surname.
In the current Xiangliang, there were countless famous lords.
But in the martial world, there was only one place from which people emerged daring to call themselves "Lord."
The youth made no effort to hide his suspicion, his tone certain.
"The Peerless Manor currently has no Lords traveling abroad."
"What? You don't believe me?" The man smiled, his voice growing raspier. "Do you not believe I come from the Manor, or do you not believe I have truly killed a thousand men?"
"How many you've killed is none of my concern."
The man's voice was suddenly close. So close that Li Qiao seemed to smell the scent of decay on him, like the carcass of a wild deer killed days ago by wolves in the mountains.
"If you don't want to be the next one, you had better listen carefully to what I say next."
With a few crisp cracks, several chestnuts were tossed into the charcoal fire.
"Back on the Qingping Path, weren't you looking for something? I have now brought it to you. You must cherish it well."
A vermilion bottle was placed gently before his eyes.
The shape of the bottle was very familiar, but because the color was so different, it wasn't easy to notice at first glance.
Li Qiao suddenly realized the strange taste in his mouth might not be his own blood. It was...
"What did you feed me?"
"The thing you've been yearning for." The man's voice grew softer, yet each word made one's breath hitch. "You chased it all this way. Did it never occur to you that if it were truly a good thing, why would someone as shrewd as Yuan Shuqing send it all the way to the Autumn Mountain Sect?"
The youth's heart hammered like a drum, blood roaring toward his acupoints, but he still strained to think.
He had always been careful, never risking himself for suspicious matters. But that was when he had a choice. When one has few options, one must brave even the greatest risks. What if Yuan Shuqing felt his own strength was insufficient and feared drawing fire to himself? What if the Abbey of the Beyond, dedicated to cultivation, felt that a recipe of unknown origin and effect shouldn't be tested lightly, so they used the Autumn Mountain Sect as a trial?
He felt his deductions were not without merit. He had ultimately gone to the Qingping Path not because he had found the answers to these questions, but because he had enough faith in the blade in his hand.
"A sword has two edges; a blade has two sides. I believe it has the miraculous power to grow flesh on bone, and I believe it has the backlash of a karmic curse. It is so, Clear Wind Powder is so, and all the world's miraculous medicines and strange poisons are so. What have I to fear?"
Lord Yan gazed at the figure on the ground, his expression unreadable.
"You are right. But unfortunately, this is neither medicine nor poison."
If it wasn't medicine or poison, then what was it?
Li Qiao's internal question received no response. Lord Yan's voice rose again, sounding increasingly ethereal and hollow.
"In the beginning, it can make one feel refreshed, with sharp ears and clear eyes. One can travel by day and run by night without fatigue—until the first onset."
"From the moment of contact to the first onset, it usually takes several days for an ordinary person. But for a martial artist, it may be different; some can hold out for half a month, while others cannot last a few hours."
"After the first onset, it will give you some time to breathe. Just when you think everything is slowly getting better, it has already quietly invaded your internal organs. During the next eruption, it will push everything into an irreversible abyss."
"Your reason will be eroded, your consciousness will drift away, leaving only a shell driven by instinct. You will feel the agony of your vitality being drained bit by bit, and you will only want to fill yourself with something more vibrant."
"I grant this to you to give you a body that cannot be broken, worn down, or killed. Before you have tasted all the benefits and before you pay the price, you have approximately several months. During this time, you must be at my beck and call. Whenever I need you, you must exert all your strength and wisdom to complete the tasks I assign. If you harbor thoughts of defiance or betrayal, you will fall into a state worse than death."
The youth forced his eyelids open, looking up at the flickering figure in the firelight, and sneered.
"I have already seen the sights of hell. Kill me or hack me to pieces as you wish, but give me a quick end. Otherwise, you can wear out your lips talking, and I won't feel a shred of fear or hesitation."
However, his words seemed to pass by the other man like a breeze, causing not a single ripple.
"You will understand that compared to this, Clear Wind Powder is nothing at all." The chestnuts in the charcoal fire emitted a series of loud pops. Lord Yan's voice rose gently. "Look at these chestnuts in the fire. Until they are scorched and can no longer endure the torment, they will never crack their shells and surrender. People are the same. One can speak earnestly of the world's suffering or the fall of empires, and no one will pause for a moment. If you drive them with gold and silver, you only get those who seek quick profit. Rather than that, it is better to roast these profit-seekers over a fire. Once they have tasted the agony of burning, they will naturally do everything in their power to do what must be done."
The popping sounds faded as the chestnuts in the fire gradually turned black. The youth's eyes, however, were reflected red by the charcoal fire, like two signal fires burning in the long night.
"Man is not a chestnut. How can one willingly allow himself to be manipulated and roasted? As long as I live, you shall not sleep in peace. To the ends of the earth, I will find you one day..."
There was a moment of silence in the secret room. Then, Lord Yan burst into laughter, as if he had heard the greatest joke in the world, only stopping after a long while, breathless.
"Even if I hadn't crossed paths with you today, I already haven't slept in peace for a long time! I look forward to the day you come looking for me. When that time comes, try not to look too pathetic crying before me."
Having said this, he beckoned, and Lao Chen, who had been waiting nearby, approached with a lamp.
The oil lamp slowly drew near the youth on the ground, illuminating that face of suppressed resentment.
The youth had beautiful, light brown eyes. If he wished, he could fill those eyes with infinite charm to evoke pity. But at this moment, those eyes held only rage and murderous intent. On that softly contoured, somewhat boyish face, there was a discordant gloom and ferocity.
Or perhaps, this was his true nature.
"His expression is good. Lao Chen believes the Lord has not misjudged him."
Lord Yan did not seem particularly gratified or pleased upon hearing this, only letting out a soft sigh.
"Perhaps you can live a little longer than I."
The moment his voice fell, a slight vibration traveled through the surrounding wooden boards. After a moment of silence, it sounded again—something was slowly approaching.
Lao Chen's ears twitched. He bowed and said, "My Lord, the carriage is ready. It is time to leave."
The lord in the wheelchair lightly supported Lao Chen, then reached out and gently removed the lifelike fox mask from his head.
"Mr. Chen, you have worked hard these years. A building rises only for the day of the banquet; a banquet must eventually come to an end. Today is the final day. I trouble you to handle the aftermath."
Lao Chen's face, which had previously been dull, weary, and disheveled, trembled with suppressed emotion. Tears faintly traced paths through the stubble on his cheeks.
Taking a deep breath, Lao Chen dropped to one knee, performing a final grand salute.
"Lao Chen does not regret this journey with the Lord. If there is a day we meet again after today, Lao Chen will once more light the lamp and scout the way for you."
The previous sounds drew closer. This time, any martial artist in the secret room could tell those were the subtle footsteps that only well-trained warriors could make.
Lord Yan gave a slight wave of his hand. The four experts standing in the corners simultaneously pulled the chains in their hands. The four iron hooks tore out of Li Qiao's flesh and bone. Blood gushed out instantly, pitter-pattering into a pool on the floor.
The youth in black turned pale, but a light burned in his eyes that could not be extinguished. It was the instinct for survival, an infinite strength triggered in a moment of crisis.
A secret passage in the wall opened. The lord in the wheelchair turned his head one last time.
"Run. Use all your strength to escape. But I give you a kind warning: it is best not to return to those close to you. Otherwise, you will regret it."
A cold wind blew out from the secret passage, extinguishing the last trace of warmth in the charcoal brazier.
The next moment, the secret passage closed, and the entire room fell into darkness.
The sound of footsteps and the unsheathing of weapons drew closer and closer. In the darkness, the youth gripped his blade tightly.
***
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