By the time everything was in order, the sun had climbed to its zenith.
Yu Wenqiu stood on the steps of the Internal Affairs Hall, her eyes lingering for a moment on the brand-new waist-token at Gu Chengming's belt, then let out a long breath.
Crooking the fingers of her right hand, she tapped them lightly against her left palm and looked at Gu Chengming:
"Young Gu, since you've taken the post, you can now count yourself as having an official station to shield you… and yet, after the business of last night, my heart simply won't settle."
She paused, and her voice lost a touch of its usual languid ease:
"That evil thing came strangely and left even more strangely. A third-realm Nightmare Roving Corpse is by no means something an ordinary rogue cultivator of the heretical path could refine. The other side was clearly prepared, and knew our movements like the back of their hand."
"Although this Capital is pressed down by the dragon-aura and looks peaceful on the surface, undercurrents churn beneath it. What's more…"
"I keep feeling that this business isn't simply aimed at you, a newly admitted inner-sect disciple. Rather, it's as though someone is testing how far our Wenjian Sect can be pushed here in the Capital."
Gu Chengming dipped his head slightly; he was entirely of the same mind.
"What the Elder says is most apt. By the Elder's reckoning, what should we do for now?"
"I'm going to dig into it."
Yu Wenqiu drew a deep breath, like someone settling on a decision:
"The Wenjian Sect has worked the Great Qian for many years, so naturally we keep resident stewards stationed in the Capital. The two of us are fresh arrivals, blind in both eyes — we must first get word from them and ask which way the winds are blowing in the Capital these days."
"If our sect has truly offended someone without realizing it, all the better to prepare early. We can hardly let them shove their fist right into our faces while we still don't know who the hand behind it is."
At this, she glanced at Gu Chengming and added a word of warning:
"Since you've enlisted in the Night-Patrol Guard, you'll abide by the rules in there. The Night-Watch Bureau is, internally, fairly clean, and with Vice-Commander Liu looking out for you nothing too disastrous should happen… I'll be back soon. If anything urgent comes up, use the sect's secret transmission art."
Gu Chengming understood: "The Elder may go without worry. This disciple will watch his step here."
After seeing Yu Wenqiu off, Gu Chengming, led by Vice-Commander Liu, set out for the Night-Patrol Guard's station.
According to the Night-Watch Bureau's organization, the Night-Patrol Guard did not act as lone agents; rather, they took the 'small squad' as their unit for daily patrols and mission execution.
This system was both a way for members to look out for one another and raise their survival rates, and a way to pool complementary strengths to handle the bewildering variety of evil things they faced.
After all, every discipline has its own specialty.
Sword cultivators stood foremost in slaughter — but when one met evil things that required setting up an altar and performing rites, or that specialized in illusion or poison arts, even the best of swordsmen could find himself short-handed.
At such times, having teammates skilled in talismans, formations, or body-tempering working in concert could double the result for half the effort.
And as for inner-sect disciples sent down by the great sects to temper themselves in the world, the Night-Watch Bureau tended to slot them into the same squad together.
For one, these proud favorites-of-heaven set their hearts high and were not necessarily inclined to look up to colleagues of ordinary martial-warrior background. For another, this lot had many tricks and strong hidden cards; thrown together, they were unlikely to get into trouble.
So Gu Chengming had a fair idea of what sort of squad he was likely to be assigned to.
Vice-Commander Liu led him through several layers of courtyards until they came before a side hall called "Hidden Dragon Court."
"Here we are."
With that, the Vice-Commander patted Gu Chengming on the shoulder; he gave no sign of meaning to go in.
Gu Chengming straightened his robes and headband, reached out, and pushed open the great door of the side hall.
"Creak —"
The door-pivot turned with a soft sound.
Inside, the light was ample and the furnishings tasteful. Several grand official-style chairs were arrayed in pleasing disorder, and in the center lay a great map of the Capital.
At this moment, three men and one woman — four people in all — were already inside.
As Gu Chengming pushed the door open and stepped in, four gazes were cast his way as one.
Those four gazes held appraisal, curiosity, and indifference, by turns.
Gu Chengming's expression was as steady as ever. He stepped in, clasped his hands in greeting, and spoke without either humility or arrogance:
"Of the Wenjian Sect — Gu Chengming. A fresh arrival, paying his respects to all my colleagues."
After a brief silence,
a hearty laugh was the first to break the quiet.
"Hah! A fellow Daoist from the Wenjian Sect? Long have I admired the name, long have I admired!"
The speaker was a young man leaning sidelong against the window.
He wore a Daoist robe patterned with azure clouds in flowing streams, with a string of warmly lustrous jade talismans hanging at his belt. In his hand he held no sword, but instead toyed with a fire-red orb that spun ceaselessly in his fingers.
His face was handsome — sword-sharp brows over starry eyes — and every gesture carried a dashing, unfettered air.
He straightened up and crossed in a few strides to stand before Gu Chengming, cupping his fists in return. The motion was not strictly by the book, but it had a sincere warmth to it:
"This humble one is Song Qing, inner-sect disciple of the Tianding Sect. Word had it that a master from the Wenjian Sect was to arrive today — I never imagined he'd be so young."
The Tianding Sect?
A small ripple stirred in Gu Chengming's heart.
Within the lands of the Nine Provinces, the Tianding Sect too was a great and famous sect.
If the Wenjian Sect was the holy land of sword cultivators, then the Tianding Sect was one of the foremost houses of the arts cultivators. It was said their sect was perched above the clouds, masters of riding the wind and summoning thunder, their arts of the Five Elements worked to a divine pitch.
And what's more, the Tianding Sect was famously… rich.
Look at this Senior Brother Song Qing: his Daoist robe was woven from the finest Flowing Cloud Brocade, impervious to water and fire.
The jade talismans at his belt each glimmered with shifting spirit-light — clearly each a life-saving treasure. Even the orb he toyed with in his hand gave off a faint pulse of fire-spirit power, surely a second-tier upper-grade magical artifact.
"So it's Fellow Daoist Song."
Gu Chengming returned courteously: "The Tianding Sect's arts probe the profound and overawe the Nine Provinces — back in my home sect, my heart already inclined toward them in admiration."
"Ai, you flatter, you flatter."
Song Qing burst out laughing — clearly the sort to take to a stranger at once:
"What 'overawing the Nine Provinces' — we just rely on having a lot of talismans and being able to throw them far. When it really comes down to killing power, you sword cultivators are still the ones to watch."
At that moment, a somewhat stiff and reticent voice came from a corner.
"That… this one is An Shan, inner-sect disciple of the Hunyuan Sect."
The speaker was a powerfully built man sitting in the shadows in the corner.
His frame was extraordinarily massive, his muscles knotted in great cords, stretching the specially tailored brocade of his Night-Patrol Guard uniform taut and bulging. Standing up, he was surely well over two meters tall.
Yet now he was shrunk down into his chair, his two hands rubbing nervously at his knees.
"I greet Fellow Daoist Gu."
An Shan kept his head lowered, his voice muffled and thick, seeming not quite to dare meet Gu Chengming's eyes.
The Hunyuan Sect?
Gu Chengming was struck for a moment — wasn't that the sect of that senior, Hua Daiyi?
"My respects to Fellow Daoist An Shan."
Just as Gu Chengming was sizing up An Shan,
a slightly suppressed, light cough came from the host's seat.
"Cough, cough…"
The sound was thin and faltering, as if the man's lungs were short of breath.
Gu Chengming turned his head to look. There, in the host's seat, sat a young man with a pale face and a gaunt frame.
He wore a somewhat oversized brocade robe and cradled in both hands a steaming cup of wolfberry tea, raising a handkerchief to cover his mouth every so often to cough two more times.
With that frail, wind-might-topple-him appearance, it seemed a single gust could blow him over; one couldn't help worrying that he might keel over in a faint the very next second.
And yet, just such a sickly-looking young man was now seated steadily in the chief seat — the seat that represented the position of Banner-Leader.
When Song Qing and An Shan heard him cough, both of them instinctively dampened their expressions.
The young man set down his teacup, raised his eyelids, and spoke slowly, his voice not loud:
"I am the Banner-Leader of this squad. Inner-sect of the Hunyuan Sect — Li Dujiang."
"Welcome aboard."
The Hunyuan Sect again?
Now Gu Chengming was truly astonished.
That Hunyuan Sect — every member a body cultivator, even a stray dog that happened past would catch two slaps from them — had produced a disciple who looked even frailer than he himself had been back when his Constitution was at 2?
Or was it that this Senior Brother Li was practicing some kind of profound 'break and then build anew' or 'return to the simple and original' method?
"My respects to Senior Brother Li."
Gu Chengming pressed down his surprise.
To serve as Banner-Leader in a squad made up wholly of inner-sect disciples from the great sects, this was no simple character.
This Li Dujiang looked weak, but he must surely be cultivating some special method?
Li Dujiang nodded and said no more; he picked up his teacup again and took a sip, as if even saying a few more words would drain his strength.
Finally,
Gu Chengming's gaze fell on the lone woman in the hall.
She had been standing by the window all this while, her back to everyone, seeming to look out at the scenery beyond.
Her figure was small and trim, dressed in close-fitting attire convenient for action, her long hair bound up high — altogether the picture of brisk capability.
Feeling Gu Chengming's gaze upon her, she slowly turned around.
Hers was a rather delicate, pretty face, save that between her brows there lurked a sharpness she could not hide.
She did not return his greeting as the others had done; instead, she looked him up and down with a gaze that was almost an inspection, even tinged with hostility.
That look was the look one gives to a foe who had stolen from one's home.
The woman snorted coldly, her chin lifting a touch:
"Yunyue Sect — Feng Ya."
At these words, the atmosphere in the hall congealed for an instant.
A realization came over Gu Chengming.
No wonder, from the moment he had stepped through the door, he had felt a faint, half-glimpsed thread of hostile gaze.
So she was a disciple of the Yunyue Sect.
A few months ago, on the Sword-Questioning Stage, he had thrashed Li Mozi to within an inch of her life — not only winning the match but trampling all over the Yunyue Sect's prestige.
Though the feud had been picked by the Yunyue Sect first, in the eyes of Yunyue's disciples Gu Chengming was without question the ringleader who had brought shame upon them.
He had never expected such a narrow road for enemies to meet — that they would run into one another here, of all places, in the Night-Watch Bureau of the Great Qian.
Gu Chengming's expression did not change. He neither flared in anger at her hostility nor yielded just because the other was a woman; he merely murmured a sound of acknowledgement.
This attitude promptly choked back into her throat the bellyful of barbed words Feng Ya had been ready to fire.
"You —"
"Cough, cough…"
From the chief seat, Li Dujiang produced another exquisitely timed light cough.
"Once you've joined the Night-Watch Bureau, you are comrades-in-arms."
His voice was still feeble: "Private grudges are not to be brought into official business."
Hearing this, Feng Ya's complexion shifted; in the end, she only glared bitterly at Gu Chengming, turned her face away, and said nothing more.
Yet inwardly, Gu Chengming was shaking his head.
The personnel arrangements of this Night-Watch Bureau were really overstepping the bounds of daring.
Stuffing inner-sect disciples from two ancestral-enemy sects like the Wenjian and Yunyue into the same squad — were they not afraid the situation might blow up into an inter-sect diplomatic incident?
No, wait…
Gu Chengming suddenly recalled what Elder Yu had said to him at noon.
If there really were people in this Capital who had it in for the Wenjian Sect,
then this arrangement was perhaps not done carelessly at all — it might be deliberate…
The setting sun dipped to the west, and the heavy black walls of the Night-Watch Bureau were rimmed in a coat of dim, golden light.
This first meeting in the Hidden Dragon Court drew to a close in a subtly strange atmosphere.
Li Dujiang still cradled that cup of seemingly never-emptying wolfberry tea, coughing lightly now and then; that sickly air made one almost ashamed to speak any louder around him. An Shan, for his part, shrank back into his corner doing his best to dampen his own presence.
As for that Senior Sister Feng Ya of the Yunyue Sect — in the end, before leaving, she could not quite restrain herself. Passing by Gu Chengming, her steps paused just a fraction.
She turned her head sideways. Within those slightly stern phoenix eyes there was no warmth raised by the bond of fellow comrades; instead, that long-suppressed, sharp-as-thorns-in-the-back sense of appraisal grew only more piercing.
"Junior Brother Gu."
Feng Ya's voice was very low, edged with a frigid chill:
"While Junior Sister Li Mozi recuperated in the sect, she would speak again and again of the great name of Senior Brother Gu of the Wenjian Sect. She said that that battle did her a world of good."
Hearing this, Gu Chengming did not so much as twitch.
Feng Ya stared at that calm, undisturbed face of his, and her irritation only spiked higher with nowhere to vent.
She had originally thought that, on this trip down the mountain to temper herself, if she had the chance — at the Nine Provinces Grand Tournament or some other occasion — to meet someone from the Wenjian Sect, she would surely demand redress for her junior sister.
Even if she could not truly bring real harm to the other, she would at least press him down a head on the path of the sword and win back face for the Yunyue Sect.
But who could have guessed how narrow the road of enemies could be: the two of them were sent to temper themselves at the same place, and were even assigned to the same squad.
How could she put on a pleasant face?
"I do hope, Junior Brother Gu, that your sword is truly as keen as rumor would have it — and that at the critical moment, you don't have to call upon our sect, your defeated opponents, to come rescue you."
With that, she said no more; she swept her great sleeve and turned to leave.
Before Gu Chengming could so much as react —
[The Hundred Bones Resonance falls into deep thought; then suddenly comprehends; and is finally seized with overflowing joy.]
[Sovereign Gu, I know this plot well — it's called 'thrashed the little one, here comes the older one' —]
[Once you kill this woman, the next arc is bashing your way up to the Yunyue Sect and slaughtering its entire household.]
The Flowing Cloud Moon-Following, which had been silent for a long while, also chose this moment to suddenly pop up.
[Flowing Cloud Moon-Following feels this storyline is quite to its taste.]
Gu Chengming sank into thought.
...
Leaving the Night-Watch Bureau, Gu Chengming walked along the broad Vermilion Bird Avenue toward the Rain-Listening Pavilion.
It was just dusk now, and the streets of the Capital were as bustling as ever.
The cries of vendors hawking their wares, the rumble of carriages and the clatter of hooves, the strings and pipes from inside the taverns — all wove themselves together into a rich, smoky breath of human life.
Walking through the throng, Gu Chengming was busy with his plans for what came next when, suddenly, he felt that an extra person had appeared behind him.
It was no furtive, skulking sort of following — it was openly above-board, even carrying a familiar, free-and-easy air.
He came to a halt and turned around, looking helplessly at the young man behind him, the one in the azure-cloud Daoist robe, with the fire-red orb still spinning in his hand.
"Brother Song."
Gu Chengming cupped his fists: "Our shift is already over — I wonder, Brother Song, what wisdom you wished to impart by trailing this humble one so long?"
"Aiya, what 'wisdom' — far too distant, that."
Far from being the least embarrassed at being found out, Song Qing burst into laughter and closed the gap in a couple of long strides, his manner as if the two were already old friends of many years:
"Look, I just figured — first meeting and all, and comrades besides, we ought to be a bit closer, isn't that right? Plus, you've just arrived, you certainly don't know this Capital yet. As your senior brother — I came half a month before you, after all — I can serve as your guide. And on the way, perhaps… find a place to share a couple of cups?"
Gu Chengming looked at this disciple of the Tianding Sect, somewhat at a loss.
This Song Qing was, frankly, a bit too quick to make himself at home.
"You're too kind, Brother Song." Gu Chengming gracefully declined. "It's only that it's already late today — the sect's Elder is waiting at the inn…"
"Don't be in such a hurry to refuse."
Seeing that Gu Chengming was about to leave, Song Qing came clean about why he'd come. The other members of that Night-Patrol Guard squad simply did not match his temperament.
Those two from the Hunyuan Sect — one was too stiff and reticent, the other too cold; spending time with them always felt a bit awkward.
The one from the Yunyue Sect was worse still: too proud and high-handed, and Yunyue's disciples were the kind to repay every slight, hardly easy to get along with.
He'd thought, he said, that this trip to the Great Qian was going to be a dreary affair, only to bump into a kindred spirit like Brother Gu.
However…
"Kindred spirit?"
Gu Chengming caught hold of the term keenly. His brow arched, and he asked with some puzzlement:
"What does Senior Brother Song mean by that?"
Hearing this, Song Qing was taken aback for a moment. After mulling it over briefly, he said:
"You know — the sort of, uh, fellow with a great many Dao-companions?"
"…"
Damn, why is it this reason again?
Back at the Scripture Library, Senior Brother Lu Che had also said something about his "excellent physiognomy" and how he "looked at a glance like a rake who'd sailed past a thousand sails."
Now in the Great Qian, this Senior Brother Song from the Tianding Sect was trotting out the very same line.
So just where about him looked like a man with many Dao-companions? Could it be on account of those twenty-five points of Charisma?
Inwardly Gu Chengming sighed in helpless resignation, but on the surface he did not stir — instead he picked up the line of the other's words and turned it back on him:
"Does Senior Brother Song have a great many Dao-companions, then?"
Song Qing scratched his head with some embarrassment, his eyes shifting away as he cleared his throat dryly twice:
"Cough… that, well, Dao-companions… not exactly."
"Not exactly?" Gu Chengming raised an eyebrow.
"Eh — to be precise, no formally bound Dao-companion."
Song Qing explained somewhat sheepishly, his voice dropping a notch:
"But… as for 'beauties of close acquaintance,' there are a few."
At this, he seemed to recover a bit of confidence and puffed out his chest:
"They're all junior sisters of the Harmonious Joy Sect. They're understanding and considerate, gentle and attentive — they truly know how to read a man's heart."
Damn, so we've got a swing-party regular on our hands.
Gu Chengming muttered inwardly, though his face showed nothing.
But Song Qing saw that faintly subtle expression and knew at once what he was thinking. He hurriedly waved a hand in protest:
"It's not what you're thinking — the relationship between me and those beauties is purely physical, that's all."
Isn't that exactly what I was thinking?!
Gu Chengming was speechless.
Still — concerning the Harmonious Joy Sect, he was genuinely a little curious.
After all, when he had first taken up this game, he had been in it for the galgame angle: every attribute and every stat point had been planned to make it easier to convert later to the Harmonious Joy Sect's cultivation method.
But game settings and the real world often did not match up.
In his impression, though the Harmonious Joy Sect was a welfare-handout sect within the game, in the conventional cultivation-novel setting this kind of school — focused on dual-cultivation and 'gathering and supplementing' — was usually classed among the 'heretical' or 'demonic' sects.
Gathering yang to nourish yin, gathering yin to nourish yang, harming others to benefit oneself, treating people as cauldrons… any way one looked at those labels, they did not belong with the famed orthodox schools.
Yet looking at Song Qing's perfectly open, candid demeanor — and the fact that even in a strict, rule-bound place like the Great Qian he could keep a few 'beauties of close acquaintance' — the standing of the Harmonious Joy Sect seemed not nearly as shadowed and unspeakable as he had imagined.
"Senior Brother Song."
Gu Chengming slowed his pace and put on the bearing of a humble student:
"This humble one has cultivated bitterly in the mountains since childhood and knows very little of the inner stories of the sects of the jianghu. I have heard that the method the Harmonious Joy Sect cultivates is the art of dual cultivation and gathering-and-supplementing. In the eyes of the common world, such an art seems to draw much disparagement. Why is it that in Senior Brother's words, it sounds like the most everyday of things?"
"Disparagement?"
Song Qing stared at him a moment, then could not help laughing:
"In our cultivation realm of the Nine Provinces, the Harmonious Joy Sect is a bona-fide famed orthodox school — recognized by the Immortal Alliance and protected by the laws of the Great Qian as a legal sect!"
"Orthodox? Legal?" Gu Chengming was a little startled.
"Of course."
Song Qing explained: "Long, long ago, there were indeed some crooked-hearted sorts who would forcibly seize mortals or low-tier cultivators as cauldrons, supplementing themselves until their victims died — those were the true 'heretical cultivators,' the kind every man had the right to slay."
"But ever since the founding of the Harmonious Joy Sect, things changed."
"The founding patriarch of the Harmonious Joy Sect was a singularly extraordinary woman of dazzling talent. With great resolve and great wisdom she gathered together every gathering-and-supplementing heretical art under heaven, then sifted the chaff from the wheat — softening those methods that ruined the victim's foundation or violated heavenly principle, and laying down extremely strict sect rules."
"Any disciple of the Harmonious Joy Sect who engages in dual cultivation must first obtain the other party's consent. It must be wholly willing on both sides."
Listening on, Gu Chengming came to understand.
This dual-cultivation, gathering-and-supplementing art was, at its root, a 'shortcut' — and the world has never lacked people who wanted to take shortcuts.
Before the founding of the Harmonious Joy Sect, those who cultivated such arts were indeed called heretical cultivators, and all men hunted them.
After the founding of the Harmonious Joy Sect, all the gathering-and-supplementing arts of the Harmonious Joy line were firmly held in the Sect's hands. Such methods circulated very rarely, and so heretical cultivators in the traditional sense were reduced by a great deal.
Moreover, gaining entry to the Harmonious Joy Sect demanded a high standard of character. Those who now cultivated gathering-and-supplementing arts were all upstanding citizens of excellent disposition who obeyed the laws.
Moreover, in this Capital, the Harmonious Joy Sect held quite a few enterprises.
Song Qing seemed to recall something, and went on:
"What pleasure-houses and courtesan parlors — ahem, I mean, what elegant courts and zither chambers — many of them have the shadow of the Harmonious Joy Sect behind them. The girls inside are mostly outer-sect disciples of the Harmonious Joy Sect, or rogue cultivators who have attached themselves to it for the sake of their practice."
"If Junior Brother Gu is interested, shall I take you to see for yourself?"
Gu Chengming walked shoulder to shoulder with Song Qing, listening to this disciple of the Tianding Sect spin out the Harmonious Joy Sect's cultivation method with flowers raining from heaven — and a certain interest did stir in him.
This interest, of course, did not spring from the alluring affairs of the dust-and-passion world; it came from a player's instinctive curiosity about the mechanics of a rare cultivation method.
After all, back in the days of the game, the Harmonious Joy Sect's whole system was the one best suited for playing galgame.
Song Qing was just about to strike while the iron was hot and lock in the outing to hear the music. The words were not yet out of his mouth when, from both their belts at the same moment, came a sudden, urgent trembling.
"Hmmm —"
A faint, obscure ripple of spirit-power issued from the waist-tokens, accompanied by a slight sensation of heat.
Gu Chengming's expression stirred. He lowered his eyes — and saw that on the surface of his waist-token, carved with the two characters 'Night-Watch,' a faint blood-red light was pulsing in time with breathing.
At very nearly the same instant,
Song Qing's face also changed. He quickly pressed his hand to the waist-token at his belt, which was also pulsing red, and shot a look toward some point deep in the corner of the streets.
"It's the alarm of the Night-Patrol Token," said Song Qing rapidly, his voice low. "Within three li, an evil thing of second realm or higher has appeared and is on a rampage. The malice it puts off is extremely heavy — it has already triggered the Capital's surveillance formation."
He glanced at Gu Chengming; a flicker of hesitation passed through his eyes, but instantly hardened into resolve: "Brother Gu, you've only just joined, but with this alarm already sounded, any Night-Patrol Guard in the vicinity has the duty to defend his ground. Will you come with me, or —"
Gu Chengming did not waver in the slightest: "Senior Brother Song, please lead the way."
"Good!"
Song Qing voiced a word of approval, wasted no more breath, and a flash of spirit-light bloomed beneath his feet as he sprang up onto the staggered rooftops and went flying along the ridges.
Gu Chengming followed close behind. One after the other, in only a few breaths' time, they had crossed two long streets and arrived at the edge of a market quarter called "Willow Lane."
This place was originally where commoners of the Capital dwelt, but now it was already smothered in a roiling fog as thick and black as ink.
That black fog was no ordinary smoke. It was a thing congealed out of extremely dense resentment and yin-malice, and it surged ceaselessly under the last red of the setting sun, swallowing and exhaling the surrounding vitality as though it were a living creature.
Even at a distance, one could hear coming from within the fog wave after wave of shrill, piercing wails — and a certain teeth-curling chewing sound.
"Second realm, mid stage?"
Song Qing halted on a flying eave nearby, gazing at the mass of black fog, his brows knit tight:
"No — wrong! This malice feels like Dry-Corpse Malice. This evil thing has likely already devoured no small amount of living blood…"
Gu Chengming stood at his side and did not rashly speak. Instead, he gathered the strength of his sight and quietly activated Piercing Insight.
In his vision, deep within that churning black fog, he could dimly make out a hunched, black-fur-covered figure of an evil thing crouched upon a body that had not yet gone cold, gnawing wildly.
That evil thing was wreathed in dark red lines of blood; with each breath it expelled a dirty, ashen current that polluted the surrounding spirit-energy.
Just as the two were watching, a sharp, delicate cry suddenly burst from another rooftop on the far side.
An instant later, a stroke of sword-light cold as frost and snow tore through the air and slashed savagely at the mass of fog.
"Boom!"
The sword-light plunged into the fog and sent it churning violently. The fog seemed scalded; it gave a piercing shriek and dispersed slightly on all sides, revealing the true face of the evil thing within.
At the same time, a figure in moon-white close-fitting attire dropped from the sky and alighted upon a high wall.
It was none other than Feng Ya of the Yunyue Sect.
She held a long, slim, soft sword. Her face was hard as frost; the spirit-power around her surged. Plainly she too had hurried over upon receiving the alarm.
At this moment, Feng Ya also noticed the disturbance on this side.
She turned her head; her gaze swept past Song Qing and finally settled upon Gu Chengming. The originally cold look in her eyes sank a few degrees further. Across that pretty face, a flash of undisguised distaste — and a sense of grim ill-luck — crossed.
"Truly, the road of enemies is narrow."
Feng Ya snorted coldly; the soft sword in her hand quivered gently, humming with a low sword-resonance:
"Not even at the second realm and you dare butt into a matter like this? Aren't you afraid this malice will run into your spirit-soul and ruin your Dao-foundation?"
Gu Chengming smiled: "There are some at the second realm who are even more afraid than I am at my first."
Feng Ya was beside herself. Seeing this, Song Qing hurried forward to smooth things over:
"What matters first is for us to join hands and slay the demon. This evil thing looks rather tricky — it may not be easy to deal with."
"Tricky?"
Feng Ya darted a glance at the black fog that had once more massed together. A flicker of wariness ran through her eyes, but her mouth did not yield an inch:
"A mere second-realm evil thing — what is there to speak of? So long as the bystanders don't come and add to the trouble or drag me back, that's enough."
Said as she did, she did not at once charge in. She stood atop the wall, several spirit-talismans pinched in her hand, eyes grave as she stared at the mass of black fog, as though weighing something in her mind. Song Qing was the same.
Gu Chengming stood off to one side and watched these two 'second-realm experts' striking poses of formidable readiness yet failing to act. He could not help feeling a touch puzzled.
By rights, with Feng Ya's and Song Qing's cultivation, plus the magical treasures bestowed by their sects, the two of them joining forces against a mid-stage second-realm evil thing — even if it could not be instantly slain, they ought at least to be pressing it on the offensive.
Why was it that the two of them looked as if they faced a mortal foe, even seeming hemmed in and unable to act?
As though catching Gu Chengming's confusion, Song Qing lowered his voice in explanation:
"Brother Gu, this evil thing is called the Filth-Corpse Demon. If one charges in for close-quarters combat, once the foul vapor stains a person, it brings, at the least, disrupted spirit-power circulation and damaged meridians; at worst, it taints the Dao-heart and may leave a hard-to-purge inner demon as a hidden flaw."
Gu Chengming understood at once — so it was self-preservation.
It made sense. If they could wear the thing down at a distance with arts, naturally that was best. But this evil thing had clearly developed spiritual cunning. It hid deep within the black fog, using the complex layout of the surrounding civilian dwellings — and the few common folk who had not yet escaped — as cover, so that Song Qing dared not throw his arts for fear of breaking the vessel along with the rat. There was simply no room to deploy.
The standoff settled in like that.
Within the black fog, the evil thing seemed to have noticed what the cultivators outside were afraid of.
It let out wave after wave of hair-raising, eerie laughter. Far from fleeing, it loosed its black fog all the more brazenly, swallowing several of the nearby civilian houses entirely.
Wretched, shrill cries came from within the fog, gripping the heart of any who heard them.
Feng Ya's hand on her sword tightened; her expression turned hard to look at. But seeing that foul vapor so dense it seemed about to drip water, her foot, for all her will, would not take the step forward.
True, the longer such a thing dragged on the worse it became, but she did not want to take the risk. To save a handful of mortals and let that foul vapor wound her Dao-heart — how was she to compete on the path of the Dao afterward?
Song Qing's face was likewise tight with anxiety. The orb in his hand was raised and lowered, raised and lowered, several times, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
He cursed under his breath: "If only we could lure it out…"
However, the words had hardly left his lips when the Wave-Listening Sword left its sheath.
Gu Chengming, without the slightest hesitation, charged straight into that mass of black fog that everyone else was shying away from!
"Have you gone mad?!"
Song Qing went pale with shock. He reached out a hand to pull him back, but caught only empty air.
Feng Ya, too, was slightly taken aback.
Within the black fog, vision was almost wholly cut off.
A dense, fetid stench seeped in everywhere, like countless sticky tentacles desperately boring at Gu Chengming's mouth, his nose, his pores.
At the same time, waves of clamorous, venomous whispers rang out in his mind.
However, just as those whispers were swelling louder,
[The Qingxin Formula frowns: 'Where is this?']
— Sorry about this, my little Qing. Bear with it for a moment, I'll get you out right away.
Once he realized the Qingxin Formula had stepped in to play the host within his domain, Gu Chengming's spiritual platform suddenly turned clear and bright.
Those originally ear-rending shrieks became, in this moment, no more bothersome than the buzzing of a mosquito.
The black tendrils that had tried to bore into his body were like piled snow meeting a roaring fire: the moment they brushed against the faint clear glow on the surface of his skin, they let out a 'tsstt-tsstt' sizzling sound and shrank back in terror.
And not just that — the Bright-Dim Lantern hanging at his waist also abruptly blazed alight at this moment.
Without spirit-power to drive it, it could not fully unleash a second-tier artifact's might. Yet the evil-warding power stored within the lampwick, sensing the dense evil-aura around it, of its own accord pushed open a thin veil of light.
Thin though that veil was, it was uncommonly tough — and it held the would-be-corrupting black fog at bay, a full three inches off his flesh.
"Found you."
In an instant, Gu Chengming had locked onto the corpse demon crouched on the ground, its face frozen in shock. The evil thing plainly had not imagined that anyone would dare burst in without any protection at all — and at such a ridiculous speed at that.
It was just about to act, but Gu Chengming's sword was faster than its reaction.
[Sword Intent (Cling): activated.]
The sword-light, slender as silk, soundlessly wound itself around the evil thing's neck.
The creature felt its body go rigid in that instant. The strength it had been about to explode out with was inexplicably cut short, and the foul spirit-power within it ground sluggishly to a near-halt, as though it had sunk into mire.
Puchi!
The Wave-Listening Sword executed no flourish. Riding that clinging force, it simply swept across.
An ugly head matted with black fur tumbled to the ground.
Black blood spurted; the great mass of black fog, losing the support of its source, instantly began to collapse.
The whole sequence was like flowing clouds and running water — over in the blink of an eye.
...
Outside the black fog.
Song Qing was anxiously forming a hand-seal of arts, on the verge of charging in to save him.
Just then, the dense black fog scattered like cooking smoke driven away by the wind, rapidly thinning.
Moonlight once again poured down into the little alley.
The scene revealed froze both of their expressions on their faces.
There was no flying flesh and blood as they had imagined, no scrambling rout as they had predicted.
Gu Chengming stood in his green robe, still neat and clean, without so much as a single crease. He held the sword in one hand, its tip slanting toward the ground; a drop of black, polluted blood was slowly sliding down its edge.
And at his feet, that mid-stage second-realm corpse demon which the two of them had been so wary of, dared not even close with — now lay with head separated from body, dead as dead could be.
All around, the common folk who had been wailing only moments before, though shaken, were unharmed; they were now slumped on the ground, looking with eyes of dazed survival upon that young man holding the sword.
"How… how is this possible?!"
Feng Ya's eyes were wide.
Song Qing too wore a face of blank stupefaction. He looked at Gu Chengming, then at the corpse on the ground, then in the end swallowed a gulp, raised a thumb, and after struggling for a long while finally squeezed out a single line:
"Brother Gu… truly a fierce gentleman."
Gu Chengming returned the sword to its sheath and turned. At the same time —
[The Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method gazes upon the fallen evil thing, then upon the rescued commoners around him, and a warm current wells up in its heart.]
[It speaks: 'Though ten thousand stand against me, yet shall I go.' To stride into filth without flinching, to risk oneself to save the people — this is the courage of the benevolent, the bearing of the gentleman.]
[Caring nothing for personal honor or shame, gain or loss; seeking only the peace of one corner of the realm. This is true great righteousness!]
[The Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method is supremely satisfied with your conduct.]
[Favor +5]
[Current Favor: 48 / Friendly]
Something stirred in Gu Chengming's heart.
In a situation like this — could he, perhaps, hoodwink his trusty old Hundred a bit?
Thinking thus, in a voice only he himself could hear, he murmured to himself, low:
"Lucky those two earlier wore down most of this beast's strength. Otherwise, I could never have closed in so smoothly and finished it with a single strike."
Having said this, Gu Chengming raised his head again, looking toward the two of them.
He paused: "Just now the situation was urgent; I acted on my own without taking time to discuss it. Since the finishing blow was completed by me, then by the rules of the Night-Watch Bureau, the chief merit for this slaying… I'm afraid is going to fall to me."
Feng Ya opened her mouth to object, only to find she had nothing she could actually say.
She could only force the breath back down her throat, give a cold snort, turn her face aside, and not look at Gu Chengming again. Inwardly, however, she was choked half to death.
Song Qing, for his part, was the easygoing sort. At these words, he let out a hearty laugh and waved a hand:
"What is Brother Gu saying! If not for Brother Gu today, who knows how long we'd have been stuck out here? This merit was rightly yours from the start — if anyone dares object, I, Song Qing, will be the first to refuse to agree!"
Meanwhile, another pop-up appeared before his eyes.
[The Hundred Bones Resonance, seeing the scene before it, is struck as if by lightning and comprehends in a flash.]
[It looks at those two side-characters who originally had higher cultivation than Sovereign Gu, yet now could only stare blankly from the side, and then at Gu Chengming, untouched and unhurt — and the one who casually scooped up all the merit besides.]
[Is this not, exactly, the classic plot device of the storybooks — the secret-realm treasure-hunt arc?!]
[Two parties scheme and fight to the death over a treasure, exhausting every trick — only for the passing protagonist to pluck it up, easy as you please!]
[Truly worthy of being Sovereign Gu! Not only courageous and resourceful, daring to step forward at the moment of crisis, but also blessed with such heaven-defying great fortune!]
[This is the snipe and the clam locked in struggle, while the fisherman reaps the gain! Exactly so!]
[Hundred Bones Resonance Favor +10]
[Current Favor: 175 / ∞ (Bond Beyond Life and Death)]
Ai, dear Old Hundred — would you say I just understand you all too well?
So Gu Chengming thought.
...
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