Chapter 141
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Lamps glowed like dragons; the clamor of voices gradually faded.
By the second quarter of the Xu hour, the night-watch bell of Chang’an rang out. On both sides of the street, vendors extinguished the steam rising from their stoves, and the strolling pedestrians around them, now in twos and threes, hurried along their way.
Yang Yong and his younger brother Yang Guang patted their slightly bulging bellies. As for his brother’s earlier suggestion to visit a pleasure quarter, Yang Yong had, of course, refused outright.
“Let’s head back quickly. If Father returns and finds neither of us at home, we’ll likely be subject to a round of family discipline.”
The younger boy walking slightly ahead cradled a bowl of cherry cream, taking small, deliberate bites. This dessert of milk custard blended with sugarcane syrup had always been Yang Guang’s favorite.
Upon hearing his elder brother’s words, he tilted his small face upward and glanced sideways.
“Hmph… What are you saying, Brother? If anyone is to be punished, it’s you. I was brought out by you, after all.”
“You—!”
Yang Yong’s mouth twitched. He raised a finger but left it suspended in midair. In the end, he only gave a flick of his sleeve and let his hand fall. Toward this younger brother of his, he truly found it difficult to get angry.
“…What I mean is, now that the night bell has sounded, it’s time to return to the manor. If we run into troublemakers, how could the two of us possibly get away?”
“Who in Chang’an would dare? With Father’s position, even the palace officials have to step aside for us.”
His little face looked up as if speaking seriously. He then picked up a cherry and licked off the custard, squinting his eyes in delight as the sweetness blossomed on his tongue.
There were still many pedestrians on the street, and upon hearing the exchange between the older and younger pair, a few found the brothers rather amusing.
“Oh, that’s right, Brother! During dinner, Cousin Li Yuan mentioned meeting some great expert—was that true?”
“Most likely not. How often does one truly come across a great expert? And giving away treasures on top of that?”
Yang Yong sneered, folding his sleeves behind his back as he looked toward the vendors packing up around them, his chin lifting slightly with pride.
“If we’re speaking of great experts, I do know of one. Someone even tried to have me recommend him to Father. I believe his name is Lu Liangsheng, a tribute scholar from Southern Chen, or something of the sort.”
As Yang Yong spoke, his voice suddenly faltered. He thought he faintly heard the sound of tiles shattering, and instinctively lifted his gaze. His line of sight pierced through the crisscrossing lanterns above the long street, and he murmured, “…What was that sound?”
At his side, Yang Guang wore a look of disbelief, snorting coldly: “A so-called great expert needing a recommendation? You’ve clearly been tricked by those beneath you.”
Crack!
A fragment, no larger than a thumb, fell from above and struck the street, bouncing to a stop beside Yang Guang’s foot. The young boy cut himself off mid-sentence, his brows furrowing. Following his elder brother’s gaze, he looked toward the rooftop on the right.
At the North Gate of Chang’an, the thunder of hooves shook the earth. Over a dozen horses galloped at full speed.
“Open the gates! The Grand Chancellor is leaving the city!”
A soldier’s voice bellowed as he brandished his weapon. Among the riders rushing forward, one suddenly reined his horse to a hard stop.
“Hyah—!”
Yang Su tugged harshly at the reins, halting his steed, and abruptly turned to look back toward the city. In a booming voice, he shouted: “Elder Brother! Something has changed within the city! Cultivators are casting techniques within the city walls—!”
Hiiiiii!
Up ahead, a warhorse neighed long and sharp.
The rearing steed pawed at the air. Yang Jian wheeled his horse about and, seeing the look on his clan brother’s face—clearly not feigned—turned to Li Yuan beside him and said:
“Tell no one of your encounter with the immortal. For now, we return to the city at once!”
With that, he drew the sword at his waist and cried out in a fierce voice:
“Follow me!”
His cloak flared behind him as he spurred his horse across the street, with Yang Su, Li Yuan, and their personal guards and attendants racing in pursuit.
Within the marketplace, lanterns blazed brightly. Pedestrians hurried past, and the clamor gradually subsided.
“Last two pancakes! Buy one, get one free! Once sold, stall’s closed!” “Lamb pies! Lamb pies! Get them while they’re hot—just one mouthful of steaming lamb soup left!”
Amidst the final clamorous shouts, Yang Yong’s startled cry of “What was that sound?” was still echoing when Yang Guang followed his gaze—and in that direction, atop a building hung with lanterns, there came a loud boom.
The next instant—
A dark silhouette shot across the sky above the long street like a cannonball, tearing through the branches and leaves of a roadside tree. Strings of lanterns were dragged along by the figure, which then crashed heavily onto the street below. With force still unspent, it bounced off the street’s edge, tumbled across the ground several times, and only came to a stop when it slammed into the shuttered door of a closed shop.
Shattered lanterns caught fire from their flames, setting off a blaze that lit up half the long street. Pedestrians and vendors nearby froze in place for a breath, then suddenly came to their senses—abandoning all they held, they fled in panic with cries of alarm, quickly putting distance between themselves and the scene.
“Someone’s been killed!” “It’s a vendetta—run for your life!”
“Quick, notify the authorities!”
Yang Yong, too, believed they’d stumbled upon a deadly feud between men of the martial world. He grabbed his younger brother and began retreating, but Yang Guang resisted—this was a rare sight, and he kept turning his head back to look.
From the rooftop just moments earlier, two more figures arrived, one chasing the other. The one in front descended onto the street, while the other remained on the roof, robes flapping in the wind. In that moment, the sound of hooves echoed down the street—a decrepit donkey carrying a bookshelf was galloping toward them.
Lu Liangsheng’s eyes locked onto the descending cultivator from the Fire-Worship Sect. With a flick of his sleeve, his hand made a summoning gesture—on the old donkey’s back, the bookshelf gave off several crisp clang sounds as seven spiritual swords drew themselves from their sheaths and soared into the air.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh…
As they streaked past the two brothers’ field of vision, the wind stirred by their flight sent clothes and hair wildly whipping about. Yang Yong let out a yelp and fell to the ground on his rear.
At his side, Yang Guang stood frozen in place, mouth agape and unable to close.
“B-brother… What… what was that that just flew past…?”
Sitting on the ground, Yang Yong swallowed hard. “I think… they were swords…”
As he spoke, the two of them stared ahead. Atop the roof, the scholarly figure waved his arm and raised two fingers before his eyes. Ever since reaching the Minor Completion stage of the Golden Core realm at the Qi Mountain, with his cultivation deepening, his command of spiritual swords had become far more effortless.
Whoosh…
Wind swept down the street. The cultivator who had gone to regroup with his comrade suddenly turned his head—only to see swordlight flash across his gaze. In his shrinking pupils, seven spiritual swords were soaring across the sky overhead, before suddenly descending.
“Flying Sword Art?!”
In that instant, he slammed the red-tipped staff in his hand hard against the ground. Fire patterns coiled around his body as spiritual power surged up from the staff’s head to form a barrier above. But the seven swords, each vibrating with resonance, crashed down with a clang, clang, clang, each impact sending ripples outward in all directions.
“Ahhh—!”
The cultivator’s arms trembled uncontrollably, his face flushed crimson with exertion. Amidst his hoarse roar, he suddenly withdrew his spiritual power, kicked off the ground, and lunged to the side. One by one, the longswords pursued his rolling form, striking the ground with explosive force. The street cracked apart under the blows, debris flying to the roadside, striking wooden pillars beneath the eaves and making them tremble.
This scene left the two brothers and a nearby vendor, hiding behind a small pushcart, staring in stunned silence.
“Brother, look! The man on the rooftop is coming down!”
Within the area illuminated by the burning lanterns, Lu Liangsheng floated gently to the ground. With a single lift of his hand, the spiritual swords embedded upright in the ground stirred again—stone chips and rubble rose into the air as the swords pulled themselves free one by one.
In the distance, the other cultivator—previously slammed into the street—finally came to. His face was covered in blood, and he staggered to his feet. When he saw the scholar surrounded by suspended swords, he swallowed hard and turned to flee.
After just two steps, he abruptly halted, his expression frozen. In his line of sight stood a toad wearing a short tunic.
“Can’t defeat that man… and now a toad demon dares block my way!”
He, too, held a spiritual sword in hand. With a fierce roar, he swept two fingers along the blade—and in that instant, what he saw seemed like an illusion. The toad, barely knee-high, suddenly had a head that swelled to monstrous proportions, its frog mouth stretching wide open.
On the ground, flames continued to spread. The shadows cast on the wall stretched long—legs flailing in midair, while the upper half merged into the hulking black shape.
The Toad Daoist, twin flippers folded behind his back, was noisily chewing. His bulbous eyes glanced toward the side profile of his disciple not far down the street. The swallowing motion paused, then a moment later, his head swelled again—and he turned to the side and opened his mouth.
“Hah—ptew!”
A figure was spat from his mouth with a splack, slapping against the wall by the street. Thick, sticky mucus clung to the man’s body as he slowly slid down.
“Terrible taste…”
The Toad Daoist folded his flippers behind his back and turned away.
Clip-clop, clip-clop…
The sound of hooves echoed faintly from the northern end of the long street.
Lu Liangsheng tilted his head slightly to listen, then shifted his gaze toward the cultivator who had just tumbled to the ground. That man scrambled to his feet in a fluster, his spiritual weapon having landed several zhang away.
As a cultivator, he was not truly injured. The moment this Fire-Worship Sect disciple steadied himself, a sharp whistling sound split through the air toward him.
The cloth on his body ripped with a sharp tsshh as the sword pierced through, then tightened, dragging him backward through the air. With a heavy bang, he slammed against the storefront along the street. The cultivator looked up just as several spiritual swords shot toward him—
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
One by one, the swords pinned him to the ground with precision—through wide sleeves, pant legs, underarms… his body stretched out like a character written in the shape of a large “da” (大). The final sword streaked forward with a swift whoosh, piercing through his robe’s hem and embedding itself just half an inch into the shopfront beneath his crotch.
At that moment, the Toad Daoist approached, climbing the bookshelf by following the old donkey’s reins. From afar, the sound of hooves and the glow of torches drew nearer.
“Liangsheng, take him outside the city for questioning!”
“Understood.”
Lu Liangsheng knew well the city guards would soon be alerted. With a flick of his sleeve, the seven spiritual swords retracted back into their sheaths on the bookshelf. He reached out, grabbed the Fire-Worship Sect disciple, and lightly settled onto the donkey’s back.
A sharp smack on the donkey’s rump—
“Move out!”
At the same time, a voice called out, “Sir!”
In the leading cavalry, Li Yuan’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of Lu Liangsheng’s profile from afar. But by the time he reached the spot, Lu Liangsheng had already vanished in a flash of sorcery around the corner.
Sigh~
Yang Jian reined in his warhorse, stunned to see even an old donkey running so fast. Coming back to himself, he muttered,
“Alas, missed a chance to meet a great master…”
“Brother, don’t be upset!”
Nearby, Yang Su turned his horse’s head and cupped his hands respectfully toward his cousin. “I will chase after them now and bring him back for you!”
With that, he urged his horse forward, galloping out of the long street until the sound of hooves faded away.
Meanwhile, the street had already been secured by arriving infantry. Yang Jian naturally saw the mucus-covered corpse and the two brothers hiding behind the small pushcart.
He said, “Thoroughly investigate the origins of this corpse.” Then his gaze fell on the slowly approaching Yang Yong and Yang Guang. He snorted coldly:
“We’ll settle this score with you two brothers later!”
The brothers shivered in unison, causing Li Yuan to hold back a laugh and turn his face away.
