Feng Yun’ai moved toward the door, looking every bit the well-meaning guest intending to check out.
Sang Chencao suddenly circled her wrist, refusing to give her even the slightest opening. She let out a soft huff. “Do you even know what it means to be ‘destined’?”
Feng Yun’ai remained silent. Since it was Sang Chencao who was putting the blade up for credit, whether or not someone was “destined” was naturally for her to decide.
Seeing her silence, Sang Chencao continued, “I only lend to women. Moreover, she must be a master of martial arts, a woman capable of standing her ground against Feng Rong.”
Even those who weren’t part of the martial world knew the name Feng Rong. After all, she was not only the Alliance Leader of the Hantian Alliance but also the City Lord of Cloud City.
Through the thin wooden door, the manager heard every word. Though he didn’t fully understand their scheme, he realized the person these two were waiting for was someone not to be trifled with. Out of necessity, he relented. “The matter of spreading the word… I agree. But please, the two of you must also keep your word.”
Footsteps outside the door receded.
Feng Yun’ai frowned. “You might as well have said Wen Lanxin’s name directly.”
“Aside from Wen Lanxin, I can’t think of anyone else who could hold their own against Feng Rong.” Sang Chencao released the pale, slender wrist in her grasp. “If Wen Lanxin hears this rhetoric, she’ll know we’re looking for her.”
Since things had reached this point, there was no longer any need for Feng Yun’ai to check out. She simply placed Solitary Gall on the table. “Do you truly intend to talk reason with those monks?”
She didn’t believe for a second that the two of them had any “reason” to offer.
Sure enough, the indigo-clothed woman replied with profound meaning, “The monks certainly won’t want to talk reason with us, so what reason could we possibly give?”
Feng Yun’ai was left speechless.
Sang Chencao reached out again, flipping Feng Yun’ai’s palm over. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Were you planning to vacate this room just now? Don’t forget, you’re spending my money.”
Feng Yun’ai reached toward her collar, making a move to return the lodging money.
The hand pinning her palm suddenly applied force, jerking her forward so that she was forced to lean over.
Sang Chencao leaned in as well, her body nearly pressed against the table. She sneered, “You want to give it back? Well, I don’t want to take it.”
Feng Yun’ai shook off the woman’s hand and rested her fingers on the hilt of Solitary Gall.
“I’m exhausted. Why would we check out?” Sang Chencao sat up straight and said leisurely, “Besides, your worries are entirely misplaced. If Wen Lanxin truly comes, this inn will have a new story to attract guests. By then, countless people will flock here for the fame alone. The inn won’t lose a copper.”
Feng Yun’ai didn’t understand the business of running an inn, but after some thought, she felt there was some logic to it.
Having finished her piece, the indigo-clothed woman lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. “Rest a while. Those monks aren’t the type to be easily dealt with. If they come looking for us, it won’t just cost us our breath; it’ll cost us physical energy and movement.”
Feng Yun’ai remained seated at the table, her eyes closed as well. However, she wasn’t napping; she was regulating the flow of her meridians and her inner qi.
Just as the woman had said, she truly suffered from a congenital deficiency. If she exerted her inner qi even slightly too much, her entire body would be wracked with pain and discomfort, as if she had reached a bottleneck in her cultivation realm.
If she tried to push further, she feared her body truly wouldn’t be able to bear the load.
While Feng Yun’ai was regulating her breath, the person on the bed secretly opened her eyes, staring fixedly at the elegant, thin silhouette by the table.
After a long moment, Sang Chencao’s lips twitched—likely a silent scoff in her heart.
Although Cuiyu Temple was located outside Haosi City and far from the Central Plains—seemingly never setting foot in the Central Plains’ martial world—it was still considered the second most prominent temple in the land.
The copper bell outside the temple had been sliced and destroyed, and news had spread of two women soaring over Haosi City heading straight for the temple. How could the monks sit still?
Monks who hadn’t descended the mountain in years rode into Haosi City on horseback. The city’s commoners scrambled out of the way in panic, seeing such blatant fury on the faces of those holy men for the first time.
Pedestrians on the street dared not approach. Someone whispered, “Of all people to provoke, why did those two have to provoke Cuiyu Temple? Do they not know why that temple moved to Haosi City? It’s because their rules are despised by the Central Plains—their killing intent is far too heavy.”
The innkeeper heard the thundering hooves from a distance and knew trouble was brewing. He rushed out to meet them, clasping his hands. “Masters, are you here for lodging or a meal?”
The lead monk, his head shaved smooth and shiny, didn’t reply. His cold gaze swept across the common room, silencing everyone eating and drinking.
Cold sweat poured down the manager’s face. He asked with a trembling voice, “The inn hasn’t prepared any vegetarian meals yet. I fear we might slight you. Please, Masters, do not take offense.”
The leading monk said coldly, “The female benefactor who sliced the bell of Cuiyu Temple earlier—is she in this inn?”
“Ah, yes, yes.” The manager wiped his sweat, not daring to deceive them. He added quickly, “I’ll go up right now and invite the two of them down for you?”
The monks didn’t force their way in after all, simply nodding. “We trouble you.”
The manager bolted upstairs like a bolt of lightning, nearly tripping over himself halfway. He pounded on the door. “Have mercy, you two! The monks from Cuiyu Temple are at the door. They’re downstairs saying they want to see you!”
By then, Feng Yun’ai had finished her meditation. She opened her eyes, cast a glance toward the bed, and gripped her sword, her heart racing. “Thank you for the notice,” she said flatly.
The manager lingered outside the door. Until he saw these two step out, the breath stuck in his throat wouldn’t come out.
Sang Chencao sat up unhurriedly and began tidying her hair. “They arrived quite fast. It seems that after all these years, those hot-headed temple rules haven’t changed. But just because they want to see me doesn’t mean I want to see them.”
Feng Yun’ai’s mind was in turmoil, yet she kept her expression unreadable. “You were the one who sliced the bell of Cuiyu Temple,” she said coldly.
“And who did I slice it for?” Sang Chencao asked, perfectly composed.
Feng Yun’ai tightened her grip on Solitary Gall. “You acted on your own after seizing the sword.”
Sang Chencao walked slowly to the white-clothed woman’s side, leaning an arm on the edge of the table. She lowered her head. “I went to such lengths for a chance acquaintance whose real name I don’t even know. How is that ‘acting on my own’? It’s me being charitable.”
The “charity” of others and the “charity” in this woman’s mouth were two entirely different things.
“Sophistry.” Feng Yun’ai only had to lift her eyes slightly to see the two strange beauty marks on the other woman’s face.
One on the left, one on the right—perfectly symmetrical on her cheeks. It was as if this woman had her own set of rules for the world, none of which had anything to do with fairness or justice.
Sang Chencao backed away with a smile, making a wild guess. “I once heard that the last descendant of the Blade Lending Sect was surnamed Song. You are a fake, so you likely aren’t a Song.”
Feng Yun’ai didn’t know what this woman was deducing, only feeling that she harbored ill intentions.
“Is it…” Sang Chencao suddenly revealed a strange look of joy. “Is it Feng?”
The back of Feng Yun’ai’s neck went cold.
Sang Chencao continued at a leisurely pace, “No one knows when Feng Rong took a disciple. But looking at your body’s congenital deficiency, if you hadn’t practiced martial arts from a young age, you certainly wouldn’t have adapted—especially since Feng Rong’s Lonely Heart Sword Technique is so cold and harsh.”
“What are you trying to say?” Feng Yun’ai still refused to admit anything, asking only an ambiguous question.
Sang Chencao’s eyes turned icy, a smile playing on her lips. “Feng Rong only stepped into the Borderlands back when she first founded the Hantian Alliance and cleared out external enemies. Back then, she truly ‘cleft the heavens with a single strike,’ slaughtering the people of the Borderlands until they retreated from the Central Plains. You have a pair of grey eyes—you’re a native of the Borderlands. Feng Rong picked you up back then, didn’t she?”
Feng Yun’ai slightly lowered the white silk covering her eyes, revealing a pair of ice-cold grey eyes.
Sang Chencao laughed and pulled the silk back up for her. “Feng Rong has kept you hidden all this time. No outsider has ever seen you. Is it because…”
“Nonsense.” Feng Yun’ai’s tightly pressed lips moved. “When did I ever say I had a relationship with Feng Rong?”
“Because,” Sang Chencao continued, ignoring the protest, “your identity is something that cannot be revealed.”
