“Pawning a sword just to stay at an inn?”
Hearing this, the manager immediately looked at the other woman. At the sight of her, he froze in place—though not out of fear.
Cloud City was currently crawling with people from the martial world. The manager had seen countless wandering warriors, yet never one quite like this.
A rhythmic clattering followed the woman in white; she was festooned with thin blades and narrow knives of every description. Though she possessed the frigid, ethereal grace of a celestial being, she also bore the aura of a woman who could kill in ten paces. It made one hesitate to even look at her.
Feng Yun’ai actually took a moment to consider the proposal. She detached a short blade and held it out. “If I must pawn it, then fine.”
Sang Chencao let out a suspicious chuckle. Instead of taking the blade, she pulled out some silver and tossed it to the manager.
The manager caught it with both hands, forcing a stiff smile.
“I haven’t asked yet,” Sang Chencao said. “Where exactly did you get all those blades? Did your master give them to you for self-defense?”
Now that they were in Cloud City, it wasn’t wise to mention Feng Rong by name. Sang Chencao spoke with a heavy, layered meaning.
Feng Yun’ai shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “I only took one sword when I left.”
That sword was Solitary Gall.
The manager glanced at the short blade in the white-clad woman’s hand. After a moment of hesitation, he pointed toward the door. “Do you see that copper ingot hanging under the eaves across the street? That pawnshop specializes in business for people of the martial world. Even if you pawn swords, blades, medicine, or poison, they’ll take it.”
Seeing that Sang Chencao wasn’t taking her blade, Feng Yun’ai lost interest in pawning it. She withdrew her hand and said, “There is no need. Thank you.”
The manager walked behind the counter to record the transaction, stealing cautious glances at the two women. “Top floor, Heaven Suite,” he said kindly. “Hardly anyone else is coming these days, so I’ll give you the best room.”
“How generous,” Sang Chencao mocked. “Does that mean we’re going to suffer some kind of loss by staying here?”
The manager started to speak but thought better of it. He eventually signaled the waiter with a look.
The waiter immediately ran to close the door, pressing his back against it with a look of grim determination, as if facing his own execution.
Only then did the manager speak. “You two may not know this, but while the city gates aren’t locked, anyone entering is being watched by the Martial Arts Alliance. If someone checks into an inn, they’ll send people to investigate. Many of my guests have been driven away by them.”
Sang Chencao’s eyes darkened, though her lips curved into a smirk. “The Martial Arts Alliance? So the Hantian Alliance truly is no more, and a new coalition has already been formed?”
“Only those of us inside Cloud City know the details,” the manager whispered. “After all, they were only established a few days ago. I don’t know how the news leaked out so fast.”
Only a few days?
Feng Yun’ai gripped Solitary Gall, her palm growing numb from its icy chill.
Establishing a new alliance was never that simple. It stood to reason that those people had likely decided to form the new group long before they ever set out for Yellow Sand Cliff. They had known about the relationship between Feng Rong and Wen Lanxin all along.
Sang Chencao flicked her finger, releasing a burst of internal energy that forced the tightly shut door open. “Thank you for the information. Is the manager not afraid of being accused of spreading rumors?”
The manager gave a sheepish smile. “I just took your silver, didn’t I? In my line of work, one must show sincerity.”
Sang Chencao snorted. “Rest easy. Even if someone comes to drive us out, she and I won’t ask for our deposit back.”
The manager finally relaxed, his face brightening.
Once they were in their room upstairs, Feng Yun’ai sat motionless at the table, while Sang Chencao lay down on the bed, looking like a woman devoted to her own comfort.
Though she sat with perfect posture, Feng Yun’ai’s heart was in turmoil. She hadn’t realized that Feng Rong had been completely cornered and outmaneuvered so long ago.
If I had left Listening Goose Peak earlier to serve as her right hand, would things have turned out differently?
She had spent the last few days with her eyes veiled, and her daily life had been largely undisturbed. Aside from this indigo-clothed woman who loved to offend her at every turn, no one had seen her grey eyes.
If I had covered my eyes sooner, could I have done more for her?
She had relied on Feng Rong for years on Listening Goose Peak. She never expected that, in the end, she would be unable to help her at all.
She was like a captive magpie—exiled, driven away, not knowing where to go or what to do.
Sang Chencao yawned, propping her chin up on her hand as she lay on her side. Her gaze drifted over to the other woman, and she let out a sudden, mocking scoff.
Feng Yun’ai snapped out of her thoughts. “How do we find out where Feng Rong’s body is?”
Sang Chencao gestured with her chin toward the floor. “There’s a manager and a waiter downstairs. You can ask anyone. You didn’t ask just now because you wanted me to do it for you?”
Feng Yun’ai went silent. She simply wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask such a question openly.
Sang Chencao smiled again, speaking leisurely. “Why don’t you beg me, Xiuxiu? I’ll gather the information for you.”
Beg?
Feng Yun’ai had never begged anyone. Feng Rong had never taught her how to do such a thing.
Receiving no response, Sang Chencao finally said, “Forget it, I’ll help you. But you’ll have to find the body yourself.”
“And you?” Feng Yun’ai frowned.
“I’m looking for Wen Lanxin.” Sang Chencao paused, her tone turning cryptic. “Perhaps Wen Lanxin knows.”
A moment later, there was a knock at the door. It was the waiter bringing seasonal fruit and flowers—it seemed the inn was truly terrified that their guests might leave abruptly.
As soon as the waiter set the items on the table, the door slammed shut behind him. He sucked in a breath, frozen in place.
Having lived in Cloud City for years, the waiter knew that people of the martial world were often mercurial, and some were even cold-blooded killers. He was so terrified he didn’t even dare move his eyes.
Sang Chencao sat up and beckoned him. “Come here. I have things to ask.”
The waiter approached timidly, shuffling his feet like a frightened quail.
Feng Yun’ai didn’t like seeing the woman bully people this way. She raised her sword, blocking the waiter’s path at waist height to prevent him from getting any closer.
