Chapter 39: The Water Theft (2) Part 1

◎With an old friend beside me, the mountains are high and the waters wide.◎

The violent gale buffeted the shelves, making them sway and rock. From time to time, porcelain bottles toppled off, shattering into pieces.

Thick layers of ice crystals on the walls were scraped off in sheets. They twisted through the air, mixing with shredded snow, seeming to coalesce into an enormous hand. It pressed against the Black Iron door, pushing forward with all its might, making the metal creak and groan under the strain.

Jiang Yanyu lowered her gaze, tightening the woman’s clothes to prevent any snow from sneaking in to add to her chill.

Her other hand remained extended forward. The skin of her palm seemed to have suffered severe frostburn, gradually splitting with countless tiny, fine wounds. Blood flowed freely as if she didn’t even feel it.

Then, suddenly, her ear twitched slightly. She caught a sound amidst the howling wind and driving snow—something unusual.

Jiang Yanyu lifted her eyes towards the Ice Storage door and abruptly withdrew all her power.

The raging chaos inside the vault, which moments ago had resembled a storm, quieted to a dead silence in an instant. Ice crystals drifted slowly down in a gentle, indoor snowfall.

From outside the strained and scarred Black Iron door, the clicking sound of a lock’s tongue engaging and withdrawing could be heard.

Someone was opening the door.

Jiang Yanyu’s eyes narrowed slightly. Her original urge was to raise her hand again, but after tilting her head in thought for a moment, the hand covered in wounds reached behind her, scraping up a few sharp porcelain shards, ready and waiting.

After several dozen clicks, the lock fully disengaged. A moment of silence outside, then the Black Iron door began to creak and groan as it was pulled open. The gap widened, bit by bit, until it was wide enough for two people to pass through side-by-side.

Jiang Yanyu stood up, holding the person in her arms, and stared at the opened doorway.

Outside was still dark, a mass of pitch-blackness. But in the blink of an eye, a light as bright as day flared. A woman in a long, golden dress appeared beyond the door.

She had a good figure, the dress meticulously tailored to hug every curve without a single inch out of place. The skirt was darkly embroidered with magnificent golden peonies, elegant and captivating under the deliberately crafted light. The jewelry on her forehead was plentiful, piled gold and jade, her entire body streaming with the opulent beauty molded by unimaginable wealth.

This person was clearly no ordinary sight. Yet Jiang Yanyu only lifted her eyelids indolently. “Quan Feiyao.”

Quan Feiyao paused, surprised. “You recognize me?”

Jiang Yanyu walked forward, still holding the one in her arms. “How did you know we were here?”

In Quan Feiyao’s hand was a round silk fan, also trimmed with gold, its surface clustered with gilded flowers of riches. She fanned herself with slow, gentle waves, her voice soft and light.

“You delivered Dexin here—such a conspicuous display. Do you think I wouldn’t notice? I did a little inquiring about palace matters, and what a coincidence it was: some monster causing a ruckus over at the Imperial Treasury. It would have been difficult not to connect the dots.”

Jiang Yanyu replied, “More or less what I guessed.”

Quan Feiyao gently waved her fan, the ends of her hair brushing lightly over the embroidered peony on her dress. “In your arms… is that Dao Rhythm Immortal Lord?”

Jiang Yanyu’s voice softened slightly. “It is.”

Quan Feiyao stepped closer. “Not long ago, at the Four Seas Delicacies Restaurant, I invited the Immortal Lord to visit the Quan Family. I was rather harshly refused.”

Using a blade to carve the word ‘No’ onto paper was indeed a significant blow to one’s face. But that had been Jiang Yanyu’s deliberate intention. She answered carelessly, “That was me. I carved it.”

Quan Feiyao covered her mouth with a soft laugh. “No wonder.”

Losing patience, Jiang Yanyu cut to the chase. “Enough of that. So what now? What do you want?”

Quan Feiyao said, “I don’t want anything in particular. I was just curious and came to see. Why are you stealing from the Imperial Treasury? The two of you are quite famous figures in the Cultivation World, aren’t you? Aren’t you afraid of being discovered?”

Jiang Yanyu replied, “That’s none of your concern.”

She made as if to walk past and leave, but Quan Feiyao blocked her path. “Ah, now, am I not your savior, after all?”

Jiang Yanyu paused, then laughed. “Savior?”

“Even if you hadn’t come, I could have gotten out. And…”

She met Quan Feiyao’s eyes directly. “I know you’re not a good person. Don’t play pretend with me here. I won’t give you anything. I won’t do anything for you. And I won’t have any ‘relations’ with you. Give up on any thoughts that might be brewing in your head right now.”

“Also, a piece of advice from me: Don’t go looking for your sister anymore. Sooner or later, you’ll end up killing her.”

For the first time, the placid composure born from a lifetime of having whatever she wanted rippled. Quan Feiyao’s smile faded bit by bit as her gaze swept over the woman before her.

“You seem to know a lot about me?”

Jiang Yanyu thought to herself: More than you know. In the last life, you were the first child of a noble clan I ever killed. Consider it a mark of esteem.

She didn’t respond to the question and made to leave directly. Quan Feiyao spoke again. “What you said just now—could it be you know where my dear honorable sister is right now?”

Jiang Yanyu answered, “How would I know where she is? For now, don’t bother me. Get out of my way.”

Seeing her expression, cold and dark with a hidden viciousness, several of the martial officers guarding her moved to draw their blades and step forward. Quan Feiyao lightly shook her fan, signaling them to stand down. She herself stepped aside.

Jiang Yanyu carried her precious burden out through the vault door. Halfway through the treasury, she seemed to recall something and looked back. “We caused a bit of a mess in here and broke some things. You take care of it for us. As for the silk trade business in the Central Prefecture your Quan Family wants to gobble up… I can help with that.”

If the earlier words had merely caused Quan Feiyao slight surprise, these words now set off a solid, churning wave of shock deep in her heart.

She scrutinized Jiang Yanyu once more. “Where in the world are you getting your information?”

The woman in her arms seemed to let out a soft moan. Hearing it, Jiang Yanyu frowned. “Too many questions. Just tell me if you’ll handle it. I’m in a hurry.”

Quan Feiyao, a rarity for her, reined in her temper. “Tell me the specifics on how.”

Jiang Yanyu’s reply was crisp and direct. “After you’ve dealt with the mess here and wiped out all traces that my Senior Sister and I were ever here, release the news. Once I’ve confirmed it, I will have the information you want delivered to your manor.”

Quan Feiyao glanced around at the ruined treasures all over the chaotic, wrecked vault. “This is somewhat difficult, wouldn’t you say?”

Jiang Yanyu answered, “You seem to come and go from the Imperial Treasury as you please. Your Quan Family isn’t short on money to fill a few holes. Don’t tell me you’re incapable.”

Quan Feiyao’s eyes narrowed. She waved her fan a few more times. After a brief moment, she spoke. “Fine. I’ll agree to that, then.”

Jiang Yanyu said nothing more, simply holding the person close and speeding away.

Watching her figure disappear into the distance, Quan Feiyao turned her head back to the wreckage inside the Ice Storage and the marks on the Black Iron door. She shook her head slightly. “The world truly is full of strange people.”

Before leaving the Treasury, Jiang Yanyu glanced to the side. The divine statue of Eight White Jade Steeds, which had been on the ninth row of shelves, was gone. Shu Yizhong had already made his move, it seemed, though he probably hadn’t yet realized they weren’t inside.

She made her way back to the dilapidated, crumbling little building Song Xian had first brought them to. Inside the courtyard, the others were in the process of pulling the black cloth covering off the Steeds statue. Just as they unfastened the ties, they saw Jiang Yanyu walking through the gate with someone in her arms.

Shu Yizhong saw them and froze.

The black cloth was yanked down by Song Xian, revealing the silver-brilliant, dazzling statue of the Eight Steeds. She had been about to ask where the opening mechanism was when she, too, saw the person approaching.

The return had been too rushed; Jiang Yanyu hadn’t treated the wounds on her hands. Blood was smeared all over her clothes in various places. Coupled with her blank, expressionless face, it made people unsure of what to expect.

Shu Yizhong looked at the base of the statue, then at her. One hand went to his hip, the other covered his mouth.

After a moment, he asked, “Are you two alive, or are you vengeful spirits?”

Jiang Yanyu replied, “…Still breathing. We got the goods. Quickly, go prepare some hot tea for my Senior Sister.”

After firing off this string of orders, she handed the Heavenly Spring Water over and immediately headed into the room without a pause, laying the woman down on the bed.

Back in the Ice Storage, Yun Jinxue’s face and lips had been frozen to a deathly white, her eyelashes and hair coated with a layer of frost. Now that she was out, the warmth of Jiang Yanyu’s body had thawed some of it, leaving her damp.

Jiang Yanyu pulled the quilt over them both, holding the woman tight. Little by little, she channeled spiritual energy into her, soothing her frozen bones and gently warming the rigid meridians and channels.

After a long, long time, Yun Jinxue’s complexion finally looked somewhat better, a hint of pink gradually surfacing amidst the white.

Seeing her breathing return to normal, with no spike or drop in body temperature, Jiang Yanyu let out a soft sigh of relief.

The wounds on her hands were still untreated, but at least the bleeding had stopped now.

She spread her palm open and looked. From her palm to the back of her hand, even up to a stretch of her wrist, the skin was riddled with networks of fine cuts. In the deeper gashes, white bone was even visible—a truly alarming sight.

She closed her fist, then opened it again. Jiang Yanyu gave a soft, quiet laugh.

She had managed to keep this body, after all. That dog Quan Feiyao, annoying as she was, had at least helped her out in the end. She could make her future gift a little more generous, no harm done.

Song Xian knocked on the door and came in, bringing a cup of steaming ginger tea and some salves and bandages for wounds. She caught sight of Jiang Yanyu’s hands. “Do you need help?”

Jiang Yanyu shook her head, starting to apply the medicine herself. “No need. Thank you.”

Song Xian nodded and withdrew.

She smoothed the ointment evenly over the wounds, then wrapped them in gauze, using her teeth to bite off the end. Jiang Yanyu tended to her own wounds with practiced, efficient ease, humming a soft tune as she did.

After all of it was done, she wrapped her arms around the woman and lay down, murmuring softly, “Rest well now, Senior Sister.”