Chapter 14: Bound by Silk

In the silent room, the two women stood in a wordless standoff, watching each other through the veils of their respective hats.

Feng Yun’ai stepped forward, giving Sang Chencao no chance to refuse. She struck first, making a move to seize Sang Chencao’s wrist at the tiger’s mouth so she could tie the hair ribbon around it.

Sang Chencao mirrored the motion, her hand sweeping up to meet her. However, her palm wind was strangely soft and yielding, seemingly devoid of even a shred of internal power.

It was like a silver needle striking cotton, or a stone sinking into deep water.

Feng Yun’ai paused. Before she even made contact, her palm technique was inexplicably dispersed.

As their palms finally met, the slight touch jolted Feng Yun’ai back to her senses. She realized with a start that during both of their brief exchanges, this woman’s body felt preternaturally hot.

It wasn’t the heat of boiling water, nor the fever of a common cold; it was as if her qi and blood were surging through her meridians at a fever pitch, radiating warmth from within.

The woman appeared calm enough, far removed from those impulsive martial artists who let their emotions dictate their energy. Why was her blood so restless?

Feng Yun’ai had no time to investigate further. She immediately seized Sang Chencao’s wrist and tied the white silk hair ribbon around it.

She realized the woman hadn’t truly intended to refuse. What had looked like a defensive move was, in truth, an intentional invitation.

After wrapping the white silk twice, Feng Yun’ai spoke in a cool tone. “Until the truth comes to light, you and I travel together.”

“And if I have urgent matters to attend to?” Sang Chencao asked unhurriedly. “Is your behavior not a bit too unreasonable?”

Feng Yun’ai tightened the white silk and turned away, the various blades on her person clattering. “And to whom should the dead speak of reason?” she asked coldly.

“One was a scapegoat, the other deserved to die. What reason is there to speak of?” Sang Chencao laughed carelessly.

Feng Yun’ai looked back. “The one holding the knife won’t stop at those two.”

“Still hoping to turn the tide and use this to spread the fame of your Blade Lending Sect?” Sang Chencao scoffed. “You aren’t exactly a paragon of kindness and meticulousness yourself.”

Feng Yun’ai did not argue.

But Sang Chencao continued in her slow drawl, “You can’t go against those wicked cults alone. In my opinion, you’d be better off becoming the one to Pluck the Blossom yourself and take control of the Hantian Alliance. Your kung fu isn’t bad—how much of it are you still hiding?”

Feng Yun’ai caught the hidden meaning in her words and replied coldly, “I have no interest in the title. I did not kill those people.”

“Then I’ll say the same. I didn’t kill them either.” Behind the indigo veil, Sang Chencao narrowed her eyes.

Feng Yun’ai raised her own wrist, which was also bound by a loop of the white silk. “Since that is the case, you should keep an eye on me as well. All the more reason for us to stay together.”

“Stubborn,” Sang Chencao clicked her tongue.

“As for Innkeeper Lin’s fake death…” Feng Yun’ai began, lowering her eyes.

“Do not go spreading word of Lin Yaoyao’s fake death. If you do, that little maid won’t let it go, and she might just go looking for her own death tomorrow,” Sang Chencao said in a ghostly voice. “We were both fooled. Lin Yaoyao definitely knows martial arts; she hid it better than a corpse.”

Feng Yun’ai fell silent.

“Weren’t we going to Yellow Sand Cliff?” Sang Chencao’s lips curled. “Are we going or not?”

Feng Yun’ai had arrived with very little luggage, so she left empty-handed, save for the swords and sabers clattering at her side in the wind.

The Yao Yao Inn felt more desolate than ever. Even the workers were no longer busy. By now, almost all the guests, martial artists or not, had checked out.

The little maid stood in Lin Yaoyao’s old spot, flipping through the ledger with a hint of flustered desperation, refunding deposits as she scribbled notes.

Seeing the two women preparing to leave, the maid whispered fearfully, “I heard just now… you are going to Yellow Sand Cliff.”

“What of it? We aren’t taking any dead weight with us,” Sang Chencao said bluntly.

The maid bit her lip and lowered her head. “My Sister isn’t a truly evil person. She must have been deluded by bad people. I don’t know anything about the Sun Chasing Cult or Yellow Sand Cliff, and I’ve never heard of Wen Lanxin, but…”

Tears began to fall. “I beg you two, find the person behind this. My Sister might not be innocent, but she was surely tricked by someone wicked!”

Feng Yun’ai averted her gaze; she did not like watching people cry.

Sang Chencao chuckled. “Even without the Sun Chasing Cult, she would have killed that gang of sand bandits and Hu Cheng. She’s wanted to kill them for ten years. How can you call that being ‘tricked’?”

The maid froze.

Caravans frequently passed through the great desert, and the faces were always changing. Since this was the only inn on this route, it wouldn’t be long before the murders were buried deep beneath the shifting yellow sands.

The camel bells chimed in harmony with the clashing of Feng Yun’ai’s blades. The white and indigo figures amidst the yellow sand looked like rare desert flowers.

It was still early. Fortunately, they both had their veiled hats to block the sun, so even the slow pace of the camels wasn’t too unbearable.

They weren’t on the same camel. Whenever they drifted apart, the white silk would pull taut.

Sang Chencao sat with her arms crossed, leaning against the camel’s hump. She gave her wrist a shake. “With this thing tied to us, even the camel walks with restraint. Why don’t we wait until we’re out of this sand river before we tie ourselves back together?”

The woman in white looked back at her and didn’t respond.

“It’s a long road. Why don’t you tell me about your sect?” Sang Chencao asked meaningfully, then smiled. “Oh, I forgot. You’re the only one left. Speaking of it might just make you sad.”

Feng Yun’ai lowered her arm, which held the silk ribbon. A gust of gale-force wind blew past, outlining her slender shoulders and arms. She asked coldly, “Do you even have a sect?”

The woman had gone to Yellow Sand Cliff to seek a master only to be turned away, making it sound as if she had no sect at all.

Sang Chencao’s words were always barbed. “Better that than to have had one and lost everything in the end.”

“It is not ‘had’. My sect has never disappeared,” Feng Yun’ai stated.

“When you look back, isn’t it all just a dream and a shadow?” Sang Chencao scoffed.

Feng Yun’ai chose to ignore her. Following the wooden signs driven into the sand, they made their way out of Listening Moon Sand River.

From sunset until the night filled the sky, their dresses, which had felt thick earlier, now seemed a bit thin against the cold.

Once they left the sand river, camels were no longer the best mode of transport. They were forced to swap for two fast horses at a nearby market.

Throughout the process, the thin white silk never loosened. The stable hand stared at them repeatedly, but given the number of martial artists passing through, he assumed it was some sort of duel or wager between masters and didn’t ask questions.

Horses in this region were not cheap. Feng Yun’ai hesitated for a brief moment when she pulled out her coin purse—a pause Sang Chencao caught.

Once the payment was made, the stable master happily handed over the reins.

Feng Yun’ai intended to mount her horse, but Sang Chencao suddenly yanked the silk tight, causing her to stumble back.

Immediately, a warm breath brushed against her ear. For a moment, Feng Yun’ai wasn’t sure who was actually restraining whom with this ribbon.

Sang Chencao’s voice was low. “I think you should stop lending those swords and sabers you’re carrying.”

“Why do you say that?” Feng Yun’ai glanced back.

“Sell them.” Sang Chencao pressed close, her eyes actually roaming over the weapons on Feng Yun’ai’s person. She sighed in admiration. “There are so many pearls and jades inlaid on these blades. This overwhelming wealth has finally fallen into our laps.”

“Ours?” Feng Yun’ai was confused again. Even if there were jewels on her blades, what did it have to do with this woman?

Sang Chencao said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “Share and share alike.”

It was pure banditry, even if she was only speaking and hadn’t made a move yet.

Feng Yun’ai shifted her wrist and sent a palm strike behind her. The woman pressing close was forced to retreat a step.

“Attacking without a word?” Sang Chencao laughed instead of getting angry.

Feng Yun’ai flipped onto her horse and looked down at her. “We are merely traveling together. We haven’t reached the point of sharing fortunes.”

“You are the one who insisted I come along, so naturally, you must provide for my food and clothing.” Sang Chencao mounted her horse leisurely. She was suddenly very curious if the face beneath that white veil was just as cold and heartless.

Feng Yun’ai didn’t agree. Without a word, she nudged the horse’s flank.

The horse kicked off, galloping out of the stable. Because they were tied together by the white silk, the horse behind was forced to gallop after it.

As they rode, the freezing wind became overwhelming. Feng Yun’ai hurriedly circulated her internal power to protect her body.

She cast a glance back and saw the woman in indigo still looking perfectly relaxed, not using a single drop of internal power.

It was impossible to tell if she was simply used to it and didn’t fear the cold, or if she was completely devoid of sensation.