Chapter 27: The Subordinate Gu Part 1

Feng Yun’ai had never met anyone so arrogant. However, as she watched the monks mount their horses and depart, she breathed a sigh of relief. She turned and held out her hand. “Something fell off the scabbard.”

Sang Chencao narrowed her eyes, watching until the monks had completely vanished from sight before turning back. “What?”

The moment she turned, her gaze froze. A small whistle lay in Feng Yun’ai’s palm. Its color was identical to the scabbard of Solitary Gall; at first glance, it looked as if a section of the scabbard had simply been carved away.

“What is this whistle for?” Feng Yun’ai asked.

Sang Chencao didn’t wait for her to close her hand. She snatched the whistle away and held it up toward the sky, inspecting it. “An insect whistle? It looks a bit like one.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she pressed the whistle to her lips.

Feng Yun’ai had no time to stop her. Before she could utter a word, a shrill, piercing blast erupted from the whistle. It felt like a sharp arrow boring into her ears, forcing her to hurriedly cover them.

People hiding inside the inn came rushing to the doors. Those remaining inside stopped eating and drinking, their eyes glued to the scene outside.

The manager crept out from behind the door, his breath hitching at the sudden sound. Trembling, he asked, “You two… are you finished talking?”

As the whistling stopped, Feng Yun’ai hurriedly scanned her surroundings, far too preoccupied to answer.

Sang Chencao, however, let out another blast. She seemed utterly fearless of the possibility that the sound might attract venomous insects or giant pythons.

A rustling sound rose in the distance. Small things were swarming in the shadows.

Sang Chencao stopped blowing. Her eyes grew unnervingly bright, curving into a crescent shape as she spoke. “You wanted to know where Wen Lanxin is? In my opinion, she’s still in the city. I’ve heard she carried an insect whistle for over ten years; this must be it.”

The sound of crawling insects and snakes filled the air from all directions. The noise was faint; had they not been martial artists with extraordinary hearing, they might not have noticed it at all.

However, because the sound came from every side, it was impossible to pinpoint Wen Lanxin’s exact location.

Feng Yun’ai’s heart pounded like a drum. She snatched the whistle back from Sang Chencao and pressed it firmly back into the scabbard. “The sword is here,” she said coldly. “Will she come for it?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Sang Chencao shrugged slightly. Clearly, the sword strike she had used to break the formation earlier had caused her no harm. She maintained her leisurely posture, turning to saunter back into the inn.

The manager didn’t dare stop her, even though this “Demoness” was the one who had driven the monks away.

Feng Yun’ai suddenly leveled her scabbard against Sang Chencao’s shoulder, frowning. “Wen Lanxin is in the city, and you… you still want to rest?”

Sang Chencao glanced at her and smiled. “You’re the one who wants to see her, not me.”

Feng Yun’ai retracted her sword, making a move to leave. She thought to herself that if this indigo-clothed woman wanted to rest, let her. If she didn’t look for Wen Lanxin now, when would she?

Sang Chencao turned around with her arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. “Wait until the dead of night. The insects and snakes will surely gather in one place to wait for feeding. It won’t be too late to find her then. Don’t be in such a hurry.”

This was a perspective Feng Yun’ai had never considered. None of the books she had read covered the husbandry of insects and snakes, so she naturally didn’t understand the logic. Her footsteps faltered. Looking away, she admitted, “That… does make some sense.”

Sang Chencao raised an eyebrow and headed upstairs.

After all the commotion, few people remained in the inn’s common room. Only a few bold souls dared to stay, continuing to drink and eat.

As Feng Yun’ai took a few steps, she felt a dull pain in her chest. A metallic taste rose in her throat, signaling that she had sustained internal injuries. She secretly adjusted her inner qi, and her pace slowed considerably.

Sang Chencao, already halfway up the stairs, stopped and looked down with disdain. “Did no one ever teach you? You can’t meet every technique with a direct frontal defense. The Golden Arhat Formation protects Cuiyu Temple not because it’s an impenetrable fortress, but because it’s intimidating. In truth, it’s riddled with weaknesses.”

Feng Yun’ai looked up, her expression unchanging.

Sang Chencao chuckled, continuing up the stairs while trailing her hand along the railing. “Though, I must say, you did surprise me. Being able to withstand a palm strike from the Golden Arhat Formation… you actually have a bit of Feng Rong’s old flair.”

Feng Yun’ai’s breath was still a bit weak. She said tonelessly, “Did Wen Lanxin also fight with such unconventional methods back then?”

Sang Chencao’s expression turned cold. Even though the corners of her mouth remained curved, her face was filled with contempt.

Feng Yun’ai vaguely felt that this indigo-clothed woman likely disliked Wen Lanxin. If they truly were master and disciple, they were a very strange pair indeed.

Once the two returned to their room, the manager didn’t dare knock. He didn’t even dare utter a single word, merely sending a waiter with food as if he were making an offering to two deities. If he couldn’t kick them out, he could only pray they would take it easy and not ruin his business.

As Feng Yun’ai sat in the room regulating her breath, the indigo-clothed woman lay on the bed, seemingly fast asleep.