Feng Yun’ai felt a twinge of reluctance, but she didn’t strictly need to keep it. Lowering her eyes, she said softly, “Let’s go down. Let’s find that coffin shop you mentioned.”
Sang Chencao pointed a finger and spoke casually. “They’re coming up this mountain path. Avoiding them shouldn’t be hard. You go down the other side; I’ll go see who Zhou Gui is with.”
“By yourself?” Feng Yun’ai turned her head sharply.
Sang Chencao leaned in intimately, her forehead against Feng Yun’ai’s. “Or is it that Xiuxiu is afraid to go down the mountain alone?”
How could Feng Yun’ai be afraid? She tilted her head to avoid the restless breath winding toward her, glancing sideways at the woman. “I’m afraid that through a moment’s lapse, you’ll stumble and fail.”
“Xiuxiu is actually worried about me.” Sang Chencao laughed joyfully. She wasn’t even afraid her laughter would wake anyone; she was truly a law unto herself.
“Where do we meet?” Feng Yun’ai didn’t want to trade barbs with her.
Sang Chencao stopped laughing and said lazily, “Don’t wander off at the foot of the mountain. I’ll find you once I’ve cleared things up. But if you want to leave, that’s fine too; my insects will surely lead me to you.”
An ordinary person would find those words hair-raising, for this woman was sinister, and her words sounded like an eternal, inescapable entanglement.
Feng Yun’ai turned away. “Take care.”
“You can’t part ways with me now, Xiuxiu.” Having said that, Sang Chencao held her breath and descended. Her footsteps were nearly non-existent; it would not be strange to call her a ghost.
Watching her figure vanish into the dancing shadows of the trees, Feng Yun’ai passed through the sleeping crowd and headed down the mountain. Along the way, there was nothing to be heard but the chirping of insects.
In such silence, she couldn’t help but want to stay a while longer, to let Feng Rong see Listening Goose Peak and the moonlight one last time.
She wondered if things were going smoothly on Sang Chencao’s end.
Fortunately, this side of the mountain base was not close to the Martial Arts Alliance’s city walls. This was the outskirts; she would have to walk another two miles to see any scattered houses.
Feng Yun’ai stood still with Feng Rong on her back. She didn’t want to set her down anywhere, especially since this place was desolate and surrounded by trees. She didn’t know if any villains were hiding in the shadows; she couldn’t let Feng Rong’s body be taken again.
This kind of tranquility was also quite strange.
With so many people guarding Listening Goose Peak, the base of the mountain shouldn’t be this neglected.
Sure enough, the leaves rustled—like a sudden downpour. A rapidly spinning object approached from a distance, its momentum not to be underestimated.
The drill-like object spun closer, drawing the surrounding airflow into it, instantly becoming as sharp as a bone-shaving blade.
If this hit a person, it would surely bore a massive hole right through them.
Feng Yun’ai hurriedly shifted to avoid it. She raised her arm, using the scabbard of Solitary Gall to deflect the air currents, dispersing the opponent’s attack.
The scabbard was hard and unyielding, yet in her control, it was like a hand brushing the wind, shattering the swirling vortex in a few strokes.
The concentrated cone of white light collapsed into fragments. As the inner qi splattered, the person hidden within was fully exposed—an elderly woman of short stature holding a Vajra Umbrella.
The old woman hadn’t expected her inner qi to be dispersed by this unknown girl. The moment she retracted the umbrella, she leaped backward, hanging upside down from a tree. “Who dares trespass on Listening Goose Peak at night?”
Feng Yun’ai felt a prickle of annoyance, though her face remained expressionless. Listening Goose Peak had originally belonged to her and Feng Rong. To be accused of trespassing now was truly…
Truly unjust.
“Just passing through,” Feng Yun’ai said softly.
The old woman immediately noticed the white silk over Feng Yun’ai’s face and eyes. “Qiushui Pavilion?” she asked, puzzled.
Feng Yun’ai didn’t want to involve Qiushui Pavilion, especially now that she knew Sui Jianxue had been the one hiding Feng Rong’s body. She gave a terse denial: “No.”
“Then who are you?” The old woman tilted her head to look behind Feng Yun’ai. “What is that on your back?” she asked suspiciously.
“A person.” Feng Yun’ai kept her eyes lowered, not wanting the cold killing intent from her heart to make the other party more suspicious.
The old woman didn’t believe her. “Let me see! Dead or alive!” she shouted.
With that, the old woman violently spun the Vajra Umbrella. The edges of the umbrella ribs snapped off, becoming silver needle hidden weapons. As she swung the umbrella, numerous needles showered down toward Feng Yun’ai like scattered flower petals.
Feng Yun’ai raised Solitary Gall and spun it, applying internal power to create a barrier of swirling air.
Unexpectedly, the canopy of the Vajra Umbrella flipped and folded, turning into a shroud facing Feng Yun’ai.
The old woman thrust the umbrella forward, adding momentum to the flying needles. Her inner qi was sent forth as well, each needle coated in a terrifying, frigid glow.
Feng Yun’ai rotated her scabbard, forcefully blocking the oncoming force. Then, with a flick of her wrist, the silver needles reversed direction, each one landing perfectly back into its original slot on the umbrella ribs.
A clink sounded like the impact of metal on stone, and the folded umbrella canopy snapped back into place.
The old woman nearly lost her grip on the umbrella. In shock, she drew a long sword from the umbrella handle. “What powerful martial arts,” she snarled. “Who exactly are you?”
One was an unsheathed sword, the other was the Linghan scabbard. The former was peerlessly light, the latter heavy and difficult to wield—the superior and inferior were already clear.
Furthermore, Feng Yun’ai was still carrying a corpse. Her steps were slightly heavy. She could handle a direct clash, but if it came down to movement techniques, she would have no way to respond.
Just as the old woman’s sword was about to shave her hair, a flexible sword coiled tightly around the umbrella-sword like a snake.
“Xiuxiu, oh Xiuxiu.” Sang Chencao glided like a ghost to Feng Yun’ai’s back. “How will you thank me?” she chuckled.
The flexible sword completely locked the umbrella-sword in place. Its tip even pierced the old woman’s wrist, as if it intended to strip the marrow from her bones.
The old woman let go in terror and retreated. “There’s an accomplice!”
Sang Chencao immediately retracted her sword, standing sideways behind Feng Yun’ai so her true face couldn’t be seen.
As the umbrella-sword was about to hit the ground, Feng Yun’ai kicked it up and caught it steadily in her hand.
When she looked again, the old woman was nowhere to be seen. She had likely gone to report.
Feng Yun’ai examined the umbrella-sword in her hand and moved to put it away.
“You want that too?” Sang Chencao asked, surprised.
“Where do you think all these swords on my person came from?” Feng Yun’ai said calmly.
