Chapter 27: Joining the Bustle

At this moment, the hundred-household office was empty, with only a few people remaining.

In the morning light, messenger pigeons flew in from time to time.

As early as four double-hours ago, Shen Qing had dispatched all the Embroidered Uniform Guard in pairs to monitor each sect, reporting their movements every hour.

Even if we cornered that rogue cultivator in West City, West City is no tiny spot; with just these few dozen men of the hundred-household office, finding him would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, especially since he is an Innate Realm cultivator intent on hiding.

Let these sects handle the needle-in-a-haystack task; Shen Qing's job is to snatch the needle once they've fished it out.

After all, searching for it personally can't be as quick as just taking it.

Fang Ming continuously received reports from the messenger pigeons and relayed them to Shen Qing.

"At the first quarter of the chen hour, the Blackwater Gang and Yellow Sand Gang had a minor clash, with no other abnormalities."

"At the third quarter of the chen hour, the Scarlet Cloud Sect…"

After monitoring these sects for several double-hours, there was no movement at all.

Only at noon did some changes occur.

Fang Ming rushed in, clutching a secret letter, into Shen Qing's room.

"Sir! There's a development—the Yellow Sand Gang seems to have mobilized en masse, heading east."

The scholar hurriedly looked at the map and made a quick comparison.

"Boss, to the east of the Yellow Sand Gang's base lie only Mud Bottle Street and Long Water Street."

"They must have caught wind of that rogue cultivator's movements."

Shen Qing kept his eyes closed and said lightly.

"No rush, keep scouting and reporting."

Another span of time to finish a cup of tea passed.

"Sir, it's certain—the rogue cultivator is definitely on Long Water Street; both the Yellow Sand and Blackwater Gangs have headed there."

Shen Qing's lips curled up.

"Heigou, take your blade."

"Let's go join the fun too."

At this very moment, Long Water Street and Mud Bottle Street have fallen into utter chaos, like a pot of porridge.

The martial world sects have already locked onto the rogue cultivator's hiding place.

Residents of both streets were fleeing outward, and every now and then yamen runners could be seen driving them away.

Obviously, some martial sects had sought the yamen's assistance.

Flying Cloud Street was crowded with people who had been driven there.

In a tea house's second floor, a white-clad girl was leisurely eating pastries and sipping tea.

She was Su Jiudie, daughter of the sect leader of the Red Cloud Sect.

By her side, a youth in black clothes kept gazing toward Long Water Street, his face unusually anxious.

"Junior Sister, shouldn't we go take a look? They're right in Long Water Street."

Su Jiudie also poured a cup of tea for the man.

"Senior Brother Zong Fang, on this trip we shouldn't be thinking about any treasures."

"The Third Elder has already left; with just us two at the Acquired Realm, what treasure could we seize?"

Zong Fang paced back and forth a few steps, then stomped his foot, sat opposite Su Jiudie, and gulped down his tea like a cow drinking water.

"That's true, but the treasure is right before our eyes; missing it would be truly agonizing."

Su Jiudie gave him a sideways glance: "What if we miss it? Do you really think getting this treasure would make our Red Cloud Sect the number one sect in Yongning Prefecture?"

"Senior Brother, do you still remember what the Grand Elder always kept saying?"

"The sect's prosperity…"

Zong Fang cut off Su Jiudie's words.

"I remember, I remember."

"Whether a sect thrives or not has never depended on the number of treasures, but on its people."

Immediately afterward, Zong Fang muttered a few more words under his breath.

"All day long it's just about reveling with the people and putting them first, but what good is that? The Red Cloud Sect, despite nine centuries of inheritance, has never reached the pinnacle of Yongning Prefecture's martial world…"

Just then, a loud boom came from Flying Cloud Street, accompanied by a few shouts.

Zong Fang immediately ran to the window and glanced out a few times.

"Looks like it's the Blackwater Gang's people; they've started fighting with the Yellow Sand Gang."

"The leader is the mad swordsman Wang Xiu, hehehe, again this idiot."

"He's gone mad again—what's he making a fuss about on the main street?"

"Hey, Junior Sister, where are you going? Wait for me…"

When Zong Fang turned around, he saw Su Jiudie already heading downstairs; he hurriedly grabbed his blade and followed.

On the main street, Wang Xiu's sword forced back three Yellow Sand Gang disciples, and the fierce sword qi's aftershock also injured several civilians.

The street instantly filled with wails, and civilians scattered in all directions.

But Wang Xiu paid no heed; instead, he laughed loudly and shamelessly.

"Are you the leaders of this generation of Yellow Sand Gang disciples? You seem quite ordinary."

Several Yellow Sand Gang disciples' faces showed some resentment.

"Wang Xiu, what are you being arrogant about? You only know how to bully us—half a year ago you were still defeated by our senior senior brother."

Obviously this stung Wang Xiu a little; his face flushed slightly.

"Six months ago was six months ago; now is now—let him come try again."

"Besides, how am I someone you can judge?"

"Look at the sword!"

Before his words finished, Wang Xiu thrust his sword at the three disciples.

The three disciples, knowing they couldn't win, turned to flee, but this escape brought suffering to the several civilians behind them.

Seeing this sword aura about to pierce these few people.

At this critical moment, a blue folding fan stabbed in, firmly blocking all the sword aura; the fierce collision kicked up dust all over the sky.

The several fleeing Yellow Sand Gang members stopped; Wang Xiu merely said coldly:

"Who is it?"

"Senior Brother Wang, why must you fight here? Hurting civilians won't sit well with the court." A voice of Su Jiu Die came from the smoke and dust.

The next moment, Su Jiu Die lightly waved her fan to disperse the surrounding smoke and dust.

"In my opinion, today we should just stop fighting here."

Wang Xiu gave a manic laugh.

"What if I say no?"

"Red Cloud Sect's Junior Sister Su, I've long heard of your great name; I've always wanted to test your mettle."

Su Jiu Die sighed; she also knew that relying solely on persuasion would hardly sway Wang Xiu.

This Wang Xiu has been unusually violent since birth; fighting just one peer a day is considered good.

Yet, oddly, some talent was taken notice of by the Black Water Gang and he became a disciple.

At this moment, several Yellow Sand Gang disciples also turned back and shouted:

"Senior Sister Su, why don't we join forces to dampen his spirit?"

Su Jiu Die did not respond to them.

She came to stop this fight and protect the civilians, not to participate in their brawl.

Su Jiu Die's voice was clear and cold; she slowly circulated her internal energy, her face turning a few degrees colder.

"Senior Brother Zong Fang, protect the civilians."

"I'll stop Wang Xiu."

Zong Fang would have liked to go and exchange blows with Wang Xiu, but seeing Su Jiu Die's tone so firm, he didn't say much more.

He turned to help the fallen civilians up.

"Piercing Wind!" Wang Xiu shouted loudly, a sword breaking the wind thrust toward Su Jiu Die.

Su Jiu Die tapped her foot, using exquisite footwork to dodge the sword aura; her folding fan gave a slight pat, sending a wave of air toward Wang Xiu's chest.

Su Jiu Die chose to overcome hardness with softness; meeting force with force was obviously not wise.

The two fought back and forth, actually ending in an even split.

An approximately forty- or fifty-year-old old woman was helped up by Zong Fang; watching the scene's Su Jiu Die, she couldn't help but speak.

"Little girl, be careful."

Zong Fang laughed heartily: "Auntie, don't worry, this is my junior sister, the daughter of our Red Cloud Sect's Sect Leader, she's formidable."

Then he leaned close to the old woman's ear and whispered softly: "The one fighting my junior sister is a mad swordsman of the Black Water Gang; the other three fighting him are members of the Yellow Sand Gang."

This remark was deliberately made by Zong Fang; after all, the old woman's fighting prowess at the village entrance is obvious; soon, the circle around her will spread the word that the Red Cloud Sect saves lives and heals wounds, while the Yellow Sand Gang and Black Water Gang act lawlessly.

Sectarian struggles are sometimes just this plain and unadorned.

The two exchanged blows for dozens of rounds, and Su Jiu Die felt increasingly strained.

After all, her age and cultivation level are slightly inferior to Wang Xiu's.

Moreover, Wang Xiu grew more violent the longer he fought.

His sword technique became ever more explosive; each strike destroyed buildings.

Either it was a roadside stall, or the walls, pillars, and beams of roadside houses.

If one said Wang Xiu still retained a shred of humanity at the start, now he has gone completely berserk, only wanting to defeat Su Jiu Die before him, kill her, and cut her into countless pieces.

In midair, Wang Xiu's vessels gradually became clearly visible; a strange red appeared on his meridians, gathering toward his right hand.

Wang Xiu's face showed a manic smile.

"To die under my strike, you can be proud enough."

"Blood Origin Sword!"

A sword thrust out, thick bloody sword aura straight at Su Jiu Die's face, making the surrounding air feel extremely heavy.

On the other side, Zong Fang couldn't bother with the civilians; he simply lunged forward and shoved Su Jiu Die aside, but he himself couldn't dodge.

Only a sound of flesh tearing was heard; this sword aura directly opened a fist-sized blood hole in his abdomen.

Yet this bloody sword aura, after passing through Zong Fang, still continued forward.

And ahead of the sword aura, a dark-skinned laborer stared with blank eyes and fear.

He was merely a dockworker who had worked a month at the dock; after exploitation by his superiors, he had just earned a meager wage, wanting to go home to buy some things for his wife and son.

Finding his money pouch lost, he turned back to pick it up, never expecting such a disaster to occur.

That sword aura drew ever closer; even if it were about to dissipate, it was not something an ordinary person could withstand.

In the end, the laborer despairingly closed his eyes, clutching the money pouch tight in his bosom, hoping only that after his death someone would give the pouch to his wife.

But after a long while, the imagined death did not befall him; he nervously opened his eyes.

What came into view was an embroidered silver-patterned flying fish robe, and a long blade emitting a faint blue light.