Chapter 134: One Hundred and Forty-One: The Skirt Blade First Drenched in Blood

One Hundred and Forty-One: The Skirt Blade First Drenched in Blood

"The Female Immortal thinks… how is this handling?"

In the bamboo grove, within the Guest Waiting Pavilion.

Yan Liu Liu clasped his fists and asked the returning, official-clad "Jade Cup Female Immortal" outside the pavilion with respectful tone.

Observing up close this illusion so lifelike it seemed real, Yan Liu Liu and Liu Qi couldn't help exchanging a glance.

Is this truly the legendary Qi Refiner? Such a substitution trick— the real man was already beheaded inside the Beitian Tian Jiyang Academy, yet this illusionary double has taken his place, manipulating those outside as if they were pawns…

Both men's eyes revealed a flicker of fear.

Outside the pavilion, Magistrate Ouyang Rong did not immediately respond.

His silence imposed heavy pressure on Liu Qi and Yan Liu Liu; they began to wonder if they had made a mistake.

The air between inside and outside the pavilion grew still.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong silently retracted his step, turning to flee.

He stood in place, studying the thin monkey-like man and the burly man inside the pavilion with steady gaze.

He glanced at the pitiful, unconscious woman with long hair lying on the ground.

He also looked at the tray on the table, where a jade-hilted sandalwood skirt blade lay still.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong's hands, previously tucked in his sleeves, lowered slowly to hang at his sides.

Beyond the events unfolding inside and outside the pavilion, coupled with the fragments of information these two strangers had revealed…

The volume of information was overwhelming.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong pressed his lips together, then nodded slightly toward Yan Liu Liu and Liu Qi inside the pavilion.

The two men, still catching their breath, immediately saw Magistrate Ouyang Rong stride forward into the pavilion, coming to stand beside them.

Yan Liu Liu and Liu Qi both bowed their heads, stepping aside to make way.

Yan Liu Liu smiled obsequiously: "Does the Female Immortal have any further orders?"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong extended a finger toward the direction of the Beitian Tian Jiyang Academy beyond the bamboo grove, and slowly opened his mouth to ask softly:

"Inside… is the man… dead?"

Yan Liu Liu nodded quickly, answering offhandedly:

"Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan has been inside for half an hour and hasn't come out—he's been dead for sure, though we don't know how he died.

"Hey, just hope that young hero from Chang'an didn't go too hard on him; otherwise, reassembling the corpse will be a hassle—we can't make it look convincingly like suicide."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong raised an eyebrow.

He held back from glancing back toward the Beitian Tian Jiyang Academy.

His lips curved slightly as if to speak, but upon catching the lingering reverent glances from the two men before him, he flattened his mouth, even letting it droop downward.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong shifted from his usual familiar, gentle tone to one of calm, cold, even stern authority:

"Hmm. But better go inside and confirm first."

As expected, Yan Liu Liu and Liu Qi showed no doubt or frown at Magistrate Ouyang Rong's demeanor; they grew even more cautious, bowing deeply:

"Yes, Female Immortal—you're right to be cautious. We were careless. We'll go in and check right away."

"Hmph."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong let out a light snort, nodded, then shook his head.

Yan Liu Liu and Liu Qi, who had been watching his face closely, were now utterly at a loss—dealing with such an unpredictable, temperamental old woman as a superior was truly difficult.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong lowered his eyes to adjust his sleeves, murmuring softly:

"Deal with it now."

The bookish, frail man stood calmly before the two burly men, tilting his head slightly to glance at the unconscious woman on the ground.

Liu Qi, nudged gently by Yan Liu Liu, finally caught on and nodded hastily:

"Female Immortal, I'll carry her—I'll go dig a hole in the bamboo grove first."

Liu Qi stepped forward, grabbed one of the woman's legs, and dragged her out of the pavilion; her small bald head bounced rhythmically as she hit each step with a "de-de-de."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong suppressed a twitch at the corner of his mouth, then, after a moment's thought, said coldly:

"How are you doing this? Dragging her on the ground—what about the trail?"

"Oh! Oh!" Liu Qi froze, then lifted the woman onto his shoulder and carried her out of the pavilion, heading deep into the bamboo grove.

With the burly man temporarily gone, only the young county magistrate and the thin monkey-like man remained inside the pavilion.

Yan Liu Liu made no suspicion, bowing low:

"Female Immortal, I'll go check on the Beitian Tian Jiyang Academy—see how Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan died. Won't disturb you further. Retrieve your skirt blade and hurry over—don't let Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan's men grow suspicious."

"Mm."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong gave a nasal reply, noncommittal.

He lifted his foot and stepped forward, moving noiselessly to stand before Yan Liu Liu.

The distance between them was less than two steps—nearly touching.

Yan Liu Liu froze, halting his retreat, and lowered his voice to whisper:

"Does the Female Immortal have any other orders?"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong kept his hands behind his back, eyes lowered.

His calm expression revealed nothing of what he was thinking.

He seemed to deliberate a moment, choosing his words carefully:

"The Liu family… hmm… how is it?"

Yan Liu Liu, bent close to whisper with Magistrate Ouyang Rong, looked puzzled, blurting out:

"Didn't the Elder Lord already arrange everything? The Female Immortal just needs to bring the body over—the Elder Lord and Second Lord are waiting for you at Digong Zhai… what's there to be unsure about?"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong glanced sideways at Yan Liu Liu.

He immediately frowned and nodded: "Do you think I don't know that? What I meant to ask… never mind, hmph."

Yan Liu Liu's face paled slightly, his voice trembling:

"Forgive me, Female Immortal—I'm a crude man, spoke out of turn. Please don't hold it against this lowly servant. Whatever else you wish to ask, just say it."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong glared coldly at him, then fell silent.

Yan Liu Liu grew even more panicked, his body trembling—he had done well among the Liu family's servants and household-born slaves, with deep connections.

He had heard rumors of this female priestess from the Dragon King Temple's deeds inside the Ancient Yue Sword Shop, and his fear deepened.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong observed Yan Liu Liu's reaction silently.

He stepped back suddenly, spread his arms, spun half a circle on the spot, and sneered: "Does this outfit look convincing?"

Yan Liu Liu nodded frantically, quickly shifting from the previous awkward topic, clapping and flattering:

"Perfect, perfect, absolutely perfect—the Female Immortal's divine arts are beyond mortal comprehension; you've become an exact replica of that naive county magistrate."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong smiled faintly, glanced at the sky beyond the pavilion, and let his gaze drift toward the bamboo grove where Liu Qi had vanished.

He turned calmly toward the stone table holding the tray, and tilted his chin slightly.

A silent gesture.

Yan Liu Liu stepped forward at once, alertly approaching the table.

On the tray lay a red silk cloth edged with gold thread.

The thin man cupped his palms upward, lifting the sandalwood scabbard of the jade-hilted skirt blade through the gold-edged red cloth.

He returned to Magistrate Ouyang Rong's side, bowed low, and offered it with utmost care.

"Female Immortal, please!"

Magistrate Ouyang Rong, as if preparing to depart with the skirt blade, smiled, his eyes filled with satisfaction as he glanced at Yan Liu Liu.

Yan Liu Liu, watching closely, felt his tension ease.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong stepped forward, closing the distance to Yan Liu Liu.

He lifted his chin slightly, relaxed and casual, and raised his right hand to take the blade.

But to Yan Liu Liu's surprise, Magistrate Ouyang Rong's right hand did not grasp the scabbard or blade—it closed around the jade hilt and drew the blade sideways.

Before Yan Liu Liu could think, his hands instinctively tightened on the scabbard through the red cloth, helping the calm-faced youth draw the blade free.

Beneath the quiet slanting sunlight entering the pavilion, the white, dazzling blade of the jade-hilted skirt blade—belonging exclusively to a daughter of the Five Surnames—was drawn slowly, then swiftly, from its sandalwood sheath.

From slow to fast, from gentle to abrupt, from silence to the blade's hiss against the scabbard.

Then came a sharp "zheng."

What followed inside the pavilion was a surreal scene, unfolding like a silent black-and-white film:

The tall, thin man held the blade aloft, offering it respectfully, gripping the scabbard tightly to aid the youth in drawing it—while the youth's other arm pulled the man into his chest, pressing close; the snow-white blade slid effortlessly into the man's chest.

The razor-sharp blade pierced flesh without a sound.

Like a silver fork sinking into a freshly baked warm butter cake.

The only sound in the air was the erratic thudding of the tall man's heart.

It was the only sound Magistrate Ouyang Rong could hear, pressed against Yan Liu Liu.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong's peripheral vision caught each erratic heartbeat causing the man's body to jerk—his stunned face still half-smiling, the curved corner of his mouth gushing hot blood.

"Little sister's skirt blade… is good."

This was the only thought that surfaced in Magistrate Ouyang Rong's mind—the second time he had killed.

Yan Liu Liu's body leaned forward, slumping; Magistrate Ouyang Rong steadied him with one hand on his shoulder.

Between the two pressed bodies:

One hand gripped the jade hilt—pale, bloodless, veins standing out starkly.

He trembled as he gripped the hilt with deathly tightness.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong's expression remained calm; he shifted from supporting to shoving, casually thrusting Yan Liu Liu forward.

The latter still held his blade with both hands, yet his body collapsed like mud to the ground.

This Liu family servant was unable to use any of his martial skills.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong knelt, holding the blade, its tip angled downward against his knee, blood dripping in a steady line.

He bent low, pulling the red silk-edged cloth from the trembling, gaunt man's hands, and silently wiped the blade.

Yan Liu Liu mumbled something with a "huh-huh," his fading eyes still holding a look of disbelief.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong did not lean in to listen.

He bent his head, carefully wiping the trembling, snow-white blade.

In his past life, Magistrate Ouyang Rong had once seen this in a niche online post about obscure trivia.

To strike the heart, one must grip the hilt horizontally, aligning the blade parallel to the ribs.

This makes it easier to slip between the ribs, allowing effortless penetration beneath the xiphoid process into the heart.

Good—this obscure piece of knowledge had finally proven useful.

It was practical enough that even a half-newbie like him could stab the heart without effort.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong suddenly felt it was worth the time he'd wasted scrolling on his phone during class.

The advantage of the red cloth was that it didn't show bloodstains too clearly.

Yet on the pavilion's floor, streams of blood spread like a map.

A still-warm, silk-edged red cloth was tossed onto the cooling face of the gaunt man, his dead-fish eyes staring upward.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong did not pick up the white sandalwood scabbard on the ground; he stood in the pavilion and glanced left and right.

No one was around—only the rustling of bamboo leaves.

A young man turned, blade in hand, and walked silently into the depths of the bamboo grove.

He did not flee.

In the bamboo grove nearby.

A burly man skillfully dug a grave with an iron shovel, one scoop after another.

Beside the pit, a bald young monk lay slumped, two large swollen lumps on the back of his skull, eyes closed as if in unconsciousness.

Suddenly, as if hearing movement, the man in the pit paused and looked up.

"Miss Immortal, why are you here? Where's Sixth Brother?"

"He's going to collect Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan's corpse."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong, walking silently from outside the bamboo grove, replied calmly.

He held his hands behind his back, stepped to the edge of the pit, glanced at the grave suited for a flat lie, and nodded lightly:

"It's deep enough. Let's go find your Sixth Brother. Help him."

"Yes, Miss Immortal."

Liu Qi nodded dully, tossed the shovel up, and flipped himself out of the pit.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong watched Liu Qi, agile and effortless, climb from the pit.

His grip on the white jade hilt tightened slightly.

Behind Magistrate Ouyang Rong, a skirt-blade rose upright, pressed against his cervical spine, slightly lower than the height of his neck.

Liu Qi tidied the items beside the pit, brushed the dust from his hands, and turned to Magistrate Ouyang Rong, who stood with hands behind his back, nodding:

"All set. Let's go, Miss Immortal."

The burly man did not step forward immediately; instead, he gestured for Magistrate Ouyang Rong to lead the way.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong seemed lost in thought, eyes lowered, staring at the nearby pit.

"Miss Immortal?"

The simple-faced Liu Qi still did not move ahead; his expression curious, he repeated the title.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong's face seemed to snap back to awareness; he looked at him, nodded, and prepared to turn.

Suddenly, Magistrate Ouyang Rong's expression changed drastically—he stared wide-eyed at a spot behind Liu Qi:

"Watch out!"

Liu Qi spun around instantly, exposing his back.

Magistrate Ouyang Rong's gaze shifted from shock to cold calm.

His wrist flipped behind him.

A flash of snow-white blade light appeared, slicing diagonally toward Liu Qi's occiput.

But who could have expected this burly man had already been on guard?

He swiftly arched his upper body backward—the blade swept past, three inches above his brow.

The first strike missed.

No head fell as expected; Magistrate Ouyang Rong did not panic.

Using the momentum of the first strike, he spun his body, stepped forward, and slashed out the second blow.

"Such heavy bloodstink—what did you do to Sixth Brother…"

Liu Qi, having dodged the first strike, his face flushed with fury and shock, had not finished speaking when the second blade came at his face.

The burly man, already unsteady from being relentlessly attacked, stepped back in desperation—but behind him was the pit he had dug.

His foot slipped, his body losing balance midair.

But the blade was already there.

Accompanied by a shriek of agony.

Half a palm flew into the air, then crashed onto the soil, fingers still twitching.

Liu Qi's right hand, flailed forward to regain balance, had been severed halfway.

Yet the burly man reacted with astonishing speed—his left hand seized Magistrate Ouyang Rong's right wrist, yanking him violently into his embrace.

Even under normal circumstances, the slender, weak Magistrate Ouyang Rong could not match the burly man's strength, let alone the explosive power unleashed in this moment of life-or-death.

Had the man not been unarmed against a blade, and had he not been caught off-guard by the ambush—

Magistrate Ouyang Rong estimated he wouldn't have lasted three rounds in his hands.

But reality allowed no "what-ifs."

Magistrate Ouyang Rong, blade in hand, and Liu Qi, with his severed palm, tumbled together into the pit.

Hua Xuanji, a roar of pain and fury echoed from within: "You're not the Miss Immortal—you're really…"

Someone said nothing. In the dim pit, only the glint of snow-white blade light answered—the man's words died between gritted teeth.

Inside the narrow, sunken pit.

A silent battle for life and death unfolded.

Only one would crawl out alive.

At this moment, Magistrate Ouyang Rong's mind was utterly empty.

Every movement he made to kill his opponent was driven by a sudden, primal instinct that surfaced in that instant.

Yet for some reason, a phrase his junior sister had once smiled at him during a carriage ride surged fiercely into his mind:

In a narrow path, the brave prevail.