Chapter 275

In the original plot, when Xiang Wentian rescued Ren Woxing from prison, the first person he killed was this Incense Chief Xue.

Moreover, Ren Woxing even tore out his heart, showing how deeply he hated him.

Xue Ju now had Xiang Wentian in his grasp, overjoyed, he ordered his subordinates to keep a close watch on Xiang Wentian and set out early tomorrow to send him to Heimu Cliff.

One subordinate said, 'Incense Chief Xue, you have rendered great service this time; I wonder what reward the Sect Leader will bestow.'

Xue Ju laughed, 'This merit, I will never forget you all; setting out early tomorrow, we cannot avoid the fatigue of travel, so go rest now.'

He knew clearly that there would be no reward; as long as he could preserve his life and current authority in this sect's upheaval of replacing the old with the new, that would be enough.

After all, he had once been a confidant of Ren Woxing, and even Dongfang Bubai did not trust him; even if he had helped Dongfang Bubai ascend, he was merely sent out to serve as an Incense Chief.

If rewards were truly given according to merit, he would deserve at least an elder position, let alone the title of Envoy of Light.

Xue Ju thought so, but dared not speak it aloud; he merely chuckled with his subordinates and then went to the rear hall.

Xue Ju walked to the bedroom; the room was pitch black, and he immediately laughed, 'My dear, I've come!'

He had sent away all of Xiang Wentian's family, but the concubine was not among them.

Here lived his ninth concubine, but Xue Ju, being far-sighted and meticulous, knowing Xiang Wentian was crafty, feared that if he saw firelight and heard a woman's voice, the fish might slip the hook and escape; thus he had sealed the concubine's acupoints early, waiting to vent his anger after capturing Xiang Wentian.

Indeed, the moment had arrived; as the saying goes, one encounters joy and feels refreshed. Xue Ju pushed the door open, had just lit the lamp, and suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder.

Xue Ju was immediately startled.

He was an Incense Chief of the Demonic Cult, his martial arts not inferior to the cult's elders; otherwise he would not have befriended Xiang Wentian, and Ren Woxing would not have come to kill him upon his release from prison.

This startle was no small matter; given his martial prowess, to be approached without noticing indicates the comer's skill is obviously extraordinary.

Xue Ju's reaction was also extremely quick; upon feeling a tap on his shoulder, he instantly grabbed back with his reverse hand while turning around. To his surprise, his grasp met nothing, and there was no one behind him.

Xue Ju's heart turned cold: 'Could it be a ghost or monster?'

Turning his head again, he saw a person seated calmly before the sandalwood table where he had just lit the lamp; the person had a clear, handsome visage, a strand of white hair hanging from the forehead, and was gazing at the candle on the table.

Seeing that this person had arrived soundlessly, Xue Ju thought, 'He entered the room and tapped my shoulder without a whisper of wind, and by the time I turned, he was already behind me; to take my life would be as easy as flipping a hand.'

But Xue Ju, having weathered countless storms, was shocked inside yet remained composed outwardly; a sudden inspiration struck him, and he said, 'Your white hair signifies you must be the great hero Feng Yi, known as the Palm-Sword Deadly Strike.'

One need only know that Feng Yi's appearance has been seen by thousands in Hengshan City, and after months of rumor, the martial world already has talk of him.

As an Incense Chief of the Sun-Moon Sect, Xue Ju had heard of his looks, and given the opponent's almost divine skill, it was not hard to connect the dots.

Feng Yi's gaze shifted, like two cold stars shooting onto Xue Ju's face, and he said indifferently, 'You act in a base manner, yet you have some discernment.'

Xue Ju's heart shook violently: 'Indeed it is him! The rumors in the martial world are true; Feng Yi truly possesses extraordinary skill, no wonder he bears the Palm-Sword Deadly Strike title.' He then said slowly, 'I have no grudge against you, sir; why have you come?'

'No grudge?' Feng Yi chuckled, 'Since you call me a rat, if I don't do something rat-like, wouldn't that be wasting your insult?'

Xue Ju was certain; his dealings with Xiang Wentian had been witnessed by all, and feeling his limbs turn cold, he said, 'Those who speak such words in the martial world number not ten thousand but eight thousand; I am merely repeating hearsay.'

Feng Yi smiled faintly, 'Do you think I don't know you're just repeating hearsay? But there's nothing to be done—who made your luck so bad?'

Feng Yi is just that pragmatic; even if he knows others are right to curse him, he won't accept it for nothing.

Therefore he had to come seeking an explanation.

As for what he hasn't seen with his own eyes, he naturally wouldn't care; thus the reason for Xue Ju's bad luck lies here.

Xue Ju's heart turned icy, he drew his long sword with a clang and shouted sharply, 'Come…'

Feng Yi raised his hand, a strong wind surged forward, pressing on Xue Ju's chest like a huge stone, and he couldn't even utter the word.

Xue Ju hastily swung his sword to thrust; Feng Yi smiled slightly, turned his palms inward, and clamped the long sword.

With a hum, Xue Ju felt a cold current travel up the sword hilt, along his arm to his chest, and he could no longer hold the sword.

Feng Yi's yin-cold energy is extremely lethal; an ordinary person need not even make contact—once his chilling qi enters the body, death is instantaneous.

Even a person of profound skill, if struck, will be frozen stiff and lose the ability to resist.

The Golden Bell Shield and Iron Cloth Robe that Xue Ju cultivated are ultimately external martial arts; the yin poison hidden in Feng Yi's internal energy is precisely their bane.

Thus, with just this move, Xue Ju felt his veins constrict, cold burst forth, his five viscera and six bowels seemed to congeal, his head swam and vision blurred, he nearly collapsed, and trembling he said, 'You want to save… Xiang Wentian, I am willing to release him…'

Suddenly hearing Feng Yi's long laugh as he rose, 'What Golden Bell Shield, Iron Cloth Robe—turns out they're nothing much.'

With a casual turn of his long sword, a hiss sounded, Xue Ju's head was severed, his body thumped to the ground; yet not a drop of blood flowed out, for his blood had already congealed.

Feng Yi's gaze shifted to the quivering blanket, he smiled and said, 'Remember, the killer is also Feng Yi!'

A slight breeze stirred, the candle flame went out, and Feng Yi had already vanished within the room.

After a moment, a shrill cry rang out: 'Someone's been killed!'

It turned out that Xue Ju's concubine had been watching this scene; in her shock she actually broke through the acupoint seal Xue Ju had placed on her.

After all, Xue Ju's purpose in sealing his woman was merely to prevent her from making a sound; it was not meant to deal with a master like Xiang Wentian, so he used heavy-handed methods.

Feng Yi had known this all along, but he wanted others to know he had committed the killing, so he did not silence the witness.

The shrill cry shattered the darkness of night.

Someone shouted, 'Assassin! Assassin!'

Naturally, those shouting were members of the Sun-Moon Divine Sect,

they had captured Xiang Wentian and were dutifully guarding every point requiring defense, never expecting their own Incense Chief to die just like that.

This person's skill far exceeded their imagination, so their cries were filled with unease and terror.

Immediately afterward, countless torches blazed to life in every corner of the branch hall, and in an instant the entire branch hall was lit as bright as day.

The torches illuminated more than ten black shadows leaping across the rooftops, their weapons flashing with cold light as they patrolled everywhere.

No one knows who shouted, 'Feng Yi, you rat, dare to kill but not show yourself?'

This person, full of vigor, projected his voice far away; it turned out he had learned from the concubine that the killer was Feng Yi.

He also knew the opponent's skill was extraordinary, yet he believed even more that hundreds of sect members could certainly kill him.

Suddenly a mournful, wailing flute note drifted down from the high sky.

Soft and slow, yet it poured into the ears like a tide, leaving no chance to resist.

The flute's sound appeared and disappeared unpredictably, its pitch rising higher and higher. Everyone felt only vexation in their hearts, their qi and blood seemed pulled by the flute, their whole bodies felt as if scorched in an oven, blood surging, their five viscera and six bowels as if being fried in an oil pan.

Suddenly someone shouted: 'Don't listen, don't listen!'

They couldn't tell where the flute sound came from and wanted to plug their ears, but it was already too late.

The flute sound suddenly became shrill, like a hot knife digging in everyone's hearts, extremely painful.

A group of people had already gone mad, shouting wildly and jumping about.

Some people with considerable inner strength hurriedly sat cross-legged on the ground, shaking their minds, frantically circulating their energy to suppress their blood and qi.

They felt the flute sound becoming finer and finer, almost inaudible.

They all turned around, seeing no one, focusing their attention to locate the sound so they could counterattack and deny him a chance to play the flute.

But how could they know this was the fearsome aspect of the 'Azure Sea Tide Rising Melody': the softer the flute sound, the greater its allure.

In an instant, several people felt the flute sound contain waves of chill, as if they were naked and wrapped in icy cold, shuddering uncontrollably.

The dongxiao, normally gentle and graceful, now had a tone extremely stern and murderous, the cold air piercing to the bone.

Some people wanted to shout or strike their weapons together to disrupt the flute sound, but found they could not make a sound when they opened their mouths, and could not move a finger when they tried to act.

The appearance of the crowd, Feng Yi sitting cross-legged on the treetop, was fully seen by them.

But he had only intended to kill Xue Ju and be done with it; who knew he would also curse himself as a rat.

Then this time he would blow this crowd to death.

But suddenly cries of pain came from several li away.

Feng Yi understood in his heart that he had exerted his full strength, the flute sound infused with inner power, its reach far more than just a few li.

The Sun and Moon Sect followers are martial artists; being close, they certainly felt pain, but even ordinary people hearing a trace could not endure it.

If he kept blowing, he could take the lives of hundreds of the Sun and Moon Divine Sect, but the ordinary folk around would likely not die but go mad.

Feng Yi thought: 'Just now, under extreme heat and cold, these people will probably fall seriously ill.' He therefore hastily ended the piece.

When the music ended and the sound faded, everyone stopped trembling, the whole town fell into dead silence, so quiet it made one's heart palpitate.

Suddenly someone shouted loudly,

stunned, unable to believe what lay before their eyes,

only to see many followers of the sect already lifeless, some with flushed complexions, bodies scorching hot, others with pallid faces, frozen into ice.

This flute melody was not only the demonic power that shocked souls, but also possessed the divine might to turn people into charcoal and ice.

Is this still human?

After this battle, the surviving Sun and Moon Sect followers came to understand that Feng Yi did not regard Dongfang Bubai as worthy of attention.

For one such as him, a divine person, who else would need to be held in esteem?

'Let's go!'

At this time the moon was west, the morning star sinking, Feng Yi seemed to ride the long wind eastward, his clothes and hair flying, most unrestrained.

Regarding Xiang Wentian's predicament, he had no interest whatsoever in intervening.

He knew Xiang Wentian's martial arts were peerless; in the original story, upon meeting Linghu Chong he wore shackles, being hunted, clearly not long escaped, so he himself was not needed, as they had their own means of escape—why should he meddle?

Feng Yi, to accomplish something, must do what no one else but himself can—such as saving Liu Zhengfeng's family and Qu Yang's grandparents and grandchildren.

He does not care how others view it, whether the Liu family or the demonic sect members deserve death.

As long as he can do what others cannot, that is his sense of achievement; in this way, he does not waste his transmigration.

Seven days later, Feng Yi entered Gold Hill City again.

He had originally wanted to go to South of the River, but happened to pass by; for someone like him, coming to Gold Hill City without enjoying the charm of the Qin Huai River would be living in vain.

In his previous life, wind and rain were absent, yet there remained a hint of charm; alas, his purse was shallow, he could not afford to pose as a grand gentleman, and could only become a regret.

Now Feng Yi, however, gets the wind when he wants wind and the rain when he wants rain.

Money had become the easiest thing to obtain.

At that moment, the sunset fell, the Qin Huai River already bustling; the girls, all dressed up and lovely, awaited the patrons' favors. Feng Yi hired a small boat, stood at the prow, and toured the scenery. He heard the sounds of merriment and laughter without cease; the women in the waterside pavilions all waved and laughed at him.

Feng Yi also returned their smiles with one of his own,

Feng Yi was handsome and well-dressed, clearly a wealthy man; upon seeing his smile, the young ladies' hearts fluttered, they called out more happily, waving red scarves and green sleeves, coaxing him to come aboard.

Feng Yi saw that their smiles were all tinged with falseness.

Yet his mood was excellent.

Because he felt that such falseness was, in a way, also a kind of simplicity.

I only need you to pay silver, and I will give you the service you want; nothing else need be involved.

Feng Yi suddenly understood somewhat those learned, famous scholars, and why they also liked this way.

Feng Yi examined these women, thinking of going tonight to the brothel to listen to music, and meanwhile enjoy a massage to relax, also a pleasure in life; but it was really hard to choose, and to take them all would be wasteful.

Feng Yi was sizing up the women when a plaintive, desolate piano melody drifted from the riverbank; Feng Yi frowned slightly.

Having heard this kind of melody once, one would not forget it.

Although Feng Yi was annoyed at being disturbed in his pleasure, he had no choice but to go ashore, and the melody faded.

Not a single mistake, not a single error, not a single omission, not a single flaw, not a single oversight—look!

After walking only a hundred or so steps, Feng Yi heard in the distance someone say: 'This must be Feng Yi's doing!'

He followed the sound and saw a crowd gathered ahead, instantly piquing his interest.

Regarding the frame-up of him for murder, Feng Yi cared not at all, and was actually looking forward to it.

After all, to make people think he did the killing, the perpetrator must be no ordinary hand!

Feng Yi immediately went over, squeezed into the crowd, and saw two people lying by the road, dressed in Azure City Sect attire, already dead, yet wearing a strange smile.

More than ten onlookers, men and women, old and young.

Feng Yi saw no wounds on the corpses and said: 'Why say it was Feng Yi who killed them?'

An old man glanced at him, his pupils suddenly constricting, obviously startled.

After being startled, he said, "Sir, have you seen Yu Canghai kill someone?"

Feng Yi shook his head.

The old man said: "No wonder then."

He immediately puffed out his chest, glanced at the other onlookers, and said: "Everyone should know that Yu Canghai is one of the few top masters of the orthodox martial world today; his Heart-Destroying Palm has reached perfection, capable of killing invisibly."

"Look, although this person is dead, his face bears a strange smile."

"Actually this smile is not genuine; it is the result of the Heart-Destroying Palm striking, which ruptures the heart and lungs, and the victim, in extreme pain, experiences facial muscle spasms, forming this weird grin."

Someone exclaimed in astonishment: "Really the Heart-Destroying Palm?"

The old man said: "If you don't believe me, dig it up and look at his heart!"

With a clang, a man drew his knife and slit open the chest of a corpse.

In an instant, the five viscera and six bowels shattered into fragments and burst out.

This bloody scene made everyone exclaim in shock and stumble back.

Feng Yi also feared getting blood on him, stepped back two paces, yet secretly wondered: although he knew the Heart-Destroying Palm, he had never killed anyone with it, so he truly did not know the symptoms of dying from it.

Thinking this, he couldn't help but admire that the martial world truly hides dragons and tigers; an unknown old man is far more knowledgeable than he.

Someone said: "But Yu Canghai is already dead!"

A sword-bearing woman said: "It turns out to be Qingcheng Sect brothers killing each other; he died at the hands of his own."

The old man stroked his beard and smiled: "In the entire martial world, only the Heart-Destroying Palm can make a corpse show such an expression; yet aside from Yu Canghai, the Qingcheng Sect has no second person capable of it!"

The woman said: "Then why do you say Feng Yi killed someone?"

The old man suddenly turned solemn: "Because that day at the Hall of Gathered Jade, Feng Yi once used the Heart-Destroying Palm to match blows with Yu Canghai."

Yu Canghai himself admitted it, and Feng Yi did not deny it, proving it true!

Everyone suddenly understood.

"This is not enough to have killed Yu Canghai; they also want to exterminate his disciples!"

"It seems Feng Yi really stole the Ward-off Evil Sword Manual."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Yes, if he can steal the Heart-Destroying Palm, he can steal the Ward-off Evil Sword Manual too. Too bad his martial arts are too high."

"It is said that in Jiangsu-Zhejiang, with just one Deadly Melody, he killed many people; innocent civilians died by the hundreds!"

"What? Hundreds? The whole town turned into a ghost city!"

"Everyone died!"

"This guy is truly a demonic fiend!"

"Not a demonic fiend, but could he have a close relationship with that Miss Ren?"

Feng Yi found the talk boring; his contest with Ren Yingying was a proper martial arts duel, having nothing to do with chickens and feathers.

"They never taught him the qin, nor had the martial world fawned over him; these ignorant people see wind as rain, making a fuss over nothing."

"As for the claim that hundreds or thousands of civilians died, that's pure nonsense, obviously baseless rumors from the martial world that tarnish his reputation."

"Good thing his reputation is already terrible, so it doesn't matter!"

Just then, he saw a green flash ahead; Feng Yi, graceful and at ease, followed it like flowing clouds and water.

After walking a li, he saw the green figure enter a tall three-story wooden building, and he followed, ascending leisurely.

The teahouse was originally noisy with clinking cups, but as soon as Feng Yi appeared at the entrance, it suddenly fell silent, as if even breathing was hushed.

Feng Yi glanced around; these people immediately turned their gazes, as if everything just now had been unintentional.

Feng Yi smiled faintly and walked toward a seat by the window.

On this table lay a ragged old man; beside the stool leg rested a huqin, its body deep yellow, aged through years.

Feng Yi didn't know why the old man had lured him here or what he was selling; he went over, casually ordered a few side dishes, requested a jug of wine, poured himself a bowl, and began to drink.

He is just that bold.

Because he feels his biggest change is that he increasingly feels less afraid of death than before.

Thus he is so arrogant.

He has the sort of carefree abandon of someone who would rather die standing than live ten thousand years.

Suddenly the man at the table said: "Whether a girl of twelve or thirteen, or a woman of the dust, he accepts all, completely disregarding those who did things for him, turning himself into a martial world laughingstock; truly he relies on his high martial prowess to run amok unchecked."

Feng Yi laughed: "Sir, don't spout nonsense; I engage with any woman on equal terms, each taking what they need. Your words make it sound like I start and abandon, a heartless cad."

The man, without raising his head, added: "Alas, the more romantic, the more sinful; these martial world affairs, I truly can't bear to watch."

Feng Yi smiled: "Martial world matters need you old man to observe more; those two struck by the Heart-Destroying Palm, do you have any leads?"

The nearby tables and chairs rattled as the man finally lifted his head.

He looked disreputable, eyes glazed, drunkenness evident—indeed he was the Hengshan Sect Leader "Xiao Xiang Night Rain" Mo Da.

Mo Da gave Feng Yi a warm smile and said: "I actually do have some clues about that."

Feng Yi's voice turned cold: "Who is it?"

Mo Da sighed: "Alas, you don't know how rumors fly in the martial world, how many mouths can melt gold?"

Feng Yi laughed: "It doesn't matter!"

Mo Da sneered: "If it doesn't matter, why bother asking me?"

Feng Yi chuckled: "Although it doesn't matter, I still want to know, just as others curse me, even if they're right. If I don't hear it, the breeze passes by my ears; if I do hear it, I'll settle the right and wrong with my fists."

Mo Da: "Is it really that simple?"

Feng Yi: "Or must it be more complicated?"

Mo Da burst into laughter: "Gratitude and grudges settled in the palm—Hero Feng truly is a man of honor!"

He raised his thumb, slammed his right hand heavily on the table, and said: "Come, come, come, I, Mo Da, toast you with a bowl." Saying that, he lifted the wine jug and poured wine for Feng Yi.

Feng Yi said: "Mr. Mo..."

Mo Da's face sank as he said: "You call me brother to my martial younger brother and address me as Mr. —are you looking down on me?"

Feng Yi laughed heartily: "Older Brother Mo!"

Mo Da laughed and said: "Come, Feng Younger Brother, you have righteously aided my martial younger brother Liu Zhengfeng's deeds; I am both grateful and admiring toward you."

Although Mo Da is nobody of note, heh, but to have Mo Da willing to raise a cup of wine to him is something unparalleled in the martial world!

As he spoke these words, his gaze sharpened like a blade, and a domineering, fierce aura arose spontaneously.

But this expression flashed and then hid, and he became again a down-and-out man long troubled by the dust of the world.

Feng Yi knew that assisting Liu Zhengfeng's withdrawal from the martial world was his intention; although he declared his stance, he also did not wish to reveal his whereabouts, which is indeed interesting.

Then he said: "You flatter me. There are hardly anyone in the world who can accompany Feng Yi for a drink."

The two laughed facing each other, raised their bowls, and drained them in one go.

But then they heard a clear female voice from downstairs say: "Send away everyone in the building; we've taken over the place, and the reward won't be short for you!"

Feng Yi poked his head out the window and saw two burly men setting down a small blue-cloth sedan; beside the sedan were four maidservants in green clothing, and it was indeed one of those maidservants who had spoken.

Feng Yi's heart stirred; such grandeur—who has arrived?

They even took over the whole building?

He was not even as clear as others about the lethal method of the Crushing Heart Palm; feeling his martial world experience lacking, he was about to ask Mo Da.

Who would have thought that Mo Da would again collapse onto the table, muttering incoherently. (End of chapter)