Chapter 70: Li Mochou Cannot Bear to Hear This

Present-day Mongolia is the Great Mongol Empire, and Karakorum is its capital.

If Gu Qing had not killed Kublai, over a decade later, after Möngke’s death, Kublai would have led troops to contest the khanship, plundering and ravaging Mongolia; after capturing Karakorum, he would have renamed it Karakorum Xuanwei Commission.

Karakorum was thus marginalized.

At this moment, Gu Qing proposed that Qiu Chuji burn Karakorum—a task too difficult for Qiu Chuji.

“If you can’t do it, wait until my martial arts reach full mastery—I’ll go myself!”

Gu Qing shouted his slogan: “The Quanzhen Sect repays every grudge!”

Kublai carried out the renaming of Karakorum to Karakorum Xuanwei Commission very well; since Gu Qing replaced Kublai, he must shoulder this responsibility.

“Enough!”

Qiu Chuji’s face flushed red with anger. “The Quanzhen Sect has no such creed!”

Gu Qing’s words stripped the Quanzhen Sect of its Daoist nature, reducing it purely to a martial sect—of the blackguard kind.

Beside him, Hu Du trembled slightly; the psychological trauma Gu Qing inflicted on him still lingered. Hu Du knew well that Gu Qing was utterly vengeful—he had merely slighted Gu Qing once and been driven to a state of neither life nor death.

Yet for Gu Qing to burn Karakorum alone was still unlikely.

Zhao Lei had long heard of Qiu Chuji’s name; today, seeing his vigorous spirit and flowing white beard, he appeared truly immortal. Hearing Gu Qing call Qiu Chuji “Grandmaster,” and knowing Gu Qing had slain thousands of Mongols and already possessed formidable martial arts, Zhao Lei concluded Qiu Chuji must be transcendent. He immediately bowed in deep reverence and ordered his retainers to prepare a banquet to host them all.

“Master Changchun…”

Zhao Lei brought out his treasured wine. “These are five jars of Xing Xiucai wine, stored in our cellar. Originally meant as a gift for the Shaolin elders, but they each observe strict precepts and lack the fortune to taste it. Today, with Master Changchun here, this wine finally has its rightful owner.”

Qiu Chuji, seated in the main seat, was startled upon hearing the name Xing Xiucai wine.

Su Dongpo, the literary leader of the Song era, once recorded the Xing Xiucai wine, saying that this old scholar sold wine so beloved by all, wise or foolish, that one day an official passing by, a friend of Xing Xiucai, received ten jars as a gift. On his way home, the official was ambushed by bandits.

The bandits recognized the Xing Xiucai wine and immediately released the official, urging him never to tell Xing Xiucai what had happened.

Su Dongpo’s literary record made Xing Xiucai wine famous throughout the land. Now, with Su Dongpo long dead, the wine had become a lost masterpiece. For Zhao Lei to produce it now was exceedingly precious.

Wu Santong, upon hearing the wine’s name, insisted his son Wu Dunru support him as he joined the banquet.

“I’ll take two jars.”

Gu Qing reached out directly. “Grandmaster, you know I have two lovely wives.”

Upon encountering this legendary wine, Gu Qing naturally wished to take it home for Xiaolongnu and Cheng Ying to taste.

“Stop!”

Qiu Chuji snapped: “Think of your own grandmasters!”

Faced with such wine, Qiu Chuji too wished to take some back for the Seven Masters of Quanzhen. He divided the five jars: one for Gu Qing, one to take home, and the remaining three to share here.

Gu Qing lifted one jar and set it aside. Just as he was about to take his leave, a feminine cry rang from outside—he instantly paled. The others saw a flash, the lanterns flickered, and when they turned back, Gu Qing was gone.

In Zhao’s courtyard, Li Mochou floated gracefully, sweeping her dust whisk and palm strikes together. In midair, she dueled Cheng Ying, whose figure spun through the air with intricate, exquisite palm techniques—the Peach Blossom Falling Petals Palm, also known in earlier versions as the Falling Petals Divine Sword Palm.

This palm technique relied heavily on feints and few true strikes, creating dazzling, overwhelming confusion.

Since joining Gu Qing, Cheng Ying’s horizons had broadened and her strength surged. Now wielding the Peach Blossom Falling Petals Palm, her feints concealed truth and her truth concealed feints. Even Li Mochou’s supreme martial arts could not subdue her in a short while.

Frustrated by Cheng Ying’s delay, Li Mochou flicked her dust whisk lightly; silver threads reversed and curled, using the weapon’s sharpness to launch a fierce assault, aiming to break Cheng Ying’s defense.

At that exact moment, a palm wind struck—focused and swift—forcing Li Mochou to defend. She flipped backward, landing just as Xiaolongnu appeared beside her.

“Sister.”

Xiaolongnu had just bathed; her hair was damp, her whole body fragrant. She looked at Li Mochou with displeasure. “Why did you try to assassinate Cheng Ying?”

Li Mochou gazed at Xiaolongnu’s luminous skin and gently arched brows, stepped forward, and pulled back her sleeve. Seeing Xiaolongnu’s arm flawless and unblemished, she inwardly confirmed it. Seeing more people gathering nearby, she suppressed her fury and whispered: “Has your body already been given to him?”

That night, Li Mochou had followed Qiu Chuji and the others to Zhao’s residence. Unnoticed, she saw Xiaolongnu and Cheng Ying address each other as sisters, and sensed they intended to share one husband. This enraged her. Knowing Xiaolongnu’s martial prowess, she seized the moment of her bath to assassinate Cheng Ying.

She never expected Cheng Ying’s martial arts had improved so much—in mere exchanges, she failed to subdue her, and even drew Gu Qing and the others here.

Xiaolongnu nodded at the question.

“You’re foolish!”

Li Mochou gripped Xiaolongnu’s hand, stirred by shared outrage, and glared at Gu Qing. “All men are fickle, fond of novelty and weary of the old. This man has already betrayed you by consorting with that filthy girl. How could you—”

Li Mochou’s fury darkened her vision; she was instantly reminded of Lu Zhanyuan’s past betrayals of her.

Men change their hearts too quickly.

Logically, Li Mochou should have rejoiced at her sister’s misfortune—but she could not bear to see a disciple of the Ancient Tomb betrayed.

Normally, when Li Mochou encountered a faithless man, she split him in two. How much more so when Gu Qing dares to insult the Ancient Tomb itself!

Li Mochou was avenging Xiaolongnu.

“He is willing to die for me.”

Xiaolongnu gazed at Gu Qing, softly saying: “I also love Cheng Ying very much. I wish to bring her to the Ancient Tomb to keep me company.”

What kind of love is this?

Li Mochou did not understand, but was deeply shaken. She never imagined Xiaolongnu, raised in the solitude of the Ancient Tomb, could hold such thoughts. She shouted angrily: “You’re deluded! A person’s love is finite. If he gives more to you, the girl gets less. Over time, how can you avoid conflict?”

In Li Mochou’s view, Gu Qing was no suitable match—but he had already deceived Xiaolongnu into giving him her body, and this drove her nearly mad.

“What if Gu Qing’s love is too much for me to hold?”

Xiaolongnu, in an instant, radiated beauty, whispering softly.

How could love be too much to hold?

Li Mochou was about to speak when she noticed her little sister’s innocent, pure face flushed with a delicate, dewy blush—something deeply wrong. Then her own face burned red with fury.

I’m a maiden untouched! Why are you telling me this?

(End of Chapter)