Chapter 488

A cold sword rain, five extinguished lives.

The corpses of the last five high-level members of the Taiping Canal fell into the lake water; Seeing Pei Ye slowly sheathed his sword and turned his head to look at that distant, majestic voice on the south bank.

Across the lake water and the rain curtain, there was an almost dead silence over there.

A distant black cloak, third-grade martial merit—that was the temperament of someone long in a high position, and some heavy, violent anger was about to be triggered.

Seeing Pei Ye watched him quietly, yet did not even grip his sword, as if certain he would not dare to strike.

The Taiping Taiping Cao Bang was already finished; you don't know what we will find out from it, how dare you impulsively involve yourself?

The resources spent and relationships involved to be operated into a third-grade high position by climbing the Yan Prince's branch were not meant to be folded here. Therefore, at this time, he could only play the role of an impartial Jin Wu general; he would rather watch his close comrades and old friends be killed than expose even a bit of his relationship with that 【Law-Guard Order】.

Seeing Pei Ye withdrew his gaze, his light, cold voice resounding through the West Pool: "The Three Offices are investigating the Carp Pavilion case; no need to trouble the Jin Wu."

Afterward, he swept across the lake, and he was already straight through the West Pool. Yan Feiqing walked side by side with him.

They had come from the east bank of the West Pool, killed all the Taiping Canal members at the Flying Mirror Tower, and were heading to the west bank of the West Pool.

And there, it was precisely the Taiping Wharf.

No longer needing a team of city guards, the search warrant had been signed, and Xie Chuantang led a team of constables to break in here.

Those who dared to block were not a match for the woman's few moves, and more importantly, until this moment, the many gang members within the wharf had not yet reacted.

Those who could send word from the West Hall had already been wiped out, and when the people of the Flying Mirror Tower were floating corpses on the lake, the two killing stars had already crashed into this small island.

There was absolutely no time to destroy the evidence.

The so-called "entering an unpeopled realm," this wharf was turned over entirely, and finally, underground in the area where canal workers were not allowed to go, they discovered a huge prison.

It was indeed "fifteen zhang north-south, nineteen zhang east-west, eighty prison cells, three hundred prisoners," and the people huddled in the corners inside were all good, ordinary citizens.

This was of course the most unquestionable ironclad evidence; with both human and material evidence placed before the entire Divine Capital, the lights of the Taiping Wharf would not go out tonight. Tomorrow morning, Di Jiu, who had just woken up, would personally come here, and everything would be thoroughly and completely verified.

Seeing Pei Ye stood at the entrance of the prison; people with panicked expressions were being led out of the dungeon one by one, each of them having more or less traces of violence on their bodies. One could imagine how, under beatings, the land deeds were pressed with fingerprints. Xie Chuantang looked at his soaked clothes and wounded body, frowned, and whispered: "You go back and get treated first."

Seeing Pei Ye shook his head: "Wait."

He looked at the faces of the people coming out, until a couple with matching appearances walked out with numb expressions; Seeing Pei Ye reached out and raised his hand, his expression relaxing: "Two elders, stop, may I ask if you are Cheng Xiaozhu's parents?"

The couple looked up in a daze, and the next instant their expressions changed violently; joy, fear, and other emotions surged up at the same time—but only for a moment, as the pale young hero before them continued: "Entrusted by him to let you know, Cheng Xiaozhu has already been rescued and is at the Jingzhao Office; after you two rest for a while, you can meet."

On the south bank, the rain gradually stopped, and the lamp shadows gradually dispersed.

Any poetry gathering that had been interrupted was of course not held again, but everyone on the Green Flower Terrace felt that the night had not been in vain.

For the students who discussed right and wrong in the Imperial Academy and watched the sword for the first time at a poetry gathering, such a true Jianghu was truly too impressive; the Carp Pavilion case, which had already been settled, was overturned just like that by two swords, and the entire Taiping Taiping Cao Bang was wiped out overnight... one could imagine that for many days to come, this would be an endless topic of conversation.

Only Zheng Zhiyi's expression was stiff.

But not many people paid attention to this young master's emotions. Tinghua stared fixedly at the lake surface where the people had already disappeared, suddenly grabbed the wrist of Fu Zhiyun beside her, and turned a pair of crystal-bright eyes: "If we can't invite classmate Pei to the next Poetry Sword Gathering, I will die."

"..."

On the Maple Shadow Terrace, Cui Zhaoye watched the now-empty lake surface quietly, feeling as if her soul had entirely awakened.

For how many years since she was a child had she been fascinated by the sword? Yet those supreme sword sects all pointed vaguely in a direction she did not like.

"Ruthless," "Heaven," "No Leak," "Empty"... the higher the sword, the easier it was for such words to appear. Cui Zhaoye admired the talent of those past sword practitioners and was truly clear-minded about sword practitioners like Yan Feiqing, but as she said: "I still feel that the 'sword' should be something that belongs to 'people'."

It was a pity that in thirty years of searching for sword practitioners, Cui Zhaoye had not expected that at such a young age, she would meet that sword practitioner who could stand on the same line as these people while stepping on another path.

Until she saw this sword strike of falling rain.

"... Do you know? He must have learned this sword technique for no more than ten days," Cui Zhaoye said softly.

Changsun turned her head; this close friend was lying on the railing, supporting her chin, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

"Can you tell that too?" she asked in surprise.

"Of course, this kind of sword—if you know it, you know it; if you don't, you don't," Cui Zhaoye rarely spoke so much. "For example, Yan Feiqing couldn't use this kind of sword."

"... Yan Feiqing could learn it too, right?" Changsun, who had also watched the sword for a few days, had her own understanding.

"Even if he learned it, it wouldn't be as good-looking as Seeing Pei Ye's."

"..." Changsun was silent for a moment, then also somewhat curious, "Then is Seeing Pei Ye really a very, very powerful sword practitioner?"

"Yes," Cui Zhaoye said, supporting her face with both hands. "Look, just now his figure was lonely and drifting, holding the sword casually, the most basic 'horizontal sword frame' was off by three cun... but precisely because of those missing three cun, that divine intent became clearly perceptible."

"... Is it good even if it's wrong?"

"Of course! The intent is condensed, the form is just dispersed; that is precisely the state of dissolving into the rain intent," Cui Zhaoye said softly. "Also, look, he used that attack sword style of staggering first and then erupting twice, but the footwork and sword momentum mobilization were completely different, yet each one was so stunningly perfect. Do you know? Every move of his is 'forgetting the trap after catching the fish,' only then could he use it in those many extremely harsh situations."

"Hmm," Changsun recalled seriously.

"I'm not criticizing other sword practitioners, but if you put those mediocre people who demand moves in the same situation, they would have long since stretched their necks to be slaughtered!" Cui Zhaoye supported her chin and said slowly, "Also, just now after he sheathed his sword, he looked toward us; his black hair was soaked through, his posture was lonely and weak, his face was so pale and cold, yet his eyes were looking at Yang Juhu with a slight droop..."

Changsun thought of that scene, suddenly frowned slightly, and tapped her chin curiously: "At this time, hadn't he already sheathed his sword? Was there some deep meaning in his expression?"

Cui Zhaoye was still supporting her chin: "I mean, he is so handsome."