Chapter 38

In the darkness, a sudden burst of crystal light exploded atop the Sparrow Pavilion, followed by a low thunderclap. Though the sound was not loud, in the silent night it stood out remarkably; when such a commotion arose, even the distant palace stirred, yet the entire General's Manor remained utterly silent—because every person inside, including the patrolling soldiers, lay on the ground, eyes half-closed, as if trapped in a nightmare.

Compared to the tremendous commotion, Zhou Shuo stood in the hall, watching the distant Ji Wuye whose hair and beard stood on end yet whose body suffered little harm, and his surroundings unchanged—even the wooden floor un cracked—he gave a wry glance at his own thunder‑charged hand, realizing he had miscalculated something; the Taiyin Divine Thunder that could shatter a rock in the Yang God World did Ji Wuye no harm at all, aside from his own Horizontal Training, the world's influence also played a part—this is probably what they call the 'rules'.

"It's fine!" Ji Wuye felt the blinding electric light filling his vision, slightly opened his eyes, sensed the numb, stinging pain in his body, half‑believing, half‑doubting; just now he truly felt a sense of hopelessness, yet he never expected the opponent to have a grand show but light rain.

"Then..." Ji Wuye felt the numb, stinging pain in his body, looked at the wryly smiling Zhou Shuo, curled his lips into a feral grin, reached for the battle‑blade he had set aside; as a veteran general who had played with power for years and indulged in drink and women, he had always stayed alert—even with profound Horizontal Training he never removed his armor or let his blade leave his side by more than a zhang.

He snatched up his beloved battle‑blade, and Ji Wuye's mind instantly filled with thoughts—if he survived tonight he had much to do; first and foremost, he must capture the hateful traitors Mo Ya and Bai Feng and have them sliced to death, then mobilize the troops, for now only the great army could be his reliance, and that band of madmen fears only the army.

"Bang!" Before Ji Wuye's thoughts finished, he felt a sudden pain in his knee, his body involuntarily threw backward, then his throat tightened as someone grabbed his neck from behind, his whole body flung up like a sandbag and slammed to the floor, cracking the boards.

"Mo Ya, Bai Feng, how dare you betray me!" Ji Wuye, ignoring his body about to fall apart, leapt up, swung his blade to push away the black‑and‑white assassins who had just jointly ambushed him—he kicked the leg of Bai Feng, who had grabbed his neck, and threw the one who had seized his throat, Mo Ya, to the ground; their cooperation was superb.

"General, we have no choice," Mo Ya said, looking at Ji Wuye, unharmed and at the peak of his Horizontal Training, with a hint of resentment he glanced at Zhou Shuo; he and Bai Feng had just fled the Sparrow Pavilion and seen inside the General's Manor the people whose souls were sealed, lying in disarray asleep, from which he could tell Zhou Shuo was not of the Net, but the problem is that he and Bai Feng have already betrayed Ji Wuye—if they don't clean up this affair today, they won't live to see tomorrow.

"You've also thrown in your lot with the Net!" Ji Wuye glared at the black‑and‑white assassins, gritting his teeth.

"Not bad, General. The times are changing; if we kill you we'll get what we want." Mo Ya swept a glance at the unmoving Zhou Shuo, then gave the youth Bai Feng a meaningful look.

"Then what are we waiting for? Attack!" Zhou Shuo saw Mo Ya's half‑hearted guard against him and smiled; he could read the assassins' thoughts, and this posed only benefit, no harm to him—so long as Ji Wuye died.

Zhou Shuo spoke while launching a thought that snatched a bronze sword from an assistant general outside the Sparrow Pavilion, then grasped it; his cultivation had long allowed him to move objects, and though his spiritual form possessed only half the strength of a flesh body, its immaterial nature made him immune to ordinary physical harm.

The bronze sword in hand, Zhou Shuo's thought moved and his spirit appeared before Ji Wuye, gripping the blade with both hands to strike his right eye; Ji Wuye wore iron armor, and beneath it lay a Horizontal Training body impervious to blades and spears—he too had trained in Horizontal Training, and to break it one must strike the vital gates, the joints, or the seven apertures of the body.

"Clang!" Ji Wuye blocked the advancing sword tip with his long blade; on contact sparks flew, Zhou Shuo's bodily strength was not low, and though his spirit was only half, it was still extraordinary.

"No, you're not of the Net," Ji Wuye said, parrying the bronze sword, eyeing the bronze longsword, a thought flashing through his mind—but before he could finish it, pain shot through his abdomen, he stumbled back, and Bai Feng seized the moment to kick him in the belly.

"Well done," Zhou Shuo exclaimed at the extraordinarily agile youth, then instantly drifted above Ji Wuye and thrust his longsword down at his right eye.

Ji Wuye was no mere novice; as he fell through mid‑air he swept his battle‑blade sideways at Zhou Shuo's waist, but when the blade sliced through Zhou's torso like cutting water, he felt his own eyes instantly flooded with blood, let out a anguished cry as he hit the ground, and before the cry could finish, a chill ran through his throat.

"What a pity," Zhou Shuo said, watching Mo Ya drive a sleeve‑sword into Ji Wuye's throat, then he discarded his longsword to the ground.

"What pity?" the white‑clad youth stepped forward, watching Mo Ya pull a sleeve‑sword from his former superior's throat, eyeing Zhou Shuo's waist with doubtful eyes, unsure whether he'd seen correctly—Ji Wuye's blade had swept past this person's waist, yet the person suffered nothing.

"He too was once a valiant general, his martial prowess not insignificant, yet his obsession with power dulled his blade—his blade ought to have been able to wound me." Zhou Shuo lifted his gaze, a hint of regret; Ji Wuye's strike had given his spirit a faint prick, the residual killing intent and resentment on the blade, but that aura had long been worn away by power and drink.

Fortunately Ji Wuye's will had long since collapsed, otherwise tonight he wouldn't merely fail his goal—he might have suffered grave injury—and Zhou Shuo suddenly realized he would lament a person's downfall rather than first rejoice at escaping death's grasp.

"Also because his blade is dull, otherwise tonight we'd be the ones dead—his Horizontal Training is exceedingly strong." Mo Ya wiped the blood from his sleeve‑sword, retracted it into the spring mechanism on his arm, and gazed thoughtfully at the inhuman Zhou Shuo, launching straight into an explanation without waiting for a reply.

"Well then, let's talk about us."

"What's there to say? You can see I'm not with the Net—I've gained freedom, so just fly off!" Zhou Shuo regarded the black‑and‑white assassins, hands clasped behind his back.

"You're not going to deal with us!" Mo Ya glanced at his companion, somewhat surprised.

"Why would I deal with you? My target is Ji Wuye, and I've already achieved it." Zhou Shuo looked at the surprised Mo Ya and the bewildered youth Bai Feng, feeling they were making a fuss—after all, he wasn't an assassin; no one kills just to toss away work.

"But where are you headed now that you have no master? Which sky will you fly to for freedom—will you defect to the Net? Tell me what you know about the Net." Zhou Shuo glanced at the youth Bai Feng, suddenly finding it amusing; the plot he'd altered—would this fellow next venture into the Flowing Sands?

As for the questions on one side, Mo Ya blinked his eyes, a little unsure how to answer; I felt we weren't very acquainted, not just him—over there Bai Feng was similar, but his eyes held even more bewilderment. Ji Wuye is dead, freedom has been won, yet where should they go?

"If you have nowhere to go, then let me recommend a place: go to the Purple Orchid Pavilion; it's not bad. The master of Flowing Sand will be the next leader of Han—he looks cold, but he's actually quite warm-hearted. However! Han won't last much longer, so I hope you have a fallback." Zhou Shuo looked at the two who were dazed by the question, and involuntarily shrugged his shoulders. In truth he was a bit inclined to recruit these two, but after thinking it over he decided against it—this kind of assassin, he himself didn't yet have the means to recruit.

"Recommend we go…" Mo Ya raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Flowing Sand?" Bai Feng uttered the term on his youthful face, wondering what sort of place it would be.

"Alright, that's all I have to say. I'm leaving now—you should go too!" Zhou Shuo waved his hand, then turned into a gust of yin wind and flew off. Bai Feng stared wide-eyed, while Mo Ya trembled slightly.

"What kind of martial art is this?!" Bai Feng watched Zhou Shuo dissipate into wind out of thin air, turned to look at his companion, half-believing, half-doubting, wondering if what he saw was real.

"I don't know whether that counts as martial arts; I've heard that both the Baiyue and the northern wolf tribes have people versed in witchcraft and esoteric techniques." Mo Ya watched Zhou Shuo say he was leaving and then just go, as well as his bewildered friend; while giving a wry smile and shaking his head, he fell into some thought. The freedom he had always yearned for—he had indeed attained it, yet after gaining it he seemed to feel a bit lost again. But had he ever truly longed for freedom? Bai Feng genuinely did.

"Then what should we do now? When will those people outside wake up?" Bai Feng looked at his companion who was wryly smiling and shaking his head, and involuntarily furrowed his brow.

"You have so many questions—let's take things one step at a time! We'll leave this place first, though you actually still have the mood to worry about those folks outside." Mo Ya looked at the boy whose face was full of questions, couldn't help but wryly smile as he pulled him over, lecturing him while they left the Sparrow Pavilion, and as soon as the two stepped out of the Sparrow Pavilion they indeed saw that those who had originally lain in disarray were beginning to wake up sporadically.

"Looks like we don't need to worry about them—hurry up and leave, the general is dead, the whole sky of Xinzheng has completely changed." Mo Ya said to the waking people, his face grim, and then led the youngster away from the general's mansion. They could no longer stay here; they first needed to find a place to hide, then consider what comes next.