Chapter Twenty-Two Desperation

Tonight, the moon was enchanting, the sky scattered with countless stars. The evening breeze drifted through, as gentle and cool as the hands of a noblewoman. But within the Governor’s mansion, flames raged like dragons, roaring through the halls, accompanied by the clamour of swords and arrows, relentless and wild. The scent of blood, carried by the night wind, spread for miles.

On a swift steed, an elder gripped an unsheathed sword, shouting anxiously, "My dear apprentice! You must survive! If you fall, I’ll see the entire county of Qiantang buried alongside you!"

Ma San kept nine concubines, each charming and delicate, indulging in pleasures and luxuries beyond compare. To house his nine beauties, two-thirds of the mansion grounds were reserved for his rear courtyard. Yet the calamity of arms spared no one; fierce soldiers swept through the chambers, terrifying the noblewomen who once commanded respect, now cowering in corners, trembling. Power is bestowed by others, but when chaos reigns, can beauty alone ensure survival?

The third lady’s pavilion was the most elegant, with carved beams and painted rafters, steeped in ancient charm. From the beam, two heads suddenly appeared—Zhou Qian and Tan Hou’er.

"This is bad! The soldiers will soon discover our hiding place," Tan Hou’er whispered, glancing anxiously at the flickering lights outside.

"Is there nowhere else to hide?" Zhou Qian asked.

"I scouted the grounds. This is the most secluded spot. The third lady is the daughter of the former navy governor, and Ma San holds her in highest regard. Seems Ma San is ready to risk it all!"

"Do you know the origins of Ma San’s sixth concubine, the woman called Chun’er in the main hall?" Zhou Qian asked suddenly.

"Ma San’s sixth wife? She’s renowned—once the leading courtesan of Phoenix Song Tower, famed for her singing, dancing, and poetry. She stole the hearts of countless heroes, only to marry a brute in the end. What a pity," Tan Hou’er lamented.

"Are you interested in her? You rascal!" Tan Hou’er nudged Zhou Qian, teasing, "Good taste!"

"What are you talking about?" Zhou Qian was puzzled. "I just feel there’s something odd about her. The engravings on her sash seem to be some kind of skill that charms men—my master said such arts are only taught to women, usually by sinister cults. But why pass it to women, not men?"

"Could she be connected to the Crimson Lotus Sect?" Tan Hou’er frowned. "Is she another piece in their game?"

"We should investigate her chamber further," Zhou Qian nodded. "But honestly, you really are inexperienced—not just in the ways of the world, but also with women!" Tan Hou’er shot him a sidelong glance, "Such innocence!"

Silently, the two slipped onto the rooftop, moving under cover of night toward the sixth lady’s quarters.

Inside, Ma San was anxiously instructing Chun’er, "Pack the valuables quickly. In an hour, a boat will meet us at Qiantang Lake. You board first, I’ll deal with those two brats and join you. Scouts report that Old Zhou Xun is galloping here. We must set the stage now, or when that killer arrives, there’ll be no escape!"

Chun’er’s eyes were red, tears shimmering. "What about you, and the other ladies?"

Ma San gritted his teeth. "Forget them! Once the Divine Machine Battalion finds the body of my double, they’ll treat my surviving kin well, thinking I died heroically. Rest assured, I’ll stay with you. Hurry!"

"But what if your brothers betray you to the court—won’t the other ladies suffer?" Chun’er worried.

"Impossible!" Ma San replied firmly. "I’ve arranged their escape, and I hold leverage over them. As for the soldiers, they’re just following the orders of the Embroidered Guards, wiping out the rebels. The dead won’t talk. The key now is to catch the ones who slipped through. As for the Crimson Lotus Sect, who would believe, or dare believe, their words?"

"Then I am relieved," Chun’er replied, her lips twisting into a strange smile in the darkness.

As Zhou Qian and Tan Hou’er crept toward the sixth lady’s chamber, despite their vigilance, the soldiers’ search was so thorough—with guards every five steps, sentries every ten—that they were finally ambushed behind a rockery. Zhou Qian gained three fresh scars, and Tan Hou’er’s right arm was broken.

"Damn, there’s even a master of the Arm-Returning Fist here—since when did the Zhao family of Copper Mountain become lackeys of the court?" Tan Hou’er gasped, his face pale.

Zhou Qian quickly splinted Tan Hou’er’s arm, frowning, "We can’t hold out much longer. They probably know our location and are closing in. Your arm’s useless, and I’m nearly spent!"

They now hid in a woodshed, ducking in during the chaos. Both looked pale, their strength waning.

"Looks like our fate ends here," Tan Hou’er said, peeking out at the torch-lit night, knowing soldiers were nearby. "If only I hadn’t been so greedy—now I won’t see my father, and I’ll lose my life!"

"What are you doing?" Tan Hou’er asked, bewildered. Despite the mortal danger, Zhou Qian was munching on meat he’d somehow acquired.

"This must be Qiantang Cheng’s braised pork—so tender, the secret sauce surely contains sunflower leaves, for such rich aroma! I’ve always wanted to try it, and now fate brings it to me," Zhou Qian mumbled, savoring each bite.

"You really are determined to die on a full stomach!" Tan Hou’er sighed.

"Monkey, do you want some?"

"Of course! Why not?" Tan Hou’er snapped, chewing viciously. "I’ll eat, I’ll eat, I’ll bite you!"

As the two devoured their meal, a cold wind blew and faint sobbing echoed from behind the woodshed. They froze.

"Is this place haunted?" Tan Hou’er shivered.

"Why don’t you check?" Zhou Qian nudged him.

"The sages said to respect ghosts and keep away—I wouldn’t dare! Besides, I’m scared too!"

"But aren’t you experienced?" Zhou Qian countered.

"I’m only experienced in the martial world, not in dealing with ghosts!"

Though skilled beyond their years, both were still young and naturally fearful of the supernatural. After much debate, they compromised and went together.

Cautiously, Zhou Qian and Tan Hou’er opened a crack in the back door. The rear yard held a well amid overgrown grass, two old willows swaying, dry leaves swirling. A girl crouched by the well, her face hidden, crying softly.

"There really is a female ghost!" Tan Hou’er stammered.

"Not a ghost—it’s Wang Wei, the girl from the banquet earlier," Zhou Qian noticed the unique golden sword beside her.

"The second daughter of the Golden Sword Wang family? She escaped too?" Tan Hou’er called out, "Miss Wang, you made it out?"

Wang Wei shuddered, revealing a face paler than frost, still wet with tears. She drew her sword, whispering, "Who’s there?"

"It’s us!" Tan Hou’er grinned, "We met at the banquet—the thieves!"

"So it’s you!" Wang Wei’s suspicion faded and she relaxed, lowering her sword. "Why are you here?"

"We were chased and ducked in here to escape. But you, how did you get here?"

After Zhou Qian’s group fled, several Crimson Lotus masters leapt from windows to pursue them, but Ma San’s hidden archers brought down three with a volley. Reinforcements arrived, forming a deadly viper trap; fierce fighting ensued. Even the secret-trained poison cultists of Crimson Lotus were nearly wiped out, and Lü Zheng died on the spot. The soldiers suffered too—Wang Wei’s brother perished, and Lord Liu of the Embroidered Guards sacrificed himself to save her, hoping she could escape and warn Inspector Ma.

"My brother, Lord Liu—they died because of me," Wang Wei sobbed.

"Life and death are fate, no one’s to blame. That’s the martial world," Tan Hou’er mused.

"But you’re unharmed—didn’t you run into the soldiers?" Zhou Qian asked.

"There’s an old tunnel beneath this well, leading to the rockery in the rear garden. I hid there and overheard Granny She and her followers talking—they plan to meet someone soon," Wang Wei whispered.

A commotion erupted, and the woodshed front door was kicked open. Tan Hou’er acted instantly, "Jump into the well!"

Inside, soldiers rummaged, swords drawn, crossbows ready, then kicked open the back door, puzzled. After a while, the sounds faded, and the three in darkness finally breathed easy.

"Uh—what are you two doing?" Tan Hou’er teased.

Time was tight; Tan Hou’er jumped first, Zhou Qian followed, Wang Wei last. The narrow well forced Tan Hou’er to shield Zhou Qian, who shielded Wang Wei. Tan Hou’er suffered, and when he turned, he saw Wang Wei clinging tightly to Zhou Qian, her lips pressed to his cheek, Zhou Qian’s hands gripping her soft, warm hips—a fiery scene.

In Zhou Qian’s daze, he felt a soft body fall into his arms, instinctively squeezing, curious at the softness and resilience...

"Ah—!" Wang Wei shrieked, shoving Zhou Qian away.

A slap landed hard on Zhou Qian’s face, leaving him bewildered.

"Lecher! Scoundrel!" Wang Wei cursed.

"Well, to be fair, Miss Wang, you did jump into his arms," Tan Hou’er said, enjoying the spectacle.

"But, but—" Wang Wei’s chest heaved with anger, "How could he touch me—it’s his fault!" She pouted, pointing accusingly at Zhou Qian.

Zhou Qian remained baffled, unable to explain.

"Come now, young lady. You should consider our situation—wolves surround us! Besides, my friend here knows little about such matters; no need to be angry with a blockhead," Tan Hou’er advised, knowing every ally was precious.

Wang Wei glared at Zhou Qian for a long moment, then turned away disdainfully. Tan Hou’er sighed.

"Miss Wang, what did you overhear from Granny She?" Tan Hou’er asked.

"I couldn’t catch the details, but we shouldn’t linger here. From their tone, Granny She and her group will return within half an hour."

"I see." Tan Hou’er fell into thought, using a twig to scribble the names of Ma San, the sixth lady, and Lü Zheng on the ground.

Zhou Qian, having been slapped by a young beauty, knew he must have offended her, though he was innocent of intent. He had half a piece of saucy beef left and chewed on it quietly.

"You’re really carefree!" Wang Wei couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

"Want some?" Zhou Qian tore off a generous piece and offered it earnestly.

Wang Wei was about to refuse when her stomach grumbled, her cheeks reddening. After a moment’s hesitation, she saw Zhou Qian’s clean face and clear eyes—he didn’t seem bad. Unable to resist hunger, she wrapped the meat in her handkerchief and thanked him softly. Exhausted and famished, the beef’s flavor overwhelmed her—surely the most delicious she’d ever tasted.

Zhou Qian watched her eat hungrily, as if afraid someone might snatch it. Though his own stomach protested, he handed over the rest.

After wolfing down two pieces, Wang Wei licked her lips and noticed Zhou Qian’s longing gaze at the meat scraps, swallowing hard. She realized he hadn’t eaten enough either.

After a moment’s hesitation, she asked quietly, "Are you truly the disciple of the Hundred-Armed Sword Immortal? Isn’t he famous for never accepting disciples?"

"My master is Zhou Xun. You know him?" Zhou Qian replied honestly.

"I met him once as a child, unforgettable."

"Oh?" Zhou Qian was curious about his master’s past.

"When I was six, Master Zhou visited Wang Fortress. My grandfather, proud and competitive, challenged him, since Master Zhou was reputed as the best swordsman. Zhou was blunt—said my grandfather’s swordplay was worthless, and wouldn’t last fifty moves against him. Grandpa, never one to back down, bet that if he lasted fifty moves, Zhou would lend him the Broken Sword Four Forms manual; if he lost, he’d shave his head. He only lasted twenty-two moves, so had to go bald, cursing Master Zhou for a year. The whole fortress was in chaos! After that, Grandpa never dueled again," Wang Wei laughed, recalling the scene.

"So Master was so fierce back then!" Zhou Qian was surprised; he’d always known Zhou Xun as kindly.

"Indeed! Master Zhou was called the Sword Madman—always challenging skilled swordsmen, never holding back. Famous swordsmen dreaded his name and wished to bury themselves whenever he appeared!"

"My master truly is the greatest!" Zhou Qian declared with conviction.

Wang Wei’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "But how did such a great man end up with a blockhead—no, a wooden disciple like you? Isn’t that right, Little Wood?"

Before Zhou Qian could respond, Tan Hou’er interjected, "Women are strange—just now you wanted to kill him, and now you’re flirting!"

Both blushed, but Tan Hou’er turned serious, "I’ve just thought of a plan. It could get us out of this death trap, but it’s risky—a true last stand!"