Chapter Fifty-One: A Beauty Like Jade

In the early morning light, a fair and tender arm slipped from beneath the quilt, accompanied by a languid, gentle woman's voice: "It's already late, you should get up too. If the steward finds out, he’ll say I’ve bewitched you again. Who’s to say who’s seducing whom? Dear, open your eyes—there are lots of free novels to read."

"Don't listen to Steward Sun, Sister Zhao. The old man just likes to meddle!" The silk quilt rustled with movement. "Haha, stop it! You’re being naughty," came the sound of playful gasps.

Ying Zhao’er struggled to sit up, revealing her delicate shoulders and swan-like neck, her slender waist framed by a face as fair as jade. A pink bodice barely concealed her upper body, the fullness of her breasts straining against the fabric, occasionally revealing a tantalizing glimpse. "You rascal..." she half-chided, half-cooed.

A hand reached from deep beneath the quilt, skillfully slipping under her bodice to gently caress her breast, and with a pull, drew Ying Zhao’er back into his embrace. Another hand let the bedcurtain fall, and only the outline of a slim waist and a masculine back could be glimpsed, the man's strong body pressing against Zhao’er's softness.

"Zhou Qian, you scoundrel!" Her voice quivered between pleasure and protest.

"Sister Zhao, do you remember that lecherous thief Liu San I caught last time?" Zhou Qian suddenly asked earnestly.

"Hm? What about it?" Ying Zhao’er’s eyes were clouded with longing.

"After I caught him, I secretly kept some of the stolen goods for myself. Among them was a sensational manual," Zhou Qian said, feigning mystery.

"Oh?" Ying Zhao’er was puzzled. "What kind of martial art could surprise even you?"

"The Heart Sutra of Mastering Women—a truly extraordinary tome. It contains a set of Dragon Whip techniques with almost supernatural power!" Zhou Qian grinned.

"Bah! It can’t be anything good," Zhao’er laughed, flashing him a flirtatious glance.

"This whip technique can only unleash its full power on the bed, especially when used on heroines like you. It’s particularly effective—try my first move…"

A muffled moan escaped Ying Zhao’er, followed by breathless, lingering sounds…

After a long while, not until Ying Zhao’er was utterly spent and pleaded for mercy, did Zhou Qian finally relent. He slipped from the bed, opened the window, and sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating his bare upper body. The dozen scars crisscrossing his skin were shocking, a few of them perilously close to his vital organs.

"That’s two more scars on your back," came a faint voice from behind him.

Zhou Qian paused, deliberately pulling on his robe to hide the wounds before replying, "Two cuts in exchange for the lives of the Twin Devils of Xiangxi—a fair bargain."

"How long will you be gone this time? Half a year, or a full year?" Ying Zhao’er bowed her head.

"My master is retiring from the martial world. I must uphold the name of the Hundred-Armed Sword Immortal. I…" A man’s words always falter before a woman’s tears. Seeing Zhao’er silently weeping, Zhou Qian felt everything he could say was powerless and hollow.

"Sister Zhao, I promise you, once this is over, I’ll wander the world with you—wherever you wish. We’ll see the grasslands beyond the frontier, the gardens and lakes of Suzhou and Hangzhou, watch the sunrise by the sea, and climb to the snowy mountain’s peak to catch birds in the clouds. Just let me finish this one thing—just this one thing! Then the martial world will finally be at peace." Zhou Qian embraced Ying Zhao’er tightly, murmuring his oath.

"Come back alive! Come back alive! That’s my only wish. You can do it—you must!"

"Third Young Master!" came the maid Xiaoyun’s call from outside. "Master is looking for you—it seems urgent."

"I know," Zhou Qian replied.

"Go on, go on," Zhao’er said, unable to hide her reluctance.

He hurried to the main hall, where many martial artists, each bearing swords and exuding extraordinary presence, had already gathered. In the center, Zhou Xun, Tu Yong, Master Wei of the Tang Clan, and Abbot Pudu of Shaoshi Temple—four giants of the martial world—were poring over a map, deep in whispered conversation.

"Zhou Qian, my young nephew, as planned, you’ll lead your group out the north gate, take the river route, board the Sandbird Tower ship of the Dragon King of West Sea, follow the river westward past Bird Island, enter the canal, then continue west, detouring two thousand miles from Baishui Beach," Tu Yong traced a broad arc with his thick finger, looping into Li River. "Go behind the mountains—remember, all the goods are with you! You’re our ambush!" Tu Yong widened his ox-like eyes, glanced around, and then lowered his voice.

"I understand the stakes. But what about the imperial troops? How are they being deployed?" Zhou Qian frowned. "Li Mountain is so vast and interlaced, stretching for tens of thousands of miles. The imperial army can’t possibly garrison the mountains, can it?"

"We’re transferring elites from the Divine Martial, Hidden Sun, and Divine Mechanism armies. Ordinary soldiers are useless against martial artists like us. I hear His Majesty has also dispatched the fabled Celestial Strategy Secret Guards," Tu Yong grunted.

"Celestial Strategy Secret Guards?" Zhou Qian was puzzled. "I’ve never heard of them."

"Hmph. They’re a secret force the Emperor created specifically to deal with us martial artists. It’s said that even the lowest ranks have reached the Bone-Refining level, and their armor is forged from refined metal—impervious to blades, immune to fire and water. They’re the bane of martial warriors."

"Bone-Refining level!" Zhou Qian exclaimed. "I doubt the entire martial world has that many experts at such a stage."

"Hmph. I think Master Wei of the Tang Clan knows more than anyone—perhaps these Celestial Strategy Guards were trained by the Tang Clan," Tu Yong said, not hiding his suspicion.

"Heh, Master Tu gives me too much credit. The Tang Clan merely does some gunpowder business with the Divine Mechanism Battalion. As for court secrets like these, how could I possibly know?" Master Wei replied with a forced smile.

"Gentlemen, please allow this humble monk to speak," Abbot Pudu pressed his palms together. "With a great enemy before us, should we not unite to destroy evil? The rest can wait."

"Master speaks wisely," Zhou Xun nodded. "If there’s nothing else, go make your arrangements. Two groups in the open, two in the shadows, plus a surprise attack—Qian, be cautious. Don’t be reckless!"

Master and disciple nodded in silent understanding. "There are spies outside the manor. Don’t let them notice anything!"

"Yes!"

"Haha! I’ll walk you out, nephew!" Tu Yong pulled Zhou Qian to a secluded spot.

"Be wary of the Tang Clan!" Tu Yong warned gravely. "Your master and I both suspect Old Wei."

"Is the Tang Clan still involved with remnants of the former dynasty?" Zhou Qian frowned.

"The Tang Clan is the youngest among the greats—just decades ago, they were a minor sect in Hezhou. In forty short years, their influence now reaches both the underworld and the righteous. There’s a lot of intrigue, and the clan leader is an ambitious man—he’s likely playing all sides."

Zhou Qian nodded, understanding. "I’ll be traveling with the Tang Clan’s deputy leader and the Golden Fire Guanyin Wei Guang. Will they be a threat?"

Tu Yong nodded. "Trust no one. Who in the martial world isn’t tempted by gold and treasure? You can know a man’s face but never his heart. I’ve arranged for Wang Hu to assist you in secret."

"Second Brother is here too?!" Zhou Qian exclaimed in delight.

Soon after, a young servant left the Hu family estate, wearing a blue cap and carrying a bamboo basket on a shoulder pole. He walked briskly out the gate. Immediately, a vendor selling dried fruit exchanged glances with two idle men nearby, who followed the servant.

But the little servant seemed to sense he was being tailed, quickly turning into an alley. At a fork, he slipped away, and the two idlers lost sight of him.

"Where did the brat go?" the pair muttered.

"Looking for me, gentlemen?" The two spun around in shock.

The little servant grinned, flashing his white teeth, then smashed a brick over the head of one man—crack! The brick shattered, and the man collapsed, rolling on the ground clutching his head.

Seeing this, the other rushed forward, but the servant, having learned a few basic moves, managed to knock him down after taking a couple of hits himself.

Wiping his mouth disdainfully, the servant said, "I’ve trained a bit myself, you know!"

Turning around, he suddenly found a man in black standing behind him. Startled, he stammered, "W-who are you? I serve the Hu family—don’t try anything foolish!"

"You had many guests at the manor today. Tell me everything you know, and I’ll spare your life," the masked man rasped.

"Is that so? But isn’t it said that Ironfoot Flying Eagle never leaves anyone alive? Are you making an exception today?" the servant replied coolly.

"Who are you? You’re no servant!" Ironfoot Flying Eagle was shocked.

"Your qinggong is excellent, but within three yards, you let your guard down," the servant—no, Zhou Qian—shook his head.

"You did it on purpose?"

"How else to draw you out?"

"Is your sword really that fast?"

"Try me."

Ironfoot Flying Eagle gritted his teeth and flung a handful of white powder to obscure the way, then leapt more than a yard into the air, pleased at his escape. But just as he tried to soar, he felt a pain at his neck—a thin line of blood appeared mysteriously.

"When—?" Ironfoot Flying Eagle spat blood and fell, eyes open in death.

Zhou Qian hid his sword inside the shoulder pole, lowered his head, and quietly left the alley.

To slay a man every ten steps, and travel a thousand miles without leaving a trace.