Yan Wushi sputtered out a laugh and finally paused in his steps. He placed Shen Qiao down on the ground. “A-Qiao, oh A-Qiao, you always surprise me. I was thinking you’d ask me why I’m telling all this, but no: you’re still worrying about whether other people will live or die. Relax, only those who cultivate to a certain level will realize this flaw. And those who can cultivate past the ninth stage, like me, have very few in the jianghu to match them. Even if they do know of the problem, they’d be unwilling to abandon this set of martial arts.
“My story is finished,” he said. “Do you have any thoughts?”
Shen Qiao shook his head.
Yan Wushi seemed to find his reaction dull; he was about to say something when the sound of laughter drifted to them from afar. “Sect Leader Yan is just as magnificent as ever. How I’ve missed you!”
The voice seemed both near and far, as if it came from over the horizon but was also right next to one’s ear. There was an indescribable seductiveness to the voice—when Shen Qiao heard it, he was suddenly overcome with an ominous feeling.
“Sang Jingxing,” Yan Wushi said coldly, “Are you trying to humiliate yourself by using ‘Demonic Persuasion’ on me?”
The newcomer laughed. As if space itself had shrunk down to mere inches, he walked up to them from afar in the span of just a few steps.
Sang Jingxing’s reputation in the jianghu was far worse than Yan Wushi’s, but he was a terrifying martial artist, so few were willing to confront him openly. They’d rather force down their words and keep the peace.
The most obvious example was what had happened a couple of years ago with Xian Province’s “Mad Blade the Matchless,” Ren Yin. His fair, lovely youngest daughter had inadvertently drawn Sang Jingxing’s interest, and Sang Jingxing demanded to take her as his disciple. Everyone knew that this was only an excuse to satisfy his endless search for girls to use in his parasitic pair cultivation practices. Ren Yin normally had an aggressive, fiery temper, but in the end, he didn’t dare resist. He willingly bore the public’s mockery and humiliation and handed his youngest daughter over, then withdrew from the jianghu with his family. He never involved himself with it ever again. Rumor said that only a few years after the daughter entered Hehuan Sect, Sang Jingxing and various high-ranking men in the sect grew tired of playing with her. He tossed her to his disciple Huo Xijing, who skinned off her face to put on one of his wooden dolls. It became part of his collection.
But then Yan Wushi had reemerged in the jianghu, and he was far more imperious than Sang Jingxing. So the public’s attention was drawn away by Yan Wushi, and they gradually forgot how cruel and terrifying Sang Jingxing was.
As Cui Youwang’s disciple, Sang Jingxing was never someone to be looked down upon. He concealed his ambitions beneath a frivolous surface—everyone expected him to happily settle into a life as Yuan Xiuxiu’s intimate confidant, helping her manage the workings of Hehuan Sect. In truth, the conflict between the two had been brewing in Hehuan Sect for some time, but Yuan Xiuxiu couldn’t do anything to Sang Jingxing, and Sang Jingxing couldn’t kill Yuan Xiuxiu at the moment. Their only option was to hold their noses while maintaining the facade of camaraderie for the time being.
Although he was naturally tall and strapping, his face was extraordinarily, delicately beautiful. His skin was even finer and smoother than a woman’s, his eyes liquid and soulful. The only misfortune was how frigid and sinister his gaze was—it made everyone afraid to meet it.
A smile hung on his lips as he greeted Yan Wushi. “I heard that Zhou intends to invade Qi. Is it true that it made Yuan Xiuxiu so anxious, she went to find Sect Leader Yan, hoping you’d help her kill me?”
Yuan Xiuxiu would have been astounded to hear him say this. It was supposed to have been a secret plot—no one had known about her going to Yan Wushi. Yet, somehow, the news had been leaked.
“That’s right,” said Yan Wushi.
“Then did Sect Leader Yan come here to kill me today?”
“I’m delivering someone to you.”
Sang Jingxing’s eyes fell to Shen Qiao. “Who’s he? Mm, he’s quite good-looking.”
“Shen Qiao.”
Sang Jingxing narrowed his eyes, and in an instant his relaxed and careless gaze became razor-sharp. “The one who killed Huo Xijing, that Shen Qiao?”
“Correct.”
Abruptly, Sang Jingxing burst out laughing. “I heard that Sect Leader Yan was ardently involved with him! Why are you suddenly willing to hand him over to me? I’m not a merciful man! If you end up wanting him back, it’ll be too late once I break him!”
“As soon as he’s in your hands, you can do whatever you want with him. I won’t involve my venerable self ever again.”
With this promise, Sang Jinxing’s grin noticeably widened. While Shen Qiao obviously wasn’t one of the teenage boys or girls he usually preferred, the man was blessed with good looks. More importantly, even a rotten boat had useful nails—Shen Qiao was Qi Fengge’s disciple. His martial arts and status might have plummeted, but the foundations of his martial arts were still there. Absorbing every last drop of Shen Qiao’s martial abilities after he was done using him—that wasn’t a bad idea.
“So Sect Leader Yan is going to give him to me, just like that? No conditions attached?”
“Return this venerable one’s sword,” said Yan Wushi.
Sang Jingxing hadn’t been expecting that. He was taken aback, then burst out laughing. “Unfortunately, I didn’t bring it with me today! I hope you won’t mind if I send someone else over with it later?”
That sword was called Taihua—it was the sword Yan Wushi used to wield. It had been taken from him after he lost to Cui Youwang, and when Cui Youwang died, the sword naturally fell into the hands of his disciple, Sang Jingxing.
“That’s fine,” agreed Yan Wushi.
Sang Jingxing probed further. “I thought, what with Sect Leader Yan’s grand martial accomplishments, it shouldn’t make any difference whether you have a sword or not. Why do you want Taihua returned all of a sudden?”
Sang Jingxing was harboring a small shred of fearful caution for Yan Wushi’s martial prowess. He wouldn’t speak so courteously otherwise.
“What’s mine will be mine, even after a hundred years,” said Yan Wushi coolly. “The only difference is whether I want it back or not.”
Sang Jingxing smiled understandingly, then went for some half-sincere teasing. “I’ve been hearing for a while now that Sect Leader Yan and Shen Qiao were glued at the hip, like a celestial couple! To think that Shen Qiao is only worth a sword to you. It’s enough to make one sigh!”