Chapter 52:
Group Ambush
SHEN QIAO had attained the echelon of sword heart, but it wasn’t yet stable. On top of that, he’d just dueled Kunye—his mind and body were exhausted, and he could scarcely continue. Now, as Kunye slashed down at him from above, he only stood in place, his face stark white, as if his mind had ground to a halt. He stared in a daze, unable to react in time.
Everyone else was too far away to do anything. They’d only seen that Shen Qiao had clearly been about to kill Kunye, only to stop when he’d loudly begged for mercy. Then the two of them spoke about something, and while Shen Qiao was distracted, Kunye abruptly struck, trying to kill him while he was off guard.
Shiwu screamed in alarm. “Shizun! Watch out!”
Kunye’s breathing grew ragged and heavy. He could practically hear his own heart pounding. With this strike, he was sure to shatter Shen Qiao’s skull and crush his brains, killing him straight away!
He didn’t think his actions shameless or unjust because he wasn’t only a martial artist—he was the Göktürks’ Wise King of the Left. Shen Qiao opposed the collusion between Xuandu Mountain and the Khaganate. If Kunye let him fully realize the sword heart, Shen Qiao would become a huge threat hanging over both the Khaganate and Xuandu Mountain. He had to uproot this threat while it was still just a sprout—he absolutely couldn’t give it any chance to develop and grow.
All of this took only an instant.
Saber qi that blotted out both heaven and earth came bearing down. Shen Qiao stayed rooted in place, not moving an inch. Perhaps he couldn’t move in time, or perhaps he hadn’t returned to his senses. Or perhaps he was stunned by Kunye’s overwhelming attack. He didn’t even raise the sword in his hand. He only took three steps back.
To everyone else, it looked like a mere three steps, but to Kunye, those three steps were enough to span a chasm. And so he missed.
Finally, Shen Qiao attacked with his sword.
The sword glare blazed, a white ray that seemed to pierce the sun itself. It burst through the massive screen from Kunye’s saber and thrust right into Kunye’s chest.
When he’d missed, Kunye had frozen as well, unable to move even half a step. His expression seemed to solidify too as he stared at Shen Qiao, unblinking.
“Why…did…” It took all his strength to speak just two words.
The sword glare vanished. Shen Qiao was only inches in front of Kunye. They were so close—if they breathed, they’d collide.
But the point of Shanhe Tongbei’s blade had already stabbed into Kunye’s chest.
Shen Qiao’s face was paper white—he didn’t look much better than Kunye. If his sword wasn’t skewered into Kunye’s body, it would look like he was the one who’d lost.
“Because I was on guard against you the entire time,” he said coldly. “How can I trust someone who poisoned their opponent with Joyful Reunion to respect the martial code of honor?”
Shen Qiao then said to him, “You’ve truly disappointed me. My shizun once said that Hulugu was an opponent worthy of his respect. But you, Hulugu’s disciple, don’t have even a tenth of his character. You’re unworthy of being his disciple!”
Kunye opened his mouth as if trying to retort. But Shen Qiao yanked the sword from his torso, and all that poured from his mouth was fresh blood.
Shen Qiao pushed lightly off the ground, sweeping several meters away to dodge the blood that spewed from the wound his sword left in Kunye’s chest.
Kunye didn’t move at all, and his breaths gradually petered out. But his eyes were still wide open, and his body refused to fall.
This tragic, moving tableau of one who refused to fall in defeat—it shouldn’t happen to someone like him.
Shen Qiao walked over, and with his sword gave him a gentle push.
Kunye fell straight backward, then finally exhaled his last.
Shen Qiao looked at him, his face devoid of joy.
This man was the source of Xuandu Mountain’s turmoil; everything had begun with him. Kunye’s challenge to battle on Banbu Peak had also raised the curtain on all the misfortunes and setbacks Shen Qiao had suffered.
Now Kunye was dead, but things were far from finished. Xuandu Mountain would never return to the peaceful days of its past. And as for the world itself, the flames and smoke of war would inevitably arise once again.
Shiwu and the rest all cheered when they saw Kunye fall, but their elation was short-lived—they saw Shen Qiao collapse onto one knee, supporting himself with the sword. He coughed up a large mouthful of blood. At the sight of this, they were terrified.
A canyon yawned between the two sides. Shiwu wasn’t skilled enough at qinggong to glide across. Just as he was panicking, Zhao Chiying landed next to Shen Qiao. She took his arm, and holding him by waist, she leapt back across with him.
With less distance between them, everyone finally realized that Shen Qiao’s face had gone beyond pale. He was only at half his old martial power, and although he’d broken through to the echelon of sword heart at the critical moment, forcibly smashing through his limits with his true qi was too great a burden on his body. Coughing up blood was a natural consequence.
But more serious than the blood was that he couldn’t stand on his own. More than half his weight was on Zhao Chiying.
“I apologize for my rudeness…” Shen Qiao said, brows furrowed. His voice was nearly inaudible.
“Daoist Master Shen gave everything you had for Bixia Sect, while I, the sect leader, only looked on from the sidelines. I should be the one apologizing.”
She bent down and pulled Shen Qiao onto her back, then set off carrying him back to the sect.
Yue Kunchi watched in silence.
He’d been about to offer to carry Shen Qiao himself, but his shimei took action before he got the chance. The offer remained stuck in his throat—either swallowing it down or saying it out loud felt wrong. In the end, he just stared at Zhao Chiying’s back awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
Shiwu trailed after them like a little tail. Even though he couldn’t help at all, seeing Shen Qiao was the only thing that could put his mind at ease. But Shen Qiao sank into unconsciousness the moment Zhao Chiying brought him inside, and no amount of calling out could wake him. Zhao Chiying told Shiwu that Shen Qiao had only overtaxed himself and needed time to recover, but Shiwu still stayed by his bedside and refused to leave for even a moment.
Shen Qiao was unconscious for a long time. His dreams were bizarre and varied, flashing past many people and events. When he finally woke up, he sank into a reverie, his expression still somewhat vacant.
“Shizun?” Shiwu worriedly waved a hand in front of Shen Qiao’s eyes.
Shen Qiao grabbed his hand with a laugh. “I’m fine.”
He’d looked feeble and sickly ever since his foundations had been destroyed, and he’d started practicing with the Zhuyang Strategy anew. Combined with his damaged eyes, no one who saw him walking around outside would believe he was a martial artist who’d achieved the echelon of sword heart. Calling him a bedridden, chronically ill convalescent would be much more believable.
As Shiwu had personally brought him back from death’s door before, he had a deeper understanding of Shen Qiao’s injuries. Deep down, he was constantly terrified that Shen Qiao might collapse at any moment.
Shen Qiao must have sensed his mood because he stroked the boy’s head and asked, “Is Kunye dead?”
Shiwu nodded. “He is. Sect Leader Zhao confirmed it herself.”
Shen Qiao released a slow breath of relief.
It wasn’t yet a year since the duel on Banbu Peak, but so many things had happened during that span. When he looked back, it felt just like yesterday.
“Shiwu, if someone handed you over to a cruel and evil man, and that led to the destruction of your foundations and Daoist core, would you hate him?”
Shiwu nodded. “I would.”
“Now, that someone is in great danger. If you stand by and watch him die, many innocent people could end up losing their lives or becoming destitute drifters. Would you save him then?”
Shiwu frowned hard as he thought and thought. It was obvious that this question was a bit too complex and abstract for a boy his age. The most complicated, most tragic thing he’d gone through were the deaths of Zhu Lengquan and Chuyi.
A laugh escaped Shen Qiao. He already knew the answer, so why go and trouble a child over it?
Shiwu was perceptive. He raised his head and asked, “Shizun, are you going to save him? Was he the one who almost got you killed?”
Shen Qiao nodded. He didn’t hide it. “Yes.”
Shiwu was furious. “Someone that cruelhearted doesn’t deserve to be saved!”
Shen Qiao shook his head. “He’s not cruelhearted—he never had a heart in the first place. He treats everyone in the world with the same callousness, and he’ll never be particularly gentle toward anyone. But I didn’t understand that part. I thought that even the hardest of hearts could be thawed one day. I took him for a friend, and I believed that he should do the same. But that belief was unrequited.”
“If you took him for a friend, shouldn’t he take you as his friend too?”
Shen Qiao laughed. “No. In this world there are many, many situations where giving someone something doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll receive anything in return. When you choose to give, you must remember this, or else the only one hurt will be you.”
Somehow, Shiwu felt like there was a deeper meaning to Shen Qiao’s words and smile. But he could barely understand what Shen Qiao had told him in the first place, let alone grasp the implications behind the message.
“…That means you’re going to go down the mountain to save that man?”
Shen Qiao was silent for a long time. “Yes,” he said.
“I’ll go with you!” cried Shiwu without the slightest hesitation.
That was the last thing he said to Shen Qiao while conscious.