Schatzkammer von Jianghu

Kapitel 87

Smoke and mist gradually rise, the red sun sets in the west. Clouds and water stretch far into the distance, the long night is far from over.

In the grand afterglow, the sea, with its roaring tides and snowy white waves, questions the heavens and the earth: what can be immortal?

The two remained there for an unknown amount of time—a moment? An hour? But the magnificent sunset they witnessed over the sea made all the sorrow seem insignificant in comparison.

"Leng Shuangcheng, thank you." Zhao Yingcheng stood against the wind, his mind calmed for a long time, and finally said in a low voice.

Leng Shuangcheng chuckled but remained silent, gazing at the dark night.

"Please tell me, what exactly happened after you kidnapped Yang Wan that day?"

Leng Shuangcheng pondered for a moment, then explained everything about Yang Wan to him. Zhao Yingcheng listened carefully, tears welling up in his eyes, and asked in a deep voice, "What exactly is this poisonous blood?"

Leng Shuangcheng slowly curled her pale, slender fingers, placed them on her knees, and said tremblingly, "The Red Fruit is a domineering and insidious medicine. When mixed with the highly poisonous Chi Chuanzi, it is refined into 'Heavenly Secret Divine Water.' The toxicity of this substance develops slowly. If one cannot resist the toxicity, the poison will invade the bloodstream, initially damaging the bones, burning the limbs, and forcing the brain to forget many things... Eventually, the blood will slowly flow into the heart and accumulate, the poison will corrode the internal organs, forcing the consumer's hair to turn completely white, and coughing up large amounts of blood to die."

She finished speaking in a sullen voice, her body trembling violently. She continued, "I have experienced Xiaobai's pain. I can tell you with certainty that if her mind is disturbed again, she will not be able to control the pain. Her whole body will burn unbearably, and she will go crazy and commit suicide."

Zhao Yingcheng let out a low, hoarse roar and said painfully, "I understand now. This is why you have always protected her... I should apologize to you." After saying that, he turned around, bowed deeply to Leng Shuangcheng, and said, "After we part tomorrow, may she live a carefree life."

Leng Shuangcheng snapped out of her daze, gazing at the last rays of the setting sun, and suddenly burst into tears, saying, "Young Master Zhao, I want to ask you... if a difficult matter were placed before you, and you knew that the outcome was only half successful, would you still do it?"

Zhao Yingcheng was taken aback and asked, "Leng Shuangcheng, what's wrong with you?"

Leng Shuangcheng gave a miserable smile, a smile of despair as it swayed in the wind on the cliff: "My blood suddenly felt hot, which can only mean one thing, that is, an old friend has come to visit... He waited for a full quarter of an hour but did not show himself. I originally thought that he was afraid of being captured by you... But now I realize that he was waiting for the sun to set and night to fall."

After she finished speaking the last word, a shadow swiftly appeared in the sky. In the blink of an eye, she struck out with lightning speed, grabbing Zhao Yingcheng's wrist and pulling him sharply towards the stone!

With a thud, a figure in cyan descended from the sky, his cyan robe billowing like waves, his body as stiff as iron, standing straight in front of the two!

The newcomer had a rigid face, wide-open, blank, and silent eyes. Apart from his flowing clothes and hair, there was no trace of life in his body. Two transparent, icy silk threads fell lightly from his sides, dragging on the stone surface and remaining limp.

Lin Qingluan.

Leng Shuangcheng gazed at his face, tears streaming down her face. "Lin Qingluan, you ultimately couldn't escape the clutches of the Tantric sect. You've been cruelly harmed to this extent." She grabbed Zhao Yingcheng's hand and hurriedly retreated into the dense forest, anxiously explaining, "I was worried when we set out. Such a high-profile pursuit of Xiaobai couldn't possibly go unnoticed by the Tantric sect… Now they've sent Lin Qingluan, probably to capture me too…" Looking back, she realized that Huang Yushuxue's intentions weren't so simple:

Suddenly, a large group of black and white assassins rolled out from the dense, misty forest, numbering no less than five hundred.

Old Jin, his face covered by a veil, hid in the bushes, watching Yuwen Xiaobai reluctantly leave Leng Shuangcheng, but made no move. On one hand, his master's target wasn't him, and on the other hand, he genuinely liked the innocent Yuwen Xiaobai, so after the ambush at Xianju, he once again gave Xiaobai a break.

They had been waiting for an opportunity for Leng Shuangcheng to be alone for a long time. Their master even planned to abandon the plan and transfer Lin Qingluan elsewhere, preparing to assassinate Leng Shuangcheng when the two armies were facing off.

Unexpectedly, Yuwen Xiaobai lured Leng Shuangcheng out. After receiving the secret report, they came fully prepared and mobilized their entire force.

Seeing that the Heavenly Cicada Silk controlling Lin Qingluan was accurately severed, Lao Jin waved his hand and led Shuiyin and the assassins away on the ground.

The master gave a death order: either Leng Shuangcheng or Zhao Yingcheng must be captured alive.

The black and white ninjas, like snowflakes falling from a cliff, wielded sharp blades. They rose up like falling leaves, their blades flashing across the dark night sky as they swept down towards the edge of the forest.

The impenetrable ranks were torn apart in several places, as if several sections of an airtight city wall had collapsed, allowing assassins to pierce through them instantly. Those with inferior martial arts skills were the first to have their heads cut off.

The evening wind came quickly, the grass and trees rustled, and a desolate and murderous aura enveloped the world.

Old Jin slashed left and right with his sword, the blade gleaming white. Two iron-cast bodies fell to the ground, splattering hot, dripping blood that met his blade and slid down.

He pursed his lips and let out a whistle.

Lin Qingluan carried Leng Feng in his hand, walking step by step like an iron stake. The sea breeze blew on his face, but his face remained expressionless.

Leng Shuangcheng led Zhao Yingcheng back step by step, then turned to him and said, "Young Master Zhao, your safety is of utmost importance. Do you understand what I mean?"

Zhao Yingcheng was alarmed and reached out to grab Leng Shuangcheng's wrist, shouting, "I, Zhao Yingcheng, am not so afraid of death!"

Leng Shuangcheng grabbed his arm and said urgently, "The assassins are stronger than us. They will kill all the guards in less than a quarter of an hour. Then you won't be able to escape either!" She pushed Zhao Yingcheng hard and rushed towards Lin Qingluan.

Lin Qingluan suddenly raised her longsword, its chilling aura slashing towards Leng Shuangcheng. Leng Shuangcheng gathered his strength in both palms and grabbed at him with his bare hands. The two engaged in a fierce battle on the rugged stone path.

Zhao Yingcheng lowered his eyes, his inner strength surging forth with a whoosh. The fabric around him billowed in the wind, revealing a golden silk robe that billowed like a sail. He spread his palms and charged towards the waves of enemies.

Old Jin saw it clearly, and the blade met Zhao Yingcheng's fierce Demon-Subduing Palm technique.

Amidst the sounds of the ocean waves and the pervasive atmosphere of blood and gore, the crowd clashed in a fierce battle at the edge of the cliff and the dense forest.

The sun sank below the horizon, disappearing its last rays, plunging the world into darkness and obscuring all life.

While his subordinates were engrossed in fighting Zhao Yingcheng, Lao Jin glanced up at the broken wall. Leng Shuangcheng, dressed in light robes, darted through the rocks in a few quick movements, dodging Lin Qingluan's stiff and domineering killing intent.

"You really can't bring yourself to do it." Old Jin snorted coldly, then leaped towards the cliff face, letting out a long howl.

Suddenly, Lin Qingluan stopped in her tracks, turned her longsword around, and resolutely plunged it into her heart!

Leng Shuangcheng's eyes narrowed. She quickly moved behind him, grabbing his shoulders with both hands and pulling him up.

Her arms were as firm as mountains, but the vital point on her chest was wide open behind Lin Qingluan. She couldn't let go, otherwise Lin Qingluan would surely commit suicide.

She seemed to have overlooked something: if the intention was to have Lin Qingluan commit suicide, why go through all this trouble to deliver her to her?

Old Jin revealed a smug smile.

Lin Qingluan's sword tip swerved sharply, piercing through Leng Shuangcheng's side like a rainbow piercing the sun, and thrusting towards his back. With a soft "pop," the chilling blade pierced through Leng Shuangcheng's right chest, protruding three inches beyond the edge.

She shifted slightly, but still couldn't dodge, and was severely wounded by the sword.

The sword tip was as white as snow, dripping with crimson plum blossom blood. Leng Shuangcheng's body trembled violently as the sword was slowly pulled out again. She was in unbearable pain, hissing softly like a leopard on the verge of death.

As the longsword left her back, Leng Shuangcheng coughed several times, blood trickling down her chin. She swayed and fell backward onto the rock. Lin Qingluan turned around, raised the longsword, and with a gleaming slash, plunged it into the weak and powerless Leng Shuangcheng's chest once more.

Leng Shuangcheng mustered all his strength and struck Lin Qingluan's sword with his palm. The force of the palm pulled at his chest, and the wound gushed blood like a burst dam.

With a hasty strike, she could no longer hold on; her body went limp as cotton, and she slowly closed her eyes.

The blood, scattered like spring silk threads in the evening rain, lay haphazardly on the dark stone surface, the bloodstains so thick they stained the rocks that grew from their roots.

With a whoosh, Lin Qingluan stopped moving and stood stiffly beside the rock.

Old Jin examined Leng Shuangcheng's wounds, applied pressure to stop the bleeding, and smiled smugly: "Just as Master predicted, once Lin Qingluan comes out, she will surely capture Leng Shuangcheng alive."

Amidst his busy schedule, Zhao Yingcheng turned around and was shocked to see Leng Shuangcheng lying on his back, having been struck by Lin Qingluan's sword.

He was terrified and roared, "Come here, a group of men, follow me and we'll fight our way up the cliff!"

With two palm strikes, Zhao Yingcheng cleaved through several blades of light, then leaped forward, flanked by several trusted men who surrounded him as he fought his way through.

Old Jin lifted Leng Shuangcheng by the waist and looked towards the clearing on the cliff, preparing to send a message to retreat.

In the distance, a gleaming white figure tore through the dark, dense forest, approaching with lightning speed. Black hair billowed back like a bolt of satin, and clothes billowed like a ball of white snow. Autumn leaves, like swords, flashed with murderous intent, carrying the momentum of wind, clouds, thunder, and lightning.

Deeper into the dense forest, thunder roared and the sound of horses' hooves shook the heavens and the earth.

Old Jin saw it clearly and was so shocked that he didn't have time to call out. He grabbed Lin Qingluan with one hand and lifted Leng Shuangcheng with the other, then jumped off the cliff.

The roaring waves swallowed the three figures in an instant.

In a flash, Qiu Ye Yi Jian pierced through the night, stealthily approaching from the dense forest, which was several dozen feet high. With a leap, she landed in front of Zhao Yingcheng with a thud, like a bullet soaring into the sky. Zhao Yingcheng was about to call out when a white shadow flashed by, and Qiu Ye Yi Jian was already back on the cliff.

The white robes fluttered like snow-capped peaks and icy blades, falling heavily. The figure stood firm, facing the waves.

Zhao Yingcheng was startled and rushed towards the cliff. Sure enough, Qiu Yeyi turned back to check the bloodstains on the ground, then coldly plunged into the sea! Zhao Yingcheng shouted and, together with his followers, held her tightly.

Jagged rocks pierce the sky, and a thousand piles of snow feathers screech.

Qiu Yeyi's eyes were bloodshot, and her sorrowful voice echoed through the heavens: "Leng Shuangcheng!"

The night was deep, and the lights of thousands of homes shone brightly, but the Qingzhou headquarters was eerily quiet.

Time seemed to stand still, and no one dared to make a sound. Especially after everyone learned that Prince Qiuye had single-handedly killed ninety assassins and that Leng Shuangcheng could not be found in the sea, even the wind seemed to stop moving.

Everyone fell silent, staring at the two young masters in the center of the main hall.

Qiu Yeyi stood in the hall, his white robes stained with blood, leaning against his sword. The glaringly bright red blood dripped down his pale, slender fingers, each drop a crisp, clear sound.

His face was eerily beautiful, with large, plum-shaped red spots scattered across it, leaving no trace of clarity on his once fair and handsome face. He stood silently for a long time, when suddenly his chilling, bone-chilling voice rang out: "Zhao Yingcheng."

Zhao Yingcheng, pale-faced, coughed, pressing his chest, and said, "Speak."

"Tell me in detail what happened."

Zhao Yingcheng dismissed everyone and clearly explained the entire incident.

Upon hearing this, Qiu Yeyi swayed like a bamboo in the wind, her face contorted with rage as she gathered her strength and slashed forward: "Beast! How dare you abandon me like this!"

Zhao Yingcheng's eyelids twitched violently. Looking at the ravine-strewn ground, he hesitated and said, "Your Highness, please calm down... Is there something fishy going on?"

Qiu Yeyi glanced at him coldly, her voice icy: "You'll be heading to Beizhou tomorrow morning. You don't need to worry about this." With that, she walked towards the door, her sleeves billowing in the wind. As she reached the gate, she turned back and said coldly, "Keep an eye on Yang Wan. Don't let her cause any more trouble."

Zhao Yingcheng sighed and lowered his eyes.

Yang Wan stayed in the side courtyard. The servants reported that she would not open the door to anyone except Leng Shuangcheng, and would remain silent inside.

That night, all was quiet, a thin mist swirled around, and the ancient mansion under the moonlight appeared simple and serene.

Zhao Yingcheng sat by the window, his eyes as blank and unfocused as the cool moonlight, staring intently at the flowers and trees in the courtyard.

Yang Wan was right next door to him; the two were so close, yet felt worlds apart.

In the depths of the night, the moonlight is hazy, the shadows of the trees are shimmering, fireflies twinkle, and a single candle shines, creating a beautiful and tranquil scene like a painting.

He recalled that night in Qinglong Town, when Yang Wan protected him, opened a small window, and the two of them quietly gazed at the night outside the courtyard, relaxed and natural like a deeply affectionate couple.

But what happened later was irreversible.

However, tomorrow will bring a different fate.

Looking back, the chill in his heart was as intense as the moon reflected in the courtyard.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and a long shadow silently passed by on the corridor. Zhao Yingcheng was startled and held his breath.

The person who came was dressed in a white moon-colored robe, with his black hair loose. He walked through the cool, misty air, draped in a soft, moonlit veil, and silently turned around in front of the window.

It was a clean, silent oval face.

Her eyes were lowered and brimming with tears, her lips were gentle, and her face was shrouded in a soft, warm light, making her look as ethereal as willow branches and wisps of smoke.

Zhao Yingcheng reached out and rushed to the window frame, clinging tightly to it, and whispered a hoarse cry: "Yang Wan..." His eyes reddened and quickly became wet.

"Yang Wan, Yang Wan..." he called out repeatedly in a low voice, his handsome face trembling uncontrollably.

Yang Wan raised her eyes, took a step back, and said calmly, "Young Master Zhao, this is my last look before we part. I hope you take care."

The wind swayed the flowers and trees in front of the courtyard. Yang Wan silently turned around and walked into the misty moonlight, never looking back.

Zhao Yingcheng watched her retreating figure and closed his eyes in anguish.

The moon hangs high in the sky, silently observing the joys and sorrows of humanity. Beneath the moonlit courtyard, two figures drift further and further apart…