Sueños Florales en la Ciudad

Capítulo 160

They were all ordinary, poor farming families, but even the house in the very center of the village, which was the best-built, showed no signs of being robbed.

Moreover, the eighty-six people were killed using seven different methods. Each method was fatal, simple and professional, swift and effective, yet utterly unremarkable.

Martial artists, when killing or engaging in combat, will naturally use their most familiar techniques, which a knowledgeable person can recognize at a glance. However, these simplest methods of killing will never reveal the assassin's identity—is this intentional?

Why would so many ruthless killers massacre this seemingly ordinary little village? And why would they not even spare the elderly, children, and women?

"The Sky Over the Martial World is Clear" Part One: "The Sky Over the Martial World is Clear" Part Two (1)

Although he was on his way. Although these people had no connection to him—just fifteen minutes ago, he didn't even know this place or these poor people existed.

But he couldn't ignore these ordinary villagers who had been brutally murdered.

The fire grew larger and larger. Before dawn, the village, the remains, and the bloodshed would be completely consumed by the flames, and all the injustices and traces of the murder would be burned away.

The maple leaves, a snowy hue, plunged back into the fire.

While he was busy rescuing people, he quickly surveyed the scene. Although he found no clues, he was unwilling to give up.

The fire snakes lunged at him, but he waved his hand with a strong wind to drive away the flames. Even amidst the scorching flames, his white robes still fluttered gracefully.

There is still nothing.

The person who committed this case was ruthless and skillful, leaving no loopholes.

Now, he only has one clue, which is not a clue at all—the seven different methods of murder.

Feng Xuese swiftly dodged a collapsed roof beam and was already outside the circle of fire.

Then he heard a very low sound, like an insect's unintentional flapping of its wings, or like a suppressed sob.

Feng Xuese's body suddenly spun around, like a feather being blown by the night wind, and she had already swept past.

The night was deep, and the bright moon in the sky was shrouded in a faint, almost imperceptible haze. The desolate mountains and wilderness were utterly silent and cold.

To the east, fifty feet away, is a sunny slope covered with tall, lush grass.

That choked sob came from the bushes.

"Come out!" Feng Xuese's voice was as cold as ice.

There was no sound from the grass, as if it had just been the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves.

Feng Xuese, however, did not believe he had misheard. He coldly said again, "Come out!"

There was still no sound.

A murderous glint appeared in his eyes. He paused for a moment, then slid forward several feet and gently swung his sheathed sword.

A person suddenly sprang out of the bushes, but before he could do anything, a sheathed sword was already pressed against the man's back.

It was just a child, not quite grown up, small and thin, with tattered clothes.

So he was just a poor kid! Was he being beaten and scolded by his parents, hiding here alone and feeling wronged?

Feng Xuese slowly sheathed her longsword: "You've been hiding here all this time?"

The child looked at him in terror, his body trembling as if he had a seizure, wanting to cry but not daring to.

"You saw everything that happened in that village?"

The child nodded frantically, his eyes filled with even greater terror.

Feng Xuese said gently, "Don't be afraid, tell me what you see!" Her deep eyes held a warm, compassionate gaze.

The child stared blankly at him, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Feng Xuese sighed inwardly. After all, he was still just a child. He must have been terrified to see such a massacre of a village.

This child is the only survivor, and the blame for this bloodshed will fall on him.

Moonlight shone through thin wisps of clouds onto the child's face.

That filthy face underwent a strange transformation. First, blood slowly trickled down from his eyes. Then, bloodstains appeared on his nose, mouth, and ears. After that, blood seeped from almost every pore on his face.

Thick blood, pale blood, eerie blood.

The child felt an itch on his face and, somewhat bewildered, raised his hand to wipe it. Just as he was staring blankly at the piece of skin stuck to his hand, "pop!" the skin on his finger burst open, and then it exploded inch by inch from the fingertip upwards.

Feng Xuese's expression changed slightly.

It's poison! And a very potent poison!

With a swift movement of his left hand, his five fingers moved like plucking a pipa, tapping across the child's body. Then, he tore open a white robe, wrapped it around the blood-soaked child, and with a flick of his wrist, floated away from the grass.

The fire in the village is still burning, but most of the combustibles have been burned away, and the fire has died down. Before dawn, the village will be a white wasteland, and all the evil will be gone.

The Sky Over the Martial World is Clear - Part One: The Sky Over the Martial World is Clear - Chapter Two (2)

"Now I recall the joys of Jiangnan, when I was young and wore light spring clothes. I rode a horse and leaned against a bridge, surrounded by red sleeves beckoning me from every building. The emerald screen and golden curtains were winding, and I drunkenly slept among the flowers. Now that I see the flowering branches again, I vow never to return, even when my hair turns white."

Wei Zhuang's song "Bodhisattva's Charm" cannot fully express the countless songs, dances, and youthful romances of Jiangnan.

In March, when the flowers are in full bloom, the Jiangnan region is a time of lush grass, flying birds, and chirping swallows.

In Qingyang City, located on the banks of the Liuhua River, the grass is lush and green, the willow branches sway gently, the flowers are fragrant and vibrant, and the spring breeze is enchanting.

Liuhua River was the residence of the most prestigious families in Qingyang City. Countless gilded pavilions and carved beams lined both banks, while countless painted boats glided on the water, their oars creaking gently. Brothels stood side by side, taverns lined the streets, the air was filled with the sounds of silk and bamboo instruments, fine wine and singing, beautiful women playing, wealthy merchants gathering, and scholars converging – a scene of great prosperity and splendor.