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“My Lord!” A ghost in black and red robes throws himself at the feet of the Master of Ghost Valley. He is afraid to raise his eyes and tries not to move a muscle. Messengers bearing such news are usually killed. “The Manor of Four Seasons has burned to the ground, My Lord.”
“What?” Wen Kexing springs to his feet.He takes a half-step toward the servant but stops himself by sheer force of will. Fear lances through his heart like a cold needle, and the instincts honed by years in Ghost Valley scream for blood. To feel fear is to be in danger. To feel fear is to be a victim. And Wen Kexing is no victim. Not anymore.
“My Lord, not a single body was found on the manor grounds. The secret chamber is empty.”
“Where are the disciples?” Wen Kexing barks, his shout making the servant shrink even further into the floor.
The servant has no answer, and that is the most terrifying thing of all. For both of them.
“Master!” Another ghost comes rushing through the open doors and drops to his knees with a thud next to his unfortunate comrade. “My Lord, the Seventh Lord and shaman Wu Xi have departed south. They are traveling on horseback, non-stop. Messengers have been sent to all the inns along their route. They are ordered to prepare supplies and fresh horses. My Lord, the eighteen disciples of the Manor of Four Seasons are with them.”
“Valley Master!”
A third visitor appears just as suddenly and swiftly as the first two. Wen Kexing hasn't had time to even process what he’s heard, let alone give an order. There are now three ghosts kneeling before him, one of them so diligent he’s about to drill a hole in the floor with his forehead. He’s even breathing with difficulty. Along with the road dust, the servant brought with him the distinct smell of blood.
“Zhao Jing is dead,” the ghost almost spits out the report, then, in the stunned silence, starts speaking faster, his words tumbling over each other. “Killed in his own bed, veins and tendons slashed. Bled out. The Scorpion King’s body was found beside him on the floor. Throat slit. Clean. Fast.”
Astonishingly, the servant is capable of speaking even faster. Noticing the movement of a hanfu hem near his face, he rushes to tell everything before the Valley Master’s wrath descends upon his head. Perhaps some of this news will soften his master’s reaction.
“The guards and all inhabitants of the palace were drugged. The same compound was used three more times. Tonight, the leaders of three schools from the Five Lakes Alliance were kidnapped and taken to an unknown location. They returned by morning. On their own. No visible injuries. They did not send for a physician. From fragments of conversation, it can be concluded that,” the ghost swallowed, “that the key to the Armory is lost forever. It must be that all or part of the Glazed Armor plate has been destroyed.”
“Must. Be,” Wen Kexing grinds out through his teeth, fighting the shock.
“Master, this unworthy one begs for your patience! There is still time before the Heroes’ Conference! By noon we will know for sure!”
Wen Kexing doesn’t understand what is happening. Watching the revenge plot he built so long and carefully crumble before his eyes, he struggles to maintain an expression of cold indifference on his face. A mask of anger would be more appropriate, but that thought is frankly too late. The fact is, he has no idea what to do next. For the first time in his life, he is so astonished he is at a loss for words. The pause drags on, his thoughts racing back and forth, seemingly hiding in the corners. A fourth servant, who has slipped silently into the room through the window, saves the Valley Master from potential embarrassment.
The man prostrates himself, nearly knocking over a chair. The news he has come to deliver will surely cost him and his entire squad their lives. His face isn’t covered by a mask, but it’s so white with fear that Kexing’s heart skips a beat. An elite spy, his guard—a unit whose existence no one in the Valley knows about. Wen Kexing sent them to protect the most precious person he had. The servant raises his head and, looking into the eyes of his own death, forces out the fateful words:
“Lord Zhou is missing.”
His mind refuses to process what he’s heard. His ears plug, a spasm constricts his throat. His pulse beats in rhythm with a single thought: “A-Xu! A-Xu! A-Xu!” There is nothing else in his head, just the name and the fear. Time lurches forward in fits and starts. From the moment the ghost handed him the pouch with the seven nails, Wen Kexing ceased to exist for this world.
His eyes, out of habit, continue to register the surroundings. The servants on the floor await instructions. By the door, Shen Guanyu stands frozen like a mournful statue. Chengling’s voice sounds like it’s coming from the bottom of a well. Chengling? What is he doing here? Wen Kexing waves him off. He has no time for Chengling. He is learning to breathe again.
Chengling speaks without pause, but only isolated words, devoid of meaning, reach Wen Kexing: “letter,” “save,” “doesn’t know.” The disciple’s eyes are red from crying. His thin, wounded fingers clutch the sleeves of his hanfu. The wounds need tending to. Chengling doesn’t take care of himself at all. A-Xu will be displeased.
A-Xu… A-Xu? Missing he said? Not dead. What if..?
Wen Kexing slowly comes back to himself. More than anything in the world, he hates not understanding, and this plays a decisive role in fighting the panic attack. Without this trait, he wouldn’t have survived in the Valley. Without it, he is nobody. Scattered details form a complete picture, creating a sequence. The Valley Master’s logic is as insane as he is, but that’s precisely why he draws the right conclusions. After learning of his soulmate’s death, Zhou Zishu must have clearly gone mad, setting out for revenge and mustering all his strength for it.
Every key point of Wen Kexing’s plan had been accounted for and refined, and in such a way that Kexing feels ashamed of his own striving for excessive theatricality. Zhou Zishu acted quickly, precisely, and efficiently. And judging by the fact that the events happened almost simultaneously, the former leader of Tian Chuang still had many connections and debtors. Admiration for his soulmate finally pushes the fear out of his chest.
A-Xu is incredible!
During ten years of service, the leader of Tian Chuang became a peerless assassin, capable of carrying out any order, but his priority was always his people. Losing them one after another, so quickly and so irrevocably, he was slowly dying inside. His soul was encased in ice. He could easily have staged a coup in the country. If he had wanted to. But he simply hadn’t the desire. So, after driving the cursed nails into his body, he still wore a mask, hiding from his past. No one would have let him go with the knowledge and skills he possessed. The Prince must have seen the emptiness and the approaching madness in his subordinate’s gaze. Zhou Zishu could no longer lead Tian Chuang. His lack of purpose made him more dangerous than a double-edged sword. And his unwillingness to live made him unpredictable.
The Master of Ghost Valley feels like an ant in a giant’s garden. An oddly exhilarating thought. As if all his intrigues and grand schemes were just child’s play, something A-Xu watched from the sidelines with fond amusement. It was as if he had allowed Wen Kexing to learn by playing different roles. And Kexing played his part too well. But now, for some reason, he believes everything will be alright. A ghastly smile stretches his lips. Zhou Zishu will live! — Wen Kexing decides and believes it with all his heart. If the two of them tackle this together, they will surely find a cure. And no more lies! Never again!
The Lord of Ghosts is ready to act. But fate has not yet exhausted its supply of surprises for the day. Ye Baiyi bursts into the room. Although, given the number of people already crammed into the more-than-modest bedroom, it would be more accurate to say Ye Baiyi squeezes his way in. The Immortal Master creates so much noise it gives Kexing a headache.
“Wen Kexing! I promised you I’d save Zhou Zishu. And I always keep my promises! So here.” A book goes flying toward the Master of Ghost Valley. “And here!” The unconscious body of Zhou Zishu drops to the floor like a sack of radishes. “And learn to use your words already! Like little children, I swear!”