Chapter 35#

An Arrow Splits the Air#

Xiao Man and Wei Chuyun were not the only ones in the small room — Shi Tang was there too. She heard their exchange and immediately went wide-eyed, asking in a voice pitched between excitement and alarm: “Are the second wave of bad guys coming to kill us?”

Xiao Man looked at her and was about to explain, then noticed the table was covered in food, and paused — Yan Wushu had clearly been back; Shi Tang had just been eating the shrimp congee he’d brought.

He hadn’t expected that man to actually go and buy things, but there was no time to dwell on it now. He returned to the matter at hand: “Whether they’ll make a move against us is still unclear.”

Wei Chuyun’s brow furrowed briefly. He glanced again at Xiao Man and the food box in his hand, and something complex and intense flickered across his expression — but it was gone in an instant. When he spoke again, his tone was exactly as it had been before: “That person carried no killing intent?”

“None. They were only watching us,” Xiao Man said.

The two of them moved to the table; Shi Tang quickly shifted the bowls and dishes to make room as they set things down. Xiao Man and Wei Chuyun each took a seat on one side. Wei Chuyun turned the scene on the street over in his mind carefully and said in a low voice: “I didn’t notice anything… Could you make out that person’s cultivation realm?”

Xiao Man also thought back on it, then shook his head. “There were too many people on the street, and the awareness came so suddenly I couldn’t settle my mind enough to examine it properly. I couldn’t say for certain.”

“Most likely reconnaissance. After all, we killed a considerable number of their people when we crossed into their territory — it’s not unreasonable that the second wave would be more cautious.” Wei Chuyun’s voice was low and measured. “I’ll go tell Qu Hanxing and the others.”

He rose. Xiao Man stood at the same time. “I’ll come with you.”

“Bring the food along!” Shi Tang set down her spoon, pulled two food boxes up from under the table, and moved with quick efficiency. “I’m coming too!”

Xiao Man didn’t refuse. Shi Tang had been part of this from the start — or rather, had been pulled into it. Leaving her alone at a moment like this was no different from leaving her to face the danger by herself.

The three of them loaded the dishes from the table into the boxes, picked up the two that had just been brought back, and went together to the small courtyard behind.

The sound-silencing talisman paper from earlier was still up; Qian San, Ma Wu, and Zhao Liu were still inside. Qu Hanxing went to fetch Mo Juntian, and everyone spread the food across the table together, then steeped a fresh pot of tea.

Xiao Man told the group what he had sensed on the street. The faces around the table shifted through several expressions, and for a long stretch no one spoke.

Eventually Qu Hanxing set down his chopsticks. “Thinking it over — the inn is safe for now.”

“Why do you say that?” Qian San asked, puzzled.

Qu Hanxing smiled. “Think about it: stirring up trouble at the festival isn’t about ruining the festival itself — it’s about doing something much bigger. Everyone staying in this inn is a performance troupe from somewhere or other. If something happened to the performers, or if the inn descended into chaos, the authorities would be on high alert, and security at the festival would tighten dramatically. That would be tipping their hand before they’re ready.”

“So not only can they not let anything go wrong at the festival — they actually need it to run smoothly, to give themselves cover.”

“Fair point.” “You’re right.”

Murmurs of agreement went around the table.

Qian San added: “In that case, if anyone is worried about their safety, they could simply stay inside the inn until the festival.”

“What kind of spineless talk is that?!” Ma Wu showed no mercy, landing a smack on the back of his head. “They’re watching us in secret — and why? To silence us! They’re already coming after us, and you want to cower indoors? Obviously we pick up our swords and hit back!”

Qian San hunched his shoulders, aggrieved: “And how exactly do we do that? We don’t even know who they are. This whole city is crawling with cultivators right now — how do we tell them apart?”

“They’re keeping watch on us. We can draw them out,” Xiao Man said.

“What’s your thinking, Senior Brother Xiao?” Zhao Liu immediately turned to look at him.

“I go out alone — none of you follow, not even in secret. They won’t send anyone of a low realm; they’d risk being detected at the slightest misstep. I’ll walk a longer route, leave a few obvious openings, and see if I can smoke them out.” Xiao Man’s tone was entirely calm as he spoke. He was also ladling soup into his own bowl.

The people at the table reacted differently.

Qian San quickly asked: “And once you’ve drawn them out?”

Wei Chuyun said “no” in a tone that left no room for argument. “I won’t allow you to go alone. For one thing, it’s dangerous. For another, after everything that’s happened, you going out by yourself would look very suspicious.”

“It is odd for Mǎn-gē to go alone — I’ll go with him. My realm isn’t high, which makes me good bait.” Qu Hanxing raised his hand, then looked at Xiao Man. “And once we’ve drawn them out? You’re not planning to just kill them on the spot, are you?”

“Of course the plan is to—”

At that moment, a sword flew in through the half-open window. A voice, somewhat older in tone, traveled along the blade:

“This is the capital’s festival, which comes only once in ten years. Any disturbance would signal national instability — extremely dangerous. Beyond that, precisely because it would be national instability, the city garrison and the imperial guard would have to investigate. Do you truly intend to insert yourselves into something like this?”

Qian San, Ma Wu, and Zhao Liu all rose immediately and bowed toward the flying sword. “Senior Zhou.”

The rest of them followed, rising to their feet.

Ma Wu added: “It’s already threatening us directly. Even if we might lose our lives — even if we actually die — we should at least die knowing what we’re fighting!”

The sword’s tip dipped and rose, as though nodding. “Well said — as one would expect from disciples of Gushan. Go then. I will do my utmost to ensure your safety.”

A ripple of relief showed on everyone’s faces. “Thank you, Senior Zhou.”

With that, the sword departed. Qu Hanxing stared after it through the window, puzzled. “But didn’t we have sound-silencing talisman paper up?”

“Each small team was issued a jade pendant,” Wei Chuyun explained. “It isn’t just a way for us to contact the senior guides — the seniors can use it to check in on us as well.”

“Ah, I see,” Qu Hanxing said, and sat back down, returning to the previous topic. “Mǎn-gē, so what exactly is the plan after we draw them out…”

“Draw them out, then let them go,” Xiao Man said quietly. “Capturing them is useless. Better to turn one of them into our bait instead.”

An hour later, Qu Hanxing invented a plausible errand, and the two of them slipped out of the inn through the side entrance.

The moment they were outside, Xiao Man felt the gaze from the shadows fall on him. He said nothing to Qu Hanxing. Moving as though nothing were the matter, they returned the empty food boxes, then proceeded according to plan — unhurried, strolling along the street as if two young men were stealing a leisure break from their duties.

That gaze followed them without pause. Xiao Man sent a thread of his spirit-sense out to track it and found that this person’s position shifted constantly, making it nearly impossible to pin down exactly where they were.

And they were being extremely careful — as though they had something to be wary of.

Wary?

Had they already discovered that there were protectors concealed nearby?

Xiao Man turned this over quietly in his mind.

Qu Hanxing stopped to buy a lotus-leaf-wrapped glutinous rice chicken from a street vendor. He surveyed his surroundings with practiced casualness, then came back and murmured: “Mǎn-gē, I can’t feel anything at all?”

“Don’t worry. Keep walking,” Xiao Man said — and using his palm as a blade, made a swift motion, neatly claiming half of the glutinous rice chicken.

“If you wanted glutinous rice chicken, why didn’t you say so earlier?!” Qu Hanxing’s eyes went wide.

Xiao Man reached out again. Qu Hanxing immediately stepped back, clutching the remaining portion to his chest. At that, Xiao Man smiled faintly. “Things taken from someone else always taste a little better.”

“That’s terrible behavior!” Qu Hanxing was full of reproach. “Mǎn-gē, you’ll never find a wife acting like this!”

“I have no intention of taking a wife,” Xiao Man said at once.

At those words, Qu Hanxing forgot entirely about the glutinous rice chicken. He sidled closer, voice dropped low in careful inquiry: “Then… should I help you look for some suitable young men?”

Xiao Man: “…”

“Tall, slim, handsome, dashing — whatever you prefer, just say the word and I’ll make sure you’re satisfied!” Qu Hanxing pressed on.

Xiao Man gave his face a firm shove with one palm.

Qu Hanxing laughed and stepped aside to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with Xiao Man, peeling back the lotus leaf and taking large, cheerful bites.

The two moved along the road — stopping here, continuing there — with all the appearance of people on a purposeful shopping trip.

When they reached the crossroads, they stopped without a signal and debated which way to go first. Xiao Man said east — first to Lin’s shop, then Qian’yi Street, then west at the end; Qu Hanxing said west — first to Yongchang Rice, then Qian’yi Street, then east. Neither would concede the other’s logic was sounder. Their voices rose, drawing a small cluster of curious onlookers.

An older woman stepped forward. “Why not split up — each buy what you need, then meet on Qian’yi Street.”

Qu Hanxing thought this sounded entirely reasonable, folded his hands toward her gratefully, and thanked her several times over.

The crowd dispersed. Then — quick as the turn of a thought — Xiao Man and Qu Hanxing exchanged a glance and both bolted forward.

The move was completely without warning. The person who had been following them steadily for some time, impossible to locate precisely, had not had a moment to think — and moved by pure instinct.

Even Qu Hanxing felt it. His eyes curved up in a grin.

Xiao Man whipped his longbow out behind him and loosed an arrow at the figure that had suddenly broken into motion among the crowd.

The arrow shot through the air in a flash, and vanished.

A burst of cries erupted from within the crowd. A stall and its shelves toppled with a crash. In the chaos, a figure vaulted cleanly onto a rooftop — and disappeared.

It had all taken less time than it takes to draw a breath. Qu Hanxing had only just stopped running. He turned and asked Xiao Man: “Did you hit them?”

“I missed. It grazed their clothing,” Xiao Man said, lowering his bow arm.

“Ah…” Qu Hanxing sighed.

Xiao Man was brief: “Back.”

“What?” Qu Hanxing was stunned. But Xiao Man gave him no chance to object — grabbed him by the back of his collar and launched them both into the air on a wind-riding current.

Xiao Man’s wind-riding had long since reached a fine degree of mastery; the distance was nothing. When they were back at the inn, he said: “I put something on the arrow.”

He took out a map of the capital, bit the tip of his finger, and let a single drop of blood fall onto it.

The others were all in the room and crowded around. The drop of blood seeped into the sheepskin parchment, transformed into a small point, and began to move.

It was tracing the movements of the person who had been watching them.

“What technique is this?” Qu Hanxing asked in wonder.

Nothing more than Phoenix blood that had grazed onto that person with the arrow. Xiao Man considered for a moment, then answered: “A secret art from my clan — not passed to outsiders.”

“Could you teach it to us anyway?” Qian San rubbed his hands together hopefully.

Ma Wu rolled his eyes. “Senior Brother Xiao just said it’s not passed to outsiders!”

Outside the inn.

A figure in dark robes with silver hair hovered in the air. Wisps of cloud drifted past his face; his sleeves snapped in the wind.

“The capital is as troublesome as ever,” he said, with a hint of distaste.

Then he tilted forward and dropped lightly down onto the street below.

His position was, more or less, where the small red point on the sheepskin map in Xiao Man’s hands had come to rest.