Chapter 9#
If You See SnowCh9 - He’s Been Hidden Away#
On the other side, Sang Chiyu stared at the silent communication compass, not speaking for a long while.
“Young Master Sang, are you ready?” Not far ahead, a man opened a deep blue vortex, “This is my secret art—the Formless Gate. One may travel through the vast world via this gate. My cultivation is still shallow, so the farthest I can connect is three hundred li. It’s sufficient for reaching the Underworld. Once you step through this gate, you become one of the Underworld’s people. What do you say? Do you still wish to reconsider?”
Sang Chiyu didn’t answer, only asking: “How long will it take to transmit the scriptures? Can we finish before dawn tomorrow?”
“Young Master may leave at any time. This visit is just to familiarize you with our Great Compassion Temple. Does the young master have other matters to attend to?”
“Mn.”
Sang Chiyu tucked away his compass and stepped into the vortex. Before his eyes, the world shifted dramatically, revealing an utterly different landscape. He found himself in a decaying temple, the air thick with the acrid smell of charred flesh. A fiercely burning bonfire burst into view, its searing heat washing over his cheeks. Countless men and women gathered around the fire, drinking and feasting. Shirtless, they wrestled and fought. Some even rolled in the mud, lost in passion. Most were cultivators of the secret arts, their forms slightly altered. Some had vertical pupils, others spouted fur on their faces, and more had intricate patterns etched into their skin.
Along the dilapidated red walls were numerous sculptures of the Laughing Buddha sitting or lying down. Each statue was engaging in copulation with a delicate consort nestled in their embrace. Colorful lanterns spun around, casting hazy, eerie illusions across the Buddha’s face.
Those who cannot walk in the sun gathered here. The Underworld was a haven for vagrants, murderers, and scum. Some of these people enter the Great Compassion Temple to become monks, where they are given secret drugs and granted the power to face the world under the sun.
At the very front of the temple hall stood a strange black statue of the Thousand-Armed Guanyin. Its densely packed arms twisted and stretched out in all directions, reminiscent of the terrifying tentacles of a sea monster. Standing atop the stone statue was a person, the master of the Great Compassion Temple, and also Sang Chiyu’s guide through the Underworld, Hei Guanyin.
The moment Sang Chiyu entered, it was as if a bucket of ice had been dumped into a boiling cauldron. The clamor instantly died down, and every pair of eyes turned toward him unblinkingly. Sang Chiyu had once been their greatest enemy. This man’s hands were stained with the blood of scum. The top hundred names on the Underworld’s most wanted list had dwindled to almost nothing, as Sang Chiyu tracked them down one by one and executed them.
Directly ahead, Hei Guanyin extended his hand toward Sang Chiyu, who walked towards him one step at a time.
These scum lined the walls, sending off this uncommunicative man, incessantly muttering by his side:
“Sang Chiyu, my older brother was killed by you. Do you still remember?”
“The woman I dearly loved died by your hand. You reaped her beautiful head.”
“Eleven years ago, when the Secret Sect was first established, you blew up my husband.”
When Sang Chiyu reached the front, Hei Guanyin grinned and said: “But we bear no grudge against you. Killing in the Underworld is not against the law. ln truth, we knew you would come to us one day. Have you noticed that though you are the orphan of a noble family and the head disciple of the Secret Sect, the blood on your hands runs far darker than ours? But rest assured, Young Master, we will not force you to do anything against your will.”
Hei Guanyin knew Sang Chiyu coming to the Underworld was a move made out of desperation. After all, the Kunlun Secret Sect was where he grew up. How could he sever ties with his friends and kin overnight? Moreover, Sang Chiyu was a man of such principle and integrity. Persuading him to enter the Underworld was already a remarkable feat. As long as he could extract information about the Kunlun Secret Sect from Sang Chiyu, Hei Guanyin would be satisfied.
“I need to ask you about someone.” Sang Chiyu opened.
“Who?” Hei Guanyin kindly asked.
A sudden commotion erupted among the crowd as a bunch of men with oil paint on their faces entered the ruins of the Great Compassion Temple. These men shouldered flintlock muskets and strode in with menacing expressions. The monks bared their teeth and hunched their backs, entering states of alertness. A man with black hair and eyes walked slowly into the ruins. He was the only one without oil paint on his face, and the only one not carrying a musket. His pure black outer robe shimmered with a luminous glow, as if moonlight itself skipped upon its surface.
After spending any length of time in the Underworld, you’ll come to know this was the organization that should not be messed with the most—the Paradise Pavilion. They have no faith, no rules, and hedonism is their only creed.
Han Ye clapped his hands and laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sang Chiyu, I never expected to see you here.”
Hei Guanyin paid him no mind, addressing only Sang Chiyu: “Who are you looking for, Young Master? Go ahead and ask.”
“No need. He’s already here.” Sang Chiyu’s gaze fell upon Han Ye.
Han Ye came to a halt beneath the Thousand-Armed Guanyin statue, facing Sang Chiyu from a distance. Han Ye spoke first: “You Secret Sect people have always looked down on us as trash and vermin. Last time your people entered the Underworld, they all wore iron masks, claiming the air here was poisonous. Taking just one breath would make your flesh rot. Since Young Master Sang has graced us with your presence, I’ve specially prepared one made of gold for you.”
He flung the object in his hand forward, and a shiny gold object rolled to Sang Chiyu’s feet. It was not a mask, but a muzzle.
Sang Chiyu stared at him, face expressionless.
Han Ye grinned maliciously, “Care to try it on? I’ve always treated your Secret Sect members with due respect. You don’t seem to believe me? Come, let Young Master Sang see his comrade.”
He clapped his hands, and subordinates from the Paradise Pavilion dragged forward a crawling man bound by golden chains. The man wore a golden muzzle identical to the one at Sang Chiyu’s feet, crawling towards him on all fours like a dog. As long as he raised his head even slightly, someone behind him immediately lashed his back with a whip. His back was already badly mangled, a sight too gruesome to bear. Sang Chiyu recognized the man. He was Li Meng, a commander of a hundred troops in the Eagle Guard with the secret arts of Shadow Walking. They served in the same bureau in the Secret Sect and often crossed paths.
Li Meng also spotted Sang Chiyu, and tears instantly welled up in his eyes. He cried out with unclear articulation: “Save me!”
Han Ye raised his hand, and the men from the Paradise Pavilion loosened the chains. Li Meng scrambled to his feet, dragging the clanking chains as he rushed toward Sang Chiyu, clinging desperately to his legs unwilling to let go. Han Ye chuckled darkly, “Hei Guanyin, you’re far too naive. How could Sang Chiyu ever turn against his own comrades? Do you truly expect him to be able to fight Kunlun when the Great Compassion Temple faces them in battle? I suggest you consider whether he might repay your kindness with betrayal, out of some lingering affection for the past.”
Hei Guanyin shook his head and smiled, “I trust that Young Master Sang is not such a person. The Great Compassion Temple has shown goodwill toward the young master, and he will surely not disappoint us.”
“Utterly foolish.” Han Ye’s expression cooled.
As soon as those words left his mouth, a piercing scream sounded out from behind, sending a collective chill through the crowd. Han Ye frowned. Seeing the astonished looks on these people’s faces, suspicion arose in his heart. He looked back and saw Sang Chiyu unhurriedly inserting his fingers into Li Meng’s eye sockets. The man who had clung to Sang Chiyu like a lifeline now convulsed violently like a fish out of water. Blood surged forth increasingly, flowing like snakes slithering down his face. Gradually, his strength drained away, and he fell still.
Sang Chiyu withdrew his fingers. The instant they left the man’s eye sockets, all the ice-blue meridians retracted into his fingertips, leaving no trace of its peculiarity for anyone to notice. He turned his face, his emotionless eyes meeting Han Ye’s astonished gaze. Only then did Han Ye realize Sang Chiyu really had changed. He was no longer the Grandmaster’s head disciple who would help all those distressed in the world.
No one had expected Sang Chiyu to make a move. Even Hei Guanyin was taken aback. What astonished them even more was that Sang Chiyu not only acted, but did so with such ruthless ferocity.
“I hear murder in the Underworld is not illegal.” Sang Chiyu said.
“Not bad,” Han Ye suppressed the shock in his eyes and said, “Sang Chiyu, I never imagined…”
Before he could utter the words “You would slaughter your former comrades,” goosebumps erupted across his shoulders and back as a shadow descended upon him. Once more, he saw the stunned expressions in the crowd’s eyes, while Sang Chiyu, who had been standing far ahead, vanished without a trace. Simultaneously, an icy hand clamped down on the back of his neck.
The unexpected speed caught him off guard. Han Ye had guessed he’d taken the secret drug, but he didn’t know his secret acts. The Underworld possessed a secret register recording all information they’d gathered so far about the Kunlun Secret Sect, including the secret arts of their known masters. Sang Chiyu’s page remained blank. Though they knew he was a secret arts cultivator, despite years of confrontation between the Underworld and Sang Chiyu, they had never once heard of him using his secret arts. Unexpectedly, Sang Chiyu’s secret arts was the same as his comrade—Shadow Walking. A cold frost blossomed in Han Ye’s heart, his fingers growing numb inch by inch.
It takes him five breaths to unleash his black fire, but he was certain that Sang Chiyu could snap his neck in less than a single breath.
He was dead for sure.
However, Sang Chiyu hesitated to act, instead loosening his grip on the back of his neck.
The icy chill receded, and Han Ye’s stiffened spine relaxed slightly. He turned his head in confusion. Why hadn’t Sang Chiyu killed him? He had distinctly felt the man’s cold intent to kill. Sang Chiyu’s gaze seemed fixed on the top of his head. Han Ye touched his hair bun, where an ebony hairpin was tucked.
“Why did you not take action? Don’t expect me to thank you.” Han Ye sneered coldly.
Sang Chiyu glanced at him and brushed past him, walking toward Hei Guanyin.
This kid seemed to be even more arrogant than he is. The vein in Han Ye’s temple throbbed as he forced himself to stay calm, addressing the retreating figure: “Since you’ve decided to join the Underworld, I won’t bother you anymore. As it happens, my spy brought back some intel from the Secret Sect. I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.”
“Oh?” Hei Guanyin perked up, “I’d love to hear more.”
Han Ye waved his hand, and the members of the Paradise Pavilion withdrew to the outskirts. Hei Guanyin nodded in agreement, and the monks of the Great Compassion Temple slowly retreated. In the vast ruins, only the core members of the two organizations remained. Sang Chiyu, uninterested in their conversation, also wanted to leave, but Hei Guanyin asked him to stay.
Han Ye’s lips curved slightly as he lowered his voice: “Su Ruhui isn’t dead. My person saw it with their own eyes. The Kunlun Secret Sect has hidden him away.”
Sang Chiyu paused slightly, his calm, still eyes turning to look at Han Ye.
The author has something to say:
Now we know why Sang Chiyu went to the Underworld. To kill Han Ye.
TL corner: xs5X4L
Sang Chiyu: Han Ye is bothering my husband, I must kill him, then come back in time for breakfast tomorrow.
Also Sang Chiyu: Han Ye is wearing a hairpin from Su Ruhui… What does this mean.