Chapter 53: Who Are You, Sir?

Qing Luo-Hand Gao Fan and the Iron Swordsman Zhuo Xianfei had long been retainers of the Ying clan of Qinzhou, even before the collapse of the Great Zhou. In recent years, with the Ying family supplanting the Zhou as the ruling power, the status and treatment of these two had undergone a dramatic transformation. Though no longer possessing the prestige they enjoyed during the zenith of the Zhou dynasty, they nevertheless controlled the resources of the realm in name. Their titles as retainers were likewise elevated, becoming official attendants to the new imperial household. Alongside this preferential treatment came the duty of serving as the vanguard in the pursuit of the Ji clan’s surviving bloodline.

Seven days prior, Left Qianqiu—the foremost expert of the Attendant Hall—had brought them and twenty Black-Clad Guards to Tianyun Mountain. There, atop Misty Peak, they slew the reclusive former Zhou general, Yan Fengluo. Six of the Black-Clad Guards fell in the assault. Before departing, Left Qianqiu commanded them to lie in ambush along the only route through Misty Peak, to await the grievously wounded Lü Shengyang and the Ji clan’s young heir. They believed that if Lü Shengyang dared flee in this direction, he would never return. Unexpectedly, the old fox outwitted them, and another five Black-Clad Guards were lost.

Had it ended there, the pair would have been merely frustrated, but the mission itself would not have been in jeopardy. Though Lü Shengyang’s Pure Yang Qi Technique was formidable, he had not yet attained the innate stage, and a month prior in Shengjing, he had suffered a palm strike from Left Qianqiu that nearly cost him his life. How far could he possibly run? Besides, a trick that worked once would not fool them again, and such a rare hidden weapon as the Iron Pear Blossom was not something one could produce at will. They doubted Lü the Old Fox had a second one up his sleeve.

Yet, an unforeseen event occurred during the pursuit. Suddenly, a stirring, heroic song resounded from a towering, unnamed peak. Lü Shengyang, already out of sight but with tracks still visible, had clearly changed course toward the source. Saviors appearing by the roadside to aid the Ji clan’s remnants was a scene they had witnessed too often these past years. In such circumstances, for someone to sing such a song at such a place, with a voice that shook the mountains and kept birds from alighting for a long while—what strength and spirit must the singer possess! Were it not for their mission, Gao Fan and Zhuo Xianfei would have wished to make the acquaintance of such a person.

But now, both men sighed inwardly, certain that another formidable foe had arisen. Bound by duty, they dared not retreat; at the very least, they must show themselves, and so, steeling their resolve, they gave chase.

…

Wu You, Lü Shengyang, and Ji Haoxuan remained silent, gazing down the mountain. Before long, a large group ascended to the summit—eleven in all. At their head were two men: one, a middle-aged scholar in blue robes with refined features; the other, clad in white martial attire, cradling an iron sword. Behind them followed nine guards in black soft armor.

…

Wu You’s gaze swept back and forth between the two parties now assembled, his mind awhirl with confusion. What is this situation? How awkward. Should I say I’m just passing by?

It was Qing Luo-Hand Gao Fan who broke the silence first. “Might I ask your esteemed name and sect, sir? These two are wanted criminals of the court. I hope you will not bring trouble upon yourself.”

His words were both a probe for Wu You’s origins and a display of strength.

“Hmph, ‘wanted criminals of the court’—what a fine accusation,” Lü Shengyang interjected before Wu You could reply. “A band of rebels usurps the throne, plunges the world into chaos, and dares call itself the rightful authority!”

He then turned to Wu You: “Just now, hearing your bold song, I knew you were a hero with justice in your heart. At this point, there’s no need for me to conceal anything. I am Lü Shengyang, once an imperial attendant of the Great Zhou’s Attendant Hall.”

Placing a hand on Ji Haoxuan’s shoulder, he continued, “This child is Ji Haoxuan, direct descendant of the Zhou imperial line. I beg you, sir, to aid us in righteousness. I pledge to repay your kindness with my life!”

With that, Lü Shengyang knelt before Wu You, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this left his back completely exposed to Gao Fan and Zhuo Xianfei at his side.

Seeing the elderly man kneel, Wu You was caught off guard, wanting to help him up but finding the distance too great.

“Elder, what are you doing?”

Zhuo Xianfei exchanged a glance with Gao Fan—a perfect opportunity! Lü Shengyang had turned his side and was making a supplicant gesture. No matter how skilled the young man before them was, he would need a moment to react. Gao Fan’s moniker, Qing Luo-Hand, was not only for his fondness for blue robes but also for his mastery of hidden weapons. If both Lü Shengyang and Ji Haoxuan died, the youth would likely not risk his life for the court.

…

Gao Fan’s arms trembled ever so slightly as he released a flurry of hidden weapons from the concealed pockets in his sleeves, his wrists snapping with explosive force. With a flick of his long sleeves, a storm of steel darts, poisoned and arranged in a plum blossom pattern, shot toward Lü Shengyang and Ji Haoxuan.

…

Lü Shengyang was gambling—with his life and the boy’s. In any world where morality was not wholly lost, the plight of an old man and a child would usually evoke sympathy. And indeed—

Wu You, seeing the blue-robed scholar resort to treachery, acted on instinct to intervene. In his current state, empowered by demonic divine energy, his senses and perceptions far exceeded the human norm. To Gao Fan and Zhuo Xianfei, he seemed too distant to intervene in time; they even allowed themselves a faint, triumphant smile.

…

Did they think he was powerless? With a mere thought, sparks of electricity danced along the steel darts. Light flared around his right hand.

With a ringing “ding, ding, ding…,” all the darts were snatched midair by a powerful electromagnetic pull, landing in Wu You’s right hand, which closed around them in a single grasp.

…

Gao Fan, Zhuo Xianfei, the Black-Clad Guards behind them, and even Lü Shengyang and Ji Haoxuan—all stared at Wu You’s hand in shock.

Telekinetic retrieval!

Lü Shengyang had considered that Wu You might draw his sword to intercept, unleash a palm blast, counter with his own hidden weapon, or perhaps not react in time, forcing Lü to shield Ji Haoxuan with his body. He had also contemplated the possibility that Wu You would stand by and do nothing.

But never had he imagined that Wu You would simply pluck Gao Fan’s flying darts out of thin air!

He had hoped to encounter a righteous innate master willing to intervene; he had not expected to find himself before a grandmaster.

…

Cold sweat trickled down the cheeks of Gao Fan and Zhuo Xianfei. The Black-Clad Guards dared not so much as twitch.

Telekinetic retrieval was a rare skill, a mark of supreme inner power, mastered by fewer than twenty people in the world, each a pivotal figure in the great powers of the land. This was not the era of turmoil a decade or more past, when masters from every faction appeared and top-level duels were not uncommon. The world had been at peace for years. For such an enigmatic figure to emerge now was truly astonishing.

Moreover, they had heard of telekinetically retrieving still objects—never intercepting flying hidden weapons.

Since he had intervened, he had taken responsibility for the matter. What now? To fight or to retreat?

Though Left Qianqiu had departed seven days before, he had not returned to Shengjing but had gone to train nearby, unwilling to wait idly. The distance was neither too great nor too near—if they sent a signal now, could they hold out until Left Qianqiu arrived?

For a moment, Gao Fan and Zhuo Xianfei wavered, torn between heaven and earth.