Chapter Sixty: The Mysterious Figure

“A Gentleman’s Divine Sword? Impossible!”
“He is the number one gentleman of the martial world!”
“Xiang Feihe, ha! At last, this hypocrite has shown his true colors.”
“How can you accuse Xiang Feihe of being the murderer based on a single sword tassel?”

In that brief moment, everyone’s eyes drifted to the fluttering white sword tassel in Qiqiao’er’s hand. They also noticed Feng Xian’er and Sun Xiaoniang’s swollen, reddened eyes. The sight of Madam Hu’s tragic end had clearly frightened them, or perhaps it had simply awakened their sympathy.

“Is Madam Hu’s body settled?” Zhou Qian took a breath and asked.
Feng Xian’er nodded, her voice pained. “I washed and dressed Sister Hu in her favorite clothes and even put on rouge. She loved beauty so much—she wouldn’t want anyone to see her ugly side, even in death.”
Zhou Qian nodded. Feng Xian’er and Madam Hu were sworn sisters; she would not lie. “Where did that sword tassel come from?”
“It was clutched tight in Sister Hu’s hand—she must have torn it off the killer’s sword in a moment of carelessness. I’ve seen this tassel before. It belonged to Xiang Feihe’s treasured Tianbao Sword. It’s—”
“You’re talking nonsense! Brother Xiang is a man of great renown and integrity, a true gentleman of our era. How could he do such a thing?!” someone suddenly bellowed. It was Iron Rod Zhao Hei, who owed Xiang Feihe his life and shared a bond of brotherhood with him.
“First, let’s find the real killer. Everything else can wait,” Zhou Qian said, fixing his gaze on Fei Yue.
“Agreed! The young master and I must also clear our names,” Fei Yue replied, narrowing his eyes with a mysterious expression.
“We can’t jump to conclusions without clear evidence. Nearly everyone on the boat—wounded or drinking—was here at the banquet on this floor. So, who’s the only one missing? Where is Xiang Feihe?” Zhou Qian enunciated each word.
“Brother Wu?” Zhou Qian gestured to Wu Zhang.
“I’ll order the crew to search the boat—every inch! As the Sea Dragon King’s men, we owe the Central Plains heroes a proper explanation!” Wu Zhang nodded, and Zhang Zhi quickly gathered the pirates. The sound of drawers opening and trunks being searched echoed through the ship.
“One more thing, Brother Wei.” Zhou Qian cupped his hands to Wei Guang, the Golden Fire Guanyin.
“What is it?” Wei Guang frowned, looking at Zhou Qian with open hostility.
“We haven’t finished our questions. May I ask where you and Elder Fei were just now?” Zhou Qian’s tone was calm, but it was clear Wei Guang harbored a strong animosity toward him.

“I was in my cabin with Uncle Fei, resting. Are you accusing us?” Wei Guang snapped coldly.
“We must allay everyone’s doubts,” Zhou Qian replied mildly. “It seemed neither you nor your uncle was injured in today’s river battle. Why not join the banquet?”
“My uncle and I had matters to discuss—no time for drinking and games.”
“Is there anyone who can vouch for you?”
“And if there isn’t?” Wei Guang challenged.
“Oh, then never mind. I trust the Tang Clan’s reputation,” Zhou Qian answered.
It was like punching into thin air. Wei Guang let out a cold snort and turned away.

The dazzling firelight cast a faint warmth, illuminating bodies but not hearts. Such a secretive act, yet met with ambush; all those heroic figures, handpicked by the elders, now at each other’s throats. There were the strange Yi Yun couple, the mysterious assassin, the arrogant and sinister Tang Clan, and the missing Xiang Feihe—the mysteries circled in Zhou Qian’s mind. The martial world was passionate, but some things and some people could chill your blood, leaving you drained. This too was part of the martial world, though seldom seen by ordinary folk.

The hall was silent and chilly. No one spoke, but their expressions spoke volumes while the fire crackled.

Zhang Zhi strode in, frustrated. “We searched everywhere! Deck, cabins, every level—he’s nowhere to be found. Did he really jump into the river and swim away? What kind of Central Plains man could swim like that?”
“Report! We found these in Mister Xiang’s room,” a pirate leader announced, bringing in a bundle and an old, elegant sword. Some of the white tassel seemed to have been torn off.
“Xiang Feihe’s Tianbao Sword?!”
“It really is Xiang Feihe?”
“A setup! It must be a setup!”

The crowd erupted in debate. Zhou Qian exchanged glances with Wang Hu, both astonished.
Zhou Qian opened the bundle—just some clothes, except for a single jade token engraved with a blood-red lotus, and a letter—
“Keep going forward. Let Madam Hu be your warning!” Eleven blood-red characters.
“The Red Lotus Cult?” Zhou Qian closed his eyes, pondering.

Hardly anyone in the martial world was unfamiliar with the infamy and methods of the number one evil cult. The hall was instantly in turmoil.
“If Xiang Feihe was a secret Red Lotus agent, then the motive is clear,” Fei Yue said suddenly. “Our operation must have been leaked, so Xiang Feihe killed as a warning to us!”
“Brother Xiang is being framed! If he really were the killer, why not seize the chance to kill Young Master Zhou, or Elder Lou? Why kill a courtesan—what would that accomplish?”
“With his skills, does he even have what it takes?” Fei Yue chuckled and fell silent.
“Enough!” Lou Yuxiao suddenly barked, glaring at Fei Yue. “The Red Lotus Cult has not yet struck, and already you’re sowing chaos among yourselves? Can’t you see this is their scheme to divide us?”

Silence fell once more. After all, everyone loathed and despised the Red Lotus Cult.
“We cannot rush to name the killer. None of us can guarantee there isn’t a traitor among us. But you are all skilled martial artists; if you stay vigilant, the murderer will find it hard to strike again. As for those gravely wounded during the river battle, I and the other uninjured heroes will take turns standing guard tonight. What say you?” Zhou Qian suggested.

The crowd found the proposal reasonable, and martial artists were typically proud and eager to prove themselves. Though Madam Hu had died, few were truly concerned—courtesans held little status, and only those close to her mourned.

That night, no one on the desert river barge could sleep. The wounded gathered on the third floor, choosing rooms as far from Madam Hu’s corpse as possible. Zhou Qian and a handful of familiar friends kept watch in the corridor, guarding against lurking threats in the darkness.

Zhou Qian did not join the others. Instead, he sat by Madam Hu’s window, lost in thought and silence. In truth, no one knew how well he and Madam Hu had known each other—nearly friends. Zhou Qian knew that behind her smoky facade, Madam Hu possessed a heart more generous than any he had met.

“So what, Young Master Zhou? Do you look down on us women who sell our bodies, think we’re shameless whores?”

“Luodu is a city of splendid flowers, but do you know the filth that lies beneath? The secret prostitutes, the half-open doors, the girls trafficked and sold, those forced into the imperial brothels—what great crimes had those girls committed to deserve such misery? The lucky ones—famous enough—can flatter martial heroes and scholars, but the rest? They are ridden by thousands, trampled by crowds. Who loves them? Who pities them? Who can they blame? Who can they hate?”

“Young Master Zhou, I don’t want to be a prostitute anymore, but what about the girls who depend on me? Outside, there are wolves, their eyes gleaming with hunger. I’m fierce enough to keep order, but if I’m gone, these girls will be devoured, body and soul. As long as I’m here, they have hope. But if I leave, who will help them survive the coming nightmare?”

“Zhou Qian, if I had been born ten years later, or you ten years earlier, maybe we could have been together. I promise I would have cherished you, made you happy. But, alas, we walk different paths…”