Chapter Sixty-Five: Captured

Inside the cabin of the Sandbird Tower Ship, the air was thick with the stench of burning, the charred black waterlogged timbers, and the faint yet unmistakable scent of blood. All these signs made it clear that, unlike its formidable, menacing exterior, the heart of this colossal vessel had already been thoroughly infiltrated and compromised.

“Brother Mo, Elder Lou, are you implying that someone in my ranks has betrayed me?” Wu Zhang’s expression darkened, not only because of the recent fire, but even more so because of the “facts” the two had just laid out before him.

“That’s impossible! The risks at sea are beyond your Central Plains folks’ imagination. If traitors or turncoats sprang up so easily, the Dragon King’s banner would have long since fallen from the West Sea!”

“It may not be a matter of loyalty,” Lou Yuxiao explained patiently. “Perhaps the man was controlled by someone else? The truth of what happened in the fifth room on the right, third level, will be clear when we see it for ourselves.”

“Hmph!” Wu Zhang shot them a glance and descended the steps, clearly intent on getting to the bottom of things.

“Commander Wu, the enemy is still in the shadows, while we’re exposed. They may not know yet whether the assassination succeeded. This is a rare chance—please proceed with caution,” Lou Yuxiao reminded him.

The cramped confines of the ship forced the towering Mo Shaoguan to stoop as he moved. Most of the White Dragon Bandits were patrolling other parts of the vessel. Lives lost and the threat of fire had put these hardened men on edge, so very few remained in the lower decks. Those present withdrew at Wu Zhang’s signal.

“If things are as you say, try not to cause too much commotion. We’re in a ship, and it can’t take much more,” Wu Zhang muttered, hesitating before finally voicing his concern.

“Don’t worry, we’re hardly at home in the water,” Lou Yuxiao replied with a nod.

They pried open the heavy cabin door. The man inside, saying nothing, snatched up a dagger and charged.

With a furious roar, Mo Shaocong swept his thick-backed iron blade in a perilous arc, smashing it down on the assailant. The man was strong and fierce, but his attacks lacked discipline; and compared to Mo, who had trained his tendons and fascia, his raw strength was nothing. The iron blade bent the dagger with a clang, and the sickening crack that followed was surely his right arm breaking. A twist of the blade, and the strike turned from slash to smack—the man was slammed to the deck, rattling the ship’s timbers, quite possibly breaking several ribs.

Wu Zhang followed up with ruthless efficiency. The man’s savagery was hidden beneath his outward appearance, but Wu Zhang dislocated his jaw, severed four tendons, wrenched out his teeth, and even checked beneath his tongue—leaving nothing to chance. He was used to dealing with assassins; even death-defying zealots could be made to talk.

“He’s one of mine,” Wu Zhang said through clenched teeth. “I personally recruited this boy in Ryukyu. He’s always been loyal… I never imagined he’d turn traitor!”

Lou Yuxiao frowned. Even without considering anything else, just from his martial prowess, it was clear the man was no mastermind—just another pawn discarded. Yet another layer of darkness settled over them.

“Wait here a moment,” Wu Zhang said grimly. “I’ll make him spit out everything he knows.”

He dragged the limp, mud-like “traitor” to the innermost interrogation chamber. Soon, shrill screams and wails echoed through the ship.

Lou Yuxiao could not help but sigh. He had endured many perils before, but never had he felt so powerless. This killer seemed to exist beyond reach, toying with their nerves again and again. Anyone around them could be the murderer, yet he still had to steady the nerves of all these martial heroes. It was a bitter taste Lou Yuxiao never wished to sample again.

“Do you think he’ll reveal any clues?” Mo Shaoguan asked, hope in his voice.

“He won’t,” Lou Yuxiao shook his head. “Every move ‘he’ makes, he leaves a way out for himself. What seems like a trap at every turn is, for him, a smooth road. Besides the little clue from Xiang Feihe, what else do we really know? He could now sow distrust among us without ever showing his face. Most crucially, we must find him. Imagine if he bides his time—when we need unity most, can we trust any of our own? What would the authorities think? All these heroes, famed throughout the land, have come so far to help us—if we falter, we’ll only chill their hearts.” Lou Yuxiao sighed again.

“That makes us little more than a burden, then!” Mo Shaoguan frowned.

Lou Yuxiao was about to argue when Wu Zhang returned, his face ashen, hands dripping with blood.

“You two, come quickly. The traitor seems ready to confess.”

They hurried to the interrogation room. The traitor was scarcely human anymore—his hands and feet were a mangled mess, and, most horrifying of all, his chest was shattered, ribs splintered and torn away, the beating heart faintly visible.

“Tell us everything you know,” Wu Zhang said coldly. “You know as my subordinate that my methods can go much further than this.”

“I—they—” The traitor struggled to speak, saliva and blood mingling as they ran down his chin. “They—”

Suddenly, agony exploded from deep within his skull. “Long live the Sacred Church!” he shrieked.

His head bulged and then split with a sickening crack; brain matter burst out, splattering the floor.

“Useless!” Wu Zhang bellowed, stomping down and crushing the skull.

“This scene—” Mo Shaoguan murmured.

“It’s just like with Xiang Feihe, isn’t it?” Lou Yuxiao’s face was grave, almost pallid.

“This means the Red Lotus Sect has mastered some secret art or drug for controlling minds. We can’t afford to delay any longer, or the consequences will be unimaginable!”

“But didn’t Xiang Feihe resist it?” Mo Shaoguan asked, puzzled.

“That’s because Xiang Feihe had already reached the stage of internal organ refinement—his blood, qi, and bones were many times stronger than ordinary folk. Common poisons no longer affected him, and he had help from both me and Zhou Qian.”

“Brother Wu, compared to us martial artists, your men are more numerous and, unfortunately, more susceptible…” Lou Yuxiao’s concern was evident.

“I’ll try my best to watch them, not giving the enemy any chance,” Wu Zhang finally grasped the Red Lotus Sect’s ruthlessness. “But the longer this drags out, the more likely something will go wrong.”

“The enemy moves first and we can only react. We’re far too passive.” Lou Yuxiao was at a loss; the initiative had slipped away, and the foe remained hidden.

Leaving the cabin, Lou Yuxiao instructed Mo Shaoguan to inform Zhou Qian of what had transpired. Zhou Qian, in order to avoid alerting the killer, had not come with them, but all their efforts seemed in vain...

The next day, Zhou Qian and his companions informed the others of the incident with Xiang Feihe. To avoid alerting the mastermind and to protect Xiang Feihe’s daughter from harm, they intentionally altered the story—

“…That’s how it happened. Xiang Feihe was incited by others and attempted to assassinate Young Hero Zhou last night. Though Zhou was gravely wounded, he survived, and with the combined efforts of Mo Shaoguan and myself, we subdued Xiang Feihe. He seemed deranged, perhaps coerced, but revealed nothing. Eventually, he escaped and died by my sword,” Lou Yuxiao declared.

The assembly of martial artists showed surprise, anger, suspicion, and shock in equal measure—but with Xiang Feihe’s corpse displayed in the hall and Zhou Qian bearing three new scars, none dared speak. The hall was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

“So, Brother Zhou, the real killer was Xiang Feihe? He murdered Madame Hu and Rat?” someone asked hesitantly.

Zhou Qian sat at the head table, silent for a while before replying, “Though I was indeed attacked, I still have doubts. First, Xiang Feihe was formidable, but Madame Hu and Rat were no pushovers—how could they be killed so quietly? Second, how did Xiang Feihe become entangled with the Red Lotus Sect?”

A flurry of discussion followed, but no convincing answer emerged. After all, most martial artists were better with swords than with sleuthing. Still, many were willing to believe that Xiang Feihe was the culprit.

‘Perhaps this will lull the killer into complacency,’ Lou Yuxiao thought. He and Zhou Qian had agreed the previous night to frame Xiang Feihe as the killer, using illusion and reality to draw the true culprit out of hiding.

Zhou Qian squinted, secretly observing the crowd—especially a handful of suspects. ‘Not a single flaw,’ he thought.

After the crowd dispersed, suspicion still hovered, but everyone seemed to breathe easier. The mood lightened, and some even began to joke among themselves.

‘But if the killer strikes again, all this newfound spirit will collapse instantly,’ Lou Yuxiao sighed.

“Elder Lou.” Lao Cheng approached him and spoke in a low voice.

“What is it?” Lou Yuxiao asked, puzzled. “Didn’t you say there was no sign of the killer last night?”

“But—” Lao Cheng hesitated, “there was something unusual.”

“Unusual?” Lou Yuxiao echoed.

“You know my training lets me see in the dark as in daylight. Last night, I saw the Tang Clan uncle and nephew meeting with Wu Zhang, the Sea Dragon, and an old man on the aft deck. It lasted about a cup of tea’s time.

“Wang Hu slipped onto the third level around midnight and disappeared.

“Sun Xiaoniang went down to the first level—looked like she was heading for Wei Guang’s room.”

‘Tang Clan, Wang Hu, Sun Xiaoniang, Wang Zhi’s men—what’s the connection?’ Lou Yuxiao wondered.

“And Young Hero Zhou—”

“Zhou Qian, too?!” Lou Yuxiao was startled.

“After you and Mo Shaoguan went up on deck, I glimpsed Zhou Qian’s figure in the corridor. Or maybe I was seeing things…” Lao Cheng admitted uncertainly.

In the martial world, some trained with swords, others with fists, and some in stranger arts—heightened hearing, uncanny eyesight. Lao Cheng had trained Eagle Eye—he was never mistaken.

Truth be told, Lou Yuxiao wasn’t exactly disappointed with Zhou Qian’s conduct these past days, but the young man hadn’t shown any earth-shattering brilliance either—somewhat below expectations. Yet, over time, Lou Yuxiao sensed that Zhou Qian was far from ordinary—almost a fool hiding great wisdom. Even Lou Yuxiao, a seasoned veteran, couldn’t guess what he was thinking now.

“Who’s Zhou Qian talking to at the moment?” Lou Yuxiao gestured. Zhou Qian, smiling, was deep in conversation with a young woman.

“That’s Sun Xiaoniang,” Lao Cheng answered oddly. Everyone knew Sun Xiaoniang had recently been involved in rumors with the Tang Clan’s young master—what was Zhou Qian up to?

“What did Zhou Qian say to you?” Wei Guang demanded of Sun Xiaoniang later, clearly displeased.

“Nothing much,” Sun Xiaoniang replied, puzzled. “Just some idle tales from the martial world.”

“Hmph! He won’t be so smug for long!” Wei Guang sneered.

For several days, there were no further incidents aboard. Some even found time to admire the scenery—the undulating hills, lush ancient pines, vibrant wildflowers, birds singing in flight, all blending with the river’s song, inspiring awe at the wonders of nature.

Then, five days later, Shi Si burst into Zhou Qian’s cabin, where Zhou and Lou Yuxiao were chatting.

“We’ve found the killer!” Shi Si gasped.

“Who is it?” Both men exclaimed.

“The Beggar Sect—it’s Wang Hu!”