Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword, Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Petition

So they were not here to snatch bones after all, but to take his life.

Yun Que could not simply endure that. If they wanted goods, that was one thing; if they wanted his life, that was absolutely out of the question.

He studied the man carefully, but still found him wholly unfamiliar.

He was certain he had never seen him before.

Judging from his clothing, though, he should have been a disciple of the Sword Palace.

Yun Que’s first thought was that perhaps he was one of Mu Qingyao’s suitors, but on second thought that did not seem quite right.

The man’s voice was filled with killing intent; he did not sound like a jealous rival.

Yun Que did not know him, but the young woman seated beside him did.

“Chu Hu, the chief sword prodigy of the Western Court. Outwardly, he is said to be at the ninth level of Qi Refinement, but some people whisper that he has already reached full perfection. He is a direct descendant of Chu Chen, an elder of the Western Court. He has an older brother named Chu Long, the Western Court’s senior disciple. The two of them are notoriously domineering, and no one in the Sword Palace dares to provoke them.”

After hearing Han Jiao’s quiet introduction, Yun Que understood at once.

So he was one of the Chu family. No wonder he was bristling with murderous hostility. It seemed he had already learned of the deaths of Chu Heng and his son in Yanmen Town.

Yun Que had never thought he could avoid the feud with the Chu family. Since the other side had begun to target him, a direct clash was surely not far off.

Feigning ignorance, Yun Que asked Chu Hu, “I wonder what offense I have given you to make you hate this marquis so much? My life is worth a great deal of money. Let us discuss it. Better to turn blades into silk than make things bloody.”

“There is nothing to discuss!” Chu Hu said coldly. “You killed a member of my Chu family. You must pay with your life!”

“I am, after all, a proper marquis. Give me a little face, will you?” Yun Que said, spreading his hands.

“Even if you were the Emperor of Heaven himself, you would not escape death. I will kill you for sure!” Chu Hu snorted.

“You really are something,” Yun Que said. “Can we be reasonable? Since you insist on a life for a life, fine. Then let me settle the account with you.”

He asked the maids on either side of the auction hall for paper and brush, and as he wrote swiftly, he spoke at the same time.

“Chu Heng colluded with demons in Yanmen Town. He abducted more than a hundred young girls from the surrounding villages and towns, handed them over to the demons for their pleasure, and afterward had them tortured to death. I killed Chu Heng and his son to rid the people of a scourge. One hundred lives, minus two…”

He paused mid-stroke.

Yun Que lifted his gaze and shot a glance at Chu Hu. His voice turned icy.

“Your Chu family still owes ninety-eight lives. Tell me, when do you intend to repay them?”

Yun Que was writing while speaking, and his cold rebuke had already drawn many eyes.

The shopkeeper, Yu Qingfu, temporarily halted the auction.

He had seen all sorts of bizarre scenes at his auctions before. There had been fights, there had been thefts followed by flight, and even murders carried out on the spot. But he had never before seen someone use an auction to settle scores.

In the great hall, hundreds of gazes turned toward Yun Que and Chu Hu.

“You are spouting nonsense!” Chu Hu roared, eyes wide.

“I am a cultivation family, born from generations of experts! How could we possibly commit such vile acts as colluding with demons and slaughtering the innocent? I think you are the one who murdered those villagers—the demon!”

“You’re taking one example and pretending it proves everything,” Yun Que said with a laugh, then pointed at him and began to scold him without mercy. “That is sophistry. What, because people from cultivation families are all good men?”

“By your logic, are the girls in brothels born loving to sleep with men? Are beggars on the street born destined to beg? Are prisoners in the dungeon all beyond trial and deserving of death? And do the river turtles in their previous lives all have four claws?”

His voice rose with every line. By the end, it rang with fierce authority, and Chu Hu’s momentum was crushed flat. He stood there stunned, unable to retort.

On the raised wooden platform, Yu Qingfu listened with amused interest and cast Yun Que a meaningful glance.

The meaning behind those words was very clear. Each line answered the phrase “cultivation family” from the sentence before it: brothels, beggars, prisoners, turtles—nothing but words of contempt.

He was simply belittling so-called cultivation families across the board.

“Do turtles not have four claws in their previous lives too?” Luo Xiaoyu glanced at Chu Hu, who had been left dumbstruck by the insults, and muttered softly, “Such a big fellow, and so stupid.”

Before Chu Hu could recover, Yun Que’s expression changed. The aura of a superior suddenly surged outward, and he snapped coldly, “When Chu Heng committed his crimes, not only did I witness it with my own eyes, but the Han family of Yanmen Town can testify as well!”

“Piles of white bones in the demon’s dwelling, plus the young girls taken from the surrounding villages and towns. Witnesses and evidence alike are overwhelming. His crimes were unforgivable!”

“And you, as a man of a cultivation family, dare to shield an inhuman criminal? By what law do you do so?”

With a crack, Yun Que slapped the table and stood, lifting the white paper in his hand.

“You think I was writing what? This is the complaint I am filing against your Chu family!”

On the page were listed the crimes Chu Heng and his son had committed in Yanmen Town, the characters powerful and forceful, as though they would tear through the paper.

Chu Hu was once again suppressed by Yun Que’s bearing. He narrowed his eyes but had no words left to answer.

The very fact that Yun Que dared to write such a complaint showed that something in their Chu family branch in Yanmen Town truly had gone wrong. Though he wanted vengeance for his kinsmen, he could no longer use the language of “a life for a life.” The vile words he had spoken earlier now all landed back on his own face.

Yun Que smiled faintly, his tone cool and detached.

“You strike first and file the accusation later. I have not even had time to settle accounts with you, and yet you have the shamelessness to come looking for me first. Hah. It seems your insight into the way of the sword is quite impressive. What a low creature you are.”

The word for low could also be read as the word for sword, though which was intended could not be said.

But everyone present understood exactly what Yun Que was calling him. Many covered their mouths and snickered, applauding the Marquis of Coldwater for his rare ability to curse people without uttering a single vulgar word.

Especially Yu Qingfu, who nodded to himself and looked at Yun Que with fresh respect.

He was particularly impressed by the complaint in Yun Que’s hand.

As a talisman master, he was deeply versed in the art of making talismans, and calligraphy demanded the same kind of force of brushstroke. Yu Qingfu could naturally see that Yun Que possessed an exceptionally high level of mastery in the art of writing. The characters on the page were almost alive.

After folding the complaint and putting it away, Yun Que slowly sat back down.

Who was he?

The Marquis of Coldwater, who had spent his childhood hurling abuse at an entire town, was nothing if not a master of cursing. In that regard alone, Yun Que was on the level of a grandmaster.

Forget one Chu Hu—even if the entire Chu family came at him together, they would still be no match.

Chu Hu had intended to pressure Yun Que and raise the Chu family’s morale, but instead he had not only lost face at the auction, he had nearly dragged the family’s honor into the mud.

Forcing down his rage, he glared at Yun Que and said viciously, “You’d best not take part in the Sword Prodigy Contest, or else I’ll teach you what it means to die with no burial place at all!”

“What a coincidence! I was just planning to go and see for myself. I hope your abilities match your temper, and do not disappoint me too much.”

“Rest assured, I certainly won’t disappoint you!”

With a snort, Chu Hu sat back down and turned his attention to the wooden platform.

The farce seemed to be over, but Chu Hu could not swallow the humiliation. He intended to make sure Yun Que left this auction empty-handed, unable to buy a single thing.

And that was exactly what he did next.

No matter what Yun Que took interest in, Chu Hu would immediately bid double and snatch it away, leaving him no chance whatsoever.

As a direct descendant of a cultivation family, with the support of a golden core elder from the Sword Palace behind him, Chu Hu possessed more spirit stones than many foundation-stage cultivators. Spending several hundred stones did not even make him blink.

Yun Que remained entirely unconcerned. Now and then, when he saw something interesting, he would casually make a bid, only to abandon it at once when Chu Hu raised the price.

Not long after, the auction neared its end.

At that point, someone brought out a special magical artifact shaped like a teacup. It was called the Deepwater Lamp, a device designed for walking beneath the water’s surface. It could descend to depths of several dozen zhang, a rare item indeed among water-avoidance artifacts, and its starting price was two hundred spirit stones.

Yun Que had already had one water-avoidance artifact snatched away by Chu Hu earlier. The moment he saw the Deepwater Lamp, his eyes lit up, and he leaned forward at once, clearly very interested.

Chu Hu had been watching every move of his all along. He sneered inwardly, intent on suppressing Yun Que once more and taking the item for himself.

The instant the starting price for the Deepwater Lamp appeared, Yun Que called out, “One thousand!”

“Two thousand!”

Chu Hu nearly doubled it without even thinking, then suddenly froze.

He turned to look at Yun Que.

There, Yun Que was smiling with open pity, mocking him as though he were a fool.