Chapter Twenty-Seven: Riding the Azure Luan into Carefree Departure, Sowing the Seeds of Winter Garments as a Clue

Under the shroud of night, two ghastly-faced puppets stood deathly still in the warehouse courtyard. Hua Banxia and Qi Jingmo watched them warily; the art of puppetry was far too sinister—who could say if, in the next instant, they might not spring forth in attack.

The fifteenth day of the eighth month, thirteenth year of Jian’an’s reign. Tian Si Warehouse on Shiliu Lane.

At the hour of the Boar.

Second Sister Qin shed her coquettish smile and gazed solemnly at Jiang Wanyi. “Come, let me see the might of the Grand Zhou Suppressor of Demons.”

“As you wish.” Jiang Wanyi slowly drew her longsword, her eyes cool as she looked upon Qin Erjie.

Second Sister Qin recalled her two puppets, letting them stand guard before her, poised to strike.

Jiang Wanyi flicked her sword; a cold gleam burst forth along its edge, and for a moment, the killing intent outshone even the moonlight.

Without moving, Jiang Wanyi swept her sword in an arc, sending a razor-sharp wave of sword energy straight at Qin Erjie.

One puppet braced itself and took the blow head-on; with a crash, it was hurled against the warehouse wall. When it staggered upright, a sword mark over three inches deep marred its chest.

“What incredible sword energy!” Second Sister Qin gasped, her eyes now filled with dread as she looked at Jiang Wanyi.

It was not only Qin Erjie; the onlookers—Star-Chaser Qi Jingmo and Smoke-Hand Hua Banxia—were both astonished.

They had always known that the powers of a warlock and a martial artist were incomparable, but—

But this gap was simply too vast!

With just one strike, Qin Erjie knew at once she was outmatched.

Her only hope for victory lay in exploiting her puppets’ ghostly speed, assailing Jiang Wanyi from both sides and forcing her into a desperate defense, seeking a narrow chance for triumph.

Her mind made up, Qin Erjie covertly commanded her two ghastly puppets.

One puppet flew up into the air, while the other lunged at Jiang Wanyi on the ground with uncanny speed.

Jiang Wanyi watched the puppets coming at her from above and below, yet remained unruffled. She wielded her sword, channeling energy into it.

In an instant, hundreds of sword auras enveloped her, forming a barrier. The puppets, unable to close in, were already slashed with numerous invisible wounds.

Qin Erjie hurriedly called her puppets back, but their movements slowed—the damage was apparent.

“This ends now.” Sword in hand, Jiang Wanyi stood tall, her voice cold.

She called out in a clear voice, “The sword is no ordinary iron. Through the hand it gains spirit, through the heart it moves, by blood it lives, by evil thought it dies—art of sword control!”

At her first move, she unleashed the art of sword control.

The longsword soared into the air, murderous intent gathering from all directions. Jiang Wanyi formed a sword seal with her fingers, pointing at Qin Erjie from afar.

The sword slashed toward Qin Erjie; one puppet leapt up to block, but the blade, sharp as an axe through wood, cleaved it in two and pressed on toward Qin Erjie herself.

With her puppet art broken, Qin Erjie suffered a backlash. Blood spurted from her lips and she was left paralyzed, eyes shut in despair as the sword aura closed in.

In that split second, a black-clad figure appeared before her. With a flick of his sleeve, the fierce sword energy was dispelled.

“Zige!” Second Sister Qin recognized that familiar presence. Opening her eyes, she saw Mi Zige gazing at her with deep affection.

“So powerful!” Jiang Wanyi retrieved her sword, regarding the newcomer with wariness.

“Who are you?” Jiang Wanyi leveled her sword at Mi Zige, her voice grave.

“The dead have no need to know my name,” Mi Zige replied in a low, murderous tone.

“How bold!” Jiang Wanyi spat, angered.

The threat emanating from Mi Zige was palpable. Not daring to be careless, Jiang Wanyi unleashed her deadliest technique.

She gathered all her vital energy into her sword and called out, “Wondrous is the Way, mighty is the Way. Heaven attains unity and is pure; earth attains unity and is tranquil; gods attain unity and are spirited; valleys attain unity and are full; all things attain unity and live—Ten Thousand Swords Art!”

Her sword leapt into the sky, transforming into a hundred formless blades. The oppressive force was so great that Hua Banxia, Qi Jingmo, and Qin Erjie all paled.

Yet Mi Zige’s expression remained unchanged. He looked at Jiang Wanyi coldly.

“If ever you summon ten thousand tangible sword auras, you may indeed be able to keep me here. But for now, you are still too weak.”

“Break!” With a wicked smile, Mi Zige pointed at the sword in the air. All the sword energy Jiang Wanyi had conjured was instantly shattered.

“What?” Jiang Wanyi’s eyes widened in disbelief. The rebound from her broken technique threw her inner energy into chaos, and blood welled at the corner of her mouth.

“It is finished here. Let us depart as exiles,” Mi Zige said, turning to wrap his arm around Qin Erjie’s waist. She leaned against his shoulder, gentle as water.

The strange bird, owl-like with a white head, suddenly grew enormous. Mi Zige and Qin Erjie stepped onto its back and soared freely out of Jian’an.

“Qingluan!” Jiang Wanyi watched as the monstrous bird vanished into the sky, shock overtaking her for the first time.

“How are you?” Smoke-Hand Hua Banxia stepped forward to steady Jiang Wanyi.

“Don’t worry about me—find Su Jin,” Jiang Wanyi forced herself upright and headed into the warehouse.

Inside Tian Si Warehouse, in the central wooden crate, Su Jin still lay unconscious.

“Thank heavens, at last we’ve found her,” Qi Jingmo exclaimed in delight.

Yet both Hua Banxia and Jiang Wanyi’s expressions turned grim.

For Su Jin, breathing steadily in the crate, bore strange icy blue markings on the right half of her face…

…

The night blazed with lanterns, trees adorned with silver flowers, and ten thousand brilliant lights streaming like clouds.

On this festival night in Jian’an, the bells of Dayuan Temple rang throughout the city. The people climbed to high places to pray for blessings, and lotus lanterns floated down the rivers.

At midnight, within the Six Gates Inner Hall.

Divine Marshal Zhuge Changqing sat in silence, brows furrowed. Opposite him, the military governor of the northern frontier, Ma Sihu, wore a grim expression.

“The Frostcoat Gu has been planted in Ajin’s body?” Ma Sihu’s voice was devoid of emotion.

With a pale, delicate face, Jiang Wanyi replied weakly, “Master, do not worry. The Suppressor of Demons Bureau has many skilled in the ways of Gu. The curse will be lifted.”

Ma Sihu said nothing. After a long silence, he spoke in a low voice, “Enough. I want this matter to end here.”

With that, he swept out of the room.

After a long, heavy silence, Divine Marshal Zhuge Changqing finally spoke. “From this day, no one is to mention the Turks, especially—” He paused, his tone hardening, “especially Su Jin.”

…

“Is there any way to cure the Gu?” Ma Sihu gazed sorrowfully at the unconscious Su Jin lying on the bed. The icy blue markings on her right cheek cut through the border governor’s heart like a blade.

In Jian’an’s capital, the famed physician Lin Yunyi shook his head. “The Gu poison afflicting your daughter is strange and insidious. Ordinary acupuncture and herbal decoctions are useless. What is worse, she will suffer spells of sleep far deeper and longer than most, and in the end, her meridians may freeze entirely.”

“Is there no other way?” Ma Sihu felt as though his heart were being carved apart.

Lin Yunyi shook his head again. “There was a chance to try shamanic medicine, but I hear the only doctor in the city versed in such arts, Imperial Physician Zhang Shanshi, fell to his death drunk.”

Ma Sihu’s face turned ashen. Forcing himself to remain upright, he escorted the divine physician Lin Yunyi to the door.

…

Sunlight poured over the Spirit Terrace, clouds parted above Pearl Mountain, and heaven and earth were suffused with righteousness.

From the southern city came the clang of copper gongs. Song Moqi, Jian’an’s sole master of shamanic arts, opened the door of Mortuary Room Seven. A shaft of sunlight instantly pierced the chamber.