Chapter Eighty-Seven: Vengeance Permits Twenty to Die, Yet the Slaying of Wuyang Is Beyond Reckoning

For the sake of vengeance, men may die; the butcher from Dancing Sun need not count.

The bandits around him seemed to have gone mad. They lifted their blades and hacked at Han Mo Yi with all their strength, yet all of it was futile. He recovered far too quickly, and no matter how many strikes landed, not even a single white mark remained upon him.

The bald man was the first to drop to his knees. Then the rest followed, trembling on the ground, begging for their lives, just as the people they had slain in the Han residence had once begged before them.

Han Mo Yi cast a cold glance at the kneeling bandits. There was not the slightest ripple in his eyes, as though he were looking at a pile of lifeless corpses.

The Evil Blade Immortal gripped his sword so tightly that the knuckles whitened, wanting to kill the bald man where he knelt, but he knew such struggle was useless.

Step by step, Han Mo Yi approached him. The hand holding the blade had begun to shake faintly. That was not the reaction of a proper swordsman, yet terror had already closed its claws around his heart.

At last, in unwilling fury, the Evil Blade Immortal slashed again and again at Han Mo Yi. One blow, then another, and another, until his whole body was exhausted and drained dry, until he could no longer hold the sword. Only then did he look fearfully at the man before him.

“You are not human. You are not human!” The Evil Blade Immortal staggered back several steps and finally collapsed to the ground. Han Mo Yi stood before him, gazing down like a deity.

“Don’t kill me. Please, don’t kill me.” At last the Evil Blade Immortal fell to his knees, begging piteously like a dog.

“Blade, come,” Han Mo Yi replied in a cold voice.

The strange blade flew through the air and landed in his hand.

“No, no, you can’t kill me. I’ll tell you a secret, a secret of great importance!” The Evil Blade Immortal finally smelled death and shouted with all his might.

Before his words had even faded, Han Mo Yi’s blade had already fallen. The bearded head rolled across the ground and came to rest, its face frozen in the same disbelief as those of Han Kongnian and Mu Yuan.

“You deserve death.” Han Mo Yi did not sheath his blade. Instead, he turned to the bandits still kneeling on the ground and said in a chill voice, “And you deserve it too.”

Seeing that he had severed the Evil Blade Immortal’s head without the slightest mercy and then spoken such words, the bandits instantly scattered in all directions.

Just as they were about to flee from Azure Falcon Fortress, a strange, mocking voice reached Han Mo Yi’s ears.

“Kid, remember this: you owe me one.”

The words came from within the strange blade.

As soon as the voice fell, a mass of black mist shrouded Azure Falcon Fortress. Within it appeared demonic soldiers two or three meters tall, their bodies wreathed in dark qi, each with a pair of sharp horns upon his head. In their hands they carried great black sabers, and these blocked every fleeing bandit.

Han Mo Yi said nothing. He simply kept cutting down one after another, until the ground was strewn with corpses, until not a single living soul remained. Only then did he finally stop.

The black mist gradually receded, and with it the demonic soldiers vanished. Han Mo Yi did not know what sort of being dwelled within the strange blade, nor did he care to ponder it. The recent chain of events had left even his nerves numb.

After some thought, Han Mo Yi walked toward the main hall of Azure Falcon Fortress.

The moment he stepped inside, a piercing woman’s scream rang out. Only then did Han Mo Yi realize that the clothes he had been wearing had been burned away in the fire, and with blood from the killings still upon him, he must have looked utterly dreadful.

“Shut up.” His cold command made the painted women immediately cover their mouths, their eyes full of fear.

After a moment, Han Mo Yi continued, “Fetch me some hot water. I want to bathe.”

Seeing that he meant no harm, the women slowly calmed. Soon someone brought in a basin of hot water.

Seeing that the painted women had no intention of leaving, Han Mo Yi said in disgust, “I’m not going to kill you. Get out.”

They were instantly granted a reprieve and fled outside. Only then did Han Mo Yi begin to clean himself.

After washing away the blood and ashes, he finally realized the most awkward truth of all: his clothes had been reduced to ashes by the fire, and he had just now forgotten to tell the women to find him something suitable to wear.

Fortunately, the bandits in Azure Falcon Fortress had been killed to the last, and the painted women had already been sent away. Since no one was around, he might as well find a garment in one of the rooms and make do.

Having made up his mind, Han Mo Yi headed toward the inner chambers of the fortress. On the way he did not encounter the painted women, which eased his mind.

Crossing the courtyard, he found that the doors of the rooms inside all had locks hanging from them. Luckily, the locks were merely hung there and not secured. Han Mo Yi removed one, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

Then something happened he had not in the least expected. The moment he entered the room and lifted his eyes, he saw a young woman seated in a chair, one hand braced on a wooden table and the other wiping tears from her face.

Han Mo Yi turned to flee, but it was clearly too late. The young woman had already looked his way. Their eyes met, and Han Mo Yi was so embarrassed he wished a hole would open in the ground and swallow him.

“Aah!” the young woman shrieked.

Han Mo Yi spun and ran out, or rather, fled.

Fortunately, though flustered and humiliated, he was still rather lucky. Soon he found several acceptable pieces of clothing in a cabinet in the neighboring room. He hastily dressed himself and finally managed to steady his heart.

He hesitated for a long time, or perhaps it only seemed long to him. Just as he was preparing to rise and leave, a woman’s scream suddenly came from outside.

Han Mo Yi heard it clearly. The woman screaming was none other than the same one who had been locked in that room by the bandits.

Without a second thought, he ran outside. He had assumed there were still surviving bandits, but when he emerged, he realized the reason for the woman’s scream was not that at all, but the hell on earth he himself had created.

Across the entire fortress, countless bandits lay sprawled in disarray. Their blood had turned the yellow sand beneath them crimson. The sharpness of the strange blade, together with Han Mo Yi’s berserk fury, had left the corpses almost wholly mangled; severed limbs were everywhere, and the air itself reeked of blood and death.

The woman from the room stood among those corpses, staring fixedly downward. Han Mo Yi followed her gaze and could not help shivering. Beneath her feet was nothing else but the head of the Evil Blade Immortal, severed by his own hand.

The Evil Blade Immortal’s eyes were still bulging wide. No wonder the woman had screamed in terror. Even Han Mo Yi, who had himself cut off the head of this enemy with whom he bore a blood-deep grudge, now that he had calmed down and looked upon that tyrant, felt a chill in his heart.

Seeing the woman so frightened she had gone blank, Han Mo Yi sighed. “Sigh. I really do owe you.”

With that, he walked toward her. She seemed not to notice him coming.

“Hey?” Han Mo Yi had barely spoken when the woman glanced back at him, rolled her eyes, and fainted on the spot.

“Sigh. It seems I truly must have owed you something in a past life.” Han Mo Yi lifted her into his arms, carried her back to the room she had occupied before, and laid her on the bed. Only then did he get a clear look at her.

She wore a plain white dress, but even that could not conceal her slender, graceful figure. Her long hair had been carelessly pinned up with a single peach-wood hairpin. Her features were delicate and beautiful, unadorned by powder or rouge, while her lovely face had gone deathly pale with fear, making her all the more pitiable.

Looking at the woman lying on the bed with her brows faintly knit, Han Mo Yi could not help speculating about her identity. Though he did not wish to think in dark or malicious ways, memories of the revolting painted women before him, and of Fang Wanru, who had transformed into a female Yaksha, made him look at the woman in white with a trace of unmistakable revulsion.

How long had passed, he did not know. Fortunately there was still a pot of fine tea on the table in the room, and he idled away the time by drinking it. Outside, the setting sun had begun stretching the shadows of the old tree in the courtyard. Its light inched little by little across the floor from beneath Han Mo Yi’s feet toward the doorway, until at last the room itself began to dim.

Finally, the woman in white awoke.

“You’re awake?” Han Mo Yi did not turn around. He simply set down the teacup in his hand and spoke.

After a long while, he heard the woman answer with a sound so faint it was almost like the hum of a gnat.

“What relation are you to the Evil Blade Immortal?” After another long silence, Han Mo Yi finally asked the question he most needed answered.

He closed his eyes. He was somewhat afraid of hearing her reply, because he did not know what he would do after receiving certain answers.

“The Evil Blade Immortal? Do you mean that bandit chief?” The woman in white still spoke softly, with a trace of timidity, though Han Mo Yi could sense that she had begun to lower her guard.

“Yes. The Evil Blade Immortal is the bandit chief I cut down.”

Han Mo Yi’s voice was cold, and he did not spare a thought for her feelings.

The woman drew a sharp breath, stepped down from the bed, came to stand behind him, and asked in a low voice, “You killed him?”

Han Mo Yi’s heart tightened, but he still nodded.

“Thank you. You saved me.” With that, the woman in white gave him a respectful bow.

Only then did Han Mo Yi turn to look at her. “I saved you?”

A shadow fell across the woman’s face. She seemed to have recalled some dreadful memory. Han Mo Yi did not press her. After a while, she slowly told the whole story from beginning to end.

Clutching her hands tightly, the woman in white said softly, “My name is Ma Ruoxue. Three days ago, by my father’s command, I was traveling with the old retainer of our household to Sand Desert Three-Banner Town to offer congratulations on the marriage alliance between the Han family and the Fang family. I never expected to be captured by this band of bandits, and the old retainer lost his life as well.”

After a pause, Ma Ruoxue went on, “It must already have been three days. The Han and Fang families must have long since finished the wedding. I’m afraid I arrived too late.”

“The Han family, the Fang family... heh.” Han Mo Yi gave a cold laugh. Then a flicker of sorrow passed through his eyes. “I’m afraid there is no longer any Han family or Fang family in this world. No more Three-Banner Town either.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ma Ruoxue was clearly startled by his sudden words and could not help asking.

Han Mo Yi closed his eyes. A tear slid from the corner of his eye. Then, word by word, he said, “I am Han Mo Yi.”