"Well, after examining him for so long, have you discovered anything the rest of us missed?" Xu Xiaoyang asked with a cold scoff.
Qian Chen said softly, "Hero Liang was renowned as 'Breath Swallowing the Crimson Clouds,' and his skill in Qi Refining was second to none. Whenever he struck, his true qi rolled out like crimson mist, wielding extraordinary power. He also had the divine weapon Rosy Clouds Pellet. The sole virtue of this divine weapon was to thicken true qi. Thanks to that, and combined with Hero Liang's already profound inner strength, his protective gang qi was formidable indeed, even among our ranks."
"Which is precisely why Hero Liang felt safe leaving his back unguarded before the killer."
"Thus, for the killer to succeed in a single blow, the weapon they used must have been exceptionally powerful, and it must have possessed the ability to pierce gang qi."
"In other words... the killer's divine weapon is a sharp blade capable of piercing gang qi?" Eminent Monk Kongming chimed in. "If so, finding the culprit will be much simpler!"
"Indeed!" Daoist Wanshi agreed. "We need only screen out everyone whose whereabouts were unaccounted for at the time Hero Liang was killed, and then determine whether their divine weapon has the power to pierce gang qi. I believe very few people will meet both criteria."
"I'll go first!" Kang Qiandeng spoke up at once. "Just now, Brother Qian, Brother Fang, and I..." He named each of the heroes who had accompanied him to stop Suo Sanguan, and continued, "We went together to the rear courtyard to intercept and kill the enemy. Therefore, these heroes are certainly innocent. We can vouch for one another."
At this, several others who had gone along to intercept Suo Sanguan also spoke up: "That's right! We can vouch for each other."
Chan Master Kongming said, "Daoist Wanshi, Hero Xu, Hero Tang, Heroine Shen, and I... we remained in the Five Lakes Hall to provide support, and none of us left during that time." Chan Master Kongming named several individuals as well, and each confirmed that they had kept an eye on one another; indeed, not a single person had slipped away.
Du Zihuai, the Cyan Blood and Loyal Heart Sword, spoke: "Hero Liang Dou, Chief Escort Zhao of the Changfeng Escort Agency, Old Hero Li, and I went east together to confront the enemy. Along the way, we were lured away by a band of mysterious figures and ended up separated. Thus, we have no witnesses, nor can we vouch for one another."
"Those people were likely the corpse ghouls raised by the Netherworld Palace—perhaps even the famed Ghosts of the Netherworld Pit."
"The Tiger of the Twelve Yuan Chen—the Ghost-Devouring Lord—is not just one man!"
"It seems the Netherworld Palace is the Ghost-Devouring Lord... or rather, the Netherworld Palace Master is the Ghost-Devouring Lord, and the other corpse ghouls and the Ghosts of the Netherworld Pit are merely ghost thralls under his command!" Eminent Monk Kongming remarked.
Others also reported their whereabouts, and quite a few among them were unaccounted for.
Following Huang Yuhan's death, the intelligence operations of the Four Seas Hall had gradually crumbled. They could no longer maintain effective surveillance within their own halls, leaving everything in disarray.
Yet after careful analysis, everyone realized that most people simply lacked the strength to pose a threat to Liang Dou. The only ones capable of successfully ambushing him were those in his group: Du Zihuai, the Cyan Blood and Loyal Heart Sword; Zhao Cheng, chief escort of the Changfeng Escort Agency; and Li Qianqiu, the Statesman-General Elder. Having tallied everyone, Chan Master Kongming looked up and said, "The Straight-Talking Brothers and the Elder of Eight Cripples have not yet returned..."
Hardly had the words left Chan Master Kongming's mouth when the Eight Cripples Beggar came stumbling into the hall, drenched in blood.
He managed only a single sentence: "Dragon Head... Dragon Head is here! The Straight-Talking Brothers died in mere moves! I was no match for him either... Dragon Head... Dragon Head..." Before he could finish, he collapsed into unconsciousness.
Hong Sihai and Chan Master Kongming were struck with horror.
They had barely risen to their feet when countless ghostly shadows flickered outside the hall. A moment later, two blood-smeared human heads were flung inside. Chan Master Kongming leaned down to pick them up, and examining them closely, found that the gore-stained heads were none other than the Straight-Talking Brothers. Old tears streamed down his face, and he tightened his grip on his nine-ringed monk's staff!
Upon hearing the Eight Cripples Beggar's words, the assembled heroes had still clung to a sliver of hope.
Now, seeing the two brothers' heads with their own eyes, they knew that these two heroes—sharp-tongued and prone to causing offense, yet blessed with the warmest hearts in the realm—had truly returned with nothing more than their heads.
Though the brothers had possessed loose tongues and offended many, they had always been eager for justice and devoted to public good. Whenever a friend in the jianghu, a total stranger, a servant woman on the street, or a village chieftain in the fields came to them for help, they had never spared any effort to lend a hand. Thus, while they had offended many, those who remembered their kindness were far more numerous.
Even those who had once been deeply slighted by them remembered only their goodness now.
"Eldest Master Tang! Eldest Master Tang is dead too!"
The crowd abruptly erupted. Hong Sihai turned back in fury, only to see Eldest Master Tang, the most outstanding scion of the Tang Sect's younger generation, sitting quietly on his couch, wholly unresponsive to the commotion around him.
Chan Master Kongming stepped forward to feel for his breath, only to find that he had already passed. His body was stone cold!
Yet because Eldest Master Tang specialized in hidden weapons and poisons, people feared him and seldom drew near. On the surface, he bore no wounds whatsoever, having died in utter silence. Thus, only now had his death been discovered.
Earlier, someone had noticed that while excitement ran high throughout the Five Lakes Hall, Eldest Master Tang sat motionless. Only when two calls went unanswered did they sense something amiss.
"Eldest Master Tang was the finest of the Tang Sect's younger generation. Who could possibly kill him without a sound?" Kang Qiandeng said in disbelief. "Was it a man or a ghost who killed him?"
"Eldest Master Tang died without a trace, and with no outward wounds. Could it be the Spirit of Longevity, the Mist-Riding Lord..."
"Eldest Master Tang was the most skilled in medicine and poison among us. If even he could be poisoned to death without a sound by the Mist-Riding Lord, who among us can hope to escape?"
An invisible terror spread through the crowd of heroes. Many broke into cold sweats, scared half out of their wits.
"Eldest Master Tang was known as 'A Thousand Hands and A Thousand Eyes'... His thousand eyes could scrutinize all directions. Years ago, when the Eight-Armed Divine Ape committed crimes in the Heavenly Prefecture, Eldest Master Tang cornered him. In the span of a single breath, the Eight-Armed Divine Ape hurled thirteen gold coin darts, nine throwing knives, three flying locust stones, twenty-four heart-drilling nails, one hundred and eighty-six ox-hair needles, and his personal secret weapon, the Soul-Reaping Heartbreak Arrow. Yet Eldest Master Tang caught every last one of them..."
"And when the Great River Thirteen Linked Strongholds plundered a shipment of herbs belonging to the Tang family, Eldest Master Tang stormed right to their doorsteps. Across all thirteen strongholds, more than nine thousand men, women, and children were left vomiting, purging, and too drained of strength to lift a finger. In the end, it was only when the chief overlord of the greenwood personally visited the Tang family to plead for mercy that he spared them."
"Only after those two feats was Eldest Master Tang hailed as the leader of the Tang family's younger generation, earning the glorious title of 'A Thousand Hands and A Thousand Eyes'... A thousand eyes to spot any hidden weapon, a thousand hands to poison all eight directions." Kang Qiandeng explained this to Qian Chen, his voice unable to conceal the profound shock in his heart. "No matter who fell to an ambush, it should never have been Eldest Master Tang!"
"Could it be..."
Murmurs of speculation rippled through the hall, and any lingering sense of security vanished entirely.
Seeing so many people looking lost and disheartened, terrified beyond reason by the Twelve Yuan Chen's methods and thoroughly drained of their will to fight, Hong Sihai had no choice but to roar, "Everyone!"
"Yuhan was assassinated inside a heavily guarded mourning hall; Hero Liang was ambushed by a scoundrel; Tang Zhen died by invisible means; and the Straight-Talking Brothers have met tragic deaths as well. Add to that the blood feud for my sworn brother Bi Tiantong... the debt of blood for the four Sha brothers, and for all the Four Seas Hall disciples... score by score, I will settle every single one with the Twelve Yuan Chen!" Hong Sihai unwound the bandage wrapped around his right fist.
"Yet I know no fear!" Hong Sihai proclaimed. "A real man faces nothing more than death. What is so difficult about dying? It is the living who have it hard, for they must seek vengeance—for the dead!"
"Vengeance!" the surviving disciples of the Four Seas Hall roared in unison.
Clearly, they were fully resolved to fight to the death!
Chan Master Kongming raised his monk's staff, his face setting into the resolute fury of a guardian deity. Pressing his palms together in prayer, he murmured, "Lord Buddha, forgive your disciple the sin of slaughter. For hell is empty, and the evil ghosts walk among men. Your disciple's cultivation is shallow, incapable of delivering these evil ghosts and demon lords. All I can do is send them back to hell!"
"Namo Victorious Fighting Buddha!"
As the Buddhist chant faded, Chan Master Kongming glanced slightly to the side, only to see dismay written across the faces of most heroes behind him. By now, the main hall held not only Grandmasters, but also many ordinary figures of the jianghu who had come for the birthday feast and fled here for shelter. Chan Master Kongming spotted a warrior known as the Iron Fist of Guanxi cowering in the farthest corner with his two disciples, trembling from head to toe, utterly terrified by the fleeting ghostly figures outside the hall doors.
Expecting these people to risk their lives was far too much to ask; one could only hope they wouldn't surrender outright just to save their skins.
Fortunately, most of the Grandmasters still had the courage to fight. Yet they could no longer trust one another enough to turn their backs! Chan Master Kongming sighed inward: *In the end, the heroes of the martial world have become nothing more than a tray of loose sand!*
Just then, Chan Master Kongming caught sight of a figure that took him by surprise. That disciple of the Medicine King was quietly folding his umbrella, and even fastening a red gourd onto it... Did he think it was about to rain so he could open his umbrella and head home, or was he packing his bags to leave?
Chan Master Kongming hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. He felt a sudden urge to seize the young man, shake some sense into him, and tell him that when the Twelve Yuan Chen did their work, they left not even chickens and dogs alive!
*Better to conserve what little strength I have. When the desperate fight comes, at least I can splatter their blood along with my own!*
Kang Qiandeng looked at Qian Chen, who calmly stowed the umbrella behind his back. Remembering how Qian Chen had effortlessly dispatched the Gladiatorial God-Lord, the suffocating pressure he felt before the impending battle dispersed considerably.
*Brother Qian truly hides his depth well!*
*I have heard that before great battles, supreme swordsmen often observe the ritual of revering the sword to calm their minds. Some lay the long blade across their knees and lose themselves in thought; some polish their swords day after day, honing both the steel in their hands and the blade in their hearts; others burn incense before their swords, or sleep with the sword beneath their heads... Now Brother Qian folds his umbrella before battle; this umbrella is his divine weapon.*
*No doubt this shares the very same subtle purpose as revering the sword!*
Chapter 22