With a dull thud, the foreman's corpse hit the ground. By then, Li Zhi—disguised as Ding Daniu—had already surged forward like an arrow before the bailiff undercover as a bookkeeper, moving fast enough to leave an afterimage.
He indulged in no flourishes. His arm swelled as he raised a fist as large as an earthen bowl and punched straight out.
Seeing the airflow torn asunder, the bailiff had no time to dodge and could only thrust his scabbarded saber before him in defense.
*Clang!*
The saber shattered, scabbard and blade snapping into several pieces. Li Zhi's fist slowed only fractionally before slamming into the bailiff's chest.
Amid the crisp snaps of fracturing ribs, the bailiff stumbled back several paces and collapsed, his breath rattling out with barely any coming back in.
Stamping his hoof-transformed feet, Li Zhi—clad in coarse brown cloth—galloped like a divine steed, trailing a black-scaled serpent's tail as he lunged toward a nearby warehouse.
*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*
Three sharp arrows whistled down from the eastern watchtower, tracing a path from where Li Zhi had stood all the way toward his destination. They pierced through wooden planks and blasted craters into the dirt, but they were a beat too slow.
Having leaped into the warehouse, Li Zhi lashed out with several kicks, bursting open multiple jars of strong liquor stored inside. Spirits gushed out wildly, filling the air with a pungent aroma.
Immediately following this, the notorious New Yu outlaw retrieved several jars of gunpowder hidden deep within the warehouse and ignited their fuses with a fire striker.
As the fuses rapidly burned down, Li Zhi sprinted toward the far side of the warehouse, turned sideways, and crashed through the wooden wall with a loud bang, rolling out just as the structure swayed violently.
*Boom! Rrrrumble!*
Explosion followed explosion, blasting off the warehouse roof and billowing thick black smoke into the sky.
Crimson flames ignited in their wake, swiftly engulfing the warehouse and leaping into the air.
The commotion immediately drew squads of patrolling bailiffs and Xiaoming Sect disciples rushing toward the docks. From the eastern watchtower, Yi Qincang drew four white-feathered arrows, nocking them all onto his bowstring simultaneously.
*Whoosh!*
The four arrows released with a single twang, each erupting into crimson light and transforming into blazing fire serpents that converged on Li Zhi from front, back, left, and right.
Li Zhi paid them no heed, charging straight ahead, his eyes reflecting a furiously blazing crimson arrow.
The arrow flew with such speed that it seemed to detonate the air. Li Zhi had no time to raise a fist to deflect it; he could only bulge the muscles in his legs, thrusting with his mutated hooves to rip out an afterimage through sheer force.
This was the divine stride method from the Secret Inscription of the Ten Deva Strengths.
The three arrows Yi Qincang had loosed to the left, right, and rear all struck empty ground. The crimson fire arrow pursuing Li Zhi pierced through the afterimage and continued forward, lunging straight for the enemy's back just as his momentum began to flag.
Li Zhi wrenched his waist and turned his torso sideways. The crimson arrow grazed across his back, leaving behind a sharp stench of burning, a deep, blackened trail of blood, and a patch of scorched horse hair.
Rolling and tumbling, Li Zhi ducked into yet another warehouse.
***
Inside Zhen Manor.
Having already arrived on the scene, Dingjiang Prefect Lin Hansheng heard the explosions from the eastern docks and saw the flames soaring into the sky.
Dark-complexioned, he remained unswayed and did not head to the docks to reinforce them. Instead, he raised his palms, which were covered in blue-black scales.
A deep, murky mist immediately diffused across the area, appearing to hold dark clouds within its folds.
A sudden wind rose, sweeping the rainstorm-brewing clouds and mist—spanning tens of paces across—swiftly toward Jiangbo Hall. In just a few breaths, it enveloped the entire pavilion.
In the eyes of Dai Shen from the Boat Overturning Sect, the clouds and mist before the impending storm appeared exceptionally ethereal. In their depths, a long creature seemed to surge forward, fading in and out of sight, making it impossible to tell which direction it would strike from next.
Lin Hansheng hailed from Yanjing's martial academy, having ascended step by step to the Dharma Realm. Currently a second-rank Ruwei grandmaster, he cultivated the *Flood Dragon Transformation Scripture*. This strike was its first form, the Cloud-Mist Transformation:
*Conceal the body within cloud and mist, leaving no trace to be found; unleash fists like a flood dragon, cascading like a mountain torrent.*
Unable to discern where Lin Hansheng's punch would strike from, how it would arrive, or what target it sought, Dai Shen brought his tiger-like claws together before his chest as if cradling an invisible sphere of water, then gave it a gentle twist.
Instantly, near-illusory hues of blood drifted out from the Zhen Manor retained experts, courtyard guards, and family disciples, as well as Su Chongxiao's attendants and Ren Youyang's guards who were slaughtering one another inside and outside Jiangbo Hall. In the blink of an eye, the bloody essence gathered between Dai Shen's palms.
The malice within their hearts dissipated along with it, and they collapsed limp to the ground, teetering on unconsciousness.
A moment later, only Zhen Qianfan remained attacking Su Chongxiao, while Lin Hansheng's cloud-mist enveloped Dai Shen.
The invisible sphere of water between Dai Shen's palms was swiftly dyed with swirls of crimson blood.
Just as Lin Hansheng's blue-black scaled fist and arm lunged from the murky mist like a leaping flood dragon, striking toward the heretical fiend's waist from an angle beyond anticipation, Dai Shen clapped his palms together.
The blood-tinted water sphere silently burst, transforming into an illusory crimson wave composed of sword strikes, fist intent, saber momentum, and staff blows. Centered on Dai Shen's body, it surged in all directions without missing an inch, successfully meeting Lin Hansheng's ethereal, untraceable punch.
*Only by gathering water can one overturn the boat!*
The clash even shattered the murky clouds and mist, exposing the "flood dragon" to the open air.
Lin Hansheng's face was horse-shaped, dotted with several blue-black scales.
***
Having launched the special fireworks, Qi Xiaoxiang—disguised as Liu Yuzao—paid Qin Nuansheng no further attention. With a tap of her toes, she deftly slipped out of Lotus Pond Courtyard.
She quickly turned into another building, ripped down draperies and fabrics, then pulled out a fire striker. With a flick and a blow, she set them all ablaze.
As flames flared up, Qi Xiaoxiang wove through the buildings, setting fires indiscriminately along the way. She turned the entirety of Zhen Manor into a living hell, with flames breaking out everywhere and smoke rising on all sides.
Servants and maids fled in panic or scrambled to douse the flames, throwing the estate into total chaos.
Whenever courtyard guards or male servants who had not gone to Jiangbo Hall ran into Qi Xiaoxiang, the woman either bypassed them with nimble footwork or drew a short sword just over a foot long. She would lightly parry the enemy's weapon with casual ease, then, before their bewildered stares, draw the blade smoothly across their throats.
The shock and incomprehension in the guards' and servants' eyes froze in death. None seemed to have imagined they would die so quickly, nor that the martial arts they had practiced until second nature would feel so alien in that moment—as if the techniques no longer belonged to them at all—riddled with fatal openings.
***
Atop the tallest watchtower.
Zheng Zhuxi looked toward the county yamen one moment and toward Zhen Manor the next, finding both places descending into utter turmoil.
Within the county yamen, the Xiaoming Sect disciples, having escaped the moth seeds, were working alongside a portion of the bailiffs to fight their former colleagues who were now moth people. Meanwhile, Qiu Chen—disguised as Ding Shengyi—was darting erratically through various rooms, keeping himself from being exposed to the watchtower's surveillance.
As for Zhen Manor, fires were breaking out everywhere, with maids and servants scurrying in all directions. Aside from the area around Jiangbo Hall, it was impossible to tell where other intruders might be or how many there were.
Seeing that Adjutant Gao and others from the prefectural yamen had arrived at the county yamen, Zheng Zhuxi breathed a sigh of relief and turned her focus back to Zhen Manor.
Noticing that her mother, Tao Wenshu, merely gazed at Zhen Manor with starlight hidden in her eyes, not even assuming a stance to draw her sword, Zheng Zhuxi asked with a touch of perplexity and concern, "Mother, why haven't you made a move yet?"
Tao Wenshu smiled faintly. "The main player has yet to take the stage."
*The main player?* Zheng Zhuxi's thoughts stirred, and she immediately coated her eyes with the dim yet warm glow of candlelight.
When she looked toward Zhen Manor again, all manner of details became remarkably clear, as though the distance between them had shrunk to within ten paces.
Zheng Zhuxi swiftly swept her gaze across the grounds and suddenly caught a fleeting figure darting through the winding corridor leading to Zhen Qianfan's residence, revealing a glimpse of scallion-white.
***
Inside the secret prison of Zhen Manor.
Seeing that Yan Changqing had fallen silent in his sea of consciousness and closed his eyes to rest, Ding Songyan could only suppress his anxiety. Splitting half his focus, he continued recounting *The Legend of the White Snake* with all seriousness.
After he narrated for a while, Yan Changqing slowly opened his eyes in his sea of consciousness and said with a smile, "It is time to make a move."
Having heard no commotion deep underground, Ding Songyan was taken aback at first, but his heart soon leaped into his throat.
Yan Changqing instructed him unhurriedly, "Divide the breath of qi I gave you into two, channel them into both palms, and strike the people on either side of you simultaneously.
"I will naturally replenish it for you later, allowing you to carry me out of Zhen Manor."
"All right." Ding Songyan promptly caused the hazy, clear 'seed' to split in two, directing each half into one of his palms.
His mind instantly unified, elevating high into the air. He sensed the auras of the two Zhen family disciples beside him, felt the presence of the cosmic qi of heaven and earth, and perceived the chaotic manifestations of clouds, mist, rain, and water churning not far away.
Ding Songyan could no longer narrate *The Legend of the White Snake* at the same time. Closing his mouth, he followed the sensed auras and violently thrust his palms toward the two Zhen family disciples.
At that exact moment, a thought suddenly struck him as wrong:
*Why am I obeying Yan Changqing so unconditionally? When he says strike, I strike; when he says kill, I kill?*
*Didn't I resolve to delay as much as possible, refuse to cooperate where I could, and wait for the authorities to arrive?*
*Zhen Manor is the enemy, the 'Ding family' is the enemy, and Yan Changqing is an enemy as well!*
It was already too late for Ding Songyan to halt the palms thrusting to his sides; he could only forcefully pull back a portion of his power.
*Bang!*
Surging torrents erupted from his palms, slamming into the two Zhen family disciples.
Both disciples were thrown backward, crashing into the walls. With only a muffled groan of pain, they went completely still.
Ding Songyan hurriedly pulled down the black cloth covering his face and saw that both Zhen disciples had been knocked unconscious.
Immediately, he turned his gaze forward.
Inside the cramped cubicle, behind a flickering oil lamp, sat a person in an armchair.
The man wore a Huayang cap and a blue scholar's robe. His features were gaunt, his temples dusted with white. It was none other than Yan Changqing.
Almost simultaneously, Ding Songyan noticed that the sleeves and lower portion of the blue robe hung entirely limp and empty, unsupported by anything beneath.
Yan Changqing had neither arms nor legs.
"Young friend, you may take out that dagger now," Yan Changqing's voice echoed in Ding Songyan's sea of consciousness.
His eyes possessed both black pupils and white sclera, yet the black seemed endowed with an uncanny pull, drawing the gaze exclusively to it.
"Zhen Qianfan administered a strange drug to me daily. If that thing is not removed, I fear I will never truly be free of him. He underestimated my discernment."
*He wants me to cut open his belly?* Amid his astonishment, Ding Songyan still drew the forged-steel dagger from the hidden pocket of his clothing.
He had only taken two steps forward when sudden pounding knocks sounded on the door behind him.
Before he could react, the heavy iron door was pushed open with a creak.
*Who is it?* Ding Songyan frantically turned aside, catching sight of a figure both familiar and strange.
The person wore a scallion-white short jacket with a straight overlapping collar embroidered with silver trim over a light, gauzy, goose-yellow silk skirt. Her hair was simply pinned up and bound with a white silk kerchief, most of it cascading down, pitch-black and lustrous.
Her beauty was peerless, her features like poetry and painting. Her mere presence seemed to instantly clear and purify the foul air of the cramped room.
"Qingyan..." Ding Songyan breathed her name.
The girl was unmistakably Ding Qingyan, yet she seemed to have matured several years overnight. Her features had fully opened up, and her figure was now graceful and alluring, possessing both the tenderness of youth and an intoxicating charm—so breathtakingly beautiful that one could hardly look away.
In that instant, out of the corner of his eye, Ding Songyan saw Yan Changqing's expression shift.
In Ding Songyan's memory, this old man either smiled with composed ease or remained as calm as still water, rarely showing any other emotion. Yet at this moment, an unmistakable trace of terror surfaced on his face.
"You..." Yan Changqing's hoarse, aged voice sounded.
Her beautiful eyes darting playfully, the young woman smiled captivatingly and said, "Master, your disciple has come to save you."
***
Atop the highest watchtower.
Zheng Zhuxi asked her mother in bewilderment, "Mother, who could the main player be?
"Also, I asked you before: aside from moth seeds and witchcraft, what kind of art can force a person to do things against their will and render them unable to speak what they wish? You never gave me an answer."
With a slightly grave expression, Tao Wenshu replied, "I have pondered it for a long time. Considering that the physical abnormalities of Qiu Chen, Li Zhi, and Qi Xiaoxiang were concealed, what I consider most likely is...
"The *Heaven Heart Wisdom Sutra*."
Chapter 50