Ahead stood a half-mountain, its slopes barren and desolate, with only a few sparse clusters of scrub struggling to survive in the nooks and crannies. Yet the eyes of any traveler coming here for the first time were bound to be drawn to it, for its shape was exceedingly peculiar:
The upper half of the peak was gone, yet it did not look like the result of weathering or natural collapse. The sheared surface was extraordinarily flat and even, as if struck by a blade swinging diagonally, cleaved cleanly in two!
That severed face was abrupt and uncompromising.
One had to remember that this had been an entire towering peak, millions of tons of rock and soil, not a clump of bamboo that could be lopped off with ease.
A local legend had it that in ancient times, an immortal fought a battle here and sheared through the mountain with a single stroke of a sword. Hence, this severed peak was also known as the Immortal's Slash.
Such legends were everywhere in this world and impossible to verify. But a few years ago, the original host of He Lingchuan had actually climbed up the Immortal's Slash and seen with his own eyes that the fracture was smooth and seamless. Across such a vast expanse, there was not the slightest bump or hollow—something even the most meticulous stonemason's polishing could never achieve.
Whether wrought by human hands or not, it defied belief.
Sun Fuping gazed at the half-mountain, as though sensing the ferocity and sharpness lingering from that strike even now. Only after a long silence did he exhale a deep breath. "The Dao knows no bounds."
Further ahead, rounding a mountain col, a lone desert poplar stood by the road. Dangling starkly beneath its gnarled, withered branches were two human figures.
The wind blew, and the bodies swayed.
Beneath the tree, quite a few wayfarers had gathered to watch, pointing and whispering amongst themselves.
As National Preceptor Sun's party drew close, they saw two white boards hanging from the corpses, inscribed respectively with "Courtesy Demands" and "Reciprocity."
The expressions of Nian Songyu and Sun Fuping shifted at once. Their sharp eyes immediately caught the transparent tags pinned to the lapels of the corpses, bearing the two characters "Donglai."
Of the guards from the Donglai Residence dispatched to track the West Mountain sand leopard, two had gone to Blackwater City and gone missing. Sun and Nian both knew about this, as they had assigned the men themselves. But because clues about the sand leopard's whereabouts had already begun to surface back then, they had not investigated further.
Now, those two had turned into corpses, dangling right along their unavoidable path.
Nian Songyu could tell at a glance that both had died of snapped necks and had suffered torture before their deaths.
Seeing Nian Songyu's face flush crimson and the veins bulging on his neck, National Preceptor Sun quickly caught his shoulder. "Do not act rashly! Is this not within expectations?" These two guards had been missing for a long time; their side had already deduced that they were likely dead.
"The Donglai Residence guards were arranged by us—that little bastard is getting back at us!" Nian Songyu ground his teeth. He had killed one sparrowhawk demon, so the other side had slaughtered two of his men in retaliation.
The Donglai Residence was far from the borderlands after all, so the Grand Marshal had assigned his own guards for the two of them to deploy.
National Preceptor Sun's face darkened. "The greater picture takes precedence! No infighting right now."
"Once we obtain the Dafang Pot..." Nian Songyu gritted his teeth, knowing He Lingchuan had calculated that they still had to rely on the Blackwater City forces and could not afford to fall out just yet. Turning his head, he roared, "He Lingchuan!"
He Chunhua was also stunned upon catching sight of the corpses. Weren't these two supposed to be locked away at the Red-White Gang's farmhouse?
Then he recalled that his eldest son had always acted with reckless abandon.
Just because he had shown a bit of restraint over the past two months did not mean his true nature had changed.
Only after Nian Songyu called out twice did He Lingchuan spur his mount forward at a leisurely pace, facing Nian Songyu's volcanic fury. "Commandant Nian, what is the matter?"
"Do you recognize these two?"
He Lingchuan looked closely for a few moments, inwardly startled. Had Uncle Hao vented all his pent-up rage like this?
"Of course not. With so many people coming and going from Blackwater City, how could I possibly remember every single name?" He paused. "Huh, they actually have name badges from the Donglai Residence. How could such important figures end up hanged in a backwater like this?"
"Good, very good." Nian Songyu laughed out of sheer fury, then abruptly shifted the topic. "When a companion dies along the Red Cliff Road, how do you usually deal with it?"
He had guessed immediately that the two guards must have been killed by He Lingchuan. The kid was deliberately rubbing salt in his wound; asking further would only invite more mockery.
When talk turned sour, half a sentence was too much, so there was no need to probe any deeper.
"If they can't be carried back, sky burial," He Lingchuan said with a shrug. "Since they didn't meet a peaceful end anyway, we might as well let the creatures of the desert give thanks for nature's bounty."
He Chunhua hurried over to interject, "Most are buried in the ground."
"Earth burial it is, then." They were men of the Donglai Residence after all; leaving their corpses exposed to the wilderness would not do.
He Lingchuan chuckled. "A trivial matter. Commandant Nian had better focus on the present so as not to delay the expedition's progress."
To finally throw those words back in his face—what a relief!
A flash of malice flickered through Nian Songyu's eyes. He then instructed Zeng Feixiong to dispatch men to cut down the two corpses and bury them where they lay.
The column naturally could not wait and pressed on ahead.
The sensation of Nian Songyu's glare felt like a venomous snake at his back, sending chills down his spine. He Lingchuan reined in beside his father to slow their pace, falling into the middle of the column.
A man as proud as Commandant Nian would naturally ride at the head; surely he couldn't keep glancing back at He Lingchuan every other minute.
"What are you doing?" He Chunhua rebuked his son in a low voice. "Killing those two achieves nothing and only deepens our feud with Nian Songyu."
He did not know that Uncle Hao was the one who killed them.
"It vents some spleen!" Seeing his father scold him as if nothing had happened, He Lingchuan couldn't help sneering. "Those two stoop to any depth to plot against us, and your son isn't allowed to slap them back? Besides, he needs something from us; he's the last person who should pick a fight right now."
"If we return alive, in the future—"
"If we return bearing the treasure, the Grand Marshal will be overjoyed. Why would he bother over such a petty matter?" He Lingchuan said listlessly. "Father, you're not old yet, but your courage has shrunk."
He Chunhua pondered for a moment, his expression dimming slightly. "You are right. I have been overly cautious."
He was always thinking about serving as officials in the same court in the future, particularly since their family would be returning to the capital with unestablished footing, where making fewer enemies was best.
The thought might not have been wrong, but with this obsequious, walking-on-eggshells mindset before the rich and powerful, how could one ever achieve great ambitions?
As he privately checked himself, he said to He Lingchuan, "Chuan'er, you're still blaming your father for dragging you along, aren't you?"
What kind of question was that? Should he blurt out an honest "yes," or lie and say "no"? He Lingchuan could only give a dry laugh. "How would your son dare?"
"What father doesn't wish for his son to enjoy peace and prosperity? But in times like these, that is impossible." He Chunhua patted his shoulder. "Chuan'er, you are no longer a child. It is time you underwent proper tempering."
He Lingchuan couldn't hold back. "When others temper themselves, the difficulty scales from low to high." Only his father threw him straight into the deep end.
Seeing his eldest son so full of grievances, He Chunhua smiled. "Don't blame your father for being callous. With you around, our chances of returning home safely increase by at least twenty percent. The Great Shaman's words were no joke."
He Lingchuan rolled his eyes. If the original host truly were a lucky star, why did he die without a whisper, leaving his mortal shell to be taken over by an outsider like him?
Yet that retort could only stay choked down in his throat.
Making a scene now would accomplish nothing anyway. What was more, as the local governor and as his father, He Chunhua had no need to explain himself to him in the first place.
Chapter 20