Chapter 62: Dusk
Yuanfengwei's efficiency was astonishing. The moment Yun Yuan pushed open the pharmacy's carved wooden door, the familiar aroma of medicine filled her face—each herb meticulously arranged according to Xuanhetang's specifications.
The morning light filtered through the screen window, casting diamond-shaped spots of light on the medicine cabinet.
The girl's tears silently slid down and dripped onto the bluestone medicine grinder, blending with the medicine powder to form a dark mark.
Tao Yao had said she possessed abilities beyond the reach of others, and that she shouldn't obsess over martial arts, but rather learn to use a small force to achieve a great outcome. She also knew she disliked the flash of swords and sabers. Even if she wanted revenge, she could have used someone else to eliminate Feng Xiaoming, even using a borrowed knife to kill. But she chose to end him herself. She wanted to pierce his chest, crush his internal organs, and leave him with his last breath to savor the taste of being burned by sulfur.
But she was born with such a frail frame that she couldn't even draw a bow. With her enemy so close at hand, she watched him escape. At the birthday banquet at Bagong Mountain, despite having the help of a wandering owl, she couldn't find any trace of the venomous snake.
And it doesn’t stop there.
Yun Yuan's fingertips brushed against the medicine box, and Feng Xiaoming's smirking face suddenly appeared before her eyes. Her throat choked, and tears fell onto the medicine box like beads from a broken string.
After all these years, she is still helpless against the poison of "impermanence".
Days of running around had drained her of her strength, and the frustration she felt now was like a flood, shattering her last defenses. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn't help sobbing and trembling, but she stifled the sobs in her throat, wiping her sleeve across her eyes, leaving burning red marks. Her fingers trembled as she opened each medicine box, her eyes hazy with tears, stubbornly identifying the herbs—angelica root, angelica sinensis, pinellia tuber—leaving a tiny tremor in the air with each herb she grasped.
The shadow of the sun quietly climbed over the window lattice, climbing up the medicine cabinet inch by inch from the blue brick floor, from cold to white, and finally turned into a touch of warm yellow.
The setting sun lengthened her shadow, casting it alone on the medicine cabinet.
The water in the medicine pot was changed three times, and the prescription on the table was revised seven times. From the dawn dew to the end of the long day, she stood at the medicine table, constantly preparing one antidote after another as if atonement. Her sweat-soaked hair stuck to her cheeks, dyed a faint golden color by the setting sun, but her eyes remained dim, like a dying charcoal fire.
The wrist that was turning the medicine grinder was suddenly wrapped by a strong palm.
"I haven't eaten a grain of rice all day."
Feng Yanyuan's voice was unspeakably soft, as if it was carried in by the evening breeze outside the window.
Yun Yuan abruptly withdrew her hand, turned around, and bowed her head. From her peripheral vision, the food on the mahogany table remained untouched—the meal delivered at noon had long since gone cold. Feng Jiu had come several times, each time being gently but unequivocally rejected by her.
"I don't feel hungry."
The girl's voice was hoarse, her face was sallow, her eyes were dull and lifeless beneath her swollen eyelids, her eyes were grey, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks.
Feng Yanyuan felt sad when he saw this and choked for a long time. When he spoke, he was cautious as if he was afraid of scaring away the skylarks under the eaves.
"That's how annoying it is."
"I dare not."
"Call me a slave."
Feng Yanyuan muttered to himself, then sighed softly and turned around, saying, "Follow me." He took two steps forward and saw that she was still standing there motionless. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow: "Don't you call yourself a servant? How can a master not be able to control a servant?"
Yun Yuan replied softly, "Yes," and followed slowly.
Feng Yanyuan led her into the wing room—the very room Yun Yuan had lived in when she first arrived at Lei Ting Manor. In a dim corner, the seven-foot iron pestle still leaned against the wall, its rust-stained surface still stained with sawdust. The room was in an inexplicably messy state, with wood shavings and lumber scattered across the floor. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of pine and the pungent smell of rust.
In fact, if Yun Yuan paid a little attention, she would have found that Feng Yanyuan's plain long clothes when he got up in the morning were also covered with sawdust, and there were several bloody scratches on his knuckles and the back of his hands.
But the girl stood there blankly, her eyes vacant, like a porcelain doll that had lost its soul. Her pale face looked particularly fragile in the twilight, and even her clothes seemed frozen in the heavy air.
Feng Yanyuan spoke to himself, "When I first inherited the Wind God Halberd, I was nothing but a useless piece of shit with no martial arts foundation at all. The divine weapon's innate energy was so overpowering that not only could I not use it, it actually eroded my meridians day and night. Back then, my brother took me to suppress bandits and deliberately left me in a dangerous situation, saying he wanted to unleash the halberd's potential. After being captured, I was tortured and nearly..." He paused, "Fortunately, Elder Yue rescued me and brought me back to Thunder Manor to train for some time. He also taught me how to control my internal energy."
Feng Yanyuan looked at the dusty iron pestle and said with a helpless smile, "Speaking of which, I should have called you Master, but unfortunately the Feng family cannot recognize outsiders as their masters."
He opened the dusty camphorwood box beside the iron pestle, revealing a stack of hemp paper. He spread the calligraphy pieces out on the table. The paper had turned brittle and yellow, the handwriting crooked and distorted, some barely more than trembling blots of ink. On the topmost piece, the crooked "Yong" (永) had a long tail at the end, as if the hand holding it was shaking violently. Feng Yanyuan's fingers gently brushed the hemp paper, and the pages rustled delicately.
"You'd be surprised to learn that Senior Yue, a master of his generation, only taught me calligraphy." He pointed at the crooked characters with a wry smile. "From bamboo tube to iron pestle, I copied the 'Classic of Purity and Tranquility' dozens of times every day. By the end, I could even recite the entire text in my dreams."
The dusk outside the window was warm, and a ray of setting sun gilded the ugly handwriting.
He turned to gaze at the archery target in the courtyard, his gaze faraway. "Back then, the Prince of Changshan was still the Prince of Changsha, training with Master Yue. Though two or three years my senior, he was still barely old enough to draw the ebony bow and easily hit the bull's eye from sixty paces away." He opened his palm, examining the base of his palm with a wry smile. "Meanwhile, I... couldn't even draw the bow fully. Every time I did, the shock would crack my base of the palm."
Yun Yuan was slightly stunned.
"I've been weak and sickly since childhood, but then I suddenly gained the power of the divine halberd. Sometimes I'm weak, sometimes I'm incredibly strong." Feng Yanyuan chuckled, a hint of youthful innocence in his eyes. "Seeing that the prince was such a great archer, I secretly wanted to compete with him and practiced archery as well..." He shook his head. "It's funny, all these years later, I still shoot arrows from time to time. It's just that I can't let go of that competitive spirit from my childhood."
He turned and looked directly at Yun Yuan, his gaze as sharp as a torch. "That's how Old Yue snatched the bow from my hand and said to me—" He paused, "Every inch has its own strengths. Sharpening those strengths to perfection is the key to victory."
Yun Yuan's eyelashes drooped, casting a shadow under her eyes: "My lord, you are right, this servant..."
"You're still angry with me." Feng Yanyuan muttered in a low voice with a hint of grievance.
Yun Yuan's fingertips trembled slightly: "Yuan'er... never blamed you, sir."
Feng Yanyuan said, "You are as light as a swallow. If you want to launch a sneak attack, the Black Gold Claws I gave you earlier would be perfect. However, they can only be used for close combat, which is indeed not ideal."
He suddenly placed his hands on her thin shoulders and turned her towards the table beside him.
The setting sun filtered through the window screen, casting tiny specks of gold on the rosewood table, making the long ebony box appear even more subdued and dark. The box, more than two feet long, had smooth lines, and the flowing cloud patterns carved all over it were faintly visible in the twilight.
"Open it and take a look." Feng Yanyuan said with a smile.
She hesitantly pushed open the lid of the box, and an exquisite crossbow lay quietly inside. The crossbow made of black iron was emitting a cold blue light.
"This is..." Her finger hovered above the crossbow arm, stunned.
Feng Yanyuan held the crossbow in his palm.
"You don't have enough wrist strength and your internal strength is still shallow. Wielding a sword and saber will result in half the effort and twice the results. Even using a hidden weapon will not reach far." He tapped the crossbow trigger lightly with his fingertips, and the copper mechanism made a crisp sound.
"This crossbow is of the Yuanrong crossbow type left by Zhuge Wuhou. I have always been interested in it and have studied it for many years. Today, I took advantage of my free time to modify it." As he spoke, he pressed the hidden buckle on the crossbow body with his thumb, and the sandalwood quiver popped open with a "click". The twenty three-edged armor-piercing needles in the box shone with cold light. They were as thin as bamboo chopsticks but with sharp edges. Every blood groove was shining with a cold and dim light.
"A single shot can penetrate three layers of iron armor, and ten needles fired simultaneously can block a thirty-meter-square retreat." He suddenly flipped the wrist crossbow, the mechanism turning with a sound like a venomous snake. "If twenty needles are fired simultaneously... even a net in heaven or earth can be torn open." He pointed at the bottom. "The most important thing is the internal spring mechanism—no need to draw the string to store power, yet the power is comparable to a three-stone bow. If the needle groove is poisoned..."
Yun Yuan's originally dim eyes lit up like stars. She carefully took the crossbow trigger with both hands, and her fingertips gently stroked every pattern, as if she had encountered a rare treasure. She murmured, "This three-edged needle is enough..."
Feng Yanyuan's lips curled up softly unconsciously, his voice so soft as if he was afraid of disturbing the moment of peace: "This three-edged needle... is indeed enough to defeat the enemy from a distance. Now we just need to practice our accuracy..." He raised his hand and pointed out the window. The afterglow of the setting sun was gilding the target in the distance. "The shadow is still long, would you like to give it a try?"
Under the eaves, the iron horses clanked, and two brisk figures startled a few returning birds, which fluttered away, darting past the straw target in the courtyard. A warm evening breeze blew the red silk of the bull's-eye slightly, like a smear of cinnabar against the gathering dusk.
Yun Yuan raised the crossbow and aimed at the nearest bull's eye, his fingertips carefully touching the mechanism.
Feng Yanyuan leaned in from behind, the warmth of his chest piercing her shoulder blades through the fabric of her clothes, his left hand firmly supporting her trembling elbow. He leaned in closer, his face almost touching her temples, his gaze level with hers, his breath brushing against her ear.
"Straighten it."
A deep voice brushed against her ear bone, and the fresh air of pinewood mixed with body heat suddenly enveloped her. Every breath was incredibly hot, and the tips of her ears quickly turned a thin layer of red, and even the side of her neck trembled slightly.
He raised his right hand and knocked on the bronze watchtower with his knuckles. The gilded scale suddenly lit up with a bloody glow in the sunset.
"Look through here, each inch of the scale is about twenty steps, judge the distance..." The fingertips with thin calluses slid across her knuckles and pressed lightly on the knuckles where she was holding the hanging knife, "Then-"
Yun Yuan concentrated and held her breath, watching the fluorescent jade on the side of the mountain gleaming coldly in the setting sun. When the bull's eye precisely matched the fourth gilded mark, she lightly tapped it with her fingertips.
“Whoosh—”
A silver light pierced through the air, and the straw target eighty steps away trembled violently. A tiny hole was pierced in the middle of the red silk. The sharp needle, with its remaining force, was deeply nailed into the wooden stake behind it, and the tail of the needle was still trembling.
Feng Yanyuan's eyes flashed with surprise. "Good eyesight." He gently brushed away the hair that had been blown to her lips by the wind. "With an accuracy of 80 steps, this is the level of a lieutenant general in the army."
Yun Yuan stared blankly at the bull's eye in the distance, the joy in her eyes was like the sunset glow in the sky, staining her cheeks with a faint blush.
Feng Yanyuan looked at the light dancing in her eyes, and suddenly a suffocating softness arose in his heart.
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