Chapter 45: Hatred as the Boat, Blood as the Sail
"Candle shadow", "candle shadow", "candle shadow"...
Su Qinghan returned to the temporary residence arranged for her by the Six Gates and locked herself in. She didn't turn on the lights, letting the last ray of sunlight outside the window be swallowed up by the night, letting the darkness completely envelope her.
In the pitch-black silence, those two words seemed to have life, echoing, colliding, and burning in her mind over and over again.
Candle shadow.
What a beautiful name, yet so vicious.
A candle burns to bring light, but where there is light, there is always a shadow. It is the reverse side of light, the price of warmth, the coldest and most deadly darkness amidst the prosperity.
Su Qinghan chewed the name over and over in his mind, as if he wanted to crush it with his teeth, feel its bloody taste with the tip of his tongue, and then carve these broken, poisonous syllables into his bones and blood, word by word, and imprint them in the deepest part of his soul.
From this moment on, this code name is no longer just the name of a person, a murderer.
It became the end of her five years of wandering, the answer to all her pain and confusion. It was a beacon, illuminating her only path forward with the light of hatred. It was a pair of shackles, tightly binding her to the fate of revenge.
It is her only goal to survive.
Su Qinghan slowly drew her longsword, "Hanjiangxue." The cold moonlight filtered through the window lattice, illuminating the sword, a chilling reflection that illuminated her pale, resolute face.
Five years ago, when her father collapsed before her, she felt as if her entire world had collapsed. Her adoptive father, Tie Wuqing, taught her that hatred alone wasn't enough for revenge; it only blinded and weakened her. She had to learn patience, disguise, and reason to control her hatred.
So, she became the Six Gates' "inside agent" and the Nether Spring's assassin, "Fei Yue." She suppressed the hatred that could burn everything deep in her heart, using cold rationality as a shell to live cautiously, searching for the faintest clue.
But now, when the name "Zhuying" appeared, she found that all her disguises and all her rationality collapsed in an instant. The volcano that had been suppressed for five years finally found an outlet to erupt.
It turns out that hatred is not a burden to her.
Hatred is her strength. It is her boat, her sail. Only by steering this ship forged entirely of hatred, using blood as a sail, can she cross the sea of suffering and reach the shore of revenge.
"Zhuying..." She swore a blood oath to the sword in a voice that only she could hear, "I, Su Qinghan, will fight you till death in this life."
Late at night, swords howled in the training grounds of the Six Gates headquarters.
Su Qinghan, dressed in white, practiced swordplay under the moonlight. Her "Hanjiangxue" sword technique had long lost the agility and grace of its Su family heritage, leaving only pure, undisguised murderous intent.
Each thrust of the sword seemed to pierce an invisible enemy. The sword light was like a waterfall, but it was no longer a sky full of pear blossoms, but an icy blizzard that threatened to freeze and tear apart everything in the world.
Tie Wuqing had quietly stood at the edge of the martial arts arena without anyone noticing. He stood with his hands behind his back, brows furrowed, and watched quietly.
He watched as Su Qinghan's sword moves became faster and more fierce, and there were even a few moves that lost their rhythm and revealed flaws because he used too much force.
"That's enough."
Tie Wuqing shouted in a deep voice.
Su Qinghan turned a deaf ear to him, and his sword became even more fierce.
"I told you to stop!" Tie Wuqing's voice suddenly rose, like thunder out of the blue, making the air buzz.
Su Qinghan's figure suddenly froze, her long sword pointed diagonally at the ground, her chest heaving violently, sweat trickling down her temples. Without turning back, she coldly said, "Foster father, you're up so late at night, are you here to teach me swordsmanship?"
"Guidance?" Tie Wuqing slowly walked up to her, his gaze as sharp as a torch, staring directly into her eyes. "If I don't come soon, your 'Hanjiangxue' will become a piece of scrap metal that can only chop around!"
He stretched out two fingers and lightly flicked Su Qinghan's sword.
"Buzz—"
The sword emitted a clear and mournful cry.
"The sword is an extension of the heart." Tie Wuqing's voice was as cold as iron. "Your heart is in turmoil. Your sword now holds only hatred, not soul. With you like this, let alone challenging the legendary 'Candle Shadow', you could be killed even if you encounter a second-rate master!"
"My heart is not in turmoil!" Su Qinghan raised his head suddenly, his eyes bloodshot, a light mixed with paranoia and madness. "I am more clear-headed than ever! I know who my enemy is, and I know what I should do! I will kill him and avenge my father!"
"Revenge?" Tie Wuqing asked sternly, "Using your flawed swordsmanship to seek revenge? Qinghan, you underestimate Zhuying. He's not one of those scumbags you encountered in Youquan. He's a ghost standing at the pinnacle of the assassin world! He's the Tianji Pavilion's sharpest, most expensive, and most perfect killing tool! Do you think you can kill him with just courage?"
"So what?" Su Qinghan held his head high stubbornly, like a plum blossom in the snow that would rather break than bend. "No matter how strong he is, he is still human after all. As a human, he has weaknesses. As a human, he will die!"
Tie Wuqing felt a surge of helplessness as he watched her like this. He knew that this girl, whom he treated like his own daughter, was completely consumed by hatred. Any attempt to dissuade her would only have the opposite effect.
He was silent for a moment, then changed his tone and asked in a deep voice, "Then tell me, how much do you know about your enemy?"
"He is the chief assassin of Tianji Pavilion. He uses a narrow-bladed dagger. His sword skills are as fast as lightning and his body movements are mysterious." Su Qinghan repeated the contents of the report.
"That's all?" Tie Wuqing sneered. "These are just legends, these are the results. Do you know why he was able to do all this? Do you know what he went through to develop this skill? You don't. You're just venting your hatred towards a meaningless code name."
He turned around, his back to Su Qingxing, and a hint of fatigue lingered in his voice: "Know yourself and your enemy, and you can fight a hundred battles without danger. You don't even know what kind of existence your enemy is, so how can you talk about revenge?"
After saying that, he took out a thick stack of files from his arms and threw them on the ground.
"Here are the records of all the unsolved cases suspected to be related to 'Zhu Ying' in the Six Gates over the years. Most of them are just speculations, but they are enough for you to piece together a more realistic demon. You can do whatever you want."
Tie Wuqing's figure disappeared into the darkness, leaving only Su Qinghan and the stack of files scattered on the ground.
She knew that her adoptive father wanted to use these bloody cases to make her understand the terrifying nature of her opponents and to make her give up.
But she insisted on facing the challenge.
What she wanted to see was not how terrifying this demon was, but whether there was even a tiny flaw in this demon that she could exploit.
Back in the room, Su Qinghan lit the oil lamp.
Under the light, she spread out the yellowed files and read them carefully page by page.
The text in the files is cold and objective, yet it depicts chilling scenes of killing.
In the fourth year of the Jingyuan reign, General Li Mu, the commander of the northern border, had his throat slashed within his tent, guarded by 30,000 personal soldiers. No signs of a struggle were found at the scene, and the sentries heard no unusual noises. The only clue was a hairline-thin wound on Li Mu's neck.
In the fifth year of the Jingyuan reign, Qian Wansan, the world's wealthiest salt merchant, died from a severe poisoning in a secret chamber he had built, claiming not even a fly could enter. The chamber's mechanism remained intact, and the door lock was unbroken. An autopsy revealed that the poison had been injected directly into his heart through a special method.
In the seventh year of the Jingyuan era, the chief envoy of a diplomatic mission from Japan mysteriously disappeared on his returning ship. Half a month later, his body was found on a coast thousands of miles away. The cause of death: a sword pierced the heart. With over a hundred people on board, no one knew when the murderer boarded the ship or how he left.
…
Each and every one of them was an assassination so perfect that it was hopeless.
Su Qinghan felt cold all over.
She finally understood why Tie Wuqing had said she'd underestimated Zhuying. This man couldn't be judged simply by his martial arts prowess. His assassination was more like an art form, a precise and cold art of death.
He is like a walking Grim Reaper, harvesting life after life without any emotion. In his world, there is no right or wrong, no good or evil, only "goals" and "missions."
Su Qinghan's breathing gradually became heavy. She put herself in the role of those victims, trying to imagine what kind of horrible existence they faced at the last moment of death.
Is he a green-faced, fang-toothed demon? Or a cold-blooded killer?
The more she read the files, the clearer the image of "Candle Shadow" became in her mind.
He must be a monster, stripped of all emotion from childhood. His childhood was probably spent in endless, bloody training. His heart was devoid of joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness, leaving only absolute obedience to orders.
Such a person has no friends, no relatives, and no lover.
He is an island, a desert.
He is a complete machine born for killing.
Thinking of this, Su Qinghan did not feel the slightest fear in his heart. Instead, a strange, cold pleasure surged up in his heart.
Very good.
That would be great.
Her enemy was such a pure demon without a trace of impurities. She could hate him without reservation and kill him with peace of mind without any psychological burden.
She was about to turn to the next page when her eyes accidentally swept across an inconspicuous description. It was a speculation made by the coroner when analyzing the Qian Wansan case:
[…The killer most likely used a special finger technique or tool at close range to insert a thin needle containing poison into the target's body. This method requires a deep understanding of the human meridians and acupoints, and the technique must be lightning-fast to leave the victim unaware. The technique is similar to the Six Gates' secret technique, the 'Three-Inch Nail,' but even more sinister and ruthless…]
"Three-inch nails"...
When Su Qinghan saw these three words, his heart suddenly stabbed.
Isn’t this the unique hidden weapon technique she learned from the Six Gates?
An inappropriate image suddenly popped into her mind.
It was in the ruined temple, just as the traitor was about to detonate the gunpowder. A figure in black approached like a ghost, striking him with a sword. Simultaneously, she struck out, using her "three-inch nail" to knock the flint out of the traitor's hand.
It was a silent and seamless cooperation.
It was the cooperation between her and Shen Ye.
"No……"
Su Qinghan's pupils suddenly contracted. She felt as if her heart was being tightly grasped by an invisible hand, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.
Why?
Why do I think of him at this time?
She tried to banish the figure from her mind, but the more she resisted, the clearer the memory became.
She recalled the siege in the valley, where she had been stabbed several times and was on the verge of death. It was he, like a god descending from heaven, who, with his incredibly swift swordsmanship, had carved a bloody path for her. His sword, every strike deadly, always protected her.
She recalled the small courtyard outside the capital, where she had been seriously injured and unconscious, and how he had clumsily tended to her wounds. She recalled the assassin, a skilled martial artist, who had been rendered speechless by the pharmacy owner's questions when trying to buy medicine.
She thought of that bowl of bitterly salty porridge, and the man whose face was covered in dirt from the stove fire, the rare embarrassment on his face, and the tenderness that flashed in his eyes, which she had not understood at the time.
She recalled the night when she had a high fever and he had stayed awake all night, using his inner energy to ward off the cold for her. When she woke up in the morning, she saw his profile, sleeping soundly on the side of the bed, his face slightly pale from the exhaustion of his inner energy.
Scene by scene, frame by frame, they are all the warmest and most unexistent memories in her life.
These memories form such a sharp and contradictory contrast with the cold and inhuman "candle shadow" in the file.
A murderous devil.
A clumsy and gentle man.
How could it be possible...
Su Qinghan felt a sharp pain in his head, as if it was about to split open.
She hated "Zhuying" so much that she wanted to cut it into pieces.
But she...she owed Chen Ye for saving her life. During the time they spent together, she developed feelings for him that she didn't even dare to admit.
She even made an appointment with him on the Yangzhou Bridge.
"No! That's not it!"
Su Qinghan growled, holding his head with both hands, his nails digging deep into his scalp.
"These are two different things! Shen Ye is Shen Ye, and 'Zhu Ying' is 'Zhu Ying'!"
She told herself this over and over again.
Chen Ye was a stranger she encountered in the Jianghu, an assassin forced to do what she wanted. He had done her a favor, a favor she would repay. After she had killed Zhu Ying and settled this deep blood feud, she would seek him out and spend the rest of her life repaying this debt.
And "Zhuying" is the murderer of her father and the enemy she must kill with her own hands.
Yes, that's it.
She forcibly separated the two images and built a high wall in her heart, prohibiting them from having any intersection.
Her mind screamed frantically, trying to convince herself that this was all coincidence. Perhaps martial arts shared commonalities; perhaps assassins shared similar techniques. That tacit understanding in the ruined temple, that rescue in the valley, were all mere chance encounters.
She had to believe it.
Otherwise, she would go crazy.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She packed up all her thoughts about the night and locked them in the box deepest in her heart, sealing it.
Now, only one thing is allowed to exist in her world: revenge.
After a long time, she sat up straight again, her eyes returning to their previous coldness and determination, even purer than before, because beneath that determination, buried a deeper fear.
She closed her eyes, trying to reconstruct the image of the green-faced, fang-toothed devil named "Candle Shadow" in her mind.
However, what slowly emerged from the darkness was the figure in the courtyard, who turned around and gave her a somewhat clumsy but extremely genuine smile in the hazy morning light.
She shook her head vigorously, as if trying to shake off some possessing nightmare, and threw the inappropriate image out of her mind.
Revenge.
After she gets her revenge, she will go find him.
Su Qinghan opened his eyes, and there was only endless frost in them.
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