Chapter 68 Miao Shan escapes
She held herself steady, her left hand reaching out to firmly grasp the hemp rope tied to a screaming, eye-closed child. Then, turning over, she drew her sword with her right hand. The Xingyi sword sliced through iron like mud, piercing deeply into the rough, steep cliff face, dangling the two of them in mid-air.
Below, clouds and mist swirled, and the mountain stream was a thin, white line. Bai Xiaosheng's disciple was suddenly restrained by a tremendous force, halting his rapid descent. He was already dazed from the combination of fear and joy, and he tilted his head to stare blankly at the sky above.
He saw a woman in black, holding the hilt of her sword firmly, looking at him with lowered brows. The wind whistled in his ears, and he seemed to see the legendary sword immortal in Baiyujing who pacified the world with his sword. He was deeply shocked.
"I didn't cry." The Sword Immortal looked at him, suddenly smiled, and said, "Aren't you afraid of heights?"
"It's okay." The child murmured.
He had been hanging on the cliff for a long time by the gray-robed man, and his arms felt as if they were torn apart and he was in excruciating pain. But he was still conscious and not very afraid. This courage was rare and precious for someone his age.
He is worthy of being the disciple personally chosen by Bai Xiaosheng.
"I'll go kill the people up there, and then send you to your master. He's worried sick about you." Wen Yao pulled up steadily with his left hand: "Grab my clothes, wrap the rope around me, and lie on my back."
The child swallowed his saliva and looked down, then closed his eyes and without hesitation, grabbed the hem of Wen Yao's clothes and climbed up carefully. He took out the hemp rope from his waist and wrapped it around Wen Yao's waist and back, tying himself and her together. He pulled Wen Yao's hair and whispered, "His skills are very strange, you should be careful."
"Yeah, I know." Wen Yao responded.
Just as she finished speaking, a sudden crashing sound came from above their heads. Half-human-high, extremely heavy rocks and mud came crashing down on them.
If it was hit hard, it would not have to wait until it fell off the cliff and died, it would probably die on the spot.
Wen Yao was calm and composed: "Hold on to me, we are going up."
With that, she leaped back, unsheathing her Xingyi Sword. Simultaneously, she placed her foot sideways on a rocky outcrop and, swinging her sword, soared into the air. A sharp gust of wind swept past, and the boulder above her instantly cracked, shattering into fragments before crumbling into dust. The boy wasn't struck, but his face was covered in sand and dirt, forcing him to close his eyes tightly. He felt his body lighten, and the wind around him dropped. When he opened his eyes, Wen Yao was already standing steadily atop Huifeng Cliff, sword in one hand, carrying him on her back. In front of him stood a gray-robed figure, sword raised, a wary expression on his face.
Wen Yao raised his hand and slashed the Xingyi Sword across his body, instantly breaking the ropes. The boy hadn't eaten in two days since being kidnapped. As soon as he landed, he felt dizzy and groggy, his legs limp as he collapsed to the ground.
Vaguely noticing that Wen Yao was looking at him, the boy immediately waved his hand and hurriedly said, "I won't run around or move around. Go ahead and kill people, don't think about me."
He was very outgoing and good at leveraging other people's power. Not long ago, he was still shouting for his master to come and save him, but now he was relying on Wen Yao and dared to say such words in front of the gray-robed man, showing that he did not take the gray-robed man seriously.
The gray-robed man was naturally furious upon hearing this. He could not tolerate the two men's arrogance. He suddenly raised his sword, which was as swift as an eagle's claw, and with a chilling internal force, he attacked Wen Yao at an extremely fast speed.
It was a move of the Mo Hui martial arts that Wen Yao was familiar with. What this person said was right. He was indeed the one who slipped through the net back then.
"No wonder I haven't dreamed of Yue Changtuan in all these years." Wen Yao thrust her arms forward, firmly blocking the thunderous blow. Her brows darkened, and at this moment, she seemed particularly focused, like a patient and persistent animal sharpening its fangs to capture prey. "I told him we'd killed them all, but I didn't expect to miss you."
"Wen Yao! You have the lives of so many of my brothers and sisters on your hands!" The gray-robed man glared, tears streaming down his face as he spoke. "For so many years, they have grieved death in their graves. And I have lived in shame, diligently practicing martial arts, just so that one day I could kill you with my own hands!"
In the space between these two sentences, the two figures separated, their swords shimmering like lotuses, already exchanging a hundred blows. In today's martial arts world, the Gray Robe's strength would have been considered a top-tier expert. If he were to become a revered elder in a prestigious sect, he could live a carefree life. But the Gray Robe's thirst for revenge had kept him silent for so many years, precisely for today's battle with Wen Yao.
In this situation, if the person he wanted to avenge was not Mo Hui, Wen Yao would also praise him for his loyalty and righteousness.
Unfortunately, eight years of martial arts training was too short a time. The outcome was decided in an instant. The two swords clashed once more, the Xingyi Sword wielding with unbridled force, its brush swishing like a stream of blood. The gray-robed man's arm shook like a dustpan, his tendons rupturing. The excruciating pain left him unable to lift the sword. He instinctively let go, and with a clang, the sword's tip plunged into the ground.
Wen Yao then put away his sword, raised his leg, turned over and kicked the gray-robed man in the chest, kicking him away. Then he stabbed him with a sword, stopping an inch in front of him, and looked at the gray-robed man indifferently, covering his heart and spitting out blood.
"I, I lost... I really did lose." The gray-robed man's heart ached, his voice slurred, and he gasped for breath. He suddenly breathed a sigh of relief, his entire spirit slumping, revealing a dejected dejection. "Kill me, and let me see my family."
"Of course I will kill you," Wen Yao said. "Back then, the people of Mobei and Yue Changtuan were not as strong as you. You abused them and killed them wantonly. You are not as strong as me, so I was able to kill your brothers and sisters to avenge Yue Changtuan eight years ago. Now, eight years later, I can still kill you."
With that, she thrust the sword forward gently, the tip of the sword immediately piercing the gray-robed man's throat. A sticky liquid spurted out, a few drops landing on the back of Wen Yao's hand.
"Blood feud, you kill me and I kill you, it's hard to make sense, and I have a clear conscience. If you want to sue me in front of the King of Hell when you go to the underworld, then go ahead."
The grey-robed man died, his face quickly turning pale, but his eyes were still wide open staring at Wen Yao. Wen Yao hesitated to put away his sword and stood in front of the grey-robed man's body.
The boy stood aside and watched for a while, then walked over, stretched out his hand and closed the gray robe's eyes, sighing, "Is it worth it to risk your life for someone who is already dead?"
He was different from Bai Xiaosheng. He was young, spoke clearly, and at this moment he looked calm and composed, as steady as an adult.
Wen Yao: "People in this world are not scales. Not everything can be measured by reason."
Because Gray Robe was a bit courageous and not afraid of death. In addition, eight years ago, he was just a teenager. Wen Yao gave up his original idea of cutting him into pieces and left Gray Robe with an intact body.
She put away her sword, turned to look at the boy who was sighing with his hands behind his back, and said, "Can you walk? I'll carry you."
"I can't walk, I can't walk." The boy put aside his initial nervousness and confidently stretched out his hand towards Wen Yao, saying, "Carry me."
So Wen Yao left the gray-robed man's body there, carried the boy on his back, jumped onto the treetops, and hurried down the mountain.
The foot of the mountain remained exactly as Wen Yao had left it, and Zhao Xuanxu stood there motionless, not moving a step. Qiu Huiying was surprised to see Wen Yao return and land shortly thereafter, a child tucked away on his back. He knew Wen Yao was a skilled martial artist, but with a hostage in hand, he was surprised to see him rescue them so quickly.
The boy, gazing from afar at the mountain of armored soldiers below, couldn't help but smack his lips in amazement. "Are these from the government? My master has the audacity to mobilize such a large army? And you're amazing! But even though you're so powerful, how come I've never seen you or your sword on the World Masters List in all these years?"
Although he was young, he had been influenced by Bai Xiaosheng and had already formed his own opinions on Jianghu masters and peerless weapons. He knew that Wen Yao's skills and courage were definitely not ordinary people, and he hinted at this in his words.
Wen Yao looked at Bai Xiaosheng, who walked out quickly past the crowd, and pulled his beloved disciple off his back and handed him over: "I used to be here, but later people kept bothering me and wanting to fight, so I didn't want to stay there anymore. Please ask your master to cross me out."
"Oh, oh, I see—ah?" The boy suddenly realized: "You, you are Xingyi Jian Wenyao?"
Bai Xiaosheng walked over quickly and was relieved to see his little apprentice standing perfectly fine, with neither arm nor leg missing. He squatted down and hugged his apprentice, his eyes moist. Zhao Xuanxu took Wen Yao's arm and looked him over carefully.
Wen Yao was unharmed, with only a little smell of blood and dirt on his body, so he naturally couldn't see anything.
Zhao Xuanxu's expression eased slightly. He took out a piece of fine silk and wiped the few drops of blood from the back of Wen Yao's hand. He then simply instructed the feathered guards behind him: "Go up the mountain and bring the body down. Chop the skin off and feed it to the dogs."
"Yes, Your Highness." Lingyuwei lowered his head and immediately drew his sword to go up the mountain.
Wen Yao sighed, then reached out to stop him, saying, "Forget it, leave his body intact."
Zhao Xuanxu looked down at her.
Wen Yao didn't explain, but just touched his stomach and sighed: "I didn't have enough breakfast... Let's go back and eat."
Zhao Xuanxu nodded, took Wen Yao's arm, turned around, and led her to the carriage. The feathered guards and yamen runners beside them all stepped aside, leaving the carriage on a broad road. Jiang Qiaosheng opened the window and leaned over it to watch Wen Yao, carefully studying her expression and about to call her.
Suddenly, a series of rapid horse hoofbeats were heard in the distance. A yamen runner came galloping over, whip in hand. When he reached Qiu Huiying, he reined in his horse so hastily that he almost fell off. He shouted in panic, "Report! Miao Shan injured the jailer and escaped! A fire broke out in Cihuai Temple, and everyone is trapped inside!"
Hearing this, Qiu Huiying's face changed, and he almost immediately connected Miao Shan's escape with the fire in Cihuai Temple: "Could it be that——"
But he stopped talking halfway, feeling completely puzzled - if it was Miao Shan who did it, Master Kongji and Miao Shan had a deep relationship as master and disciple, why would Miao Shan do this?
Qiu Huiying's face turned grim. He hurried to his horse's side, shouting, "Quick! Follow me back to the city!"
Buddhism had been strong for a long time, with a large number of followers. The emperor also wanted to maintain a good reputation for benevolence, so even if he wanted to suppress Buddhism, he did not dare to do so forcefully. He could only use the Cihuai Temple case to force the temple to admit its immorality and incompetence, and then weaken Buddhism.
But Master Kongji happened to be famous throughout the world. If something happened at this critical juncture, it would probably cause dissatisfaction among believers all over the world, which was definitely not what the emperor wanted to see.
A large group of troops hurried back to Gusu City. The sky was gray and white, and the peaceful morning was shattered by billowing smoke. The Gusu garrison could not be mobilized without the prefect's order. Some of the garrison had followed the prefect out of the city, leaving only a few yamen runners in the city. They rushed around in panic, facing the thick smoke rising from Cihuai Temple, and finally brought the fire under control.
A group of monks in disheveled clothes stood in the open space nearby. They were no longer as calm as before and looked disheveled.
There is emptiness in it.
He was not wearing the gorgeous cassock, but a coarse linen garment, with a bodhi bead tightly clasped in his hand. He had just caught fire, and he had been helped out by two warrior monks to save his life.
He stood aside, and the troops who had left the city returned to Cihuai Temple. Wen Yao lifted the curtain and saw his figure in front of the Zhaozhao Fire. In that moment, she thought I was Miaoshan standing there.
The streets were bustling with people, a scene of chaos. In the alleyway of Jiao Street, several young monks rushed out, clutching vegetarian bread, smiles on their faces. As they got closer and saw the flames rising from Cihuai Temple, they were startled. They instinctively looked away, shouting, "Abbot!"
Wen Yao blinked and confirmed that the person standing in front of him was Kong Ji, not Miao Shan.
She felt a little strange.
Kong Ji and Miao Shan, ignoring their tempers, this master and disciple pair are quite similar in stature, both of them are tall and strong, which is rare among the people of Tianshui.
Wen Yao seemed to be lost in thought, and slowly raised his eyes to look at Kong Ji's face.
Kong Ji is already very old, with a wrinkled face full of wrinkles. One can only vaguely see from his eyebrows and eyes that he had a very handsome face when he was young.
When the young novices saw Kong Ji, they immediately found their leader and approached him, holding the vegetarian cakes in their arms. The elder monk beside Kong Ji immediately frowned and shouted, "Where have you been? It's time to sweep the courtyard, why are you not here? Why is there a fire in the temple?"
The young novice monk sensed something was wrong and stopped, looking at each other in bewilderment. He finally stammered, "Yes, it was Master Miaoshan who came back and gave us some money, asking us to go outside the alley and buy some vegetarian cakes."
They had always been good friends with Miao Shan. When they saw their uncle coming back today, they thought the government knew they had arrested the wrong person and released him. They were immediately overjoyed and happily went out together with money to buy cakes.
But I never thought——
"Amitabha." Kong Ji slowly pressed down the hand of the big monk beside him and whispered, "Don't blame them. I can't blame them. The result today is the result of my evil deeds. This is the bitter fruit I sowed with my own hands!"
His voice was hoarse and sorrowful, carrying the gloom of complete despair, which made anyone who heard it feel terrified. Wen Yao stroked the car wall, then suddenly opened the window and leaned out, saying to Wu Peiming, who was driving, "Let's go to the gambling house!"
She suddenly realized that Miao Shan had escaped and hadn't even spared her own master, so he certainly wouldn't let go of the gambling house manager who had pointed him out. So, that manager, and even the people who were currently inside the gambling house...
Wen Yao was a step late after all.
In the past, this time of day was the quietest in the gambling house. The gamblers had eaten and drunk their fill in the evening, and either returned with a huge payout or lost everything.
But today, even at this time, the gambling house was a little too quiet.
The door was closed. Wen Yao got off the carriage and smelled a strong smell of blood as he got closer.
She pursed her lips and opened the door.
The air was thick with the stench of blood, and the ground was covered in pools of blood. Corpses lay scattered and scattered on one side. The gambling house manager stood on tiptoe, his head bowed, his chest pierced through, nailed to a pillar. His death was horrific.
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