Chapter 31: The Wind Tightens
Act now? Now!?
She hesitated for only a heartbeat—was it appropriate to strike while others were so occupied?—but decisiveness was her nature.
She had agreed that everything in this operation would follow Chu Qing's command; if he ordered action, she would act.
The sword was already in her hand; with a single turn the blade descended like lightning.
Tiles shattered as Tang Xi looked up, but he reacted instantly, scooping the startled woman from the bed and flipping positions in one swift motion.
Wu Qianhuan's expression darkened.
The woman on the bed showed no cultivation, no means of resistance, and was barely clothed; Wu Qianhuan's upbringing forbade killing an unarmed, defenseless person.
At that instant she swept her sword horizontally, knocking the woman from the bed; the woman fell unconscious without a sound.
The opportunity had been lost, and a deeper dread settled into Wu Qianhuan's chest—the so-called "night emperor" who had urged her to strike had not acted alongside her.
Had he betrayed her?
Before she could conclude, Tang Xi unleashed a palm strike; a metallic tang of blood soured the air as he pushed forward, his palm stained red.
A recognition flashed across her mind: Blood-Transforming Divine Palm.
This ruthless demonic technique had once been infamous in the Jianghu; its bite poisoned flesh and spirit, and a complete mastery could desiccate a person into a dried corpse with a single blow.
Wu Qianhuan refused to take the poisonous palm head-on and stepped back from the bed, but Tang Xi was relentless—half-dressed, he leapt forward to press the attack.
She retreated until there was nowhere left to fall back. Clenching her teeth, she gathered sword momentum for a counterstrike—when suddenly a figure burst through the window.
The blade flashed like a thunderbolt—unbelievably swift.
So fast that even a fully prepared Tang Xi barely managed to twist away, exposing only his vulnerabilities.
The sword pierced: it entered at the left chest and exited the right back.
Chu Qing's strike left no room for mercy; he twisted the blade within the wound—
Tang Xi lunged and grabbed the sword blade, trying to wrench it free, and in that motion a purple glint passed through Chu Qing's eyes.
A dull sound followed as several fingers fell to the ground, and Tang Xi, though grievously slashed, managed to pull free with a deep gash across his left chest.
Wu Qianhuan did not pause; the sword momentum she had stored erupted in a bloom of cuts across Tang Xi's body.
A normal man with such wounds would be dead beyond doubt.
Tang Xi cultivated the Heaven-Hating Demonic Art and the Blood-Transforming Divine Palm; even after suffering such severe wounds, he still refused to die.
He twisted his foot, his figure flickering in and out like a phantom as he suddenly broke from the battle circle.
Chu Qing had long expected this. He had prepared for every exit—the windows, the doors—and his sword intent was already gathered.
Yet to his surprise, Tang Xi did not flee through the window or door. He rushed instead toward a bookshelf, reached for the lampstand, and knocked it aside.
With a loud rumble, the bookshelf trembled and slowly opened to reveal a hidden passage.
The moment it cracked open, Tang Xi slipped inside.
He had barely taken two steps before freezing in place.
A sword tip pierced cleanly through his throat.
Tang Xi clenched his teeth and reached for the blade, but before his fingers could grasp it, Wu Qianhuan's sword severed his arm.
Freed of restraint, Chu Qing's sword trembled once, and Tang Xi's head rolled cleanly from his shoulders.
It tumbled several times across the ground before lying still—eyes wide open, unwilling even in death.
"Damn, he's tough to kill."
Seeing him finally dead, Chu Qing flicked the blood from his sword. He was about to sheath it when he noticed the corrosion left by Tang Xi's Blood-Transforming Palm—the blade was mottled and ruined, almost useless now.
Still, there was no time to worry. Grabbing Wu Qianhuan with one hand and retrieving Tang Xi's severed head with the other, Chu Qing turned and leapt away.
The entire pursuit and kill had taken mere moments.
As their feet landed outside, the bookshelf behind them closed with a heavy click.
"The wind's tight—move!"
Chu Qing spoke sharply, and Wu Qianhuan followed without hesitation.
Though she wanted to search the secret chamber, now was not the time.
They didn't know how large it was, what traps it held, or how many guards might be stationed within. The noise they'd made would already draw Falling Rain Hall's men to investigate.
If they were caught in that chamber, escape would be impossible.
It was a trap, meant to imprison and avenge Tang Xi even in death.
Wu Qianhuan's clear judgment impressed Chu Qing. The once naïve little girl he remembered had indeed grown up.
They wasted no time. With a light step, they vaulted through the hole in the roof and returned to the night rain.
Barely had they steadied themselves when a shout split the silence:
"Who's there!?"
"Assassins!!"
Falling Rain Hall reacted swiftly.
Without hesitation, Chu Qing and Wu Qianhuan unleashed their lightness arts, darting through the rain toward freedom.
Ordinary guards could never stop them.
But just as they reached the edge of the compound, a deep voice rang out:
"Who dares trespass into my Falling Rain Hall? Leave your lives here!"
A palm strike thundered through the air, its power so vast it drove the rain itself sideways beneath its force.
(End of chapter)
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