Chapter Seventy-Two: The Fall of the Eagle

Bai Yu was startled as well; he hadn’t expected this man named Mo Bai to move with such speed. Fortunately, though he was a notorious libertine, Bai Yu was exceedingly cautious by nature—especially after Guihai Yidao had warned him that this man possessed the legendary techniques of the Horse Prince. From the very start, Bai Yu had kept his guard up. Now, as he suddenly felt a chill against his neck, the threat became all too real.

Bai Yu thrust out a hand, reaching for Mo Bai’s palm. Mo Bai was instantly shocked—his arm seemed clamped by an unyielding iron talon, unable to advance even a fraction further. Looking up, he saw Bai Yu’s face wreathed in a mocking smile. “So, you dare close combat? You must have a death wish!”

Mo Bai replied with a slight smile, “The Great Eagle Claw is indeed formidable—but how long do you think you can hold me?” As he spoke, a surge of boundless spiritual energy erupted from his palm, vast as a rolling river.

With a startled cry, Bai Yu’s fingers were shaken loose. He watched in alarm as Mo Bai’s palm once again struck toward him. Bai Yu swept his arms wide and, like a great eagle, soared backward through the air. Mo Bai smiled serenely, tapped the ground lightly with one foot, and pursued Bai Yu’s form, the two of them circling and swooping through the sky like a pair of giant birds.

With a flick of his wrist, Bai Yu released more than seventy eagle feathers glowing with spiritual light, launching them straight at Mo Bai. In midair, Mo Bai shifted through several positions, then lifted his hand. A golden bell materialized in his palm. With a thunderous hum, the feathers were scattered and shattered before they could reach him.

Bai Yu frowned, gazing at the golden bell flickering in the sky, finally realizing the strength of his opponent. Still, prideful as ever, he refused to yield. “Hmph, don’t think that inheriting the true teachings of the Cold Monk and the Horse Prince will let you dominate the world. They may not even be a match for my master, Guihai Xin!” Bai Yu’s words were loaded with implication—he had already decided Mo Bai must be their disciple. But how could he possibly grasp the truth of Mo Bai’s identity?

Bai Yu’s brow smoothed as he opened his spiritual platform. The surrounding energies surged toward him like rivers to the sea—this was the Guihai Spirit Method, a technique created by Master Guihai Xin himself. “The Sea Embraces a Hundred Rivers!” Bai Yu shouted. With another flick of his hand, countless swords of spiritual energy shot toward Mo Bai, each one seemingly backed by inexhaustible power. The whistling blades filled the night over Guihai City with an even deeper sense of mystery and foreboding.

“You think you alone can embrace a hundred rivers?” Mo Bai pressed his palms together, and a dazzling burst of spiritual energy radiated outward, forming a vast shield. The air was filled with a crackling sound as Mo Bai’s spiritual array clashed with the very air, blocking Bai Yu’s attempt to draw power to himself.

Bai Yu felt an immense pressure bearing down on him, his signature red mark between his brows beginning to blur. Gritting his teeth, he formed a complex seal with one hand. Suddenly, in the midst of colliding energies, there was a piercing cry—a great hawk shot forth, diving straight for Mo Bai. Without pausing his hand motions, Mo Bai continued to suppress Bai Yu’s gathering of spiritual energy. Just as the hawk’s talons were about to rake Mo Bai’s face, he let out a sharp command. The hawk screamed in agony and was shattered to pieces. At the same moment, Mo Bai shook himself free from the encircling energies and, with a swift movement, pressed a finger to Bai Yu’s throat. Bai Yu’s face was filled with terror, but his life was spared.

He felt a sudden soreness in his throat and tried to speak, but no sound emerged. Mo Bai floated backward and turned to Nalan Xing’er. “Xing’er, as I promised, from this night onward, he will never speak again.”

Nalan Xing’er showed no surprise—she was all too familiar with Mo Bai’s nature. Whatever her brother Mo promised her, he always fulfilled. The girl yawned casually and stretched. “Brother Mo, I’m sleepy. Let’s go to bed.”

Such ambiguous words!

Mo Bai replied, “Alright.” Nalan Xing’er’s heart fluttered wildly like a startled fawn. If she truly spent the night with Brother Mo, what would happen? As the little enchantress let her imagination run wild, Mo Bai added, “Your dear Hua should have finished his conversation with Miss Gan by now. It’s your turn.”

“What?” The little enchantress looked utterly miserable.

The two of them drifted down from the cliff, leaving Bai Yu standing in confusion. He tried with all his might to speak, but not a word would come out. Had he lost? Bai Yu didn’t know, for he had not yet unleashed his most powerful spiritual techniques. Yet here he was, rendered mute in an instant.

“Young Master Bai, you are no match for him. You’ve been struck by Pen Acupoint Nun’s secret point-sealing technique. Without her own hand to unlock it, you will never speak again in this lifetime.” Suddenly, a man in golden robes appeared behind Bai Yu.

A cold sweat broke out across Bai Yu’s back as he stared in shock at the Four-Fingered Zither Sovereign. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. Panic gripped him. He gathered spiritual energy within, trying to force his acupoint open by sheer will.

The Zither Sovereign saw through his intent immediately. With a flick of his finger, he shot a current of spiritual energy that suppressed Bai Yu’s attempt. Noting Bai Yu’s astonished expression, he explained, “Don’t try to break through recklessly. If you’re not careful, you’ll lose your voice for good. I can hardly believe Mo Bai is so powerful—even Pen Acupoint Nun has passed her secret art to him. Who is he, truly?”

Bai Yu was growing frantic. Seeing the Zither Sovereign lost in thought over Mo Bai’s origins, he clasped his hands in salute and hurriedly flew from the Guihai Pavilion in search of his master.

Suddenly, Bai Yu felt an icy chill on his back. Before he could react, a sharp surge of spiritual energy struck him from behind. Pain exploded through him as he turned to see his assailant. “It’s you? Why?” he wondered—but he would never learn the answer. With a crash, Bai Yu collapsed to the ground. Perhaps he was the most aggrieved of all—he couldn’t even utter a sound in death.

“Reporting, chief steward—Young Master Bai!” Early in the morning, a servant pounded frantically on Li Tong’s door.

Chief Steward Li Tong had worked late into the night before finally returning to his chambers during the fifth watch, only to be ensnared by his concubine for half the night. By now, Li Tong was utterly spent. He roared, “Damn you, making such a racket at dawn! Didn’t the master say Second Young Master and Steward Wang would handle today’s matters? Can’t you let me sleep?” Even as he spoke, he pinched his concubine’s fair leg hard, eliciting a coquettish moan as she entwined herself around his solid body.

Li Tong rolled over, pinning her beneath him, and buried his face in her chest. Seeing her trembling, her delicate flesh already stiffening, he was overcome with excitement. His concubine’s charms were truly exceptional. Remembering her forceful displays that morning, Li Tong felt his spirits revive considerably.

Listening to the laughter and moans inside, the servant outside grew even more irritated. He shouted, “Young Master Bai Yu was found dead on the path from Guihai Pavilion to the inner residence, Chief Steward!”

Li Tong finally heard the words clearly. That one sentence was enough to leave him impotent for half a year. If, after the Spiritual Tournament, Guihai City became the new Guihai Sect, Bai Yu would have been the sect’s chief disciple—a position of immense importance. Now that Bai Yu was dead, how could Li Tong not be terrified? His concubine tried to cling to him, but he slapped her across the chest. The impact made her shudder, but brought no excitement—only pain. “Wretch, don’t you know what’s happened? Damn it, hurry up and find my clothes. Where are my undergarments? These are yours!” The room descended into chaos.

Old Master Guihai Xin’s face was dark as thunder. The Spiritual Tournament had not even begun, yet his chief disciple was already dead. This cast a shadow not only over the tournament but the entire city.

“Li Tong, what is going on?” Guihai Xin demanded angrily. After all, it had been Li Tong who escorted the last guests out the previous night, and it was his servant who discovered Bai Yu’s body in the morning.

Li Tong dropped to his knees with a thud, trembling. “Master, I only learned of Young Master Bai’s death this morning from the servants. I have no knowledge of what happened.”

Guihai Xin closed his aged eyes once more, as if falling into a deep sleep. Guihai Rong’an understood his father was leaving the matter to him. He shot Li Tong a look. “Steward Li, how many years have you served our family?”

Li Tong answered at once, “Thirteen years.”

Guihai Rong’an nodded. “Then you watched Bai Yu grow up, didn’t you? Do you know why he died?”

Li Tong was no fool—he owed his position to his wits. “Though I am the chief steward, I am useless in the arts of spiritual cultivation. Young Master Bai was a master cultivator—if he was killed, it must have been by someone even stronger.”

“Then was he killed by an assassin, or in a direct confrontation?” Guihai Rong’an pressed.

Li Tong shuddered. “I dare not speculate, but…”

“No need to mince words,” Guihai Rong’an interrupted.

Li Tong replied cautiously, “Young Master Bai had a fondness for women. Just yesterday, he specifically asked me about the backgrounds of several ladies attending the tournament.”

A glimmer flickered in Guihai Rong’an’s eyes, as though he had found a crucial clue.