Chapter Thirty-Three: Farewell, Divine Radiance

Li Chongyuan and Du Xin quickly stripped off the red brocade robes from the men, changed into them themselves, and tossed the bodies into the bushes. The two of them were already strikingly handsome; dressed in red, they looked even more extraordinary and graceful. Disguised as stewards, they entered the rear courtyard to search. Most of the stewards of the main sect were in the front hall at this hour, leaving few people behind. As they searched, a middle-aged steward emerged from a room. Seeing no one around, Li Chongjun immediately subdued him, dragged him inside, and demanded, “A month ago, a woman was abducted and brought here. Do you know where she’s being held?” The steward replied indignantly, “Who are you to act so brazenly at the Immortal Crane Sect’s headquarters? Do you have a death wish?”

Du Xin, growing impatient, pressed his hand down on the man’s shoulder. The steward instantly felt a crushing force, as if Mount Tai had come down upon him, compressing his organs painfully. Li Chongjun quickly struck his mute acupoint, silencing him. Moments later, the man’s face turned waxen and sweat poured from him like rain. When Li Chongjun finally released the acupoint, the man gasped, “Spare me, noble hero, spare me!” Du Xin barked, “Answer my questions. If you leave out so much as half a truth, you’ll die where you stand!” Terrified, the man stammered, “Ask what you wish, I’ll tell you everything. I wouldn’t dare deceive you.”

Li Chongjun pressed, “Where is the woman you abducted last month being held?” The man looked confused. “You must be mistaken, sir. This is the headquarters of the Immortal Crane Sect, not a bandit’s den. How could we possibly be hiding an abducted woman here?” Du Xin tightened his grip, and the steward’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Li Chongjun, prepared, struck his mute acupoint again, stifling the cry in his throat. The man trembled with pain, unable to make a sound. Once released, he wailed, “There’s no one here but stewards and guardians. No outsiders have come. I truly know nothing about any woman!”

“Nonsense!” Du Xin snapped. “You’re a steward here—how could anything in this temple escape your notice?” The man sobbed, “You give me too much credit, sir. I was originally just an incense-burning Daoist here. When the Immortal Crane Sect took over, those who wished to stay put on red robes and became stewards, while those who refused... well, they vanished mysteriously. I’m timid by nature—I stayed and became a steward, doing menial work like sweeping the grounds and cleaning the golden statues. The real leaders here are the Holy Envoy and the four guardians.”

Li Chongjun asked, “The four guardians—are they White Snake, Ghost Sword, Shinguangzi, and Venomous Guanyin?” The man nodded. “Exactly. But even the four guardians answer to the Holy Envoy, who serves directly under the sect leader and governs all affairs by his command.” Li Chongjun continued, “Are White Snake and Ghost Sword here now?” The man replied, “They left half a year ago and haven’t returned. I don’t know where they went or what they’re doing.” Li Chongjun was disappointed. He pressed on, “Where is Shinguangzi now?” The man said, “Shinguangzi left half a year ago as well, but returned suddenly a month ago in the middle of the night. I happened to be on night duty and saw that the lord was exhausted and the people with him were in disarray. I dared not inquire. He didn’t bring any women—if anything, he came back with fewer people. Since then, he’s kept to himself.”

Du Xin demanded, “Who is this Holy Envoy?” The man explained, “The Holy Envoy is called the Master of the Celestial Way, greatly trusted by the sect leader. He appears to be a cultured middle-aged scholar, but he’s very capable. The four guardians are proud and unruly, but even they obey him absolutely. However, the Holy Envoy has been away these past few days, likely meeting the sect leader in person. Now, all matters are reported to Guardian Venomous Guanyin. Speaking of which, Venomous Guanyin is always surrounded by female attendants. Since you’re searching for a woman, perhaps you should ask her.” Li Chongjun sneered, “You think mentioning Venomous Guanyin will frighten us? Where is she now?” The man answered, “All four guardians live in the pine forest at the back, around a small lake. I’ve told you everything I know, please spare me.”

Du Xin nodded, then struck the man’s back with his palm, killing him instantly, and hid the body in the rafters. They then headed straight for the pine forest.

The gate of the foremost courtyard was tightly shut, with two old men sweeping leaves at the entrance. At the backmost courtyard, a group of strikingly dressed girls laughed and played at the door, chatting in a strange tongue with bright, cheerful faces. Li Chongjun recognized their Miao garb—they were Venomous Guanyin’s attendants. The westernmost residence was also closed. As he pondered where to begin the search, the main door suddenly opened and a man in gray strode out. Li Chongjun recognized him as one of Shinguangzi’s men from the battle in the bamboo forest. This must be Shinguangzi’s dwelling.

Exchanging a glance with Du Xin, the two silently leapt atop the wall. The courtyard inside was neat and silent. Du Xin whispered, “Brother, keep watch on the roof. I’ll check if Sister Zilan is inside.” With that, he slipped into the main hall.

Suddenly, voices drifted from a side room: “The guardian is badly wounded this time. Don’t let that venomous woman find out.” Another replied, “Of course. We even bought medicine three hundred miles away in Yongcheng so she wouldn’t suspect. But Shenguizi’s disappearance is puzzling. Do you think the guardian—” The first man snapped, “Don’t say such things! If you’re overheard, you’ll lose your head.”

Without warning, Du Xin burst in. The two men, caught off guard, were easily dealt with—one fell to Du Xin’s palm, the other attacked but was quickly silenced by a swift series of moves that left him bleeding on the floor, dying.

Having finished with them, Du Xin hurried through the front hall toward the inner quarters. As he entered the back courtyard, a sudden wind whooshed by. Du Xin dodged and retaliated with a kick, but his opponent was remarkably fast, slipping aside with ease. Before him stood a man in white robes, holding a jade-green flute, his expression proud and severe. “Who are you, daring to trespass in my sanctuary?” he demanded.

Du Xin didn’t bother with conversation; he launched at him with the Wind and Thunder Palm, raining blows like a storm. The man’s lightness skill was exceptional, narrowly dodging each strike. Growing impatient, Du Xin feigned an opening. The man fell for it, reaching for his chest, but Du Xin channeled his internal force and met him head-on. Their palms collided, both retreated three steps. Du Xin felt his blood surge, but the man’s face turned ashen, blood trickling from his lips.

At that moment, Li Chongjun leapt down from the roof, laughing, “So it’s an old acquaintance. Guardian Shinguangzi, how have you been?” It was indeed Shinguangzi, who, after being injured by Li Chongjun in the bamboo forest, had retreated here to recuperate. His men, hearing the commotion, rushed over with weapons drawn. Some recognized Li Chongjun but dared not approach.

Shinguangzi’s lightness skill far surpassed Du Xin’s, but in terms of martial strength, they were evenly matched. Their full-force exchange had aggravated Shinguangzi’s old injuries. Seeing Li Chongjun appear, Shinguangzi was alarmed but masked it with bravado, shouting, “You fools dare cause trouble in our headquarters? I’ll invite the spirit of Vajra Bodhisattva to descend and deal with you!” He began chanting incantations.

Li Chongjun sighed inwardly: Shinguangzi had great potential, but was too fond of theatrics—he invested all his effort in flashy lightness skills, neglecting real martial training. What good is lightness skill if your martial moves are lacking? You’ll only be good at running away. He calculated that Du Xin could hold off Shinguangzi, so he slipped into the rear quarters to search for Zilan. The onlookers shouted, but none dared block his way.

Completing his invocation, Shinguangzi’s eyes shone with a fierce light as he swung his jade flute at Du Xin, who responded by drawing his sword. Though Du Xin was not yet skilled enough to wield the Tianshan Sword Style, among the younger disciples of the Tianshan Sect, his martial prowess was outstanding. He had mastered the Snowfall Sword Style to perfection—his blade moved neither straight nor curved, spinning unpredictably like snowflakes in the wind, its light enveloping more than a dozen acupoints on Shinguangzi’s chest.

Shinguangzi wielded his jade flute with impressive internal force. While most martial artists could make the heavy seem light, he made the light seem heavy—his flute, insubstantial as it seemed, became a thousand-pound iron cudgel in his hands, the whirling force of his swings stinging the faces of those nearby. His followers began chanting: “Guardian Shinguangzi’s divine skills are unmatched! The spirit descends, the heavens and earth change color, stars fall, rivers reverse, mountains collapse, walls tumble…”

After a dozen exchanges, Shinguangzi, weakened by his injuries, began to flag. Du Xin seized the moment, shouted, and brought his sword down with a crisp ring—Shinguangzi’s flute was sliced short. Du Xin closed in, his Wind and Thunder Palm struck; Shinguangzi barely managed to parry but was driven back several steps, spitting blood. Just as the crowd was chanting, “That wretch is doomed to cough blood and die!” they stopped abruptly in fright and rushed to support him.

Du Xin laughed, “A fine song indeed! I enjoyed it thoroughly. If only there’d been some drums and strings to accompany it.” He then pointed at Shinguangzi and teased, “You’re so skilled in lightness arts and fight with a jade flute, yet you invoked the spirit of mighty, heavy Vajra Bodhisattva. No wonder you lost! You called upon the wrong spirit!” And he laughed heartily.