The national teacher’s aura was still there, really.
Behind the blacksmith shop, there was a small courtyard where the blacksmith’s tools were kept, along with a few low side rooms.
When this area around the City God Temple was thriving, Blacksmith Wang’s father-in-law had partitioned off part of the courtyard and rented it out to itinerant merchants or people from the countryside coming to the market, letting them stay overnight. It was cheaper than an inn and cleaner than the large shared beds in the laborer inns.
The side rooms were low and small, with a brick platform against the wall that was neither quite a kang nor a bed—a big earthen mound.
Wooden boards were placed on top, with quilts in winter and mats in summer, which worked quite well.
The only problem was that it was so small and cramped that a grown man could hardly turn over, having to lie flat and still.
Moreover, with the blacksmith shop’s forge in front, the courtyard wasn’t cold in winter but was unbearable in summer. Therefore, Blacksmith Wang lived in the shop alone, while his wife and children stayed in their country house.
—These shortcomings were not a problem in Mo Li’s eyes.
Sitting cross-legged and meditating didn’t require much space. As a martial arts master, he wasn’t afraid of the cold or heat, and the windowless, pitch-black house was perfect for him to take a bath!
Taking advantage of the fact that the swordsman and Meng Qi were both out, Mo Li borrowed a wooden bucket from Blacksmith Wang. He didn’t need hot water and simply drew water from the well in the courtyard to bring into the house.
A fish cannot change its nature.
A simple wash would suffice; just having water was enough to satisfy Mo Li.
The well water was very cold. After washing once, Mo Li couldn’t resist putting on clothes and fetching more water to soak in the wooden bucket.
In such hot weather, he should be at the bottom of the water.
While soaking, Mo Li heard noises from the front of the blacksmith shop—the swordsman had returned.
Mo Li half-opened his eyes, looking lazy and not wanting to move.
Who would have thought that right after that, he would hear Meng Qi’s voice? Now, even if he didn’t want to, he had to get up. Mo Li slowly grabbed the edge of the bucket, climbed out, and used his internal energy to evaporate the water droplets from his body, reluctantly beginning to get dressed.
The clothes were newly “bought.”
They had sneaked back into the city in the middle of the night, and Meng Qi had directly broken into a clothing shop, left silver coins, and taken two sets of clothes that fit.
Extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures, and Mo Li didn’t object, except that the clothes Meng Qi took weren’t quite to his liking.
Scholar’s attire with a Confucian cap and robe, possibly chosen for good luck to achieve success in the imperial exams, with golden osmanthus embroidered on the cuffs and collar, and osmanthus branches on the robe’s pattern. Mo Li had never worn such “floral” clothing in his life, and his entire aura changed, as if he had transformed from a hermit into a promising young man.
The only thing missing from being a romantic scholar was a folding fan.
Mo Li tugged at his sleeve, helplessly walking out.
He ran into Meng Qi head-on, who was wearing the same scholar’s robe with golden osmanthus patterns.
According to Meng Qi, in another two months, it would be the autumn provincial exams, and they would have to go to the prefectural capital to take the exams. At that time, it was common to encounter returning scholars on the road, and ordinary people and soldiers wouldn’t be too suspicious of such unfamiliar faces.
Nonsense!
Mo Li thought that with Meng Qi’s face, wearing such flashy clothes, even his internal energy used to suppress his presence wouldn’t help.
He was bound to attract attention wherever he went.
Meng Qi smiled as he entered, and when he noticed the trace of lingering moisture at the tips of Mo Li’s hair, his smile suddenly carried a hint of regret.
—He wanted to see scales! He wanted to see the scales on Mo Li’s back and chest when he bathed!
Just the brief glimpse from last time was enough to fuel Meng Qi’s imagination.
Mo Li: “…”
Someone’s heart was pounding like a drum.
“Ahem, it’s hot, I’m feeling a bit irritable.” Meng Qi turned his head.
He was carrying three stacks of paper-wrapped bundles tied with thin strings, containing lotus flower cakes, red bean rolls, and sesame sticks.
These were the best three pastries from the pastry shop in Run County.
As soon as they were spread out, the smell of fried lotus flower cakes filled the air.
The swordsman, who was just about to ask the “master” to repair his knife, suddenly realized that ever since they had discovered the dead soldiers’ bodies in the rice shop at the abandoned temple yesterday morning, and then tracked the whereabouts of the account books, had the misfortune of encountering Meng Qi, Mo Li, and the old monk Yuan Zhi, he hadn’t eaten anything!
He was starving to the point where his stomach was sticking to his back.
As a man of the Jianghu, especially a killer, going a day and a night without food was normal.
The downside was that when he smelled food, and there was no danger around, the hunger surged like a flood breaking a dam, overwhelming him.
The swordsman felt his clothes—empty.
So the question arose, how could he shamelessly ask for food?
“Master…”
“Call me Blacksmith Wang; if someone hears it, there will be trouble.”
Blacksmith Wang kept a stern face, trying hard to maintain the image of a proud master smith, which was exhausting.
After all, he saw through it—Meng Qi wouldn’t expose him, but he wouldn’t help him either.
To save his life, Blacksmith Wang had no choice but to continue playing the master smith in front of the swordsman.
“What is it?”
“Can I borrow some copper coins?”
The swordsman said this in a cold and hard tone, catching Blacksmith Wang by surprise.
The swordsman’s entire body was tense, exuding a murderous aura—this was not borrowing money; it was clearly a robbery.
Meng Qi, trying to avoid Mo Li’s scrutinizing gaze, was looking around and almost burst out laughing when he saw this scene.
The guy they picked up from Piaoping Pavilion was a real character. When borrowing money, he tensed every muscle in his body, his expression ferocious—what, was he afraid of being refused, or did he need to do this to muster the courage to ask for money?
Mo Li’s lips curved slightly. Speaking of which, after meeting Meng Qi, quite a few people had traveled with them along the way.
The one who stayed the longest was Lu Min. When it came to thick skin, this Second Prince’s was thicker than a city wall’s turn. If it were Lu Min here today, he would definitely feign ignorance and shove a lotus cake into his mouth.
As for the swordsman, his skin was probably thinner than the rice paper wrapping around the sesame sticks.
“How much do you need?” Blacksmith Wang asked with a deadpan face.
If he could use money to get rid of someone, he’d give ten strings of coins.
At that moment, the sound of a brawl came from outside the shop. Passersby scattered in all directions, and a few of them rushed into the blacksmith shop, interrupting the swordsman’s plan to borrow money.
“What’s going on?” Blacksmith Wang instinctively grabbed a hammer and peered outside.
The people who had taken refuge inside explained in a panic, “The city gates are sealed, and no one is allowed to leave. Someone started a fight with the constables!”
“What?”
Those trapped in the city and eager to leave were all part of trading caravans, but typically, caravans wouldn’t clash with the authorities. Only those from the Jianghu, with their unruly nature, would come and go as they pleased. Especially those who prided themselves on their martial arts prowess, they wouldn’t care about any government orders, toppling barriers and attacking anyone in their way without mercy.
Blacksmith Wang began to worry. He couldn’t figure out the origins of Meng Qi and his companions, nor could he tell if trouble was coming his way.
While he was watching the chaos on the street, he suddenly felt a strong force from behind.
Blacksmith Wang stumbled and fell near the blacksmith’s forge, his hair and beard instantly singed by the sparks.
With a dull thud, a small, blue-tipped arrow embedded itself in the spot where Blacksmith Wang had been standing.
The one who pushed Blacksmith Wang was the swordsman, who had drawn his sword and leaped out of the shop.
The sniper who had shot the arrow was hidden in the crowd, perfectly positioned. The sound of the arrow piercing the air was drowned out by the noise on the street. Unfortunately, the swordsman standing next to Blacksmith Wang was a master who knew nothing but practicing swordsmanship and killing.
“Splash!”
Meng Qi swung the wooden bucket from the well, dousing Blacksmith Wang’s head and face with water.
The fire was out, but part of Blacksmith Wang’s hair and beard had been burned to a charred black.
The passersby who had taken refuge in the blacksmith shop now realized something was wrong and screamed in unison, quickly fleeing. One of them, an older woman with a cloth wrapped around her head, tripped over the threshold and struggled to get up.
“Aunt Liu?”
Blacksmith Wang suddenly recognized her as a neighbor. Still in shock, he feared she might hurt herself from the fall, so he rushed to help.
“Clang—Snap!”
Two sounds almost merged into one. Blacksmith Wang felt as if he were soaring through the air, and when his heels finally touched the ground, he found himself standing in the back courtyard. The old neighbor he had intended to help, Aunt Liu, who had been selling needles and sachets on this street for five years, was holding a sharp dagger.
The tip of the dagger was gone.
Aunt Liu had stealthily drawn the dagger when Blacksmith Wang approached, using her prone position to conceal her movement.
Just as she was about to drive the dagger into Blacksmith Wang’s abdomen as he helped her up, a flying sesame stick struck, knocking her hand off course and snapping the dagger’s tip. The two almost simultaneous sounds were from the dagger tip breaking and hitting the doorframe.
The one who threw the sesame stick was Meng Qi.
He pressed Blacksmith Wang’s shoulder and swiftly moved them both five feet back into the courtyard.
Realizing she had missed, Aunt Liu let out a fierce shriek, and suddenly, a dozen skilled fighters disguised as ordinary townsfolk vaulted over the wall, firing a volley of poisoned arrows into the courtyard.
Mo Li’s eyes flashed as he took hold of Blacksmith Wang, retreating quickly into the side room.
With the burden gone, Meng Qi flicked his sleeve, and his internal energy surged. The arrows veered off course, scattering into the courtyard walls and ground.
The archers, seeing their failure, didn’t panic and simultaneously jumped down from the courtyard wall.
Blacksmith Wang stood there, dumbfounded, watching the battle unfold in the courtyard.
The attackers, including Aunt Liu, consisted of both men and women, all with strange martial skills and movements that were as swift as demons. As they fought, they would suddenly bend at the waist or slide forward, kicking out with razor-sharp blades hidden in their boots.
They even vaguely formed a formation, working together to surround Meng Qi.
“What…what sect are they from? Are these masters from a foreign land?”
Blacksmith Wang was uncertain because these people only had slightly higher noses, looking like merchants from the northern regions, with normal hair and eye colors.
Mo Li kicked the bathtub filled with water inside the room, infusing it with internal energy. The tub, carrying the weight of a thousand pounds, crashed into the wall.
With a thunderous crash, the wall of the side room facing the alley collapsed entirely. Those who had been preparing to light and throw firecrackers and explosive tubes behind the wall were crushed, their heads bleeding, and the spilled water soaked the unlit black powder thoroughly.
Blacksmith Wang was dumbstruck.
Mo Li, with his keen hearing, had sensed something wrong through the wall, while those attempting the ambush thought that Mo Li and the others were distracted by the masters who had leaped into the courtyard.
Although there weren’t many explosive tubes, they were enough to destroy a side room, making it especially dangerous since Blacksmith Wang had been so terrified that he was pressed against the wall.
“Smart people are easily outsmarted by other smart people because what I can think of, they can think of too.”
These were Meng Qi’s exact words.
Mo Li’s choice to stay in this side room was certainly not by chance; beneath this room was a cellar.
The attackers’ true target, beyond just killing, was to destroy the body of Li Zhubo that lay in the cellar.
“Go!”
Unlike Meng Qi, Mo Li would at least give a heads-up when using his lightness skill while carrying someone.
Thus, Blacksmith Wang felt dizzy again, like he was soaring through the clouds, and when he landed, he found himself face to face with the scarred, ashen, and twisted visage of the swordsman.
Although the swordsman had trusted Meng Qi and Mo Li enough to leave Blacksmith Wang behind to chase the person throwing concealed weapons in the crowd, he now felt like he had fallen for a decoy strategy. A group of people had immediately swarmed the blacksmith shop, making the swordsman, a professional killer, lose face.
“Take him with you. You head to Blacksmith Wang’s country house,” Mo Li said, frowning.
Initially, he thought Piaoping Pavilion might only be waiting at the blacksmith shop to deal with the swordsman, given that Blacksmith Wang was just a fake master smith with little connection to the swordsman, who might only have come looking for him on a whim. But now, after all this commotion, if Piaoping Pavilion considered Blacksmith Wang’s wife and children as leverage, they might very well act against them.
Mo Li pushed Blacksmith Wang towards the swordsman and turned back to the blacksmith shop.
He extinguished the forge with a single palm strike, then stepped into the courtyard, where he saw the dozen or so experts, who seemed to have inherited martial arts from the Western Liang Kingdom, circling around Meng Qi in a frenzied dance like exorcists, spinning rapidly.
Amidst the swirling afterimages were ruthless killing moves.
The unfamiliar martial arts techniques made it difficult for Mo Li to intervene at first. Just as he gripped his bladeless sword, ready to disrupt their formation, a flash of purple light suddenly appeared.
The sword blade reflected the afterimages.
Its movement was as swift as a startled swan.
Meng Qi’s body suddenly rose, his outstretched sleeves shielding the sun, soaring like a majestic eagle riding the wind.
The rapidly rotating afterimages around him paused for a moment, unable to shift to a defensive stance before being shattered by the startled-swan sword technique.
Still in midair, Meng Qi seemingly stepped on empty air, taking dozens of steps, each one landing on the bizarre weapons of the Western Liang Kingdom experts. His internal energy caused the weapons beneath his feet to skew, clashing into each other with a cacophony of metallic sounds.
“One perceives illusions and, among all things, falsely sees substance, like seeing flowers in the sky…”
Meng Qi’s last step landed on someone’s back. Though the person had already tried to dodge, the disruption in their formation after switching from offense to defense made it seem as if they had delivered themselves right under Meng Qi’s foot.
“…Realize that this perception does not arise from the root, nor is it born from emptiness.”
Meng Qi spoke each word deliberately, and with every utterance, someone cried out in pain and retreated.
The attackers repeatedly formed their formation, struggling to resist, their killing moves and body techniques becoming even more bizarre. However, Meng Qi’s soft sword moved like a breeze, weaving through the afterimages.
The long wind shattered the green glass, and countless duckweeds gathered with the wind.
To Meng Qi, the encircling formation below was nothing more than a lake. To the Western Liang experts, they were like duckweed on the water, desperately trying to cover everything but being drawn into a fight that grew more daunting by the moment. The formation was flawless, so why were they suddenly being driven back?
What terrified them even more was that Meng Qi’s words were the exact source of their martial arts.
In the end, Meng Qi’s steps landed precisely on their shoulders, backs, and wrists, leaving their weapons scattered on the ground. With a casual flick of his sword, they all involuntarily followed the “rotation and flow.”
“Heh, when the monks of Mojie Temple turned the Lankavatara Sutra into martial arts, creating the Thirteen Demonic Forms of Ego, I witnessed this ‘Flower of Emptiness Formation’ in the capital of Western Liang. You all aren’t even one-third as good as the monks of Mojie Temple, yet you dare show off in front of me?”
By the time Meng Qi finished his last sentence, he finally landed.
He twirled his sword, and the courtyard, except for Mo Li, was devoid of anyone still standing.
The sun shone on his golden osmanthus robe, making it gleam brilliantly.
Mo Li thought for a moment, then silently began to clap.
Good formation, good swordsmanship.
The author has something to say:
Mo Li: That was impressive; I’ll give a little praise.
————
Author: Ahem, my input method almost turned “good swordsmanship” into “good keyboard and mouse.”
