Zhan Zhao Adventures - Chapter Two (Part II)

Chapter Two: The Curtain of Twilight (Part II)

Seeing the dire situation, the youth in yellow desperately sought refuge in the wing rooms of the inn. In his urgency, he tried several doors along the western corridor, only to find them all securely locked.

 

By now, a cacophony of noise erupted outside, accompanied by the shouting of soldiers, heavy footsteps, and the clashing of weapons. It seemed a thorough search had already begun.

 

Panic began to rise in the youth's chest. Suddenly, he spotted a small shack in the corner of the courtyard. Darting over, he gave the door a push and found it unlocked. He slipped inside immediately, closing the door behind him.

 

Glancing around, he found the room completely barren, offering no place to hide. A cold sweat broke out across his skin. As the commotion outside grew louder and closer, his desperation peaked. Lowering his head, he rolled beneath the large wooden bed.

 

The bed was massive, its heavy curtains hanging all the way to the floor. Though it was pitch-black underneath, there was a fair amount of space. The moment he crawled inside, he pressed himself tightly against the corner wall.

 

Suddenly, his foot brushed against something soft. His heart leaped into his throat—someone else was already hiding under the bed!

 

Before he could cry out, a hand shot out through the darkness, precisely covering his mouth with absolute accuracy. His entire body shuddered in terror. In his panic, he violently wrenched himself away.

 

The space beneath the bed was incredibly cramped. Although the mysterious hand was uncannily precise, it seemed to possess very little physical strength. With a hard twist, the youth managed to break free.

 

Never in a million years did he expect someone else to be hiding here. Just as he turned to see who it was, two icy fingers snapped onto the vital acupressure point at the back of his neck like a flash of lightning, holding the strike in reserve. A voice whispered in a hushed, barely audible tone, "Hush, don't make a sound."

 

The moment the words were spoken, the door to the wing room was kicked open with a loud bang. Several pairs of heavy boots marched into the room, pacing around and tossing things over as they searched. Soon, two blades thrust beneath the bed. Fortunately, the bed was wide enough that the blades missed the two hidden figures entirely.

 

"It’s pouring outside, but there isn't a single wet footprint in this room," a soldier noted. "It doesn't look like anyone came in here. No need to keep searching." Soon after, the heavy footsteps retreated, and the men left.

 

The youth in yellow couldn't help but feel a smug sense of pride, thinking that his flawless lightness skill was more than enough to fool these simple soldiers. But then he remembered the fingers still resting on his neck, and his blood ran cold again.

 

A long while passed, and the courtyard outside fell dead silent, as if everyone in the inn dared not breathe a single loud breath. Then, a fresh set of footsteps approached the room. The sound of leather boots squelching through the puddles carried an undeniable aura of authority.

 

After a tense silence, a voice asked slowly, "Have you found any clues regarding that man?" The voice was slightly hoarse but exceptionally deep and powerful. Beneath the bed, the youth in yellow couldn't help but shudder.

 

Another voice replied with utmost respect, "My Lord, the waiter in the inn recognized the man in the portrait. However, we have searched every corner of this place and found no sign of him. Perhaps the waiter was mistaken? Or perhaps the man already fled after committing the murders?"

 

The first man remained silent for a long time, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. "In my view, the men from the Cloud-Rising Manor inside the hall were not killed by him."

 

"How can you tell, My Lord?" the second man asked.

 

The first man explained calmly, "He has no grievances with the Cloud-Rising Manor, so why would he kill them for no reason? Given his current predicament, his priority must be to conceal his tracks and escape as quickly as possible. Why would he provoke a new enemy? Furthermore, didn't you notice that the dead suffered blade wounds, not sword wounds? Those wounds have a bluish tint, which means they likely came from the poisoned blades of the Tang Clan."

 

The second man asked, "But what business would the Tang Clan have here?"

 

The first man replied unhurriedly, "The Tang Clan has always operated on the principle of leaving others alone unless provoked. The Prince of Xiangyang’s Manor holds immense power, and there are Tang Clan disciples within our Jinshi Hall. At this moment, they are definitely not targeting us. The only thing I find suspicious is the short halberd that struck Mu Xiuquan."

 

"But I have already questioned Innkeeper Cai," the second man countered. "No one in the hall saw where that short halberd came from. It appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost from the heavens."

 

"The reason I am suspicious is precisely because the force behind that halberd was highly peculiar," the first man said.

 

"May I ask what concerns you, My Lord?"

 

The first man continued, "That short halberd is heavy, a family heirloom weapon belonging to Ge Yunfei. As the second master of the Cloud-Rising Manor, Mu Xiuquan was a first-rate martial artist. To throw a halberd and kill him, the strike had to be incredibly fast, requiring immense physical power. Yet, the halberd that struck Mu Xiuquan only penetrated three inches into his throat; it did not pierce all the way through. This clearly indicates that someone used deflecting, subtle force to kill him. To utilize such precise force requires martial arts that have reached absolute mastery. If that is the case, why go through the trouble instead of simply killing him with brute force?"

 

"Could it be that this person was intentionally concealing his martial arts style?" the second man suggested.

 

The first man fell silent for a moment before replying slowly, "Perhaps this person is simply no longer capable of exerting immense physical strength, and could only rely on subtle force to kill."

 

As the youth in yellow listened with bated breath, a realization flashed through his mind, but he couldn't quite grasp what it was.

 

The second man spoke again, "Does My Lord suspect that someone else was present besides the Tang Clan?"

 

The first man let out a cold grunt, his tone remaining measured. "Whether there is someone else cannot be concluded so quickly. You and I carry the strict orders of the Prince; we cannot be delayed by trivial matters. Capturing that man is our true objective. By my estimates, he cannot have gone far. The heavy rain has persisted for days, making the mountain paths treacherous. Furthermore, I have already requested the Prince to enforce a strict lockdown—all roads leading out of the city are cut off. The Prince's vanguard guards every single courier station. All horse markets have been closed as well. Even if he grew wings, he could not fly away!"

 

Hearing this, the youth in yellow felt a profound bitterness in his heart. The courier stations were sealed, and the main roads were blocked; how was he supposed to reach his destination? Moreover, with the livestock markets closed, he couldn't even purchase a horse to travel. His mind fell into utter disarray, causing him to miss the rest of their conversation. By the time he snapped out of it, the courtyard outside was a chaotic mess of shouting men and neighing horses, indicating that the soldiers were finally leaving.

 

After another long interval, the thunderous hoofbeats faded into the distance, merging with the howling storm. Eventually, everything fell dead silent save for the roaring wind and rain. A waiter muttered to himself as he walked over and locked the door to the room from the outside.

 

The youth could no longer contain himself. The moment the waiter walked away, he pulled his body back and launched himself forward like a bolt of lightning. He had already mentally calculated every possible angle of attack from the person behind him; even if it meant taking a hit, he refused to remain at another's mercy. Strangely, the hand that had been resting on his neck did not press down to stop him.

 

Once freed, the youth rolled out from beneath the bed. With a sharp outward snap of both hands, the wooden bed split silently into two pieces. Lowering his voice, he barked, "Who are you?!"

 

A figure slowly stood up from beside the splintered bed.

 

Amidst the swirling dust, his features were obscured, but one could faintly discern that he wore a black robe and held a wide bamboo conical hat in his left hand.

 

The youth froze. "It’s you?!"

 

Then, a calm, steady voice resonated through the room. "I apologize for the offense just now. It was born of absolute necessity. I hope the young master can find it in his heart to forgive me."

 

The youth in yellow took two steps back, completely deaf to the apology. Images were flashing vividly across his mind, playing out like a live performance.

 

Ge Yunfei's flying right halberd.

The blinding, lightning speed that made one's skin sting.

The calm, steady hand that deflected the blow effortlessly.

The hand gripping the halberd.

The black sleeve covering the arm.

The wide bamboo hat concealing most of the face.

Mu Xiuquan’s bulging eyes.

The right halberd lodged squarely in his throat.

 

He blinked hard. "It really is you?!"

 

As the dust settled, the man stood clearly before him. He was very young. His face was pale and thin, bearing a look of profound exhaustion and fatigue. Yet, despite his pallor and weariness, it could not hide the magnificent elegance beneath his sharp eyebrows and bright eyes. A sense of quiet composure and grace was subtly written into his refined features.

 

"Who are you?" the youth in yellow demanded, barely taking a breath between questions. "Were you the one who caught Ge Yunfei's ultimate flying halberd? Were you the one who killed Mu Xiuquan? Why are you hiding here too?"

 

The young man in black simply offered a refined, gentle smile.

 

"I am a person of no consequence; my name is truly not worth mentioning. However, you, young master, are clearly extraordinary. The legendary weapon 'Yin-Yang Han' rests in your hands, and your 'Graceful Swan' lightness skill is absolute perfection. I imagine you must share a deep connection with the Linglong Manor. Might I ask for your honorable name?"

 

Hearing such polite praise, the youth couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. For a moment, he was quite pleased with himself, completely oblivious to the fact that the man had completely sidestepped every single one of his questions.

 

"You actually know about the Yin-Yang Han? It seems that even if I didn't tell you, you'd figure it out sooner or later." His large eyes darted around. "I... my surname is Huo. You can call me Huo Xiaodi."

 

With a beaming smile, he scanned the man's face. "To tell you the honest truth, Huo Xiaodi isn't my real name. Alright, I've told you my name. What about yours? Who are you?"

 

Amused by his playful nature, a faint, relaxed smile emerged on the young man in black's face. "As expected, you have a deep history with the Huo family of Linglong Manor. Brother Huo, my surname is Zhan, and my given name is Rifei—and to be perfectly honest with you as well, that is also not my real name."