King of Hundred Victories Saber

He took out Yang Yinglong’s marshal seal and the seized military registers. ”These material proofs are enough to clear our name.”

Lan Xiaodie had arrived at some unknown moment. Her beautiful eyes glimmered as she drew a jade box from her bosom. ”My Five Poison Sect has a ’Soul-Seeking Gu’ that can track a scent to find the one pulling the strings behind the scenes.” She lifted the lid; three golden silkworm gu beat their wings, eager to fly. ”Only, we’ll need someone to slip into the Ming Army Camp.”

”I’ll go!” Shi Xiong gripped the White Rainbow Treasure Sword, his young face flushing crimson. But Xie Wen pressed a hand to his shoulder. ”Better that I take the falcon. Those hidden sentries of the Jinyi Guard can’t fool this little fellow’s eyes.”

The falcon seemed almost human in its understanding, spreading its wings to alight on his shoulder, its sharp gaze as if already piercing the night.

Three days later, when rumors were raging through the Jianghu, Shi Feiyang swaggered up to the gates of Bozhou City with the heroes of the Heroic Sakura Association in tow.

He held Yang Yinglong’s marshal seal in his hand, and behind him followed a convoy of carts laden with foodstuffs and weapons, each cart flying a bright military roster.

On the city tower, Li Changgeng and the others watched this scene, their faces darker than the bottom of a pot.

”General Guo, will you open the gate so we may talk?” Shi Feiyang’s voice rang clear; the sound waves driven by the Bright Jade Technique made the bronze studs on the city gate hum. Guo Dunyi’s hand, clutching the city defense map, trembled slightly as he suddenly recalled the bloody battle at Hailong Duntun, that lone figure of Shi Feiyang standing against charging fire-oxen to save the common folk. Just then, Xie Wen appeared on the ramparts like a wraith, hauling a black-clad man wrapped round by golden silkworm gu—one of Lv Yuan’s trusted men sent to spread the rumors. ”Gentlemen,” Xie Wen shook the confession in his hand, the falcon on his shoulder crying out in smug delight, ”Isn’t it time to drop the curtain on this play?”

Shi Feiyang gazed at the panicked faces upon the tower and slowly pushed out both palms in the opening stance of the ”Hundred Victories Saber Technique.”

Golden saber energy and icy-blue True Qi intertwined, reflecting under the moonlight the broken shadow of the character ”侠” (heroic knight). ”I, Shi Feiyang, am unashamed before Heaven and Earth, unashamed before all living souls. If anyone dares again to stir up storms...”

His eyes swept over the trembling folding fan in Li Changgeng’s hand. ”My saber will not mind drinking a few more drops of treacherous blood!”

That night, carrier pigeons loosed by Xie Wen cut through the sky, bearing secret letters that clarified the truth, flying toward Wudang, Shaolin, and other sects. In this contest between reputation and justice, Shi Feiyang, with wisdom and courage, won a splendid bout for the Heroic Sakura Association.

Shi Feiyang’s public exposure of the Imperial Court’s plot was like a boulder hurled into a placid lake, raising furious waves in both Jianghu and court, profoundly altering the balance of forces on all sides. Wudang Songhe Daoist personally penned a letter praising him as ”a man of heroic liver and righteous gall, bringing glory to the Martial Arts world,” while Master Xuan Ku of Shaolin also chanted sutras before the Buddha to pray for him.

The major sects all dispatched envoys to befriend him. Under the banner of the Heroic Sakura Association, more Jianghu men of honor gathered, its strength expanding rapidly until it became the undisputed leading power of the Jianghu, every move sufficient to sway its course.

The schemes of Li Changgeng, Lv Yuan, and the others were laid bare, causing an uproar in the court.

The Emperor, in draconic fury, issued an edict replacing the Commander of the Imperial Guard.

Shi Feiyang knew well the danger of a great tree catching the wind, yet he always held all living beings in his heart. His righteous deeds spread far among the common folk.

Across the land, people spontaneously organized to provide food and supplies for the Heroic Sakura Association. Some able-bodied youths even came forward, asking to join.

Certain local powers that had previously watched from the sidelines, upon seeing Shi Feiyang’s strength and prestige, began to recalibrate their stance.

Some secretly allied with the Heroic Sakura Association, hoping to carve out a share when the tide of events shifted in the future; others maneuvered more cautiously between the Imperial Court and the Jianghu, seeking only their own survival.

Dawn in Miaojiang: thin mist like gauze coiled around scattered bamboo houses, dewdrops rolling along emerald leaves, refracting prismatic light.

The autumn wind of the Ningxia Salt Field carried grit, staining Xue Qiuchun’s silver-threaded embroidered skirt a desolate yellow.

She stood atop a mound of salt, watching the setting sun melt the bronze whistle into liquid gold, half-dazed as she again saw that man brandish his blade, blood-beads flying, congealing in memory into cinnabar that would never fade. The salt crystals at her waist rustled with each breath, heavier even than the beating of her heart.

”Young Master, the fast horse to Bozhou is ready.” The female disciple’s voice shattered her trance.

Xue Qiuchun suddenly clenched the reins, her knuckles white as frost on salt. The bay-red horse neighed, trampling to pieces the saline gleam spread across the ground.

She knew that this sixteen-hundred-li road of wind and sand was merely the journey toward a madness whose ending had long since been written.

At dusk, the sky over Feima Pass was as thick as blood, soaking Yun Wuyue’s gravestone into jet-black ink. When Xue Qiuchun stumbled to her knees before the grave, the soles of her embroidered shoes had already been worn through by shards of stone; silver threads drooping from the hem of her peony dress snagged on dead twigs, just like her heart, riddled with wounds.

”Brother Shi...” Xue Qiuchun’s trembling fingers brushed the carved characters on the stone, her voice scattering into salt grains on the wind. ”Do you know that through six hundred days and nights, I have counted every crystal of the Salt Field while I waited for you? When salt grains fall into my eyes, they sting like tears, yet I dare not close them, afraid of missing the sound of your returning hooves...” Behind her came familiar footsteps, the soft crack of dead leaves under boots pounding upon her heart like a heavy hammer.

Xue Qiuchun whirled around, and tears burst forth in a flood.

Shi Feiyang’s dark fitted garb was veiled in travel dust, the chill of the Celestial Frost Blade casting his features in sharper relief, more searing to the eye than in her memory. ”Why have you come?” His voice held a thin edge of icy surprise.

”Why should I not come?” Xue Qiuchun suddenly flung herself into his arms, casting aside all the reserve of a Jianghu maiden. She clutched desperately at Shi Feiyang’s lapels like a drowning soul grasping the last bit of driftwood. ”Ever since you left, the wind in Ningxia has tasted bitter! The salt we boil has a tang of blood; I can’t even taste a hint of briny savor!” She lifted her face, tears trembling on her lashes and falling in a cascade. ”I know that between you and Guo Xiangyu, your bond is strong as gold, but my heart is not a block of salt—neither frozen stiff nor shattered by blows!”