Chapter Seven: Ruthless Killing

“People fear nothing more than a ruthless heart,” Bai Li Feihong sighed.

He did not save old Zhang Daniu. Not even a celestial immortal could have done so. Age and grave illness had drained his life to its dregs.

Dressed in dark, form-fitting attire, Bai Li Feihong kept a dagger tucked into his long boot.

“Huang Cuihua, Lady Zhang, Fuxiang, Huang Yuxuan…” These were all the names by which the mistress of the helm, Zhang Fu’s wife, was known. Once he had sorted out Huang Cuihua’s current identity, Bai Li Feihong found it more fitting to call her the Poisonous Woman.

“Headman Wang An once said that Lady Zhang kept many lovers, but her favorite was the scholar Zhang Anhua,” he murmured.

Zhang Anhua came from humble origins, handsome as a legendary beauty, and gifted with extraordinary talent. By sixteen, he had already earned the title of scholar.

“It’s true—men and women alike are drawn to youth and beauty.” Contempt filled Bai Li Feihong’s eyes.

He took the side roads, evading the constables, and made a detour toward Zhuque Street in the southern part of the city. There stood Tianya Academy.

Lady Zhang had bought a secluded residence there—a golden cage for her beloved—and it was no secret.

Zhang Fu, the man, was infamous for his lust for beauty, cunning nature, and patience. Old Zhang Daniu had not lied: back then, Zhang Fu married Fuxiang because among her admirers was the river transport guildmaster, Lang Fanhai.

Rumor had it that Zhang Fu, once a mere ship captain, rose to become one of the eight helmsmen of the river guild by doing one thing: on his wedding night, drunk, he let Lang Fanhai take his place.

Thus, the helm master acquired eight concubines. But not long ago, the eighth concubine died in childbirth.

“Word from the dockworkers is that tonight the helm master is marrying his eighth concubine once more.”

“What a pair, these husband and wife—they truly know how to play the game.”

Bai Li Feihong surmised that as the official wife, Fuxiang would never attend Zhang Fu’s grand wedding to a new concubine. The chance was high that she would slip away to her southern residence on Zhuque Street to visit her pretty-faced scholar.

The Zhang estate was heavily guarded, the guards armed with firearms. With his strength, breaking in would be suicide. So Bai Li Feihong gambled—he bet that Lady Zhang would go see her delicate scholar, Zhang Anhua.

“This residence is hidden well. Who would have thought Lady Zhang bought a villa right across from the Pleasure Pavilion?”

The place was tranquil, set a short distance from the bustling Zhuque Street. Willows lined the riverbank, a soothing contrast to the city’s clamor.

Bai Li Feihong lay in ambush atop the garden’s largest tree, his face wrapped in black cloth to hide his features.

The compound was expansive, its courtyards elegant, the rear garden open and serene. In the study, besides a young scholar reading, two elderly servants tended to the master’s daily needs.

He waited—how long, he could not tell—until movement at the entrance caught his attention. The rumble of carriage wheels drew him out of his reverie.

A maid arrived, driving a horse-drawn carriage. From it stepped a voluptuous woman in sumptuous silks. Under the lantern’s hazy glow, her stunning face was clearly visible, unspoiled by the passage of years.

Her every gesture exuded a noble, alluring grace. Each smile or frown was unmatched in beauty. Bai Li Feihong could not fathom how such a woman could have lost to Ji Xiaoqian.

Yet for all her dazzling looks, Fuxiang’s heart was as black as night—black and poisonous. Outward beauty did not guarantee inner virtue. The poppy flower was a fitting metaphor for this venomous woman.

Bai Li Feihong tore his gaze away from Fuxiang and scanned the surroundings, considering if this was the right moment to strike. He soon noticed the maid at the reins was no ordinary servant.

“Both maids are martial artists, their blood energy cultivated,” he thought. “First rank, at least.” It seemed Lady Zhang had invested heavily to train her personal maids as bodyguards.

“Sister Yuxuan, you’ve come! I’ve missed you terribly,” Zhang Anhua greeted Lady Zhang as she entered, his tone coy and cloying. The sound made Bai Li Feihong’s skin crawl.

A pretty boy, through and through. With his delicate features, dressed as a girl, Zhang Anhua would rival any beauty. Bai Li Feihong had never seen such a handsome man. He could not help but glance twice, then compare his own face—once thought handsome, now seeming coarse and plain.

“Sister has missed you too, dear Hua,” Lady Zhang replied, linking arms with him and leading him into the study, her manner relaxed and intimate.

Indecorous sounds soon followed, wave upon wave. One maid stood guard at the main gate, the other at the study door—diligent and loyal, but they only made Bai Li Feihong’s task harder.

“They cover each end. If either is attacked, a cry will alert the whole area. Troublesome indeed.”

As for the old servants, they had long since retired to their rooms and shut their doors, unwilling to meddle no matter the noise outside. Perhaps they too knew Lady Zhang’s true identity and dared not provoke her. Maybe these two old servants were placed by Fuxiang herself.

“Deal with the maid at the gate first, then move inside and take care of the one at the study door,” he planned.

The maids’ strength was far below his. As long as he struck quickly, this could work.

He moved without hesitation. From the tree’s crown, Bai Li Feihong sprang, branches bending under his weight. In two leaps, he closed in on the maid outside the gate.

“Who’s there?” The maid, named Xiaoling, frowned and drew her sword, ready to defend herself.

A shadow flashed before her, moving too fast to track. In an instant, it was upon her. Her sword darted out, its tip aimed at the intruder.

Dagger met blade—clang!

A crisp ring echoed as a powerful force knocked Xiaoling’s sword from her grasp.

“A fourth-rank martial artist?!” she gasped, her face draining of color. Such skill would make him a master on Prosperity Street.

Before she could defend herself again, the intruder’s rock-hard body slammed into her delicate frame, sending her flying.

“The Four Seas Stone Pillar stance!” she cried, blood spraying from her mouth as she was hurled several yards. She struggled to her feet, hatred blazing in her eyes as she stared at the masked figure. The name escaped her lips.

“You recognize my technique?” Bai Li Feihong was taken aback. But he steeled his heart, and with a flick of his wrist, sent his dagger flying into Xiaoling’s throat.

“I meant only to knock you out, but your loose tongue sealed your fate.” He retrieved the dagger, shaking his head. This was not his first time taking a life.

Street fighting was no child’s play. Brawls at the docks often ended in blood. The dead were tossed into the river, swept by the current out to sea.

With his bloodstained dagger, he broke the latch and strode through the gate openly. He pictured the layout around the study in his mind, crept through the backyard, and gathered his blood energy to hurl his dagger with all his might.

Whistle! The dagger, deadlier than a bullet, pierced straight through the second maid’s skull, then through the study door, embedding itself in the opposite wall.

Inside, the pair of illicit lovers were oblivious to the world. They did not notice anything amiss until Bai Li Feihong stood beside them.

He did not attack at once. Instead, curiosity drew him to a book. The vivid illustrations depicted bedroom secrets, causing him to shake his head—he truly was ignorant of such things. He had thought the scholar was diligent and studious, but it seemed his efforts were devoted to this craft.

“Huang Cuihua!” Bai Li Feihong suddenly called out.

Startled, Lady Zhang’s eyes blazed with fury as she glared at the man beneath her.

Raising his hand, Bai Li Feihong hurled his sword. The blade pierced Zhang Anhua’s back, driving through both their hearts. He set down the book, retrieved his dagger, and quietly left the study.