Chapter Sixty-Three: The Fox and the Hunter

Lu Liao waved her hand lightly, putting a stop to Lu Jiu’s furious outburst.

“Kill everyone here without leaving a trace, then lead your men to wipe out the Four Seas Trading Company’s caravan as well. As for the so-called Thirteen Riders of the Flying Eagle, and all their sworn brothers, you’ll naturally bring them under your command. In the blink of an eye, you, old fox, will become a Tang dynasty general wielding great power. Advance or retreat, the choice will be yours. The threats from the Four Seas Trading Company will mean nothing—and you’ll even win yourself a dainty little beauty. Old fox, your schemes are indeed as beautiful as you imagine.”

“Ginger gets spicier with age, little fox—haven’t you heard?” Hua Lin stroked his beard with pride.

“Is the youth of a pugilist so easily overlooked? Have you forgotten me?” Lu Liao pointed at his own nose in protest.

“As for your swordsmanship, it’s no worse than that of my second-in-command, the Gray Eagle. But you still lack a bit of seasoning,” Hua Lin replied, pulling an ordinary broadsword from behind his chair and rising to his feet, stretching lazily.

“Your old arms and legs, and that sickly look—can you still handle that big blade?” Lu Liao cocked his head, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“It’s been years since I wielded this old companion; I wonder if it’s still as nimble as before.” Before Hua Lin’s voice faded, his wrist flicked, and the broadsword flashed, slicing toward Lu Liao with lightning speed.

Almost at the same instant, Lu Liao’s Qiushui sword swept toward Hua Lin like a gusting wind.

Clang! The sword and the blade collided with a speed that defied the eye. Hua Lin stood his ground without so much as swaying. Lu Liao, on the other hand, slid nearly to the doorway before coming to a halt.

He inspected the edge of the Qiushui sword—no damage. Only then did he look at Hua Lin with reluctance and mutter, “Old thing, you do have brute strength.”

Hua Lin gripped his blade with one hand and placed the other behind his back, exuding the air of a true master. He gazed at Lu Liao with proud defiance. “From birth I possessed great strength. Since I first took up the sword, all who have faced me have been cut in two. You think the title ‘Sick Tiger’ comes easy?”

“I’m still alive and well, not a hair out of place—so what are you boasting about?” Lu Liao sneered, and with a twist of his body launched himself at Hua Lin once more.

Blade and sword clashed in a thunderous, relentless rhythm, their shadows darting so quickly that only afterimages could be seen—their true forms lost to the eye.

With a sharp metallic ring, the Qiushui sword flew high out of Lu Liao’s hand, while a spray of blood burst from his arm.

“Ah! Ah!” Lu Jiu and Xiao Ningjiao cried out in shock at almost the same moment.

A smug smile flickered across Hua Lin’s face, only to freeze instantly. He’d hoped to strike a fatal blow with Lu Liao’s weapon lost and his arm wounded, but just then, pain stabbed through his chest and all strength seemed to drain from his body.

With effort, his hand clutched the nearly invisible blade—Lu Liao’s Chengying Sword. Hua Lin gave a bitter smile. “Who would have thought I, Hua Lin, would fall by the Chengying Sword at last.”

As Hua Lin’s head slumped lifelessly, Lu Liao quietly drew out the sword, saying nothing. He let the man who’d been his mightiest opponent since leaving the mountain sink softly to the floor. Had he not carried the hidden, formless Chengying Sword, it might have been his own body lying there.

The hall fell into a deathly silence. Though these bandits of the greenwood were accustomed to killing, they respected heroes of great skill. Now that Lu Liao had slain the Sick Tiger Hua Lin, scourge of the northwest for decades, they looked at him not with admiration but with fear—reminded of the mysterious Five Poisons Sect venom they’d unwittingly swallowed.

Lu Jiu folded her arms, brow furrowed, tapping her fingers against her arm. Her cold gaze shifted to Lu Liao, and she beckoned him over with a curl of her finger.

Lu Liao, weary and dazed, walked to her, only to receive a heavy punch in the gut from Lu Jiu. Before he could react, she glared at him, eyes wide, and unleashed a torrent of scolding.

Lu Liao couldn’t be bothered to listen to her curses and replied feebly, “I’ve discovered that not only are you a real woman now—you’re a real shrew among women.”

With a sharp slap, Lu Jiu struck Lu Liao’s wounded arm, causing him to cry out in pain.

Xiao Ningjiao felt his heart clench. He thought to himself, “My brother-in-law can toy with these fearsome horse bandits as he pleases—even slay the Sick Tiger Hua Lin, the greatest master in the northwest, in a single stroke. So awe-inspiring, so invincible. But faced with a beautiful woman, he’s utterly helpless. Should I really emulate him?”

“Are you insane?” Lu Liao glared at Lu Jiu, fuming.

Lu Jiu kept her face cold and raised an eyebrow, ignoring him.

Like a ghost, Zhou Liuzi slipped in from outside, glanced at the three corpses on the ground, and looked calmly at Lu Liao, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

“All taken care of?” Lu Liao asked in a low voice.

Zhou Liuzi surveyed the surroundings. “All their subordinates—including the inn’s staff—are tied up.”

“Zhou Liuzi, you’re impressive, most capable. I’ll see you well rewarded,” Lu Jiu said with satisfaction, then turned to Xiao Ningjiao. “And you, young as you are, have done well.”

Expressionless, Zhou Liuzi replied, “I only followed the young master’s orders.”

With that, Zhou Liuzi subtly rejected Lu Jiu’s attempt to win him over, while Xiao Ningjiao merely pouted and smiled faintly.

“I’ll tend to my wound and get some rest. As for the rest, do as you see fit,” Lu Liao said offhandedly to Lu Jiu before leaving alone.

For Lu Jiu, the rest was easily managed. But when Hua Erniang eagerly presented the location of Hua Lin’s treasure, Lu Jiu’s spirits soared.

Late at night, under the protection of Zhou Liuzi and Xiao Ningjiao, Lu Jiu finally sauntered back to her room. She saw Lu Liao, clutching his long sword, dozing by the doorpost. Lu Jiu waved for the others to withdraw.

Crouching before him, she saw his brow furrowed in sleep, lost in a deep slumber.

Lu Jiu slyly reached out with a finger, lifted his chin, and smiled triumphantly. “No matter how cunning a little fox you are, you can’t escape the hunter’s grasp.”

She opened the door, drank a cup of cooled tea, and was overcome with exhaustion. Too tired even to undress, Lu Jiu lay down and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

Some time in the night, Lu Jiu found breathing difficult in her dreams. Instinctively, she pushed at the heavy weight pressing down on her, but it wouldn’t budge. Dazed, she struggled to open her eyes.

That shameless, lecherous scoundrel Lu Liao was sprawled atop her, one hand groping at her chest. A cold sweat broke out all over Lu Jiu—without thinking, she slapped him hard across the face.

But her forceful blow was caught effortlessly by Lu Liao, whose red eyes and low growls frightened her so much she couldn’t even cry out, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.

She sat up drenched in sweat—only to find there was no trace of Lu Liao. It had all been a nightmare.

Face flushed, she sat dazed in bed for a long while, then gulped down a mouthful of cold tea, but nothing could extinguish the angry fire burning in her chest.

Opening the door, she saw Lu Liao curled up and sleeping soundly in the chill night air.

The cold brought her to her senses and calmed her anger. With a sigh, she fetched her own cloak, gently draped it over Lu Liao, secured the door, and finally rested easy.

Morning sunlight flooded the room. Lu Jiu woke again and realized the hour was late. After washing, she stepped out energetically to see Zhou Liuzi and Xiao Ningjiao standing sentinel on either side of the doorway.

“Where’s Lu Liao? I don’t see him,” Lu Jiu asked casually.

“The young master left early,” Zhou Liuzi replied, as impassive as ever.

“Heh! I saw him pick the finest horse in the stable at dawn and ride out the way we came. Most likely off to meet that beautiful Hu girl,” Xiao Ningjiao chimed in with a knowing grin.

“That wretched scoundrel—can’t he ever say a word before running off!” Lu Jiu slammed the doorframe in annoyance.

Zhou Liuzi handed her a porcelain vial. “Here’s the antidote. The young master said he leaves the fate of those people to you.”

Lu Jiu snatched the vial, gritting her teeth. “And did he say anything else?”

Zhou Liuzi, for once, allowed a smile. “The young master said, ‘In every heart, there’s a pair of wings—who doesn’t long to soar free, if only once?’ He’s gone ahead with Miss Emir, but he will return to see you.”

“Scoundrel!” Lu Jiu’s anger surged so fiercely her vision went black, and she nearly fainted.