Wuxia: Become the 100-Victory Sword King at the Beginning

Chapter 353. A jade-like figure flutters, breaking through the formation; a flash of mysterious light captivates the soul.

Even at the fourth watch of the night, the candles in "Hongli's" residence were still lit.

Shi Feiyang inserted a poplar leaf into the Zizhi Tongjian.

Outside the window, the stone lions of the East Palace Gate cast long shadows in the moonlight, much like the white tiger crouching in front of the Northwest Branch.

Shi Feiyang stroked the three characters "The People Are the Most Important" on the page, a resolute glint in his glassy eyes—once he ascended to the throne, he would ensure that this land would never again see the blood and tears of Tu Yanfei. The copper bells on the eaves rang softly again, this time, it was a genuine night breeze.

Shi Feiyang blew out the candle, letting the moonlight cast his shadow on the dragon pillar.

He knew that from this night onward, the "Xiang Tiange" of the martial arts world was dead, and the "Hongli" of the Forbidden City was bringing the moonlight of the martial arts world into this unfathomable imperial family. Under the nourishment of the Mingyu Gong, he would remain forever eighteen years old, forever protecting this vast land and the common people.

As Shi Feiyang pulled the covers over himself and closed his eyes to rest, he secretly vowed that once he ascended the throne, he would increase the population of the vast land to four hundred million. The night watchman's drum sounded, and the palace lanterns swayed gently in the cold wind, casting flickering light on the frost flowers on the window paper.

Shi Feiyang lay on the dragon-carved couch, the brocade quilt barely covering his chest, his glassy eyes gleaming in the darkness.

As he listened to the distant footsteps of the watchman receding into the distance, he suddenly recalled the cold nights at the Northwest branch—the warmth he shared with his brothers around the fire was far more comforting than this dragon bed covered in fur.

The wooden door creaked softly, carrying a faint scent of magnolia. Shi Feiyang closed his eyes, feigning sleep, but simultaneously heightened all his senses.

The newcomer's footsteps were extremely light, and their subtle movements even subtly aligned with the eight trigrams, clearly indicating they were specially trained palace guards. Their embroidered shoes made a soft, rustling sound on the gold bricks, and Shi Feiyang caught a whiff of ambergris mingled with the scent of their robes—a privilege reserved only for palace maids who served closely attentively.

"Your Highness, please be careful not to catch a cold." A gentle voice, as soft as spring water, rang in my ears.

Shi Feiyang slowly opened his eyes and saw a palace maid holding a silver candlestick, kneeling in front of the bed.

Bathed in the dim glow of the palace lanterns, she wore a moon-white cheongsam embroidered with pale blue magnolia flowers, with gold thread embroidered on the collar and cuffs, and a hair ornament decorated with pearls that swayed gently with each step she took.

The girl was about sixteen or seventeen years old. Her skin was as white as snow, her eyebrows were like distant mountains, her eyes were as clear as autumn water, her nose was straight, and her lips were naturally red without any makeup. She was truly a beauty that could topple kingdoms.

Shi Feiyang's gaze swept over the jade hairpin tucked diagonally into her temple. It was made of mutton fat jade from Jiangnan, with exquisite and lifelike carving.

"Thank you for your concern, Aunt." He deliberately softened his voice, with the languidness unique to young men. "It's late at night, and the dew is heavy. You should rest early too." During the conversation, he secretly activated his Mingyu Gong and saw his own reflection in the other person's pupils—in those clear eyes, besides respect, there was also a hint of barely perceptible inquiry.

The palace maid bowed her head in greeting, revealing a section of her fair and slender neck.

Shi Feiyang noticed the faint blue veins behind her ears throbbing slightly, and was shocked: this was clearly a sign that she had cultivated superior internal energy!

As he pondered, the girl suddenly looked up, her fingertips lightly brushing against the stray hairs on his forehead: "Your Highness's forehead is hot; should we summon the imperial physician?" Her fingers carried a faint orchid fragrance, but the instant they touched his skin, Shi Feiyang skillfully deflected this subtle probing. "It's alright." Shi Feiyang grasped her wrist, seemingly casually but actually with hidden strength.

The girl's pupils suddenly contracted, but she still maintained her gentle smile.

The instant their skin touched, Shi Feiyang activated his Mingyu Gong and discovered that the other's internal energy was like a babbling brook. Although it was not deep, it was extremely pure and clearly came from a prestigious sect.

"What is your name, Aunt?" He released his hand, the faint warmth still lingering on his fingertips. "My name is Ruoyao." The palace maid took a half step back, lowered her eyes, and bowed respectfully. "It is my honor to serve Your Highness."

As she turned, Shi Feiyang noticed that her toes were slightly turned inward as she walked—a sign that she had practiced the Wudang lightness skill "Ladder Cloud Leap." Alarm bells rang in his mind: the people Yongzheng had sent to monitor him weren't just from the Sticky Pole Office!
Ruoyao added silver-threaded charcoal to the brazier, the firelight making her profile appear even more delicate. Shi Feiyang gazed at her slender back, recalling Tu Yanfei's sword dance atop Mount Hua. Both possessed a hidden sharpness within their gentle beauty, but one lived in the martial world, the other in the inner palace.

“Aunt Ruoyao, do you know,” he suddenly said, “that the nights in the Forbidden City are more biting than the desert winds.” The copper tongs in the maid’s hand trembled slightly, then returned to normal: “Your Highness is of noble birth and is naturally protected by the gods.”

She turned around, the candlelight illuminating the tears in her eyes. "I've heard that the war in the Northwest is escalating, and Your Highness is working tirelessly every day..."

Before she could finish speaking, Shi Feiyang had already sat up, the brocade quilt slipping down to reveal his muscular chest. Ruoyao hurriedly lowered her head, but the tips of her ears turned red.

"The warriors of the Northwest are bleeding," Shi Feiyang murmured to himself, donning his fox fur coat and gazing at the eaves of the Forbidden City from the window. "How can I, the Prince, sleep peacefully?" He suddenly turned, his glassy eyes gleaming with an unusual light in the dim light. "Ruoyao," he said, "when will the people of this world be free from suffering?" The palace maid trembled, nearly dropping the candlestick in her hand. "Your Highness's concern for the world is truly a blessing for all people." She composed herself and slowly stepped forward to fasten his robes. "But your health is of utmost importance. If His Majesty knew of Your Highness's arduous journey..."

Shi Feiyang leaned close to her ear and whispered, "With Father Emperor here, we will ensure that every household in this vast land has food to eat and clothes to wear." Ruoyao looked at him with a mixture of fear and respect.

As the gong sounded at dawn, Ruoyao quietly left the palace. Shi Feiyang stared at her departing figure, his thoughts drifting to Yongzheng's gloomy face. Everyone in this deep palace was the Emperor's spy.

Ruoyao knelt on an embroidered stool in the side hall of the Imperial Household Department, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the mutton-fat jade hairpin at her temple.

This hairpin was a gift from her father when she entered the palace at the age of twelve. The warm jade color conceals the cloud pattern engraved in the style of Wudang Mountain—a mark of her being a lay disciple of Wudang, and also a shackle that she carried the mission of her family.

Twenty years ago, before Emperor Yongzheng ascended the throne, he made a secret agreement with Xuanzhenzi, the leader of the Wudang Sect. Ruoyao's father, as the lay master of the Wudang Sect, was chosen to send his daughter to the palace, ostensibly to serve the royal family, but in reality to cultivate a group of spies for the royal family to hide in the harem.

From the day she stepped into the palace, she learned court etiquette under the tutelage of the matrons, while practicing Wudang martial arts late at night. She mastered the Cloud Ladder Leap technique with lightness and silence, and her acupoint striking technique with lightning precision.

Three years ago, she was transferred to Yuqing Palace and became a first-class palace maid by Hongli's side.

This seemingly ordinary transfer order was actually the result of repeated deliberations between the Imperial Guard and Emperor Yongzheng. Ruoyao knew that she not only had to monitor Hongli's every move, but also had to become a hidden pawn to check and balance this fourth prince at crucial moments.

Every night, she would write down what she had seen and heard that day in secret letters, hide them in the lining of her embroidered clothes, and have them secretly delivered to the Imperial Household Department by an old eunuch.

At this moment, recalling her confrontation with Shi Feiyang last night, Ruoyao still felt lingering fear. That seemingly unintentional touch was actually a silent battle of internal energy. She could feel the chill emanating from his palm; it was a strange and unfamiliar technique, yet it contained a powerful internal force.

What shocked her even more was that Shi Feiyang was able to sense that she possessed martial arts skills, something that had never happened before in her career serving the royal family.

Ruoyao took out a secret letter hidden in the dressing table's hidden compartment and wrote with a cinnabar pen: "Hongli seems to have noticed the surveillance, and his martial arts style is strange and unpredictable."

After hesitating for a moment, she added, "Judging from his words and actions, his ambition to serve the world is not unfounded." After sealing the letter, she looked at herself in the bronze mirror, and the inner conflict deepened.

She had seen too many princes of the royal family in their extravagance and debauchery, but she had never seen a prince like Shi Feiyang who cared for the common people.

Those vows about ensuring the well-being of hundreds of millions of people did not seem like falsehoods; on the contrary, they reminded her of the Wudang Sect's mission of "helping the world and saving people."

Late at night, Ruoyao stood under the eaves of Yuqing Palace, gazing at the starry sky. In the distance, the sound of the night watchman's clapper could be heard, startling an owl.

Shi Feiyang clenched his fists so tightly that his nails almost dug into his palms: before he sat on that dragon throne, he not only had to play the role of a perfect "Hongli," but also become a wolf lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike a fatal blow.

Outside the window, the morning star illuminated the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City.

Shi Feiyang donned a brocade robe and gazed at his reflection in the bronze mirror—a face identical to the real Hongli, yet now revealing the fortitude of a chivalrous hero and the political scheming of an emperor.

After the morning court session, Shi Feiyang opened the "Zizhi Tongjian" in his study in Yuqing Palace. The candlelight cast his shadow on the wall, which gradually overlapped with the dragon pattern on the bookshelf.

When Wei Nianhua, the commander of the Sticky Rod Office, demonstrated the Blood Droplet, Shi Feiyang, a master of Mingyu Kung Fu, deliberately appeared clumsy. However, he practiced the Thirty-Six Deadly Techniques until they were flawless late at night.

The blood-dripping guillotine, forged from cold iron, spun silently in his hand, much like the dog-beating stick of yesteryear. Three months later, at the hunting grounds, Shi Feiyang drew his bow and shot down two eagles. His uncle, Yunlu, clapped his hands and laughed, "My nephew Hongli's archery and horsemanship already bears the mark of the Taizu Emperor!"

He gazed at the distant mountains covered in vibrant autumn colors and suddenly thought of the poplar forest at the Northwest branch.

Fu Shouchuan is probably teaching his disciples swordsmanship right now, while I am here in this nine-layered palace, drinking imperial wine and learning the art of emperorship.

"Sir, this is a newly obtained secret report from the Sticky Rod Office." The little eunuch knelt down, holding a yellow silk scroll.

When Shi Feiyang unfolded it, the words "Beggar Gang Gathering" and "Red Flower Society's Unusual Movements" stung his eyes and made them burn.

However, Shi Feiyang did not make any statement, he merely glanced at it.

As the first rays of dawn pierced the clouds, Shi Feiyang adjusted his crown before the bronze mirror. The smile on the man's lips in the mirror was neither Shi Feiyang's unruliness nor Hongli's gentleness, but rather that of a new face about to overturn the martial world and the imperial court.

In the distance, the sounds of morning bells and evening drums drifted by. Shi Feiyang gazed at the white doves flying past the window and suddenly remembered the unopened red plum tree in front of Tu Yanfei's grave. Perhaps on the day he ascended the throne, the people of the world would be at peace, and this land stained with blood and intrigue would be the heaviest sacrifice he could offer to his beloved.

On the night of Frost's Descent, the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City were covered with a thin layer of frost. Lu Chenzhou clutched half a piece of blood-stained green bamboo shavings, his knuckles turning bluish-white in the candlelight.

The signal agreed upon three days ago via carrier pigeon had not appeared. Now, the words "Xiang Tiange sneaked into the palace at night, but has disappeared without a trace" on the secret letter on his desk made his pupils shrink sharply. "Someone!" Lu Chenzhou slammed his teacup down, "Quickly prepare fast horses and inform the Shandong, Jiangnan, and Northwest branches of the news of the gang leader's disappearance!"

On the shore of Taihu Lake, Zhou Weirou was teaching her young son to write characters. She had just written half a stroke of the character "天" (sky) on the Xuan paper when a white dove suddenly bumped into the bamboo curtain outside the window.

The moment she unfolded the letter, her hand holding the wolf-hair brush trembled violently, and the ink smeared into hideous black spots on the four characters "gang leader missing".

A maid came over and asked urgently, "Madam, why is your hand bleeding?" Zhou Weirou looked at the wound on her fingertip where the pen had pierced her, and vaguely remembered what Shi Feiyang had said when he taught her how to hold a sword: "The road of the martial world is long, and if you hold it too tightly, you will always draw blood."

Three days later, Zhou Weirou finally came to her senses.

In the Xiuchun Pavilion of the Shandong branch, Lin Ruoxue was discussing matters with the three branch leaders when the sound of pigeon whistles suddenly broke the rainy night.

Upon seeing Lu Chenzhou's urgent letter written in cinnabar, the soft sword at her waist was drawn three inches from its sheath with a clang.

"Prepare the boat!" Her usually gentle voice was now icy. "Even if we have to dig three feet into the ground, we must find the gang leader!" In the poplar forest of the Northwest desert, Fu Shouchuan stared at the incomplete dog-beating stick pattern on the sealing wax seal, then suddenly swung his knife and chopped off a tree trunk as thick as a bowl.

Amidst the flying wood chips, he recalled the way his master, Tu Yanfei, entrusted him with the Qingfeng Sword before his death: "Shouchuan, be like this sword, unyielding and unbreakable." Now, however, he roared at the vast Gobi Desert: "Chief! Will I not even be able to see you one last time?"

Inside the Red Flower Society headquarters, Yu Wanting crushed the bronze wine cup in his hand.

"Those eunuchs from the Sticky Rod Office!" The usually composed leader's veins bulged. "Master Wuchen, I implore you to lead your leaders to the capital immediately! Third Brother Zhao, Fourth Brother Wen, you take the Seven Red Flower Swords and blockade the main canal transport route!"

Master Wuchen brandished his longsword, his Taoist robe billowing like a sail: "If Xiang Tiange has truly fallen victim to this poison, this humble Taoist will surely make the Blood Droplets stain the capital with blood!"

Elder Peng knelt before the portraits of the past leaders of the Beggars' Sect, gazing at the plaque inscribed with "Righteousness Reaching the Heavens" by Shi Feiyang, tears streaming down his face.

Two years ago, he watched that young man, a newcomer to the Beggars' Sect, rise from a junior disciple to a renowned leader. "I'm so incompetent, brother!" he kowtowed heavily, his forehead bleeding from the impact with the blue bricks. "Leader, I didn't even get to see you one last time!"

On the Wanghai Cliff of the Liaodong branch, the old man Fan Jie stroked the pair of rusty iron palms at his waist, his turbid tears dripping onto the four characters "Giant Spirit Palm." Upon hearing the devastating news, this venerable elder, who had roamed the martial world for a century, suddenly threw his head back and laughed, his laughter filled with boundless sorrow: "Good! Good! My old friend who once fought alongside your son, the Mountain King Shi Tianyu, in the northern deserts, can finally meet me in the underworld!"

With that, the iron palm struck the ground, and the old man, leaning against an ancient pine tree, passed away peacefully, still clutching half a piece of dried beef in his hand—a specialty from the Northwest that Shi Feiyang had brought during his previous visit. Seven days later, the bells of Shaolin Temple on Mount Song resounded throughout the Central Plains.

Martial arts heroes gathered at Shaoshi Mountain. Elder Peng, dressed in a plain white robe, choked with emotion, and said, "From this day forward, I, Peng, swear that I will not shave my head of white hair until I find out the whereabouts of the gang leader and personally kill the traitors of the Sticky Pole Bureau!"

His white hair danced wildly in the wind, like a blood-stained battle flag.

Lin Ruoxue and Zhou Weirou built a thatched hut in the ancient tomb complex of Piaomiao Peak in Taihu Lake with their child.

Every moonlit night, they would set out three sets of bowls and chopsticks under the mahogany tree, offering one cup of wine to the heavens, one cup to the earth, and finally, pouring the last cup before the tombstone inscribed with the words "Song to the Heavens." The mountain wind swept across the sword marks on the tombstone, as if still echoing the voice of that boy with the glassy eyes, laughing and talking about the martial world.

Deep within the Forbidden City, Shi Feiyang gazed at Hongli's face in the bronze mirror, his fingertips tracing the intact deerskin pouch at his waist, his expression somewhat sorrowful.

On the day Elder Peng took up the Dog-Beating Stick, heroes from all factions gathered at the foot of Mount Song.

The setting sun, like blood, dyed his snow-white temples a dark red, and the half-bamboo stick in his hand was wrapped with black silk.

"Brothers!" His voice was old but firm, making the bronze bell of Shaolin Temple resound. "Although I am an old beggar, I will let the Beggars' Sect know that the Dog-Beating Stick of the Beggars' Sect is not to be trifled with!"

Three days later, in a secret room of the "Prosperous Inn" in the Imperial City, Lu Chenzhou unfolded the latest secret report, his finger heavily tracing the line "Flying Guillotine soldiers have appeared at the Tongzhou canal transport route." Elder Peng stroked the broken end of his dog-beating stick, a cold glint flashing in his turbid eyes: "Send a message to the Jiangnan branch, have Zhang Yi lead men to guard the canal transport route. Let's go and meet these eunuchs!"

The night fog at Tongzhou Wharf was as thick as ink. Elder Peng and thirty Beggar Clan disciples hid in the reeds.

Suddenly, lanterns and torches lit up, and more than twenty skilled guards from the Sticky Pole Bureau escorted three horse-drawn carriages at breakneck speed.

"Make your move!" Elder Peng was the first to leap up, unleashing the "poke" technique with his dog-beating stick. The bamboo shadow of "Sichuan Dogs Barking at the Sun" flashed like lightning towards the leader.

The sound of the flying guillotine piercing the air rang out suddenly, and a Beggar Clan disciple, unable to dodge in time, collapsed to the ground, blood spurting from his neck.

Elder Peng's eyes widened in fury as he unleashed his ultimate move, "No Dogs Under Heaven," causing the weapons of everyone at the Sticky Pole to fall from their hands amidst the swirling green shadows.

Suddenly, three hidden arrows shot from the shadows, aimed directly at his face, heart, and dantian. At the critical moment, a green shadow flashed past.

Fu Shouchuan, the Northwest Branch Leader, swung his sword to deflect the hidden weapon and hissed, "Chief Peng, be careful! They've laid an ambush!"

Before he finished speaking, hundreds of Qing soldiers suddenly surged out from all sides. The leading general sneered, "You filthy beggars, don't you know you've fallen into a trap? Hmph! Today is your death day!"

Elder Peng wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and slammed the dog-beating stick heavily on the ground: "Shouchuan, take the brothers and go first!"

He channeled all his inner strength, causing ripples to spread around his bamboo staff. "Even if this old beggar dies here today, I'll take a few of them down with me!" In the midst of the melee, Elder Peng caught a glimpse of the "Ministry of Works" printed on the carriage, and an idea struck him. He feinted a move to force back his enemies, then leaped onto the carriage. Lifting the tarpaulin, he found it filled with sulfur and saltpeter.

"Oh no! It's going to explode..." Before he could finish speaking, a sharp pain shot through his back as a flying dart was deeply embedded in his left shoulder.

Fu Shouchuan, his eyes bloodshot, charged in, wielding his sword to force back the enemy. He then saddled Elder Peng onto his horse, shouting, "Chief, let's go!" Elder Peng gritted his teeth, tore off a sleeve to bandage his wound, and yelled at the crowd, "Brothers, destroy this gunpowder!"

The Beggars' Sect disciples fought bravely and relentlessly against the Qing soldiers, and the canal was quickly stained red with blood.

When Elder Peng was rescued and brought back to the branch, he had been unconscious for three days and three nights.

When he woke up, he looked at Fu Shouchuan and Lu Chenzhou who were guarding his bedside and smiled bitterly: "I'm old, I'm useless now..."

He suddenly grabbed Fu Shouchuan's hand, "That batch of gunpowder...it must be related to a conspiracy by the imperial court. Go and inform the Red Flower Society immediately, and tell them..."

Before he could finish speaking, he coughed violently, his palms stained with blood.

Three days later, on his deathbed, Elder Peng handed the Dog-Beating Stick to Fu Shouchuan: "Shouchuan... lead the brothers... find out the truth behind the gang leader's disappearance..." As his last breath dissipated, his finger was still pointing firmly to the north, as if pointing to the secrets deep within the Forbidden City.

Fu Shouchuan knelt before Elder Peng's spirit tablet and kowtowed three times.

As he stood up, the grief in his eyes had turned into raging anger. Gazing at the dark, cloud-covered sky, he gripped the dog-beating stick tightly in his hand.

The night fog over the Tongzhou Canal was shrouded in the stench of blood, and Elder Liu's white hair danced wildly in the wind like a summoning banner.

The half of the dog-beating stick in his hand was wrapped in soaked black silk, and the broken bamboo joints were still covered with scabs from the fight the day before.

The Blood Droplets, commanded by the Sticky Pole Division, hummed and hovered three zhang away, their iron teeth reflecting the white eyes of the floating corpses on the river, gleaming with a sinister light. "The old beggar's dog-beating stick, specially for beating the royal mad dogs!" Elder Liu roared, shattering the night dew on the reed tips, his bamboo stick drawing the "poke" gesture of "dog eyes looking at people."

The chainmail of the Qing soldiers in the front row was pierced as thin as paper, causing them to spit blood from all seven orifices and fly backward.

The sound of the flying guillotine blades piercing the air suddenly intensified like a sudden downpour. Elder Liu spun around and unleashed the "Seal" technique, the jagged shadows of the staffs weaving into an impenetrable wall.

However, a cold arrow suddenly flew past his ear from the right. In the instant he turned his head to dodge it, he caught a glimpse of tinderboxes flickering in the reeds on the opposite bank—it turned out to be three hundred soldiers from the firearms battalion lined up, the dark muzzles of their muskets pointed directly at the Beggars' Gang.

"Scatter!" Elder Liu kicked the disciple next to him away, but he himself was pierced through the left shoulder by three crossbow bolts.

In excruciating pain, he bit his tongue, channeled his internal energy to reverse his meridians, and his palms shone with a burst of crystalline light.

The arrows that had pierced his body suddenly flew back, streaking with dark red blood and embedding themselves in the faces of the three Qing soldiers. The bamboo stick, following the momentum, unleashed a "splitting" technique, cleaving the charging assassin from the Sticky Pole Division in two at the waist, his intestines spilling out onto the ground.

Fu Shouchuan's Qingfeng sword transformed into a silver dragon in the night, as he grappled with four Blood Droplet masters. Elder Liu saw that Fu Shouchuan's clothes had been ripped open three inches long, revealing flesh and bone, and roared as he swung his Dog-Beating Stick.

The bamboo stick coiled around one of the men's necks like a serpent, and with a sudden tug, it twisted the man's head off.

Warm blood splattered on his face, mingling with the fishy smell of the canal. "Burn the gunpowder carts!" Elder Liu suddenly caught sight of Qing soldiers pushing carts loaded with sulfur and saltpeter toward the granary, and his pupils contracted sharply.

Ignoring the blood gushing from his shoulder, he unleashed the "No Dogs Under Heaven" technique.

Amidst the vast expanse of green shadows, more than ten Qing soldiers were shredded into pieces, their intestines hanging precariously from reeds. However, just as he approached the carriage, a chilling sensation suddenly ran down his back—the commander of the Sticky Pole Division had already locked his heart with a blood-dripping dart.

At the critical moment, Lu Chenzhou threw his abacus at the Blood Droplet, the sound of the abacus beads shattering startling him.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Elder Liu rolled over towards the carriage and pulled out a tinderbox from his pocket. "You dogs, you'll be buried with me!" he sneered as he threw the tinderbox into the carriage, only to see the Qing soldier commander slash the reins with his sword.

The out-of-control carriage raced wildly toward the canal. Elder Liu clung tightly to the pillar of the carriage and fell into the river along with the pile of gunpowder that was enough to flatten half a city.

As flames shot skyward from the water's surface, Fu Shouchuan stared at the surging, blood-red waves and let out a wolf-like howl.

In the night sky, half of the charred dog-beating stick, like a lone goose with broken wings, spun and fell into the turbid current, leaving behind only the screams rising and falling from the reeds and the densely packed corpses floating in the canal.

In the Forbidden City, the auspicious snow of the twelfth lunar month turned the glazed tiles white with frost.

Inside the Qianqing Palace, the scent of ambergris mingled with the fragrance of cinnabar and ink lingered.

Shi Feiyang, dressed in a four-clawed python robe, gazed at the imperial edict in vermilion ink on the imperial desk, which read, "The fourth prince, Hongli, is to be married immediately." His glassy eyes reflected the flickering candlelight.

The news of the Third Prince Hongshi being stripped of his imperial lineage had only been circulating for a month. At this moment, Emperor Yongzheng's hand, which was wielding the brush, was as steady as a rock, but it reminded Shi Feiyang of the hidden killing intent that martial arts masters concealed when they finished their moves.

"My son, do you know why I chose Lady Fucha as your consort?" Yongzheng suddenly put down his pen, stepped on the gold bricks with his dragon-patterned boots, and stood in front of him.

Shi Feiyang bowed his head in greeting, his peripheral vision catching a glimpse of the new Hetian jade pendant at the emperor's waist—a piece he had sent yesterday, carved with a design of two phoenixes facing the sun. "The Chahar governor's family is full of loyal martyrs, and the Fucha clan is virtuous and kind," Shi Feiyang said with just the right amount of humility. "Your Majesty is wise; this is a match made in heaven."

Yongzheng stroked his beard and laughed, his laughter so loud that icicles fell from the beams: "Good! What a match made in heaven!" His aged fingers suddenly gripped Shi Feiyang's wrist, his inner strength seemingly probing into his meridians. "Hongli, this empire will be yours sooner or later. But remember—the sharpest blade must be hidden in its sheath."

On the day of the wedding, red silk from the eaves of the Hall of Supreme Harmony hung down, as if the rosy clouds of the sky had fallen to earth.

As Shi Feiyang rode on his white jade horse, gazing at the phoenix coronet and embroidered robes faintly visible in the bridal sedan chair, he suddenly recalled the image of Tu Yanfei's wedding dress soaked in blood.

As the wedding procession reached the Meridian Gate, amidst the sounds of drums and music, Fucha's red veil was lifted by a jade ruyi, revealing a pair of bright, clear eyes.

"This humble servant greets Your Highness." Her voice was as melodious as a nightingale's song, and the pearl bracelet on her wrist jingled softly. "I hope Your Highness will guide me in the future."

Shi Feiyang grasped her slender hand and touched the thin calluses on her palm—marks left from years of practicing calligraphy and holding a brush, which were remarkably similar to the calluses on Tu Yanfei's sword practice.

Suddenly, a gust of wind tore through the air from three zhang away! Ruoyao, who had been standing with her hands at her sides among the palace maids, suddenly changed color. In the instant that blood flowers burst open on the chests of the twelve guards, the black shadow carrying the stench had already swept past the imperial steps.

Tian Luguang's "Whirlwind Blade Technique" was as swift as lightning. Wherever the blade went, the air emitted a sharp whistling sound, and the guards' steel swords were even shaken off!

Shi Feiyang grabbed Fucha and quickly retreated, using Mingyugong to protect himself, only to see the cold light already three inches away from her throat.

"You're courting death!" Ruoyao flicked her sword sheath, drawing the blade with a sound like a dragon's roar. The Wudang "Soul-Chasing, Life-Taking Sword" unleashed its seventy-two consecutive thrusts, the tip aimed directly at Tian Luguang's "Qimen" acupoint below his ribs. Tian Luguang's pupils contracted sharply, his blade abruptly changing direction. The two weapons clashed, sparks flying.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Shi Feiyang carried Fucha away quickly, only to see that although Fucha's face was pale, her fingertips were still tightly gripping the hem of her wedding dress—this composure even surpassed that of many military generals.

"Brother Hu, retreat!" Tian Luguang feinted with his sword, his voice like tearing silk. Hu Feizhong suddenly sprang up from behind a pillar, unleashing the "Thirteen Styles of Flying Sand and Stones," a gust of wind carrying sand and gravel that swept towards them. Two guards were unable to dodge in time, and half of their faces were instantly sliced ​​off, their brains mixed with blood splattering onto the red wedding veil.

Ruoyao lightly touched the ground with her toes, unleashing the "Ladder Cloud Leap" movement technique to its fullest extent. She moved like a white crane soaring through the air, her sword taking an unorthodox approach to strike Hu Fei directly in the back of the head.

Hu Feizhong turned to block, the blade clashing with the sword, producing a metallic clang.

Only then did he see Ruoyao's moves clearly, and he was filled with shock and anger: "You are actually a Wudang disciple!"

Ruoyao did not answer. She lightly trembled her jade wrist, and her sword move transformed into "Plum Blossoms in Winter," with seven sword flowers appearing at the tip of the sword.

Seizing an opening, Tian Luguang unleashed his deadly "Whirlwind Sweeps Away Clouds" attack once more, the blade's energy carving a three-foot-deep trench into the blue bricks of the ground.

Ruoyao's sword flashed, and she engaged the two in a fierce battle. Her "Soul-Chasing Deadly Sword" was already cunning and ruthless, and now, when she unleashed it, it was like a silver snake dancing wildly.

Although Tian Luguang's "Wild Wind Saber Technique" was fierce, it gradually lost ground under Ruoyao's continuous sword moves; Hu Feizhong's "Thirteen Forms of Flying Sand and Stones" raised up a sky full of sand and dust, but Ruoyao used the "Gentle Breeze" sword move to deflect them all.

"Kill! Protect Prince Bao!" the Imperial Guard commander roared.

Three hundred armed guards formed a circular formation, protecting Shi Feiyang and his companions in the center.

Seeing that the situation was not good, Tian Luguang took out a smoke bomb from his pocket and threw it.

In an instant, thick smoke billowed, and screams rose and fell. Ruoyao's sword moved like a dragon, darting left and right through the smoke, and any assassin who got close was struck in a pressure point and collapsed to the ground.

Commander Wei Nianhua of the Sticky Rod Division unleashed a double palm strike from a distance, the palm wind like a tidal wave, dispersing the smoke.

Just as Tian Luguang and Hu Feizhong were about to break through, they saw Ruoyao blocking their way like a ghost, her sword tip still dripping blood.

"The Wudang sword technique is indeed worthy of its reputation." Tian Luguang wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and suddenly laughed loudly. "But today's events are just a warning to the imperial court!" Before he finished speaking, he and Hu Feizhong suddenly used their lightness skills to dash off to the east and west respectively.

Upon seeing this, the fake guards from the Red Flower Society who had infiltrated the palace quickly drew their swords and stabbed Shi Feiyang to cover Tian Luguang and Hu Feizhong's escape.

Ruoyao was unwilling to let Tian Luguang and Hu Feizhong go, so she used her "Ladder Cloud Leap" to chase after them like a shadow.

As the assassin approached, Shi Feiyang remained calm. He watched the departing figure, a cold glint flashing in his glassy eyes.

He looked down at Lady Fucha in his arms and saw that although she was still in shock, she was trying to remain calm: "It's good that you are alright, Master."

Shi Feiyang's heart skipped a beat. He gently stroked her hair, which was soaked with cold sweat, and turned to the guard commander, saying, "Seal off the nine gates. We need to see her alive or dead!" A wail suddenly rose from the thick smoke, and Ruoyao's Qingfeng sword drew the first bloody mark.

She lightly touched the guard's shoulder with her toes, and with her "Wudang Cotton Palm," she shattered the collarbone of the assassin on the left from a distance, while the sword blade smoothly severed the tendons of the man on the right.

The stench of blood mixed with the smell of sulfur filled the nostrils, and then Wei Nianhua, the commander of the sticky rod, trampled the white marble bricks, and the farewell hook on his back was finally unsheathed.

This oddly shaped weapon, forged from cold iron, gleamed with a ghostly blue light, its hooked body winding like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.

Wei Nianhua unleashed a "Heart-Shattering Palm" with his left palm, the palm wind surging like an undercurrent, actually splitting the billowing smoke in two.

The moment the sunlight returned, Ruoyao saw that Tian Luguang's "Whirlwind Blade Technique" had stirred up three zhang of yellow sand, and Hu Feizhong's "Thirteen Styles of Flying Sand and Stones" was carrying gravel and pressing down on the guard formation where Shi Feiyang was.

Seeing that they couldn't break through the encirclement, the two decided to launch a counterattack and kill Shi Feiyang.

"You're courting death!" Wei Nianhua roared, and the parting hook flew out of his hand, drawing a strange arc in the air.

The hook tip precisely caught Hu Feizhong's wrist holding the knife, and with a "crack" of bone breaking, the hand holding the goose feather knife was forcibly torn from his body!

Hu Feizhong screamed and staggered backward, his blood gushing out like a fountain and staining the imperial steps red. Before he could even hit the ground, Ruoyao's sword tip was already pressed against his throat: "Why did the Red Flower Society attempt an assassination? Speak!" Seeing his companion in danger, Tian Luguang suddenly turned his blade, unleashing the deadly move "Whirlwind and Clouds" straight at Ruoyao's back.

Wei Nianhua sneered and used the "Gecko Wall-Climbing Skill" to glide along the ground, his farewell hook coiling around Tian Luguang's knife hilt like a nimble snake.

The two men's internal forces clashed, sparks flew everywhere, Tian Luguang's tiger's mouth was cracked, and his long sword fell to the ground with a clang.

"Commander Wei, what skill!" Tian Luguang wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, suddenly pulling out three bone-piercing nails from his robes, his voice laced with provocation: "But you're still a long way from saving my life!" The sound of the poisoned nails piercing the air was sharp and ear-piercing. Ruoyao spun around, using her "Soft Sword of Wrapped Finger" technique, the tassel of her sword catching two of the nails, but the third was aimed straight at Wei Nianhua's face. Wei Nianhua, the commander of the Sticky Rod Office, neither dodged nor evaded; his parting hook drew a crescent moon in the air, actually shredding the bone-piercing nail into dust.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Hu Feizhong used his lightness skill to leap up, but Wei Nianhua coldly said, "Once you enter the Forbidden City, how can you possibly leave unscathed?" The parting hook flew out of his hand, drawing a strange arc in the air, and accurately hooked Hu Feizhong's ankle.

Amidst screams, the Red Flower Society expert was lifted upside down, and with a slight flick of Wei Nianhua's wrist, the hook tip pierced his back. Warm blood flowed down the groove of the hook, meandering into a gruesome pattern on the blue bricks.

Tian Luguang's pupils shrank suddenly, and he bit his tongue, spitting out a mouthful of blood mist.

This is the "Blood Escape Technique" secretly passed down by the Red Flower Society, which uses the smell of blood to interfere with the opponent's five senses.

Ruoyao swung her sword, cleaving through the blood mist, only to see Tian Luguang already leaping onto the palace wall.

Wei Nianhua snorted coldly, and the parting hook flew out of his hand, leaving three afterimages in the air: "It is said that the masters of the Red Flower Society have unparalleled lightness skills in the world. Today, I will see for myself!" The hook shadows were like a bone-deep sore, sticking to Tian Luguang's back.

Seeing this, Ruoyao used "Ladder Cloud Leap" to follow closely behind.

The three chased each other on the eaves of the Forbidden City, the glazed tiles were shattered by the internal force, and the fragments fell like raindrops.

Tian Luguang suddenly turned around, a poisoned dagger appearing in his hand, and his deadly move, "Frosty Star Soul Stealing," aimed straight for Wei Nianhua's throat.

The commander of the Sticky Pole Division remained calm and composed, drawing a half-moon shape with his farewell hook. This seemingly ordinary move contained seventy-two variations. The hook tip grazed the dagger, then suddenly changed its move, hooking onto Tian Luguang's belt.

"It's time to say goodbye." Wei Nianhua exerted force with his wrist, and Tian Luguang was thrown upside down towards the palace wall.

The hard glazed brick shattered his skull, and his brains, mixed with blood, splattered on the wall, resembling a grotesque painting.

(End of this chapter)