Blazing Ruge

Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Zhan Feng, nineteen years old. Wielding the "Heaven's Will" blade, his swordplay is ruthless. He is stoic and merciless. It is said that he began killing at the age of seventeen. Whether man or woman, young or old, anyone he deemed worthy of death met a gruesome end at his blade, cut in two with a single stroke. For the massacre at Duanlei Manor, the Volcano Manor has ordered Zhan Feng to step in and resolve the matter. The Blazing Fire of the Mortal Realm, the Dark River of the Underworld. With Anye Luo’s mysterious disappearance, the Dark River Palace seemed to vanish from the mortal realm. The Blazing Fire Manor had become the ruler of the martial world; its judgment was the martial world’s decree. No one could defy it. And Zhan Feng was about to make a judgment. Who killed Xie Houyou, the master of Duanlei Manor? Late at night. The City of No Swords. The plump Dao Wuhen toyed with his wine cup: “Zhan Feng must know that the judgment he makes could throw the martial world into chaos.” Dao Wuxia, clad in brocade robes, gently fanned himself with a paper fan, his smile flawless: “He is a very clever man.” Dao Wuhen said, “As the son of Zhan Feitian, he can’t be all that bad.” Dao Wuxia smiled faintly: “As Zhan Feitian’s son, he certainly cannot afford to make a mistake.” The two exchanged a knowing smile. Their smiles held an unspoken meaning. Dao Wuhen drained his cup: “Then we can rest easy.” Dao Wuxia fanned himself and chuckled: “Zhan Feng will undoubtedly make the most correct decision.” Early morning. Ruge opened the shop door and carried out a basket of steaming hot flatbreads. She glanced at the sky. Dark clouds hung low and heavy, as if rain were imminent. Perhaps because of the overcast sky, there was no sunlight, and the streets were nearly deserted, giving off a desolate feeling. Is autumn coming soon? She felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest, as if something bad were about to happen, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the strange feeling. But suddenly, she froze. It was as if two figures were emerging from the mist on the eastern side of the street. One in front, one behind. The man in front was about twenty-five years old. He carried a uniquely shaped ancient sword on his back; his face bore a hint of melancholy, yet his eyes sparkled with vitality. Ruge recognized him—he was Zhongli Wulei, a top-twenty assassin from the Blazing Mountain Manor. The young man behind him exuded a cold aura. Dressed in a blue cotton robe, his posture was stiff and upright; his dark, bluish curls fluttered gently in the morning breeze, and his dark eyes were cold and lonely. Ruge, of course, recognized him as well. Zhan Feng. A gloomy morning. Even the air seemed gray. Xueji Flatbread Shop. Ruge stood transfixed behind the steaming buns. A small white bird fluttered past. Zhan Feng— seemed not to see her. He walked right past her. Straight and indifferent, he walked past the basket of buns. The steam from the flatbreads fogged Ruge’s eyelashes; the white droplets made her eyes feel damp and cool. She clenched her fists and suddenly called out with a loud laugh: “Sir, would you like to buy some flatbreads? Ours are fragrant and crispy!” Why pretend not to see him? Since she had let go, what difference was there between him and an ordinary customer, or any passerby on the street? Here, she was just a flatbread seller; attracting customers was her most important task. Zhan Feng stopped. He hadn’t expected her to call out to him; he thought she hated him. But when he turned and looked into her clear eyes, he suddenly knew— She had already let him go. In her eyes, he was no different from the countless passersby—just someone she thought might buy a flatbread. Zhan Feng was cold. He lowered his gaze; the deep blue in his eyes remained hidden from view. He reached out, his fingers steady and firm, and picked up the top bun from the basket. It was hot, and his fingers trembled slightly. Ruge glanced at him. She asked with a smile, “Young Master, would you like me to wrap it for you?” Zhan Feng said nothing. He held the bun in the palm of his hand and continued walking;as if he had never stopped, and had never bought a flatbread at all. Yet, he kept holding that flatbread in the palm of his hand. The two figures vanished around the street corner. The sky was overcast. The morning breeze was cool. Ruge leaned against the wooden counter, closed her eyes, and felt a flurry of stars dancing in her head. Just then, Xue’s voice drifted over faintly: ““Silly girl, you forgot to collect the money.” Ruge thought for a moment, then burst out laughing: “Oh, right! I forgot!” Xue shook her head and sighed: “What a spendthrift! As punishment, you’ll sell scones all day today—no breaks allowed!” Ruge replied: “Yes!” Seeing her regain her energy, Xue couldn’t help but smile as well. Ruge gazed at his radiant smile, and a sudden wave of warmth washed over her. She blurted out: “Xue, thank you.” His white robe shone brightly, his smile even more so. Xue looked at her: “If you truly want to thank me, stay with me forever.” His eyes held a profound depth of emotion. Ruge stared at him in confusion, then suddenly sensed something was amiss. Two days later. The Lihuo Manor announced to the world— The person who murdered Xie Houyou was Cao Renqiu, the deputy head of the Duanlei Manor and Xie Houyou’s son-in-law. In order to seize the position of head of the manor, Cao Renqiu had been poisoning Xie Houyou’s food for a long time, which is why he was able to succeed so easily. Those who knew Cao Renqiu were all astonished. Cao Renqiu simply did not seem like the sort of man who would kill his own mentor and father-in-law; he always appeared so honest and kind-hearted. However, from the moment the announcement from Liehuo Manor was made, everyone in the martial arts world was convinced that Cao Renqiu was the one who had killed Xie Houyou. Because this conclusion had been reached by Liehuo Manor. No one would dare to doubt Liehuo Manor. Nor would anyone dare to question Liehuo Manor. Even if Xie Houyou himself were to come back to life and tell everyone that he wasn’t killed by Cao Renqiu, no one would believe him. The judgment of Lihuo Manor is always correct. That afternoon. The young man in plain clothes, Lei Jinghong, clapped his hands and laughed heartily: “Ha ha, it seems I really did underestimate Zhan Feng before!” Ruge pressed her lips together, staring at him. Xue gently wiped the crimson jade phoenix zither, polished to a mirror-like sheen, with a snow-white handkerchief. He hadn’t played the zither in a long time since arriving in Ping’an Town. He lowered his head and chuckled softly: “Lei Lang, Zhan Feng is by no means a brute.” Lei Jinghong leapt over and crouched beside Xue, grinning as he said: “That’s right. He actually thought to use Cao Renqiu as a scapegoat. This way, the Blazing Volcano Manor, the City Without Swords, and our Thunderclap Sect can all stay out of it. The martial world will remain at peace—achieving so much with so little effort. Truly brilliant!” Xue smiled faintly: “Yes, Zhan Feng made the right decision.” The right decision? Was it all just Zhan Feng’s decision? Ruge’s face turned pale as she fixed Lei Jinghong with a piercing gaze: “What about Cao Renqiu?” Lei Jinghong was startled by her expression: “What do you mean, Cao Renqiu?” “Was it really Cao Renqiu who killed Xie Houyou?” she asked in a low, stern voice. “Does Zhan Feng have any proof?” Why were they only concerned with who killing Xie Houyou would bring peace to the realm, and not whether the person they were pinning it on was actually the murderer? Lei Jinghong laughed as if she were a three-year-old child: “Ha ha, what a ridiculous question. Since Zhan Feng says Cao Renqiu is the murderer, he can naturally produce evidence—but who would dare to actually investigate that evidence? Heh heh, just look at the status of the Lihuo Manor!” “Then,” Ruge’s eyes shone with startling intensity, “since you don’t know the truth either, why are you spouting nonsense and accusing Zhan Feng of using Cao Renqiu as a scapegoat?!” Lei Jinghong’s eyes widened! This little girl from the Flower Tasting Pavilion, this young baker, was actually calling him a liar to his face! It was as if he were seeing Ruge for the very first time. She was furious; flames seemed to burn in her defiant eyes, and her vivid red robe fluttered fiercely. Her entire being resembled a blazing fire, and her intense, overwhelming presence left him momentarily stunned. Xue plucked the strings of her zither. The sound of the zither was like the rain that had suddenly begun to fall outside. Lei Jinghong said angrily, “Cao Renqiu was nothing but a scapegoat! I’d stake my life on it—the one who killed Xie Houyou must be the man known as ‘The Blade-less One’! It was only because Zhan Feng had to consider the interests of all parties that he pushed Cao Renqiu forward to die!” “You’re talking nonsense!” Ruge roared in anger. Lei Jinghong laughed bitterly: “What do you know, you stinking little baker’s daughter?! Ruling the martial arts world doesn’t depend on the truth, but on the demands of the situation! If it’s necessary for Cao Renqiu to be the murderer, then he must be the murderer!” Xue said softly, “Lei Lang, that’s enough.” Ruge trembled with rage: “As for this martial world you speak of, I’d rather do without it! If Cao Renqiu isn’t the murderer, no one has the right to frame him!” Lei Jinghong was, after all, young and hot-headed. Though he didn’t want to upset Xue, provoked by Ruge, he couldn’t help but sneer: “I’m afraid he’s already dead. Whether he’s the murderer or not doesn’t matter.” “Explain yourself!” Ruge’s voice trembled slightly. Lei Jinghong folded his arms and laughed nonchalantly, “How could Zhan Feng let him live? He’s bound to silence him. The only question is whether that Xie Xiaofeng will survive.” It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her from head to toe! Ruge froze in shock. Xue said coldly, “Lei, you talk too much.” Seeing the anger in his handsome features—like a snowflake stark white against the ice—Lei Jinghong’s heart began to race. He forced a smile and said, “All right, all right. I’ll shut up now.” Over there. The door flew open as if split by a gale! Ruge clenched her teeth and rushed out! The sky was as gloomy as an inescapable nightmare. Dark clouds hung thick in the air. The streets were already deserted. Ruge, clad in red, ran through the rain. She no longer cared if anyone noticed her using her lightness skills; she would do whatever it took to find Zhan Feng! She had to find Zhan Feng! Rain drifted in through the wide-open door. Xue’s fingers caressed the strings. There was no melody—only a series of high-pitched sighs… Summer rain comes quickly and leaves just as fast. The sun burst brilliantly through the clouds, casting a golden glow over the lotus pond. The pond was filled with emerald-green lotus leaves, which, bathed in sunlight, released a delicate fragrance. Cao Renqiu’s face was ashen, his forehead covered in beads of sweat the size of soybeans. He stared in terror at the blue-clad youth before him, his voice trembling and hoarse: “I didn’t kill the Master! I didn’t kill him!” In just one night, he had gone from a mourning son-in-law to the murderer of both his master and his father-in-law. From the moment the Liehuo Manor declared that Xie Houyou had been killed by him, he knew his life was over. No one would believe him; everyone assumed the Liehuo Manor was always right. But he didn’t want to die! He wanted to flee Ping’an Town and find a place far from the world to live out his days. He had originally intended to go alone, but his clever son discovered him and insisted on coming along. So, he set out on the run with nine-year-old Xiaofeng. They had been on the run for only half an hour. They fled to this lotus pond on the outskirts of town. Zhan Feng and Zhongli Wulei appeared before him. Xie Xiaofeng thought his father was acting strangely. Why was Father so afraid when he told the man in blue that he hadn’t killed Grandfather? How could Father have killed Grandfather? He also didn’t understand why Father had to leave Ping’an Town, why they had to leave in secret, leaving him no time to say goodbye to his friends, nor any chance to make plans with the handsome Xue and Ruge about when they would meet again. Xie Xiaofeng was startled to see Father’s legs trembling. The father he had always seen as a towering figure stood there, his forehead covered in cold sweat, repeatedly telling the man in blue that he hadn’t killed Grandfather. But the man in blue didn’t seem to be listening to his father at all. A breeze, carrying the fresh scent of lotus leaves, gently ruffled Zhan Feng’s hair. Zhan Feng didn’t draw his sword; his tall, straight figure stood silently. He wore a deep blue cotton robe; his hair was thick and slightly curly, a deep black verging on blue;a deep blue gem set in his right ear, reflecting his eyes, which were so dark they seemed to turn blue. Yet a flash of emerald green suddenly appeared in his eyes. The emerald-green lotus leaves in the pond, dotted with raindrops, shimmered with the dazzling prism of sunlight. Their crystalline beauty caused him to narrow his eyes slightly. In the very instant Zhan Feng narrowed his eyes, Zhongli Wulei drew his sword. The sword’s gleam, like a string of water droplets splashing from a lotus leaf, shot straight toward Cao Renqiu! At the moment Zhan Feng narrowed his eyes, Cao Renqiu glanced at his son. He knew he was certain to die. Had he faced the gentle Yu Zihan or the fiery and upright Ji Jinglei, he might have had a chance to explain himself, a glimmer of hope for survival. But he was facing Zhan Feng. Zhan Feng was the eldest disciple of the Master of Blazing Fire Manor, a man of a dark and ruthless nature. Once he had made up his mind, there was absolutely no room for compromise. Cao Renqiu had intended to draw his sword. He knew that the moment Zhan Feng narrowed his eyes, it was a signal to kill. But just as his hand touched the hilt, he gave up. He had no chance of defeating Zhan Feng, let alone Zhongli Wulei standing behind him. So, he might as well use his last moments to look one last time at his nine-year-old son—Xiaofeng. Xie Xiaofeng saw that sword! His eyes were filled with terror; his little face was a mask of fear and panic. He clung tightly to his father’s leg, watching helplessly as the sword plunged toward his father’s throat. Father… He wanted to shout, to warn his father to watch out for that sword, but before the sound could escape his mouth, he felt a warm, metallic liquid roll down from above, landing on his tender lips! Xie Xiaofeng looked up in panic. His father’s throat was like a fountain, gushing blood endlessly. The blood stained his father’s clothes and splattered down, staining his own clothes red as well. His father’s mouth hung open as he looked at him with a tender gaze, as if he had something to say, but a man with a pierced throat, no matter how hard he tried, could not speak. Cao Renqiu collapsed. He fell at Xie Xiaofeng’s feet. The blood from his throat, after staining the earth red, finally ceased to flow. Xie Xiaofeng was only nine years old, yet he knew that his father was dead, killed by the man standing before him with a sword; he also knew that the one who had ordered the man to kill him was that young-looking man in blue! Zhan Feng stood tall, gazing at a corner of the lotus pond. There, nestled among the dense cluster of lotus leaves, a bud bloomed quietly. The bud was pale pink, resembling her fair, rosy skin. Perhaps it was the last lotus flower of this summer; as the wind blew, it emitted a delicate, silvery chime. “You killed my father! I’ll kill you!” Screaming! Roaring! The figure of a blood-stained child burst into Zhan Feng’s line of sight. Zhan Feng frowned slightly; for a moment, he couldn’t recall who this child was. Zhongli Wulei blocked the child’s path. Xie Xiaofeng struggled desperately in Zhongli Wulei’s grasp, snarling with fury at Zhan Feng: “Why did you kill my father? He was a good man! He didn’t kill Grandfather!” Zhan Feng gazed absently at the lotus flower, then said after a long moment: “It wasn’t me who killed your father.” “It was you! You gave the order to kill my father! I saw it all! Your expression was the command to kill—!” Xie Xiaofeng’s eyes widened with fury. He swore that in this lifetime, he would avenge his father with his own hands, so he had to commit the face of this man in blue to memory. A gentle breeze rippled the water’s surface, and pale pink buds smiled delicately among the emerald lotus leaves. A figure sprang up like a streak of blue sky, spinning like a cloud over the lotus pond. Zhan Feng lowered his head, inhaling the scent of the lotus flower between his fingers, and whispered: “It was Heaven’s will that killed your father.” “It was you! I swear I’ll kill you!” Xie Xiaofeng roared with hatred! Zhan Feng remained silent. Then he slowly approached Xie Xiaofeng, lifted his chin, and studied him. Such a small child, perhaps only eight or nine years old—with searing hatred, a sharp mind, and a stubborn spirit. Given time and proper guidance, he could have amounted to something. A pity— Zhongli Wulei’s eyes suddenly widened, his pupils contracting. In his hands, Xie Xiaofeng’s body went limp. His neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and a few drops of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His body grew colder by the second as life was snatched away in an instant by the blue-clad man whose finger was pinching a flower bud. Zhan Feng looked at the child, his voice quiet: “The one who killed you was you yourself.” A chill ran through Zhongli Wulei’s body. He, too, had killed many people, but he had never killed a child with such calmness. A late summer evening. Zhan Feng tucked the last lotus flower from the pond into his bosom, his eyes dark and unfathomable: “Bury them.” The wind whipped the lotus leaves across the pond into a swirling dance. On the other side of the pond. Ruge felt every nerve in her body going numb. She stared fixedly at the blue-clad youth across the pond, unable to move! She had just arrived. She was a step too late. She had watched Xie Xiaofeng’s life end at Zhan Feng’s fingertips! The lotus flower exuded its fragrance from within her bosom. Looking through the emerald-green lotus leaves, Zhan Feng thought he saw a girl in a red dress. The girl he had once sworn to protect with his life. To protect her, he would rather hurt her than let her live in hell. Zhan Feng gazed at her. Her furious eyes suddenly made him realize that she was real—not just a figure tearing apart his dreams night after night. The setting sun cast a crimson glow. By the lotus pond. Ruge stood before Zhan Feng. She fixed her gaze on his eyes: “You killed Xie Xiaofeng.” Zhan Feng replied, “Yes.” Ruge asked, “Why?” Zhan Feng answered, “He would have become an enemy.” Ruge sneered coldly, “Because you killed his father.” Zhan Feng remained silent. Ruge said, “Tell me, do you really believe it was Cao Renqiu who killed Xie Houyou?” Zhan Feng’s face was expressionless. “It had to be him.” Ruge exclaimed angrily, “What kind of answer is that!” Zhan Feng’s eyes held a hint of sarcasm. “It was the only correct course of action.” “Method?” Ruge laughed bitterly. “In your eyes, are other people’s lives nothing more than a means to an end?” Zhan Feng remained silent. The lotus leaves across the pond rippled like emerald waves. Ruge’s expression hardened as she said in a deep voice, “Draw your sword. I will avenge Xie Xiaofeng.” Zhan Feng shook his head. “You are no match for me.” Ruge thrust out her chest and laughed. “Is that so? We’ll have to fight to find out!” Fiery—Fist—! Like the blazing flames of a scorching summer! As Ruge’s fist struck out, the lotus leaves across the pond seemed to be instantly scorched, curling and turning yellow. She had become a ball of fire! A fire capable of burning everything in the world! That night. Xue had been waiting for Ruge all along. The shop door stood open, moonlight streaming in, accompanied by the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs. Xue’s fingers plucked the strings of her zither, yet her gaze remained fixed on the street outside. Her white robe was as pure as the moonlight. Finally. The sound of chaotic, frantic footsteps came from the street, like a lost child in a panic. Xue gently arched her beautiful eyebrows. Ruge crashed into the room with a thud; her crimson robe seemed to flutter in shreds as if wounded by a blade’s aura, like a vibrant butterfly that had lost its soul. Her face was deathly pale, yet her lips were blood-red. There was no snow in her eyes. Her body went limp, and she collapsed onto the cold floor. Then she began to weep uncontrollably! She wept like a child, her whole body trembling, retching slightly, her limbs beginning to convulse. Xue watched her. This was the first time he had ever seen Ruge cry. In the past, no matter what situation she faced, she would always manage a smile, even if it was forced. He had thought her resilient smile was what broke his heart; he never expected that her tears would shatter it. Xue sat on the ground and pulled Ruge, whose body had grown ice-cold from crying, into his arms. He tenderly stroked her disheveled black hair and whispered, “Don’t cry anymore. Haven’t you already given up?” Ruge broke free from him, her eyes red and swollen, blazing with fury: “I hate him!” She hated him! He could dislike her, he could abandon her, but how could he be so heartless as to kill a nine-year-old child?! That child danced with firecrackers as skillfully as a soaring dragon;that child, who had grown tired of flatbreads and loved sugar-coated hawthorn; that child, who dreamed of becoming a hero when he grew up! Zhan Feng killed Xie Xiaofeng without batting an eye. Xie Xiaofeng’s head drooped lifelessly, a crimson streak of blood at the corner of his mouth, never to utter another cry— “Sister Ruge…” Ruge hated herself, too. She hated herself for being so useless! She had begun practicing the Blazing Fire Fist at the age of five, training for a full eleven years, yet she had never managed to grasp its essence; she was like a fool, appearing comical and laughable under Zhan Feng’s Heaven’s Will Blade. Zhan Feng seemed to be toying with her, slicing through her hair with each stroke, tearing open her sleeves and the hem of her skirt; even when her fists struck his chest, his expression was as if he’d merely been bitten by a mosquito. The moonlight flowed like water. Inside the house. Xue whispered, “Your hatred is the greatest curse you can cast upon him.” Ruge didn’t hear her; her heart was filled with nothing but rage! She clenched her fists and roared: “Why?! Am I nothing but a useless waste of space?!” She wanted to become stronger! Perhaps only by making her stronger could she reduce the sorrow in the world! At that moment. Only the moon witnessed the sorrow on Xue’s face. And so the moon, too, began to grieve. Xue heard the voice within Ruge’s heart. He knew that once the stubborn girl finally decided to do something, there was no stopping her. Her power was no longer something he could seal away. “Cough!” Zhan Feng clutched his chest and coughed up a mouthful of blood! By candlelight. An eerie flush spread across his cheeks, and the gem in his right ear glowed a deep blue, as if dark light were flowing through it. Zhongli Wulei left, closing the guest room door behind Zhan Feng. He knew that what Young Master Feng needed least at this moment was to be disturbed; under the moonlight, he couldn’t help but think of that child whose life had been suddenly snatched away. Zhongli Wulei’s eyes darkened. Perhaps he wasn’t cut out to be an assassin after all. Zhan Feng’s chest ached as if it would burst! Ruge’s fist possessed such power—he had clearly underestimated her in the past. She was indeed Lie Mingjing’s daughter; when enraged, her aura carried the bearing of a true ruler. His right hand reached into his robe. He smiled bitterly. The pale pink lotus bud had long since been reduced to a pulp by Ruge’s fist; all that remained between his fingers was a faint, delicate fragrance and transparent floral sap. The last lotus of this summer—after all, he could not hold onto it. Zhan Feng flung the remnants of the crushed lotus out the window! At that moment. Zhongli Wulei’s voice came from outside. “Young Master Feng, Master Dao Wuxia and Master Dao Wuhen of the City Without Swords have arrived.” Zhan Feng wiped the blood from the corner of his lips; his impassive face was as ruthless as legend had it. “Let them in.”