Volume One: Carefree Wandering Amidst Indistinguishable Paper Leaves Chapter Nine: Surprise Attack

Old Xing sighed. “Xiao Yishui has used Beggar Sect disciples to rob wealthy merchants, and lured women with the help of constables—he’s pocketed quite a bit of silver these past years. Within the boundaries of Huize County, he’s practically all-powerful…” He looked at Yang Ning, adding, “Young man, by your voice I’d say you’re not very old. What you did tonight must have been an impulsive act. You must understand, if you cross Xiao Yishui, the consequences could be dire. If you put away your blade and leave now, I’ll pretend nothing happened here tonight.”

Yang Ning thought to himself that if he were easily frightened, he wouldn’t have come at all. He asked, “Since you don’t know where those girls were taken, is there anyone besides Xiao Yishui and that mad dog who does?”

“Madam Hua probably knows.” After a moment’s thought, Old Xing replied, “She’s been Xiao Yishui’s lover for quite some time. She’s been involved in all those schemes from the very start—there’s no way she doesn’t know a great deal. Young man, I’ve told you everything I know. Your knife… please, put it away.”

“Where is Xiao Yishui now?” Instead of sheathing his blade, Yang Ning tightened his grip. If Old Xing claimed Xiao Yishui wasn’t at the Hua residence, Yang Ning would know he was lying and would have to spill some of his blood.

Old Xing hurriedly answered, “He’s here, in this very house. There’s a separate courtyard at the edge of the rear garden, with two banana trees in front of the door. Whenever he comes here, that’s where he stays.”

Yang Ning frowned slightly and slowly drew back his blade.

As the edge left Old Xing’s throat, the man let out a breath of relief. Suddenly, his eyes grew cold; he flicked his right hand, and a handful of dust flew straight at Yang Ning’s face.

Unbeknownst to Yang Ning, Old Xing had quietly scooped up a handful of earth. Outwardly, he had been forthcoming, but secretly he was ready to strike. Though Yang Ning was masked, Old Xing judged from his voice that he was quite young and thus assumed the boy was inexperienced—unlikely to expect a sudden attack. If he managed to capture the intruder who had snuck into the house in the dead of night, it would be a great credit to him.

As the dust flew, Old Xing was certain Yang Ning would panic, and he prepared to kick at him and call for reinforcements in the confusion.

To his surprise, Yang Ning seemed to have anticipated this. He sidestepped effortlessly, evading the dust, and in the same motion, swept his arm. Old Xing immediately felt a stabbing pain in his throat—his eyes bulged as he realized his neck had been slit. A rush of blood burst forth, gleaming cruelly and vividly red beneath the moonlight.

Old Xing clutched at his throat, blood streaming through his fingers, making a guttural sound as he tried to cry out, but could not. His body convulsed and twisted, but soon stilled and lay motionless.

Gazing at Old Xing’s now-dull, protruding eyes, Yang Ning slowly stood, took a deep breath, and quietly left the courtyard. In the darkness, he moved like a phantom, gripping his broadsword as he swiftly made his way toward Madam Hua’s quarters.

He remembered what Old Xing had said: Xiao Yishui was in the separate courtyard at the back, with two banana trees in front. Searching in the night, he soon spotted the twin banana trees in the distance.

Sure enough, beside the banana trees was a small, independent courtyard. Yang Ning approached. The gate was closed, but the wall was low. He hung his blade at his waist, easily climbed over, and saw the glow of lamplight through a paper window. He landed silently in the yard, certain that, barring surprises, Xiao Yishui and Madam Hua were inside.

He crept to the window and heard sounds from within that made one’s cheeks burn with shame—Madam Hua’s moans and licentious whispers were loud and clear. He realized the lovers were deep in their pleasures, and confirmed that Xiao Yishui was indeed inside.

Scanning the courtyard, Yang Ning spotted a large tree and concealed himself behind it.

Though courageous, he was not reckless.

Xiao Yishui was tall, standing out in an age when most men were short, and as head constable of Huize County, his martial skills would surely be formidable. Yang Ning was confident in his own abilities, but hampered by the physical limitations of his youthful body—he would be at a disadvantage in a direct confrontation.

Moreover, several constables were in the house. If they were alerted, the consequences would be grave.

Little Die had apparently been taken away by Constable Feng; her whereabouts were now unknown, her fate uncertain. Even if she hadn’t saved his life, Yang Ning’s nature would not allow him to leave such mysteries unsolved.

All around was quiet—the other constables evidently knew what Xiao Yishui and Madam Hua were up to, and dared not approach.

Yang Ning was content to wait. During his training years ago, he could lie motionless in the grass for hours; waiting beneath this tree, he was perfectly patient.

It was a deep night in September. The moon was bright, the stars few, and the air had grown a bit chilly. Dressed in only a thin garment, Yang Ning felt the cold but did not move.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the sounds within finally ceased. He glanced up at the sky—the waning moon was slanting west; it was already midnight.

Gently setting down his blade, he flexed his numb limbs, tightened the cloth mask over his face, and picked up his knife again.

He crept to the window. From inside came the sound of snoring—no doubt, after a night of exertion with the older woman, Xiao Yishui was now deep asleep.

He moved to the main door. At night, such doors were always secured with a wooden latch, but it was simple to open. Yang Ning slid the thin blade into the crack of the door, slowly lifted it upward, and soon felt an obstruction. With a careful flick, he dislodged the latch—the sound was soft, and hearing no change in the snores from within, he gently pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Xiao Yishui was in the room to the left. Yang Ning waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, then walked over. Perhaps believing the main door securely latched, the room door was merely left ajar.

Yang Ning held his breath, slowly pushed the door open, and stepped lightly into the chamber.

A strange scent filled the air—sweat, heavy perfume, and a thick, musky odor.

He saw the silken bed canopy had been drawn. Moving silently to the bedside, he gripped his blade, reached out, and gently parted the curtain.

In the gloom, he saw Xiao Yishui sprawled naked on the bed, while Madam Hua, plump and fair, lay on her side facing him, one arm draped across his chest, a pale thigh pressed over his body—a picture of tangled intimacy.

Yang Ning had no interest in admiring Madam Hua’s voluptuous form. His eyes grew cold as he crept closer, blade inching toward Xiao Yishui.

But just as the blade neared, Yang Ning sensed something amiss. Suddenly he realized that Xiao Yishui’s thunderous snores had ceased without him noticing. At that instant, Xiao Yishui’s eyes snapped open. With a sharp kick, he sent the quilt flying at Yang Ning.

Yang Ning cursed himself for carelessness. With no time to hesitate, he slashed diagonally with his broadsword, slicing through the quilt. In that brief moment, Xiao Yishui had already rolled upright and kicked at Yang Ning.

Yang Ning knew he had run into a true adversary—just as he’d suspected, Xiao Yishui was no ordinary man.

But he also knew that in such moments, calmness was vital. As Xiao Yishui’s foot came at him, Yang Ning did not retreat, but ducked low and swept his blade at Xiao Yishui’s standing leg.

Xiao Yishui’s kick missed, and at once he felt searing pain in his supporting leg—Yang Ning’s blade had struck. The sword was razor-sharp; in a flash, half of Xiao Yishui’s leg was severed, blood gushing forth. With his lower limb gone, Xiao Yishui collapsed heavily onto the bed.

Yang Ning, having struck true, did not hesitate. As Xiao Yishui landed, Yang Ning’s blade was already at his throat.

All this had happened in the blink of an eye. As Yang Ning pressed the blade to Xiao Yishui’s neck, Madam Hua had only just sat up, her eyes dreamy. “What’s wrong?” she murmured sleepily. But then, sensing something was off, she peered closer and saw a masked man with a knife at Xiao Yishui’s throat. Frozen with terror, she finally shrieked.

“If you scream again, I’ll kill him on the spot!” Yang Ning barked.

Madam Hua clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes brimming with fear. When she saw the blood-soaked half-leg by the pillow, her eyes rolled back and she fainted away.

Xiao Yishui, his leg half gone and blood pouring from the wound, was deathly pale, sweat pouring from his brow, his whole body trembling. Yet he was tough—he forced himself to look Yang Ning in the eye and asked in a low voice, “Do you… do you want silver, or my life?”

“I want silver, but if you’re not honest, I’ll take your life as well.”

“Fine…” Xiao Yishui gasped. “The silver… the silver’s in my purse with my clothes. There are rings and hair ornaments on the table—you… you can take them all…” He tried to hold on, but the pain made his body twitch uncontrollably.

He stared at Yang Ning’s face—the mask hid his features, but those cold, murderous eyes told Xiao Yishui he was in deadly peril. Yet, he reasoned, if the man was masked and didn’t fear being recognized, he might let him live; if not, he’d be dead for sure.

“The silver can wait,” Yang Ning said coolly. “Where are the girls?”

“The girls?”

“The ones you sent away,” Yang Ning pressed, lowering his voice. “Where did you send them? Tell me honestly, and I might spare your life.”

“Do you… do you have kin among them?” Xiao Yishui asked. “If that’s the case, I… I apologize, and I promise I’ll return her to you.”

“Enough nonsense.” Yang Ning’s tone was icy. “Where are they?”

Xiao Yishui replied, “They were sent to different places. Who… who do you wish to know about?” He pointed at the pillow. “Underneath is… is a record book, listing where they were sent. We… we can find them there…”

“Bring it here.”

Xiao Yishui pointed to the blade at his throat. Yang Ning relaxed his grip slightly.

“Thank… thank you…” said Xiao Yishui, turning his head and sliding his hand under the pillow. As he drew his hand out, he suddenly let out a low shout—a flash of cold light shot straight toward Yang Ning.