Chapter 28: No Escape Even with Wings

As dawn was just beginning to pale the horizon, Gu Changqing finally caught sight of the distant city, its silhouette emerging in the faint, silvery light. The sky had yet to fully brighten, but already a crowd had gathered before the city gates, sitting on the ground to rest and wait. They were all dressed as villagers, their sides piled with bundles of firewood or carrying shoulder poles, the baskets at either end filled with vegetables or medicinal herbs.

Gu Changqing glanced at them from afar, then made his way toward a secluded corner of the city. Though it appeared he was merely walking, each stride covered five or six meters, swift beyond belief. The light was still dim, and he was far enough away that hardly anyone noticed him. Only a young boy, his face smudged and clothes coarse, happened to look up as he carefully broke off a piece of hard bread. He stared in astonishment, then rubbed his eyes, uncertain if he’d really seen a man flash from one spot to another in an instant. When he looked again, the stranger had vanished.

Gu Changqing surveyed the city walls—no more than six meters high and crumbling in places. Only a handful of drowsy soldiers lounged atop the parapet. After all, this was the southernmost part of Nanzhou; beyond lay only mountains and sea, with no threat of invasion or monster incursion.

With a glance upward, Gu Changqing gathered himself and leapt, the earth beneath his feet bursting apart. In a flash, he landed atop the wall, gripped the edge, and vaulted nimbly over to the other side. One of the dozing soldiers was stirred by the muffled thud, peered down in confusion, and promptly resumed his nap.

Inside the county seat, Gu Changqing continued as before, each step spanning several meters. By the time dawn fully broke, he had already circled most of the city. He chose what looked to be a wealthy residence and leapt over the wall.

“Hurry up and empty the chamber pots! The master will rise soon—if those filthy things offend his eyes, you’ll be sorry!” a sharp-tongued woman’s voice rang out.

Gu Changqing paused behind a rockery to observe. The courtyard was modest—two main sections and two small side yards. A maidservant was bossing two servants about.

Slipping into a side building, Gu Changqing found a man sound asleep on a couch. He inspected the man’s blue brocade robe, tried it on with a look of distaste, and tossed it aside before climbing out the window—the man was too short, barely one meter seventy, and the robe would be far too short on Gu Changqing’s tall frame.

After searching several houses, Gu Changqing emerged clad in a pale blue brocade tunic and tiger-headed shoes with upturned toes; only his cropped hair looked out of place. However, he had also “borrowed” a bundle of long hair, which he planned to have fashioned into a wig.

Finding an empty courtyard, Gu Changqing settled down to rest. He’d been on the move all night; even a cultivator needed sleep. Sprawled on the couch, one leg perched over the other, he placed twelve silk pouches by his side. These he’d picked up from the Yu family disciples—filled with gold leaves, gold beans, and silver cakes, amounting to more than twenty taels of gold and several dozen taels of silver.

The gold leaves were actually thin pages stamped with the Yu family seal, each folded into ten sheets. The gold beans weighed about ten grams each, oval in shape, while the silver cakes were flat discs, each roughly two taels.

Though he was uncertain of local prices, the fact that a dozen Yu family disciples, all martial artists, carried only this much suggested it was quite valuable—enough, at least, to visit one of the city’s pleasure houses. After all, to truly understand local customs, there was no better place than the brothel, where unlike in polite society, conversations took place unclothed.

Gu Changqing had barely closed his eyes when a thunder of hooves announced the arrival of nearly a hundred riders galloping toward Pingyao County. All were dressed in embroidered robes, their chests emblazoned with the Yu family crest.

“Out of the way!” shouted one of the riders. The villagers queued at the city gate scattered in fear. A young man, slow to dodge with his yoke and baskets, was struck by a horse and flung to the ground, coughing blood. The Yu family riders didn’t spare him so much as a glance.

“Seen any strangers enter the city?” demanded a burly, bearded man as he reined in at the city gate.

“No strangers, only local villagers,” the guard replied, intimidated by the Yu family’s arrogance. The Yu family were overlords in the Yuanhe region—even the county magistrate granted them respect, let alone a lowly guard.

The burly man scowled and barked an order. A dozen riders wheeled their horses and spread out along the city walls to search for signs of entry. At the scene, they found not one missing group but two—one reduced to six piles of bones, the other still unaccounted for. The missing group had set out from Pingyao; their fate seemed grim. Reasoning that their quarry was headed for Pingyao, they hurried back.

The Yu family had a mansion in the city; soon after, the scouts returned. “Brother Yu, there are traces at the southeast corner—the intruder is likely already inside,” one reported.

“But if he’s in hiding, how do we find him?” someone asked.

The man addressed as Brother Yu was the bearded one—Yu Xuanzheng, a collateral member of the family with middling talent who had barely reached the first stage of Qi Refinement through medicinal force. Even so, he far surpassed his peers and took charge of their affairs here.

“The Third Elder will arrive by dusk,” Yu Xuanzheng declared. “I’ll first request the aid of Daoist Xu, then visit the county magistrate to request a search.”

Daoist Xu, meanwhile, was a formidable ally—at the fourth stage of Qi Refinement and well acquainted with the Yu family. Though only at the fourth stage, his mastery of the Mysterious Water Sword made him a formidable defender, and with a magic weapon in hand, he could at least hold the demonic cultivator at bay.

“You all stand watch at the city gates and keep an eye on anyone coming or going,” Yu Xuanzheng directed. The Yu family mobilized at once.

First, Yu Xuanzheng visited Daoist Xu, an ethereal-looking man who appeared to be in his thirties, though Yu knew he’d been friendly with the family for three decades and must be at least seventy, his youthful looks preserved by special arts.

“You’re saying the demonic cultivator who killed your second young master is already here?” the Daoist asked gently.

“Exactly so. Last night, ten of our men vanished, reduced to skeletons. The killer must be the same fiend. I beg for your help, Master Xu!”

“Regardless of my friendship with your family, eradicating evil is our duty,” the Daoist replied. “If that villain appears, I will make sure he cannot escape.”

“Thank you, Master Xu. The Yu family will richly reward you afterward.”

Yu Xuanzheng then sought out the county magistrate to request additional troops. With everything arranged, the Yu family lay in wait at the city gates, making no further moves.

By dusk, a group of a dozen riders entered Pingyao. Among them was a white horse, taller and more imposing than the rest, scales glinting on its legs. Atop it rode a man in blue, his expression cold and severe—Yu Wentao himself.

They had feared the demonic cultivator had already fled, making him all but impossible to find. Yet here he was, brazenly prowling the area and striking again. Now that their net was cast, if the villain was still within the city, even wings would not carry him to safety.