Luocheng, Xiao Hun Inn.
Outside the window, a fine drizzle fell, and the world was pitch black. The pitter-patter of water droplets rolling off the eaves sounded just like pearls falling onto a jade plate.
He Ping's room was the largest in Xiao Hun Inn, unlike the small side room occupied by Fang Bie and Xue Ling. However, the room's decor was very simple. He Ping wore a moon white cotton long skirt, a silver hairpin was slanted in her hair, and she held a small brass pair of scissors in her hand, carefully trimming the lamp wick.
The oil lamp used bean oil. When the cotton wick burned for a long time, it would char and turn black, causing the flame to dim. He Ping used the scissors to trim away the charred parts bit by bit, then watched as the lamp's light gradually brightened.
She set down the brass scissors and looked at the rainy night outside the window. The fine rain was like silk, lingering outside the window like countless silvery bright spider webs in the dark night.
Tonight was the first mission for Fang Bie and Lin Xue.
Moreover, the enemy was much more troublesome than originally expected.
Actually, if she were truly worried, He Ping should have gone over to watch instead of staying at the inn, waiting idly by an oil lamp that kept dimming, needing to trim the wick every so often.
But He Ping still sat before the table, watching the lamp flame and the rain outside the window.
The woman's face flickered in the lamplight; her features were like a painting, indifferent and elegant.
"Well," He Ping whispered to herself, "every assassin must have the experience of their first assassination."
"Only with a first time can there be a second."
"If he dies on the road during his first assassination, then it only proves he is not suited for this profession."
"After all, I will grow old, and I will die. When that day comes, there will be no one left to take care of him."
"The only person who can take care of him is himself."
"Of course, that girl Lin Xue, although she has many issues, I feel she is a good girl."
"I only hope she doesn't do anything foolish and truly plunge herself into eternal damnation."
He Ping murmured to herself, her voice very low. She kept watch by the rainy window, leaving a lamp lit for those two wanderers out in the night.
This way, when they returned, the first thing they would see was this light, knowing that someone was waiting for them.
He Ping liked this feeling very much. When she first went to complete a mission, she made a small mistake and returned covered in blood, feeling as though she might collapse on the road.
But when she saw that lit lamp, she felt that the sensation of being waited for by someone was truly wonderful.
Now, time had passed, and the person who once left a lamp lit for her had died. The person who once kept watch with her in the dark night had died. Although she had not truly grown old, she felt her heart had softened a great deal.
Just like now, it was her turn to light a lamp for others, her turn to keep watch for others.
He Ping pursed her lips and reached for the brass scissors again.
Tonight, she would keep watch here all night.
Until the east began to brighten.
……
……
Inside the Mountain God Temple, Ning Huaiyuan felt that his next strike was certain to succeed.
His sword thrust out like a long rainbow, but the little beggar raised his head, his face full of ignorance and a hint of panic, then took a step backward.
One Sword missed.
Ning Huaiyuan's sword momentum was not yet spent, so he immediately changed his move to a horizontal sweep. But the little beggar's feet slipped, and he fell to the ground, the Yinghuo Sword sweeping just two inches above the opponent's head.
Ning Huaiyuan was both shocked and angry. The soft sword in his left hand coiled out like a silver snake. The sword edge twisted, instantly covering the little beggar's entire body. As he lay on the ground, no matter how he dodged, he was shrouded under the sword light, meaning his body would be torn to pieces in an instant.
But Ning Huaiyuan never expected that the little beggar's body seemed to be tied by a rope; even though he had already fallen to the ground, he was able to slide straight backward, just barely dodging his sword momentum.
He slid back a full six feet, as if the ground beneath him was not bluestone brick, but a slippery sheet of ice.
Then, his whole body stood up in a bizarre fashion, feeling just like a shovel lying on the ground; as long as someone stepped on the head of the shovel, it would stand straight up on its own.
It was normal for a shovel to stand up, but for a grown man to stand up in such a ghostly way appeared exceptionally terrifying, like a ghost or a god.
The little beggar stood before Ning Huaiyuan again, his expression still ignorant: "Who are you trying to scare?"
He said this without feeling how mocking his words were at all.
However, Ning Huaiyuan himself would never treat the little beggar before him as a weakling who knew no martial arts. His previous thrust, sweep, and the flick of his soft sword were things that even ordinary experts would find very difficult to handle. Moreover, this little beggar was unarmed, yet he used a comical retreat, a slip, and that final, incomprehensible backward slide to escape. Ning Huaiyuan had never heard of such martial arts, but he asked himself, he absolutely could not do it.
Who on earth was this little beggar?
For a moment, such thoughts could not help but fill Ning Huaiyuan's mind.
"May I ask your name?" Ning Huaiyuan still held his twin swords. Yue Pingshan had already been struck by the Cold Soul Silver Needle and was no longer a threat. Only this little beggar remained, whom he had originally thought would be a small favor to deal with. But under his assassination attempt, the opponent handled it with such ease, and when he spoke, it was with the sky-high mockery of "Who are you trying to scare?"
But no matter how mocking the opponent was, in the Jianghu, with one's life hanging by a thread, Ning Huaiyuan had survived until now by being careful and having many hidden cards. Yet, this little beggar before him truly made Ning Huaiyuan feel he could not fathom him.
"Name? I am called Dog Scum," the little beggar said, tilting his head, his voice ignorant and innocent.
Gou Zazhong? Ning Huaiyuan was truly stunned.
How could there be such a strange name?
Could it be that he was called Dog Scum?
But who would give themselves such a self-insulting name?
However, Ning Huaiyuan was now somewhat wary of this little beggar. If it was luck that the opponent dodged his first use of Sword Qi, then now that he had stepped forward repeatedly and launched a fierce attack with seventy percent of his cultivation without even touching the corner of the opponent's clothes, then something was very wrong.
"Little brother Dog Scum," Ning Huaiyuan said as pleasantly as possible, "this brother and I have a Jianghu grievance. Once one enters the Jianghu, one is not in control of their own fate. You and I are strangers meeting by chance; I do not wish to add to my sins. Moreover, killing a little beggar like this would also make people in the Jianghu laugh."
He said, "If you need to stay in this Mountain God Temple, I will yield it to you."
"How about that?"
He still held his twin swords, standing there looking at the little beggar who called himself Dog Scum, waiting for the other's answer.
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