The twenty-fifth year of Zhenhe, the first day of the seventh month.
Prince Zhen of Great Xia went on an outing with his beautiful concubine but encountered an assassination attempt.
Deep within the dense forest on the outskirts of the capital, an extravagantly luxurious carriage raced frantically through the woods, startling roosting crows perched on branches, their incessant cawing echoing through the air.
With the sound of a blade slicing through the air, a flying longsword cleaved the coachman’s head clean in two. Blood instantly sprayed forth, dyeing the carriage curtain crimson, the liquid seeping downward along the fabric.
Instantly, several dark figures emerged from the seemingly empty path, each wielding dual blades.
At the forefront stood a woman in green robes, her face obscured by a veiled hat, her features indistinguishable. “Qu Qing, Master of Shumiao Pavilion, here to claim Your Highness’s life.”
Prince Zhen, both terrified and furious, flung open the curtain and stepped out. “It is said that Shumiao Pavilion stands aloof from the world, uninvolved in the jianghu or the imperial court, merely dealing in information trade. When did you become the Crown Prince’s lackey?”
Qu Qing’s tone was icy. “This matter has nothing to do with the Crown Prince.”
“Under heaven, besides the Crown Prince, who else could possibly persuade the elusive Shumiao Pavilion, known as ‘where faint smoke rises, ethereal and untraceable,’ to descend into worldly affairs and engage in such acts of harming the imperial family? Speak plainly! What benefits did the Crown Prince offer you? This prince is willing to give you double! Or have you already become his mistress, which is why you’re staking the lives of your entire pavilion to serve him?”
“You shameless scoundrel, cease your nonsense!” The speaker was Wang Yan, the second-in-command of Shumiao Pavilion.
Qu Qing raised her hand to stop Wang Yan, her tone indifferent. “In this world, there exist those of utmost wickedness and evil, whom all wish to eliminate.”
“Quite the bold claim. Let’s see if you have the skill to back it up!” Prince Zhen drew his sword and lunged toward Qu Qing.
Qu Qing did not move an inch, merely raising her hand to deliver a palm strike. A palm force carrying overwhelming momentum instantly surged forth, knocking Prince Zhen to the ground, where he vomited a large mouthful of blood.
The residual sword energy brushed past, just barely lifting a corner of the veiled hat, revealing the face beneath. Qu Qing was merely sixteen, with delicate features, fair skin, and red lips. Though unsmiling, she did not appear stern; dressed in green robes with her hair tied up, she did not seem aged, yet her demeanor was excessively aloof, making her difficult to approach.
Qu Qing, holding her longsword, slowly advanced toward him.
Prince Zhen struggled to stand up from the ground, a fierce and murderous aura erupting from his entire being. He raised his sword and slashed wildly at Qu Qing, who blocked horizontally with her own blade. Failing to land a hit, Prince Zhen became even more frenzied, hacking chaotically without any technique.
After a few exchanges, what seemed like an impatient sigh seemed to emanate from beneath the veiled hat.
In an instant, Qu Qing soared into the air, her posture light and graceful, ethereal as an immortal yet captivating as a phantom. Her sword tip pointed directly at Prince Zhen, the sword energy sharp and cold, stirring a howling gale as if carrying the force of ten thousand jun. No matter how wildly Prince Zhen brandished his sword, he could neither block nor evade it.
Just as the longsword pierced Prince Zhen’s heart, he drew a poisoned hidden weapon from his chest and shot it at Qu Qing, intent on mutual destruction.
Qu Qing immediately leaned backward to dodge. The hidden weapon knocked off her veiled hat, and along with it, the hair ribbon tying her hair came loose. Her ink-black hair cascaded down, reflecting the sparse light filtering through the forest, as if she herself were coated in a soft glow, radiant and stunningly beautiful, complementing the previous impression of her cold demeanor in green robes.
Perhaps momentarily mesmerized, Prince Zhen made no further moves, only staring fixedly at Qu Qing, murmuring softly, “You think killing me will allow the Crown Prince to ascend the throne? Heh, I will watch closely as your beautiful dreams shatter one by one…”
His voice grew fainter and fainter until finally falling silent. No one could make out the nonsense he was muttering.
Qu Qing bent down to pick up the veil hat and put it back on, pointing at Prince Zhen’s corpse as she said to Wang Yan, “Throw him into the deep mountains. Wait until birds and beasts have devoured him, then bring his skull back to me. As for the rest… bury it.”
Wang Yan replied, “Understood.”
“Wait!” A woman hurriedly descended from the carriage and rushed to kneel before Qu Qing. “Although I was his wife, I beg the Pavilion Master to grant me permission to cremate Prince Zhen.”
Seeing this, Wang Yan chuckled meaningfully. “Ah Su, you truly are something. Even though the Pavilion Master already rejected your proposal, you still slipped out of the pavilion alone and quietly, concocted an identity as a song and dance performer, and infiltrated this foolish prince’s side as a spy. You planned every step meticulously. The Pavilion Master was furious when she found out!”
So it turned out that this beloved concubine of Prince Zhen was a Beauty Blade of Shumiao Pavilion, and also the renowned Plain-Handed Medical Immortal Ling Su of the martial world.
An aura of ferocity faintly emanated from Qu Qing as she said in a heavy tone, “Ling Su, back then I took you out of that depraved place, kept you by my side, taught you martial arts and medical skills, all so you could live in this world with purity and dignity. Yet you stubbornly insisted on returning to Hongxiu Zhao, submitting yourself beneath Prince Zhen, engaging in the work of a prostitute. Could it be that Shumiao Pavilion can no longer accommodate a Medical Immortal of such exceptional talent and beauty?”
Ling Su knelt prostrate on the ground, her head deeply bowed, tears continuously streaming down as she urgently explained, “No, that’s not it. Ling Su only wanted to repay your kindness from back then. Prince Zhen’s residence was heavily guarded, and Consort Lan had dispatched many hidden guards. If we didn’t trick Prince Zhen into leaving the capital, even if we could kill him, we would surely suffer heavy losses.”
“Ah Su, you’re wrong about that,” Wang Yan interjected. “He was just a milk-fed brat. I, Wang Yan, alone could have sent him straight to hell.”
Qu Qing continued, “Both of you have your own ideas, daring to keep me in the dark until now. But have you considered that if Prince Zhen died within the capital, within the Crown Prince’s sphere of influence—whether in a tavern or a brothel—as long as it was done cleanly, no investigation could ever trace it back to Shumiao Pavilion. Yet Ling Su specifically tricked him out of the capital. What a renowned Plain-Handed Medical Immortal you are. If Consort Lan were to question Hongxiu Zhao, how would you hide? Even if we handed you over, do you think Consort Lan and that emperor on his high throne would let Shumiao Pavilion off?”
Hearing this, Wang Yan’s face flushed red then turned pale, then flushed again. “This… this… what should we do now? Old Wang didn’t think this far ahead… this… I deserve a beating, I deserve a beating!” As he spoke, he too knelt before Qu Qing, regretfully slapping his own face, each strike resounding loudly.
Seeing this, the others knew she was truly enraged, and with a rustling sound, they all knelt in unison, saying together, “We beg the Pavilion Master to calm your anger.”
Ling Su, her face streaked with tears, picked up her long sword and pressed it against her neck, adopting a posture ready to atone with her death.
Qu Qing’s tone grew even colder. “Ling Su, if you die, it becomes a case with no living witness. To Consort Lan, it would seem that Shumiao Pavilion forced a good woman into prostitution, leading you to such a tragic end of being discarded after use.”
Ling Su sobbed twice, dropped the dagger, and lay prostrate on the ground, wailing in grief, “This subordinate acknowledges her wrongdoing. I submit entirely to the Pavilion Master’s judgment.”
Qu Qing sighed softly, “What’s done is done, and further words are useless. All I want is Prince Zhen’s skull. As for the rest, do as you please—just be sure not to leave any more evidence. Once this matter is settled, return to the Jielü Hall in the pavilion and receive one hundred lashes. Wang Yan, you will also receive fifty lashes. If anyone acts on their own initiative again in the future, regardless of who it is, they will be executed on the spot.”
Ling Su knelt upright once more, kowtowed three times heavily, then rose and walked over to Prince Zhen’s corpse. She lifted the body and departed.
“Pavilion Master, should I send someone to follow Ah Su? After all…” Wang Yan asked quietly.
“No need. I trust her.”
“Then how should we handle this matter now?” Wang Yan inquired again.
“Xiao Bai!” Qu Qing called out loudly.
“Coming, Master!”
Bai Fu, dressed in dark blue martial attire with her hair tied high in a ponytail, dashed out from the dense forest. Slung over her shoulder was a woman in red robes. Upon closer inspection, the woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Ling Su.
Bai Fu was only thirteen years old. Three years ago, while traveling in the south, Qu Qing had noticed her exceptional bone structure—a natural talent for martial arts—and bought her from human traffickers, later taking her on as a disciple.
Bai Fu complained, “Brother Wang, look at the wicked things you’ve done. I and a few brothers practically scoured every prison and mass grave around here before we found someone with a build similar to Sister Ling’s. We disguised her and brought her here.”
Qu Qing said, “Wang Yan, bring all the corpses of the prince’s guards here, along with this woman. Arrange them together and set a fire. The flames must be neither too large nor too small—just enough to burn them all beyond recognition, yet still allow Consort Lan to identify them as her own people. The woman’s face should be mostly burned, but with traces of the disguise still faintly visible.”
“Pavilion Master, why is that?” Wang Yan asked, puzzled.
“Consort Lan is inherently suspicious. This is merely to cast some mud on the Crown Prince. Hongxiu Zhao belongs to the Crown Prince, but the Ling Su of Hongxiu Zhao may not necessarily be the Ling Su of Shumiao Pavilion.”
Wang Yan’s eyes widened. “Hongxiu Zhao belongs to the Crown Prince?”
“We only uncovered that yesterday. Though Ling Su acted rashly, her luck is truly remarkable.”
“But if that’s the case, how would the Crown Prince allow someone of unknown origin into Hongxiu Zhao?”
Qu Qing smiled bitterly. “Who knows? Perhaps the tiger dozed off, or perhaps he intended to remain unchanged to cope with all changes, or maybe he wanted to use a borrowed knife to kill. Or perhaps he simply handed Ling Su a jar, waiting to catch a big turtle like me.”
Wang Yan slapped his thigh heavily, even more regretful. “How is that good luck? It’s more like a headless fly stumbling straight into shit!”
“Why isn’t it good luck? I’d rather be a live turtle caught in a trap than a bunch of dead turtles beheaded on the execution block.” Qu Qing’s expression remained calm, as if she were discussing something trivial.
Wang Yan looked at the young woman before him, his heart filled with countless emotions.
Qu Qing had been brought back to Shumiao Pavilion by the former Pavilion Master, Xiao Si, and taken as a disciple before she was even a month old. But the good times did not last long—first, her senior brother died, and then her master disappeared. At the age of ten, as the sole successor, she instantly became the target of everyone’s arrows. The three great elders rebelled one after another, with assassinations and poisonings occurring both openly and covertly. Two years later, only after Qu Qing had fully mastered the Martial Arts Mental Method left behind by Xiao Si and executed the three elders did she truly become the Pavilion Master of Shumiao Pavilion. Though the internal strife had been quelled, she spent the next five or six years searching for her master across the land, without even a trace of news.
Seeing his silence, Qu Qing continued, “We’ve endured so much over the years—what’s this compared to all that? Wang Yan, take the men and handle this properly, then return to the pavilion. Xiao Bai, you go back with them too. Don’t slack off—keep up with your training.”
Wang Yan took a deep breath and replied, “Yes.”
“Master, I don’t want to go back,” Bai Fu pouted, tugging at Qu Qing’s sleeve, clearly unwilling.
“Go back!” Qu Qing coldly tossed out the two words, flicked her sleeve, and leaped into the air, vanishing like a passing breeze.
Afterward, everyone busied themselves, moving the bodies throughout the forest and preparing to set the fire.
Not far away, beneath a cluster of gloomy shadows cast by the trees.
“Shumiao Pavilion has truly gifted this Crown Prince with quite a present. I never knew I had gained such a capable paramour,” the man murmured, his thin lips slightly curved at the corners.
Tall and slender, with eyebrows like ink strokes and eyes as bright as stars, he was undeniably one in ten thousand in terms of handsome looks. A light yellow robe further accentuated his innate nobility and grace.
This was none other than the very person Qu Qing was “slandering”—the Crown Prince of Great Xia, Shang Jingci.
“Your Highness, should we let them handle it this way? What if…” the attendant behind the Crown Prince asked.
Shang Jingci said, “Find a man with a build similar to the Fourth Prince’s. Remember to create an old scar about two fingers’ width below the right elbow—make it slightly thicker, roughly the width of a finger.”
“But I recall Prince Zhen’s scar was relatively thin, no more than half a finger’s width,” the attendant whispered in reminder.
“Precisely—half-truth, half-concealment. Slander is only necessary when someone is dead. If Consort Lan can’t be sure whether the Fourth Prince is truly dead, she’ll hesitate, unable to act recklessly.”
“Your Highness is brilliant.”
Shang Jingci then turned his gaze with keen interest toward the direction where the young woman had disappeared, ordering, “Have someone follow her. Since she chose to live, she can only live within the jar…”