WJ Chapter 119

No Clothes (3)

Suddenly, a faint commotion broke out nearby. Guan Wujue and Yang Yue looked toward it simultaneously, and saw the Deputy Gate Master Dan striding in with great steps.

Dan Yi was cloaked in a black robe, beneath which his armor and heavy sword were fully donned. Threads of killing intent radiating from him drew the air inside Ghost Gate taut. His cold gaze swept the room, his voice booming like a great bell:

“Yin Ghosts of Ghost Gate, hear the order! All Yin Ghosts of the Yi-Wei, Geng-Yin, and Yi-You cohorts — excluding the Netherworld Division — are to don armor and fall in!”

This was actually a call to battle!

The moment the order was given, the already tense atmosphere ignited. The hour was late, yet it did nothing to stop Ghost Gate from springing into swift, orderly motion. Yang Yue leaned against the wall and said quietly, “War is coming.”

Guan Wujue suddenly sat up straight, tightened his grip on the twin swords lying on the ground beside him, and rose to his feet.

Yang Yue grabbed him by the arm. “The Deputy Gate Master didn’t call our Wu-Xu cohort. Where do you think you’re going?”

Guan Wujue said nothing in reply. He shook off Yang Yue’s hand without ceremony, slung the twin swords onto his back, then bent down to pick up his Yin Ghost face guard.

Then he pressed his five fingers against the face guard and snapped it over his face — the latch clicked shut with a sharp clack — leaving only a pair of pitch-black, keen eyes exposed.

The entire sequence of movements was smooth and swift. Before Yang Yue had time to react, Guan Wujue had already walked steadily out.

He was like a blade too eager to wait for its scabbard.

****

The night had deepened.

A thin layer of cloud covered the sky, leaving neither stars nor moon.

The disciples of the Three Sects and Five Orders had spent another day shouting curses and received not a single response in return. Such an unchanging routine had gone on for so long that by the afternoon they had grown bored and listless; by night, unable to bear the cold of Mount Shenlie, they had retreated early to their own camps to sleep.

The leaders of these factions, meanwhile, had gathered together and spent most of the day in anxious discussion over whether to begin the siege. As Xue Duxing had said, they had raised this venture in haste — while swiftness had been their strength, their coordination was clearly lacking, and the eight factions had differing interests.

Chong Xiao Sect’s Senior Brother Cheng Guan, Gui Xu Gate’s “Twin-Poles Daoist” Qing Sangzi, Bloodhand Sect’s “Demon Hand” Lu Sang, Xuan Yang Sect’s Elder Xiao Yuanshan… these men were the pillars of their respective factions and figures of renown in the jianghu. Not one would yield to another. They had quarreled red-faced for most of the day without reaching any conclusion, and had now gone off to sleep nursing their resentment.

In the pitch-black night, the outline of Xifeng City was nearly swallowed by the darkness.

Atop the city wall, a white-robed figure stood motionless.

Yun Changliu gazed down at the foot of the city alone. His eyes were cold as ice, as though he had brought down with him the frost from Wolong Platform itself.

Then, all at once, a mountain wind surged!

The great golden-red Candle Dragon banner rose up atop the city walls, which had stood in silence for days.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…

The raising of the banner was like a silent war horn. In the blink of an eye, blazing torches flared to life one after another along the darkened walls. Xifeng City became a dragon opening its eyes, spreading its maw wide, baring cold fangs at the ignorant invaders below.

With a thunderous rumble, the city gates swung open, and battle cries erupted on all sides!

From utter silence to a roar of voices — it took only an instant. The fully armed Zhuhuo Guards led the charge, common sect members surging close behind, pouring out like a crashing black wave.

Every single member of the Zhuyin Sect had red eyes. The fury they had suppressed for so many days had finally found its outlet; they were seething with killing intent as they charged straight for the enemy beyond the walls.

And all the while, a different sort of excitement and pride stirred in their hearts —

Their righteous indignation. Their brave and fearless valor. Their united resolve…At last! They had forced that weak and incompetent new Sect Leader to yield!

This was no small thing. Think of how, in the days when Yun Guyan had held the position, the Sect Leader’s might had been so formidable as to be utterly inviolable. The fury and indignation alone had already raised the members’ morale a hundredfold beyond the ordinary; now with this added sense of glory — of having toppled their own Sect Leader — they were a pack of wolves and tigers, throwing themselves in a frenzy at the enemies beneath the walls!

“What’s happening!?”

“What’s that sound!?”

“Look — Xifeng City has opened! That — that is—”

“Up, up! The Zhuyin Sect people are coming to kill us!!”

“Don’t push — where’s my sword? Where is my sword!?“

The disciples of the various factions jolted awake from their sleep and came rushing out. They stared at the blazing torches roaring along the walls of Xifeng City, their faces lit red by the firelight, wearing expressions of blank horror as though they had fallen into a nightmare.

No matter how they thought about it, they could not understand — the Zhuyin Sect, which had been perfectly content to hide its head like a tortoise all day, had why suddenly launched such a ferocious night assault!?

The first to bear the brunt was Gui Xu Gate. The Twin-Poles Daoist forced himself to remain calm, drew the treasured sword at his waist, channeled his internal energy, and roared, “Disciples of our sect, do not panic! Hold your ground — form up at once!”

Regrettably, the Twin-Poles Daoist Qing Sangzi never saw the moment his sect’s formation took shape.

What he saw instead was this: atop the dark walls of Xifeng City, beneath the billowing Candle Dragon banner, the white-robed figure who had stood motionless for so long suddenly leaped and descended, flames blazing skyward at his back.

The city wall had seemed quite far from here — yet in an instant, the white-robed Sect Leader was already directly above Qing Sangzi, so close that even the indifferent expression on his face was reflected clearly in the old Daoist’s eyes.

Yun Changliu raised his hand in one sharp motion. Into the Dragon-Chasing Whip he channeled every last ounce of his internal energy — ten full parts out of ten.

In that instant, a line of silver-white cold radiance, carrying the force of a mountain cleaving apart, tore open the night sky over Mount Shenlie.

Qing Sangzi moved to raise his sword in a block — but that silver light was too fast. Too fast!

His wrist had not yet lifted when an explosion of a whip crack split the air beside his ear. Then he saw heaven and earth flip upside down. He saw the horrified gazes of his own disciples. And then he saw his own body — blood spurting in wild bursts from the severed stump of his neck…

Something landed on the ground with a dull thud!

It was Qing Sangzi’s own head, white-bearded and white-haired, rolling away across the ground.

Yun Guyan’s Dragon-Chasing Whip had, in the end, been passed down to his beloved son. And the first strike this divine whip delivered under its new master claimed the head of Gui Xu Gate’s Twin-Poles Daoist.

What should have been a scene of rapid, ever-shifting battle froze, strangely, for a single instant. The members of the Three Sects and Five Orders stared dumbfounded at the new Sect Leader of the Zhuyin Sect — whom jianghu rumor had painted as “reclusive and conciliatory.” At the very same moment, the members of the Zhuyin Sect stared equally dumbfounded at their own Sect Leader — whom they had imagined to be “weak and incompetent.” Both sides of the confrontation, enemies though they were, were equally shocked out of their wits!

And yet Yun Changliu was already surrounded by Gui Xu Gate’s disciples. The Sect Leader’s expression did not change. His figure moved, and the silver whip swept wide and sweeping again and again in great, open arcs. Gui Xu Gate disciples attempted to resist, only to fall one after another like melons being sliced apart.

Among the most astounded onlookers was, without question, Ghost Gate’s Gate Master Xue Duxing — Elder Xue. For before the battle had begun, the Sect Leader had dispatched Wen Feng to relay a message to him, saying that this time he would not be fighting alongside them, and had entrusted Xue Duxing with full authority over Ghost Gate’s deployment.

Xue Duxing had taken “not fighting alongside them” to mean that the Sect Leader would remain inside Xifeng City without coming out. How could he possibly have imagined it would mean this! Their young Sect Leader — how had he charged alone with a single whip straight into the enemy’s encirclement!?

Xue Duxing snapped back to his senses on the verge of frantic panic and immediately flung his arm up and bellowed, “Move! Members of Ghost Gate, quickly follow the Sect Leader—”

There were two meanings layered in that single shout: the first was to seize the momentum and rally morale; the second was that he feared Yun Changliu had thrown himself headfirst into the enemy’s encirclement and would not be able to get back out.

But it was not long before Xue Duxing discovered…

Their Sect Leader truly was as good as his word — they could not keep up!

Yun Changliu had no intention of lingering there in battle. In a few lashes he shredded Gui Xu Gate’s formation to tatters, then launched himself on his qinggong and pressed deeper into the fray. The Ghost Gate members trailing behind were left frantic and helpless, able only to watch as the Sect Leader’s silhouette grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

Yun Changliu’s mind was perfectly cool. He knew that although the Zhuyin Sect’s position was now greatly advantageous and morale was soaring high, the enemy still had the numbers. His goal was to cut down the backbone of each faction, forcing them into disarray.

But just then — amid the chaos of flashing blades — Yun Changliu caught, from the corner of his eye, a black shadow flickering at his side. In an instant, a cold glitter of weapons erupted as several disciples of the Three Sects and Five Orders cried out in shock and collapsed, spraying blood.

— A Yin Ghost?

The Sect Leader’s heart gave a faint start. He had not held back his strength here at all — he had not expected that… a Yin Ghost who could actually keep up with him would appear?

But there was no time to dwell on it. Yun Changliu had already abandoned the Gui Xu Gate disciples and was now deep within Xuan Yang Sect’s formation, surrounded on all sides by red-coated Xuan Yang disciples.

Xuan Yang Sect was known throughout the jianghu — moderately famed — for the Xuan Yang Sword Art, which specialized in a fierce, bold, and imposing sword intent. Three Xuan Yang disciples charged forward with furious war cries, but Yun Changliu broke their sword intent with a single crack of his whip, sending three longswords in succession flying upward into the air.

Yet in the very next moment, five more sword tips aligned at the Sect Leader’s back. Seizing the instant when Yun Changliu’s old force was spent and new force had not yet risen, five Xuan Yang disciples attacked simultaneously from behind, thrusting their swords at him in unison!

Yun Changliu’s expression darkened; he was about to flip his whip back in a counter when a series of anguished screams erupted behind him.

The black shadow had dropped silently at his back. Sword edge met sword edge; sparks flew in every direction as all five longswords were blocked and deflected by the shadow’s single force. Not only that — the shadow wounded two of the Xuan Yang disciples as well!

Something shifted subtly in Yun Changliu’s thoughts. Keeping his hand moving — the Dragon-Chasing Whip hacking and sweeping without pause — he turned his gaze back over his shoulder.

In that glancing look behind him, he saw a lean and slender silhouette keeping close, hovering protectively at his side like a shadow. Dark hair bound high, black garments, black armor — unmistakably the Yin Ghost attire of the Zhuyin Sect.

This Yin Ghost had an extraordinarily keen bearing. Both hands gripped longswords; his movements left no trace to follow. His killing was vicious, decisive, ruthless — nearly every strike landed precisely on the most lethal part of the opponent’s body. Yun Changliu and this Yin Ghost fought back-to-back in the midst of Xuan Yang Sect’s encirclement, and yet no one could come near either of them.

In the dark of night, droplets of blood flew without cease. The sounds of slaughter on all sides remained unrelenting. Fallen figures gradually multiplied.

Little by little, the more the Sect Leader fought, the more his thoughts began to drift. He could not help stealing glances at the Yin Ghost in the gaps between strikes — and the longer he looked, the more moved he became.

This Yin Ghost… what truly superb skill.

When, he wondered, had such a figure appeared within Ghost Gate?

Ah, yes — Ghost Gate had convened an intake not long ago…

Could this perhaps be a Yin Ghost from the newly admitted cohort?

Before long, the Xuan Yang Sect disciples finally scattered and fled in all directions, and no one nearby dared approach any longer. Yun Changliu did not hurry to press on to the next position. He drew the long whip back into his hand and said, “Yin Ghost, show yourself.”

The black shadow landed behind the Sect Leader; the sound of a knee touching ground was almost imperceptible. The Yin Ghost knelt on one knee before Yun Changliu. He had sustained some wounds; his breathing was faintly uneven. The twin swords, held in pale hands, hung at his sides, and blood was dripping from the tips of the blades.

The Sect Leader turned back to look. He had rarely felt moved to offer unsolicited praise, but the expression on his face had already gone cold and still the moment his gaze landed on the face guard of that Yin Ghost.

Yun Changliu said, “Raise your head.”

The Sect Leader’s order was given. The Yin Ghost was silent; then, at the call, he raised his face.

On the left side of the pitch-black Yin Ghost face guard, there was — unmistakably — a deep, carved scratch.

In that moment, Yun Changliu was shaken enough to lose the composure that was always his.

A carved mark on the face guard — the mark of a Broken Ghost…

How could this be?

This Yin Ghost was clearly outstanding in both martial skill and character. The way he wielded his twin swords was genuinely astonishing, and Yun Changliu had even, while fighting back-to-back with him, dimly sensed something that felt like a rare and effortless meeting of minds. The Sect Leader had already made up his mind in private to promote him the moment they returned to the city…

Yet such a rare and exceptional talent — why did he have to be a Broken Ghost!

A Broken Ghost… that meant a man who was broken and near death…

A pang of regret rose unbidden in Yun Changliu’s heart. He stared in silence at that jarring scratch, saying nothing.

As though seeing straight through what was in the Sect Leader’s mind, the Yin Ghost lifted the lower edge of his face guard open by a sliver, spat out a mouthful of clotted blood, then covered the black guard back over again with composure, and said steadily, “Though this body is already half spent, it can still serve the Sect Leader. If the Sect Leader moves forward, this subordinate will follow close behind.”

Whether from injury or blood loss, the Yin Ghost’s voice was somewhat hoarse, somewhat trembling — yet still piercingly cold, and pleasing to the ear.

Yun Changliu lowered his gaze and exhaled a quiet sigh. His thin lips parted as though about to speak.

— Then, at that very moment, a sword flash blazed at the Sect Leader’s back!

The sword came with fierce momentum; its sword intent blazed fierce as the burning sun. The blade had not yet arrived, yet Yun Changliu already felt the heat on his back — this was the ninth form of the Xuan Yang Sword Art. “The Sun Falls to Sangyu.”

The strike was clearly unexpected and extraordinarily lethal. The internal energy behind it was utterly beyond comparison with the ordinary Xuan Yang disciples from moments ago. And yet Yun Changliu seemed to have been on guard all along. He had just raised his whip to turn around when a black shadow swept past at his side — the Yin Ghost had already charged forward!

Another jolt of surprise within Yun Changliu’s thoughts. He had deliberately lingered here to call that Yin Ghost out — not only out of curiosity about this supremely skilled Yin Ghost, but also with the intention of feigning carelessness to lure an enemy attack.

And indeed, Xuan Yang Sect’s Elder Xiao Yuanshan had made his move. Yet this Yin Ghost was faster than him — in the instant Yun Changliu had begun to turn, the Yin Ghost had taken a step ahead and gone out to meet the attack…

This could only mean one thing: the Yin Ghost had been prepared all along as well, quietly vigilant at all times like a seasoned hunter, waiting for the hidden enemy to walk into the trap.

Yun Changliu was half a step too slow, and could only watch as figures and sword light erupted before him, blood spraying and metal clashing in sharp, rapid succession. In the blink of an eye, two figures grappled together and fell from mid-air to the ground.

…Xiao Yuanshan was already a corpse that would not close its eyes. The Yin Ghost struggled to prop himself up and knelt half on the ground. The Ghost Gate armor that had protected his body had been slashed to shreds. His abdomen bore a gruesome gash, and blood poured from it without stopping.

A mutual-wound exchange.

“……”

Yun Changliu pressed his brow, his expression darkening.

Trading a thousand wounds to the enemy for eight hundred to oneself — a mutual-wound exchange was a common technique of Ghost Gate. The one this Yin Ghost had just executed was genuinely beautiful, one that could even be called breathtaking.

Yet the Sect Leader could not bring himself to feel any inclination to praise it.

He finally understood, now, why this person had ended up a Broken Ghost.