WJ Chapter 122

No Clothes (6)

Watching Yun Changliu — who had “said far too many words” — slumped lifelessly across the desk, unwilling to move so much as a muscle, the nearly tearful Wen Feng’s mouth twitched wildly before finally, helplessly, settling into a bitter smile.

This particular brand of exhaustion… could only belong to his Sect Leader.

But thinking it over more carefully, the Sect Leader had spent five full years alone in the Wuze Realm, and the moment he emerged he was forced to deal with all manner of people both inside and outside the sect — truly no small hardship.

Here was a man who wished nothing more than to be left in solitude from dawn to dusk, yet for the sake of his father and the Zhuhuo Guards, he had forced himself to do the very things he had once despised most. That feeling must not have been easy to bear.

Wen Feng let out a quiet, gentle sigh. “Since the Sect Leader is tired, please rest now,” he said softly. “After the chaos of last night’s battle, the elders of the sect will surely want to retire once the victory banquet is over.”

As the attendant spoke, he stepped forward to help Yun Changliu out of his robes. But drawing a few steps closer, he suddenly started in alarm. “Sect Leader! Your jade pendant — where is it?”

“This lord lent it out. It will be returned tomorrow,” Yun Changliu finally deigned to lift his face, his voice muffled. “…Whatever you do, don’t let Father know.”

Wen Feng was surprised at first to hear the Sect Leader had lent it out, but he knew the Sect Leader was not a reckless person, and even less likely to trifle with Lady Lan’s keepsake, so he didn’t dwell on it.

Then he heard that “don’t let Father know,” and couldn’t help but think — since the Sect Leader emerged from the Wuze Realm, or perhaps more accurately, since the Young Sect Leader lost his memories, five years had passed. This was truly the first time he had seen the Sect Leader reveal such small, unguarded emotions so openly. It was genuinely rare. Wen Feng hadn’t the heart to press further, and simply attended Yun Changliu as he went behind the screen to bathe and change, then lay down on the bed.

The layers of bed curtains were lowered. The attendant bowed toward the bed and murmured, “May the Sect Leader rest well,” then retreated.

Before closing his eyes, Yun Changliu found himself thinking once more of that Yin Ghost.

Those piercing twin blades. And those beautiful eyes.

In truth, tired as he was, he was far from the point of being unable to endure. Part of him had quite wanted to summon that Yin Ghost for an audience right then and there.

But the Sect Leader remembered that he had been seriously injured, and was perhaps also resting now. Unwilling to trouble a wounded person at this hour, he decided it was better to sleep first and make arrangements in the morning.

Yun Changliu lay with his eyes closed, thoughts in disarray, his mind drifting gently to that Yin Ghost, until he slipped into sleep.

He dreamed — something remarkably rare for him.

In the dream: a figure dressed in black.

…

Yet, as fate would have it, the one within Ghost Gate failed to live up to the Sect Leader’s consideration.

Guan Wujue was still sitting against the wall in the same spot as before. He had only roughly tended and bandaged his wounds before taking up that half-piece of jade pendant and beginning his vigil there.

After a long while, truly unable to hold out against the weakness of his body, he couldn’t stay sitting any longer and shifted to lying down, closing his eyes and pressing the jade pendant against his heart.

Guan Wujue curled up in that dim, cold corner of the wall — eyes shut, but mind wide awake — until the sky grew light. By the time all the Yin Ghosts who had gone into battle had returned to rest, he was still lying there on the ground, motionless, drawing dozens of looks that one might give a madman.

Guan Wujue couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge any of them.

After staring at the ceiling for too long and growing thoroughly bored, he shifted to staring at the main gate, quietly beginning to brood.

He knew, rationally, that in his current state — gravely injured, having lost much blood — and safely within Ghost Gate, on any ordinary day a person like him who hadn’t even lost consciousness should have been dead to the world by now. But today was different, and truly it wasn’t that he was doing this deliberately. In a word…

He had been far too exhilarated last night, and now he simply could not sleep.

He was genuinely exhausted, utterly drained — yet every time he closed his eyes, the image of Yun Changliu filled his mind. With his heart surging like that, how could he possibly sleep peacefully?

Time passed slowly. Even Guan Wujue could tell this couldn’t go on.

If he didn’t get some sleep soon, and the Sect Leader summoned him — what if his mental state was too poor and he disgraced himself?

Of course, the likelihood of the Sect Leader personally summoning a Yin Ghost was vanishingly small. Far more probable was that someone would be sent to collect the jade pendant and be done with it. But… but what if? What if, against all odds?

— No, the more he thought about it, the less he could sleep!

After tossing and turning for a long time with no success, Guan Wujue had no choice but to give up and wait patiently for some resolution.

Whether the Sect Leader was willing to see him, or someone came to collect the pendant, or he finally lost consciousness and collapsed — any of those would count as an ending.

Eventually, Xue Duxing and Shan Yi both returned from the victory banquet. Guan Wujue was still curled up in that corner like a dead man. His ghost face guard had been removed and set face-down on the ground, concealing the spot where the Sect Leader had smoothed away the scratches.

The Gate Master had returned, yet Guan Wujue had not used the jade pendant Yun Changliu gave him to clear away the mark of a Broken Ghost from himself.

This was a small act of selfishness on his part. After all, once Xue Duxing saw this jade pendant of such extraordinary significance, nine times out of ten he would not permit it to remain in the hands of a mere Yin Ghost.

If he could conceal it a little longer, he could pretend to steal just a little more of the Sect Leader’s warmth from that smooth, cool piece of jade. Guan Wujue was quite content to deceive himself this way.

…It was plainly obvious that by this point he had already gone somewhat out of his mind, and it hadn’t even occurred to him: what would happen if the pendant were taken away, and he’d lost the Broken Ghost mark with no way to prove otherwise?

And so Guan Wujue waited — from that night all the way through to the following afternoon — and against all odds, he actually got what he was waiting for.

A command came down from the Sect Leader. He truly wanted to see him.

The moment he rose from the ground, Guan Wujue discovered he had indeed been overthinking things. Never mind sleepy or tired — he seemed, if anything, more alert than when he had gone into battle.

He shook his head with a rueful smile as he efficiently fastened his face guard back into place, thinking to himself: if he kept running on empty like this, once he returned from seeing the Sect Leader, he’d probably fall seriously ill.

But… who cares. Obviously he would see the Sect Leader first, and worry about the rest later.

A man on the verge of death — every extra glance was a gift!

Guan Wujue wandered through these scattered, nonsensical thoughts while maintaining a perfectly composed exterior, yet with a heart brimming with elation, as he stepped out of Ghost Gate and passed by that vermilion cinnabar plum tree.

As he descended the mountain path outside Ghost Gate, the trembling in his heart only grew harder to suppress. Afraid of making the Sect Leader wait impatiently, he even begrudged the few steps it took to walk there.

He was just about to use the methods typical of Yin Ghosts and simply vanish and flash over using lightness technique — when he suddenly spotted two Zhuhuo Guards members walking toward him up ahead. Guan Wujue vaguely caught their murmurs; they were marveling at the Sect Leader’s martial prowess from the night before. Unable to resist listening more closely, his pace slowed slightly.

That one slight slowing — and something happened.

He heard one of the members say:

“Seeing how formidable our new Sect Leader is… could it be that the rumor about him entering the Wuze Realm alone to train for five years… was actually true?”

“Now that I think about it, it must be — I didn’t believe it before!”

Just a couple of idle whispered guesses between sect members, but falling on Guan Wujue’s ears, they struck like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky.

As though his chest had been dealt a savage blow from a heavy hammer, Guan Wujue staggered two sudden steps and nearly lost his footing. Beneath the face guard, his pale lips trembled without cease. He barely managed to slip past the sight of those two members, suppressing his presence and hiding behind a tree — yet his mind was in complete chaos, ears ringing shrilly and relentlessly.

Entering the Wuze Realm alone…

Training for five years…

The old wound on his heart meridian suddenly seized with a wrenching, twisting pain. Guan Wujue broke into a cold sweat, biting down hard on his lip. In his daze, the image of Yun Changliu from their reunion on the battlefield outside the city came flooding back to him.

…The Sect Leader had changed. He was colder, more distant, more sparing with words than before — even that small trace of softness from his younger years had been honed into the sharpness of an ice-edged sword.

But he had thought — he had thought — that was merely the killing intent directed at those who came to attack!

How could it — how could it — be like this!?

Guan Wujue felt the world spinning. Those five years in Ghost Gate, he had kept Yun Changliu as the obsession that sustained him, the one point of light he held onto. He had believed that the Young Sect Leader, having escaped the fate of being devoured by that deadly poison, would have a bright and open future ahead — carefree and joyful…

How could he have known — that all those times he had been fantasizing about what wonderful days Young Sect Leader Changliu must be living, the very person he held in his heart was himself suffering injury and bleeding, tasting every manner of hardship!

Thinking that Yun Changliu had endured five years of suffering alone within those trap formations behind the stone walls — Guan Wujue felt his heart was on the verge of shattering. A thousand kinds of anguish gnawed at him until he was lost and didn’t know what to do with himself.

But no matter how much his heart ached, no matter how wretched he felt — those five years were gone, and could never be reclaimed…

The two sect members slowly walked past him, some ten-odd steps away, never noticing the Yin Ghost hidden there. Their lamenting continued:

“Though this Sect Leader Changliu seems a touch too kind-hearted, don’t you think? Look at how the senior elders have been disrespecting the Sect Leader these past few days — if it were the old Sect Leader, heh! He wouldn’t even need to give the order; he’d have grabbed his whip and laid into them himself.”

“True enough — especially the Left Envoy… tsk. I just walked past the Yangxin Hall not long ago, and that Left Envoy Liu and the Sect Leader were at it again. I hear they’re arguing over what to do with the prisoners from the Three Gates and Five Orders…”

“Ah, don’t even mention it — I heard that up on the city walls that day, the Left Envoy struck the Sect Leader across the face several times in public, and the Sect Leader didn’t even strike back.”

“Wait, that’s not right — I heard it was the Left Envoy taking liberties with the Sect Leader, pawing and groping him?”

“Eh, who knows. Maybe he hit him first and then groped him?”

“Though come to think of it, our new Sect Leader really is remarkably good-looking. They say those eyes and brows take after Lady Lan…”

“…”

“…”

And this is why rumors are such a terrifying thing.

In the span of just a few days, “touched his face” had been transmuted into “slapped him several times across the face” and “pawing and groping him.”

Truly — careless words are a fearsome force.

It was also said that many years later, Sect Leader Yun would lie with his head pillowed in the lap of his beloved Protector, lazily threading his fingers through the Protector’s hanging hair, while very earnestly schooling that person in the principle of “neither believe nor spread rumors.”

However — no matter how devoted the Zhuyin Sect Leader and his Four Directions Protector would become in the days ahead — the catastrophe that was now unfolding… could no longer be avoided.

…

When Guan Wujue entered Yangxin Hall, not only was Liu Wanjun present, but all the other senior high-ranking figures of the Zhuyin Sect were there as well — it appeared a meeting was in session.

Liu Wanjun stood front and center with his chest puffed out and his chin raised, face flushed and neck red, as if he had just been ranting passionately and was now catching his breath.

In the midst of such an occasion, a Yin Ghost clad in black armor suddenly walked in through the main doors with lowered eyes and a bowed head — it was exceedingly bizarre.

For a moment, every gaze in the hall converged on Guan Wujue. But the latter simply observed the protocol befitting a Yin Ghost: he went before Yun Changliu, sank to one knee, and said in a low voice, “This subordinate pays respects to the Sect Leader.”

Yun Changliu sat at the head of the hall. The few threads of irritation and weariness between his brows hadn’t quite had time to settle — yet seeing the Yin Ghost he had been thinking about for half the day, his mood lifted slightly. He gave a light wave of his fingers. “Rise. Stand to one side for now.”

“Yes.”

Guan Wujue answered softly and rose naturally to his feet.

In the instant of rising, he let his downcast eyes lift, and glimpsed a faint flash of cold light cross Yun Changliu’s face.

The change in expression was so minute that no one would have seen it — even Wen Feng would have found it difficult to discern its true meaning.

But Guan Wujue understood.

He could tell: the Sect Leader wanted Liu Wanjun dead.

The last thread of hesitation. The last thread of restraint. The last thread of reason.

In that single moment, they snapped — without a sound.

The dark depths of his eyes flooded with an even deeper, more fathomless color. Guan Wujue lowered his gaze, letting his long lashes curtain the darkness in his pupils. He steadied his breathing and straightened.

The straightened Yin Ghost turned and walked toward the back.

As though he were following the Sect Leader’s order to step to the side.

He walked with his head bowed, passing along Liu Wanjun’s right.

A brush of shoulders — over in an instant.

Liu Wanjun paid this Yin Ghost no mind. He opened his mouth, his tone sharp and cutting with mockery. “So, Sect Leader, I would ask that you…”

In that exact moment, killing intent erupted in the Yin Ghost’s eyes. His left hand drew his long sword, the blade ringing bright as it cleared the scabbard. A blinding flash of cold light swept in a long arc from right to left — straight toward Liu Wanjun’s heart!

No one could have imagined that a Yin Ghost would strike at the Left Envoy of the Zhuyin Sect and a Hall Master. No one could have imagined the Yin Ghost would draw his sword with his left hand. And no one could have imagined that the blade of this Yin Ghost would be so fast — so devastatingly keen.

Liu Wanjun let out a cry of terrified rage, desperately trying to dodge — already too late. Guan Wujue thrust the tip of his sword forward and drove it straight through Liu Wanjun’s broad chest!

In an instant, Yangxin Hall erupted into absolute pandemonium!

“You — you!!?”

Liu Wanjun’s mouth filled with blood, his eyes wide with the fury of a man staring down death. He was the Left Envoy of the Zhuyin Sect after all — no ordinary martial artist. Even taken completely by surprise by Guan Wujue, he had managed at the very last second to shift just enough to spare his heart from the blow.

But having struck, Guan Wujue could not afford to let him live. The eyes behind the face guard burned with lethal ferocity. Like a man transformed into a rabid wolf, he drew the sword in his right hand as well!

Liu Wanjun spat blood in a torrent, yet fought back on the instinct of a trained warrior. The will to survive drove him to summon every last ounce of his strength. One hand clamped desperately around the blade buried in his chest; the other curled into a claw and drove toward the Yin Ghost’s throat!

Simultaneously, the elite masters of the Zhuyin Sect throughout Yangxin Hall snapped back to their senses. Shouting and snarling, they surged toward that suddenly berserk Yin Ghost, intent on forcing him back.

Guan Wujue didn’t dodge. He didn’t spare a single glance for the techniques raining down on his vital points. The moment killing intent arose, it had consumed every last fragment of his mind. His eyes held only Liu Wanjun — only the terrified, contorted face of the Zhuyin Sect’s Left Envoy.

God only knew — only God knew — how he had made it this far, and what strength of will it had just taken him to contain his killing intent without letting a single drop leak out!

His Sect Leader had been bullied…

His Sect Leader had been…

His Sect Leader…!!

A maddened inferno of rage, savagery, loathing, and hatred nearly burned through every organ in his body. Guan Wujue was not unaware that if he didn’t pull back and defend himself now, there would be no way out for him — but did he fear death?

Even if it truly cost him his life, he would kill the wretch before him who had dared to humiliate his Sect Leader — before he died!

A razor’s edge, a flash of lightning!

A small, nimble shadow suddenly shot through the air — and in the instant before Liu Wanjun’s fingers could plunge into the Yin Ghost’s throat, it crashed down onto the Left Envoy’s wrist with the force of a thousand pounds. There was a sharp crack of bone, and that right hand went limp and dangling, utterly incapable of harming anyone.

And in almost the very same heartbeat — Guan Wujue’s sword swept off Liu Wanjun’s head!

Blood sprayed across Yangxin Hall. The assault of the Zhuyin Sect’s assembled members stuttered to an abrupt halt. Every face wore an expression of shock — and not a single one dared raise a hand against that Yin Ghost again.

They had all clearly seen it: that small shadow that had fallen to the ground was a paperweight — now stained with blood.

And a moment before… it had been sitting on the desk within the Sect Leader’s reach.

….

Outside Yangxin Hall, Xiao Donghe was bounding up the long steps in a cold sweat.

He’d heard word that his Hall Master and the new Sect Leader were at it again, and his gut immediately told him this was going to be bad. He had rushed over, hoping to try and play peacemaker.

He wasn’t close with this Left Envoy Liu — but the man was his direct superior, after all. When the time came to smooth things over and clean up the mess, you still had to show up.

He had only just reached the entrance of the hall when his gaze went sharp.

He saw a reddish, rounded object arc swiftly out from inside the hall and slam against the ground outside, then roll toward him — closer and closer.

A normal person, seeing a spherical object rolling toward them, would naturally and instinctively do a certain thing.

Xiao Donghe extended his foot with a puzzled frown and stopped the spherical object.

Then he glanced down — and was met with the sight of his own Hall Master’s head, eyes wide and staring in lifeless outrage, right there beneath his foot.

The Deputy Hall Master, who was currently standing on his Hall Master’s forehead: “…………………………..”

Xiao Donghe went rigid as a pale gray stone statue and slowly looked up.

And then, he saw a Yin Ghost in black coming out of the hall, walking toward him step by step — wreathed in such murderous ferocity that the figure truly resembled a demon crawled up from the depths of the underworld.

The Yin Ghost walked to his side and stopped, without looking at him. From behind the face guard came a voice — low, cold. “Move.”

Xiao Donghe mechanically shifted his foot and took a step to the side.

He was just thinking to himself what is wrong with this Yin Ghost — when he watched the figure plant a foot squarely on Liu Wanjun’s severed head. The beautiful eyes behind that face guard blazed with surging murderous intent, and then suddenly drove down with crushing force —

There came the crisp crack of a skull shattering. Liu Wanjun’s head was stamped directly into pieces beneath the Yin Ghost’s foot. Blood and brain matter erupted upward several feet into the air.

That red-and-white, deeply revolting liquid splattered across two people — face, neck, and body — from head to toe.

The Deputy Hall Master, now wearing his Hall Master’s brain matter across his face: “…………………………..”

The Yin Ghost stared fixedly at the pool of blood and shattered bone, breathing hard and ragged, shoulders trembling faintly — and to the eyes of anyone who didn’t know better, it looked almost as though he were the one who had suffered some tremendous grievance.

After a long moment, the Yin Ghost drew a deep breath. Without a glance at the paralyzed Xiao Donghe, he turned and walked back into Yangxin Hall — and dropped to both knees before the Sect Leader.

Inside Yangxin Hall: the thick smell of blood.

Liu Wanjun’s headless body still lay where it had fallen.

Everyone was utterly silent — including Ghost Gate Master Xue Duxing — all of them reeling from the sudden upheaval, hearts and souls shaken to the core.

No one understood how a meeting had suddenly been interrupted by a Yin Ghost who had walked in and killed the Zhuyin Sect’s Left Envoy with two sword strokes — while the Sect Leader had protected him…

A terrible thought surfaced simultaneously in every mind:

Could it be… that this Yin Ghost was arranged by the Sect Leader in advance?

The Sect Leader foresaw that Liu Wanjun would be disrespectful again, and used this to establish his authority!?

Everyone watched the Sect Leader with fear and unease, waiting for his reaction. Now, with a single word from Yun Changliu, the entire situation would turn in one of two completely different directions.

Yun Changliu squeezed his eyes shut, his face tinged a faint greenish pallor.

Then he raised a hand and pointed toward the inner chamber, saying to Guan Wujue kneeling below. “You’re filthy. Go and bathe and change before coming back out.”

…Just like that — glossed over so lightly?!

So it really was about establishing authority!!

Instantly the looks everyone directed at Yun Changliu shifted. Good heavens — who had ever called this young Sect Leader soft-hearted and gentle? His methods were clearly ruthless in the extreme!

The Yin Ghost — coated head to toe in that red-and-white matter, blood still dripping steadily from the ends of his hair — lowered his eyes and bowed his head. And then, in a tone that was utterly composed, perfectly steady, and not the least bit lacking in deference, Guan Wujue said, “Sect Leader, this subordinate has no change of clothes. It would be better for this subordinate to return to Ghost Gate—”

“No need.” Yun Changliu cut him off and looked toward his attendant. “Wen Feng — bring him one of this lord’s robes.”

The Yin Ghost was visibly startled. “Sect Leader, this subordinate would not dare—”

Yun Changliu gave his desk a flat-palmed slap and said calmly, “You dared to kill a man. What is there to not dare about putting on a robe? Go.“

Then Yun Changliu turned his gaze outward, seeing Xiao Donghe — who was standing outside Yangxin Hall in an equally thorough coating of blood and brain matter — up and down.

After a moment, the Sect Leader gave a nod and swept his sleeve. “Since the Punishment Hall Master is dead, the Deputy Hall Master shall be promoted.”

The Deputy Hall Master who had just become Hall Master without any warning: “…………………………..”

Xiao Donghe’s handsome face went through an extraordinary series of contortions, and at last he stumbled down with a resounding thud onto his knees. From somewhere deep in his throat came a trembling, pitch-shifted sound — like a man half-groaning — as he squeezed out. “Th-…thank you, Sect Leader, for this… honor…”

Yun Changliu nodded with evident satisfaction.

Xiao Donghe: “This subordinate will su-surely not fail your trust…”

Yun Changliu: “Very good.”

Xiao Donghe: “It’s just — just — just, Sect Leader…”

Yun Changliu, puzzled. “What is it?”

Xiao Donghe shook his head again and again, on the verge of tears. “No, no, it’s nothing, nothing at all…”

— It’s just, Sect Leader — this subordinate would also very much like to bathe and change!!