Chapter 185: A New Day Has Arrived

Chapter 185: A New Day Has Come

Beneath the towering, city-crushing black clouds, at the desolate peak of an abandoned skyscraper.

"Your bones are quite sturdy; even now, you won't confess?"

The torrential wind and rain tore the cold voice into hollow, illusory fragments, as if emanating from the netherworld.

"I know nothing, how can I confess? I am but an ordinary imperial commoner. Have you mistaken me for someone else, sir?"

The man knelt on the ground, shaking his head in terrified expression.

His current state was utterly wretched, half his body cleaved by a blade, the exposed mechanical bones cradling innards half flesh, half metal.

His frame swayed, spilling copious amounts of milky synthetic blood, soon washed away by the downpour.

Wang Xie gazed at the innocent face before him, his eyes devoid of any pity, coldly remarking:

"Iron Arm' Zhou Qidong, mech-soul pioneer of the Eighth Division, former commander of the Jinzhou Guard in Liaodong, now the owner of the 'Eden Courtesan House' in the Chongqing Mansion's Yu District.

"You've stained your hands with over a dozen lives. To claim yourself an imperial commoner—is that not a touch disgraceful?"

"I have reformed!"

Wang Xie sneered with disdain, "If everyone could wash away their sins by claiming reform, what need have we for the Great Ming Laws?"

Zhou Qidong lamented, "You are a cat, I am a mouse. If it were for other matters you sought to arrest me, I would have no complaints. But I truly have no ties to Hong He!"

Before his mournful cry ended, Zhou Qidong suddenly felt a pang at his chest, his eyes widening in horror.

A long blade pierced his chest, slowly sliding along the mechanical bone seams, reaching the mechanical heart.

The intense pain caused his frame to stiffen abruptly.

"You truly fear not the coffin until you see it!"

Wang Xie flicked his fingers, and the Wuchang Book ring on his middle finger projected a palm-sized hologram.

The scene displayed was none other than the entrance of the Eden Courtesan House. Around it, a bleak wind and bitter rain, a figure slumped in filth, raising its head to let out a long howl.

"Gong, Qing, Hong!!!"

The image froze on the screaming face, then zoomed in frame by frame.

"Zhou Qidong, do not tell me this is not your shop, not your man."

Wang Xie twisted his wrist, the tip of the Baihe Blade tapping the unmoving mechanical heart.

Zhou Qidong urgently defended, "It is my shop, but this Gu Yong, the turtle master, was one I hired with silver. I knew not he was Hong He's puppet underling! I beg you, sir, investigate thoroughly!"

Wang Xie sneered, "Gu Yong merely shouted the name of Gong Qinghong. How do you know he's an undercover agent? Do not rush to jump into the pit yourself."

Zhou Qidong lowered his head, his lips trembling, unable to speak, his eyelids fluttering rapidly, his mind racing like lightning.

"Zhou Qidong, the offenses you committed in the Far East could be overlooked by the Banner. But your collusion with Hong He—this crime alone is enough to doom your consciousness in the Imperial Prison for ten years as a living corpse."

Wang Xie's voice was icy and grim, "You are a man who has seen the world; you understand the horrors of the Imperial Prison!"

Zhou Qidong's face turned as white as paper, his entire body shaking like a sieve.

"However,"

Wang Xie's tone softened, "If you cooperate fully with the Jinyiwei, tell me where Gong Qinghong is hiding, I can deem you a voluntary surrender, and reassign you as an informant. Perhaps then, you may avoid the Imperial Prison."

Zhou Qidong's lips quivered, his teeth chattering, his expression torn between conflict, a look of inner struggle.

"Think carefully—the fate of those who associated with Hong He. Do not bring ruin upon yourself!"

"I I..."

Just as Wang Xie believed he had cracked the man's resolve, Zhou Qidong's complex expression suddenly faded, replaced by an unnerving calm.

Zhou Qidong thrust his chest forward, straightening his spine against the blade's tip, lifting his face to gaze at Wang Xie with eerie tranquility.

"If you have only this evidence, then I am truly wronged."

Wang Xie froze, his expression of shock, "What did you say?"

"The Great Ming Laws are clear: conviction requires both witness and evidence. Now that Gu Yong is dead, this surveillance footage alone cannot condemn me."

Damn it, still a thief who knows the law.

Wang Xie cursed inwardly, irritably rubbing his face.

Seeing Zhou Qidong's unyielding, stubborn demeanor, Wang Xie's anger flared. He reached up, tugged at his coat's collar, and a red-glowing button slowly extinguished.

Having mingled in the Chongqing Mansion for so many years, Zhou Qidong had heard whispers of the Jinyiwei's procedures.

At this moment, seeing Wang Xie deactivate the direct link to the Wuchang Book's recorder, his heart leapt in alarm.

"What do you intend?"

Zuddenly, Zhou Qidong felt a tremendous force at his shoulder, and the mechanical bones along his spine let out a mournful creak.

Crack!

After a sharp sound, a cold gleaming section of spine jutted out from Zhou Qidong's chest, his once-straight back hunched once more.

Agony contorted the horizontal muscles on his face; he could not even manage a scream, urgently roaring, "Wang Xie, this is abuse of private torture—you break the law!"

"Now you fear?"

Wang Xie's face showed mocking amusement. He rotated his wrist, the blade slapping the man's cheek with a crisp crackling sound.

"Where exactly is Gong Qinghong hiding? Speak!"

Slap!

The blade whipped sideways, sending Zhou Qidong's mangled body flying.

When Zhou Qidong raised his face again, his eyes were clouded with despair, his voice hoarse as he asked, "If I confess everything, will you truly spare me?"

"The Jinyiwei of the Chongqing Mansion kills, but does not deceive. Confess now, and my earlier words hold. If you dare play tricks again, I swear you will perish in the Imperial Prison alongside the empire's legacy."

Wang Xie narrowed his eyes, enunciating each word: "For a thousand autumns, ten thousand generations."

A deep dread surfaced on Zhou Qidong's face, devouring the lingering hesitation in his eyes.

"Gong Qinghong is in the Chongqing Mansion's..."

Perhaps due to his severe injuries, Zhou Qidong's voice was weak.

Wang Xie frowned and approached, "Where in the Chongqing Mansion?"

At that moment, a vicious glint emerged in Zhou Qidong's eyes!

His jaw suddenly snapped open like a serpent, a blood shadow shooting from his mouth straight for Wang Xie's throat!

Swift as lightning, it erupted in a terrifying screech.

At such close range, Zhou Qidong did not believe the Jinyiwei before him could react in time.

This was his desperate last resort!

Clang!

In the resonant ring of the blade, the malice in Zhou Qidong's eyes swiftly turned to shock.

Pfft!

The blade's light arrived before the strike, cleaving the tongue acting as a hidden weapon.

Two severed tongues scraped past Wang Xie’s temple, darting into the night and vanishing without a trace.

“You actually had a rural artisan forge your tongue into a concealed weapon—how delightfully novel.”

The fatal strike, meant to end him, was so casually defused that fear finally crept onto Zhou Qidong’s face.

Without a tongue, he emitted a muffled whimper, then spoke through the communicator embedded in his body.

“I surrender.”

Wang Xie shook his head. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

The blade flashed, and a head rolled away.

In truth, with Zhou Qidong’s level of cybernetic augmentation, survival from decapitation was nearly impossible.

Yet Wang Xie showed no intention to cease, driving his blade into the opponent’s chest and slowly stirring until the mechanical heart was utterly shattered. Only then did he withdraw the embroidered spring blade.

“Ambition of a mighty hawk, fearless of death—so infuriatingly tedious!”

When in a foul mood, even the raindrops grew irksome.

Wang Xie’s grip on the hilt trembled slightly, and the embroidered spring blade rang out with a clang, transforming into an unremarkable black umbrella above his head.

The multifunctional impermanent ledger ring on his finger quivered. After a brief pause, a hoarse yet magnetic voice emerged from it.

“How’s it going?”

“No surrender. I killed him.”

Wang Xie hesitated, then voiced his doubt.

“Boss, wasn’t Li Jun just a lone heir of Wu Qi? Do we really need to clean up his mess?”

“You don’t understand.”

A cold reply came from the other end of the ring, followed by a click as the line went dead.

“Tch. What’s there to understand? Wasn’t it just your nephew Le Zhong who left him a measuring blade? Let him tend to it—why the fuss, old man?”

Wang Xie shook his head, muttering under his breath.

He leaned on the umbrella and slowly approached the edge of the skyscraper, gazing down at the glittering metropolis below, thick with desire and the scent of wealth.

“Wu masters ride the Buddha’s path, yin and yang vie for supremacy. Ambitions of great birds, blades sharpened beneath brocade robes. This Chongqing Mansion shall know no peace.”

As he mused, Wang Xie suddenly stepped forward, plummeting from the tower.

The violent, chaotic wind whipped his clothes into a rustling din, silver light flashing across his black robes, outlining intricate flying-fish patterns.

These peculiar markings harnessed the rushing gusts, slowing his descent into something graceful and weightless.

Like a black eagle piercing through the storm-laden night, he hurtled toward the city with ruthless precision.

Clang!

At that moment, amid the wind and rain, a resonant bell chimed.

A Daoist projection surged upward, its fingers wielding wind and rain as ink, brushing forth a message in flowing script.

“Midnight wanes; the new day approaches.”

“On the 20th day of the 7th month, Jiaqi Year 11, the Daoist Sect’s Qixia Group celebrates the birthday of Liu Zu Changsheng Zhenren!”