Chapter 193: Hawk Splits the Python

Chapter 193: The Falcon Tears the Python

Wind and rain darken the sky.

Water trickled down Wang Xie's high nose bridge, striking his parched lips, vanishing without a trace in an instant.

His lips were sealed tight, yet a heavy voice resonated in the Daoist's heart.

"Why do you believe Honghu would grant you Daoist Gate authority?"

"From the moment they chose me, did you think I had a choice? But none of that matters."

The blue-robed Daoist laughed heartily, calm and composed. "True or false, at least they gave me a sliver of hope."

"Zhang Jinyun, I can give you a sliver of hope too, provided you confess who the mastermind is this time, and where they hide."

Wang Xie's expression was solemn. "I guarantee it on my position as Chief Banner Officer of the Second Division of the Embroidered Uniform Guard in Chongqing Prefecture—I can spare your life. If you don't believe me, I can swear on the Great Ming Code."

The Chief Banner Officer of the Embroidered Uniform Guard is a bona fide official registered in the Ministry of Personnel; they are rightly bound and supervised by the Great Ming Code.

Though the current Great Ming Code lacks its former potency, carrying a distinct air of 'existing in name only.'

Yet the Legalists who control the Empire's Three Judicial Offices are a bunch of 'extremely petty' people.

Even if officials of the New Donglin Party are recorded for violating the Code, they will spare no effort in attacking them, hounding them relentlessly.

Even if they can't kill you, they'll disgust you to death.

So Wang Xie's guarantee on the Great Ming Code right now shows he isn't deceiving the Daoist with mere words.

"Even if you don't kill me, what difference is there between entering that Imperial Prison and dying?"

A faint, serene smile appeared on Zhang Jinyun's hideous, terrifying face. "To hear the Dao in the morning, one may die content in the evening. Not hearing the Dao, why fear dying immediately?"

"I—"

Wang Xie had just spoken when he saw the Daoist suddenly raise his hand, clamp onto the long saber, twist his neck, and slam his throat toward the blade.

The Daoist released the blade, his figure staggering, finally collapsing slowly to the ground.

The severed windpipe hissed! Spurting a jet of blood that shot into the air, only to be beaten down by raindrops, falling onto the Daoist's blue robe, blooming into blood-red flowers.

He rallied his last shred of strength, trembling as he pulled a mechanical Dharma bell from his sleeve.

"The Ten Directions of the Yellow Millet Heavens, their number like sand and dust, manifest forms in the Ten Directions, universally ferrying gods and men across."

Crack.

The Dharma bell was crushed to powder under Wang Xie's foot, ground into the mud.

Since he refuses to repent, there is no need for salvation.

"Boss, Zhang Jinyun is dead. Still no info on the mastermind behind the scenes."

Wang Xie's voice sounded somewhat dejected.

As Chief Banner Officer of the Second Division in Chongqing Prefecture, failing twice in a row to extract useful intelligence from criminals dealt a heavy blow to his pride.

He even felt unworthy of the name 'Zongheng' (Vertical and Horizontal/Strategist).

He was clearly an honest man, so why did his awakened genes choose to make him a Zongheng Sequence follower?

Isn't that just bullying an honest person?

"Understood."

The voice returning over the comms wasn't the furious rage Wang Xie anticipated, but remarkably calm.

This made Wang Xie feel even worse; his face turned livid, and he slammed a fist into the tree trunk beside him.

Hongya Mountain, Listening Wind Pavilion.

The white-haired old man hung up the comms, his sharp gaze pinning the pile of fat that was Jin Shenghuo's face.

"Speak. Who did Honghu send this time?"

Jin Shenghuo looked awkward, raising a hand to wipe his temple, probing, "That traitor from the Sparrow System, Gong Qinghong?"

"He's there, but he lacks the standing to call the shots."

"Then I really don't know, Lord Centurion."

"Don't know? Then there's no need for you to be Wind General anymore. From now on, I'll do nothing else but lead the Embroidered Uniform Guard to kill your Card System people every day. However many commoners died in the Qixia Group Plaza today, that's how many lives you'll pay in restitution!"

"Old Master, please calm your anger, please calm down."

Jin Shenghuo, who had barely been perched on the edge of his seat, shot up with a scrape, scurrying to the old man's side, his face on the verge of tears.

"Old Master, you know we're just small fry who can't even reach the 'Golden Tower.' The title 'Eight Generals of the Thousand Gates' sounds grand, but that's only because you don't hold it against us; otherwise we'd have packed up and left long ago."

"This time Honghu's people stirred up trouble, General Tuo and I truly heard not a whisper of it."

The old man's tiger eyes narrowed slightly, rubbing his temples.

"Fine. Since you don't know, I won't press you. That's it for this life. Next life, remember not to be reborn human."

"Old Master!"

Jin Shenghuo collapsed like a fat pig stabbed in the buttocks, his bulky frame wailing as it crumpled.

"The Right General! You can ask the Right General. The Sparrow System was his call; he might have some intel."

A frigid gaze swept over him; Jin Shenghuo felt like he'd fallen into an ice cave, trembling uncontrollably.

"At a time like this, you still want to play 'borrowing a knife to kill a man' with me?"

"This little one wouldn't dare. Though I'm no good man, before the greater righteousness I can still distinguish primary from secondary."

Jin Shenghuo's voice trembled: "Even if the Right General didn't participate, he absolutely knows some inside details!"

"Grandpa, it hurts, my head hurts so much."

The boy cried out before he even opened his eyes.

But after howling for a long while, he still didn't hear that familiar, gentle voice.

Nor did he feel that dry yet warm hand patting his head.

The boy rubbed his face, wiping snot and tears into black streaks across his cheeks, only then opening his eyes.

A chaotic, clamorous world leaped into the boy's vision.

Shattered command flags, filthy long banners, a collapsed ritual altar, blood-stained meditation cushions.

And the severed limbs and minced flesh strewn everywhere, plus the fresh blood flowing horizontally everywhere that even the rain couldn't wash clean.

"Grandpa. Grandpa, where are you?"

The boy curled up on the cushion, looking around helplessly.

Alas, at this moment, aside from the cold wind and rain, no one answered his mournful call.

His only companion was the wooden flying sword tucked at his waist.

"Mmph."

A muffled groan came from beside him; the boy shuddered, hurriedly burying his head in the cushion.

Long afterward, a dirty little face slowly lifted from between his knees, peeking secretly toward the source of the sound.

It was Daoist Friend Uncle!

The boy’s head snapped up, excited breaths blowing a stream of snot that hung from his lip.

Even now, with blood streaming from Zou Sijiu’s mouth and nose, he looked terrifying beyond measure.

Yet in the boy’s eyes, he was that familiar, that dear. He stuck his bottom up, hopped off the meditation cushion, and ran quickly to stand before Zou Sijiu.

"Daoist Friend Uncle, did you see my Grandpa?" The boy called out timidly, but Zou Sijiu gave no reaction.

"Daoist Friend Uncle, what’s wrong with you? Why are you bleeding so much? Is it because you ate too much candy? Grandpa can’t eat too much candy, he’ll get internal heat and nosebleeds."

The boy bunched up his filthy hem, tiptoed, and wiped at Zou Sijiu’s face.

The more he wiped, the more there was; the blood grew thicker and darker.

But as the cloth corner brushed past his nose, the boy suddenly saw Zou Sijiu’s tightly shut eyelids seem to tremble a few times.

"Daoist Friend Uncle, are you awake? You really were faking sleep! Don’t sleep anymore, can you take me to find my Grandpa? I can’t find him."

Perhaps it was innate boldness, or longing for his grandfather, or perhaps an invisible voice guiding him in the dark.

The boy actually reached out both hands to cup Zou Sijiu’s head, shaking it back and forth.

*Crack-crack-hiss.*

The wire bundles inserted at the back of Zou Sijiu’s skull suddenly erupted in a few sparks.

The next moment, Zou Sijiu’s tightly closed eyes snapped open, the piercing light shooting out making the boy jump; he cried out in alarm and fell back into the rainwater.

"Ruining my Dharma Assembly, stealing my Grotto-Heaven. Zou Sijiu, I, Wang Wenqin, will never rest until one of us is dead!"

At that same moment, a furious voice suddenly rang out from afar.

And it grew clear and grating at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Are you fucking stupid? I’m in the Grotto-Heaven too, how did I ruin your Dharma Assembly?"

*Whoosh!*

The ear-piercing sound of tearing air made Zou Sijiu’s scalp tingle; he turned his head in horror.

He saw a white thread piercing the rain, condensing into beads, stabbing straight toward him.

"Besides you, who else could it be?!"

A tall, straight figure stood upon the plaza, clad in a bright yellow silk Daoist robe, hair tied in a Daoist topknot, long beard on his chin, bearing the air of an immortal, yet eyes fierce as a wolf.

It was precisely the Divine Clouds Daoist, Wang Wenqin, who had been squeezed out of the Grotto-Heaven.

"Fuck, how did a moron like you ascend to Dao Stage Seven?"

Zou Sijiu cursed loudly, scooped up the boy who was still bawling his eyes out, buried his head, and ran like mad.

Too bad this was reality, not a Grotto-Heaven.

Without the aid of 'Authority,' how could he possibly outrun that flying sword.

Sword cries rang out incessantly, stabbing a phantom pain into Zou Sijiu’s back.

Just as he was rapidly thinking of how to save the boy, suddenly, a gale blew past his side.

In a trance, Zou Sijiu felt as if someone had patted his shoulder.

He instinctively looked back, only to see a figure leap up, tight-fitting clothes billowing and fluttering, like a kestrel striking the void.

That white flying sword seemed enraged; the tail flame at the end of its hilt grew even more blinding as it surged forward.

Sword like a python, falcon probing with claws.

*Clang!* A sonorous thunderclap exploded in the air.

In that instant, all things fell silent; wind and rain held their breath.

The aggressor’s face revealed shock; the fleer’s fear deepened.

A moment later, cries of alarm mixed with the wind and rain rushed skyward, as if venting all the terror accumulated in their hearts just moments before.

The black-clad martial artist fell from the heavens like a heavy sword; where his feet landed, the bluestones cracked in a dense web.

In his hand, he gripped a 'white python' still struggling madly.

*Crack!*

The 'white python' was dismembered, the flying sword snapped.

The 'falcon claw' had flesh torn back, revealing glimpses of stark white bone.

Zou Sijiu, who had stopped at some unknown time, stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly spat out a mouthful of bloody, turbid breath, grinning wide.

"Not gonna lie, that was fucking cool."