Chapter 86: Outsmarting Sword Lake

Chapter 86: Outsmarting the Sword Lake

Zhao Changhe’s “concealing no traces” was deliberate.

When he made the pact with Han Wubing, everyone in the ruined temple was dead; besides Yangyang, no one else knew of it. Han Wubing had no reason to go out of his way to tell people he was waiting for Zhao Changhe here. That meant, originally, outsiders had no idea where he was headed after leaving the Cui family—they shouldn’t even have known when he left the Cuis.

So why, shortly after he left the Cuis, did a crowd of people know he was heading to the Ancient Sword Lake? Assassins came along the way, the Demon Suppression Division showed up, and they even knew what he was up to, handing him Han Wubing’s dossier with thoughtful care.

There was only one possibility: Yangyang, after all, had little wariness toward her family and had inadvertently mentioned where Brother Zhao was going, which was then quietly leaked.

After all, Cui Wenjue had fallen, and his influence was vast. Secret revenge wasn’t surprising. If they couldn’t retaliate against the Cuis, why not take it out on this expelled bandit?

Perhaps, besides the Blood God Sect, there were also people raised by Cui Wenjue’s faction on the outside—like that tripwire, which didn’t seem like something a Jianghu wanderer would use.

The cause must have been just that.

Since the enemies knew, the Demon Suppression Division also knew. With the Great Xia Longque strapped to his back, others might not recognize what that absurd blade was, but how could Chief Tang not know? In that moment, countless dramas played out in his mind.

From Chief Tang’s perspective, you could simply not go to the Ancient Sword Lake, and they’d lose track of you—nothing would happen. Why force it?

A man’s promise: even if knives rain from the sky, he must go. What does a woman know!

What? Not concealing traces? Might invite enemies too strong to resist?

That was for show!

Zhao Changhe rode boldly along the official road halfway, seeing that his pursuers had been shaken off by the Snow-Treading Dark Stallion until they were out of sight. Suddenly, he yanked the reins and veered straight into the wilderness.

Half a day later, the sun slanted westward, and ahead, in the woods beside the official road.

Blood God Sect Leader Xue Canghai’s face darkened: “You said he wasn’t hiding his tracks, heading straight along the official road?”

“Y-yes, that’s what he said.”

“I’ve been waiting here for a full three hours, and now it’s almost dark. Where is he?”

“D-don’t know, maybe he’s napping somewhere in the roadside woods?”

With a sharp crack, Xue Canghai angrily spun his subordinate like a top: “Fools, he tricked you! Wasting my time!”

Behind him stood a familiar face… Instructor Sun leaned against a tree trunk, arms crossed, looking up at the birds, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Old Sun,” the Blood God Sect’s Transmission Elder whispered, “based on your understanding of him, where would he be now?”

Instructor Sun, who was not under the same chain of command as the sect’s administrative system, was a direct subordinate of the Transmission Elder. When his superior spoke, he dropped his old-timer demeanor, stood at attention, and laughed: “How would I know? That little brat started as a very polite young man. This bandit air I taught him myself—I’d tell him to speak louder, and that’s how he became the rogue the world knows. Who knows what kind of sly bastard he really is?”

“Tsk.” The Transmission Elder said in a pained low voice, “This matter… many in the sect blame you…”

“Blame me for what?” Instructor Sun’s voice rose. “I was just fulfilling my sect duties, teaching widely. The bandit’s blade skills I taught are good—that’s my high skill! I should be praised! Preaching doctrine, establishing faith—that’s not my damn job. I can barely read a few characters, so what’s it got to do with me? I haven’t blamed them for failing to preach properly, for not holding onto the good seedling I taught, and they have the nerve to blame me?”

Xue Canghai heard it all, turned to glance, and felt in his heart that Instructor Sun really couldn’t be blamed. In theory, the stronger Zhao Changhe became, the more it proved Instructor Sun’s duties were excellently fulfilled—he deserved praise. But this situation… who could praise it? Yet you couldn’t say, “You did your job too well and brought a big trouble to the sect; from now on, teach poorly.”

What a damn headache.

“And that Fang Buping! Huh? Didn’t I report him? Didn’t I say that narrow-minded, selfish fool was ruining the seedling? Huh? Didn’t I recommend sending Zhao Changhe to the headquarters? Huh? If they’d followed my advice, none of this mess would exist! Now they turn around and blame me? Go to hell!” Instructor Sun grew louder.

“Enough.” The Transmission Elder glanced sidelong at Xue Canghai’s increasingly dark face, thinking to himself that if you keep talking, the one at fault might become the sect leader himself. After all, the leader wouldn’t dismiss a capable branch master just because you filed a complaint…

He could only lower his voice: “That said, in the end, your disciple became a traitor, so we still bear some responsibility. Now, no one knows his methods better than you. If you can personally capture him this time, you’ll have merit, not fault.”

Instructor Sun snorted and said nothing.

In his heart, he didn’t think Zhao Changhe could beat him. The lime on Fang Buping’s face—the sect had inspected it later and saw it—proved Zhao Changhe wasn’t truly invincible. He knew his student’s ways; it shouldn’t be too big a problem. But still… Instructor Sun really didn’t want to do this job.

No matter what, this was indeed his proud disciple, taught hand by hand, with every movement calibrated wrist to wrist—this relationship was no ordinary thing. The more Zhao Changhe made a name in the Jianghu, the more face Instructor Sun had. The sect brothers might have opinions, but many also harbored a bit of envy; you could hear it in their tone.

What does a man live for? For the sect’s stipend?

“Enough.” Xue Canghai said flatly, “Sun Hengchuan bears no blame in this matter. Sect brothers must not hold it against him. But as Protector Ding said, when it comes to capturing this traitor, Hengchuan should still bear more responsibility. Now that this man has played tricks, no one knows where he’s gone, and he might not even go to the Ancient Sword Lake. Any thoughts? Hengchuan, you know him best. Speak.”

Sun Hengchuan felt that Zhao Changhe would definitely go to the Ancient Sword Lake, but when the words reached his lips, he said: “On this road, besides us, there are other factions after him. He should be aware now… If it were me in this situation, I’d really not go. A duel agreement isn’t such a big deal—why risk your neck for it? Of course, that’s me. I’m not sure about him, so don’t make me take the blame again.”

Everyone chuckled. The petty cunning of a bandit—shifting blame faster than anything. But after being fooled like this by Zhao Changhe, most really thought he was just feinting and wouldn’t go anymore. Old Sun’s reasoning made a lot of sense.

Xue Canghai mused, “Now many high-ranking members of the Four Symbols Sect are at the Ancient Sword Lake. It’s not appropriate for me to join the fun.”

In truth, he just didn’t want to show up and be a dog, ordered around.

He continued, “But we still need people at the Ancient Sword Lake, in case Zhao Changhe really goes. This task goes to Protector Ding and Hengchuan. Take a few men and station in Sword Lake City.”

The Transmission Elder and Instructor Sun both cupped their fists: “As you command.”

“The rest of you scatter and search for news of him. That’s all. I have other matters.” Xue Canghai finished, vanished in a flicker, leaving the dispirited Blood God Sect members staring at each other.

At different official roads and intersections, others also waited in vain for a whole day, then scattered to search everywhere.

Zhao Changhe headed east, crossing wilderness and fields, bypassing two cities without entering. By the time darkness fell.

Under the moonlight, the Snow-Treading Dark Stallion neighed to the sky, then suddenly turned south, galloping toward the Sword Lake.

“Whoa!” After galloping for who knew how long, the Longque on his back trembled lightly—the killing intent had returned.

As long as some still believed he would go to the Ancient Sword Lake, he couldn’t shake off all enemies. If they were willing to guard every pass, they would eventually catch him.

But those foolish enough to wait like that would never be at Xue Canghai’s level. This was the true whetting of the blade, not a death march.

The Great Xia Longque was newly acquired—its length, weight, thickness, and thinness were still unfamiliar. Without various trials, how could it become an extension of his arm?

Zhao Changhe acted as if the Longque hadn’t warned him, riding on without pause.

A sword aura suddenly struck from the right.

Zhao Changhe’s body dropped low, hiding in the stirrups. The assassin swept past his horse.

A broad blade rose silently.

The Snow-Treading Dark Stallion galloped far under the moonlight before, behind it, a “thump” sounded—two halves of a corpse fell.

Who said such a broad blade could only sweep wildly?

By the time he reached the Sword Lake, may the horse be like his legs, and the blade like his arm.