A soft gasp echoed from the mountain wall, followed by a black shadow falling down. Ye’an leaped up, caught the falling figure of Chuxia, and gently set her down, examining her expression by the firelight. Chuxia’s face was deathly pale, her lips devoid of color, murmuring, “Master Tufeng… killed in the same way?” Ye’an’s eyes were heavy with concern, but his tone was calm and soothing, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Master Kongfeng asked, “Why does this young lady say ‘the same way’?” Ye’an recounted the story of Madame Wangyun and the murder in Green Willow Alley. After he finished, Chuxia trembled, “The killer must have followed us, seeking Master Tufeng. Perhaps, on our journey here… he was always behind us.” “You’re talking nonsense!” The young monk interjected, “You are the murderer! My fellow monks and I saw your figure and smelled this scent!” Master Kongfeng waved his hand slightly, “Have you met Master Tufeng?” Ye’an responded candidly, “Yes.” “Master Tufeng, in the past two decades, has been practicing the esoteric teachings of Indian Buddhism in the dense forest behind Shaoshi Mountain. May I ask why Young Master Jun sought him out?” “My late father was friends with Master Tufeng. Recently, I heard of some past events and came specifically to inquire. Unfortunately, before Master Tufeng could tell me anything, he was harmed by an evildoer.” “As for who the murderer is, it might be related to these past events.” Ye’an paused, “This young master accusing the girl with me of being the murderer must be a misunderstanding. Master Tufeng was highly skilled in martial arts; how could a girl who doesn’t know martial arts kill him?” Master Kongfeng looked at Chuxia several times. “Abbot, don’t listen to them!” the young monk interjected, “Who said the murderer must know martial arts?” Ye’an’s eyes brightened, “How so?” “When we arrived, Master Tufeng had one last breath left. He… he gestured for us not to pursue further—if he hadn’t willingly allowed himself to be killed, how could he have been so calm?” After a long silence, Master Kongfeng sighed, “Young Master Jun, we are old friends. Today’s matter is not that I distrust you, but currently, it’s truly complex and difficult to resolve. Why don’t you come up the mountain with me, and we’ll seek a solution. As for this young lady, please come along as well.” Chuxia was arranged to stay in a small courtyard outside the temple to the east. Not long after, a monk came to fetch Ye’an. Chuxia, though she didn’t speak, looked timidly at Ye’an’s retreating figure. Ye’an, already at the door, seemed to sense something and turned back, whispering, “This is the heart of Shaolin Temple, it’s very safe here. You haven’t slept all night; go rest in the side room, I’ll be back soon.” Chuxia nodded, not wanting to worry him, “Then go, be careful.” As the sun rose, the morning mist began to dissipate. Footsteps gradually faded, yet Chuxia couldn’t sleep. She sat on a stone bench in the courtyard, idly drawing on the ground with a stick. Suddenly, something dropped at her feet. Chuxia picked up the stone wrapped in oil paper. On the paper were four words: ‘Be cautious from start to finish.’ Who threw it? Was it for her? What did it mean? Chuxia stood up, looked around, and opened the courtyard gate, but there was no one in sight—only several warrior monks with stern expressions. Ye’an was not there, so Chuxia sat back on the bench, repeatedly reading the note. Time passed, and the shadow of the sun moved; suddenly, she felt weightless as someone lifted her from behind. She was about to struggle when she heard Ye’an’s voice, “How did you fall asleep on the stone bench? Aren’t you afraid of catching a cold?” Ye’an carried her back to the room and gently placed her on the bed, “Sleep well, we’ll go down the mountain tonight.” Chuxia sat up, hugging her knees, “Will they let us go?” Ye’an smiled faintly, “I promised the abbot that within two months, I would find the murderer and bring him back to Shaolin.” “What if… we can’t catch him?” Ye’an didn’t answer, but Chuxia felt a pang in her heart; someone of his stature in the martial world would honor his word at the cost of his reputation. Chuxia couldn’t help but reach out, gently touching his forehead and eyes, whispering, “Why do you have to do this? We didn’t kill him.” “Though we didn’t kill him, it’s because of us that he died.” Ye’an sighed, his eyes showing fatigue as he took her hand, pressing it to his cheek, “Besides, two months is more than enough.” “Oh, by the way, this was thrown into the courtyard after you left.” Chuxia unfolded the note. Ye’an read it, not surprised, only pondering, “These four words, it’s unknown if they’re from friend or foe.” Outside the window, bamboo shadows swayed gently, Ye’an’s profile was handsome and calm, his gaze as always gentle and tranquil. Chuxia suddenly felt at ease, her eyes drooping as she whispered, “Aren’t you tired?” Ye’an touched her hair, “You sleep, I’ll be right here.” The room was simple, with just a table and a bed. Chuxia moved over to make space, gathering her courage, “You should rest too.” Ye’an paused, then the bed dipped slightly as he lay down. Chuxia closed her eyes, her face burning red, thankful she was facing away. She tried to curl up, but then heard Ye’an’s voice, low and slightly enticing, almost like a plea, “Little girl, can I hold you?” Before she could answer, his hand was already around her waist, not tight but firm, his breath warm on her hair.
Every muscle in her body tensed up; even the slightest movement behind her made her overly sensitive. Chuxia suddenly regretted her suggestion. “Just stay like this, don’t move,” the young master whispered, closing his eyes to inhale the faint fragrance, feeling the warmth and softness of the girl in his arms, and all the distractions of the outside world seemed to dissipate in this moment.
Chapter Thirty: On their way down the mountain, they encountered no obstacles. When they reached the foot of Shaoshi Mountain, Chuxia expressed her regret, “I wonder what Master Tufeng originally wanted to tell you.” The young master glanced back at the vast mountains under the night sky and simply grunted in response.
“Young Master, I’ve been thinking about the events of these past days,” Chuxia said slowly. “The murder in Lvyu Alley, Scholar Su being chased, your sudden decision to come to Songshan, and then Master Tufeng’s murder—all these seem very coincidental, but the more I think about it, the more something feels off.” The young master rode at a leisurely pace, signaling her to continue. Chuxia gripped the reins tighter and went on, “What I mean is, our adversaries must have planted spies among us; otherwise, how would they know our movements?”
The young master smiled faintly, paused for a moment, then said, “Girl, why do you think these events are coincidental?” Chuxia pondered for a while and shook her head, “I don’t know.” Under the moonlight, she turned to look at him. The young master carried the Yuyang Sword on his back, looking every bit like a youthful swordsman from the martial world, his smile unrestrained and fearless, captivating hearts.
“You think they’re coincidental because each event leaves you guessing the true intentions of our opponents. Think further back, to the death of Lady Wangyun, the three gifts from the mysterious person, and then the emergence of Tian Gang. Girl, think carefully. It seems our unseen adversary has even calculated my move to destroy Tian Gang.” Chuxia shivered, murmuring, “Indeed.” The young master’s phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, a sharp light flashing through, “Lady Wangyun’s death might be due to her affair with someone from the mansion, leading to her being silenced. Your suggestion that there’s an insider among us makes sense. But what about everything that happened afterward? How do you explain that?”
