The Rise of Phoenixes-Chapter 150
The soft sword’s death by a thousand cuts was a more terrifying torture than a sudden death and finally the two assassins dropped their swords and fell to their knees, begging: “Don’t kill me — don’t kill me...”
“Cha.”
The extraordinary long sword slice across their sinful throats, splashing their blood into the rain.
“I was waiting for those words.”
Feng Zhiwei replied calmly, sheathing her sword around her waist.
They passed the bodies and ate some of the roast meat, resting. Ning Yi kept time, and after a while he said: “They should have reached the temple by now.”
“Do you think they will head down the mountain or come back?” Feng Zhiwei asked.
“They can’t stay here for much longer. The post house must have already been discovered, and my three thousand Honor Guard is still there. Even if they put on a show, Shen Xuru still needs to explain the situation to the Imperial Court.” Ning Yi replied. “Those two were preparing to leave as well, so they will leave the mountain.”
“Then we should go. They’ll leave the temple safe; someone will come back for the food.” Feng Zhiwei said, helping Ning Yi to his feet.
Rain poured outside as Feng Zhiwei rustled up a straw rain cape for Ning Yi, trembling heroically as she headed outside with no protection of her own; ignoring her foolishness, Ning Yi unceremoniously dragged Feng Zhiwei under the broad cape, not allowing her to refuse. Feng Zhiwei hesitated a moment, but then she reasoned that the situation was dangerous and that if she fell sick, Ning Yi would be blind and helpless, so she allowed Ning Yi to manhandle her.
The two huddled underneath the rain cape like conjoined twins as they walked out into the rain. They were squeezed together so tightly that their limbs kept bumping together; the more they tried to avoid each other, the more their uncovered skin touched. Both of them were ill at ease, with Ning Yi staring emptily into the distance while Feng Zhiwei looked down at her feet, counting her steps.
The rain splashed all around them, muddying the ground. Their steps squished into the slush, barely audible in the quiet world inside the straw rain cape. They could fell the other’s breath and Qi, each mingling with each as they breathed in the quiet smell of straw; someone’s heart pounded, or perhaps it was both their hearts.
Whenever they turned to glance at the other’s face, they felt as if that outline was the most beautiful part of the rainy night, and the more they glanced the more their feet stumbled...
Although the arrangement was rather inconvenient, the two still made speedy progress; it seemed like only a blink of an eye had passed when the ancient temple’s overhanging eaves came into view.
They stopped a distance away, carefully listening to the night; all they heard was the struggling cry of crickets in the autumn rain. After a lengthy wait, they were confident that the assassins had left after finding the temple empty.
Feng Zhiwei let out a relieved sigh and pushed her way into the ancient temple. She turned to untie the straw cape as she spoke: “They’ve searched here; they must have thought we left the mountain. We’ve finally ...”
Before she could finish speaking, an evil laughter filled the air!
As soon as the laughter started Feng Zhiwei reached out to grab Ning Yi, but Ning Yi moved faster and pulled her behind him.
They both moved as fast as they could, trapped and hindered by the rain cape, almost tripping. Feng Zhiwei pulled out her long sword and slashed away the cape; straw flew and her eyes were dazzled by gleaming light.
Twelve bright swords pressed Feng Zhiwei and Ning Yi down, each of them centimeters away from puncturing their bodies.
Feng Zhiwei looked up and smiled: “Nice sword.”?With her hidden hand, she etched words into Ning Yi’s palm: “Twelve men; all swords; Octagonal Formation; Zhen Three, Li Two, Dui Two, Kan One, Sun Two, Kun Two.” (震三,离二,兑二,坎一,巽二,坤二directions & number of people)
Ning Yi frowned and wrote back: “Don’t be reckless. They might not be together.”
Feng Zhiwei agreed; if they were with the assassins they would have already struck, and the enemies did not use swords.
“What do you all mean by this?” She cocked her brows as she spoke coldly: “We brothers lost our way while rising the mountain and came to this temple to take shelter from the rain. Even if we disturbed you all, do you really need to draw your swords?”
She had already revealed her sword so she could not pretend to be a panicked commoner, so she imitated the Jianghu style, guessing at the group’s identity.
The twelve wore grey cotton robes with green edges, their eyes tough and their temples prominent; from their temperament and demeanor, they seemed like members of a Jianghu Sect. The group showed surprise at her words, and the man in the lead called back in a cold, harsh voice: “Your cape is like the villager’s. If you met them and borrowed their cape, why come here instead of resting in their home?”
The question was incisive and Feng Zhiwei’s mind raced as she tried to come up with a reason; Ning Yi smiled beside her and replied: “The couple we met only had one room, but it smelled terrible and we could not stand it so we came searching for different shelter.”
Although Feng Zhiwei and Ning Yi wore common cotton clothes, their bearing was casually noble and fit with the excuse; as the leader hesitated, Feng Zhiwei pushed aside their swords and smiled: “We are all fellow martial artists; meeting today is fate. Why bare our blades?”
A flicker of disdain passed over the leader’s face; these two young masters only learned some shallow Kungfu from their families and dared call themselves martial artists?
He frowned as he examined Ning Yi and Feng Zhiwei. The two were covered in mud and blood that they had intentionally not cleaned but their faces were still recognizable; the leader’s gaze fell on Ning Yi’s face and his eyes gleamed; he spoke: “This brother has spoken correctly; we have been uncourteous. May I ask the brother’s surnames? How did you come to be here?”
Would normal people make small talk while holding someone at sword point? Feng Zhiwei silently complained as she slapped a kind smile on her face and replied: “We are from Lingnan Province and are heading to Ji Yang to visit a friend. Our surname is Tian. We heard Mount Ji Yang is beautiful and came to visit but slipped and fell off a cliff. We’ve separated from our servants and are now trying to find out way down the mountain as quickly as possible.”
She sighed and touched Ning Yi’s hand: “You all must have noticed, but my brother... his eyes are not very good; he was born with an illness in his eyes, and we came to Ji Yang to take time away from our troubles.”
The suspicion on the leader’s face finally faded a touch.
Feng Zhiwei smiled calmly, but her fingers gripped her sword’s handle; the gleaming swords were still pointed right at Ning Yi and if any of them moved forward even a little, not even an immortal saint could save his life.
She had intentionally brought up Ning Yi’s eyes — only she knew that Ning Yi had gone blind; no one searching for him would be looking for a blind man, and this discrepancy should put them off his trail.
