Chapter Forty-Six: The Black Lotus

The night was dark, the wind fierce. Within the Song family estate, in an elegant courtyard, the relentless cries and screams of a woman echoed. In Song Gong’s hand, a whip dangled, and he wielded an iron ruler, striking the woman with merciless force.

Every lash left her skin swollen and red. The reins around her neck treated her no better than livestock. Thankfully, she was clothed, sparing her from the worst carnage.

“Spare me… Young master, spare me… Help, help!” The woman’s wails grew weaker; she was thin and frail, likely a destitute refugee bought for a pittance. Song Gong, cursed with innate weakness, could only take pleasure in tormenting women at night.

Through a peephole, Su Yang saw everything with chilling clarity. The woman’s cries faded until, at last, a piercing scream broke the silence—and then, breathless, she died. Her flesh was mangled, bone gleaming white where Song Gong’s iron ruler had struck her again and again, beating her to death. Only as the ruler clattered to the floor did Su Yang see the two characters engraved upon it: Song Gong.

Every strike branded the woman’s skin with Song Gong’s name—a perverse signature.

“Bastard,” Su Yang muttered through clenched teeth, a flicker of murderous intent in his eyes. He turned to the maid beside him. “Do as I say when the time comes. Knock on the door exactly as instructed. If you make a single mistake, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

The cold gleam of the Black Serpent Dagger in his hand made the maid shiver uncontrollably; she nodded in trembling assent.

Once Su Yang let go, the terrified maid scurried to the door, knocking softly, “Young master, are you asleep?”

“What is it?” came the irritable reply.

“The master calls for you—urgent business.”

“I know.” Song Gong, face sour, tossed the bloodied ruler aside, changed out of his stained clothes, and opened the door. The first thing he saw was the knocking maid.

“Let’s go.” The maid gave a surreptitious sign. Song Gong’s pupils narrowed—but before he could react, a dagger flashed from behind the maid. Su Yang drove the Black Serpent Dagger clean through Song Gong’s arm, shattering bone, then buried it in his chest. Blood spurted onto the maid, drenching her as if in a nightmare. Song Gong collapsed, unable even to scream.

An eighth-rank warrior, caught off guard by a seventh-rank, was helpless as cattle before the butcher’s knife.

“Don’t… don’t kill me!” the maid pleaded, terror-stricken, black mole on her lip trembling as she shrank away. But Su Yang advanced and dispatched her swiftly.

He stepped into the room, rummaging through chests and cabinets, searching for the ten-year Snake Scent Fruit that Dongmen Qing had gifted Song Gong that day. Song Gong had not imagined Su Yang would dare turn on him.

The precious fruit was simply locked in a cabinet—a black wooden box, smooth and polished. Inside was a smaller box, seemingly of tough cowhide, tightly sealed. Within lay a black fruit the size of a longan, exuding a faint reptilian odor, its surface hard as a radish.

Though small, the ten-year Snake Scent Fruit carried potent medicinal effects. Even a seventh-rank warrior would benefit, allowing Su Yang to make great strides on his path—saving him the toil of several dangerous tasks.

Securing the fruit, he looted the room for silver and valuables, piling everything by the door to collect after the coming massacre.

The Song family had two eighth-rank warriors: Song Gong and another, a loyal servant who had long served the Wang household and whose daughter had married Dongmen Qing. With Song Gong also of eighth rank, this elder servant had become the true master of the house.

The old man was cunning and his strength somewhat diminished, but his quarters were filled with traps and alarms. Su Yang triggered one by accident and was forced to storm in, killing the old man before he could react. Luckily, Su Yang, now a level higher, dispatched him with ease and speed, drawing little attention within the estate—a relief.

Hearing voices from inside, Su Yang found only two household servants and quickly slew them, dragging their bodies into the courtyard before ransacking the old warrior’s quarters. His luck held; he found an ancient herb—another specimen of White-flesh Titan’s Meat.

Though not especially valuable to higher-ranked warriors, it was of great use to those of the lower grades.

With both eighth-rank warriors dead, the remaining ninth-rank and commoners were easy prey. Even so, eliminating the Song family was more exhausting than wiping out others, for their household was vast.

Su Yang’s spirits lifted when, among the maids, he detected one with a Grade D root and another with Grade C talent. He handed each a knife and made them slay two others before nodding in satisfaction. “Now that you’ve killed, you’re guilty beyond pardon. But if you will follow me and become my maids, I will protect you.”

“We are willing to follow, my lord,” the two maids replied, trembling but resolute as they knelt.

With the Song family destroyed, Su Yang slung a bag of silver over his shoulder, tucked the ten-year Snake Scent Fruit and ancient herb into his breast, and set off for the Wang family with his two new maids in tow.

He had only managed a rough sweep of the Song household, gathering eight or nine thousand taels of silver—eight or nine hundred catties in weight. With his leather sack holding at most five hundred catties, he could carry away only five thousand taels at a time.

Weighted down with silver, he moved slowly, resting often, and after half an hour returned to his own courtyard and stored the loot.

The two maids, now without legal status, would need new identities registered at the magistrate’s office—complete with bribes, a troublesome process. Su Yang decided to simply keep them at home for now.

If the rebels triumphed, adding them to the census would be simple; if the rebellion failed, he would by then be strong enough to alter the records himself.

He named the Grade C root girl Qiu’er (Autumn Second) and the Grade D one Dongwu (Winter Fifth). The Song family’s silver was not yet exhausted, nor were the corpses disposed of, so he would have to return.

…

Outside the Su family estate, a woman in black slipped through the night. Tall and lithe, her icy eyes gleamed beneath the moon, her shapely figure accentuated by a tight-fitting outfit.

She was one of the rebels who had infiltrated the city; with food stores dwindling, they had set their sights on the Su family. Four hundred loads of grain would buy enough time for King Qing to send his signal and break the city from within.

Her name was Black Lotus, an ordinary follower under King Qing, with seventh-rank strength.

For a seventh-rank warrior, sneaking into a mansion was child’s play. Yet, strangely, the estate was deserted; she passed through several courtyards without meeting a soul.

“You’ve crossed the line,” a spectral voice whispered behind her. A slender hand struck with effortless grace.

Crack!

A sharp, shattering sound—like precious jade breaking—echoed as Black Lotus was flung backward, her protective Ice Soul Armor crumbling to dust. She crashed to the ground, her organs shattered, blood gushing from her mouth. Without the armor, she would have been torn to pieces by that single blow.

“Hm?” the shadow in the darkness murmured in surprise at her treasure’s power, then faded into the night as footsteps sounded in the alley.

Su Yang found the collapsed figure on the ground. “How odd—why is there someone lying here?”

As he approached, Black Lotus struggled to rise, dagger in hand, and demanded weakly, “Who are you?”

“And who are you?” Su Yang replied, bewildered, his bag of silver in hand.

Black Lotus scanned the area, relieved to find her attacker gone. “I was being hunted—so I escaped here.”

“May I take shelter for a while?”

“Of course,” Su Yang nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No need.”

“Very well, then.”

She leaned against the wall, her exquisite figure and icy eyes captivating even in distress. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her seventh-rank strength dissipating.

After the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, she said, “My pursuers must be gone by now. Thank you, sir, for your kindness. I will not forget this favor.”

With that, clutching her wounded chest, she vaulted over the wall and disappeared into the darkness—her strength now no greater than ninth rank. She would need months to recover.

“Farewell, then,” Su Yang waved after her as she vanished.

…

Half an hour later, having trailed Black Lotus through alley and street, Su Yang returned quietly to his own hiding place once she deemed herself safe.

He knocked lightly. A warrior opened the door and, seeing Black Lotus’s condition, hurried her inside. The courtyard buzzed with activity; Su Yang, peering over the wall, saw many formidable figures gathered.

“Black Lotus, what happened?” a middle-aged scholar pushed his way in, worry etched across his face.

“There’s a master in the Wang household—one blow nearly killed me,” she replied, clutching her chest, her breath weak.

Even now, she shuddered to think that her Ice Soul Armor—King Qing’s own gift—had been shattered with a single strike. Who could wield such power? Perhaps King Qing himself.

If another warrior of King Qing’s caliber was in the city, there would be no need to storm Yanggu County.

This news must reach King Qing at once; a top-ranked warrior must be dispatched to investigate.

…

“But isn’t the Wang family’s only notable man a ninth-rank son-in-law?”

“I don’t know.” Black Lotus shook her head.

“If there truly was a master there, why would they dismiss their servants?”

“Could it have been an official?” someone wondered.

“Impossible. If it were, I’d never have escaped.” Black Lotus shook her head, her wounds and exhaustion making speech an effort.

“Enough—let’s get Black Lotus to her room to recover.”

The others gathered in the courtyard, unsure what to do.

“What now? The food won’t last much longer.”

“We’ll have to give up on the Wang family and look for another wealthy household tomorrow. We must solve this food crisis quickly.”

“I’d heard the Wang family matron was quite the beauty. I’d hoped to sample her delights once we took their house. What a disappointment.”

“How could there be a master in the Wang house? If so, why let Black Lotus escape?”

“I agree.”

“Why did Black Lotus go there in the first place?”

Their eyes darted with suspicion and malice. Gathered by King Qing’s rebellion, they had no trust between them; a trifle might spark betrayal.

At last, a middle-aged warrior made the decision, and the crowd dispersed. Most were ninth-rank, a few eighth. Only Black Lotus—now gravely injured—had held seventh rank, brought here to seize the Wang family’s grain and establish a base.

No one had imagined that their strongest would fall at the Wang household, and to an unknown assailant.

Su Yang recalled when the four Black Wolf Gang lieutenants had tried to infiltrate the Wang house—he himself had killed three, and the last had died mysteriously, drained of blood.

Since then, he had suspected something strange within the Wang family.

Now, hearing the rebels’ discussion, old memories stirred.

A seventh-rank warrior had fallen. What was that thing in the Wang house? Human? Demon? Or something else? Where did it hide?

One thing was certain: it meant the Wang family no harm—perhaps even protected them. It had killed the Black Wolf Gang’s ninth-rank leader, gravely wounded the rebel’s seventh-rank expert, and yet avoided being seen.

It must be of sixth rank. Fifth rank was unlikely; if so, any seventh-rank could be slain in a single blow.

Yet, fifth rank could not be entirely ruled out.

Thus, the mysterious guardian was likely of fifth or sixth rank.

Su Yang crept deeper into the courtyard, intent on extracting information from the gravely wounded woman. Since she had suffered at the hands of the Wang family’s mysterious guardian, she must know something.

If he could not learn the truth, it would eat at him like a bone stuck in his throat.

…

Boom! Boom! Boom!

From beyond the city walls came thunderous crashes and the sound of stone shattering. No doubt the rebels’ monstrous beast was attacking again. Every few days, this happened—yet breaking Yanggu County was no easy feat.

…

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