Chapter Seventy-Four: What the Blue Lotus Did

The name "Bright Moon" holds a certain mystical charm; even the corpse lying before them does not seem to break that aura. Suspended in the night sky, though not particularly luminous, its pure, pristine presence imbues the scene with boundless poetry. In less than two days, Han Tanyi had encountered two people with skin as lustrous as jade—his notion of jade referring only to the color of their flesh. One was Shao Changchun, the master of the Donghua Gate, and the other was the Bright Moon of the East lying before him. Though dead for some hours and the flush of blood had faded, leaving all else drained of vitality, that pallor seemed only to enhance the whiteness of his skin. He lay quietly, dressed in white, strikingly conspicuous. Not far from him, a man and a woman lay side by side; judging by their posture, they must have been disciples of Cold Mountain Valley, likely companions who met misfortune together. Yet Han Tanyi’s gaze lingered only briefly on them, soon drawn back to the Bright Moon of the East.

Nothing else remained but the appearance itself. No matter how handsome or elegant a person, it is only in life that one possesses true vitality. To lie here in such stillness could only evoke unbidden sorrow. Just as Daotian Feng was now, his emotions already sorrowful and hard to control, standing before the Bright Moon of the East only made his grief impossible to hide, and his tears flowed unchecked. Sorrow is contagious; even a carefree soul like Han Tanyi was not immune. Witnessing the old man's pain, he too felt his heart ache.

The guards of Bright Moon Manor did not hinder their actions. No matter how dull they were, they knew the identity of these visitors. To let them be was only proper. After all, it was merely a corpse—however remarkable he had been in life, now he was but a symbol for those familiar to mourn. To strangers, he would hardly warrant a glance. Thinking on it, one ought to treat oneself kindly while alive—for such is the only recompense for traversing this world.

The weather was fair and clear, a good day for most, and Qiu Wan’er was no exception. Driven by curiosity, she moved swiftly—yet even so, she proceeded cautiously, not wishing her clandestine descent from the mountain to be discovered before the martial gathering was over. If it was merely a scolding, it would be nothing, but if the eccentric temperament of Daotian Feng flared up, he could well send her back to Qilian, which would be a waste. The abrupt departure of the old man and Han Tanyi seemed utterly perplexing to her, and curiosity surged, difficult to suppress, prompting her to follow at once.

She dared not approach the main hall too closely. Even if the guards missed her, the old man's skill was such that, upon nearing, he would instantly sense her presence. So she chose the roof of a side chamber, where the distance and angle were just right; through a slight gap, she could observe everything in the main hall. The main hall itself was the pride of Bright Moon Manor, built higher than ordinary homes—seven or eight meters above ground, and its design was bare and upright, offering no foothold. Yet for Qiu Wan’er, this posed no problem. Her eyes quickly found a weak spot in the guard’s watch, and with a powerful leap, she landed on the eaves like a hawk soaring skyward.

She pried open a tile and peered through the narrow gap. The distance and slanted angle meant she could not see as clearly as she would from inside, and Han Tanyi seemed almost deliberately positioned to block the upper half of the Bright Moon of the East, so she could not see him in full. Yet beneath the white cloth, she knew it was a corpse. Realizing this, Qiu Wan’er regretted coming—impulsive and fearless, she feared little, but scenes like this unnerved her. Her body trembled slightly, but after a moment of adjustment, she suppressed her fear and dared not look further. She tilted her head back, letting the sunlight warm her, which eased her anxiety. Her posture, supporting herself with limbs splayed, was much like a cat.

“Master, could this really be the work of the Blue Lotus Sect?” Han Tanyi’s voice, unaffected by the girl's presence, came from the main hall. To speak honestly, the death of the Bright Moon of the East stirred some emotion in the youth, but it had little direct bearing on him, so he was much calmer than Daotian Feng. Still, he needed answers, for both Qilian and Blue Lotus Sect, and it was vital. Truthfully, Han Tanyi did not want to believe Blue Lotus Sect—especially Shui Linglong—could be responsible. She was not that kind of person, he told himself, but such thoughts were tinged with wishful denial. He needed an answer, and only the old man before him could provide it.

However sorrowful, Daotian Feng was not muddled; he could distinguish priorities. His purpose in coming to Yingyang was to investigate whether Blue Lotus Sect truly existed as Shen Wansan claimed. This scene was the best evidence. He composed himself and examined the body from head to toe, scrutinizing every corner beneath the white cloth—thoroughly, beyond what most could achieve. There were few wounds, only a fine sword cut on the chest, clearly fatal, piercing the heart—a killing blow. Whoever struck this, either caught the Bright Moon of the East totally off guard, or possessed martial skills far superior to his. There could be no other explanation.

“I can’t be sure, but Blue Lotus Sect is most likely responsible,” Daotian Feng said after a brief pause, as if reaching a conclusion. Though not absolute, Han Tanyi understood that when the old man spoke thus, he was eighty percent certain. He could reason why: the Bright Moon of the East was no ordinary man, his skills unrivaled. Even close acquaintances, to ambush and kill him in one blow, only Daotian Feng or Shen Wansan could pull it off—and both had no motive, and according to the time of death, it was yesterday at dusk, when they were both in the main hall, making it impossible. So, the only explanation was an attacker with immense martial prowess, so great as to leave no chance to react. Formerly, Han Tanyi would have doubted such power existed, but after the Blue Lotus incident, he had witnessed the abilities of the Shui family women. Perhaps Shui Linglong was not capable, but the mysterious Shui Lianhua might be; and given her vengeful nature, with the martial gathering targeting Blue Lotus Sect, old and new grudges could have driven her to act.

These thoughts remained unspoken. Daotian Feng, unaware of his disciple’s inner turmoil, kept his eyes fixed on the wound, searching for clues to confirm his theory. Suddenly, a glint flashed in his gaze, as if his conviction had strengthened. “Look at the wound—swift and precise. Even with profound spiritual power, it wouldn’t produce such an effect unless aided by a legendary weapon. Among all martial arms, the fastest is the Kunwu Sword, held by the Blue Lotus Sect. In days past, your master’s wife, then the Donghua Gate master, died by that sword. The wound matches this scene exactly—even its shape is identical.”

So, some truths cannot be changed. Han Tanyi wished to defend Shui Linglong, yet could find no grounds to convince himself. Sometimes, despite one’s reluctance to believe, one must accept reality—a torment indeed. His mind was now clouded, unsure how to respond. If Qilian and Blue Lotus Sect were to become mortal enemies, how could he face that gentle, incomparable countenance? Perhaps this was the agony he could never escape in days to come.