Chapter Sixty: Confronting Yu Canghai

“I heard that the young man the Songshan and Qingcheng Sects have been searching for has appeared at Shaolin Temple.”

“Shaolin Temple on Mount Song? That’ll really drive the Songshan Sect mad.”

“Exactly. I heard that when Zuo Lengchan, the leader of Songshan Sect, got wind of this, he immediately sent people to intercept him on the road. Yet, in the end, they didn’t even get a whiff of him.”

“Haha!”

The moment the man finished sharing this tidbit, the drinkers around him burst into laughter.

What they didn’t realize was that not far from them sat two young men dressed as wealthy gentlemen, who, upon hearing this, could only shake their heads.

These two were none other than Yang Wenhao and Dongfang Bubai, just recently departed from Shaolin Temple.

“It seems the Songshan Sect is rather infatuated with you,” Dongfang Bubai said with a chuckle. “But you’re like a mouse in the shadows—impossible to catch.”

“Mind your words,” Yang Wenhao shot Dongfang Bubai a glare. “Who knows who’s the mouse and who’s the cat here.”

Dongfang Bubai smiled, “True enough.”

As the two bantered, several figures strode hurriedly into the tavern.

“Waiter, bring us your finest wine and dishes, and be quick about it!”

Their imposing manner and utter disregard for others clearly marked them as members of the Songshan Sect.

The drinkers who had just been making jests about Songshan Sect quickly fell silent, all fearing trouble if overheard.

Casting a fleeting glance at the Songshan Sect disciples, Dongfang Bubai turned to Yang Wenhao. “Where do you plan to go next?”

“I want to track down Yu Canghai,” Yang Wenhao replied. He had long been fixated on Yu Canghai’s head—after all, as the leader of a sect, the reward would surely be considerable.

“I’ll go with you,” Dongfang Bubai said.

.............

Fuzhou. No one knew who had spread the word, but half the martial sects in the land had converged here, drawn by the prospect of seizing the Seventy-Two Paths of the Evil-Repelling Sword Art.

Naturally, Yu Canghai, who had long coveted the sword art, would also be here.

That was why Yang Wenhao hadn’t gone to Qingcheng Mountain to seek him out, but instead came to Fuzhou.

Yang Wenhao and Dongfang Bubai strolled through the streets, both dressed as young noblemen. Amid the bustling scenery, they appeared as old friends enjoying a leisurely outing.

“Fuzhou is quite lovely,” Dongfang Bubai remarked.

Yang Wenhao gave a faint smile. “It won’t be long before this place becomes a burial ground for martial artists.”

Upon hearing this, Dongfang Bubai only smiled in silence.

By day, Yang Wenhao and Dongfang Bubai roamed Fuzhou for leisure. When night fell, they ventured out again—but this time, with killing in mind.

“Do you know where Yu Canghai is?” Dongfang Bubai asked.

Yang Wenhao shook his head. “No.”

“Then how are you so certain you’ll run into him?” Dongfang Bubai pressed.

“I may not know where he is, but I know what he wants,” Yang Wenhao replied. It was he who had sent the notes to the various martial sects, luring them here to fight over the Evil-Repelling Sword Manual.

It had been just half a month since then. Yang Wenhao didn’t believe anyone could have found it so quickly.

“What does he want?” Dongfang Bubai asked.

“The Evil-Repelling Sword Manual,” Yang Wenhao said. “My master once told me a secret regarding it.”

“What secret?” Dongfang Bubai’s curiosity was piqued.

“My master said that the Sun and Moon Sect possesses a peerless martial art called the Sunflower Manual,” Yang Wenhao continued, watching Dongfang Bubai closely. Yet, her expression remained unchanged, betraying nothing. He went on, “And the Evil-Repelling Sword Art shares the same origin as the Sunflower Manual.”

“What!” Dongfang Bubai was stunned.

“Or rather, the Evil-Repelling Sword Art was separated from the Sunflower Manual,” Yang Wenhao said. “The so-called peerless skill of the Sun and Moon Sect is but a fragment.”

Dongfang Bubai pressed further, “Did your master ever tell you where the real Sunflower Manual is?”

Yang Wenhao shook his head with a touch of mock disappointment. “My master never disclosed that to me.”

Now Dongfang Bubai was truly curious about the identity of Yang Wenhao’s master. Yang Wenhao not only knew the arts of Wudang and Shaolin, but his swordsmanship was so formidable that even she felt a twinge of fear. One could only imagine how powerful his master must be.

But had she known that this “master” was merely a fabrication, invented by Yang Wenhao to gauge her reaction, she would surely be infuriated.

“Come, let’s find Yu Canghai.”

Both were martial artists of the highest caliber; scaling walls and rooftops was child’s play for them.

Soon, guided by the information he’d gathered earlier, Yang Wenhao arrived at an old residence in Xiangyang Alley.

Perched atop the roof, they observed the house, which, though long abandoned, was now ablaze with light and raucous with laughter.

Moments later, as expected, Yang Wenhao spotted a familiar face.

“Yu Canghai.”

At the sight of Yu Canghai, Yang Wenhao narrowed his eyes. He remembered that Yu Canghai had also received one of his notes.

“Do you want my help?” Dongfang Bubai asked.

“No need,” Yang Wenhao replied. “I alone am more than enough.”

Two innate masters against a single first-class martial artist—Yu Canghai wasn’t worthy of such an honor.

With a flicker, Yang Wenhao vanished like a specter into the night.

Yu Canghai and several of his disciples were stealthily closing in on the old house, having staked out the place for days in hope of obtaining the Evil-Repelling Sword Art.

Suddenly, Yu Canghai’s heart skipped a beat. Sensing danger, he drew his sword to block the threat.

Clang!

Their sword blades met, but to Yu Canghai’s shock, his weapon shattered under the force.

Yang Wenhao’s sword, undiminished by the blow, pressed on with even greater ferocity, slashing straight at Yu Canghai.

Yu Canghai, alarmed, tried to dodge.

Crash!

A wooden pillar where Yu Canghai had just stood was left with a deep gash several centimeters deep.

Had that blow landed on a person, their meridians would have been severed and they would have died on the spot.

Yu Canghai took another sword from his disciple, eyeing his opponent warily. When the man turned to face him, Yu Canghai was dumbfounded.

“It’s you!”

He never imagined that the one who had ambushed him was the very man he’d spent so long searching for.

“No wonder you’re called Master Yu—the art of hiding suits you well,” Yang Wenhao said, undeterred by his missed strike. Whether by ambush or direct assault, Yu Canghai’s fate was sealed.

“Boy, you’re dead tonight!” Humiliated by Yang Wenhao, Yu Canghai’s pride would suffer no further delay.

(End of chapter)