Chapter Twenty-Seven: Turmoil

Moon Song was stunned, her gaze lingering on the hand pressed against her chest. Rain trickled into her eyes, stinging faintly. She blinked and suddenly looked up, wrapping her left hand around Clear Breeze’s wrist as her right gripped the blade, slicing toward his abdomen.

With a sneer, she said, “You really don’t know what’s good for you. Others beg me for a glance and I don’t even bother. Since meeting you, I’ve helped you time and again, and in return, you’re nothing but an ungrateful wretch.”

Clear Breeze sidestepped the attack, his two fingers pinching the blade’s tip with lightning speed, halting Moon Song’s advance.

Coldly, he replied, “I never asked for your favor, yet you keep pestering me. Earlier you nearly delayed me from saving someone, and now you shed blood in my valley. In Weiye Valley, killers are not welcome. Please leave.”

Moon Song tried to pull back her steel knife, but it wouldn’t budge, as if cast from bronze. Her thoughts churned—she hadn’t expected such skill from this fool.

But when Clear Breeze threatened to drive her away, rage flared. “You want me gone?”

“Yes.”

“Do you even know who these people are? You don’t ask, just throw me out? All my goodwill, wasted on you?”

“Did you ask before you killed?” Clear Breeze’s gaze flicked to the corpses, his expression growing ever more grim.

Everyone knew the rules of Leaf Valley: save, never kill. Yet she repeatedly broke them. Enough was enough.

“Nonsense! How can you compare me to them? I was saving you, afraid your stupidity would get you killed, thinking they were good people. Damn, I’ve never seen anyone so dense.”

“Is that so? You mean to say Clear Breeze cannot protect himself?” His words barely left his lips when the rain intensified, blurring vision and sounding like a thousand whispers. Murderous intent rose with the storm—cold, piercing the soul.

Yet Moon Song’s focus shifted, her mood lifting. She grinned, “Eh? So you do have a name?”

“...Noisy.”

Clear Breeze summoned his inner strength, a surge flowing through his veins. In a flash, powerful energy traveled down the steel knife, striking Moon Song’s vitals.

“You’re serious?” Caught off guard, Moon Song staggered back, her lungs wounded. Before she could catch her breath, Clear Breeze pressed forward, palm raised.

His hand, pale as jade, carried unmatched force. As it fell, rain and wind became a curtain of beads; he moved through it effortlessly.

Moon Song met the attack head-on, her own palm raised. At the moment of impact, her blood surged, and several sharp cracks sounded—her left arm fell limp.

Clear Breeze asked, “How is it?”

True or false?

Moon Song glanced at her arm, gripping her knife across her chest, and calmly answered, “Still good.”

With those words, she moved with her blade, spirit guiding steel. In a blink, the rain grew heavier, winds colder; even Clear Breeze’s expression changed.

“Take this move—Farewell to the Western Wind. It’s your send-off.”

Suddenly, wind and rain became wild, three thousand threads of silver falling from the void, each one a harbinger of death.

Witnessing this, Scholar Wisteria inside the house could no longer sit still. He jumped from his chair, walked to the door, and said to White Crane, “Hey, brother, shouldn’t you intervene? If this keeps up, someone will die.”

White Crane looked up, “I trust my friend’s judgment.”

“You sound so certain that Clear Breeze will win. What if he loses to that brat?”

“Don’t worry. But tell me, have you figured out who that person is?”

With such skill, he couldn’t be just anybody.

Wisteria half-closed his eyes, silent for a moment. “Never seen him. The moves are unfamiliar. Hmm…”

“What’s wrong?” White Crane asked.

“I can’t say. It just feels off. With his ability, his technique shouldn’t be this awkward. It’s like… he just learned it, not fully mastered, and is already showing off.”

“You mean he’s deliberately hiding his true background?”

Wisteria waved his hand, “Hey, I never said anything.”

“It’s not reliable,” he added.

White Crane understood. “What’s your take on those intruders?”

“What else? Just the rats you attracted. If you think about it, they were dragged into this mess because of you, and ended up poking Clear Breeze’s hornet’s nest.”

He paused. “How many enemies do you really have? Otherwise, why would someone be crazy enough to attempt an assassination in Weiye Valley?”

White Crane smiled without answering. He had only one enemy, but that one was the enemy of all.

Just then, he saw Clear Breeze getting serious and quickly called out, “Friend, wait.”

The attack, meant for the crown of Moon Song’s head, veered to strike the grass instead.

“Leave Weiye Valley, or I will kill you.”

Moon Song wiped the blood from her mouth, holding her steel knife, and challenged, “What if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll grant your wish.” With that, Clear Breeze struck, sending her flying out of the valley.

As he turned, his glance caught a token in the grass, which leapt into his palm.

Wisteria hurried over with his umbrella. “Any discoveries?”

Clear Breeze tossed him the token before heading back to the house. “See for yourself.”

“What’s this?” Wisteria caught it and examined the token, then squatted to search the corpses for clues.

Unfortunately, he found nothing. He returned to the cottage.

“Any results?” White Crane asked.

Wisteria closed his umbrella, letting water drip off outside, and brushed off his clothes. “Nothing. They’re real people, real faces. Eyes and nose, not fake.”

“Nothing to prove their identity?”

“Here, see for yourself.” He handed the token to White Crane, just as Clear Breeze finished tending to Misty Dust inside and returned.

Wisteria immediately stepped forward. “How is the young master?”

“No harm. He’ll wake tomorrow.” Clear Breeze formed a gesture; his damp clothes instantly dried.

“Really?” Wisteria grinned at the news.

Clear Breeze ignored him, found a seat, and noticed White Crane studying the token. “Any thoughts?”

White Crane placed it aside. “It’s real.”

“Hm?” Wisteria was surprised; he’d assumed it was fake, some frame-up.

He hadn’t expected it to be genuine.

“The Bai family’s tokens always feature a hundred birds as the totem, with the head’s name embedded. The head then infuses the token with their aura, to distinguish real from fake. See this one—birds patterned over flowing clouds, signifying the current head, Bai Flowing Year.” White Crane pointed to the token.

Wisteria raised his brow. “So the Bai family made their move? But it could be Bai Flowing Water, not Flowing Year.”

White Crane glanced at him. “The Bai clan honors clouds, reveres birds, and values flowing water lightly.”

“Why?”

“Because water flows downward, birds soar upward,” Clear Breeze interjected.

“So it’s Bai Flowing Year’s doing?” Wisteria eyed the token.

“Not necessarily,” White Crane replied.

“What do you mean? Could someone fake it?” Wisteria nearly laughed. Wouldn’t that be absurd?

“For Bai Flowing Year to be the head, his abilities are unquestionable. Such a basic mistake—if it were you, would you make it?”

Wisteria stiffened. “Of course not, but there are always exceptions. Maybe the culprit wanted us to think exactly that and did it on purpose.”

White Crane nodded. “That’s plausible. But consider: who doesn’t know the rules of Weiye Valley?”

“Well… maybe he counted on that, so sent killers anyway.” Wisteria found a seat.

“It’s possible, but if it were him, he wouldn’t send mere henchmen. A family head wouldn’t openly break taboo—unwise. If he acts, it would be decisive, leaving no trace. The greater the family, the more cautious.” White Crane sipped the water Clear Breeze handed him.

“A cup of thin water, please.” Clear Breeze raised his cup to Wisteria.

Wisteria took it, drank, and thanked him.

He paused. “You’ve talked in circles—just say, was it him?”

“No.”

Wisteria sprayed his drink, quickly wiping his sleeve. “The head’s aura can’t be faked! How do you know he didn’t go against expectations?”

Maybe their thinking was anticipated, leading them astray.

“It can’t be faked, but that doesn’t mean it was him.” White Crane held his cup.

“So what’s your plan?”

“Go along with it.”

“You mean, believe it for now and pin it on the Bai family?” Wisteria straightened.

“Yes, given the current situation. If the enemy stays still, I can’t move. If they act, I’m forced to react.”

“So?”

“So, since the direction is set, we might as well follow it. If we move, the enemy moves. The more they act, the more mistakes they’ll make.”

Wisteria eyed White Crane with a mischievous smile. “Tsk tsk, you look honest, but you’re deeper than you let on.”

Ever since this fellow regained his true face, Wisteria’s feelings were complicated. Why, he wondered, are some people blessed with such looks?

White Crane arched a brow, paused, and sipped water. “You jest, brother.”

“Really? Clear Breeze, am I wrong?” Wisteria turned to Clear Breeze.

Clear Breeze watched them, then looked at his glass, swirling the water gently. “A fox can never hide its tail.”

Wisteria paused, then silently set down his cup.

The room fell into sudden silence.

“Do you have plans for what’s next?” Clear Breeze asked White Crane.

White Crane looked up, blinked, and lowered his gaze. “The Human Emperor Bird’s egg stone has been destroyed, and Frostless’s hope along with it. The only remaining path is to hunt on Human Emperor Island.”

But it was said the Human Emperor was aloof from the world, hunting lone immortals beyond the island, and no one had ever visited. Its location remained unknown. Finding it would not be easy.

“So you risked your life to bring Misty Dust to me?” Clear Breeze refilled his kettle.

White Crane nodded. “Yes. Across the Sea of Desire, among the Palace, Three Families, Five Islands, and Seven Gates, only the hidden Star Loft has obtained such a stone. If Star Loft once had it, they must know its origin.”

“But Star Loft is always led by the master, and Misty Dust spends his years cultivating atop the peak, rarely involved in the affairs of the Loft. Even if the egg stone was entrusted to him, the master may not reveal its source.” In the medicine hut, White Crane had explained this, knowing such a plan would be considered.

Yet Human Emperor Island was perilous and treacherous—a place not easily braved. One misstep meant utter ruin.

White Crane pondered. “I know your concerns, but… this is Frostless’s only hope. I must secure it for him.”

After all, he owed him.