Chapter Forty-Eight: The Scorpion Sect

Yan Lingji watched as Li Yu made his third trip to the latrine, a growing sense of guilt stirring in her heart.

“That porridge doesn’t taste good. Why do you keep eating it?” she asked, blinking her beautiful eyes curiously as Li Yu returned.

“It’s a gift from the fairy. Of course I must eat it; otherwise, I’d be letting down your kindness,” Li Yu replied dotingly, gazing at the little sprite before him.

“But next time, could you use fewer ingredients when cooking porridge? Maybe… just a pinch of fine salt would do. Leave out the poisonous stuff. And the preserved fruits—no need to add those either. The flavors clash,” Li Yu advised patiently.

“I’ll pay attention next time. Actually, I could make another pot right now—I’ll make it tastier than before,” Yan Lingji said, already rising as the thought occurred to her.

Li Yu quickly pulled her back. “No need to trouble yourself! Later, I’ll cook myself—a full Manchu-Han banquet to celebrate our seven days of acquaintance,” he said, coaxing her as though she were a child.

“Then I want to eat your roast duck again!” Yan Lingji replied without hesitation, ordering her dish directly.

“Alright, I’ll get started now. That dish takes a while—please wait a bit,” Li Yu said, heading toward the eastern kitchen.

Yan Lingji watched Li Yu’s departing figure, her gaze gradually softening.

Night fell.

The lake shimmered, reflecting a sky of glazed blue. A warm breeze caressed the surface, breaking the mirror-like calm into glimmering ripples that spread outward like layers of fish scales, radiating brilliant golden light.

Li Yu led Yan Lingji to the railing to admire the villa’s nightscape.

With a whoosh, a streak of light shot across the silent sky, then burst with a resounding crack.

Dazzling fireworks blossomed like flowers overhead. More and more followed, painting the sky with a thousand colors—vivid as spring blossoms, radiant as the evening clouds, splendid as a rainbow stretched across the heavens.

Yan Lingji gazed at the brilliant spectacle, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears, and gradually rested her head on Li Yu’s shoulder.

“Will you always spoil me like this?” she murmured softly.

“Of course. You’re heaven’s favorite, nature’s gift to me. If I didn’t cherish you, lightning would strike me,” Li Yu replied gently, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

Feeling the atmosphere was just right, Li Yu drew the little spirit closer, lifted her delicate chin, and leaned in for the cherry-red lips he’d longed for.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pinch. “Why did you pinch me?” he asked, startled.

“I… I’m scared,” Yan Lingji whispered, burying her face in his chest, shy as could be.

If you’re scared, why not pinch yourself? Li Yu thought, speechless.

He scooped Yan Lingji up in his arms. She curled up like a gentle kitten, quietly nestled against him.

“Don’t worry. I just want to hold you like this. If you’re unwilling, I won’t force you,” he said tenderly.

“Mm,” Yan Lingji replied softly.

And so, a beautiful scene was frozen in time.

…

After arriving in Xinzhen, Li Yu felt time slipping through his fingers and longed even more for a second clone.

No sooner had he left Lady Mingzhu’s residence—still reminiscing about her flexibility—than his path was blocked by another little darling.

“I just saw you coming out of that witch Lady Mingzhu’s house! Tell me, what were you doing in there?” Little Peach Blossom demanded, hands on her hips.

“Is that how you speak to your master? I was following the King of Han’s orders to discuss perfume with Lady Mingzhu. What’s wrong with that?” Li Yu answered righteously.

Seeing his earnest face, Little Peach Blossom realized she’d overreacted and tugged at his sleeve. “Master, I was wrong. Will you teach me yoga today? You said it’s good for my figure. I don’t know why, but I’ve gained weight lately,” she said, patting her chest.

That’s just you developing, Li Yu thought, feeling helpless.

“Of course. But yoga requires a quiet place, free from interruptions,” he replied with perfect seriousness.

“My back garden then! No one goes there,” she said, pulling him along toward her home.

Li Yu enjoyed the sensation of her smooth, jade-like hand in his, giving it a light squeeze—what a wonderful feeling.

He watched as Little Peach Blossom, utterly serious, performed the Cow Face Pose, her budding curves straining against her clothes.

“Ten more breaths—hold on,” Li Yu said, genuinely feeling grateful to be alive.

“Master, why are you staring at me?” she asked.

“I’m checking your posture,” Li Yu replied, quickly averting his gaze and putting on a stern expression.

“Really?” she asked, a little suspicious.

A woman’s sixth sense is terrifying.

“Next time I’ll teach you to play the recorder. Girls shouldn’t always be fighting—you should cultivate elegance,” Li Yu said, changing the subject.

“I’m already learning piano,” Little Peach Blossom retorted.

“One more skill never hurts. It’s decided,” Li Yu said, rising to correct her posture again.

What girl isn’t sentimental at heart? Little Peach Blossom couldn’t quite describe her feelings for Li Yu; she only knew that whenever he corrected her, her heart would race and her body would go soft.

She’d even asked the palace doctors, who all said she was healthy—just growing up.

But why didn’t she feel this way when others touched her?

The problem must be with Master. Master is poisonous.

…

At Zilan Pavilion,

Li Yu had his left arm around Nongyu and his right around Zi Nu, looking thoroughly content.

Across from them, Han Fei was completely unsurprised.

“Brother Fang, what do you think of the Tidal Demoness?” he asked.

Li Yu was taken aback, popping another piece of fruit into his mouth. “Why do you ask?”

Han Fei replied, “There’s the Crimson-Blood Marquis, the Jade Tiger on Stone, the Tidal Demoness of the Azure Sea, and the Straw-Cloaked Guest beneath the moon. The first two are well known—one holds military power, the other is fabulously wealthy. But the Tidal Demoness and the Cloaked Guest are shrouded in mystery, impossible to grasp.”

Li Yu said, “To catch the ringleader, you must first catch the king. We only need to watch Ji Wuye closely. They’ll slip up eventually.”

“True. The Cloaked Guest handles intelligence, the Tidal Demoness manages the harem. There are over six hundred women in the palace, but only two are favored—Lady Mingzhu and Lady Hu. Which do you think it is?” Han Fei asked.

Li Yu only knew both were his women.

“Lady Hu seems too gentle and frail. Lady Mingzhu is more likely—she just feels… bewitching,” Li Yu said, then quickly composed himself.

“I want to send someone into the palace to investigate. I think Miss Nongyu is best suited,” Han Fei proposed.

“Don’t even think about it—that’s my wife,” Li Yu refused outright. What kind of joke was this—sending one wife to investigate another? Han Fei must be out of his mind.

“I’ve been seeing Lady Mingzhu often lately due to the perfume issue. Leave this to me,” Li Yu declared, patting his chest to claim the task and keep Han Fei from pestering his wife.

“Brother Fang, your Tianxia Bank’s ability to gather funds is truly impressive—I’m in awe,” Han Fei said.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Li Yu replied modestly, as long as you don’t curse me later.

After Han Fei left, Li Yu took Nongyu’s delicate hand and asked, “You still haven’t reunited with your mother? She’s all alone now—rather pitiful.”

“I’ll do as you decide, husband,” Nongyu answered.

Li Yu nodded. “Alright, leave it to me. By the way, it’s getting late… Should we… try for a child?”

Morning.

When Li Yu opened his eyes, Nongyu had already risen and was preparing breakfast.

“Husband, eat while it’s hot,” she said, bringing the bowl directly to him.

Li Yu smiled. “I feel like I’m getting spoiled.”

“It’s my duty to serve you,” Nongyu said gently—as long as she wasn’t in bed, she was always so tender.

I’m hopelessly in love with you.

In the main hall, he found Zi Nu practicing piano and approached to ask, “Zi’er, where’s your younger brother?”

The music ended with a final note. Zi Nu looked up curiously. “Why are you looking for him?”

“I need to ask him something,” Li Yu replied with a smile.

“He’ll be back later—he’s hardly home during the day. I’ll let you know when he returns,” Zi Nu promised.

“Thank you,” Li Yu said.

“Your piano playing is getting more and more refined,” he added.

“I really don’t know how your mind works. How did you even invent this instrument? It feels like something from another era,” Zi Nu said, giving him a sidelong glance.

Li Yu laughed and rubbed his nose. “I don’t know, it just popped into my head.”

Zi Nu rolled her eyes and continued her practice.

At Lanshou Villa,

Li Yu held Yan Lingji in his arms.

“Do you want revenge?” he whispered in her ear.

“Revenge? On the Han King’s palace?” she asked curiously.

“On the ones who trafficked you—the biggest crime syndicate in Han, with military backing. Are you interested?” he continued.

“Oh?” Yan Lingji’s interest was piqued, her sapphire eyes meeting his.

She’d been terribly bored lately; if not for Li Yu’s company, she would have left already.

“We’ll act tonight. I’ll let you know when,” Li Yu said, sharing his plan.

…

It was a dark, windy night—perfect for murder and arson.

Draped in red, with a thousand strands flowing, Yan Lingji stood on the eaves, watching Li Yu approach.

A rare smile appeared on her beautiful, cold face as she leapt to Li Yu’s side.

With Li Yu came a white-haired, stern-faced man.

Yan Lingji looked at him curiously. “Master, who is he? He looks fierce!”

“Hey! I told you not to call me Master. If you must, call me Ayu—or Yu Lang, if you like,” Li Yu corrected, then turned to introduce, “This is Wei Zhuang, one of the Ghost Valley heirs—a show-off, but a master swordsman.”

Then, addressing Wei Zhuang, he added, “And this is the little fairy, Yan Lingji—my future wife. Her favorite thing is me.”

Both glared at him simultaneously.

Wei Zhuang, in his youth, was cooler but still humane—not like his later years, when he’d make people comb his hair at the drop of a hat.

Life’s experiences shape a person.

Scorpion Sect—the largest human trafficking ring in Han.

Its members patrolled as usual, kicking any slaves who displeased them. Screams and curses filled the air.

Suddenly, the main gate was violently thrown open.

Li Yu, Yan Lingji, Wei Zhuang, and Wushuang Gui appeared at the entrance to the courtyard.

Though Li Yu had braced himself, the sight before him still stunned him—emaciated elders, half-naked girls, limbless children, all crammed into tiny wooden cages.

Some cowered, some stared blankly, others wailed.

It was hell on earth.

“Kill them all. Leave none,” Li Yu said, his voice trembling.

The gang members quickly noticed the four intruders and gathered in force.

Backed by the military, Scorpion Sect had run rampant in Han for years and were slow to react to trouble. One stepped forward, demanding, “Who are you? Do you know where you are?”

“The one who’s going to kill you,” Li Yu replied, raising his wooden staff. With a light step, his figure blurred.

A clear metallic sound rang out, and Li Yu’s sword was stained crimson.

Wei Zhuang’s eyes narrowed in surprise—he hadn’t expected that the wooden stick Li Yu always fiddled with was actually a sword, and a strange one at that.

Nor that Li Yu’s sword would be so swift.

Wei Zhuang felt his own Sharktooth Sword tremble, a surge of competitive spirit rising within him.

The sword had been well hidden.

Though Li Yu often sparred with Jing Ni, this was his first time killing. There was no thrill, nor was there the revulsion shown on TV—just cold indifference toward these traffickers.

Wei Zhuang soon joined the fray. The Sharktooth Sword lived up to its reputation—every stroke took a life.

Wushuang Gui bellowed with excitement, yanking a wooden staff from the ground, chains and all, and swept it in broad arcs.

Against a crowd, Wushuang Gui was more effective than even Wei Zhuang, let alone Li Yu.

With every swing, three or five fell and did not rise.

As their numbers dwindled, the inner courtyard doors swung open.

Unlike the rabble outside, those within were all dressed in black—Scorpion Sect’s professional assassins.

They looked toward the chaos in the outer yard, surprise and malice in their eyes. Clearly, they hadn’t expected anyone to storm their den, let alone with such swagger.

When they saw there were only four—Wei Zhuang, Li Yu, and the others—their expressions grew colder, some even grinning cruelly.

Scorpion Sect was notoriously ruthless to its enemies.

As for who these intruders were, or why they dared invade, the assassins couldn’t have cared less. They were desperate men with nothing to lose—if they had brains, they wouldn’t be here.

Besides, Wei Zhuang’s fame had not yet reached the heights it would in the Qin era, when his name alone could silence a crying child.

So none of the Scorpion Sect assassins recognized him.

And those in Han who knew of Wei Zhuang’s prowess and his Ghost Valley lineage were few—certainly not among the Scorpion Sect.

As more people appeared, a man stepped forward from the crowd—the sect leader himself, nicknamed Scorpion. Years in the underworld had made him forget his real name; even his followers only knew him as Scorpion.

He watched Li Yu and company enter, then glanced at a familiar face.

“You? What are you doing here?” he asked, addressing the white-haired Wei Zhuang.

“You annoy me,” Wei Zhuang replied curtly.

“We’ve always minded our own business. You come killing in my territory—don’t you respect me at all?” Scorpion retorted, unruffled. He was confident in his numbers and curious to see if Wei Zhuang was as formidable as the rumors.

“Attack!” Scorpion promptly withdrew, sending his lackeys in first.

For men like them, power and money were all that mattered—loyalty and honor meant nothing.

Wushuang Gui led the way, his iron frame and titanic strength making him suited for the battlefield—what a waste as a killer, Li Yu thought, shaking his head.

Wei Zhuang’s sweeping strikes, Li Yu’s agile maneuvers, and Yan Lingji’s uncanny fire arts made the battlefield a spectacle.

Wei Zhuang soon tired of the small fry and, while swinging his sword, called out to Li Yu, “Summon your guards—I don’t have time for this.”

Li Yu, cleaving through foes with his Tang blade, laughed back, “I’m avenging my wife tonight. It wouldn’t be right to involve outsiders. Just consider this a favor—I owe you, and my favors are worth a lot.”

Li Yu was well aware of Wei Zhuang’s strength—an unleashed Wei Zhuang could destroy Scorpion Sect single-handedly.

Seeing Li Yu play the rogue, Wei Zhuang scowled and unleashed his ultimate move—Eight Directions Cleave.

A golden arc of sword energy shot from his blade, sweeping through the crowd of Scorpion Sect disciples.

With a chorus of screams, the courtyard was suddenly much emptier.

Li Yu was envious—he longed to try releasing sword energy himself.

Jing Ni’s sword was too supple for him.

His own Taiji swordplay emphasized both hardness and softness, but he’d never managed to emit sword energy.

Watching Wei Zhuang’s technique, inspiration struck.

Li Yu drew slow circles with his sword, channeling his inner energy until it focused to a single point—then unleashed it in a sudden explosion.

With a tremendous crash, everyone and everything in the path was sent flying.

Wei Zhuang narrowed his eyes at Li Yu’s move, especially that last flourish—it was distinctly reminiscent of Eight Directions Cleave.

He was sure Li Yu had picked it up just now.

As their foes dwindled, Scorpion’s confidence turned to panic and he began edging backward.

When Li Yu finished off the last assassin, he realized Scorpion had vanished.