Chapter 94: So It Was the Third Young Master

In the tavern, the sudden assassination left everyone else utterly stunned.

But it was clear the middle-aged man in fine clothes was extraordinarily skilled, his swordsmanship far from ordinary. Though forced onto the defensive, he reacted in an instant and drove the blade in his hand straight through the old man’s chest.

A single thrust through the heart.

Even Zheng Jian could not help looking at the well-dressed man with newfound respect. In a situation like that, under assassination, to not only block the attack but answer with such a clean and decisive counterkill was truly brilliant.

That old man had made his entrance only moments before, had not even had time to announce his name, and now he was bowing out in such a splendid fashion.

A pity. A tragedy.

Yet it seemed this assassination had only just begun. The instant the old man died, at another table a middle-aged woman who had been feeding a crippled man suddenly struck. From her hand burst a cloud of black needles, all of them clearly poisoned, the kind that killed on mere contact.

It had to be said that her timing was perfect.

The man in fine clothes had just pierced his opponent through the heart. By ordinary reasoning, when one survives an assassination and kills the assassin in return, that is exactly the moment when relief loosens the heart and vigilance naturally slackens. Even if one grows wary again afterward, that brief instant of relaxation is impossible to control.

And this seemingly plain middle-aged woman had chosen precisely that moment to explode into action.

While Zheng Jian inwardly tightened with alarm, he also gained a first clear understanding of the martial world in this place.

Here, there were hidden blades in every shadow.

The man in fine clothes truly had relaxed for an instant, but he was after all an extremely formidable swordsman. The sword in his hand seemed almost alive. There was no time to pull it free from the old man’s body and use it to block the dense volley of black needles, so he simply exerted force through his wrist and, with a sharp lift, sent the corpse of the old man flying.

Its direction was exactly where the black needles were coming from.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud...

Not a single needle missed. Every one of them sank into the old man’s corpse. With a hiss and a sizzle, wisps of green smoke rose from the body.

"Corrosive poison needles!"

The middle-aged man in fine clothes was visibly shocked, apparently recognizing the woman’s hidden weapon.

The woman did not even glance at the crippled man beside her, as though he were not her husband at all. The moment her black needles were blocked, she had already crashed through the window and vanished outside, without hesitation and without the slightest delay.

This had been a premeditated ambush.

And the target had been the man in fine clothes.

It was only a pity that an almost flawless assassination had been narrowly foiled by its target.

Yet from the look in the man’s eyes, Zheng Jian could make out a trace of fear.

It was strange. He had just killed one attacker and driven off another, and yet he himself had become fearful, as though from this ambush he had discerned the identities of those behind it, or at least the force standing behind them.

That force must be immense and terrifying, enough to make even this highly accomplished swordsman reveal such fear.

Having witnessed all this, Zheng Jian not only understood that this world was full of danger, with assassinations impossible to guard against at any time and place, he also understood that the martial world here absolutely contained powers so fearsome they could strike terror into many a wanderer of the blade.

Though the man in fine clothes had escaped unscathed, he did not dare remain in the tavern. In fact, all the patrons there soon hurried away as well. Only two people still sat unmoved, apparently unaffected by the turmoil.

One was naturally Zheng Jian. The other was a black-clad man with black hair and a black sword scabbard on his back. Even his face seemed gray-black, as though he embodied nothing but the ash-gray of death. Only his eyes were bright.

"Friend, even One Sword Through the Heart, Gao Tong, fled. Why are you still here?" the black-clad man asked Zheng Jian. His voice was hoarse, and hearing it gave one an immediate sense of discomfort.

Zheng Jian considered for two seconds, then said slowly, "Has the bill not been settled yet?"

The man froze, then laughed. "Can’t you see the tavern owner is dead? Who are you going to settle with? Burn him a couple of spirit papers?"

Zheng Jian shook his head and replied solemnly, "He may be dead, but the tavern is still open. And I am the new owner of this tavern. Your drinks come to three taels and two candareens. Not too much, I hope?"

The man stared at Zheng Jian in astonishment, then burst out laughing. "Not much, not much! Hahahaha, that’s too interesting. You want to take over this tavern?"

Zheng Jian nodded. "That’s right. I like drinking, and there’s wine here. Isn’t that perfect?"

The black-clad man thought it over and found that Zheng Jian actually made a certain amount of sense. He casually took out a broken silver piece from his pocket and placed it on the table. "You want three taels and two candareens? I’ll give you five taels. I’m only afraid you’ll have the luck to take it, but not the luck to spend it."

Zheng Jian raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

The black-clad man fixed his gaze on the Tears-of-Sorrow Sword at Zheng Jian’s back. "A fine sword. I like it."

Zheng Jian laughed and took off the Tears-of-Sorrow Sword, laying it on the table. "It is indeed a fine sword. If you want it, feel free to come take it. I’m only afraid you’ll have the luck to take it, but not the luck to use it."

The black-clad man’s eyes went wide. It was plain that he truly loved fine swords. He stared straight at the Tears-of-Sorrow Sword and said, "My name is Crow. I love fine swords. My only hobby is collecting famous blades."

At that, Zheng Jian found the name vaguely familiar, though he could not recall where he had heard it. There was nothing to be done about it; after more than a decade in the world of Smiling Proud Wanderer, he no longer remembered many details of the things he had once read in his previous life.

But Zheng Jian was certain he had heard the name before. After thinking for a moment, he probed, "Then what famous swords have you collected?"

Crow still kept his eyes on the Tears-of-Sorrow Sword. "Fourteen so far. I had originally wanted to collect the sword of One Sword Through the Heart, Gao Tong, as well, but unfortunately he got away."

"Besides my Tears-of-Sorrow Sword and Gao Tong’s blade, I’m curious: whose sword do you most want?" Zheng Jian asked.

Crow smiled again. His laugh was hoarse and unpleasant, truly sounding like the cry of a crow. "In this world, there are many swords I want, but the two I want most are only two."

"Let’s hear them," Zheng Jian said casually.

Crow replied, "I know why you ask. In truth, you ought to know the two most famous swords in the world. And yet you still ask me. Looking at you, you don’t seem to be pretending, which means you truly don’t know. It’s like you’ve only just entered the martial world. But just now, everyone else left and you had the nerve to stay, even charging me for the wine. That means you’re not a newcomer after all. You are very contradictory. I’m becoming more and more curious about you. Who are you?"

Zheng Jian smiled faintly and took a sip of wine. "Curiosity killed the cat."

He then added, "You still haven’t said which two swords you want most."

Crow’s expression suddenly grew devout, as though he were a pilgrim before a sacred shrine. "The one I want most, of course, is the world’s number one sword, the blade before Green Water Lake beneath Emerald Cloud Peak."

At that, a flash of lightning went through Zheng Jian’s mind. He knew exactly where this was now.

Beneath Emerald Cloud Peak, before Green Water Lake. The Sword Villa. The Third Young Master.

This was The Sword of the Third Young Master.