Nightfall

It did not take long for the people in the Chatelain’s Mansion to discover that Zhong Da Jun had been captured. They started searching in Yangzhou City. The warlords’ armed forces showed how powerful their control was, as they discovered a lead in an extremely short period of time. Then, they brought their torches to the rundown temple outside the city.

In the ruined temple, they discovered Zhong Da Jun lying in a pool of blood. After ascertaining that the noble was no longer breathing, they all looked tense and uneasy.

The manors by the side of the Funchun River grew tense because of Zhong Da Jun’s mysterious death. The leads that they found afterwards made the atmosphere even more stifling.

“The two monks boarded the State Ship of the South Jin Kingdom an hour ago. It should already be on the lake. Even if we go after them on a speedboat, I’m afraid we will only catch up when we reach the opposite shore.”

Cui Shi looked at the wrinkles on his father’s face and spoke after a moment of silence, “The Zhong Family’s reaction was really strong. They requested that we immediately send men and give chase. I have stopped them for now.”

The head of the Cui Family looked like an ordinary rich man. But compared to his father the true Dominator of Qinghe County, he seemed not as composed.

The old Master had once served as prime minister of the Tang Empire, and he had great prestige in Qinghe County. He could turn tides just with the wave of his hand, and he had given Qinghe County the rare opportunity they had sought for a millennium. However, such a powerful old man looked like an ordinary servant, and he had indeed once met Ning Que under the guise of an old servant.

“The Zhong Family has no other son as accomplished as him. He died so miserably, it is natural that they would react so strongly. You have done well, we cannot let their anger spoil the hard-earned peace in Qinghe.”

Old Master Cui reached into a copper basin and rubbed the hot wet towel inside it. His weary voice gradually grew, soothed by the heat, and he said, “But we have to find out who those two monks are.”

The most important reason for the low-key response of Qinghe County’s warlords to the murder case tonight was that the two monks were the biggest suspects. In today’s world, Buddhism was as low-key as in previous years, but with the defeat of the Academy and Haotian Taoism, people gradually began to grow wary of the power of those monks.

The old Master covered his face with a hot towel and remained silent for a long time. He felt that there was more to Zhong Da Jun’s death but could do nothing.

“Be silent, be silent.” His voice came through the wet towel, and reverberated through the silent study in the mist. “Qinghe should be silent at a time like this.”

Cui Shi knew where his father’s worries or fears were coming from. But Qinghe would live in fear as long as the West-Hill Divine Palace is unable to destroy the Tang Empire. What was the use of being silent?

Old Master Cui threw the towel into a ball and looked at him and said, “You will keep a low profile for the birthday party tomorrow. As for the House of Red Sleeves… send them out of the country respectfully.”

Cui Shi looked at the white cloth on his father’s face and suddenly thought with malice that it was really like how the old man had died. Then, he agreed calmly and walked out of the study.

It was silent in the study, the old Master stumbled to the side of the case, picked up the cup of tea that was the right temperature, put it to his lips and drank it lightly. His wrinkles were full of worries.

The cup in his hand was shaking gently, and the clear yellow tea looked like waves, just like his mood at this time. After learning of Zhong Da Jun’s death, he behaved very calmly as in the past years, but who would know that he had already started to fear and become uneasy.

At the beginning of his studies, he had set a grand wish to lead Qinghe County to regain its independence and glory from one thousand years ago. He wanted to separate them from the savage and uneducated Tangs. However, he had not dared to do anything, and could only wait.

He nursed his body, strictly controlled his diet, lived for more than 100 years, and was still in good health. He could even live for many more years. Then, the day he had waited for had arrived.

The Headmaster had left the mortal world.

Old Master Cui started to leave his name in history. But he still feared. Especially every night, when he looked at the moon shining over Fuchun River; he was so terrified he could not fall asleep.

Monk Guan Hai and Wudao left on a boat in the night. They would head straight to the West-Hill to participate in the Light Sacrifice organized by the Divine Hall. Wudao might attain an opportunity on their way there, arising from the bloody night, and leave.

Wang Jinglue wore his straw hat and disappeared inside Yangzhou City. Other than Ning Que, no one knew that he was once here, and no one knew where he was hiding or what he was preparing to do.

Zhong Da Jun had died and Qinghe County was uneasy. The manors by Fuchun River started to fear. Ning Que had done what he wanted to and left Qinghe, arriving at the Great Lake.

It was an extremely ordinary passenger ship. Compared to the South Jin Kingdom navy fleets that were patrolling the Great Lake, it was miserably small. The ship would shake badly when it encountered slightly larger than usual waves.

The passenger ship moved very slowly and needed two days to travel through the Great Lake. The people who took the ship were naturally ordinary folks who did not have money. The wide and endless Great Lake, the lake view that grew boring rapidly and the bad smelling cabin that they could not escape from made the already numb people even more so. There were only the sounds of occasional retching that identified that these people were alive.

Ning Que sat at the end of the ship. He did not enter the cabin to squeeze with the others for a sleeping place. The two-day journey was not difficult for him. And if he had not been afraid that he’d call attention upon himself, he would not even eat.

The wind was strong and humid. Ning Que sat at the end of the ship and watched the white froth on the lake’s surface. He did not feel like reciting poetry, and only thought of other things silently.

His Psyche Power was sensing between heaven and earth. He did not want to startle the cultivators in the South Jin navy, and his psyche power was precisely controlled on the lake behind the ship while some part fell into the lake.

On that snowy day, he wrote the word in the snowy street and cut tens of millions of times. From that moment on, not even the Drunkard or the Butcher dared to enter Chang’an.

However, he could not be forever trapped in the city of sorrows. He did not wish to become a prisoner in Chang’an. He knew that he had to leave, especially after the news from the Peach Mountain had spread.

If the world knew that he had left Chang’an, the future that welcomed him would be endless assassinations. He might even see that flagon waving in the wind on the boat the very next moment.

He needed to be able to write that character outside of Chang’an as well.

However, the people in the world are just as numb as the passengers on the ship. Faced with the inescapable, they choose to accept with silence. Who would travel with him?

If there was no one who could travel with him, how would he be able to write the character ‘people’?

Ning Que looked at gulls on the lake, his right hand holding the blade of his iron cutlass. He considered the question silently from day to night, continuing until the morning light turned the lake into a fish belly.

But he still did not receive an answer.