Chapter Thirty-Four: First Encounter with Lan Wutong

Just as Shenguangzi, gathering the last of his strength, was about to fight once more, a silvery, bell-like laughter rang down from the roof. “Ha ha ha! Oh my, Protector Shenguangzi is injured? How dreadful!” With the laughter, a beautiful maiden in Miao attire appeared before the crowd, a handful of similarly dressed young women following close behind.

Shenguangzi, flustered and furious, shouted, “I was momentarily careless and let this little thief get the better of me—now you venomous harpies get to enjoy my embarrassment!” The maiden replied with a beaming smile, “Oh dear, Protector Shenguangzi, why must you speak so harshly? Who are you calling a venomous harpy? I have a name—Lan Wutong. Very well, though my mistress is not present, I cannot sit idly by while the Protector’s honor is sullied. How about I, Lan Wutong, settle this score for you?” Without waiting for Shenguangzi’s reply, she leapt from the roof. Even as she sailed through the air, a blue, shimmering whip flashed from her sleeve, lashing toward Du Xin.

Seeing the strange weapon, Du Xin dared not seize it barehanded and instead parried with his sword. The whip coiled around the blade with a metallic clang, and, on closer inspection, he saw that it was studded with countless steel needles. Cold sweat broke out on his back as he realized with horror that, had he grabbed it, his flesh would have been ripped away in bloody strips. All the while, Lan Wutong’s smile bloomed like a flower, and her whip danced relentlessly, wave upon wave crashing toward him like a surging tide. Teasing, she called, “Such a handsome young man! Why not stay and keep me company?” The Miao women were bold and direct—nothing like the demure, shy maidens of the Central Plains. Du Xin, thoroughly embarrassed, retorted, “Wicked woman, mind your tongue!” He employed his Shadowless Steps, his form flickering and elusive, barely evading the whip.

Lan Wutong laughed, “Such fine skill! But when it comes to lightness arts, you’re far beneath Protector Shenguangzi. If he were to duel you, he’d exploit his strengths and you’d be in trouble. Protector, it seems you’ve called on the wrong god—should’ve summoned Nezha, not clumsy Weituo.” Shenguangzi, already suffering from his old wounds, coughed up another mouthful of blood from fury at her words. His disciples roared, “Witch, hold your tongue!”

Though Lan Wutong’s martial arts were far inferior to Shenguangzi’s, Du Xin, seeing her Miao attire and recalling Shenguangzi’s taunt of “venomous harpy,” surmised she was skilled in poisons. He kept his distance, wary of her strange techniques, and found her hard to subdue in a hurry. After a dozen exchanges, Du Xin found an opening and pressed the attack with several swift strokes. Lan Wutong was forced on the defensive, switching her whip to her left hand while flicking her right fingers, sending a small pellet, no bigger than a pigeon’s egg, flying at Du Xin. Mistaking it for a hidden weapon, he knocked it aside with his sword—only for the pellet to burst with a soft pop, releasing a cloud of red mist. Knowing it was poison, Du Xin instantly held his breath and activated his protective energy, sending the mist billowing back.

Back when Li Chongyuan first climbed Tianshan, Du Xin’s protective qi could already scatter snowflakes; then, his internal strength was only at the fifth level. Seven years had since passed, and his mastery had reached the seventh. Dispelling such insubstantial poison mist was a trifle. Just then, Li Chongjun, having searched the compound in vain for any sign of Zilan, returned and, seeing the scene, unleashed his Wind and Thunder Palm. The frigid gale swept the poisonous mist toward Shenguangzi’s followers. Shenguangzi himself leapt to the roof, but his disciples were a step too slow—the mist entered their noses and mouths, and they collapsed instantly.

Lan Wutong, catching sight of Li Chongjun, blushed and called out, “What a perfect pair you make! Why not both stay with me? I’ll take you to Miao territory and show you a life like that of the immortals.” Knowing her expertise with poisons, Li Chongjun feared for Du Xin’s safety and called, “Junior brother, let’s withdraw for now and reconsider our next move.” Du Xin nodded, and together they leapt to the roof.

Li Chongjun shouted, “Hand over my junior sister at once, or you’ll know no peace from this day forth!” With that, he and Du Xin vanished, light as wind.

Knowing she could not match them, Lan Wutong made no move to pursue, smilingly taunting, “Protector Shenguangzi, how could you let trouble come knocking at your door?” Shenguangzi spat, “They’re the ones who snatched Zhu Shitian from me! I was about to settle things with them, but now they’re hounding me instead. Lan Wutong, why didn’t you pursue them?” Lan Wutong spread her hands. “How could I? They’re a bold lot. Who are they, anyway?” Shenguangzi replied, “Judging by their skills, they’re surely from Tianshan Sect. Hmph! Once I’ve recovered, I’ll march up Tianshan and demand justice.” Lan Wutong started at this. “Tianshan Sect? Did you really abduct their junior sister?” Shenguangzi exploded, “I’ve never even seen their junior sister! They’re making it up!” At that moment, a red-robed attendant rushed in. “Protector, bad news! Five of our stewards have been killed!” Shenguangzi rounded on Lan Wutong, pointing a trembling finger. “You venomous harpy, you let the murderer escape! How will you answer to the Holy Envoy?” Lan Wutong sneered, “Had we not belonged to the same sect, I wouldn’t have bothered with you at all. Instead of thanking me for saving your life, you blame me for letting the enemy go. Well, when the Holy Envoy arrives, I’ll speak my piece: the mighty Protector was beaten to spitting blood and nearly slain, while I, a mere maid, drove off the foe. Maybe I ought to take your position!” Shenguangzi, livid, lunged at her chest with his jade flute. Lan Wutong was ready: she drew a tiny jade gourd from her robes, its translucent body half-filled with an inky black substance that swirled within like smoke or water. With a flick of her finger, a black thread shot from the gourd’s mouth, fine as a hair and black as midnight. It struck the jade flute, and at once the flute turned black, the stain spreading rapidly. Shenguangzi hastily let go—another moment and the blackness would have reached his hand. The flute, once hard as stone, shattered before it hit the ground, its fragments snapping and hissing until nothing remained but dust.

Shenguangzi, both shocked and enraged, leapt back several yards and sent sparks flying from his sleeve toward Lan Wutong. The black thread writhed like a serpent, and every spark that touched it was instantly extinguished. The thread darted straight for Shenguangzi’s face, thinning to near-invisibility as it closed the distance. Shenguangzi struck out with his palm wind, scattering the thread, but it instantly reformed and hovered a hair’s breadth from his nose, flickering like a serpent’s tongue. Lan Wutong laughed. “This is my guardian gu, the Bone-Melting Poison Phoenix. Even your famed jade flute is nothing before it. If I so much as will it, it could take your life.” With that, she and her companions, laughing and chatting, turned away, the gourd’s black mist spiraling within as they strolled into the night.

Watching them go, Shenguangzi ground out, “One day, I’ll make that venomous harpy die a death beyond imagining.”

After wreaking havoc at the Chaotian Temple, Li Chongjun and Du Xin concealed themselves in the woods outside Guihua City. Ji Wuce and Zi Wuzhu took turns watching the temple for days, but its inhabitants, on edge yet simply reinforcing their defenses, showed no other suspicious behavior. This confirmed Ji Wuce’s second suspicion: Zilan was not at the Chaotian Temple, and even Shenguangzi and Poison Guanyin didn’t know her whereabouts. Since that was the case, lingering any longer would be pointless. After much discussion, the four decided to leave the next day, to either rendezvous with Yang Wuji in Hengyang or check on Li Duo’zuo near Mount Song.

At dusk, the four shared a meal at a small inn, buying beef, flatbread, and other food for the road. Du Xin, Zi Wuzhu, and Ji Wuce packed their luggage inside, while Li Chongjun went out to purchase horses.

He had just entered the livestock market as it was closing. Only a few idle brokers remained, gathering up scruffy horses and sluggish oxen, swapping gossip about the day’s trade. Not a single good horse was in sight; he’d have to return early the next morning. Just as he was about to leave, a small boy ran up and asked, “Young master, are you looking for a fast horse? My master has one for you.” The boy wore the red brocade robe of the Chaotian Temple. Li Chongjun’s heart tightened—his enemies had tracked him down. So, the Crane Sect had some skill after all: the moment he showed himself, they had eyes on him. Well, he’d be happy to cause them more havoc before leaving. Li Chongjun asked, “Where is your master?” The boy replied, “Please follow me, sir.” With that, he trotted off ahead. Li Chongjun, confident in his skills, followed, gripping his sword in readiness.

They reached a remote, deserted spot where a richly decorated carriage stood waiting. Several women in Miao dress came forward and whispered, “Please come this way, young master.” At the carriage, one woman announced, “Mistress, the honored guest has arrived.” From within came a sweet, lilting voice: “Please, honored guest, join me inside for a talk.” Li Chongjun readied his energy, stepped cautiously into the carriage, and was met with an exquisite fragrance. In the center stood a small table set with fine tea ware, a red clay stove heating an elegant silver kettle. Seated cross-legged were two Miao women—one was Lan Wutong, with whom he had crossed blades; the other, in her twenties, was strikingly beautiful, splendidly dressed and adorned with silver ornaments. Whenever she moved, her jewelry chimed. As Li Chongjun entered, Lan Wutong leaned in to whisper in the lavishly dressed woman’s ear; when finished, she giggled, her cheeks flushed. The hostess cast Lan Wutong a reproachful glance, and Lan Wutong immediately straightened, though her bright eyes continued to flit over Li Chongjun with undisguised curiosity.