Chapter 23: Autumn Rain's Grim Chill

The battle raged on for a long time, high above the clouds, outside the imperial palace. Many dark clouds and heavy mist in the sky were torn apart, revealing a pristine patch of blue sky behind them, as if freshly washed. It resembled the continuous lakes and swamps that form on dry land after a heavy rain. Beams of heavenly light pierced through the clouds, descending like swords cleaving the sky. They gradually converged, creating a vast expanse of clear sky. Half the city remained under storm, while the other half enjoyed clear skies. At the converging edges, streaks of rain caught the light, turning golden as they fell across the sky, a truly beautiful sight.

Layered clouds obscured the view, but amid the occasional thunder, people on the city walls gazed upwards in awe, imagining the unprecedented and spectacular battle unfolding beyond the clouds. Even from a great distance, the occasional cry of a phoenix was enough to make hearts pound. To them, it was a war between gods, something found only in legends and fantastical tales, utterly unseen in the century since the founding of the Zhao Kingdom. Yet, now it was suddenly and vividly unfolding before their very eyes.

Time passed extremely slowly.

In front of the palace, Zhao Xianger's voluminous phoenix robe fluttered, resembling an unextinguishable fire. The Vermilion Bird Fire Rod in her hand glowed with golden light, its inscriptions flickering between bright and dim, elusive and unpredictable. The fire phoenix, guardian of the city, shared a spiritual connection with her. Thus, she could not only perceive the events in the clouds but also bore the backlash from the Vermilion Bird's injuries.

Gradually, her cheeks, delicate like lotus petals touched by autumn frost, slowly drained of color. Blood began to seep from her seven orifices, resembling errant cinnabar dots on a porcelain figure. However, the palace had long since been emptied of people by her orders. The vast, deserted square remained desolate, with no one to witness this scene. As thunder rumbled overhead, her already petite frame swayed slightly with each peal. A cool breeze persisted, rustling past her ears and lifting strands of her dark hair. What fell upon her was sometimes light, sometimes rain.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the clouds slowly began to close.

“Return,” the girl whispered softly, as if in a trance.

An almost imperceptible shadow of a fire phoenix descended from the clouds, returning to the Vermilion Bird Fire Rod. Zhao Xianger wiped the blood from her face and brushed back her wet, clinging hair. Her body swayed several times, and she nearly collapsed before she could walk unsteadily back into the hall.

The imperial palace array remained intact!

Meanwhile, in an alley within the imperial city, a dark figure crashed to the ground, cracking the green bricks beneath. A young child, who had been gazing at the sky from afar, was startled but, surprisingly, did not turn to flee. He watched wide-eyed as an old man, his body resembling charred wood, slowly rose from the ground. His form was riddled with countless wounds, and rain cascading over him still hissed with white steam. A woman, about to pick up her child, witnessed the scene. She covered her mouth, trembling with terror, yet somehow found the courage to scoop up the child, rush back inside, and violently slam the door shut. Then, mustering all her strength, she grabbed a cleaver and hid behind the door, her eyes fixed on the closed wooden door, drenched in a cold sweat.

But the old man paid them no heed. He dragged his shattered body slowly along the street. The blood within him had long evaporated, leaving only horrific wounds, the cut edges ghastly pale. He glanced back at the imperial palace, a lingering sense of resentment in his heart. He knew Zhao Xianger's injuries were far more severe than his own. However, he still lacked the means to breach the imperial palace quickly, and a growing concern nagged him that any delay could lead to unforeseen complications. In his current state, his strength was only equivalent to someone at around the fifth level of the Purple Court realm. If a cultivator at the peak of the Purple Court realm from an Immortal Sect were to intervene now, he would surely suffer irreparable damage to his cultivation. Yet, across the Southern Continent, individuals of such a realm were few and far between, and Zhao Xianger would have had no time to make such arrangements in advance. Still… he ultimately feared the slightest possibility of an unexpected turn.

He looked at the tightly shut doors lining the street, and an unnamed rage ignited within him. He wanted to kill.

The earth-shattering commotion emanating from the imperial palace spread throughout the entire imperial city. Even many commoners, who had hidden themselves in their homes out of fear, could not resist opening their windows and doors to gaze at the column of fire piercing straight into the clouds from a distance. From a distance, the column of fire appeared incredibly thin, like a solidified thread of magma, yet it possessed a breathtaking beauty.

Outside the Imperial Preceptor's Residence, news that Zhao Xianger had left the premises and infiltrated the imperial palace had already reached them. The powerful assassins from the Jin and Rong Kingdoms, realizing they had been fooled, were filled with indignation and longed to storm the imperial palace immediately. However, as soon as that pillar of fire ignited, and its biting, murderous aura swept across the vast city like wind-blades and frost, their intentions dissolved.

On a tall building outside the Imperial Preceptor's Residence stood a handsome young man, dressed in vibrant, colorful robes. Streams of colorful ribbons floated around him, resembling iridescent spirit-worms. He was the Rainbow-Robed Ghost, the Jin Kingdom's most formidable assassin. He was less an assassin and more a killer, for he never intentionally killed in the shadows. Instead, he favored the most striking, vibrant attire and heavy makeup, as if desiring all to notice him—this living specter who roamed the world taking lives.

From the shadows, a man wearing a saber emerged and asked, “What do we do now?”

The Rainbow-Robed Ghost's voice was thin, carrying an irritating tone. “What?” he asked. “Is the renowned Wild Goose Lake Swordsman afraid?”

The man with the saber sneered, “That's a battle between immortals, not something we can meddle with. What good is your renown, Rainbow-Robed Ghost? If that surge of energy from moments ago had been right before you, would you dare approach it?”

The Rainbow-Robed Ghost narrowed his eyes. “We are killers, assassins,” he said coldly. “We merely await an opportunity. When we encounter immortals who command the winds and rains, we simply bypass them. Or perhaps you wish to test if your swift blade can sever an immortal's head?”

The man with the saber said indifferently, “Among us, you are the least like an assassin. Perhaps it was you who startled the snake, alerting Zhao Xianger and allowing her to escape.”

Another woman, her face veiled, said coldly, “We, the dignified Ten Great Assassins of the Jin Kingdom, have been toyed with by a sixteen-year-old girl. How can we possibly show our faces back home?”

A similarly dressed man beside her said in a deep voice, “I keep feeling there's something amiss about this situation. Since entering the city, there have been too many strange people and occurrences. Waiting out here, we feel like headless flies... This Zhao City is far less simple than we imagined.”

The woman nodded gently. “I felt uneasy the moment we entered the city,” she said, “but I never imagined this small pond would be so deep.”

The man looked towards the other end of the street. “Qiu Li,” he said, “you are a Zhao native. Do you know any secrets? Now is not the time to conceal anything.”

A man in shamanic robes approached; it was Qiu Li, the Witch Lord's chief disciple. He looked at the group. “My master merely instructed me to proceed with the original plan,” he said. “Now, the Undying Forest is unreachable, Lord Bloodfeather has vanished, and my master is completely incommunicado. All these developments… are entirely unexpected.”

The woman sneered, “We truly shouldn't have trusted that old man. We believed that as the master of the nation's spiritual arts, he would be exceptional. But now it seems, all Zhao people are the same. They've opened their gates to the enemy with so few contingency plans. They deserve to see their nation fall.”

The young man in colorful robes listened to their conversation, then suddenly let out a sharp laugh from the rooftop.

The woman retorted furiously, “Do you truly believe our current opponent is still some naive young girl? Lord Bloodfeather has vanished, and the woman who unleashed that divine sword attack is also gone. Do you honestly think your title as the top assassin carries any weight? Outside this realm, it's utterly insignificant! Zhao Xianger, now commanding the imperial palace, could effortlessly crush you with a single finger.”

The Rainbow-Robed Ghost stood on the corner of the eaves, his vibrant ribbons fluttering conspicuously beside him. He made a throat-slitting gesture. “What can be done?” he said. “Should I cry with you all? Haha, even if Zhao Xianger were to cut off my head with a sword, I might still manage a laugh before my head hit the ground, just by gazing upon that exquisite little face.”

The other female assassin instinctively touched the ugly scar beneath her veil, her gaze turning even darker. Her hand went to her waist, wanting to test the true measure of the one ranked three places above her. But in the blink of an eye, her hand froze. Her pupils, fixed on the Rainbow-Robed Ghost, suddenly constricted, her face contorted in horror. Everyone sensed something was wrong and looked towards the corner of the eaves.

The Rainbow-Robed Ghost stood eerily still. A very thin line appeared on his neck, followed by a spray of blood. His body remained rigidly in place, but his head had already fallen through the air, his heavily made-up face still fixed in an exaggerated smile. Moments later, his body, deprived of support, crashed to the ground, scattering blood. The colorful ribbons, ripped apart by some unseen force, fluttered down like paper offerings, blanketing his corpse. The assassins who had been watching the Rainbow-Robed Ghost seemed to have gone deaf. After a prolonged moment of stunned silence, they slowly recovered, unable to believe that the Jin Kingdom's foremost assassin, who had just been laughing so brazenly, was now a cold corpse.

Who killed him?

And the Rainbow-Robed Ghost himself couldn't believe it. He still possessed three body-double talismans and a thousand-mile death-substitution talisman, all unused, yet his head had been severed.

At that moment, everyone looked up in unison.

At the exact corner of the eaves where the Rainbow-Robed Ghost had fallen, stood an old man whose form was barely distinguishable. The old man's body resembled withered wood, struck by divine lightning, scorched by raging fire, and riddled with countless arrows. It gave the illusion that a mere punch could shatter him into pieces.

“Ma… Master!” Qiu Li shrieked suddenly, unable to believe what he was seeing. He stared at the old man, who resembled neither human nor ghost, then immediately dropped to his knees, exclaiming, “Master, you're alive! This is wonderful! I have steadfastly guarded this place as you commanded, never leaving for a moment.”

“Oh? Are you calling me?” the old man chuckled softly, his figure landing directly in front of Qiu Li.

The old fox looked at the young man trembling on the ground, then suddenly reached up, twisted his own head, casually ripped it off, and threw it onto the ground. “This,” he declared, “is your true master.”

Qiu Li dared not look again, merely crying out, “Master, please do not jest with your disciple! Whatever you command, I will do, even if it means going through fire and water.”

The old fox kicked the Witch Lord's head on the ground. As he tore away his own severely damaged body, he sneered, “You are quite clever. The moment you saw me, you knew I wasn't your master, yet you still put on this act. What, not a single thought of avenging your master? Are you so afraid I will kill you?”

Qiu Li pressed his forehead to the ground, so terrified he held his breath, not daring to utter a sound.

The old fox sighed, regretting. “I had planned to rip open your heart and liver and drink a mouthful of your vital blood,” he said, “but unfortunately, I cannot indulge in such a craving right now. Ah… being so constrained is truly difficult to bear.” Earlier, when he had landed, merely crushing a few green bricks, he had still felt a painful backlash. The people of Zhao Kingdom, of course, could not be killed by him at this moment.

But the other individuals before him seemed to hail from elsewhere…

The old fox slowly turned his head, looking at the assassins in the rain-soaked street who now stood as if facing a great enemy. He smiled and inquired, “May I ask where you all hail from?”

After a moment of silence, they all scattered and fled.

The old fox was not in a hurry to give chase. He stomped on the Rainbow-Robed Ghost's head, cracking it, which seemed to improve his mood slightly. He chuckled to himself, “I wonder whose body would be suitable to inhabit next?”