Volume One, Chapter Twelve: The World's Greatest Xiao, My Destiny

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After the visitors left, Ye Fusang stood up and walked over to where the guards had fallen. It was beneath a pavilion, beside which hung several elegant porcelain bamboo paintings depicting water scenes—majestic mountains and flowing streams. The pavilion corridor featured ink-painted folding screens illustrating jade trees and crystal branches, along with the graceful figure of a beautiful woman.

Water was drawn from a small rockery pond behind the pavilion, flowing into the pond and stream beneath the pavilion before entering the lotus pond.

Alongside the pond and stream, wild roses grew densely, and scattered among the rose bushes were considerable amounts of wood ash.

Ning Zhen, seeing Ye Fusang approach and inspecting the bodies, noted there were no fatal wounds and frowned slightly. She then pulled open the clothing of one corpse and said, “Master, these people have needle punctures on their backs. Their clothes are damp but not soaked, suggesting they had fallen into water.”

Ye Fusang stepped forward for a closer look. “They were pierced at acupoints near the medulla oblongata and spinal cord…”

“There are many needle marks on their bodies,” Ning Zhen said, removing the clothes from all the bodies. Though the puncture points varied, they shared the commonality of being near the medulla oblongata and spinal cord.

Ye Fusang patted Ning Zhen’s shoulder. “Well done, Xiaoning. You’re much more meticulous than I am.”

Ning Zhen glanced at Ye Fusang with a stony expression. “Who told you to promise it in one day?”

Ye Fusang ruffled Ning Zhen’s hair; this girl was quite rebellious. “Hey… your master? My master?”

“I am,” Ning Zhen replied. “I’m your servant.”

“Don’t tell me you think you’re being funny?” Ye Fusang smiled. This girl really learned quickly.

“Wood ash…” Ye Fusang stepped forward and tapped on a jade bamboo panel.

Paralysis… wood ash. Where did they come from?

The Ye family’s backyard was mostly guest rooms, not quarters for women. At most, it was a rear garden with a few buildings for viewing pleasure. Now that the Flower-Picking Banquet was being prepared, how did these guards get from the Wenyue Villa all the way to the backyard?

Ye Fusang’s gaze fell to the end of the “High Mountains and Flowing Water” painting, which connected to the small pond and lotus pond. In the water was a three-tiered flight of steps, surrounded by plentiful lotus leaves, all intact—not as if someone had fallen in.

Only a few black spots were seen on the nearby lotus leaves. It was midsummer, the peak lotus season, so these spots weren’t withered but looked like dehydration scorch marks.

Ye Fusang crouched on the steps, the flowing water dampening her cloth clothes. Nothing unusual—the water flow was normal.

“This is fresh water,” Ning Zhen said, pointing to the jade bamboo water flowing from behind the pavilion.

Fresh water would wash things away.

“Wood ash, dehydration scorch…” Suddenly, Ye Fusang had an idea. She went to one of the bodies and pried open his eyelids. The eyeballs were bloodshot and swollen, exuding a rotten sour smell; the tissues were completely destroyed. “Just as I thought.”

Their medulla oblongata or spinal cord had been damaged by silver needles, and the strong exothermic reaction caused by sulfuric acid entering the water had nearly “cooked” their bodies, swelling them all over. The sulfuric acid’s corrosion forced them to crawl into the wood ash to neutralize the acid.

Hence the image of them rolling among thorns. Due to nerve damage, besides rolling, they could do nothing else. Compared to the pain from sulfuric acid corrosion and being “boiled,” the thorn pricks were insignificant.

It was indeed a vicious method of murder.

Since those men met their fate at the lotus pond, they must have come from there. Ye Fusang approached the steps and felt around, finding a raised lotus imprint.

The moment she pressed it, the stone steps suddenly shifted, revealing a small, half-human-height entrance inside.

Ning Zhen quickly came forward and pulled her back.

“Crackling!”

Sulfuric acid again. The instant it entered the water, white smoke rose and splashes flew.

“Ah! You scared me to death—almost got steamed myself.” Ye Fusang was pulled beside Ning Zhen, gently patting her chest. “Good thing you’re here, Xiaoning.”

“Why didn’t you dodge, Master?” Ning Zhen frowned slightly. Didn’t she already suspect sulfuric acid?

“Because I have you,” Ye Fusang winked.

“Boring.” Ning Zhen turned away expressionless. Ye Fusang really didn’t value her own life.

After the sulfuric acid drained away, Ye Fusang asked Ning Zhen to fetch a candle. Seeing the candle burn steadily at the entrance, she bent down and peered inside. “Ning Zhen, close this entrance from outside. Don’t let anyone discover this place. Get the forensic examiner to check those bodies.”

“What if you get trapped inside, Master?” Ning Zhen looked at Ye Fusang with concern.

“I won’t. If those guards could get in, then I can get out,” Ye Fusang said, taking the candle and stepping inside.

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Inside, the narrow tunnel, barely passable by stooping, gradually widened into intersecting passageways, with underground currents flowing below.

“Whoosh—whoosh—”

Just as Ye Fusang chose the middle path, a thread-thin wire at her knee snapped. The walls on both sides suddenly retracted, unleashing thousands of arrows shooting directly at her.

The whistling of arrows filled her ears as her body tilted backward, her internal energy flowing through every limb. Dust billowed beneath her boots, and within moments, she slid out three meters along the corridor and collapsed onto the ground.

“Cough… phoo…” Ye Fusang coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood upon landing.

She glanced at the bloodstain calmly, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. After three ancient eras, her internal energy, Beautiful Repulsion, was only about thirty percent effective now.

Looking up at her surroundings, she realized with a frown that this place was likely an ancient tomb, given the deadly traps.

Originally, the Ministry of Revenue’s Ye family had been praised for their honesty and could have settled near the emperor’s palace, yet they chose to build their home here in the suburbs amidst fields and gardens.

It turned out this was because of the ancient tomb.

Just as Ye Fusang was about to leave, the ground beneath her gave way.

Expecting her life to end, she was surprised that despite the height of the fall, she felt no pain.

“Hmm…” a calm yet gritted male voice came from below. “Do you think falling three meters, weighing ninety jin, and hitting the ground at 7.67 meters per second wouldn’t hurt?”

A lantern sat nearby, luckily not crushed. Ye Fusang looked down and found she had landed on a man.

He showed no anger; his face and light-blue robe were covered in dirt.

Ye Fusang awkwardly stood, supporting her waist, and pulled the man up. “Sorry, brother.”

“Pah.” The man spat dirt beside Ye Fusang.

She looked at the dirt-covered man. There was no internal energy radiating from him; she wondered how he got in here.

“Don’t be angry, brother. What’s your name? How did you get in?”

“I am Qiushang Ren,” he replied, wiping his sleeve. His calm eyes studied Ye Fusang. “I am the favored consort of the Princess’s mansion.”

“Oh… consort… wait, you’re the Princess’s favorite? How did you end up here?”

Of course, it was because of the ancient tomb, Ye Fusang thought but showed surprise.

“I’m telling you, it’s not because I’m idle,” Qiushang Ren said coolly.

“Then why?”

“To recognize your identity. Ye Consort, we are on the same side,” Qiushang Ren’s voice was steady.

“Wait… how do you know me?” Ye Fusang watched his shifting eyes and knew this was no ordinary man.

“Estimate. The Princess’s mansion has detailed information on you,” Qiushang Ren said calmly. “The main chamber is two hundred meters ahead. Those men entered via the small gate. That side has many traps; if they’re alive, they need at least fifteen minutes. We must arrive within half an hour.”

Ye Fusang curled her lips slightly. Was the Princess’s mansion some sort of intelligence agency?

As he spoke, Qiushang Ren grabbed her hand and sprinted forward.

“Wait, brother, can you really run like this in an ancient tomb?”

“Someone’s already gone ahead. No more traps here.”

Pulled along, Ye Fusang almost rushed straight to the main chamber before Qiushang Ren stopped.

Black flowers grew from cracks in the wall, cut down and strewn about. A man in red sat back on a pile of stones, repeatedly smashing himself with rocks, his gaze vacant. “One… two… three…”

Deadly mandrake—Ye Fusang frowned slightly. This was a frequent hazard in dangerous tombs. The man seemed knowledgeable, knowing to cut down the flowers, but freshly cut mandrake, if sniffed for more than fifteen minutes, still causes hallucinations.

Ye Fusang glanced at the calm Qiushang Ren, realizing no wonder he could arrive within half an hour.

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Qiushang Ren stared at the coffin pedestal in the main chamber and took two steps forward. Suddenly, the man in red sprang up, his cold, sharp phoenix-shaped eyes like the keenest blade, sword pointed straight at Qiushang Ren.

After arriving in half an hour, Ye Fusang now understood: Qiushang Ren was clever in mind but simple in action.

“Ah…” Ye Fusang suddenly fell, using Qiushang Ren as a human shield to hit the ground.

At that moment, the sword blade swung toward Ye Fusang. Her brow darkened—this man’s internal strength was formidable, his sword intent deadly. She picked up a stone from the ground and flicked it with her fingertips, striking the red-clad man’s forehead.

As expected, the man did not dodge and was knocked down instantly.

“Cough, cough…” Qiushang Ren crawled out from under Ye Fusang, recently pressed onto black mandrake, now nearing mastery. “So many numbers… This world has no physics… The ultimate weapon of the super-universal civilization’s dimensionality reduction attack is mathematical laws!”

“No… One Leaf Lotus, no physics, go get One Leaf…” Qiushang Ren muttered.

Hearing him, Ye Fusang rubbed her forehead, almost thinking this man was a science fiction fanatic who had crossed over.

But… One Leaf Lotus, Star Flower—Ye Fusang suddenly understood. In the past, the Five Great Hidden Clans all possessed legendary divine medicines; beyond other effects, their longevity alone could cause bloody upheavals. Coveting them, these clans suffered much harm from martial heroes and officials and had to hide their existence.

It seemed the Ye family was one of them.

Now that the five divine medicines had resurfaced, turmoil in both the martial world and court was inevitable again.

Chu Ye was poisoned with Fourteen Cold Frosts, likely testing toxins with these five miraculous medicines.

Ye Fusang pieced together the story and sighed—what misfortune to have returned now, suffering so much, and with a demon of death in tow.

Seeing Qiushang Ren babbling foolishly nearby, she gave up hope and walked forward to open the coffin. Several hidden weapons shot out instantly, but she dodged in time to find the coffin empty.

Someone had arrived first.

From afar came the sound of triggered traps. Ye Fusang hoisted Qiushang Ren onto her shoulder, glanced at the unconscious man in red, hesitated, then placed him on the other shoulder. Carrying both, she moved at a pace of ten meters per half an hour.

“Damn! One Leaf Lotus isn’t here!”

“Who took it?”

“Someone said Xiao Wogu entered, the world’s top martial artist. It must be him!”

“There are remnants of black mandrake here; go after him. If he’s poisoned, he won’t get far.”

Ye Fusang, exhausted, had to find a hiding spot in the tomb. Hearing voices ahead, she looked at the man in red and said, “World’s greatest… could it be you are Xiao Wogu?”

Few dared claim superior strength, but this man’s internal energy rivaled her peak Beautiful Repulsion. Unfortunately, his internal energy was now a chaotic mess.

Two groups had arrived at the main tomb, unwilling to leave despite circling repeatedly. When they finally left, Ye Fusang nearly fell asleep.

In the dark passage, Xiao Wogu suddenly opened his eyes. He gripped the dazed Qiushang Ren on his shoulder with precision. His voice was icy: “Who are you?”

Qiushang Ren was still unconscious, no response.

Ye Fusang shrank into a corner silently.

Xiao Wogu tightened his grip. “Speak.”

Still silence.

“Are you mute?”

“Cough, cough…” Qiushang Ren coughed twice, then fainted again.

Seeing the cold silence, Xiao Wogu grew angry, about to crush Qiushang Ren’s throat when another voice sounded nearby: “Who are you?”