13: Chapter 13 Lu Wushuang Makes Her Debut

The tenth day of the month.

Yang Yuan rose early.

Shopkeeper Sun had asked him to go out of the city to gather medicinal herbs: mugwort, honeysuckle, and wild chrysanthemum.

Prices at the medicine shops in the city had risen, so gathering them in the suburbs himself would be more than half the price cheaper.

He agreed.

Taking a trip out of the city would also be a good opportunity to check the terrain and confirm whether Scarface from the Black Wind Fortress had truly left.

He gave Cheng Ying a few instructions, pocketed some silver, shouldered his bamboo basket, and left through the South City Gate.

Outside the city lay vast stretches of farmland and low hills.

The fields in July were shining with a vibrant green, and cicadas were screeching heart-rendingly from within the locust trees.

He walked for an hour until he reached a mountain hollow, then set down his bamboo basket, crouched, and began to gather herbs.

After gathering for about the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, he suddenly stopped.

The wind carried an unusual sound—the clashing of metal and shouts, emanating from a nearby forest.

He left his bamboo basket where it was, hunched over, and crept along the bushes.

Passing through a pine forest, his field of vision suddenly opened up.

On the riverbank, people were fighting.

To be precise, it was a one-sided pursuit.

The pursuer was a woman in yellow, around twenty-five or twenty-six years old, extremely beautiful, yet exuding a chilling, malevolent aura.

She wore an apricot-yellow Daoist robe and held a horsetail whisk in her hand, each swing carrying a sharp whistling sound through the air.

The one being pursued was a young girl.

She was seventeen or eighteen, wearing a pale green cloth dress, her hair disheveled, and her face stained with blood and mud.

She held a short sword in her right hand, while her left hand hung limply—a silver needle was embedded in her shoulder, blood streaming down her arm and dyeing half her sleeve red.

Yet she did not beg for mercy.

"Lu Wushuang, why struggle?" The woman in yellow's voice was icy. "Hand over the Jade Maiden Heart Sutra, and I can leave your corpse intact."

"Dream on!" The young girl spat out a mouthful of blood. "Li Mochou, you betrayed the sect; Master will never forgive you!"

A cruel smile appeared on Li Mochou's face.

She swung her whisk, coiled it around Lu Wushuang's short sword, and gave a violent tug!

The webbing between Lu Wushuang's thumb and index finger split, and the short sword flew from her hand.

She staggered backward until her back hit a willow tree, leaving her with nowhere to retreat.

Yang Yuan hid behind the bushes, his heart pounding like a drum.

Li Mochou was right before his eyes, her Killing Intent awe-inspiring.

Lu Wushuang was the "Junior Sister" of Cheng Ying mentioned in the secret letter.

Now, she was about to die.

Yang Yuan's hand pressed against the hilt of his blade.

He knew he should not interfere.

Li Mochou's strength was far above his; a second-rate fighter against a first-rate one, the gap was more than just one level.

He had a wife and a daughter; he had no right to throw his life away.

But his eyes could not move away from Lu Wushuang.

She leaned against the willow tree, covered in blood, yet she still stubbornly held her head high, staring fixedly at Li Mochou.

A scene flashed through his mind—little Xue Jian, wobbling toward him, calling out "Daddy."

If one day, his daughter were also hunted down like this...

He gripped the hilt tighter.

Li Mochou raised her whisk, aiming at Lu Wushuang's throat. "Last chance. Where is the Jade Maiden Heart Sutra?"

Lu Wushuang gritted her teeth.

"Then die."

The whisk descended.

At that same instant, Yang Yuan thrust both palms out, pushing hard against Li Mochou's back from across the bushes!

Yang Qi surged forth, transforming into a thick, formidable Internal Energy, unleashed through the air!

"Bang—"

The airflow exploded, and branches and leaves scattered everywhere.

Li Mochou's expression changed; she spun rapidly, using her whisk to defend, barely blocking the strike.

But the immense force sent her reeling back three steps, her feet carving two deep furrows into the riverbank.

"Who?!"

Yang Yuan stepped out from behind the bushes, fists clenched, Yang Qi rushing through his body.

"Who are you, Your Excellency?" Li Mochou stared at him, a flicker of wariness crossing her eyes. "Why interfere in my affairs?"

Yang Yuan did not answer.

His gaze passed over Li Mochou and landed on Lu Wushuang—she was still alive.

"She is my person," Yang Yuan said. "If you touch her, you touch me."

Li Mochou did not strike immediately.

She scrutinized Yang Yuan, her gaze sweeping over him. "Nine Yang Manual? No… it's only three parts similar, seven parts unlike. Who exactly are you?"

"You don't need to know who I am," Yang Yuan said coldly. "I am determined to protect this person today."

Li Mochou stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.

The smile was beautiful, and also very cold.

"Interesting." She retracted her whisk. "To think such a figure is hidden in the city of Jiaxing. Do you know who I am?"

"The Fairy of the Red Silk, Li Mochou. Famous indeed."

"Since you know who I am, you still dare to intervene?"

Yang Yuan did not speak.

He took a step forward, blocking Lu Wushuang.

The standoff lasted for a dozen breaths.

"You may leave," Yang Yuan said. "Or you may stay and fight me. The Cultivation Technique I practice is of the ultimate Yang and hardness, specifically countering poisonous and sinister methods. Your Red Silk Palm and Ice Soul Silver Needles may not necessarily work on me."

Li Mochou's eyes changed.

She looked at Yang Yuan, the emotions in her eyes shifting unpredictably—there was Killing Intent, curiosity, and also a hint of caution.

Noise came from the distance; the villagers had heard the fighting and were rushing over.

Li Mochou's expression shifted slightly.

She wasn't afraid of the villagers, but she was afraid of the matter becoming too big.

"Remember today." She turned, her apricot-yellow Daoist robe flapping in the wind. "You can protect her for a moment, but not for a lifetime."

She strode away, her figure like lightning, disappearing into the pine forest in the blink of an eye.

Yang Yuan turned around and looked at Lu Wushuang.

She was still leaning against the willow tree, the silver needle in her shoulder unremoved, blood pooling on the ground, her face frighteningly pale.

But her eyes were bright, staring fixedly at him.

"Who are you?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

"Not important." Yang Yuan crouched down. "Let's pull the needle out first."

He channeled his Internal Energy to coat his fingertips and pulled out the silver needle.

Lu Wushuang let out a muffled groan, cold sweat beading on her forehead.

Yang Yuan took out golden sore medicine from his robes, sprinkled it on the wound, and tore off a piece of his sleeve to bandage it for her.

"Can you walk?"

Lu Wushuang gritted her teeth and stood up, bracing herself against the tree trunk. "Yes."

"Come with me."

"Where to?"

"A safe place."

Lu Wushuang instinctively wanted to break free, but as her wound pained her, her body went limp.

"Why should I trust you?"

"You don't have to trust me," Yang Yuan said in a calm voice. "You only have two choices now—come with me, or stay here and wait for Li Mochou to return."

Lu Wushuang fell silent. "...Let's go."

When they were nearly at the South City Gate, Lu Wushuang suddenly spoke. "Do you know Cheng Ying?"

Yang Yuan's footsteps paused. "How do you know?"

"Li Mochou has been chasing me for three days, constantly asking for Cheng Ying's whereabouts." Lu Wushuang looked at him. "Are you one of Cheng Ying's people?"

Yang Yuan was silent for a moment. "She is my wife."

Lu Wushuang was stunned, staring at him, her eyes wide. "You are Cheng Ying's… husband?"

Yang Yuan did not explain and continued walking forward. "Let's go, she is waiting for you at home."

The courtyard gate opened.

Cheng Ying stood at the door and saw Yang Yuan supporting a girl covered in blood as they returned, her expression changing. "This is—"

"Lu Wushuang." Yang Yuan helped her into the courtyard.

Cheng Ying was dumbfounded.

She looked at Lu Wushuang, and Lu Wushuang looked at her.

The two stared at each other for a moment, and Lu Wushuang's lips moved. "I…"

Before she could finish, she could no longer hold on; her vision went black, and she collapsed into Yang Yuan's arms.

Cheng Ying rushed up to catch her and busily helped her into the room.

Yang Yuan stood in the courtyard, closed the gate, slid the bolt into place, and moved a stone to prop it up.

Twilight gathered, and the setting sun dyed the sky a blood-red.

A voice came from the wind, as cold as ice, carrying a hint of a smile—

"Very good. I would like to see how long you can protect her!"

Yang Yuan clenched his fists.

The real trouble had only just begun.

(Chapter 13 End)