Volume One: The Turmoil of Yan and Yun Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Greatest Hermit Hides Among the World (Part One)

As Feng Qi and Feng Muyun were deep in conversation, Steward Fei entered the room.

“It’s been confirmed—the core of the formation was tampered with. Gu Ci suddenly betrayed us and gravely wounded Yun Caixia.”

The great Sandstorm Formation of Yanbei was comprised of three parts.

First was the royal decree carried by the King of Yanbei at all times, which also served as the formation’s anchor.

Second was the main body of the formation, painstakingly carved by generations of masters and hidden beneath the streets and alleys of Yanyun.

Third was the formation’s core, located beneath the dungeon of the city lord’s manor.

Of these, the core was the most vulnerable to manipulation. Thus, the Feng family always kept two mid-level cultivators stationed there, and the smaller sandstorm formation within the manor never ceased its operation. For outsiders, infiltrating from within was nearly impossible.

Yet, someone had managed to meddle with it from the inside.

But if Gu Ci truly had betrayed them, he could have disabled the formation entirely for a short time. If so, the Shadow Guards wouldn’t have needed so many tricks.

“Gu Ci insists he hasn’t betrayed us—he only believes the Princess Consort is no longer fit to remain by the Prince’s side,” Steward Fei reported. “I examined Yun Caixia’s injuries. They’re severe, but not fatal, and she will not suffer any lasting harm.”

Feng Muyun frowned. “After all these years, he still can’t let it go?”

Steward Fei replied, “He is, after all, his own son. And back then, the Princess Consort was indeed rather resolute.”

“Resolute?” Feng Muyun retorted. “Should she have waited until Gu Li pressed a blade to my throat before acting?”

Steward Fei knew that the old wounds ran deeper for Feng Muyun than he let on, so he said no more.

After a moment of silence, Feng Muyun spoke. “Lock Gu Ci in the Sand Prison. No one is to approach him but me.”

Steward Fei nodded and slipped away into the endless night.

Feng Qi asked, “Was this the matter that happened in the fifteenth year of Yongli?”

“You were only four years old then,” Feng Muyun said.

“In my spare time, I sometimes read the local annals,” Feng Qi replied.

“To spare Elder Gu’s feelings, I once instructed the city lord’s manor to omit Gu Li’s name from the records until after Elder Gu’s passing,” Feng Muyun explained.

Feng Qi arched his brow. “Before the fifteenth year, Gu Li is mentioned frequently in the annals. After that, he vanishes without trace—no mention of death in battle, nor of illness. It all seems rather suspicious.”

“And then?” Feng Muyun prompted.

“Elder Gu Ci never liked my mother. I suppose Gu Li died at her hand?” Feng Qi mused.

Feng Muyun nodded. “That’s exactly what happened.”

Feng Qi looked into his father’s eyes. “I believe he deserved to die.”

Who deserved it?

Naturally, Gu Ci.

Feng Qi had thought his father would agree, but to his surprise, Feng Muyun said nothing.

“Does that mean my mother killed the wrong person?” Feng Qi asked.

Feng Muyun sighed. “The bond between Gu Ci and me was as yours is with Mo Ming. Most of your reckless acts are paid for by Mo Ming; in the same way, Gu Ci was the one who paid for mine.”

“If Uncle Mo had a son, I suppose we’d get along well,” Feng Qi said.

“Gu Li and I were the closest of friends,” Feng Muyun replied.

He rose, selected a book from the fifth shelf, and handed it to Feng Qi.

“All the records about this are here. Read them carefully when you return.”

Feng Qi took the book. “If Gu Ci controlled the formation’s core, then everything makes sense.”

Yang Wanli must have somehow persuaded both Gu Ci and the Shadow Guards: the former would moderate the formation’s power, the latter would abduct Yun Wanyan, pushing the King of Yanbei to the brink. Should the prince pursue beyond Yanyun, whatever lay in wait would bode him no good.

The question now was how Yang Wanli had learned who guarded the core, and by what means he had persuaded Gu Ci and the Shadow Guards.

Or rather, why had Yang Wanli chosen this moment to set his first piece on the board in Yanyun?

“To guess at a villain’s motives is rarely worth the trouble,” Feng Muyun said.

“If we don’t know his aims, we’ll always be at his mercy,” Feng Qi countered.

“The enemy hides in darkness while we stand in the light—there’s little we can do about that,” Feng Muyun replied.

Feng Qi thought for a moment. “Let’s await word from the Sage of Medicine and the others. Let’s hope for good news.”

...

Aside from the soldiers of Wanli Camp, few souls crossed the vast Gobi at night.

So deep in the night, there was neither candle nor lamp.

Beneath the dim stars and moon, three figures could be seen.

Or rather, four—one of them unconscious, slung over another’s waist.

“Your cultivation may not be high, but your speed is impressive. Shadow Sword Guard—did you learn nothing from the Sword School at Xueyun but how to run?” came an aged voice.

It was the Shadow Guard. The others must be Yun Wanyan, Qi Luozhu, and Ke Chenyi.

“You’ve used the Azure Dragon Emerges technique over two hundred times, forcing your way three thousand li out of Yanyun. I’m curious why you stopped here,” another voice rumbled, heavy as a smith’s hammer striking steel.

It was Qi Luozhu, the God of Craft. A lifetime spent forging had even tempered his voice with the ring of metal.

The Shadow Guard remained silent, wary of them both.

“Enough—hand over Yan’er and take your own life as atonement,” Ke Chenyi demanded.

“And if I refuse?” the Shadow Guard replied.

“You think you have the right to refuse?” Ke Chenyi’s voice was icy.

“Master Yang was right. Though you call yourself the Sage of Medicine, you’re anything but merciful—in fact, your thirst for blood is great,” the Shadow Guard suddenly laughed.

Qi Luozhu noted that he had called him Master Yang.

“When I was at Xueyun, he was my sword instructor,” the Shadow Guard said coolly.

Qi Luozhu’s frown deepened.

A wind stirred.

Clouds drifted slowly.

The moon and stars broke free of their shroud, fleeing pell-mell across the sky.

Even the swirling sands seemed to pale.

There was a fifth person present.

He sat atop a jagged stone, common in the Gobi, gazing up at the sky with evident interest.

Qi Luozhu snorted, extending his hand toward the stranger in a distant gesture.

A beam of white light pierced the heavens and earth.

Then came a sound like thunder—no, not thunder, but the clashing of metal in a forge.

Qi Luozhu was treating the earth itself as a furnace, and the stranger as the iron to be wrought!

Against such force, the man seemed as insignificant as a mayfly.

For Qi Luozhu was wielding the very power of heaven and earth—something only those who had united with the Dao could command.

The Sage of Medicine showed no reaction.

The Shadow Guard frowned, surprised by the power Qi Luozhu had revealed.

Though it seemed an eternity, the white light soon faded, and the dust slowly settled.

The stone where the stranger had sat was now ash, the surrounding ground a black pit—spiderwebbed with cracks radiating for miles.

So this is the power of unity with the Dao? the Shadow Guard wondered silently.

Could the man really be dead? he thought next.

Yang must have planned better than this, so there’s no need to worry, he concluded finally.

And so, he truly ceased to worry.

The power of the Dao was not easily discerned by outsiders, so neither the Sage of Medicine nor the Shadow Guard noticed the deepening intensity in Qi Luozhu’s gaze.

He alone saw a faint white glow within the darkness.

Soon, the others saw it too.

The light slowly rose, revealing the stranger’s figure.

Then his face.

All three in the sky were taken aback.

For it was not Yang Wanli.

He was far too young.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Feng Yue. I am in charge of this operation against Yanbei. And yes—Yang Wanli is my senior brother.”