Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Fifty-Eight: Murder on a Rainy Night (Part Five)

To Feng Qi, the name Feng Juanlang was not unfamiliar.

The old Prince had three sons: the eldest, Feng Muyun, inherited the title of Prince of Yanbei; the youngest, Feng Xisha, held the commander's tally of the Hanhai Battalion; and between these two was Feng Juanlang.

Few in Yanbei spoke of the Second Uncle. In Feng Qi's memory, he only heard his father and Third Uncle mention him when they met, their tone often tinged with sorrow and regret.

Feng Qi learned more about that name from the local chronicles, which recorded that the Feng family’s second lord was ambitious. As the Protector of Yanyun, he attempted several times to assassinate Feng Muyun, seeking to usurp the position of heir. Even after the new prince ascended, he organized the notorious Dark Moon Hundred League, hoping for a desperate struggle.

That assassination attempt engulfed the whole of Yanbei, and among those involved was Guli.

In the eighth year of Yongli, as the year’s end approached, barbarians frequently raided the borders. Feng Muyun went out to repel the invaders, and in March, he dealt them a crushing defeat at Wanghai Pass. On his return, his royal carriage was ambushed; he slew twelve waves of mysterious assailants, but was grievously wounded, hovering at death’s door, and lay unconscious for a full month.

During that month, Luo He followed scant clues to uncover several involved individuals. Yun Wanyan interrogated them personally in the main hall, sentencing six of those publicly known as Feng Muyun’s “trusted followers” to death. The uncle from the Kang family was dragged to the execution ground, cursing the “wretched traitor,” while the Gu family’s sole heir cried out, “I offer my loyal blood to the prince!” and took his own life in court. In her fury, Yun Wanyan was moved to thoughts of collective punishment, and all of Yanbei was gripped by terror, the second mutiny clearly inevitable.

Fortunately, Feng Muyun awoke at that moment. He was silent for half an hour, then spoke with Yun Wanyan for another half hour. Afterward, Yun Wanyan never mentioned collective punishment again.

Few witnessed Yun Wanyan’s change in attitude; more noticed only that Feng Muyun tacitly accepted the outcome.

Thus, Gu Ci believed Yun Wanyan unfit to remain in the Prince of Yanbei’s household. Since the eighth year of Yongli, thirteen of Yanbei’s Eighteen Riders had been gradually replaced.

To many old ministers, Yun Wanyan had begun to cloud Feng Muyun’s judgment. No matter how noble her status, how deep her bond with the prince, or how furious she was at his ambush—none of these justified her interference in Yanbei’s affairs.

How could a woman from the inner chambers be allowed to disrupt the state?

Perhaps for these reasons, Feng Juanlang survived Yun Wanyan’s blade—not for lack of her trying, but because when Luo He went to arrest him, he had already escaped Yanyun’s iron net. It seemed he owed much to others in this affair.

He fled for fourteen years, reappearing only today.

“I never promised the Bloodshed Pavilion anything, nor am I their man,” Feng Juanlang replied lazily, yawning, his tone laced with irony. “I did two things for them, and now they lump me in with their sordid lot?”

Chixia said nothing, simply fixing Feng Juanlang with a murderous stare.

“If looks could kill, surely you would have dismembered me a thousand times over by now.” Feng Juanlang stretched, his Overlord Spear rising two inches, its intent slicing through the rain-soaked air.

With a furious shout, Chixia struck forward with his blade.

A clap of thunder rolled overhead.

The intent of the spear fell like rain. Behind him, several screams rang out.

Chixia stared at him to the end, then slowly collapsed.

The legend of the Mad Blade was utterly extinguished.

Feng Juanlang chuckled lightly. “Now that’s how you kill.”

Dugu Zhe, watching the scene, thought that since this man bore the surname Feng, perhaps he would not be an enemy.

But before he could act, he sensed that spear intent redirect, plunging straight for his heart.

A vague white light rose in the rainy night.

From within the white light, a sword flash split away, instantly torn apart by the spear’s force.

Then, twenty-four sword gleams flew out in succession from the white glow, each one broken under the spear’s assault.

Though outmatched, it bought precious time.

The white light gradually solidified, revealing Feng Qi’s figure.

Blood stained the corner of his mouth; his face was as cold as frost.

He raised his sword and gave a low shout.

The long sword flew out, finally forcing back the spear’s intent.

Feng Qi coughed up more blood, quickly washed away by the torrential rain.

Applause sounded in the night, followed by Feng Juanlang’s voice, full of curiosity. “When I heard the rumors, I doubted them. But it really is the Sheathed Sword of No Life. Too bad your cultivation is too low, your strength too weak... Honestly, I can’t understand how you managed that technique with your vitality.”

Feng Qi turned to face Feng Juanlang and said, “There are many things in this world you cannot understand.”

Feng Juanlang made a sound of acknowledgment, his gaze interested.

Feng Qi took a deep breath, licking the dampness from his lips, his tone mocking. “For example, why did Grandfather pass the title of Prince of Yanbei to my father?”

Dugu Zhe thought, the tension is already at a breaking point—why provoke him further?

Feng Qi thought, you dare ambush me, uncle or no uncle, if I can’t best you, I’ll at least disgust you.

But they were all mistaken.

Feng Juanlang’s eyes grew even deeper, but he did not respond.

He showed neither anger nor any other emotion.

“It's been fourteen years since we parted. How is my elder brother?” Feng Juanlang suddenly asked. “Thinking back, when we were children, it was rather amusing when we caught baby sand eagles from Aunt Sha’s nest together.”

Was this nostalgia?

Feng Qi arched an eyebrow and smiled. “A rootless life is hard. Yanbei is beautiful these days; perhaps it will only get better. Don’t you wish to return home, Second Uncle?”

Feng Juanlang replied, “Sister-in-law has wanted to kill me for years. Now that she’s reached the stage of Drawing Radiance, wouldn’t I be walking to my death if I returned?”

He shook his head with a wry smile. “A wasted life, but I’d still like to live a few more years.”

Feng Qi said sincerely, “If you act here, Second Uncle, these coming years may not be so easy for you.”

Chixia and his ilk had long since put their lives on the line; appearing here, they never intended to return alive. Since Feng Juanlang was not that sort, he naturally would not strike here.

He looked at Feng Qi with interest, his eyes bright in the rain-soaked night.

“Hey, boy,” he said. “I can spare your life.”

Feng Qi frowned. “On one condition?”

“Naturally,” Feng Juanlang replied.

Feng Qi was silent, weighing his options. After a moment, he asked, “What do you want, Second Uncle?”

Feng Juanlang was not surprised by Feng Qi’s acquiescence. Not a single strong ally had come to Jizhou—none were coming now. With his strength, few in Jizhou could restrain him, especially on a rainy night in a deserted alley.

Feng Qi could well gamble with his life, though there was no need... but Dugu Zhe could not be wagered. That was not the way of a minister.

“I want you to renounce the grand path—become the next Prince of Yanbei.”

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