Three’s Company (1)
She was lying to her.
Xiao Lanle stared at Lin Qianshuang’s face, momentarily lost. An indescribable distance crept between them, and she tightened her grip on Qianshuang’s sleeve.
The cloth slipped upward, baring the soul-bound mark carved into her forearm.
Qianshuang hastily tugged the sleeve back down, but Lanle pulled it up again.
Lanle’s gaze stabbed like needles; her fingertips brushed the mark, tracing it as though to decode its origin.
“Senior sister… who left this?”
Xiao Lanle’s aura crushed in on her; eyes stormy, she seized Qianshuang’s wrist and said, voice thick with jealousy, “A life-death pact, Senior Sister. Who is worth such a vow? You hid it from me and pledged your life to her without a word.”
Lin Qianshuang pulled her hand free. “Junior Sister, this is my private affair; I don’t owe you an explanation.”
A sudden cramp clenched her heart. Qianshuang felt her strength drain; she looked down to see a wooden sword transfixing her abdomen. The spiritual energy that kept her ghost-body solid was pouring out in a steady stream.
Chen Shangqing had driven the blade in while chanting the demon-suppressing heart mantra, clearly resolved to scatter her soul. Each sword qi he released slashed and stabbed straight at her primordial spirit.
Qianshuang flared her ghost energy, flinging Xiao Lanle clear of the danger zone; she would not let Lanle be caught in the middle. The brother-sister bond between Lanle and Chen Shangqing still held; if she interfered, she would only hurt them both.
Rebirth, golden finger, past-life grievance, none of it mattered.
Anyone who wanted her dead, who tried to sabotage her mission and harm Junior Sister Xiao had to go.
Lin Qianshuang closed her fingers round the wooden blade still jutting from her belly, lifted a brow and said, “Junior Brother Chen, you really think that’s enough to kill me? You underestimate me.”
She flung the sword away, pressed a palm to the wound and whipped a coil of ghost qi backward. The smoky tendril snapped around Chen Shangqing’s neck; with her cultivation, crushing a Golden-Core cultivator took no more effort than crushing an ant. Ghost or not, she could pinpoint a man’s fatal point in a breath.
“Senior sister, spare him! Senior Brother Chen’s crime isn’t worth death!”
Xiao Lanle’s anxious cry reached her just as the ghost qi hesitated and clotted. In that instant of distraction, Chen tore free. Left and right hand flashed through the seals of the sect’s ancestral demon-slaying curse, then he slashed straight for her head.
“Senior sister!”
Xiao Lanle’s heart clenched in alarm; she reached to shove Lin Qianshuang aside, but a purple blur flashed in front of her first. A woman in layered veils, robes of costly violet silk pooling like dusk on the ground, true qi rolling off her in bright waves, skirts lifting as though drenched in moonlight. Sword held level, she made one effortless sweep and the flawless, deadly demon-slaying seal dissolved into nothing.
Mu Weiyin stood proud and solitary in the drifting mist. Turning, she faced Lin Qianshuang.
“A heart too soft cannot finish great things. Had I not acted, you would already be dead.”
Lin Qianshuang felt the reproach sting and answered, a little aggrieved, “Your subordinate is not soft-hearted. I stayed my hand only because the City Lord’s wife told me to keep Junior Brother Chen alive.”
Mu Weiyin’s brows drew together. “Listen well, Lin Qianshuang: your life belongs to this city lord. No one else may command you, no matter who they are.”
Lin Qianshuang kept silent. The words grated on her no matter how she heard them, yet she offered a meek nod, outwardly accepting Mu Weiyin’s claim.
“The last name on the list stands before you. Kill him and the task is finished.”
Mu Weiyin’s gaze settled on Xiao Lanle, who had paled but still stepped forward, and she added coolly, “Becoming Tower Lord of the Tianshu Intelligence Tower has always been your goal, has it not?”
Lin Qianshuang looked toward Chen Shangqing as he struggled to his feet; the instant Mu Weiyin had stretched out her hand she had severed every meridian and scattered his Golden-Core cultivation. The techniques once sealed within the Inheritance Bead dissipated, then re-condensed into a single pearl that now floated in the air.
Xiao Lanle caught the bead and clutched it anxiously. If Senior Brother Chen died here, how could she answer to Penglai Immortal Sect? And her senior sister would be expelled for slaying a fellow disciple.
“Senior Sister, whatever Senior Brother Chen did wrong, life or death should be decided by Penglai Sect. If you kill him now, the elders will never forgive you!”
Lin Qianshuang took the spirit sword Mu Weiyin pressed into her hand. Xiao Lanle stepped forward to stop her, only to be pulled aside in a blink, one hand steadying her shoulder.
“Lanle, look straight at me,” Mu Weiyin urged. “The one you care for doesn’t care for you. She values power and status more. Is such a woman worth your devotion?”
Lanle’s bright eyes hardened into a killing-cold glare. Her Plain Inquiry Sword quivered inside its scabbard, eager to obey her will and strike the proud figure beside them, but calm reflection quenched its edge; the blade hushed, exuding only a cold, obedient menace.
Chen Shangqing’s cultivation had been destroyed. When someone is down, a worthy opponent shows mercy. The city lord had annihilated his clan in his past life; reborn, he sought revenge, nothing wrong with that.
The real mistake lay with the male lead who clung to fame and with her, who had vowed to serve Mu Weiyin.
Xiao Lanle had no one she could rely on; Chen Shangqing, rigid as he was, would die for her without hesitation. If he lived, he could still be of some use to his junior sister.
Lin Qianshuang walked up to him and knelt. “Junior Brother Chen,” she murmured, “I can make the world believe you’re dead. Close your eyes, stop your breath, and I’ll let you walk away alive with Junior Sister Xiao.”
She drew her sword and drove it deep into his chest, missing the vital points, and whispered against his ear, “Protect Junior Sister Xiao. Live well, if you still dream of revenge.”
“You… love her. You love her dearly.”
Chen Shangqing stared at her, coughed up mouthfuls of blood, then turned his gaze to Xiao Lanle. His breath was thread-thin when he rasped, “Senior Sister Lin, only now do I see… you are the most pitiable of us all.”
“Pitiable?”
Lin Qianshuang gave a careless smile and said against her heart, “To me it’s only a game that fools others and fools myself.”
Chen Shangqing stared at the cold smile she forced into place; his clear, handsome face blanked for an instant.
She plainly cares, so why deny it deep inside?
Blood kept welling from the wound where the sword had left Chen Shangqing’s chest. Lin Qianshuang had sealed his acupoints and sent him into a deathlike sleep.
“Senior Brother Chen!”
Xiao Lanle shook off Mu Weiyin’s hand, hurried to the motionless man, and tested the breath at his nostrils. Then she turned to Lin Qianshuang in despair. “Senior Sister, you should have trusted me. If Chen Shangqing really dies, what will you do? The soul lamps of every great disciple are kept in the ancestral shrine; once they check the remnant image, they will track the killer straight to you.”
Lin Qianshuang gave a light laugh, stepped up to Mu Weiyin, and said, “The city lord promised me the tower-lord seat I want. Be a lowly Penglai disciple or a free, unfettered rogue cultivator? Anyone would pick the second.”
Xiao Lanle stared hard at her, the corner of her mouth curling in disdain. “Lin Qianshuang, you haven’t even the guts to own what’s between us, and now I see you’re vain on top of it. I once thought you so pure I held myself back for your sake. But you were filth in the demon realm, and now you’ve latched onto the lord of Tianshu City, my dao-partner, no less. Have you no shame, throwing yourself at her like this?”
The words cut like a blade; Qianshuang felt blood seep from the wound. She lost control and cracked a stinging slap across Lanle’s face.
The sharp clap left them both frozen for an instant.
Mu Weiyin’s half-raised hand quietly dropped back to her side.
Feigning contempt, Qianshuang looked Lanle up and down. “Junior Sister Xiao, everything you have comes from the city lord, what right have you to judge me?”
She looked at Xiao Lanle’s reddened eyes, so pitiful they reminded her of a little rabbit, yet she still swallowed her own ache and said, “Lady City Lord, not everyone can vault onto a branch and turn phoenix as easily as you did. One who retreats fifty paces laughs at the one who retreated a hundred. We are birds of the same feather.”
Lin Qianshuang turned away from Lanle’s face and bowed to Mu Weiyin. “City Lord, where is my demon body?”
Mu Weiyin handed her a yellow talisman. “I sent Du Shuang to place your original form in Yixiang Tower. Stick this charm to the devil seal on your forehead and your soul and body will reunite.”
Qianshuang took the talisman and quietly memorized the incantation, determined never again to be trapped in such a wretched bind.
[Congratulations, Host. Target individual Mu Weiyin favorability +30%. Open the favorability panel to view.]
So, Qianshuang realized, as long as the city lord believes a name on the list is dead, that death becomes real.
The same rule applied to both “Lin Qianshuang” on the death roll and “Chen Shangqing,” who was now faking his demise.
As expected of a talisman bestowed by the City Lord, the moment Qianshuang pressed it to her forehead her drifting body grew heavy. It felt as though she had been tossed from mid-air onto a pile of cotton; every bone melted into softness.
A brilliantly colored plume brushed the tip of her nose while she was still in darkness. The tickle made her sneeze, and the sneeze jarred her awake.
The quilt covering her was light and soft, woven from priceless velvet, and the bedchamber carried a faint, elegant fragrance that reached her the instant she opened her eyes.
Qianshuang sat up. Something weighted her legs. Looking down, she saw a woman in purple lying across the thin blanket. Silky black hair half-hid a delicate profile, and a thin halo of protective golden light shimmered around her.
Mu Weiyin always appeared before others veiled and in full regalia; this was the first time Qianshuang had seen her with hair loosely gathered by a plain golden-purple ribbon, utterly unadorned.
The City Lord lay across her legs; whether Mu Weiyin was dozing or meditating, Qianshuang could not tell. She held herself perfectly still, afraid that the slightest shift would disturb the woman and earn an unspoken black mark.
A thread of golden light slipped in through the window and darted into Mu Weiyin’s body. The missing petal of her soul-mark flared bright upon her forehead. The divided soul had returned.
“You’re back. Are you hurt anywhere?”
Supporting herself on one elbow, Mu Weiyin sat up a little, voice gentle with fatigue.
It was the first time a superior had ever worried aloud over her. Qianshuang, overwhelmed, answered at once, “I’m back, my body is fine. Thank you, City Lord, for bringing your subordinate home.”