Love and Crown

It was still early summer, and the night breeze carried a biting chill. On my way back from the dining hall, I pondered whether I should check if the windows of the waterside pavilion were closed—it was near the water, where the wind would be even colder. Given Xiao Huan’s current condition, he probably couldn’t withstand it.

As I entered the courtyard, I unexpectedly ran into Xiao Huan and Su Qian in front of the pavilion.

Xiao Huan was still dressed in a plain blue robe, draped with a dark cloak. Against the night, his face looked even paler, his thin lips devoid of any color. Yet his attire suggested he was preparing to go out.

I blocked his path. "What are you doing?"

Xiao Huan frowned. "Do you have no sense of propriety?"

Me, lacking propriety? Just this morning, he could barely stand, and now he was venturing out into the cold night wind? Suppressing my anger, I forced a smile and clasped my fists. "This subordinate noticed the Pavilion Master seemed in a hurry and spoke too hastily. Might I ask where the Pavilion Master is heading? Does he not require this subordinate’s company?"

He frowned again, his voice icy. "No need."

I kept up the polite act. "This subordinate is the Pavilion Master’s disciple. If the Pavilion Master has business to attend to, shouldn’t he take this subordinate along to broaden my experience?"

His brow creased further, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. Behind him, Su Qian suddenly spoke softly, "Pavilion Master."

Without another word, Xiao Huan stepped around me and strode briskly toward the exit.

He and Su Qian brushed past me, moving in perfect sync. The chilly night wind swirled around my fingertips, leaving only emptiness.

"Pavilion Master," I called, chasing after him and grabbing his sleeve. Raising my head, I smiled again. "Pavilion Master, let me come with you. I won’t cause any trouble."

He halted and glanced back at me indifferently. As if pressed for time, he finally relented. "Come, then." With a light flick of his wrist, he shook off my grip.

I hurried after him, struggling to keep up as he moved swiftly toward the gate.

Horses were already prepared. Without delay, he mounted his steed, and I quickly leapt onto mine.

Under the night sky, Xuanwu Street was still bustling. Xiao Huan’s jet-black horse surged forward, cutting through the crowd, and I urged my horse to follow.

Our party numbered nine in total—aside from Xiao Huan, Su Qian, and me, there were six other Phoenix Come Pavilion disciples clad in black martial attire.

The clatter of hooves echoed through the streets of Jinling. In no time, we reached the eastern gate, which had long been closed for the night. Su Qian dismounted and spoke briefly with the guards, and soon the gate creaked open just enough for us to pass.

One by one, we slipped through the gap. By the torchlight at the gate, I studied Xiao Huan—his lips were pressed tightly together, his face so pale it was almost translucent. Yet his grip on the reins was steady and firm, his back ramrod straight.

Once outside the city, we pressed on without pause. The cold wind whipped against my skin as we rode. Before long, the horses plunged into a dense forest, where the drooping branches of five-needle pines occasionally lashed at my face. Not daring to slow down, I crouched low on my horse to avoid the pine needles.

We hadn’t gone far when a sharp sound suddenly pierced the darkness ahead. The horse to my left front collapsed instantly, its momentum flinging the rider forward. Fortunately, he reacted swiftly, twisting midair and kicking off a tree trunk beside the path.With a sharp crack, the sturdy pine tree split under his kick, its crown toppling over. The gang member, suspended mid-air, plummeted downward. Just then, a flash of gleaming blade light sliced through the darkness. Blood erupted from the man's body like a grotesquely large crimson flower, instantly filling the air with the metallic tang of gore.

My horse continued charging forward, and as fate would have it, I passed right by the falling corpse. A mist of blood sprayed across my face and hair.

Another flash of that icy blade light, and my steed's front legs buckled with a mournful whinny before collapsing sideways.

Learning from the earlier incident, I swiftly kicked off the horse's belly, using the momentum to leap toward the roadside.

The pursuing blade light flickered like a phantom, closing in relentlessly. Only then did I realize my fatal mistake—in my haste to follow Xiao Huan, I hadn't brought a single weapon.

The cold steel was already at my throat when instinct took over. Knowing evasion was futile, I met the attack head-on. Twisting my arm to deflect the strike, I caught the blade between my forearm and bicep. A sickening crunch—the assailant's arm bones shattered under my grip.

White-hot pain lanced through my arm as the blade bit deep. Seizing the advantage, I drove my elbow forward, wrenching the weapon from his grasp. The man staggered back, clutching his ruined arm with a curse.

I flipped the captured sword into proper grip and swung without hesitation. Before my blade could land, it met another with a resonant clang that nearly jarred the weapon from my numb fingers.

A second black-clad attacker pressed the assault, his blade scraping sparks along mine in a vicious upward flick. The impact sent fresh agony through my wounded arm—my fingers spasmed open, sending the sword clattering to the ground.

The assassin's follow-up slash came straight for my skull.

At the fatal moment, the descending blade split cleanly in two. A gentle, flowing light—soft as cloud yet unstoppable as a waterfall—parted the steel like silk before slipping effortlessly through the attacker's throat.

Blood sprayed as Xiao Huan pulled me behind him, his voice roughened: "Stay back."

He stood immobile, the serene glow of his shortsword weaving an impenetrable barrier. Within three feet of him, nothing living could approach—only the coldly beautiful arcs of his blade and the dark blossoms of blood blooming in the night.

The ambush's initial chaos had lasted mere moments before order was restored. Su Qian moved like a white-winged heron among the remaining attackers, her swordplay effortless. The five surviving disciples formed an airtight formation back-to-back—only one had fallen to the initial surprise attack.

Seeing their advantage lost, the remaining assassins soon retreated into the night.

Our losses: one man dead, three horses injured. With urgent business ahead, we remounted quickly—all but one disciple left to tend the dead.

My horse being unusable, I had to share a mount. Before Xiao Huan could speak, I blurted: "I won't ride with Hall Master Su."

A pause. Then Xiao Huan said simply: "Then with me."I immediately jumped onto his horse, having already forgotten about the wound on my arm. Smiling, I reached for the reins, only to jerk the injury and feel a sharp pain. I couldn’t help but let out a small cry.

“What’s wrong?” Xiao Huan asked lightly, reaching for my hand. When he touched the wet blood, his fingers paused.

I smiled. “Just a cut on the arm. It doesn’t hurt much. It’s nothing.”

Suddenly, light flared as Xiao Huan struck a match. He pulled my hand up, his voice abruptly tinged with anger. “This is nothing?”

I looked down and was startled myself. A gash over three inches long ran diagonally across my arm, the blood having long soaked the sleeve red. The flesh at the wound was slightly torn and still oozing blood.

A cool touch brushed my face—Xiao Huan had suddenly cupped my cheek. His fingers trembled slightly as he urgently wiped away the blood on my face.

Only then did I remember that I had been sprayed with blood earlier. I must have looked like a bloody mess, quite frightening.

I wasn’t sure if I should smile at him, but he had already stopped.

His hand still lingered on my face, his deep eyes flickering with turbulent emotions. Suddenly, he lowered his gaze, released me, and pressed his fingers against the Acupoints on my arm to stop the bleeding. He handed the match to my left hand, then pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve to bandage the wound.

His fingers were gentle, carefully avoiding the torn flesh, and his movements were swift. As he worked, he murmured, “Don’t move this arm recklessly. We’ll tend to it properly once we return.”

I nodded slightly, stealing a glance at his lowered eyes. His expression remained calm, revealing nothing.

Once the bandaging was done, he blew out the match. To prevent the horse’s jostling from aggravating my wound, he wrapped an arm around my waist, letting me lean against his shoulder before urging the horse forward.

His breath lightly brushed my neck, carrying that familiar, faintly herbal scent that lingered at the tip of my nose.

I straightened slightly, shielding myself from the night wind.

The rest of the journey went smoothly. I had thought that after the first ambush failed, our opponents would surely arrange a second or third attack. But there was none. The horse galloped swiftly along the main road, heading straight east.

The blood loss made me a little dizzy, and the monotonous ride gradually lulled me to rest against Xiao Huan’s shoulder, my eyes half-closed in drowsiness.

Just as I was drifting off, light suddenly flared ahead, accompanied by a clear, cheerful voice. “Mr. Bai, what an honor it is to have you grace us with your presence.”

I opened my eyes to see a middle-aged man in a scholar’s hat and light robes standing on a wooden bridge not far away, bowing courteously.

Behind him stood a row of lantern-bearing maidens, all with coiled hair and silk dresses, their delicate fragrance wafting through the night air.

Xiao Huan didn’t dismount, merely cupping his hands in greeting. “Thank you for your welcome, Manor Lord Wen.”

The man addressed as “Manor Lord Wen” smiled warmly. “Your presence alone brings glory to my humble Shui Manor. There’s still over a mile to the manor. Please, Mr. Bai and your companions, ride in the carriages.” With that, he stepped aside and gestured politely toward two tall, ornate carriages waiting at the other end of the bridge.

From his words, it seemed he wanted us to abandon our horses here and proceed by carriage.Through the sound of water, I could already tell there was a rushing river beneath the wooden bridge. This Manor Lord Wen was asking us to abandon our mounts. If anything unexpected happened later in their mountain manor, we might find it difficult to escape quickly.

Yet Xiao Huan merely smiled, dismounted, and crossed the bridge to board one of the carriages, while Manor Lord Wen took another carriage to accompany us.

No one spoke along the way. After traveling for some time, we finally stopped at the brightly lit entrance of a manor, where servants and maids stood in rows to welcome the guests.

Manor Lord Wen eagerly escorted us from the courtyard into the main hall.

The hall was illuminated by countless candles, bright as daylight. Among the rows of tall chairs arranged on either side, only the highest seat on the right was occupied—by a man in purple robes. He appeared to be in his thirties, dressed in an elegant golden-cloud-patterned purple robe, exuding a refined demeanor. Behind him stood a row of solemn black-clad figures, all masked with their hands clasped behind their backs, forming a protective arc around the man in purple.

As soon as we entered, the man in purple lifted his head, idly stroking the jade thumb ring on his finger. When his gaze fell upon Xiao Huan, his eyes flickered briefly with surprise.

Manor Lord Wen hurried forward and invited Xiao Huan to take a seat.

Once both parties were seated as host and guests, Su Qian stood beside Xiao Huan’s chair, while I and the other accompanying sect members lined up behind her.

"The esteemed guests' arrival has humbled all of us at Shushui Manor," Manor Lord Wen said politely, his refined face wearing a peculiar expression as he glanced between the man in purple and Xiao Huan. "Both of you are unparalleled heroes of the current Martial World. This truly puts me in a difficult position."

The man in purple chuckled coldly, his voice lazy yet elegant, laced with sharpness: "Now that everyone is here, Manor Lord need not beat around the bush. Please make your intentions clear without delay."

Manor Lord Wen’s troubled expression deepened. "Mr. Bai is the master of Phoenix Come Pavilion, and Mr. Xing is the master of Seven No Dock. How could I possibly provoke a dispute between the two of you? Ah, what is to be done?"

Impatience flashed across the man in purple’s face. "In any case, there is only one canal and one batch of goods, and Manor Lord can only entrust the shipment to one party. I have no time to waste here—make your decision clear!"

Though he said "Manor Lord, make your decision clear," his tone was unmistakably forceful.

It was said that Xing Liulan, the dock master of Seven No Dock, had a terrible temper—and it seemed the rumors were true.

Like the Twelve Linked Docks, Seven No Dock was a major canal transport faction along the Yangtze River. While the Twelve Linked Docks had a long history, Seven No Dock was a rising star, gaining prominence in recent years. Under Xing Liulan’s command were twenty-eight shadow-like assassins, whose reputation shook the Jianghuai region.

Individually, these twenty-eight were nothing extraordinary in terms of martial skill. But when they attacked together, they formed the Four Symbols Radiant Heaven Formation, a name that struck fear into the hearts of Martial World practitioners.

Three years ago, Yun Xuecan, the world’s top swordsman, arrogantly relying on his peerless skills, stormed into Seven No Dock’s headquarters alone and encountered this formation. In mere moments, the swordsman—who had made his name at fifteen and dominated the world by twenty-five—was reduced to a pile of bloody chunks under twenty-eight swift blades. Since then, no one along the Yangtze dared to challenge Seven No Dock head-on.

From the looks of it, Phoenix Come Pavilion and Seven No Dock were competing for the same shipment of goods. With such a narrow path between them, a fierce battle was inevitable.

Manor Lord Wen laughed awkwardly. "Mr. Xing speaks wisely, speaks wisely...""You don't have much time to waste here," Xiao Huan, who had remained silent since entering, finally spoke with chilling calmness. "Dead men have no time at all."

Xing Lulan's expression darkened slightly, the veins on his hand gripping the chairback bulging visibly. After several hesitations, he merely snorted coldly: "Mr. Bai speaks with quite the bold tone. This is merely a business matter—hardly worth mutual destruction."

His words carried steel beneath their surface politeness. Though threatening in implication, his underlying fear of Phoenix Come Pavilion's influence was evident as he tried desperately to avoid direct conflict with Xiao Huan.

Xiao Huan responded with a cold laugh. "Merely business? When your subordinates ambushed my Phoenix Come Pavilion branch—how shall we settle that account? And tonight's ambush outside Jinling City—how shall we settle that? Since you've gone to such lengths for this 'business,' Pavilion Master Xing, how could I not accompany you to the end?"

Xing Lulan finally rose from his seat, his face paling. "White Pavilion Master, what exactly do you want?"

"Simple," Xiao Huan replied coolly, though his tone remained icy. "For that ambush, you took nineteen of my people's lives. Repay them."

"Fine!" Xing Lulan agreed without hesitation. "To resolve this grievance with the White Pavilion Master, I'll immediately apprehend those who led the attack on your branch and deliver nineteen of their heads to you."

Xiao Huan ignored his words, slowly standing and taking two steps into the hall. His voice remained light: "And besides those nineteen lives... tonight I lost another disciple. For this life, I'll take Pavilion Master Xing's head in return."

Xing Lulan's eyes flickered before he suddenly laughed coldly. "Bai, don't push too far! Do you think I have no chance of winning?" As he laughed, shadowy figures emerged like ghosts throughout the hall, while the black-clad men behind him silently fanned out like a tightening net, filling every corner of the room in an instant.

"The Four Symbols Heaven's Radiance Array," Xiao Huan murmured slowly, the corner of his lips curling.

"Indeed, the Four Symbols Heaven's Radiance Array," Xing Lulan's voice carried a cruel, bloodthirsty edge. "You didn't expect I'd bring them all, did you? Bai Chi Fan, I know your swordsmanship is peerless under heaven, but within this god-slaying, buddha-destroying formation—leave your life here!"

With a cold laugh, he retreated several steps and gave a slight wave of his hand.

Xiao Huan remained with his head slightly bowed, his indifferent expression unchanged.

In that moment, the twenty-eight shadows in the hall suddenly moved. One shadow flashed like lightning, then a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand—countless shadows converged like storm clouds bearing down, chaotically striking toward Xiao Huan at the hall's center, threatening to engulf him completely in the blink of an eye.

Then the figure in blue moved—precisely at the moment when the darkness was at its thickest. As if having waited until the last possible instant, that seemingly delayed figure suddenly sprang into motion!

His movement defied description—light and shadow interweaving in an instant. A pure radiance pierced through the darkness like the blazing sun at dawn bursting over steep mountain cliffs from the depths of the sea, or like the faint smile of a silent flower-holding envoy before the Buddha in a moment of perfect clarity. The sword energy within that radiance burned with scorching intensity yet flowed with spring breeze softness, instantly filling every crevice of the hall.The scorching wind howled past my cheeks as droplets of blood floated within the formation. A hand still gripping a sword shot out from the array at an indescribable speed, smashing violently against the snow-white wall before spinning weakly and coming to rest beneath a chair.

Only then did the blood in the air burst forth, a brilliant and tragic crimson, like flowers blooming in the sky.

A mere instant after this bloody blossom erupted, demonic red flowers bloomed one after another. Within the hall, it was as if a garden of eerie blossoms had sprung to life—no, this was more akin to purgatory, a slaughtering deity that could only be witnessed in the depths of hell.

That unrestrained flash of steel pierced throats, severed limbs, cleaved open chests, and split skulls. The blade was smeared with thick blood and white brain matter, only to be flicked clean before plunging into the next body. The wielder’s eyes gleamed with cruelty as he allowed the gore to splatter across his pale cheeks, his blue robe now stained and tattered, fluttering amidst the corpses and severed limbs.

This was the first time I had seen Xiao Huan kill like this. Though I had traveled the Martial World with him, I had never witnessed such slaughter. In truth, he rarely killed—aside from the time he had beheaded Master with a single stroke, I couldn’t recall him taking another life.

Back then, he disliked using weapons, always holding back when crossing blades with others. The King Wind in his hand seldom left its sheath.

But now, he seemed to have emerged from a battlefield of demons, a faint sneer curling his lips, his gaze deep and still as an abyss—utterly indifferent, as though human lives were mere weeds.

Amidst the scattered limbs and corpses, Xiao Huan pressed the edge of his sword against Xing Liulan’s throat, his voice cold as water: "Manor Lord Xing, nineteen dead, nine with severed meridians. I said I would take nineteen lives—not counting yours."

A cold, unhindered flash of steel swept out, drawing a tragic arc of blood. Xing Liulan didn’t even have time to utter a word before his heavy body collapsed to the ground.

Xiao Huan turned, his gaze shifting to Manor Lord Wen. Even this old fox was now staring in horror at the hellscape before him, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

"Manor Lord, this deal will be with us, then," Xiao Huan spoke lightly, his tone as gentle and courteous as before—yet leaving no room for refusal.