Nightwatcher

# 352. Xu Qi'an's Scheme

As the fervour of the crowd reached its peak, Xu Qi’an suddenly lowered the scroll and commanded, “Everyone, escort the officials away. Do not interfere in the fight.”

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over their heads.

Chen Xiao protested anxiously, “Sir Xu, I am willing to fight alongside you, even at the cost of my life.”

The Imperial Guards growled in unison, “We are willing to fight alongside Sir Xu, even at the cost of our lives!”

*If you were equipped with cannons and ballistae, I wouldn’t mind you assisting me. But with just crossbows—mere pea shooters—how do you expect to contend with these behemoths?* Xu Qi’an’s face darkened as he barked, “That’s an order!”

The guards were both furious and confused, unable to fathom his reasoning.

Xu Qi’an, tense and alert against a sudden attack from the two fourth rank foes, saw Chen Xiao still refusing to comply. His anger surged, and he snarled, “If you stay, you’ll only die in vain. If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut you down myself!”

Chen Xiao finally understood. Sir Xu’s insistence on their retreat was to protect them—he didn’t want to watch his brothers die needlessly. Tears welled in his eyes as he bowed deeply. “Sir Xu, please… take care.”

“Sir Xu, your great kindness is beyond words. If… if I survive this crisis, I will repay this debt in full,” the High Court Justice said, bowing deeply to Xu Qi’an.

The two Censors also offered solemn bows. “Sir Xu, please take care.”

To hear such reverence from these unyielding civil officials was rare.

Chief Constable Chen cupped his hands silently, though the gratitude and respect in his eyes were no less profound. Behind him, the other constables also bowed with grave expressions.

“Leave!” Xu Qi’an growled, placing the scroll back in his mouth.

Tangshan-Jun and Zalmukha, the two fourth rank elites, did not stop them. Their cold gazes remained fixed on Xu Qi’an.

“His energy fluctuations are weak—not a fourth rank martial artist. But his Vajra Divine Art is formidable,” Tangshan-Jun observed, his serpentine body shifting as he assessed Xu Qi’an.

“The scroll he holds contains Confucian magic. His personal combat strength hasn’t reached fourth rank. Hmph, scrolls don’t last forever. Kill him,” Zalmukha sneered.

Tangshan-Jun’s abdomen swelled, pushing a "sphere" up to his throat before he unleashed it in a violent spray. The air filled with a foul, sticky rain, covering a radius of several dozen meters and leaving Xu Qi’an with no room to evade.

A radiant golden orb emerged, its light dispersing the fetid liquid without leaving a trace.

Thud, thud, thud…

Seizing the moment, Zalmukha charged with tremendous force, his towering figure aiming to snatch the scroll from Xu Qi’an’s mouth.

“Snap!”

Xu Qi’an snapped his fingers, igniting the paper he held between them along with a single black hair embedded within.

Zalmukha’s massive frame froze mid-charge, as if struck by an invisible cudgel, and he collapsed to his knees in agony.

The curse of death!

Xu Qi’an prepared to capitalise on the opportunity and finish the downed foe, but the sound of rushing wind warned him. Tangshan-Jun’s dragon head crashed down like a thunderclap, sending Xu Qi’an flying into the mountainside, where rocks cascaded around him.

Moments later, he emerged unscathed, tearing pages from the scroll and holding them in his hands as he coldly stared at the two fourth rank adversaries.

Apart from the magic scroll, his strongest attack was the One blade from heaven and earth, but with his current cultivation level, he couldn’t break through a fourth rank’s physical defenses. Using it would only leave him in a weakened state.

Thus, aside from the Vajra Divine Art’s defense, he relied on the Confucian magic scroll to restrain his enemies. However, as the foes had pointed out, the scroll’s power was finite.

And fourth rank martial artists and yaoguai were notorious for their endurance. Xu Qi’an had no illusions about defeating them with the scroll alone. Unless he used the Confucian Laws follow commandments ability—but the repercussions of that skill were severe. During the Conflict of Heaven and Man, enhancing his soul tenfold had nearly cost him his life. It was only thanks to Li Miaozhen’s soul-retrieval technique that he survived.

*Yang Yan, that crude martial artist, clearly wouldn’t possess such high brow abilities such as soul retrieval, getting him to dig the grave would be more appropriate…* Xu Qi’an grumbled internally.

Thus, the outcome of this battle didn’t hinge on whether he could kill the enemies—it depended on how quickly Yang Yan could finish his fight.

Glancing over, he saw the woman in the red dress holding her ground despite being outmatched. No matter how fiercely Yang Yan struck with his spear, she endured and continued to counterattack.

*Though fourth rank martial artists vary in strength, it would never be easy to win in an instant. This woman isn’t just seductive; she’s far more resilient than I expected…* Xu Qi’an thought wryly.

Keeping a calm facade, he spat out the scroll, held it in his hand, and waved it lightly. “The scroll’s magic may be limited, but it’s more than enough for the two of you.”

With that, he tore another page, burning it to ashes, which he then wiped onto his black-gold sabre.

In an instant, the sabre seemed to come alive, whistling through the air as it spiralled and darted toward Tangshan-Jun from various angles.

Daoist seventh rank Guiding Qi: daoists at this rank could manipulate magical weapons. The signature technique was the flying sword.

Tangshan-Jun’s massive frame was an advantage in strength, but it came with drawbacks. Apart from emitting shockwaves to repel the flying sabre, he lacked effective counters. The blade’s sharpness bit into his scales, causing stinging pain.

Meanwhile, Zalmukha hurled boulders at Xu Qi’an, who darted through the mountains to evade the barrage of meteoric stones. The destruction caused by Tangshan-Jun’s rampage only added to Zalmukha’s arsenal of makeshift projectiles.

“Boom!”

A boulder blocked Xu Qi’an’s path, and Tangshan-Jun blocked Xu Qi’an’s path, his massive dragon head looming as he roared, “Got you.”

His thousand-foot body shrank rapidly to only twenty feet long, coiling tightly around Xu Qi’an to immobilise him. With his limbs restrained, Tangshan-Jun lunged to tear at Xu Qi’an’s face, aiming to seize or destroy the scroll.

His jaws snapped shut on empty air.

Xu Qi’an’s figure had vanished, reappearing a hundred meters away. He raised his hand and blew the ashes from his palm.

The Arcanists’ teleportation array.

“Do you have everything?” the Lord of Tangshan roared.

A cooked duck had flown away, leaving him seething with rage, barely able to suppress the urge to wreak havoc.

*Too troublesome.*

The spellbook in that Silver Gong’s possession had spells far more numerous and varied than Tangshan-Jun and Zalmukha had imagined. A book like that was more precious than most magical artifacts.

Who was he to own such a treasure?

Since Xu Qi’an was a martial artist, the two hadn’t considered he might be a Confucian scholar and instead suspected he had another, hidden identity.

Suddenly, the woman in the red dress battling in the distance let out a sharp cry and broke away from Yang Yan, fleeing northward.

It was a signal to retreat.

Tangshan-Jun and Zalmukha reluctantly cast one last glance at Xu Qi’an before following the woman in red.

*Phew, finally gone…* Xu Qi’an exhaled deeply, a heavy weight lifted off his chest.

Any longer, and the “magic book” Dean Zhao Shou had given him would really have been completely depleted. Even so, he had already used up a quarter of it, an amount that left him breathless with heartache.

*Martial artists are truly troublesome. Unless the disparity in ranks is immense, there’s no way to quickly settle a fight… If I were fourth rank, I could become a unique kind of martial artist, one who only strikes once—either you die, or I do.*

As he mulled over this, he turned to Yang Yan and called out, “Boss, stick to the plan. You find the envoy, and I’ll rescue the princess consort.”

Yang Yan nodded, hesitated for a moment, and asked, “Will you be alright?”

Xu Qi’an grinned and said, “I haven’t even used the Confucians’ laws follow commandments yet. That was just a warm-up. Relax, Boss, don’t worry about me.”

“At my current level, if I want to escape, even Rank Four martial artists won’t be able to stop me.”

His Vajra body granted him a defence surpassing that of ordinary Rank Four martial artists.

After parting ways with Yang Yan, Xu Qi’an communicated with the monk Shenshu in his mind. “Master, remember not to destroy their souls when you kill.”

Shenshu’s gentle voice echoed in his head, “This monk understands.”

Since deciding to counterattack against the northern tribes last night, Xu Qi’an had been trying to awaken Shenshu without success. In frustration, he had shouted in his mind:

Shenshu, fuck your mother.

That had woken Shenshu instantly…

To Xu Qi’an’s suggestion, Shenshu had agreed without hesitation. The vital essence of Rank Four experts was a rare and valuable elixir for him. Opportunities like this were exceedingly rare.

In fact, Shenshu was more eager than Xu Qi’an. If Yang Yan hadn’t been present earlier, Tangshan-Jun and Zalmukha would already be desiccated corpses.

“There may be more than just three Rank Fours. They must have backup. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have allowed Chu Xianglong to escape just now.” Xu Qi’an spoke as he tore off a page containing the Qi-watching technique.

Observing Qi could sometimes also be used for tracking.

“For this monk, the more, the better.” Shenshu’s warm voice carried a hint of laughter.

…

Chu Xianglong sprinted through mountains and valleys, carrying the fake princess consort as he fled desperately.

He was a fifth rank martial artist: Transforming Force. Among the generals under the Zhenbei King, his strength was only mid-tier. But when it came to leading troops, his abilities were outstanding, and his battlefield experience was vast.

If he were handed a 50,000-strong army, the Zhenbei King would entrust it to him over any fourth rank in his retinue.

*I’ve taken the “princess consort” and escaped, so naturally I’ll be their primary target. Once they catch up, I’ll throw the woman off my back.*

When they reali*ze it’s a fake, at most one of them will continue chasing me, or they might not bother at all and regroup to intercept the others.*

*If it weren’t for that qi deviation, I could run even faster… I just hope Yang Yan can hold on longer. Xu Qi’an’s Vajra Body makes his defence comparable to a fourth rank. Killing him won’t be easy. With Yang Yan there as well, they should be able to last at least an hour.*

*If Xu Qi’an still has spells left in that Confucian book, he could delay them a bit longer. Heh, as if he’d have any left. It doesn’t matter. As long as they buy time, I can escape.*

*As for the envoy, they’re probably doomed. No matter. They’re insignificant nobodies. How can they compare to the princess consort—or my own life? Especially Xu Qi’an, always working against me. He deserves to die.*

As he ran, deep in thought, Chu Xianglong suddenly heard a sharp whistling sound.

His instincts as a martial artist kicked in. Without needing to think, his fifth rank reflexes allowed him to leap sideways mid-sprint, evading an aerial attack.

A bundle of white threads, resembling spider silk, landed where he had stood moments ago.

Chu Xianglong looked up, and his face changed drastically.

In the azure sky, a creature resembling a spider with wings hovered, its wings beating rhythmically.

Standing on the creature’s back was a man clad in tiger skin, his robust frame and rugged features marking him as a typical northerner. Unlike ordinary barbarians, however, a lone vertical eye adorned his forehead.

This was Tianlang, “Sky Wolf”, leader of the Jinmu Tribe, one of the twelve northern tribes.

The Jinmu Tribe specialized in aerial cavalry. Each adult tribesman raised a feathered spider, making them natural scouts.

In battles with the northern tribes, the Jinmu Tribe had always been the most vexing foe for the northern defenses. Everyone knew that below Rank Four, martial artists could not traverse the skies. Even at Rank Four, flight was limited in both duration and altitude.

But what truly made Chu Xianglong’s face darken wasn’t the presence of another Rank Four enemy. Instead, it was the feathered spider’s sharp fangs, from which dangled threads of silk, each thread binding a woman.

Among the captives was the real princess consort.

Chu Xianglong, who had believed himself the fisherman about to catch as the clams fight, now realized he was merely the mantis, with the oriole looming behind.[^1]

Tianlang unslung a powerful bow from his back, nocked an arrow, and drew it into a full crescent.

The bowstring thrummed, and the arrow shot forth like a streak of light. Chu Xianglong clenched his teeth and lifted the woman he carried as a human shield.

Thwack!

The arrow suddenly veered away, burying itself in the soil nearby, deliberately avoiding the princess consort.

Thrum! Thrum! Thrum!

The vertical-eyed Tianlang continuously loosed arrows from his bow. Some shot straight, while others curved mid-flight to strike at Chu Xianglong from all angles. However, as long as Chu Xianglong heartlessly used the princess consort as a shield, the arrows instinctively diverted.

Chu Xianglong sprinted madly forward, relying not on his sight but on the warrior’s innate instinct for danger to sense and evade the arrows.

The ground erupted into craters around him as arrows struck, flinging dirt into the air. Occasionally, an arrow pierced through his shield and struck his body, causing him to stagger slightly. But even so, anxiety flooded Chu Xianglong’s heart.

*Tianlang is a fourth-rank expert, and his arrows carry “intent”. My Bronze Skin and Iron Bones won’t hold up for more than ten arrows. If two arrows hit the same spot, my defence could be broken in just three shots…*

*What to do… What to do…*

The situation was spiralling out of control. The real princess consort was already captured, leaving him with no chance to escape. The enemy wouldn’t bother pursuing the scattered maids, focusing all their effort on eliminating him instead.

Suddenly, Chu Xianglong noticed a patch of forest ahead, its foliage covered in a strange, snow-like white frost. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t frost but dense spider silk. Though non-toxic, the silk was highly adhesive.

If he blindly rushed in, the strands would entangle him, rendering him sluggish.

_Tianlang drove me here on purpose. He’s already set the trap…_

Thoughts raced as Chu Xianglong looked to his left at the open plains and to his right at the mountainous terrain. Without hesitation, he chose the mountains, veering abruptly in that direction.

Abandoning his momentum, he darted toward the rocky slopes, aiming to lose himself among the rugged terrain and evade the aerial threat.

Just then, his martial instinct screamed danger. Without thinking, Chu Xianglong leaped sideways to evade a preemptive arrow shot.

_Ding…_ _Thwack…_

Two distinct sounds rang out. The first arrow struck his back and snapped, but the second followed instantly, landing in the exact same spot. This time, the arrow pierced through his back and into his heart.

“Urgh…”

Chu Xianglong didn’t die outright. A flicker of life remained.

Tianlang descended on his winged spider, landing beside the fallen Chu Xianglong. Gazing down at him, Tianlang said indifferently, “You’re very lucky. Those two arrows weren’t even meant for you—you ran straight into them yourself.”

“Don’t put so much faith in a warrior’s instinct. It can only sense malicious attacks, and only for an instant. If there’s a second attack within that instant, there’s no warning.”

“This… you planned all this…” Chu Xianglong stared at him, unwilling to accept his fate.

“Isn’t it a hunter’s duty to set traps?” Tianlang replied coldly, his tone devoid of gloat.

He hoisted the trembling “princess consort” over his shoulder, carried her back to the winged spider, and placed her alongside the other bound maids. Then he stood silently beside his mount, stroking its back as he waited.

After about fifteen minutes, the red-dressed woman, the giant Zalmukha, and the now human-form Lord of Tangshan arrived together, propelled through the air by their explosive Qi.

The trio landed not far away.

“You look battered. Three of you couldn’t kill Yang Yan?” Tianlang remarked with no change in his expression.

His gaze lingered on the red-dressed woman before shifting to their waists—Yang Yan’s head was not among their trophies.

“We had a mishap. There’s a tough one among the envoy,” Hongling said grimly.

“A tough one?” Tianlang frowned.

“Yang Yan stabbed me, and these two were held up,” Hongling spat.

Tianlang turned his questioning gaze to Tangshan-Jun and Zalmukha.

“A mere Silver Gong, not particularly strong, but he had the Buddhist Vajra Body technique protecting him. He seemed like a warrior monk,” Zalmukha explained.

“He carried a Confucian book containing spells from various systems. It was extraordinarily troublesome. Even working together, we couldn’t subdue him,” added Tangshan-Jun, his black robe and serpentine eyes exuding a cold detachment.

Tianlang nodded, dismissing the matter. He then turned to the veiled princess consort, saying, “This one’s fake. The real one should be among these maids.”

Hongling yanked off the imposter’s veil, revealing a delicate face pale with fear, her eyes brimming with terror as her shoulders trembled uncontrollably.

*“Thwip…”*

Hongling’s tongue darted out, forked and unnaturally long, licking the imposter’s cheek. Smiling sweetly, she cooed, “Tell me, who is the real princess consort?”

“I… I don’t know…” The imposter trembled violently, her face ashen. Stammering, she said, “I’m just a maid serving the princess consort. The real… the real princess consort isn’t here.”

Hongling sighed, disappointed. “I’m very disappointed with that answer. Maybe I’ll reward you with a kiss.”

She lowered her head, locking lips with the imposter in a passionate kiss. In full view of the three men, she kissed deeply, her forked tongue entangling the maid’s.

The imposter’s eyes widened in horror as her limbs convulsed violently, wracked with unimaginable pain. Her face quickly shriveled, her flesh dissolving until only a mummified corpse remained.

Hongling let out a satisfied sigh, her complexion glowing.

The maids, entangled in spider silk, turned ghostly pale. Some trembled uncontrollably as though in a seizure; others broke down into hysterical sobs, terrified that they might be next.

Among them, the real princess consort sat frozen. She stared blankly at her personal maid’s gruesome death, grief-stricken and despondent. Yet, in the depths of her heart, she felt an unexpected envy.

Because she knew what her eventual fate would be. If she fell into the hands of the barbarians, death would be a vain dream.

*No one can save me, no one can save me from these four northern experts, unless King Huai personally comes…* the princess consort thought, trembling.

What they had feared had come to pass. When she left the capital, she was full of worry; worry both of finally seeing the Zhenbei King, and also uncertainty about the road ahead.

Only when she saw that little Silver Gong on the decks, did she finally feel some sense of safety, feeling that at least the road ahead would be calm.

This was a very strange feeling. In essence, perhaps it was because this kid’s achievements were indeed impressive, giving her a sense of safety.

And then, when the worry that the official ship would be ambushed turned out true, her heart rose again to her throat.

That was why not long ago she had carefully tested Xu Qi’an, asking him if he would give up the consort.

His reply brought her great sorrow.

At this point, the princess no longer harboured any hope. In the Great Feng, there were only a handful of people capable of rescuing her single-handedly from four fourth rank martial artists. No, perhaps only the Zhenbei King could accomplish such a feat.

And he was far away in the North.

*From what I can hear, the emissary remains intact, they couldn’t get past Xu Qi’an. He… he actually forced back two fourth ranks…*Tears welled up in the princess's eyes, bringing her a sliver of solace.

“You know what, Deputy General Chu, why don’t you tell me—who is the princess consort?” Hongling flung the barely-breathing Chu Xianglong onto the ground in front of the maidservants.

Chu Xianglong swept his gaze across the gathered women and sneered, “Who told you the princess is here? She never even left the capital. You’ve fallen into a trap.”

The princess felt a pang of sorrow, like a fox mourning a hare’s death. Though she found the deputy general detestable, his loyalty to King Huai was undeniable.

Tangshan-Jun's voice was cold and sinister. “Then I’ll just eat them all.”

“Eat them, hurry up!”

Chu Xianglong, gasping for air, laughed mockingly.

The princess’s heart sank. Chu Xianglong wanted her dead—what King Huai couldn’t have, he’d rather see destroyed than let it fall into the hands of the northern barbarians.

“He’s lying.”

A voice rang out from the dense forest. The group turned their heads to see a young man in white stepping out, his hands clasped behind his back and a faint smile on his face.

“You’ve come at just the right time,” rumbled the giant Zalmukha. “Use your Qi-watching technique to tell us who the princess is.”

“I can’t see,” the man in white replied, shaking his head.

“A Qi-concealing artifact?” Tianlang mused.

“Think about it with your brains for once,” the white-robed arcanist scoffed, disdain flickering in his expression. “The princess consort is a woman of unparalleled beauty, far beyond these common women. She must be carrying an artefact to mask her Qi.”

The arcanist tilted his chin arrogantly, his tone condescending. “Now, use your not-so-clever minds again: strip them of their clothes and accessories, and you’ll know who the princess is.”

“Excellent idea!” Hongling chuckled, her laughter sweet and sharp. “You arcanists are always so insufferably proud, but I like this suggestion. Tut tut, I heard that the Princess consort is the number one beauty in the Great Feng—so dignified and elegant. I’d love to see her stripped bare. Let’s see how noble she looks then, and how she differs from us commoners.”

The princess bit her lips tightly, her eyes filled with despair.

Just then, a voice called out from a distance, replying to the crimson-robed woman’s provocation:

“Perhaps the difference is like that between diamonds and glass?”

*Who is it...* Hongling, Tianlang, and the others whipped around to see a young man wearing a mink hat and carrying a long blade standing amidst the grass dozens of feet away.

*When did he arrive?*

The moment the princess saw Xu Qi’an, her dark, watery eyes lit up like never before, as if holding starlight.

But in the next instant, her gaze shifted to worry and anxiety.

*What is he doing here? To throw his life away?*

“Oh, it’s you.”

Hongling scrutinized him with suspicion, her eyes darting around warily. With a sweet smile, she asked, “Where is Yang Yan? Where is he hiding? You two really aren’t afraid of death, coming here to deliver yourselves.”

“Who is he?” Tianlang frowned.

“The Silver Gong I just mentioned,” Tangshan-Jun answered icily, his vertical pupils glinting coldly. “His cultivation isn’t high, but he’s incredibly troublesome, relying on a Confucian scroll.”

The vertical-eyed Tianlang smirked. “A Confucian scroll is indeed a fine thing. In combat, it can be exceptionally useful.”

The giant Zalmukha nodded in agreement. He and Tangshan-Jun had firsthand experience with it, and their greed was evident.

Hongling raised her hand, three pale fingers extended, and licked her lips. She smiled sweetly, “Three breaths to deal with him. Don’t give him a chance to activate his techniques. Otherwise, even if we snatch the scroll, it won’t be enough to share.”

Tangshan-Jun sneered, “Whoever takes his head gets half the pages.”

Zalmukha, Tianlang, and Hongling slowly nodded. “Agreed.”

Tangshan-Jun added sinisterly, “I wonder if that scroll contains Daoist or Warlock techniques for raising ghosts. I’ll turn him into a vengeful spirit, carry him by my side, and torment him endlessly, denying him peace for eternity.”

This brat had thoroughly embarrassed him.

The four experts regarded Xu Qi’an like a prized but doomed prey.

“Don’t rush,” the white-robed arcanist interjected. “Let me check first for any tricks. To dare venture here alone, he must have some reliance. Perhaps this is only an avatar.”

With that, he activated his Qi-watching technique, observing Xu Qi’an.

Listening to the northern experts’ discussion, the princess’s heart clenched with fear. She screamed, “Xu Qi’an, you reckless fool! You damn scoundrel, get out of here now...”

Her voice was abruptly interrupted by a pained cry.

The white-robed arcanist clutched his eyes with both hands, blood seeping through his fingers.

The princess stared blankly at him, not understanding what had happened.

“Run... run away... take me with you...” the white-robed arcanist managed to choke out through gritted teeth.

Hongling, Tangshan-Jun, Tianlang, and Zalmukha’s expressions turned.

---

[^1]: So this involves two separate Chinese fables. One is “The river clams flight, and the fisherman wins” (Two parties in conflict letting a third party sweep in), the second one is “The mantis hunts the cicada, the oriole [a bird] looms behind” (Thinking only of the benefits and little of any consequences)

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