Zhiyu and Chunying, both being Heaven-grade magical weapons, were exceptionally familiar with each other’s aura.
Whenever Ying Heng couldn’t locate Sang Dai, he only needed Chunying to sense the location of Zhiyu’s sword spirit. Following the sword spirit’s presence, he would invariably find Sang Dai. No matter where Sang Dai went, she always carried her sword.
Zhiyu informed her that Ying Heng’s sword was inside.
Inside the Ghost Market, within the Manxiang Pavilion.
Hua Ling was still smiling, leaning against the doorframe as she looked at Sang Dai. Her gaze burned intensely, as if she were certain Sang Dai would step inside.
The Ghost Market was silent and deserted. With just a sweep of her divine sense, Sang Dai realized that the vendors from the daytime were no longer present.
“Miss Sang, do you dare to come in?” Hua Ling asked with a smile.
Sang Dai replied calmly, “Since you know my name, you’ve been setting this up to lure me in from the very beginning. You knew I would recognize the fake Chunying Sword and used it to draw me here alone, forcing Wu Hanshu to leave.”
Hua Ling’s lips curled. “Miss Sang is indeed perceptive.”
Sang Dai asked, “Where are the people in the Ghost Market?”
“Why, they’ve all left, naturally.”
“And you, a mere Manxiang Pavilion, have such authority to clear out the entire Ghost Market?”
“That’s not something Miss Sang needs to worry about.”
Sang Dai nodded knowingly. “The one backing you must be someone extraordinary. Let me think. The Ghost Market spans across the Four Realms, and the identity of its ruler is unknown. There are rumors it’s a sect in the Youyun region. If you have the ability to make the entire Ghost Market step aside for you, it must have been an order from the ruler.”
The smile on Hua Ling’s lips faded slightly.
Sang Dai quietly observed her without speaking further.
Hua Ling quickly regained her composure. In the blink of an eye, she was once again wearing the facade of a smiling tiger.
“Miss Sang truly is perceptive. I set this up to lure you here, and here you are.”
“Who gave you the Chunying Sword?”
“If you dare to come in, I’ll naturally tell you.”
Hua Ling turned and walked inside. Sang Dai glanced at the sky; it was already a quarter past midnight. Su Xuan should have arrived at the City Lord’s Manor by now.
They couldn’t afford to waste time in Linglong Town any longer. In just a few days, it would be Su Xuan’s mating period, and they had to return to the Beast Realm before then.
Sang Dai withdrew her gaze and stepped up toward the Manxiang Pavilion.
Inside, the Manxiang Pavilion looked the same as it did during the day. Thousands of lanterns hung in the pavilion, brightly illuminating the space. It was the only source of light within the Ghost Market.
Sang Dai followed behind Hua Ling, taking in every detail of her dress. Her wide skirt was embroidered with numerous peony flowers.
Hua Ling led her to the main hall.
She stopped there, and Sang Dai stood silently behind her.
Hua Ling didn’t turn around.
The center of the entire Manxiang Pavilion was a grand hall, while the sides were surrounded by layered floors. From any level, one could lean over and see the happenings in the hall below. Standing in the hall, Sang Dai could also look up and see the individual lofts above.
Hua Ling suddenly spoke, “I have two Chunying Swords in my possession, one real and one fake.”
Sang Dai asked, “Were they both given to you by the same person?”
Hua Ling denied it, “No, the real sword was given to me by one person, and the fake by another.”
Sang Dai furrowed her brows slightly. Did this mean that there were two different groups of people plotting against her?
Hua Ling tilted her head up, seemingly looking at something. Her beaded hairpin hung behind her, and the tassels collided with a crisp sound that echoed in the empty, silent Manxiang Pavilion.
She continued, “I obtained the real Chunying Sword 122 years ago. He gave me this sword and told me to keep it safe, saying he would personally come to retrieve it. I’ve waited for him for over a hundred years, and he has yet to show up.”
One hundred and twenty-two years ago.
Sang Dai’s heart skipped a beat. One hundred and twenty-two years ago, she was precisely ten years old—the year Ying Heng defected.
“He told me that the sword would be temporarily entrusted to me, and if he survived, he would personally come back for it.”
Sang Dai’s breathing grew softer, her grip on the sword tightening with each passing moment. “Why did you agree to his request?”
Hua Ling continued, “Many years ago, my husband and I were merchants. While not extraordinarily wealthy, we lived far better than most. In the third year after we were married, a fiendish spirit fled into Linglong Town. At that time, our house happened to be in its path, and it barged in.”
“Out of the 130 people in the household, nearly all were killed. My husband protected me, hiding me in the ancestral shrine, and faced the fiendish spirit alone. Later, just as the fiend was about to kill my husband, he arrived.”
Both of them knew exactly who this “he” referred to.
Hua Ling said, “He saved my husband. I had never seen anyone wield a sword with such speed. That fiendish spirit, with Nascent Soul-level cultivation, was subdued in less than a quarter of an hour, and my husband’s life was spared.”
Sang Dai asked, “And then?”
“My husband and I were deeply grateful to him. I told him that if he ever needed my assistance in the future, my husband and I would do everything in our power to help. He just smiled and said nothing. We didn’t see him again for several years.”
“Until 122 years ago, he came to find me.” Hua Ling turned to look at Sang Dai, meeting her gaze. “In just a few years, he had changed so much. When I saw him again, he was covered in blood, a far cry from the gentle and kind person I had first met.”
Sang Dai’s breathing grew lighter and lighter. “He entrusted the Chunying Sword to you.”
“Yes.” Hua Ling nodded with a warm smile. “That day, it was raining heavily.”
A swordsman in white, drenched in blood, his black hair loosely draped over his shoulders, once gentle eyes now dull and lifeless, staggered as he walked, finally collapsing at Hua Ling’s doorstep.
Following the sound, she came out and was startled by the blood-covered figure at the door. She called for her husband, who brushed aside the man’s hair and recognized his face.
When he awoke, he left the Chunying Sword with her. At that time, the proud sword cultivator lowered his head and softly pleaded, “I would like to ask the two of you for a favor.”
Hua Ling, grateful for her benefactor, naturally agreed to his humble request without hesitation.
“I wish to leave the Chunying Sword here and ask the two of you to safeguard it. If I survive, I will personally come to retrieve it. If I do not return within ten years… you may destroy Chunying.”
Thus, the Chunying Sword was left behind.
In the blink of an eye, 122 years had passed.
Sang Dai asked hoarsely, “He never came. Why didn’t you destroy Chunying?”
Hua Ling’s gaze turned calm, and she spoke softly, “We once considered destroying Chunying, especially after learning he had destroyed the spiritual veins of Guixu.”
Sang Dai closed her eyes, her breathing seemingly becoming labored.
The Chunying Sword had been personally entrusted to Hua Ling by Ying Heng.
After defecting from the Sword Sect, Ying Heng was hunted down. Dragging his severely injured body, he arrived at Hua Ling’s home. Although he could have continued a bit further to reach Wu Hanshu’s residence, Ying Heng did not leave Chunying at the City Lord’s Manor. He knew that some were aware of his past friendship with Wu Hanshu, and the City Lord’s Manor would likely be searched. Wu Hanshu’s home was not safe.
The only place he could think of was Hua Ling’s home—a small merchant family that no one would suspect. No one would associate Hua Ling with him.
Hua Ling said, “When he entrusted the Chunying Sword to us, he told us we could destroy it if we wished. Three days after he left, news from the Immortal Alliance reached Linglong Town. Ying Heng Immortal Lord was accused of being the culprit who destroyed the spiritual veins of Guixu. My husband and I considered destroying Chunying.”
“…Why didn’t you?”
“Because we didn’t believe it.” Hua Ling shook her head and continued, “We didn’t believe that Ying Heng Immortal Lord was the one who destroyed the spiritual veins of Guixu and massacred the Cangwu Daoist Temple. I have been a merchant for many years and am skilled at reading people. He has a soft heart and would never commit such acts.”
“My husband and I debated for a long time. We were worried that keeping the sword would implicate us if it were discovered. Countless times, we thought about destroying Chunying.”
Before leaving, Ying Heng’s gaze was filled with guilt. He simply left them with the words, “If you wish to destroy this sword, you may.”
Only later did Hua Ling understand what those words meant.
If they destroyed Chunying for their own protection, Ying Heng would not blame them.
Recalling something, Hua Ling smiled and said, “Ying Heng Immortal Lord truly was a good person. My husband and I decided to move to the Ghost Market to do business. This place is chaotic and ideal for concealing one’s presence. I opened this Manxiang Pavilion and waited for him for ten years, but he still didn’t come.”
Sang Dai’s expression turned complicated. “…But you still didn’t destroy the sword.”
“I thought about it. The longer this sword stayed in my possession, the more uneasy I felt. Now, throughout the Four Realms, everyone is out to hunt Ying Heng. If news of Chunying appearing at the Manxiang Pavilion were to spread, my husband and I would face annihilation.”
“…Then why didn’t you destroy it?”
“My husband wouldn’t allow it.” Hua Ling smiled gently, her eyes soft as if thinking of her husband. “He said, ‘If someone entrusts you with a task, you must remain faithful to it.’ If not for Ying Heng Immortal Lord, my husband and I would have lost our lives long ago.”
“You waited for over a hundred years.”
“Yes, until recently, when someone came and gave me a fake Chunying Sword, asking me to use it to lure you here.”
Sang Dai pursed her lips. She could already guess who was behind it. “The one backing the Ghost Market?”
Hua Ling was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Miss Sang, do you know why we used the fake Chunying Sword to lure you here?”
Sang Dai lowered her head, staring at the smooth green bricks, her gaze gradually turning cold.
“I know,” Sang Dai’s voice was calm and devoid of emotion. “It’s to kill me.”
“You don’t ask why, knowing that you’re Ying Heng Immortal Lord’s disciple, we still want to kill you?”
“I know.” Sang Dai slightly raised her eyelids, meeting Hua Ling’s gaze. The overwhelming killing intent in the Manxiang Pavilion was something she naturally could sense. “Because you have no choice. You don’t want to kill me, but someone is forcing you to do so.”
As her words fell, the ground beneath her feet began to shake violently. A sense of weightlessness followed.
The seven-story-high Manxiang Pavilion rapidly sank. In the blink of an eye, the towering, resplendent building disappeared beneath the surface, vanishing entirely from the Ghost Market.
Sang Dai remained motionless, while Hua Ling continued to wear her composed smile.
When the deafening rumble subsided, silence enveloped the Manxiang Pavilion. Sang Dai turned to look outside the pavilion.
The wooden door blocked her view, but it couldn’t conceal the pervasive killing intent.
Sang Dai drew her Zhiyu Sword, her voice icy. “The Manxiang Pavilion is built on a teleportation array. If I’m not mistaken, we’re no longer in Linglong Town, are we?”
Hua Ling smiled. “Miss Sang is perceptive.”
Sang Dai asked, “My master’s Chunying Sword is in your hands. Do the people outside know that?”
Hua Ling shook her head. “Of course not. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have given me the fake Chunying Sword to lure you here.”
Sang Dai countered, “You’ve told me all these things. Now that they know Chunying is in your possession, aren’t you afraid they’ll turn against you?”
Hua Ling chuckled lightly, her voice ethereal and distant. “Miss Sang, sometimes when people are forced to a dead end, even small figures like us can summon great courage to do certain things.”
The tightly shut door of the Manxiang Pavilion was suddenly blasted open with a thunderous sound. Sang Dai narrowed her eyes, looking forward.
She saw a dense crowd of people, at least three to four thousand.
The entire Manxiang Pavilion had been relocated a hundred miles away. Sang Dai now stood amidst a vast wilderness, which was packed with people.
Sang Dai squinted slightly, taking a closer look at their clothing. “Youyun… the Shi Clan?”
She immediately understood where these people had come from.
The crowd parted, forming a narrow path. At the end of it stood a woman.
She wore a pink dress and had delicate, refined features. Despite it being only October, she was wrapped in a thick cotton robe, her complexion unusually pale.