56 - Crazy! Criticizing the Prime Minister for Being a Servant

Chapter 56: Bone Touching The night passed in peaceful tranquility. Dawn had already broken, and although Ning Songwu had developed a good habit of early rising at Hongfei Pavilion, she slept a little longer this time, but still not too late. At least, Ran Fanyin was not yet awake. She wasn't sure what happened after she fell asleep last night, but originally it was Ran Fanyin holding her. When she woke up, she found herself mysteriously holding Ran Fanyin instead. Perhaps her master, sleeping deeply, instinctively sought the warmth she provided, resulting in their current position. Ran Fanyin was like a touch of ice and snow atop a mountain peak; holding her close felt as if she might melt. Ning Songwu lightly nuzzled Ran Fanyin’s neck, inhaling the fragrant scent of plum blossoms. She hadn't felt this content and warm in a very long time. Ran Fanyin shifted her head slightly, her face resting against Ning Songwu’s cheek, her long, trembling eyelashes tickling Ning Songwu's skin, sending a delightful itch straight to her heart. With such a wonderful person, who wouldn't want to follow her for a lifetime? Ning Songwu’s love for her master grew stronger with time, making her happy yet also pained by the unattainability. The person she loved most was in her arms, yet did not belong to her. Ran Fanyin made a few soft murmurs as she slowly woke up. Unconsciously, she turned her head, her soft lips brushing lightly against Ning Songwu's cheek. She opened her eyes, frowning, and rubbed her eyes with a hand. “Master, good morning,” Ning Songwu said, holding Ran Fanyin with lingering affection, not wanting to let go ever. “Morning… morning…” Ran Fanyin responded, still groggy, squinting her eyes to look around, her expression a bit confused. Due to whatever happened last night, their positions had reversed, with Ning Songwu now sleeping on the inside and Ran Fanyin on the outside. “Master... should we get up?” Ning Songwu said softly. Ran Fanyin, not realizing she had slept on the outside, replied gently, “You can get up first...” Ning Songwu lifted herself slightly, looking around. She then carefully climbed over Ran Fanyin, which pressed her entire body against her master’s, the soft touch of her body an unexpected, intimate sensation, almost making her collapse onto the bed. As Ning Songwu blocked the morning light, Ran Fanyin fully opened her eyes, staring intently at Ning Songwu. The current position was incredibly intimate. Ning Songwu, pressed against Ran Fanyin, found herself locking eyes with her master's light brown gaze, momentarily forgetting her actions, frozen and unmoving atop Ran Fanyin. Time seemed to stop. Cheng Yuhuan hurriedly packed some simple belongings into a carriage, bringing only twenty disciples along. They had barely left the Sword Forge for two hours before Cheng Yuhuan and Ran Fanyin descended the mountain together. The carriage was pulled by two excellent Ferghana horses, which ran swiftly all night with great endurance, quickly traveling south, crossing the northern borders into the central plains. In just four days, Cheng Yuhuan's group was about to enter the pass. Cheng Yuhuan was busy arranging things, spending the whole day sending off letters via carrier pigeons. Ran Fanyin assisted where she could. Both were naturally reticent, talking only about sect or martial affairs on the journey, with no further conversation. Ran Fanyin's wounded wrist still troubled her with sporadic, sharp pains, and Cheng Yuhuan had prepared some pills to ease her suffering. Cheng Yuhuan suggested they rest the night at an inn after four arduous days and three nights. While he and Ran Fanyin could endure the carriage ride, the twenty disciples following them on horseback were exhausted, needing rest and provisions. At the dining table, Cheng Yuhuan and Ran Fanyin shared a table with some relatively sumptuous dishes served. Cheng Yuhuan finished quickly, while Ran Fanyin slowly chewed on her bowl of rice. Cheng Yuhuan, distractedly writing something, glanced at Ran Fanyin and said softly, “You haven’t rested well these past days. Take some tranquility pills tonight, or your wounds will heal slower.” “Yes, Senior Brother,” Ran Fanyin replied. “You're still the same after all these years, never speaking your mind. I’m your Senior Brother, you…” Cheng Yuhuan paused, then changed the subject, “Eat some dishes, don't just eat plain rice. There's no flavor in that.” Ran Fanyin put down her bowl and chopsticks, “Busy yourself, Senior Brother. I’m going out for a bit.” Cheng Yuhuan nodded, watching her step out and leave his sight before focusing back on the letter in hand. The inn in the Central Plains wasn't shabby, and the view differed greatly from the northern borders. It was autumn, and the back courtyard of the inn was full of red maple and yellow leaves, layered in beauty. Ran Fanyin walked to a tree and saw in a shady corner of the courtyard two people conversing, one fat and one thin. She intended to avoid them but halted when a few words carried by the wind reached her ears. “When will the chief let us return? We used to be the thirty-six hidden guards, now we’re wasting time here…” The fat one spoke with obvious resentment. The thin one tried to console him, “Who would've thought, the chief insists on searching for so many years. Does anyone know where that person is? You just got here, you’ll get used to it. Maybe the chief will give up soon.” “Impossible! The chief seems determined to search for a lifetime!” “What's this nonsense? Once we find them, it’s over. Though… it's absurd.” The fat one lowered his voice, “But… didn’t I hear that the chief’s family was killed off years ago? How can he now be looking for a young master?” “Right! Just randomly looking, probably thinking those grave robbers took them. Who knows where they’ve turned to ashes….” “Complaining is useless, let's keep searching… If we can't find them in a few more years, we’ll end up in the ground with them…” Ran Fanyin lost interest in their further conversation and walked away. These two had good martial skills. If not for her light breathing and keen ears, she wouldn’t have heard them. She pondered over their words but couldn’t determine which sect they belonged to. The martial world had many sects with “gate” in their names—the Tang family fortress in Sichuan, also known as the Tang Gate. The chief they referred to could be anyone. Many sects held grudges over the years, and many had been annihilated. A story of resurrection was indeed peculiar. It wasn’t her concern, so she regarded it as an interesting anecdote. Thinking of these things, Ran Fanyin unconsciously walked out of the inn. The sky darkened, and the streets lit up brightly. People gathered in the east, faces joyful, glowing with excitement. There seemed to be some festivity, and Ran Fanyin, rarely in the mood for bustling scenes, decided to follow. It turned out to be the Eastern Night Market, happening once every seven days, and Ran Fanyin stumbled upon it. Narrow streets crisscrossed with bustling vendors, each street different but similar, forming a lively maze filled with people. Lights illuminated the place like daylight, heads bobbing in the crowd, extraordinarily lively. Though Ran Fanyin preferred quietness, once inside, there was no easy exit, so she wandered around. The streets lined with stalls sold trinkets favored by women and children, from cosmetics to paintings to candy figurines. It was unfortunate that Ning Songwu wasn't there, as the market had many interesting things unavailable in the northern regions. Children would surely be delighted. Maybe when Ning Songwu grew older, she’d bring her here. Ran Fanyin stopped at a mask stall, her gaze drawn to a half-faced white jade mask. The jade was thin, glowing and cool to the touch, with intricate designs beautifully carved on it. She reached out to take the mask. Her cold fingers brushed against another’s warm, soft fingers. The contact made Ran Fanyin instinctively retract her hand. She looked up to see a young woman in green beside her. The woman, with brows and eyes like an ink painting, exuded a serene beauty. Her long hair, tied loosely at the ends, added to her charm. She appeared around sixteen or seventeen, yet carried an air of maturity and calm beyond her years. The atmosphere was awkwardly silent. Two stunning women stood facing each other in the bustling street—one in white, ethereal and otherworldly; the other serene and graceful, her features delicate. Their presence drew many curious glances. “Do you also like this? You can have it,” the woman in green said, her tone polite and respectful, her expression mature beyond her age. “Thank you, but I’m just looking. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Ran Fanyin nodded slightly, indicating her departure. She took just two steps. “Wait, please,” the green-dressed woman called. “What is it?” Ran Fanyin paused, her voice habitually cold. “I remember now. I’ve seen you before, seven years ago when I was much younger. You are… Ran Fanyin, aren’t you?” The green-dressed woman approached with a smile. Ran Fanyin scrutinized her again but could not recall her at all, “I don’t remember you.” “Oh… you don’t remember me? But you should have heard of me. My name is Lin Yuxue.” “The Young Mistress of Luanhua Valley,” Ran Fanyin raised an eyebrow slightly. She hadn’t expected to encounter someone from Luanhua Valley here. “Seven years have passed, and Ran Fanyin Venerable still looks the same, not aged at all. Seven years ago, I was about this tall.” Lin Yuxue made a rough measurement against her chest to indicate her then height. Ran Fanyin replied politely, “Yes.” “To encounter the Venerable of Beifa at the night market and… to fancy the same mask, what a coincidence.” Lin Yuxue looked at Ran Fanyin, her smile deepening. “Is the Young Mistress also headed to Luo City? Where are the others from Luanhua Valley?” “I am going to Luo City. The others have settled at the inn first. I had some time to wander around here. Did Beifa… truly send their Venerable personally?” “My senior brother is also here, currently settled at the inn,” Ran Fanyin replied. Lin Yuxue looked a bit surprised, “Two of you came?… Well… since we’re staying at the same place, why don’t we stroll around together and keep each other company?” “No, thank you. I’ll be heading back now. Enjoy your stroll, Young Mistress,” replied Ran Fanyin lightly. Lin Yuxue quickly added, “Hold on.” As she spoke, Lin Yuxue raised her right hand, and a petite bird suddenly flew out of her sleeve, circling her briefly before landing nimbly on Ran Fanyin's shoulder. Ran Fanyin turned to look and noticed it was actually a wooden bird. Its finely crafted wooden skeleton was exquisitely detailed, and its head and wings were lifelike. The flight it had just taken was almost indistinguishable from that of a real bird. She knew Luanhua Valley excelled in engineering and mechanisms but had never imagined they had reached such a level that their creations could be on par with living creatures. “Consider this our first meeting gift, a small token of goodwill.” Lin Yuxue cupped her hands in farewell, “Take care, Venerable.” The mechanisms made by Luanhua Valley were never just simple playthings. This little wooden bird must have various uses and, being carried personally by Lin Yuxue, was certainly not trivial. Ran Fanyin did not refuse it, accepted the gift, thanked Lin Yuxue, and then walked away, disappearing into the crowd with light and measured steps. Lin Yuxue watched Ran Fanyin leave, remaining still for a long while, fixated on the place where Ran Fanyin had disappeared. After a considerable amount of time, she slowly turned her head back toward the white jade mask. The lights from the night market cast a warm glow on the delicate white jade, making it appear even more special. Suddenly, a drop of fresh blood dripped onto Ran Fanyin’s pale cheek, the scalding warmth seeming to melt her cool skin. Ran Fanyin snapped back to reality, her body trembling. She quickly reached for a handkerchief on the nearby table and brought it over to cover Ning Songwu’s delicate nose. Ning Songwu’s face turned a bright red as she hurriedly pressed the handkerchief to her nose, hastily climbed off Ran Fanyin, and fled the room with her robe still unfastened. Heaven and earth! Why was she… having a nosebleed again… “Are you alright?” Ran Fanyin, disregarding the bloodstain on her own face, held onto her open robes as she hastily got up. “I’m fine… I’m fine…” Ning Songwu, holding her nose tightly, quickly donned her outer robe without bothering to tie it and fled Ran Fanyin’s sleeping quarters in a fluster. Ran Fanyin, still not fully comprehending the situation, touched her own face, looked at the blood on her fingers, and fell into a daze. Meanwhile, people continued their noisy chatter below the Sword Platform as Chong Shengcen and the Three Lords ascended and took their seats at the highest point. With a voice amplified by internal energy, Chong Shengcen declared, “Everyone—” The sound, like an ancient bell, reverberated through the ears of the crowd, instantly silencing them as many covered their ears and looked up at the highest point of the Sword Platform. As it was an official occasion, Ran Fanyin’s forehead was adorned with a vivid red flower mark, symbolizing her status, making her already exquisite and cold face appear even more striking. No matter the circumstance, her master always looked incredibly beautiful, mesmerizingly so. He Lan Mianmian, who had returned at some point, suddenly patted her on the shoulder, “Hey! Snap out of it!… The competition is about to start. You’ve still got the mind to stare at the Venerable in a daze. Don’t worry, she’s not going anywhere.” “What nonsense are you spouting?” Ning Songwu murmured as she touched the Fengyu Sword in her hand. “Look at you; your mind’s already floated up to the Sword Platform. Come on, let’s get going to your competition stand. I checked it out; it’s at least twenty feet high!” He Lan Mianmian nudged Ning Songwu through the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Coincidentally, Ning Songwu’s first opponent was her sect senior brother, Wen Jiang. Seeing the young woman standing gracefully across from him, Wen Jiang greeted her with a straightforward smile and cupped his hands, “Junior Sister Ning Songwu! Don’t go easy on your Senior Brother!” Ning Songwu drew the Fengyu Sword, her fingers lovingly caressing the golden phoenix totem on the blade as she laughed softly, “Senior Brother, don’t worry.” Wen Jiang glanced down at the crowd, their heads upturned, watching, while disciples resting on the surrounding platforms also turned their attention to them. Under so much scrutiny, he couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous, “Junior Sister Ning Songwu, we’re just sparring, but don’t knock your Senior Brother off the platform! I’m afraid of heights, and this high up, I’d be crippled with a fall.” “Don’t worry, Senior Brother,” Ning Songwu replied calmly. A disciple responsible for the event struck a gong in the middle and shouted, “The match officially begins!” before hurrying off the platform, worried about being caught in the middle of their fight. The platform was about the size of a single room, flat with no obstacles, and even lacked the protective railings one would expect, making it feel rather unsafe. Ning Songwu had a good grasp of Wen Jiang’s abilities. She estimated the match wouldn’t take more than ten exchanges to conclude. Wen Jiang initiated the first move, pressing off the ground and swinging his sword at Ning Songwu. She easily dodged the first strike, gracefully landing five steps away from him. Wen Jiang turned, swinging his heavy sword in a sweeping motion toward her. Wen Jiang’s weapon was a heavy sword, and theoretically, one should exploit the weapon’s weaknesses, winning with agility instead of brute force. But Ning Songwu tightened her grip on the Fengyu Sword, intending to meet the attack head-on. The crimson Fengyu Sword clashed fiercely with Wen Jiang’s heavy sword, the violent tremor causing their inner energy to collide. The impact nearly fractured Ning Songwu’s grip, but she steadied herself, scraping the heavy sword with her blade, sparks flying. Her long hair fluttered with the chaotic flow of energy, mingling at the tip of the crystalline red blade. Wen Jiang had not expected Ning Songwu to parry this strike, a smile of approval forming on his lips, but his hands were anything but gentle. After this move, he spun, channeling more inner energy into the falling heavy sword. Gritting her teeth, Ning Songwu realized that sparring with Wen Jiang wouldn’t involve any of the intricate sword techniques she had painstakingly practiced. It was purely a contest of strength. The seventy-kilogram heavy sword alone was overwhelming enough, and with Wen Jiang’s inner energy added, it was nearly unbearable. The Fengyu Sword in her hand seemed excited for the impending ordeal, resonating with the jade pendant around her neck. Both the sword and the jade started to heat up, amplifying her fighting spirit. Ning Songwu’s dark, jet-black eyes turned sharp, while the cinnabar mark on her forehead seemed to be bleeding. Her hair danced behind her, forming stunning patterns with her surging fighting spirit. Ning Songwu tightened her grip on the Fengyu Sword, gathering all her strength to confront Wen Jiang’s heavy sword. The moment their swords collided, the inner energy warped the air, producing a deafening roar. For some reason, Ran Fanyin’s face suddenly flashed in Ning Songwu’s mind. Those light brown eyes, like dewdrops. “Clang—” The sound of metal fracturing echoed through the air. Wen Jiang's forehead was drenched in sweat, his jaw dropping in astonishment as he stared at the broken remains of his heavy sword in disbelief, the giant blade cleanly severed, with the half sword-whorl flying off and embedding itself deep into the wooden platform. And Ning Songwu's Fengyu Sword, as thin as cicada wings, remained intact. The crowd below the platform erupted in noise. Wen Jiang exclaimed, “What the—! What kind of sword is that? This is impossible, impossible!” Only three moves, and his sword had been completely severed?! Ning Songwu exhaled a long breath, her left hand, gripping the sword too tightly, trembling uncontrollably. Seeing this, He Lan Mianmian leapt onto the platform, supporting Ning Songwu, “Are you alright?” Ning Songwu nodded, sheathing her sword. The sharp blade slid into the scabbard with a metallic sound, making anyone who heard it shiver involuntarily. The disciple with the gong approached the platform, striking it hard, “Ning Songwu versus Wen Jiang—Ning Songwu wins!” Disciples below the platform and martial artists from the jianghu expressed their admiration. The duel had been so swift, just within the blink of an eye, she had managed to shatter her opponent’s weapon. This new talent was truly worth watching. Sitting at the top, Ran Fanyin quietly observed Ning Songwu, her gaze unwavering.