Chapter 40: Meeting Sister Wen Again
Chu Qing lifted his head silently, listening to the sound of roof tiles clattering under hurried feet. After a moment, the sound faded into the distance.
He hesitated briefly but dismissed it.
There were too many people and too many matters in the martial world. Everyone was busy chasing their own affairs, and it wasn't uncommon for someone to be running through the streets even at midnight.
The City Lord's Mansion's curfew could restrain commoners, but not the martial experts who leapt freely over rooftops.
He had no reason to investigate every disturbance—unless it concerned him or promised a bounty, he preferred not to meddle in others' business.
With that thought, he closed his eyes again and resumed circulating the Purple Mist Clear-Void Sutra.
But after only an incense stick's time, the same footsteps returned—this time not alone.
From the rhythm, he could tell the first person, the one who had passed earlier, was now running desperately, seemingly fleeing for their life.
Their pursuer was faster and soon caught up—right above Chu Qing's roof.
The two began to fight atop his house.
Chu Qing sighed inwardly, gathering his inner energy back into his dantian before propping himself on one elbow and glancing upward.
The roof tiles cracked under heavy blows, dust falling from the ceiling—his patience wore thin.
"Can't they take this somewhere else?" he muttered under his breath.
A wary thought rose in his mind. What kind of coincidence was this? Someone first passes over his roof, then comes back to fight right on top of it?
Could it be the Mirror of Retribution's assassins had tracked him down, staging this as a ruse before launching a strike through the roof?
The possibility made him alert.
Soon, however, the fight shifted. One of the two was struck down, crashing into the courtyard below with a heavy thud.
Chu Qing's room was dark; he moved to the window and peered out quietly.
The fallen figure was dressed in black.
From his movements, Chu Qing could sense a familiar aura—one of his own kind.
"An assassin?" he murmured, narrowing his eyes.
Just then, the other fighter descended from the roof in pursuit.
Moonlight spilled over her figure, revealing a woman in azure robes, skin pale as snow.
Her brows arched like distant mountains, her beauty striking yet cold.
Her almond-shaped eyes carried no emotion, and her expression was indifferent, as though nothing in the world was worth her concern.
Chu Qing's head throbbed the moment he saw her.
Wasn't this Sister Wen?
What was she doing here?
Was the assassin trying to kill her?
If it were someone else, he might have gone out, thrown both uninvited guests off his roof, and been done with it.
But Sister Wen was… troublesome.
Back at the teahouse, she had seemed to notice something. Later, at the Chu residence, she had even handed him that broken bowl he once used—almost as if she knew the beggar from before and the Chu family servant were the same person.
At this point, even Chu Fan still had no idea that he was in Tianwu City.
If Sister Wen discovered that the man living here was him, and later brought Chu Fan over for a "visit," it would be disastrous.
No, absolutely not.
He had to move—tomorrow.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Sister Wen looked at the assassin and spoke in a calm, icy voice.
"You are… no, forget it."
Her calm voice grew faintly disinterested.
Then, with a flick of her finger, she struck straight toward the assassin's brow.
That single motion left not only the assassin but even Chu Qing slightly stunned.
Wasn't she about to ask him something?
And halfway through, she just gave up?
Did she realize the assassin would reveal nothing, or was there another reason entirely?
That finger strike was frighteningly sharp. Chu Qing recalled that among the Human Scroll of the Book of Boundless Change, there existed the Supreme Fist, Supreme Palm, and Supreme Leg—but no so-called Supreme Finger.
Yet judging by that move alone, its intricacy rivaled the highest martial arts of the Taiyi Sect.
The assassin, clearly under some unseen influence from Sister Wen, could not move at all. He could only shut his eyes and wait for death.
Just as his life was about to end, Chu Qing suddenly raised his head. When had another intruder appeared on the roof?
This new arrival's martial skill was even greater—his landing so light it surpassed both Sister Wen and the assassin.
Chu Qing only noticed him at that very instant.
At the same time, Sister Wen turned around, her finger tightening as she thrust forward.
With a metallic hum, a steel bead stopped just three inches from her fingertip, unable to advance an inch further.
In the same moment, her left hand swept backward. The assassin spat a mouthful of blood, his body flung violently away. Her palm strike had caved in his chest by more than an inch.
"So ruthless!"
The newcomer's cold voice came from above.
Sister Wen, while still holding back the steel bead, looked slightly puzzled. "It's you."
"Hm?" The masked man on the roof sounded startled. "You… know who I am?"
Sister Wen pressed her left hand over her right arm. The energy flowing through her fingers surged sharply.
With a loud crack, the steel bead shattered between the two forces.
Then she said, "I just returned the fan you dropped yesterday. How could I not know you?"
The masked man did not respond immediately but leapt down from the roof.
Only then did Chu Qing see that he too wore black robes and a mask.
He couldn't help feeling speechless.
How did Sister Wen recognize someone completely covered from head to toe?
"How did you know it was me?" The masked man clearly shared the same question.
But Chu Qing doubted she would ever share such a secret.
By now, he roughly understood what had happened.
Sister Wen must have found this masked man's fan somewhere.
Out of some odd sense of kindness, she returned it to him—just like when she had handed Chu Qing his broken bowl.
The masked man, afraid that she might expose his identity, had likely hired an assassin to silence her.
Unfortunately, the assassin lacked the skill to finish the job, forcing the man himself to appear.
Everything made sense—except one thing.
What exactly was Sister Wen's problem?
Was she born with some "holy constitution of picking things up"?
She found his broken bowl, found this man's fan, and could somehow identify the owner from it?
What kind of absurd ability was that?
Then Sister Wen said calmly, "I smelled it.
"The fan carried your scent. It was easy to tell."
The masked man froze in disbelief.
Chu Qing, however, suddenly understood.
"A police dog," he muttered.
(End of Chapter)
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