On the reeds of the eastern bank of the Xiang River, Fang Jie cautiously emerged from the water and surveyed his surroundings. Only after confirming there was no danger did he wearily and disheveledly crawl ashore. Although Mu Xiaoyao possessed sensory abilities and Da Quan's nose could detect killing intent, ever since learning of the existence of assassins capable of suppressing all emotions, Fang Jie finally understood that his dependence on Mu Xiaoyao and Da Quan could lead to his unexplained death.
Lying on the grass ashore, Fang Jie gasped for breath, greedily inhaling the air like a demon who had just descended from hell.
While resting, a question suddenly occurred to him.
He realized his luck was incredibly bad. After arriving in this world, he was inexplicably caught in a chase, and fifteen years later, he still couldn't understand why those bald monks were so determined to kill him. Da Quan wouldn't speak, and neither would Mu Xiaoyao. Even if he considered himself a genius, he couldn't deduce anything from this utterly inexplicable situation. Those bald monks had been chasing him like mad dogs for over a decade, as if he harbored a deep-seated hatred, like he'd slept with every woman in the Buddhist sect in his past life.
Finally, he'd accumulated enough military merit in Fangu to gain entry into the Sui capital, the very place those bald monks feared most. But he'd become Emperor Xiaozong's scapegoat, constantly ambushed along the way. He'd only traveled halfway to the capital, and he didn't know if he'd even make it to the Martial Arts Academy.
However, Fang Jie had to admit that the Sui assassins were indeed more skilled than those bald monks. If the people who had been hunting him for the past fifteen years had been as stoic as the Sui's assassins, suppressing their emotions completely, he might have been killed before he was even born.
Therefore, Fang Jie deeply etched the name "Sui's Aimen" into his heart.
And he also remembered the name Hou Wenji.
He lay down for a while to regain some strength, then sat up and looked at Mu Xiaoyao and the big dog. And then… he was speechless at the scene he saw.
Mu Xiaoyao was soaking wet, standing under a weeping willow, shaking the water from her hair. Her red dress clung to her body, outlining her near-perfect figure to the fullest. The red dress was so form-fitting that it even faintly revealed her natural skin color. Her full, proudly erect breasts, her flat, toned stomach, her slender, beautiful waist, and her round, pert buttocks, and then her most eye-catching feature—her beautiful legs—were enough to make one's blood boil.
Perhaps for ease of movement, the red dress had a high slit. She stood gracefully by the tree, one of her white, beautiful legs peeking out from under the red dress, almost down to her thigh, which Fang Jie had seen in its entirety. These were the most beautiful legs Fang Jie had ever seen in both his past and present lives; truly, any more or less would have been perfect.
He had even had lewd thoughts: what if those legs were wrapped around his waist? Wouldn't that be an experience of pure ecstasy?
To be honest, it took Fang Jie a great deal of effort to pull his gaze away from Mu Xiaoyao. While Mu Xiaoyao's face wasn't exactly stunningly beautiful, and she was slightly less so than some of the women in the Red Sleeve Pavilion, her most lethal weapon was her figure. At this moment, the scene was absolutely enough to overwhelm any man with normal sexual function.
Like Fang Jie.
He looked at his already erect member beneath his wet clothes, shook his head in annoyance, and then forced himself to look at the large dog.
This distraction method was indeed effective; upon seeing the large dog, his burning desire quickly subsided.
The sleazy fellow in the leather robe lay on the ground, still holding the dying lamb in his hand. He wondered if the lamb had cultivated some kind of magic, as it was still alive after diving all the way. Fang Jie genuinely admired Big Dog's spirit of never letting go of a prized prize, much like he had always respected Grey Wolf in his past life.
Just then, Big Dog sat up and looked at Fang Jie earnestly, asking, "How about roast lamb today?"
Fang Jie wanted to laugh, but in the current situation, he felt he shouldn't.
Maple Forest Ferry was under the control of the Qing Yamen, so the Qing Yamen likely had already deployed men on this side of the river. If he hadn't thought of using reeds to swim across the river, he might have had to take a long detour to avoid the Qing Yamen's ambush.
"We can't light a fire... Who knows if those creatures with smells sharper than dogs will pounce on the light."
He stood up, shaking the water off his clothes, and said, "Let's find a place to nap. We'll keep going until dark. We can't meet up with Cui Lüshang and the other two in Guanle City. We might have to rely on each other for the next few thousand miles."
"It's alright if we can't."
Mu Xiaoyao smoothed her hair behind her ears and said calmly, "From the beginning, I didn't think your two new friends would be of any help to you."
Fang Jie smiled but didn't answer, only shaking his head and sighing, "From now on, we'll have to walk on our own two feet. There are still thousands of miles to go... By the time we reach the capital, won't my legs be even more beautiful than Xiaoyao's?"
"Which way?"
Daquan asked. "If we're going to take the official road, we'll have to figure out how to disguise ourselves."
Fang Jie frowned, about to speak, when Mu Xiaoyao lowered her voice and said, "Quiet, there are quite a few people coming from the southeast, including some experts!"
Da Quan sniffed and shook his head: "No murderous intent."
…
…
While Fang Jie and his companions were desperately dodging the assassins, far, far away on an official road leading from Jiangnan to the capital, three magnificent and distinguished carriages, escorted by over a hundred attendants, were traveling northwest.
These three carriages were painted bright red, adorned with strange lines and patterns. They were pulled by two strong, slow horses, moving at a steady pace. The most striking feature of each carriage was the apricot-yellow flag on each side of the carriage, depicting a mountain and a temple.
Accompanying the three carriages were a team of at least one hundred people. What was most astonishing was that these people, clearly not imperial soldiers, were each riding a tall, magnificent horse. For the Sui Dynasty, where warhorses were extremely scarce, this was practically unimaginable.
Warhorses were strictly controlled in the Sui Dynasty; even wealthy families strictly limited the number of warhorses they could own according to their social standing.
The Sui Dynasty also raised horses, but it had never been able to breed warhorses comparable to those of the steppe cavalry. In terms of endurance, speed, and carrying capacity, the warhorses bred in the Sui's several horse farms couldn't compare to the fine steeds of the steppe. This was the Sui emperor's greatest frustration; his empire was vast and expansive, yet he simply couldn't breed superior warhorses. Because of this, the emperor even sent people to infiltrate the Mongol Yuan Dynasty to bring back some pasture, hoping to see if the difference in feed caused the difference in the horses' physique. As it turned out, he had worried too much.
Therefore, this group of over a hundred people stood out conspicuously.
Those hundred people riding horses were all Taoist priests dressed in dark blue robes. Their hair was styled in a bun, adorned with wooden hairpins, and their Taoist robes were embroidered with the Bagua (Eight Trigrams). Each of them was tall and slender, with solemn faces. Long swords were strapped to their backs, their hilts adorned with red tassels, giving the procession a unique air of authority amidst its imposing presence.
In the Sui Dynasty, only one Taoist temple was permitted to use an apricot-yellow flag.
Only one Taoist temple could be equipped with three hundred fine warhorses.
And only the abbot of that one Taoist temple was entitled to travel in a magnificent, bright red carriage.
These Taoists came from the Yi Qi Temple on Qing Le Mountain.
In the first carriage sat Feng Ming, the Taoist priest responsible for supervising the disciples' cultivation on the back mountain of the Yi Qi Temple. He was the second disciple of Xiao Zhenren, the abbot of the Yi Qi Temple, and was naturally aloof and taciturn. Within the Yi Qi Temple, he was secretly called the "Cold-Faced Yama" by the disciples. He and Xiao Zhenren's eldest disciple, He Li, had a clear division of labor: he was solely responsible for the disciples' cultivation and remained detached from worldly affairs. The humble and tactful Crane Cry Taoist was in charge of most of the temple's affairs.
The Phoenix Cry Taoist rode alone in a carriage, which was filled with gifts intended as a present to His Majesty the Emperor on this trip to the capital. These included a complete set of Master Xiao's handwritten copy of *The Daoist Ancestor's Sayings*, and freshly picked tea from the tea garden behind the Yiqi Temple. It should be noted that Qinglujian tea from Qingle Mountain was even more precious than the Nine-Grade Lotus Heart, priceless and hard to come by.
In the second carriage sat Master Xiao, who always appeared solemn and virtuous to outsiders. He wore a dark black Taoist robe, holding a whisk, and sat cross-legged. He too rode alone in a carriage, which was empty of gifts, making the room seem somewhat spacious.
Master Xiao, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly opened his eyes, his expression changing slightly as if he had sensed something amiss. After a moment's hesitation, he couldn't help but instruct those outside the carriage, "I just had a fleeting glimpse of the Heavenly Dao and need to meditate on it. I will be in seclusion in this carriage, and no one is to disturb me until I emerge!"
"Yes!"
The accompanying Daoists outside the carriage responded in unison, their faces filled with respect for their Abbot. They all inwardly marveled at how worthy their Abbot was of being the leader of the Daoist sect. Even while traveling alone in the carriage, he could comprehend the Heavenly Dao—a feat unmatched in the world.
They were proud to be disciples of the One Qi Sect, and proud to have such an Abbot.
Upon hearing the Daoists' reply, Master Xiao's expression softened. He casually tossed aside his whisk, then hurriedly removed both his boots and socks. Looking at his feet, he slowly raised his right index finger and stared at it for a moment.
The next second, he inserted his index finger into the spaces between his toes and rubbed it back and forth. While rubbing, he couldn't help but let out extremely soft moans, his face filled with ecstasy—truly a state of blissful ecstasy.
Twenty minutes later, he put on his socks and boots, resumed his composed posture, cleared his throat, and said, "I have emerged from seclusion and gained another wisp of heavenly power."
The crowd was immediately filled with admiration.
...
...
In the third carriage sat two women, not sitting side by side, but opposite each other. One of them wore the blue robe of a beginner disciple of the One Qi Temple, her long hair styled in a nun's updo, tied on top of her head and flowing down her back. Her face was exquisitely beautiful; her eyes were closed, her long eyelashes slightly curved upwards. A small nose, rosy lips. Her face was perfectly shaped, as smooth as jade. Even if one stared at her face for a whole day, one could not find a single flaw. Moreover... the more closely one looked, the more breathtakingly beautiful she became.
She sat there with her eyes closed, as quiet as a black lotus.
The woman sitting opposite her was also beautiful, but compared to the woman dressed as a Taoist nun, she possessed a more spirited and dashing air, lacking some of the delicate beauty of the former. She wore a red robe nearly identical to Mu Xiaoyao's, making her appear as radiant as a flower. However, the cold, sheathless longsword she held in her arms made her appear even more aloof than Mu Xiaoyao.
The woman holding the sword looked at the woman as serene as a lotus and suddenly sighed softly: "Mo Ningzhi, have you always wanted to kill me?"
The woman with skin as smooth as jade, named Ningzhi, slowly opened her eyes. After a moment of silence, she answered softly but earnestly: "Shen Qingshan, haven't you thought of killing me? But I can't kill you, and you can't kill me. So thinking about these useless things is pointless."
Shen Qingshan smiled, looking down at the longsword in her hand, as still as autumn water: "Not necessarily. When I grow tired of my so-called mission and want to live a new life, I will definitely kill you."
"When will that be?"
Mo Ningzhi asked. Shen Qingshan thought for a moment and said, "When I'm strong enough that I don't need to fear the person who gave me this mission."
Mo Ningzhi was silent for a while, then nodded seriously and said, "Okay... then I'll try my best to become stronger than you before you become strong enough to kill me."