CALID Chapter 79

It’s my birthday today!!! To celebrate, I’ve released this extra chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

Master

The incident of Han Lingqiu being detained can be summarized in one sentence: he was just unlucky.

After Fifteen mistakenly thought Han Lingqiu was Seventeen and informed Tianzhixiao, Tianzhixiao began to pursue Han Lingqiu. Han Lingqiu, being a military commander in Daliang and skilled in combat, was not easy to approach.

Taking advantage of the situation where the leader of the Jingzhou rebels wanted to surrender to Danzhi, Tianzhixiao asked him to trick Han Lingqiu into coming and capture him. This was truly an undeserved disaster for Han Lingqiu.

The “Seventeen” Tianzhixiao wanted to capture was clearly Duan Xu.

When the real “Seventeen” blinded his master and fled, he once thought that was the end of him and Tianzhixiao. Later, when he killed Fifteen under the walls of Shuozhou, he also thought that was probably the end, but none of these were. Perhaps there was no true past, which is why these things kept happening repeatedly, asking for a resolution.

Duan Xu couldn’t help but sigh.

When he sneaked into the Jingzhou Prefectural Mansion, it was already late at night. He first mingled among the guards and entered Tang Dequan’s mansion. Then he left the group and moved between the rooftops. His steps on the tiles were as silent as cotton, not making a sound. Within half an hour, he had figured out the layout of Tang Dequan’s mansion.

Originally owned by the Danzhi Jingzhou Prefect, this mansion, although officially governed by Han customs, often placed bloodline and personal relationships above legal principles. Therefore, high-ranking Huqi officials liked to set up private prisons, and it was common for lives to be taken lightly.

Otherwise, how could Tianzhixiao have set up so many years without being questioned by the Danzhi Court for this organization that had no legal basis?

Based on Duan Xu’s experience, there must be a private prison in this mansion. If Tang Dequan wanted to detain Han Lingqiu, he would certainly not put him too far away from himself, most likely in the mansion’s private prison.

Danzhi had its own theories about geomancy and clear construction requirements for places like private prisons. Duan Xu quickly found the location of the private prison. He lay in wait on the beams of the corridor, observing the patrol situation around the private prison, and keenly saw two people in black cloaks emerge from the grey stone door, whispering to each other.

A gust of wind blew, lifting their cloaks, and Duan Xu saw their faces clearly. One person wore a white-golden priest’s robe under the cloak, looking immaculate, completely at odds with this dark prison. The other wore black clothes, with a firm outline and sharp eyes, fitting in perfectly with this prison.

Danzhi’s High Priest Luda, and Tianzhixiao’s Fourteen.

This time, the person Tianzhixiao sent was Fourteen, indeed an experienced individual. Fourteen was a Huqi person, and Duan Xu had only met him a few times, but by chance, he had once seen Fourteen without his mask after completing a mission, so he knew what Fourteen looked like.

Before him, Fourteen was the most famous and favoured disciple of Tianzhixiao. After he left, Tianzhixiao seemed to have stopped accepting disciples for several years. It was unlikely that anyone would try to steal Fourteen’s limelight.

Duan Xu watched as Luda and Fourteen walked away. Seeing a soldier carrying a lunchbox coming towards him from a distance, he quietly leaped down, suddenly grabbed the soldier’s neck around a corner, deeply inserted a thin needle into his throat, and smoothly took the lunchbox from his hand. The soldier twitched once and then silently collapsed. Duan Xu quickly dragged him into the shadows, changed into his clothes, and then appeared on the corridor, walking towards the prison.

After giving the password, the heavy stone door was clumsily pushed open, and Duan Xu, holding the lunchbox, walked down the steps. Before he had walked a few steps, the smell of blood and dampness hit him. Moonlight streamed into the cell through the narrow window, and torches were lit at intervals in the cell to provide illumination.

Duan Xu stopped in front of a cell. Inside the dim cell, Han Lingqiu’s hands were hanging on the wall, his body covered in red and white wounds, like a heavy rag hanging there, and his collarbone was also locked with iron chains. He lowered his head, his hair dishevelled, and it was unclear whether he was awake or unconscious.

Duan Xu put down the lunchbox and looked around. He opened the prison door with the key obtained from the soldier and walked in. Han Lingqiu’s handcuffs, fetters, and collarbone chains were all locked, and the key from the soldier clearly couldn’t open them.

Duan Xu quickly assessed the thickness and material of the iron chains, then drew the Broken Illusion Sword from his waist, weighing it in his hand, and whispered, “It’s up to you now, Broken Illusion.”

He swung the sword left and right, and the characters “break” and “delusion” on the sword gleamed, cutting through the iron chains one by one as if they were mud. Satisfied, he sheathed his swords, crouched down, and patted Han Lingqiu on the face, urging, “Han Lingqiu, wake up, come with me.”

Han Lingqiu furrowed his brows, shook his head with difficulty, then opened his eyes—bloodshot and deep red, gazing blankly at Duan Xu.

Then his expression changed dramatically. He suddenly lunged, grabbing Duan Xu’s robe, and spoke haltingly, “Chiye Yu…”

Duan Xu’s pupils dilated sharply, and he quickly broke free from Han Lingqiu’s grasp, standing tall as he looked down at Han Lingqiu, who now resembled a wild beast.

Han Lingqiu had spoken in the language of Huqi, using the name Duan Xu had been given during their time in Tianzhixiao, a name based on bed placements as they were not permitted personal names before their deployment.

This was the worst-case scenario—Han Lingqiu had regained his memories.

Years ago, Duan Xu had administered an amnesia-inducing drug stolen from Tianzhixiao to Han Lingqiu, which also possessed an antidote. Now, having fallen into the hands of Tianzhixiao, it seemed likely that they had given him the antidote to restore his memories.

Duan Xu knew the antidote was difficult to prepare and required at least two days to half a month for memories to return gradually. He had hoped to rescue Han Lingqiu before his memories fully returned, but unexpectedly, Han Lingqiu had recovered his memories so swiftly.

Moonlight cast a chilling glow on Han Lingqiu’s face, the scar running down his forehead making him appear more ferocious, as if it split his face in two, his blood-red eyes filled with deep hatred reflecting Duan Xu’s image.

Hatred.

Just as during their seven years in Tianzhixiao, born of instinct, a fight for survival, not knowing what fuelled their hatred, just consumed by it.

Duan Xu crouched down, gripping Han Lingqiu’s robe, looked into his eyes, and smiled, “Han Lingqiu, be alert, look closely, I am your Marshal, and you are my General! I don’t have time to tangle with you now. Stand up, come with me.”

Han Lingqiu paused, murmuring lowly, “Marshal… General… Han Lingqiu…”

Clutching his fists tightly, Han Lingqiu bowed his head, teeth clenched, emitting a mournful, discordant sound as if torn apart by the absurd and contradictory fragments of his past.

Hearing footsteps, Duan Xu immediately stood and turned, facing the returning Luda, who entered the cell slowly, his expression complex as he regarded Duan Xu.

“Seventeen, you’re still alive,” Luda paused, then added, “You are Duan Xu, the Marshal of Daliang.”

Duan Xu remained silent for a moment, then turned his head with a radiant smile, “It’s been years, High Priest. I had said we better never meet again, how unfortunate this is.”

There was a creaking sound in the darkness, as if wheels were turning. Duan Xu tightened his grip on the Broken Illusion Spirit Sword and turned his gaze. A wooden wheelchair slowly emerged from the darkness into the moonlit area. The person on the wheelchair was dressed in black robes, with a decoration made of bones and silver peculiar to the Huqi around his waist. The light gradually climbed up the person’s face. It was the wrinkled face of a nearly sixty-year-old, still showing firm contours and majestic demeanour, but his eyes were only left with purple-red scars, with white hair neatly braided.

Duan Xu slowly widened his eyes.

His master, Muer Tu, his “father” from the age of seven to fourteen.

For a brief moment, he didn’t know where he was.

He seemed to hear the mocking chirping of trees swept away from the past, the gushing of blood, the clashing of swords, the cracking sound of bones breaking. Crying, screaming, someone shouting hoarsely never to spare him, someone begging bitterly for mercy, and someone laughing seemingly true or false.

The laughter was piercing, as if sharp thorns growing from a sea of blood, stabbing everyone along with oneself. Who was laughing?

It seemed to be Seventeen.

It was himself.

At that time, the old man in front of him had sharp ears and eyes, with a proud and disdainful expression that overlooked the world. He bent down to grasp his blood-soaked hands and said, “Indeed, you are a genius, a blessing from the heavens.”

—”You’ve done well, worthy of being the one I have chosen.”

Duan Xu stepped back two steps. Amidst the tumultuous bloodshed, the old man in front of him occasionally showed a somewhat gentle side.

—”The Western Regions have contributed some fruits, very sweet. Only you children like such things. Take them and eat.”

—”Injured again? I’ll allow you three days of rest. What of it? If they were all like you, I would favour them too.”

Duan Xu’s eyes gradually reddened. The madness he had concealed on ordinary days gradually emerged. He was like a hedgehog with all his thorns standing up, smiling and saying, “Master, long time no see. Congratulations, you finally ambushed me.”

This person, who was both loathed and feared, always praised him with the very things he feared and detested the most, pressing him down into the mire over a long period of time.

And yet, this person was also the one who, with another hand, supported his back of the head, allowing him to breathe as he surfaced from the mire.

The old man remained silent. Between them lay a distance of twenty feet, nine years of time, the relationship of master and disciple, and a dazzling hatred.

He spoke lightly, “You saved him once, and now you’ve come to save him again. Why?”

Duan Xu seemed to seriously consider the question, and said, “Why? Why… It’s probably for the same reason as why I didn’t kill you back then, because of the compassion that you despised.”

“Your martial arts, your skills, were all taught by me.”

“All the people I killed, were also because you told me to kill them.”

“People are categorized into different levels. Did you betray me for those lowly individuals?”

Duan Xu smiled, shaking his head, realizing that Muer Tu couldn’t see him shake his head. Only then did he say, “Master, we have deep-rooted differences that stem from our very core. We cannot understand each other.”

At this point, he suddenly had an epiphany, understanding what he had been avoiding all along. He longed for an ending where he never had to see Muer Tu again.

The hatred between them was indescribable. Let all the indescribable resentment, pain, gratitude, and betrayal be obscured by the shadows behind Seventeen, forever concealed in the shadows, with death as the ultimate end.

When he fled, he had expected someone as strong and proud as his master, after facing betrayal and blindness, to never leave Tianzhixiao Mountain Villa for the rest of his life, hiding his wretched appearance behind his glorious name. He had never thought he would see him again in this lifetime.

“Han people are despicable and cannot be trusted,” Fourteen said. He stood behind Muer Tu, pushing Muer Tu’s wheelchair, his vigilant eyes fixed on Duan Xu like a hawk.

Duan Xu chuckled and lifted Han Lingqiu from the ground, saying, “Did you hear that? Are you still not coming with me? Do you want to stay here as a slave?”

But Lu Da said to Han Lingqiu, “Those who dedicate themselves to the Azure God are the God’s people. You are a Danzhi person. You are not Han Lingqiu. Your parents were faithful followers of the God of the Sky, and they dedicated you to Tianzhixiao, hoping you would excel and serve the God of the Sky. To this day, your parents are still eagerly waiting for your return in Danzhi. Do you remember your sister?”

Fourteen murmured, “Originally, you should have been Seventeen. That guy is a cunning apostate who never deserved to participate in the Ming Shi. He ruined your life, separated you from your parents and loved ones, misled you into serving the enemy country. He is the one you should hate the most. Today, neither of you should even think about leaving.”

Han Lingqiu let out an almost frantic scream, breaking free from Duan Xu’s grasp, and clasped his face with both hands, trembling violently. He suddenly pressed Duan Xu against the wall, clutching his throat, and shouted with bloodshot eyes, “Why didn’t you just kill me back then? Why did you save me? Why did you save me?”

Duan Xu looked around at the people standing in the prison cell – Lu Da, Fourteen, Muer Tu, Han Lingqiu, and countless soldiers lurking in the shadows.

It was truly a pack of wolves surrounding him.

“To be honest, I’m starting to regret coming to save you,” Duan Xu chuckled.

**Nomad – Duan Xu: (-_-) could you stop making a scene so we can go?