CALID Chapter 25

Arson

Duan Xu peeled off another layer of the thousand-layered paper, and the layer that was torn clearly spelled out the words “Bone Shrinking Technique.” This kind of martial arts required starting from childhood, bending every inch of one’s bones to the limit day after day, and was a painful practice. For example, the Mr. Fifteen from before, although slightly taller than Lin Jun, could still disguise himself as Lin Jun, probably using the Bone Shrinking Technique.

Duan Xu walked to the window, parted the curtains to look around, and said, “The Illusion-breaking Sword is in the hands of that person.”

When he was just bound up, his weapons were confiscated, and the Illusion-breaking Sword was now in the hands of one of the guards outside. Duan Xu pulled out a piece of soft iron wire from his hairpin, wrapped it around his palm twice, and turned to He Simu with a smile, saying, “It’s almost nightfall; the drama should come to an end.”

This person was best at doing unexpected things; not a step was the same as an ordinary person’s. Generally, someone with a deep mind would appear calm and composed, but Duan Xu was very good at being dramatic while still maintaining a deep facade.

He Simu watched Duan Xu for a moment and then said casually, “Then I, as the front-row audience, will wait eagerly.”

The sun quickly set, and the night fell. The sound of firecrackers came from the not-too-distant Shuozhou City, and the lively atmosphere penetrated through the thick city walls, reaching the camp through the tent flap. Obviously, the people of Shuozhou City had no idea that their general was now trapped in enemy territory, with only a demon as company. They were all eagerly anticipating a new year without disasters or illnesses.

The Huqi people didn’t celebrate the New Year. A soldier came in, lifting the tent flap to bring food to Duan Xu. Like Number Fifteen, he had his hair braided in the Huqi style. Glancing at Duan Xu, securely tied up, he put the food on the ground in a perfunctory manner.

Duan Xu smiled and said in Huqi language, “Brother, how can I eat if you leave it here?”

The soldier obviously didn’t expect Duan Xu to speak Huqi. When he looked up in confusion, Duan Xu had disappeared from the frame, and a piece of soft steel wire was suddenly tightened around his neck. He didn’t even have time to make a sound before collapsing.

Duan Xu stood behind him, mercilessly tightening the wire around his neck until the man suffocated and died.

He held up the fallen body, swiftly exchanged clothes with the Huqi soldier, and scattered his neatly tied hair. After skilfully weaving his fingers through his hair, he transformed into the appearance of a braided Huqi person.

It seemed he was quite skilled at braiding hair.

He Simu hugged her arms and watched from the side.

Duan Xu securely tied up the person on the rack, thoughtfully quickly tied up his hair, put on a hair crown, and fixed it neatly. After finishing, he patted the person’s shoulder and said, “Sorry about that.”

Then, completely transformed into a Huqi person with a helmet on, Duan Xu walked out of the tent, but was stopped by two guards at the entrance.

The night was deep, with no stars or moon, and the torchlight couldn’t illuminate people’s faces clearly. The guard asked, “Password.”

It seemed they were still quite vigilant.

Duan Xu sighed lightly and said, “Too bad.”

Almost as soon as the words were spoken, the knife he had just confiscated from the soldier delivering food was already out of its sheath. He moved like a swift black wind, swiftly circling around the tent. Before anyone could even call for help, the guards around the camp fell one after another, blood splattering three feet, throats cut open.

Duan Xu silently completed all of this, then retrieved his Broken Illusion Sword from one of the guards. He discarded the cumbersome long knife in his hand, tied the Broken Illusion Sword to his waist, and smiled at He Simu, “We’ll be discovered soon, let’s go.”

His demeanour was like that of a mischievous child who accidentally set off firecrackers in a chicken coop, running away after causing trouble, without any solemnity in the act of killing.

He Simu narrowed her eyes slightly, sitting on her lamp post floating beside Duan Xu. Seeing him move like a cat, silently shuttling between the tents, countless people fell to the ground silently wherever he passed. He was accustomed to killing swiftly with a single sword stroke and would support them before they fell, letting them land quietly. This was a very skilful assassination technique, executed cleanly.

Someone had already noticed the prisoner escaping and killing people everywhere, and the noisy voices rang out. Soldiers shouted, “Someone’s escaped!” “Where?” “Over here… no, over there!”

Duan Xu’s route of advance was extremely strange, sometimes east, sometimes west, back and forth, confusing the Huqi people and making them dizzy, not knowing where he was killing, let alone how many people were being killed. Some even shouted that hundreds of Daliang people were attacking the camp. Yet Duan Xu didn’t mind the chaos. He shouted in Huqi language, “Han people are disguising as us!” This voice spread quickly, causing suspicion among the Huqi people who were holding knives and torches, wondering if their companions were spies.

Duan Xu is like a wolf in sheep’s clothing that has infiltrated the flock. At one moment, he follows their calls, and when in less populated areas, he begins a slaughter. He manoeuvres cunningly and single-handedly disrupts the Huqi army camp, taking advantage of their disarray to sneak into the armoury. With one hand, he carries a Tung oil barrel, pouring it onto the siege chariots, then amidst the chaos outside, he subdues a panicked horse and ties it to the chariot.

Duan Xu ignites the chariot with a torch. The horses, feeling the heat, wildly neigh and charge out of the camp, setting tents ablaze as they rampage. Tonight, an uncommon east wind fans the flames, rapidly spreading through the already chaotic Danzhi army camp.

He Simu watches this scene unfold, suddenly remembering Duan Xu asking her about when the east wind would blow about half a month ago.

Everything that has happened today has been meticulously planned by him.

After burning the armoury, Duan Xu rushes to nearby tents and barges in. Guards at the entrance try to stop him but he slips past them like an eel. He lifts the tent flap and shouts, “Report to the general, the armoury is on fire! The Han people set it ablaze!”

He Simu looks over and sees in the centre of the tent, hurriedly donning armour, none other than the chief of the Hulan army, Awoqi. There are many Danzhi guards and officers with black braids around him. Perhaps due to the extreme chaos or Duan Xu’s exceptionally fluent Huqi, he is merely reprimanded with a few words before Awoqi is seen storming away with his helmet, cursing in coarse Huqi.

As he passes by Duan Xu, Duan Xu smiles faintly, and in a glint of cold light, his twin swords are drawn. The guards beside Awoqi are not ordinary, immediately attempting to tackle Duan Xu, but they cannot match Duan Xu’s inhuman speed. Duan Xu dodges and simultaneously strikes with both swords, the movements so fast only shadows can be seen. Awoqi’s head falls to the ground like tofu.

This is the renowned general of Danzhi, never expecting to meet his end at the hands of a youngster not even twenty.

The guard’s swords also cut Duan Xu’s shoulder, adding to his previous injuries, but with one on each side, it’s an even distribution. Duan Xu deflects the guard with his right sword, and with his left, he swiftly picks up the severed head from the ground and wraps it around his waist. With this dramatic assassination, a large number of Danzhi soldiers have already rushed over, surrounding Duan Xu. Intimidated, they hesitate to approach.

Duan Xu holds the swords in his hands, leisurely twirling them, and with a faint smile, he remarks, “Wow, so many bodies.”

He says this in Chinese, perhaps only He Simu among the entire camp can understand.

Duan Xu takes a slight step back with his left leg, then swiftly plunges into the midst of the soldiers. His attire is so similar to that of the Huqi people that the soldiers surrounding him are momentarily confused. But that’s not all; as he fights, Duan Xu extinguishes the lamps one by one in the tent. In the blink of an eye, all four lamps inside the tent are snuffed out. The entire tent is plunged into darkness, with only the intermittent sounds of cries as soldiers fall to the ground. When the archers rush in, they are bewildered, unable to discern their targets. They quickly call for torches, but even those with torches cannot push through the chaos, only illuminating a scene of disorder.

Amidst this chaos, He Simu leisurely walks through the camp. Danzhi has set up many tents outside the city, each identical, making it impossible to distinguish the commander’s tent. How could Duan Xu know where Awoqi resides?

As she walks, she suddenly kicks a plate. Bending down, she finds several red-tailed fish in the porcelain plate, one already half-eaten. Looking around, she spots a trembling blue-eyed white cat in the corner, a precious breed likely from the Western Regions. Only someone of Awoqi’s status could afford such a pet and bring it to the frontline.

He Simu realizes the connection. Duan Xu should know that Awoqi is fond of cats, bringing his pet even to the battlefield and feeding it only with small red-tailed fish. So, when she mentioned to Duan Xu seeing soldiers carrying red-tailed fish into this tent, he knew it was Awoqi’s command post.

When He Simu looks up again, Duan Xu has disappeared. The tent, now illuminated by the fire, is filled with corpses, almost all with their throats slit, their deaths remarkably neat, though blood spills everywhere.

Did Duan Xu say something about many bodies just before the massacre began?

He Simu chuckles softly to herself, murmuring, “Arrogant kid.”

She floated out of the tent riding on the light of the ghost king lamp. It didn’t take long for her to find the most handsome young general. The Hulan army camp was now in chaos, with soldiers suspicious of each other, wondering if they were disguised Han people. The armoury had been burned, and the chariots carrying fire were rampaging, turning the camp into a blazing inferno. The chief had died, leaving chaos akin to a pot of boiling oil splattering everywhere. Duan Xu dashed away at an astonishing speed, snatching a war horse from the edge of the camp, mounting it, and galloping off.

Though some tried to stop him, they were easily dealt with by Duan Xu, who had killed many with arrows from some unfortunate soldiers. He grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

A troublemaker who caused a ruckus and left.

There probably wasn’t anyone alive who could match his skills.

He Simu floated to his side and asked calmly, “The armoury?”

“Awoqi always places the armoury near his commander’s tent,” Duan Xu explained briefly.

“You truly have exceptional skills.”

Duan Xu chuckled, his spirits lifted. “The last time someone said that to me was my master. He always thought highly of my intelligence and talent, believing I would achieve great things. So, he treated me well. Even though he had me start killing at the age of seven and by fourteen, I had killed all my peers. But I managed to deceive him and survive thanks to his favour.”

He Simu paused, her gaze slightly darkening.

In the flickering light of the fire, Duan Xu bore several wounds, his handsome and well-defined features tainted with blood, whether his or others’, it was hard to tell. His eyes, however, were bright, as if discussing something amusing, overly cheerful.

In the past, though he always had a smile in his eyes, appearing carefree and indifferent, there was always a sharp glint deep within. But now, that glint seemed to be dissipating.

He seemed too joyous, abnormally so.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you still sober?” He Simu said coldly.

If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t ask someone who effortlessly disrupted the enemy camp and assassinated the commanding general whether they were sober or not.

Duan Xu seemed to pause, as if taken aback.

Suddenly, two arrows came whistling through the air. Duan Xu dodged the first one, but the second one struck the horse’s leg. With a neigh, the horse collapsed to the ground. Duan Xu leaped off the horse and rolled on the ground before standing up, facing the person with the bow not far away.

The Danzhi camp was too slow to react. They didn’t catch up to Duan Xu, but someone managed to catch up after all.

It was the ever-impassive Fifteen.

Fifteen tightly pursed his lips, and finally, a raging fury spread in his cold eyes. He aimed at Duan Xu and gritted his teeth, “Duan Xu! Who are you exactly? What have you done?”

Duan Xu remained silent for a moment, then burst into laughter uncontrollably. He brushed his forehead and his curved eyebrows, saying, “Fifteen, isn’t it normal for someone who emerges from Heaven knows where, to stand alone against a hundred, and take the head of a general among tens of thousands? Aren’t I just doing something very normal? Brother Fifteen?”

Fireworks celebrating the New Year rose from the city of Shuozhou, sparkling brightly in the sky, illuminating the dark night, and lighting up the shock on Fifteen’s face.

“Brother, you’ve got the wrong person. Han Lingqiu isn’t Seventeen. He was supposed to die because he lost to me in the trial.”

Duan Xu pointed to himself and said casually, “I am the real Seventeen.”

The author has something to say: It’s revealed! Actually, many readers guessed it right hahaha.

Duan Xu, this person, actually feels a bit like a “hero with a touch of madness”.