My Wife Is A Sword Immortal-Chapter 113 - 98: They All Died

Chapter 113: Chapter 98: They All Died

This was a serious-faced elderly man with meticulously combed hair.

Dressed in purple official robes with a golden fish bag, he held an ivory staff in one hand.

At that moment, his gaze swept across the scene.

The next second, his eyes abruptly fixed on a particular spot!

There lay a bloodied man and an embroidered-robed man with a hole in his forehead.

The elderly man’s body instantly stiffened, standing as still as a wax figure in place.

Not a single movement.

About three breaths later.

He took a deep breath, and his priceless ivory staff tilted and fell.

His figure transformed into a blur, quickly kneeling beside the fallen Qin Ji.

At that time, Qin Ji’s forehead had a thumb-sized hole in his skull, from which a blood-red liquid meandered down.

It was mixed with grayish-white liquid, soaking his shattered chest armor.

The elderly man’s mouth silently opened, then slowly closed again; his hands spread as if to embrace the man beneath him, but ultimately, he did not proceed.

The next second, the elderly man hurriedly reached into his sleeve and drew out a milky-colored substance.

It was a piece of mutton-fat Beautiful Jade emitting a hazy halo.

Upon closer inspection, one would realize that this “mutton-fat Beautiful Jade” was not solid Jade but rather a soft, liquid-like substance upon touching water.

The elder’s left hand formed incantations, and as a Cultivator, his words followed with actions.

“Time Collection Spirit Liquid still flows upon the earth, for it has the power to extend life to this day.”

A finger reached out.

Qin Ji’s forehead was met with the second finger of the day.

The flowing “mutton-fat Beautiful Jade” just touched his wound and began to heal the shattered skull, plugging the gap.

He held his breath and focused, touching Qin Ji’s pulse and feeling it for a few moments before he let out a slight breath.

Then, the elderly man fell silent for three seconds, and the next moment, he turned his head fiercely.

His gaze swept around like a ravenous tiger.

The elderly man, who was usually composed and tranquil, now boiled with righteous anger; his brows furrowed, his eyes blazing, his face red and his veins bulging.

He abruptly stood up, rapidly scanning his surroundings.

There were remnants of a thousand Iron Cavalry, a stuporous and dull man, a black-robed old man with blood flowing from seven orifices, and an ominous man covered in blood…

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Immediately, his eyes locked onto Liu Sanbian next to Qin Ji.

“You despicable curs! How dare you harm my son! You deserve to die, deserve to die!”

The elderly man was uncontrollable with rage, smoke virtually billowing from his seven orifices, he reached out to seize the corpse of Liu Sanbian, his fingers like hooks, clinging to the neck of the Sixth Grade Martial Artist who had exhausted all his qi and died with closed eyes.

“Li Shida, come out to me at once!”

The elder’s voice echoed through the streets, shaking heaven and earth.

As soon as the sound faded, two hurried voices came from the other end of the Vermilion Bird Street.

The person at the forefront was Li Shida; his face alternating between shades of green and white, his chest heaving wildly, staggering as he made his way.

Gao Yi, who followed behind him, had steady steps but his teeth chattered, and his gaze dodged when he saw the elder.

Not yet close, Li Shida already began to speak:

“Teacher, your student…”

“Silence! I asked you to take good care of Ji’er, is this your idea of taking care?”

Li Shida’s body trembled, his feet halted, and he knelt heavily, biting his lip as he lowered his head, silent as the Cold Cicada.

Qin Jianfu’s eyes harbored a piercing storm, his gaze like knives, sweeping over Li Shida and Gao Yi, causing them another round of shivers.

Qin Jianfu’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath.

“Ji’er still has a sliver of life left, I must make a trip to the Qingsui Sect.”

As he spoke, his eyes fixed sternly on the proud student kneeling on the ground.

“Li Shida, you’ve disappointed me greatly, this is your last chance; if Ji’er never wakes again, you can forget ever going to Siqi Academy!”

“You all keep watch over my son at home until I return!”

Qin Jianfu gave a cold shout and left with a sweep of his sleeve, turning into a long rainbow that vanished into the horizon.

————

Three days later.

Evening.

Zhao Rong walked with leisurely steps along the street, passing by the North Gate of Liangjing City.

During this time, he paused briefly, lifted his eyelids, and stole a glance at the body of the Sixth Grade Martial Artist, dangling from the city wall, suspended a hundred feet high, exposed to the elements as a public warning.

Now, after three days of spectacle, there were still many locals lingering to rubberneck at the gate.

Zhao Rong pursed his lips.

The body was drenched in blood, and even after being hung for three days, droplets of dark blood still gathered at the tips of the toes, rhythmically and silently dripping.

Beneath the corpse, on the ground, was an alarming pool of blackish-red blood, spanning a large area, yet left unwashed by anyone.

With the corpse being treated in such a way post-mortem, one could imagine how great the anger in the heart of whoever was responsible for this act must be.

Beyond that, there was another layer of purpose…

Zhao Rong turned his head nonchalantly, looking at the pointing and talking spectators, and among them, certain figures he recognized.

These covert watchers hidden in the crowd had been singled out by his repeated “passing by” over the last two days.

Zhao Rong turned and left.

The person pulling the strings was still searching for them, hoping to use Liu Sanbian’s corpse as bait to draw them out.

But Zhao Rong had changed his outfit, no longer dressed as a Confucian Scholar, and he hadn’t taken Su Xiaoxiao with him.

Additionally, with his innate talent—unremarkable appearance.

It was difficult for him to be recognized.

That day on Vermilion Bird Street, Zhao Rong had witnessed what happened after the arrival of that official-clad old man.

That old man in official robes must be the Prime Minister Qin mentioned by the citizens of Liangjing.

Zhao Rong walked along the road, mulling over the details carefully.

That day, he also saw a young Confucian Scholar and Gao Yi, who had been calling Liu Sanbian his brother just a few days ago.

If there were no surprises, Gao Yi would be the one who betrayed Sanbian, which was indicated by the Array that had been set up in advance on Vermilion Bird Street that day.

As for that Confucian Scholar, after listening to Qin Jianfu’s words that day, Zhao Rong learned his name was Li Shida and went to the market to inquire. He roughly found out Li Shida’s identity as the most intimate student of Prime Minister Qin.

Equivalent to an advisor and strategist for the Qin family.

That day, Qin Jianfu mentioned that Qin Ji still had a slim chance of survival, which made Zhao Rong feel uneasy.

Zhao Rong bought some snacks on the street and brought them back to the inn for Su Xiaoxiao.

Her mood had been low these past few days; she hadn’t eaten much.

The orange sunset had already fallen, and darkness shrouded Liangjing City.

Returning to the inn, Zhao Rong pushed open the door of the room and found that Su Xiaoxiao hadn’t lit the lamp; there was a vague silhouette by the window.

Zhao Rong set down his things and walked over to the oil lamp, taking out a match.

“Don’t light it,”

the little Fox Demon said softly.

Zhao Rong heeded her words, stopping his actions, standing silently for a moment, and then walked over to the window, finding a stool to sit on.

At this time, Su Xiaoxiao was curled up in a chair, hugging her knees, her cheek resting against them, quietly looking at the starry sky outside the window.

Her hair was not tied up as usual, but instead cascaded down her shoulders.

The faint glow from the distant lamplight caressed her jade-like face.

“Zhao Rong, when someone familiar dies, don’t you feel sad?”

Zhao Rong’s eyelids drew together, but he said nothing.

The little Fox Demon fell silent as well.

In the darkness.

The two of them sat quietly for a long time.

At some point.

“They’re all dead,” she said.

“Who?”

“They.”

Zhao Rong didn’t speak.

“Big Yellow, the old schoolmaster of the private school, the villagers from Xiahe Village, and that scholar who came to the Capital to take the exam,”

the little Fox Demon said softly:

“They’re all dead.”

————

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