Chapter 48: Slandering Me with False Accusations

A few days later, the two of them had already come near Swordpoint Manor.

“These days, there have been far more ambushes than before. They must already know our purpose.”

Qian Wu panted heavily, his body trembling slightly, his fingers barely able to grip his sword.

Five corpses lay on the ground, each felled by a single stroke to the throat. Judging by their attire, they were neither from the Six Gates nor government officials, but men and women of the martial world.

A woman stepped out from the corner, her long hair catching the sunlight and shining like snow. She asked,

“Who are these martial artists?”

Qian Wu flicked his longsword and replied calmly, “Most likely, they were drawn here by the demonic weapon in your hand. Today’s enemies and the two groups from yesterday were all from the martial world, from both the orthodox and unorthodox paths. They must be after the treasure.”

Shi Ya glanced at Qian Wu’s swaying figure and asked softly, “Do you want to rest?”

Qian Wu shook his head. He searched the bodies, found some dry rations, tucked them into his robe, straightened his back, and said,

“We will rest once we reach the town at the foot of Swordpoint Manor.”

Shi Ya nodded. She could see that the man before her was at the end of his strength—her own condition was, in fact, better than his.

For days, he had done all the killing, covering their tracks, killing again, covering their tracks again, and counter-tracking—all by himself. He was exhausted; it was sheer willpower that kept him standing.

Just watching him left Shi Ya with a bitter taste in her heart.

What kind of upbringing could shape a man who refuses to fall, even now?

He must have suffered greatly in the past…

Shi Ya’s eyes softened, but then a red gleam suppressed her emotion. She spoke calmly,

“I am in much better condition now than before. If there’s another fight, I can take it.”

Qian Wu shook his head. “The master of Swordpoint Manor is of third rank—a first-class fighter in the martial world. If you use the demonic weapon now, you might kill him, but you won’t be able to face the next opponent. Leave everything to me.”

Shi Ya pressed her lips together and said no more.

When they finally reached the town, they were shocked to find it deserted. The streets were a mess, as though the townsfolk had been forcibly driven away.

Every house had its doors and windows tightly shut; who knew how many people lurked in the shadows?

The two exchanged a glance. Qian Wu took a deep breath, then strode forward.

Shi Ya watched his back, her right hand gripping the slender object on her back, a decisive glint flashing in her eyes.

She had suffered enough—she did not want to lose the one person who had treated her kindly, not even at the cost of her life.

“You’ve finally arrived.”

At the end of the street, dozens of men and women stood, dressed in simple, varied attire, brandishing swords and sabers, exuding a murderous air and a sense of righteousness. The middle-aged man at their head cupped his fists and said,

“I am Shu Qiu of Great Sun Manor.”

Several other leaders stepped forward, also cupping their fists and introducing themselves:

“Yan Meng of Wei’an Manor.”

“Miao Bei of Gaojiang Manor.”

“Duan Ga of Yangshuang Manor.”

Shu Qiu smiled courteously. “The Eighteen Manors of Jiangnan heard there was a fiend slaughtering towns, leaving countless dead in their wake. We came to investigate. If there’s been a misunderstanding, let’s settle it peacefully.”

“But if the rumors are true, we will urge the culprit to lay down their weapon and turn themselves in, so as to uphold the dignity of the righteous path in Jiangnan.”

Qian Wu and Shi Ya tensed. They could sense the strength of their opponents—the so-called orthodox disciples were of uneven skill, yet all were experts in their own right. The leaders, drawn from each manor, would be difficult to handle if they attacked.

They had heard that the Eighteen Manors led the righteous path in Jiangnan, but did not expect them to be stirred so quickly.

“So then,” Shu Qiu’s gaze swept over them, his face full of geniality, his voice clear and pleasant, “are you the ones who slaughtered Hongzhou?”

As his words fell, a wave of killing intent surged from the Eighteen Manors behind him. Shi Ya felt the weight of many gazes, especially from the leaders up front.

She could feel it clearly: from the very start, Shu Qiu’s eyes had never left the object on her back.

Qian Wu raised his sword, narrowed his eyes, and was about to speak when suddenly, footsteps sounded from behind.

“You so-called righteous clans just want the treasure for yourselves, yet you speak in such self-righteous terms. Truly hypocritical.”

As the voice echoed, a group of martial artists in bizarre clothing appeared at the rear of the town.

Individuality was their hallmark—flamboyant hair, tattoos, dyed locks, and all manner of strange weapons, many of which could be found among the Thirty-six Oddities of the martial world.

Each one bore an air of menace, as though the words ‘keep away’ were written on their faces.

The demonic path was not always like this. In the old days, even highwaymen who ran with the outlaws still spoke of honor and brotherhood—and dressed far less ostentatiously.

But perhaps, with the popularity of storybooks nowadays, scholars who had never seen the real demonic path simply imagined it as they pleased.

Thus, in the minds of common folk, the demonic path must be flamboyant; dress too decently and both the people and the orthodox would look down on you. Over time, things simply became this way.

Shu Qiu’s expression darkened as he glanced at the group of strongmen opposite him, his voice cold.

“Chen Tuozhi, Wolf Fang Su, Green-Headed Granny… You dregs of the martial world are finally showing yourselves, and not cowering in the shadows?”

Chen Tuozhi’s voice was as rough as gravel as he sneered at the orthodox crowd in the distance. “What? Only you are allowed to covet the demonic weapon? We’re not allowed to snatch it?”

His words immediately set the orthodox disciples ablaze, especially the younger ones at the back—emotions running high, insults flying:

“Nonsense!”

“Slander!”

“Eat shit!”

“You bastard!”

“How can the righteous path be accused of stealing? We seek to redeem the demon, restore the righteous path, and secure the weapon to prevent further chaos!”

The demonic crowd had their own hotheads, who immediately shot back. Before a single blow was struck, spittle was already flying everywhere.