189. Death Hunts the Moonlight, II (Patreon)

The part of the forest where the shack was located was still mesmerizingly quiet. It was almost as if time was standing still, the only indication that it wasn't the falling snowflakes and the occasional stirring of branches of pine as a clump of snow grew too heavy to bear.

Wu Hao kept his mind focused on the mission, even if he felt a strange urge to try and step out of line in order to go see if Du Linglong still lived. In an odd way, he felt responsible for whatever happened to her. It wasn't rational, but it was a feeling he couldn't rid himself of.

He'd crept through the snowy underbrush, following the same route again, and now he was at the same spot where he'd lain last time. Judging by his own internal clock, he'd made better time than last night now that he was simply retreading his previous steps.

Didn't make the position he'd chosen any more comfortable, though. A thin stone was poking into his side, and it was only the influence of the cold yin qi he was currently letting circle through his body that prevented his breath from misting and giving him away.

Focusing as much as he could, he felt the distant echo of a phantom headache, which turned into the real thing more and more as he studied the contours of the shack. Last time he'd managed three parts out of nine. Tonight, he'd aim for the other six.

He tried to push away the thoughts that maybe what he was doing here didn't matter, and that maybe he would be better off checking out the main house, or just killing Ke Shuang while he slept.

First this, he reminded himself repeatedly. Then he could try something else. Was it the working of the array that thoughts of things he'd rather be doing kept popping up, or was that just his own reluctance?

His eyes began to blur and lose focus as soon as he had managed to trace a single line. It was instructive, in some ways. It was a very complicated array which must have taken almost an entire day to paint for anyone - except Master Shu. The lines curved gracefully, integrating themselves in the wooden planks that were almost visible through the array.

There was something about it, though. Wu Hao stared at the array, feeling headaches gnaw at his concentration like relentless vermin, but he couldn't spot it, even with all the knowledge that Master Shu had stuffed into his head. All that was left was a feeling that some of the lines seemed almost random, swerving as if painted by a toddler or a madman, and that same profundity.

When he'd managed to barely memorize the fifth part, he felt something small give. Eyes wide he tried to check himself for any injuries, but there was nothing obvious and his head seemed fine. Until a droplet of blood oozed out of his nose. He felt its warmth drip down to his lips, landing in the snow beneath.

Fuck, Wu Hao thought, fighting down the panic. He still had four more parts to memorize. Why now?

Bending over slightly into the cold snow he put his hand to his nose to catch the blood before it could fall, but in the process he shifted just slightly - and his back butted against one of the branches nearby. Wu Hao froze.

A thin bundle of snow which had been gathering on the branch shook itself loose abruptly, and the guard's eyes snapped to his position. Fuck.

"Who's there?" the guard demanded. He pulled his sword from its sheath, then put himself into a ready position. "Identify yourself!"

Wu Hao said nothing, hoping that maybe he hadn't actually been seen. The thought crossed his mind that he should reset right now, but maybe....

Closing his eyes, the guard pushed some qi into his head. When he opened them again there was a blur of qi as his eyes lit up like chips of ice, and then he was staring grimly straight at where Wu Hao was lying.

"You there," the guard called. "I can see you. Identify yourself, now!"

Cursing softly to himself, Wu Hao rose into a half-crouch. He shook some of the snow off himself and tried to look like he hadn't been caught sneaking. The nosebleed might have made that difficult to believe, though.

"You," the guard said. His fingers shifted around the grip of his sword. "You're the disciple of the Absent Sovereign."

"I am," Wu Hao said.

"What the hell are you doing here? This is forbidden territory, and it is the middle of the night."

Wu Hao could see suspicion rear its ugly head in the man's qi, staining the clouds representing the man's spirit with a deep paranoid purple-black.

"I'm lost," Wu Hao said. He tried to keep his head low, avoid eye-contact. Imitate Jin Qilong, he thought. Simper a little bit. "I've been looking for a place to do some training? I'm sorry if -"

"In the middle of the woods," the guard said. He didn't lower the sword even a little bit, and more suspicion came thickly concentrated into the man's core. "Where no one is supposed to be. On one of the coldest nights of the year.

He squinted. "With a nosebleed."

"My master really doesn't want my training to be seen," Wu Hao blurted. "He says others might... misunderstand. That they might take it for something that it isn't."

It was a total bluff, but what he was driving at was something he'd been thinking about. If the guard knew what he was actually guarding - if he knew that Ke Jiaming was affiliated with the Demon Cult - if he knew that there might have been evidence inside... Wu Hao could hint that they were on the same side. Maybe more than hint, even.

"He says that the Moonlight Sovereign is one of the few that understands what it means to cultivate," Wu Hao said. "I was attracted to a scent I've smelled so often before."

It took the other man a few beats before he realized what Wu Hao was referring to - a totally fictional shared fascination with demonic arts. That got the guard to lower the sword, at least, as he stared at Wu Hao. Surprise had taken the place of some of the suspicion, but only part of it.

"I see," the guard said. "The Moonlight Sovereign has discussed this with you?"

"I'm the master's only disciple," Wu Hao said. Inspiration struck. "I'll be inheriting all of his legacy, not just what's known."

He winced. Master Shu would not appreciate anything that he was saying now. He just figured that either the old man would understand or that he'd find Wu Hao dead, and in either case it wouldn't be a problem.

The guard nodded slowly. He returned to his earlier position, his sword sliding slowly into its sheathe again. He put a great deal of effort into relaxing, but the suspicion underlining every cloud had turned into rock-hard certainty.

Fuck. It hadn't worked.

Attack, then? No. First, he needed to know more about how the guard fought.

"I can see I'm not welcome," Wu Hao said, and turned his back on the man very deliberately. "I'll be going. I'll discuss this in the morning with my master."

"Yes," the guard said, gruffly. "I think that would be -"

In that same breath that the guard exploded into motion between words, Wu Hao pulled his saber from the spatial storage pocket, and he managed to do it just in time.

"Flowing Clouds Sword Art," the guard shouted even as he took a step that catapulted him to just in front of Wu Hao. "Stratus Downpour!"

In the quiet forest the clash of steel against steel rang out, sword clashing against saber. He'd managed to block the initial strike, mainly by merit of having seen the man's qi beforehand, and an additional sword flashed by, made out of that cloud-like qi.

Even so, the guard was quick as hell. His attack hadn't been especially heavy, but strike quickly enough and from enough angles, and it wasn't necessary to swing hard. Wu Hao let the jewel in his core turn, pulling the excited spark of power into his mind. The guard's lines filled themselves in rapidly - swirling things like tides of wind painted with a deft hand.

In a bizarre way, the duel against Ke Shuang had been good practice for this. Then, too, he hadn't been able to use Heaven-grade techniques. If he tried anything like the Sky-Severing Saber now, then it was almost a guarantee that he'd be discovered.

That didn't make this any easier. Both of them fought in absolute, sullen silence, barely even stopping for breath. The ringing of steel smashing into steel sounded immensely loud in the quiet clearing, the clouds following up every other move with their own swings and slashes.

Pushed back slightly, Wu Hao stared into the eyes of the guard, which had narrowed into thin slits, as they fought over dominance. To his own surprise Wu Hao won, his saber pushing the man's sword back almost with ease, but then the man pivoted on his feet.

"Flowing Clouds Sword Art," the guard declared, his sword dancing as if caught on an invisible breeze. "Nimbus Virga."

Wu Hao juked to the side as the sword cut through the air where he'd just stood, then was forced to duck underneath another strike which glowed with an undercurrent of that same thin greyish qi, but another blow was on him again in moments that was aiming to cut into his weapon-wielding arm.

Each blow meant little, but together they added up, and the man struck faster than Wu Hao could take time to gather qi, again and again. Sometimes to prevent him from gathering qi, other times as a diversion.

But there was a growing desperation in his opponent's qi, and he was starting to flag. Wu Hao was managing to block or dodge each of his strikes, no matter from which angle they came or with how much agility he struck. No matter how many feints the guard tried, his qi was more honest than his movements could have been.

Growling to himself, Wu Hao focused his qi. He let the next slash slip through, scoring a long line of pain along his collarbone that was actually aiming for his neck, and spun the jewel around until it spat out sparks.

Then he lashed out, throwing himself forward into a charge that smashed into the guard's body, aiming for the moment between one strike and the next. He managed it just in time, the opponent's swordhilt crashing into his hand in a suddenly desperate block that sent a numb tingle running through Wu Hao's spine.

But the block had been too late.

He pulled his saber back, leaving a red ruin where the guard's heart had been.

"You - " the guard managed, before blood bubbled up from between his lips.

There was a rush of qi that exploded from the guard, before he sagged down into the cold snow, face down. Then, as if to confirm his death, the pool of qi that he'd been keeping in his core started seeping outwards and upwards, trailing quickly into the sky like invisible tethers were attempting to lift him up again. But then each of the tethers snapped, leaving only Wu Hao and the dead man behind.

Wu Hao panted for breath. He felt every deep breath twice over, the cold coiling in his lungs like a serpent. It didn't hurt, but it was so uncomfortable that it felt pretty near to it.

Weighing his options, ignoring the cooling corpse, he acted quickly. First, he drew a sheet of paper from his spatial storage and selected a fresh patch of snow, which hadn't been ruined by their hurried footsteps, the sweeping lines of sword-strikes and the choppy cuts of his saber. He set the scroll down, making sure that it wouldn't get too soggy, and then with a few rapid strokes of a brush that he got from storage, he set about painting an array onto the blank paper.

It wasn't anything complicated. It was one of the simplest arrays he'd ever made, in fact. All it did was keep a simple reservoir of qi stable in the form of a thick blob of blood that he infused with qi. When the snow made the paper too soggy, that would break the array, activating the backup channels he'd made sure to paint thickly and clearly.

That backup would activate the secondary array: the flare that Master Shu had provided him with. In other words, all his effort just meant that the array would activate in a bit. It wasn't foolproof, but it'd suffice and timers were difficult to set without more time than he wanted to spend right now.

Then - because he knew what Master Shu's reaction would be, and because he didn't want to face the man right now - he steeled himself and walked towards the shack. He knew it wasn't rational to go there, but the odds were that Master Shu would whisk him away and try to talk him out of going in. He'd call it dangerous, possibly even suicidal, and he would probably be right to.

Wu Hao would risk it. He had relied on Master Shu too much, and the death of Du Linglong had shown him that he needed to take matters into his own hands. The flare was there just to be certain that he had the time to explore, not to rescue him.

Ignoring his master's warnings, he barged into the hut.