Chapter Seventy-Nine: No Reasoning with a Battered Dog

Yet the timid young man could not bear to dampen his cousin’s spirits—for now, she was his only remaining kin. They had once been born into privilege, destined for lives of carefree prosperity and peace, but such fortune had abruptly vanished. Ling herself was unsettled by the upheaval; to discourage her now would be unkind, even inhuman.

These two were, in fact, the last surviving relatives of the former master of the world-renowned Wind Pavilion, Feng Manlou. The timid youth was named Lou Bingzhi; his cousin was Lou Ling.

Decades ago, the Crimson-robed Immortal emerged as a force of chaos, becoming sworn enemies with Feng Manlou and slaughtering that eminent power. The massacre was not thorough, and many escaped, dedicating themselves to revenge. Yet these two were likely the last of their line.

Their lives had not been easy. Exiled and hunted, countless sought to capture them, hoping to curry favor with the Crimson-robed Immortal.

With Wind Pavilion fallen, the Meng family, led by Meng Immortal, rose from the ashes to establish Listening Pavilion, now the foremost wind courier in the realm. Their dominance only deepened the siblings’ awkward status; now, they were at a dead end. The Summer Glass Hollow Blossom they used to approach the Color Veiled Immortal was all that remained of their fortune.

Even to attend the auction, they had borrowed another’s name, promising half their gains in return. Only through the mediation of a prominent local clan had they gained entry, enduring humiliations they could hardly grow accustomed to.

While the siblings fretted, a sudden knock sounded at the door. Both glanced toward it; Lou Ling’s brows knitted in apprehension, but before she could speak, Lou Bingzhi quietly said, “Ling, something’s wrong.”

Lou Ling, always forceful and seemingly heedless of others’ opinions, instantly reached for the mace at her waist. She knew her younger cousin, though timid, occasionally possessed a keen sense of danger—a premonition that had saved them time and again during their years of flight. Their elders, whose cultivation far surpassed theirs, had all perished, yet the siblings lived on.

The person outside the door chuckled, then slowly pushed it open and entered.

Lou Ling and Lou Bingzhi faced him as if confronting a mortal enemy. He was dressed head-to-toe in pitch-black night robes, no insignia to betray his identity. Only his eyes were visible, cold and vicious. He sneered at their wariness. “How ungrateful. I was going to speak with you civilly... Hand over the Summer Glass Hollow Blossom at once!”

The siblings were taken aback, a hint of disdain in their expressions. Lou Ling retorted loudly, “You petty thief, hiding your face—do you really think I’ll fear you?”

They knew well that the item they possessed was priceless: a spirit herb capable of tempting even a Martial Emperor like the Color Veiled Immortal was far from ordinary. They had expected trouble. Yet the auction was hosted by the scion of the illustrious Jin family of Wuning City, a clan more than capable of ensuring order. The siblings had nothing to fear; even fallen from grace, they would not be bullied by any random thief.

Still, years of caution had made Lou Ling resilient and astute, despite her fierce exterior. Her loud retort was deliberate, trusting that the Jin family’s representatives would swiftly notice if anything was amiss.

But the man before them looked at her as one would a corpse, then, with a wave, struck out with his palm. Lou Ling braced herself for the blow; yet before contact, she felt a tremendous force hurl her against the wall. Blood spilled from her lips, her face pale as parchment.

“Ling!” Lou Bingzhi cried, tears streaming down his cheeks, his face etched with fear and anguish. “Who are you to harm my cousin?” He rushed to Lou Ling’s side, anxiously feeding her a pill, leaving himself utterly exposed in his desperation. Lou Ling, vexed by his foolishness, coughed up more blood, unable to speak.

The man, seeing how easily his task was accomplished, grew even colder. He stepped forward, drew a dagger, and pressed it to Lou Ling’s throat. “The Summer Glass Hollow Blossom!”

A fire of rage burned in Lou Ling’s eyes as she glared at him. Lou Bingzhi collapsed, crying out, “Take it, just don’t hurt my cousin!” He pulled a box from his storage pouch and handed it over.

The man took the box warily, confirmed its contents, and turned to leave, without the slightest intent to eliminate witnesses—a contemptuous gesture that stung all the more.

After he departed, a refined, sharp-featured young gentleman entered—the Jin family’s scion who had sponsored them.

Lou Ling, barely able to clear the blood from her throat, shoved aside the still-trembling Lou Bingzhi and said, “Young Master Jin, just now a thief—”

“A thief? What thief! Watch your tongue! What if you offend that distinguished guest?” Young Master Jin’s demeanor was no longer courteous; he spoke with arrogant disdain.

Lou Ling and Lou Bingzhi stared at him in disbelief. Young Master Jin continued, “That honored guest took your item as a mark of favor—don’t be ungrateful!”

He spoke with an inexplicable delight, surveying Lou Ling’s disheveled state with a condescending smile. Rage threatened to cloud Lou Ling’s vision, and Lou Bingzhi stood bewildered. This was the same Jin scion who had once shown interest in his cousin—why had his attitude changed so abruptly?

Young Master Jin glanced at Lou Bingzhi with contempt. He had indeed been intrigued by the resilient, enduring Lou Ling, perhaps even considering giving her a title if things went well. Yet compared to power, women—or love—meant nothing. This opportunity might be his path to advancement.

Excitement trembled through him as he contemplated his prospects; he quickly composed himself and strode out.

Lou Ling, indignant, called after him, “So Young Master Jin has aligned himself with a great figure? But does greatness mean they can act without reason? I will demand an explanation. Is it right for his subordinate to act so brazenly?”

Young Master Jin nearly laughed aloud, finally turning back, “A great figure is reason itself! There is no right or wrong! And if there were, they would not bother with the likes of you—exiles, bereft of home and status!”