Chapter 67

Chapter 67

A crisp whistle sliced through the forest mist. Dawn’s light barely illuminated the trees, the sun itself still drowsing below the horizon, as a figure, nimble as a deer, dashed into the thicket. Another whistle followed. Only then did prolonged, rustling sounds emerge deep within the forest—seeming like an answering call.

The sounds grew louder, nearer… then abruptly halted by a tense shout.

“Chen Shu? Slow down!”

“I won’t! Move faster, sister!” Chen Shu shouted back without turning around, her stride only accelerating.

She finally burst through a thicket and dense layers of fallen leaves into a tranquil valley—a realm of lush greenery, birdsong, and floral fragrance. Before she fully cleared the forest, her quarry charged straight at her: a horse bearing hefty packs, its tail scorched a comical black. It was unmistakably the horse she had saved.

Next, their own horses galloped out from the valley’s depths, circling Chen Shu playfully, one after another. They nudged her affectionately with their muzzles, mischievous as spring lambs. Chen Shu’s peals of laughter echoed. Reaching to tweak the black horse’s ear, her hand grasped only air—the creature swiftly pulled back, positioning itself near a tree. It gave a dismissive snort and feigned sudden, deep interest in grazing the meadow grass.

Chen Shu glanced back knowingly just as Shen Jie arrived. Her unbridled joy instantly morphed into awkward restraint. Chen Shu’s merry laugh hitched mid-ring, ending in a choked, sheepish chuckle. Nervously scratching her head, she quickly sidled to the side of the horse with the scorched tail. She gathered its reins and thrust them out as a peace offering towards Shen Jie, ducking her own head low simultaneously—movements so rapid, so reflexive, it seemed she would have pinned an invisible tail right between her legs if she’d owned one.

“What was the rush for?” Shen Jie inquired softly, a chuckle beneath her words.

Chen Shu pondered for a moment. “Don’t you find the act of running itself immensely joyful, sister?”

“Personally? No. I suspect few people genuinely do,” Shen Jie replied, smiling as she patted the scorched-tail horse while steadily examining the baggage. “You were likely kin to these beasts in a prior life, weren’t you, little horse?”

“I am their kin this lifetime too!” Chen Shu retorted.

Her declaration held absolute conviction. Any lingering awkwardness vanished within those words. She promptly reverted to her true, untamed nature. Leaping onto the back of the black horse with practiced ease, she nudged its flanks, setting it into a bouncy circling trot around Shen Jie. Her long, carefree hair streamed behind her, its flow outpacing even the flowing tails of the horses.

Perhaps it was the impending separation that kept Shen Jie from reproaching her. She simply indulged Chen Shu’s incessant chattering by her ear, watching as the girl idly snapped the innocent fallen branches and leaves, even emitting strange, horselike cries at times.

With both overt and covert matters in Yingqiu City resolved, the two lingered no longer. At dawn the next day, they departed the city, hastening westward.

Only this time, Shen Jie, carrying the corpse and documents, was heading north toward the capital, while Chen Shu was returning to Diancang Pass to continue her sword-seeking journey. Today marked the point where their paths diverged.

First ensuring the pattern on the corpse was still discernible, Shen Jie turned and called over another horse, tightening its reins. She made the horse rear slightly before settling it down obediently in place. Only then did she look back and say:

“Time to go!”

“Got it!” Chen Shu replied, urging her horse to catch up. In just a few strides, she cheerfully surged ahead of Shen Jie once more.

This time, Shen Jie didn’t restrain her. She glanced back at the quiet forest, giving the mountains a slight nod before tugging her reins. She spurred her steed to catch up with Chen Shu and asked:

“About seeking the sword after descending the mountain—besides telling me, did you also mention it to Yun Shen?”

“Yes!” Chen Shu answered. Ever unrestrained, and on her swiftly galloping dark horse, her words jostled with each bounce, swallowing the last notes of her voice. She leaped over the scattered patches of sunlight filtering through the trees, soon becoming a silhouette amid the layered greenery, gradually distant.

However, this time, Shen Jie had little chance to savor this rare quiet. Faint hoofbeats soon approached from ahead, and the dark horse that had just sped away reappeared, driven rather awkwardly by Chen Shu through the woods. She reined in directly beside Shen Jie, leaning over, her face radiating unconcealable delight.

“You believe me?”

“When have I said I believed anything you say?” Shen Jie seemed amused, deliberately teasing her. She countered, “Wasn’t I the one just asking you?”

“You were asking me, but—” Chen Shu, never skilled with words, wrinkled her face at this challenge. She blinked, striving hard to find the right words, yet her tongue remained tied. At a loss for a retort, she sulked after a moment’s silence. “—Then if you don’t believe me, why ask?!”

“Wasn’t I about to teach you how to seek the sword?” Shen Jie arched a brow, her eyes sweeping over Chen Shu. “What, don’t want to hear it now?”

“I do!”

In her eagerness, Chen Shu pressed her heels sharply against her horse’s flanks. The dark horse leaped forward several steps, forcing her to hastily rein it in. Only then could she turn fully, eyes gleaming as she stared expectantly at Shen Jie.

“Last time, didn’t we discuss seeking the sword by posting bounty notices?” Shen Jie prompted. A faint chuckle escaped her as she gave Chen Shu a pointed look. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember everything!” Chen Shu patted her chest proudly. “I recall you said that seeking the sword requires questioning people, something about ‘asking with finesse’?”

“Your memory serves you well in these matters,” Shen Jie nodded. “Then let me ask you—how do you plan to ‘ask with finesse’?”

“Hmm…” Chen Shu mimed a throat-slitting gesture, tentatively offering, “Threaten them? Warn them that hiding lost property gets them dragged to court and beheaded? Scare them into telling the truth?”

Shen Jie fixed her with a gaze, carrying a thin veil of reproach that made Chen Shu stick out her tongue sheepishly, her playful defiance mixed with guilt.

“…Truly, you didn’t come here to Yingqiu City in vain—picking up the most preposterous things!”

“I was joking!” Chen Shu hurriedly appeased. Tilting her head thoughtfully, she added, “Asking is essential, but it needs a measured approach. Before confirming someone truly found the sword, don’t spill all the details at once, handing them the advantage.”

Before she finished, Shen Jie pressed her lips together and turned to watch her speak with such composure. The trace of anger on her face involuntarily melted into a smile. “Well put.”

Praise only made Chen Shu’s enthusiasm harder to contain. She couldn’t help gesticulating as she explained: “More! When others speak, listen not only to their words but observe their expression and actions! Read between the lines! Gauge their intent! A crafty villain’s every three sentences may hold only one truth! But lies always leave cracks! Find those cracks, exploit them, and tear apart their deceit!”

“—Why, you sound ready to sit on the judge’s bench!” Shen Jie threw her head back in laughter, reaching past her horse to give Chen Shu an approving tap on the back.

The tap made Chen Shu momentarily freeze, her cheeks flushing crimson. She muttered something softly under her breath before stammering: “…I gave a serious answer! Weren’t you supposed to teach me? Why do I end up doing all the talking?!”

“Isn’t this your chance to show off a bit?” Shen Jie retorted playfully. After another chuckle, her tone softened.

“Here we part—I return to the capital, you head for Diancang Pass. With just two or three days round trip, many members of the Wulin Community should still linger within the pass. Seize this chance. Pay them some silver, request they carry your bounty notice when returning to their sects. Have them post them in bustling cities like Mengcheng and Licheng. Offer a high enough reward, and those idle folks who love spectacles—the gentlemen and ladies—will surely spread the news of your search. This is the first step.”

“How should the bounty notice be written?” Chen Shu inquired carefully, “…Could I write that the sword… flew out of the mountain?”

Shen Jie looked at her with an inscrutable expression. They locked eyes for a moment before both, against their wills, burst into simultaneous laughter.

“Obviously not!” Shen Jie managed between laughs. “Simply write the sword’s appearance—its length, weight, distinguishing marks like nicks or scratches—”

“My sword is a matchless weapon—how could it have chips or scratches?” Chen Shu retorted loudly.

Her voice echoed far across the valley, but Shen Jie merely smiled, disregarding her protest as she continued speaking.

“Nevertheless, one must remain cautious. Human hearts are unfathomable—if tempted solely by reward, some may harbor ill intentions. They might covet the sword’s great worth, seize it for themselves, even snatch it from the true finder’s hands, just to extort money from you or stir up trouble. Others may forge counterfeits, crafted to match your description, to swindle your promised reward. Thus, you must be wary. It’s best to withhold one or two distinctive markings from the bounty notice—don’t describe them too clearly.”

“Now I understand!” Chen Shu exclaimed, counting briskly on her fingers as she plotted with Shen Jie. “Then I’ll write that it’s over two inches long and very heavy, but won’t mention the engraving of my name on the ridge—”

“—Didn’t I tell you not to say it aloud?” Shen Jie cut her off with a scolding laugh.

Chatting as they rode, the two soon returned to the mountain path.

Having traversed the valley, the fork in the road, split by the mountain range, came into view not far ahead. Shen Jie tightened her reins and turned, likely to bid farewell to Chen Shu. Yet as she turned, she found the girl staring at her with wide, dark eyes, remaining silent for a long while.

“I want to go to the capital with you—after all, I can post the bounty there too!” Chen Shu blurted out, seeming to hold back the words all this time. The black steed beneath her seemed of like mind, pawing at the ground restlessly.

“I’m returning to submit my official duties report, not to gallivant. Besides, the capital is no place for casual ‘roaming,'” Shen Jie countered, shaking her head with gentle firmness.

Cheeks puffing indignantly, Chen Shu argued, “I ‘roamed’ through Diancang Pass’s great flood, and I ‘roamed’ through Yingqiu City’s banditry—what’s so strange about the capital that it could hinder me?”

“The capital…” Shen Jie murmured, as if lost in memory, pausing before continuing, “…is a dragon’s pool and tiger’s den. If you can avoid it, you should. If you merely wish to see me again…”

She fell silent, leaving the sentence unfinished, as if catching herself in something unwise—or perhaps fearing to make a promise lightly.

After all, Chen Shu would truly believe it.

“…Say it! If you’re my elder sister now, why mince words?” Chen Shu pressed, oblivious.

“If fate wills it, we shall meet again.” Shen Jie conceded. Finally moved by Chen Shu’s eager expression, she added, “The cause of Diancang Pass’s catastrophic deluge still requires investigation. When you return to the pass, be cautious. And should you have time—”

“Cautious of what?”

“Take care,” Shen Jie stated. “After the flood, The Magistrate’s Men ought to be handling the bodies. But vile men still lurk unseen within Diancang Pass. Unless I misjudge, one among them will pay special attention to the disposed corpses, perhaps even attempt to destroy the evidence—”

As she spoke, she patted the mangled cadaver strapped to the saddle of one of the steeds.

“—A great flood can wash away lives, but it cannot erase the marks branded upon the skin.”