Chapter 90

Of the five companions who had met at the inn just two days prior, only two now followed “Zhong Xiao” out of the city.

That night, as the moon climbed high and the hour grew late, “Zhong Xiao,” holding a candle lantern, guided Chen Shu and Yun Shen out of the inn. They walked north—

The very direction Yun Shen had taken them just the other day.

When viewed by daylight from high ground, all one could see were these towers, more daunting than the towering Sword Discussion Platform soaring into the clouds. Sunlight hitting them, they cast shadows like ominous black clouds, suffocatingly oppressive. But at nightfall, these deeply solemn brick structures melted almost entirely into the darkness. Bathed instead in moonlight, they seemed cleansed of their imposing daytime aura, the outlines of the towers blending with the night sky as if clad in a layer of elegant sheer gauze. Where was the terror of daylight? They looked surprisingly pleasant now, as if they had always taken root right here, growing amid the wilderness.

Yet to approach and observe closely revealed figures dimly moving atop the towers and the occasional flash of cold, metallic glint—whether from blades or arrowheads—visible even in the night. Perhaps it was the all-enveloping darkness that made these high towers loom so prominently; the “soldiers” who blended under the sun, the claws and hounds of the Valley of Villains, had their true nature finally exposed once the flood of sunlight receded, leaving only the treacherous moonlight.

It was utterly apparent.

“Zhong Xiao,” either not noticing or pretending not to, confidently led the pair onwards to the Valley of Villains. His manner suggested genuine familiarity and connections within the Vale. As they walked, he greeted people warmly, and even the notoriously unruly bandits politely returned his greetings. One even joined them as a guide from the moment they entered, leading them all the way to the heart of the Valley’s very center: the “hall,” the small palace-like turret.

More than a century had passed since people started inhabiting the Valley of Villains. Though two lifetimes is neither notably long nor especially short, starting entirely from scratch means its story is a lengthy one indeed, spanning several pages of historical chronicles to properly recount a hundred years of transformation.

It originated as a desolate scar upon the rugged mountain range, starkly devoid of human presence. While the Yushui River nurtured all of Yunan and Yubei, it had skipped right past the area around the Valley of Villains. Farchenglay further south, though distant from the great river, wasn’t entirely cut off; journeys back and forth could feasibly be undertaken on foot. Besides, Fangcheng received plenty of rain, which blessed its surrounding plains with abundant fertility. To the north and east, mountain streams raced down gullies to the sea, ensuring water was plentiful everywhere—everywhere, that is, except for the Valley of Villains. Though nestled within mountains, it occupied a low-lying basin. High rivulets flowed around it to the sea, and the Yushui River lay far beyond.

For this hundred years, the Valley of Villains housed people for the very first time.

Absence of a reliable water source, inadequate sun exposure—even fertile soil—meant little to a band of ruthless, murderous bandits. As long as the surrounding hills enclosing the valley remained, the ill-gotten gains plundered from the people served as an endless blood supply. By taking a little from each citizen, just enough to endure without forcing them into fatal despair, the Valley of Villains pinned itself firmly above the vast wilderness of Yubei like a brand seared into flesh, impossible to ever remove.

Just like this Valley of Villains—its original name had long faded from memory, blurred alternatives erased over volumes of recorded histories. Only after it extended its consuming grip over the entirety of Yubei did these three words carve themselves onto stone tablets and into annals once more, no longer buried under windblown sands.

From the instant they entered the Valley, the pair were brought to attention.

The buildings within the valley stood in a rigid, imposing formation. Compared to the carefree individuals milling about the sentry posts, watchtowers, and even the stables, these towers were far too orderly, aligned so precisely they seemed utterly out of place amidst the wild grasses blanketing the land beyond the valley and the forests yellowing with the approaching winter.

Let alone the “Main Hall” right at the center.

This was precisely the place where Yun Shen had first met Xiao Zhong after being brought back to Fangcheng.

Yun Shen was well-traveled and unfazed, but Chen Shu hadn’t been down the mountain for long. The most exquisite tower she had seen was merely the government office in Yingqiu City, renovated by a county magistrate over a few years with plunder extorted from the people.

If one had to say, apart from being large, spacious, crafted with meticulous detail, heavy with the scent of flowers, and having lanterns piled up inside as if they cost nothing, this Yingqiu government office wasn’t much different from any ordinary one.

But the Valley of the Wicked was centuries old.

Moreover, while access to Yingqiu City was inconvenient, the Valley of the Wicked was not. Carve out just a section of the mountain path, and a smooth, broad thoroughfare lay open—north straight to the imperial capital, south naturally leading to the winding Yushui River. This Yushui River had brought Diancang Pass into existence from nothing; how could it not enable the Valley of the Wicked to abduct a few unlucky carpenters and masons to construct such exquisite towers?

At that moment, Yun Shen, Xiao Zhong, and Wei Mian were in this tower. Wei Mian had once again taken the initiative to sit closest to the door. Naturally, Yun Shen sat beside Wei Mian, one to the left, one to the right, both quite far from Xiao Zhong in the center, making the small turret seem somewhat cavernous. But now, just as they entered the building and ascended the steps, they saw that dozens of chairs inside the hall were already filled. The moment they crossed the threshold, these people—some dressed meticulously, as if in court robes, others clad in crude clothing messier than Yun Shen’s grey robe—all turned their gazes towards the entrance.

The scene was such that a stranger might well have thought they had mistakenly stumbled into the court assembly of some minor fiefdom, even though only moonlight showed through the window.

Seated at the head, however, was a man, bald and draped in a sable coat, broad-shouldered and sizable. Upon seeing them led inside, he gave a forced smile that only moved the corner of his mouth.

“Heard you’re here for a sword?”

“That’s right,” Chen Shu responded bluntly. The candlelight was bright; in the warm glow filling the room, she scanned the gathering without inhibition, her gaze finally settling back on the man at the head. “And who are you?” she asked instead. “The bandit lord of this Valley of the Wicked?”

Hearing her brash, direct question, those present couldn’t help but show astonishment, some even bearing a peculiar expression caught between anger and shock, yet not daring to fully show it.

Amidst this, only the bald man’s smile remained unchanged. Regarding her with evident disdain, he propped his chin on his hand, seeming to strive for a look of solemn authority. But his large, bald head gleamed under the candlelight, and his flashy gold and silver adornments caused light to catch unevenly on his frame. Leaning forward further only made him appear increasingly absurd.

“Well, now that you’ve entered the Valley of the Wicked, you’re guests. Attendants—fetch two more chairs,” he commanded casually, waving a hand towards the trio.

A figure seemed to move in response outside the door. Yun Shen and the shopkeeper also appeared ready to bow politely in thanks, but Chen Shu merely waved her hand dismissively and forthrightly refused. “Not necessary. I’m only here for my sword. If you’re someone who carries weight in this Valley of the Wicked, then I’ve found the right place. I don’t need to ask about anything else, so chairs and stools won’t be needed either. Just tell me this one thing—shouldn’t the sword you seized be returned to its rightful owner?”

The bald man froze for an instant before bursting into loud laughter. “Don’t be in a hurry! Let’s take it slow. How can we settle things without talking them through clearly?” With that, he waved his hand again. This time, chairs were indeed brought in. One was thrust into the hands of “Zhong Xiao” first, then delivered to Yun Shen and Chen Shu. Chen Shu, being straightforward, seemed to feel that sitting in one of the Valley of the Wicked’s chairs would truly bind her to them somehow. She puffed up her cheeks, her face full of displeasure, yet biting back her temper, thinking only of her sword, before reluctantly sitting down.

“And what exactly do you want to ‘talk through clearly’?” she demanded the moment her rear touched the chair.

“You’ve been staying in this Fangcheng for several days now, haven’t you?” the bald man countered instantly, as if he’d been waiting for this. “I wonder what you feel and think about the place? Hmm?”

Chen Shu was momentarily speechless. She sucked in a breath, almost blurting out her true thoughts, but fortunately, Yun Shen sitting beside her discreetly patted her hand as a warning. She turned back, bewildered, and heard Yun Shen lean close, whispering at her ear: “The customs are free, the place is full of vitality.”

“Zhong Xiao” was also watching her with a full-faced smile, as if he’d overheard Yun Shen, and nodded encouragingly at her.

Her earlier assertiveness instantly deflated. She sullenly matched Yun Shen’s steady gaze with her own vacant one, inevitably losing this silent contest. Turning back, she repeated, a touch peevishly: “The customs… are free… it’s full of vitality…”

Strange to say, every single one of these talented and unusual individuals gathered here had clawed their way to prominent positions within this brutal, survival-of-the-fittest Valley of the Wicked. Yet not one of them appeared to register Yun Shen and Chen Shu’s conversation, spoken in voices that couldn’t be clearer. They not only refrained from voicing any suspicion, but several actually began chattering enthusiastic agreement. Murmurs of “such simplicity” and “such carefreeness” rose, followed by a flurry of praises so florid they sounded like typical flattery, save for one thing—these compliments weren’t directed at the ridiculous, improperly dressed leader sitting at the head… but at Chen Shu.

This shift in the conversation’s focus was so obvious that even Chen Shu herself sensed it. She shot an imperceptible glance towards Yun Shen at her side. Ever since entering this Fangcheng, or perhaps since Diancang Pass, Yun Shen hadn’t intervened as he once had. In fact, he had occasionally even deliberately put some distance between them.

Previously, it hadn’t been noticeable. But now, with her sword quest involved, where Yun Shen had often served as the “strategist,” Chen Shu turned back and saw that after that one crucial prompt, he had fallen utterly silent. Even she seemed to sense something amiss.

She blinked, pondering briefly before quickly dismissing the thought. Swiveling back, she cut in: “—Since I’ve answered your question, respected sir, isn’t it my turn to ask? Where exactly is the sword your faction seized? Why won’t you tell me? Why resort to such pointless chatter?”

“The sword is naturally still here,” the bald man stated, smirking. “Someone entered this very hall just now. Didn’t you notice?”

Before his words fully faded, an image flashed through Chen Shu’s mind. Ignoring the bald man entirely, she sprang into action. Stomping her foot, she propelled herself straight up from the chair and vaulted towards the guard posted just outside the great doorway. Indeed, slung across that person’s back was a sword.

Before anyone could react, Chen Shu hadn’t just reached the doorway—in the blink of an eye, using her hand as a blade, she cleaved through the cloth straps binding it and wrenched the treasured sword from its bearer’s grasp!

The cloth that had enshrouded it began to flutter down, like an early winter snow, revealing the blade’s true form—

It was indeed terrifyingly sharp, and its body bore stains like dried blood!

A stunned silence fell over the room. Only “Zhong Xiao” applauded enthusiastically, but no one joined him. Yun Shen watched as Chen Shu examined the blade, his fingers slowly tightening on the armrests of his chair.

This sword indeed perfectly matched the one described on the Bounty Notice.

“Wrong.” Chen Shu abruptly lifted her head, her fingers, which had been slowly rubbing the blade, freezing mid-stroke. Her bright gaze was like a flash of lightning in the dark night. “This sword—this is not the sword I forged!”