Chapter 110 — Assassination

"Creak!"

The next moment, he pushed the door open.

At the entrance to the Burning Cloud Valley, blood now ran in rivers. More than a hundred tall, powerful savages with fish heads and human bodies were shrieking furiously, wielding all manner of bizarre weapons—spears and sabers, swords and halberds—locked in ceaseless combat with the disciples of the Burning Cloud Valley around them. Blood streamed across the ground, severed limbs lay everywhere, and among the casualties were no few Burning Cloud Valley disciples, but more still were fish-men.

As for those severed limbs, they were likely all hewn off by the savage-natured fish-men.

Yet frightful as the scene was and ferocious as the fish-men were, the tide of battle was gradually being pressed back by the Burning Cloud Valley side. And it was plain the Burning Cloud Valley had deliberately held back: several dozen disciples of higher cultivation had formed a semicircle and were closing in together.

Only, these fish-men of an alien race were truly fierce, and their bodies differed greatly from human kind. Even a cultivator struck by a sword-light from a Burning Cloud Valley disciple would likely be wounded, yet these fish-men, for some unknown reason, had bodies of extreme toughness—and the Burning Cloud Valley folk seemed to have received some order and were holding back. Apart from the sword-radiance and treasures of a few masters, the other disciples' treasures, striking their bodies, at most sent the fish-men flying; blood was rarely drawn.

Still, first, the Burning Cloud Valley folk had all cultivated for many years and were of no shallow attainment; one against one, with the power of their treasures, they still surpassed these savage fish-men. Second, the fish-men had only brute strength and thick hides; the Burning Cloud Valley disciples advanced and withdrew in good order, now and then riding their swords aloft to strike down from midair, which the fish-men found endlessly troublesome. The advantage remained firmly theirs.

And among the Burning Cloud Valley disciples, an old man directed from the center—none other than Lü Shun, whom Ming Li had seen that day at the desolate mountain shrine. His brows were tightly knit now, his face exceedingly grim; plainly he was furious.

In the fiercest part of the fighting, suddenly a miserable scream rang out: a Burning Cloud Valley disciple had grown careless and exposed an opening, and a fish-man hooked his leg with a weapon like a sickle and dragged him bodily down from midair to crash upon the ground. In an instant several fish-men swarmed over him, blades flailing, and he perished on the spot, his corpse left not even whole.

In that instant the Burning Cloud Valley disciples erupted in uproar. Many could restrain themselves no longer and put their strength into their hands; treasures and flying swords shrieked through the air as they attacked in a swarm. Within moments miserable cries rang out one after another—several fish-men had been hewn dead outright by the treasures.

Yet these fish-men were savage by nature. Seeing blood flying everywhere, they showed no fear at all; instead they flung themselves into the fight with even greater frenzy, utterly reckless of death.

Lü Shun rode his sword into midair and shouted repeatedly for them to stop, but below, fish-men and Burning Cloud Valley disciples alike had killed until their eyes were red, and not one heeded his words. A still greater slaughter seemed about to unfold.

Just then, the night sky, where the lone moon had hung high, suddenly darkened. Lü Shun frowned and glanced upward. A mass of grey cloud came sweeping in. His expression changed, and he could not suppress a cold snort.

That grey cloud came with what speed! In an instant it was before their eyes, and its might only grew—winds whirled fiercely in midair, gradually forming a tornado several zhang across. With a sharp sound, "Woo," it came charging down from the night sky.

Almost at the same moment, every flower, grass, and tree on the ground around them was bent outward and torn loose by the gale; sand and stones flew; the weaker Burning Cloud Valley disciples and some of the fish-men were even swept up by the wind and flung away.

The crowd cried out in terror. Before they could react, the tornado had struck the ground. Amid the shrill wind, thud after thud rang out, and several dozen fish-men, as if seized by a giant hand, were all sent flying and hurled backward, crashing heavily to the earth.

The fish-men squealed and shrieked in thin, grating voices, but plainly in great terror. The wind whirled a few moments more, separating all the fish-men from the Burning Cloud Valley disciples, and only then slowly died down. The sound of wind gradually stilled, the great force of it slowly dispersed, and the figure of a grey-robed old man emerged.

The Burning Cloud Valley disciples were taken aback; then they landed one after another and saluted the old man together, saying respectfully, "Martial Uncle Shangguan."

Lü Shun too slowly came back to earth and walked over. He glanced at the grey-robed old man, the veins at his temples twitching, then said with a smile that did not reach his eyes, "Brother Shangguan, a trifling matter like this—how has it brought a great personage like you out?"

The grey-robed old man looked at him and smiled faintly. "The Valley Master has given his order. I had no choice but to come."

Lü Shun's expression changed.

By then Li Xun and Yan Fei had also arrived, descending from the air. Li Xun walked to Lü Shun's side, lowered his voice, and said softly, "Martial Uncle Lü, it was the Valley Master who ordered me to invite Martial Uncle Shangguan here."

Lü Shun gave a cold snort, his face all the uglier, but in the end he said nothing more and turned his head away.

The grey-robed old man did not look at him either. He turned and surveyed the blood-soaked ground before him, and his face darkened.

By now the fish-men had gathered in one place, all eyes fixed upon the grey-robed old man. But now they seemed to recognize him. Somehow these fish-men, who feared not death, were somewhat in awe of this ordinary grey-robed old man, and for the moment dared not rush forward.

The grey-robed old man withdrew his gaze and said in a deep voice, "Where is Sun Tu?"

Hardly had the words left his mouth when a middle-aged man came running out from among the Burning Cloud Valley disciples—none other than Sun Tu, who had gone with Lü Shun that night and understood the savage tongue.

He ran to the grey-robed old man's side, his face utterly deferential, and said, "Your disciple is here."

The grey-robed old man glanced at him. The man was covered in dust and grime; plainly, being of no great cultivation, he had suffered some in the fighting just now. Still, it was luck enough that he was not dead—after all, those who understood the savage tongue were few.

The grey-robed old man said at once, "Come, translate their words for me."

Sun Tu assented cautiously and stood to one side.

The grey-robed old man looked toward the fish-men and called out in a ringing voice, "I am Shangguan Lüe. Let one of you come out and speak."

A stir ran through the fish-men there; plainly they understood Shangguan Lüe's words. And that name seemed to hold some magic for them, remarkable and far-reaching. After a good while, a tall fish-man stepped forward.

Shangguan Lüe studied him a moment, then said slowly, "Do you know me?"

The fish-man hesitated, then said, "Ji ji ji ji."

Beside him Sun Tu at once translated: "They know."

Shangguan Lüe's expression did not change. "Why do you attack my valley? Do you take the Burning Cloud Valley for a place without men?"

The fish-man's face showed fury, and he began to speak, "Ji ji ji ji," his voice full of rage.