A spring thunder suddenly cracked across the sky like the world splitting open.
"Whoa!" Su Muyu sharply pulled the reins, calming his black stallion that had suddenly grown anxious beneath him. This horse, selected at great expense for its steady temperament, wouldn't normally be startled by mere thunder. As the horse settled with nervous snorts, Su Muyu lifted his head to look at the three figures who had appeared before him like ghosts materializing from mist.
The leader carried an enormous sword on his back and had an imposing build, wearing a gentle smile on his face that contrasted starkly with his warrior's frame. Beside him stood two women with bewitching figures—one wearing an ethereal purple garment that seemed to float in non-existent wind, the other in flowing red robes that danced like flames.
The burly man laughed with forced heartiness, "Brother Yu, you truly live up to your name—wherever you go, rain follows."
Su Muyu frowned slightly, recognition dawning. "Su Changli, Su Ziyi, Su Hongxi—did Chang He send you?"
The burly man called Su Changli nodded with reluctant honesty, "Big Brother sent us. He said to stop you, and if that's not possible…"
Su Hongxi covered her mouth and laughed with dangerous sweetness, "Then we're to put you to sleep."
Su Muyu's pupils contracted slightly. He immediately dismounted in a fluid motion as a strange red flower shot toward him from Su Hongxi's raised hand like a crimson bullet. As Su Muyu landed with practiced grace, the flower passed over his head, its six petals exploding with sickening precision and piercing through his black horse.
Su Muyu quickly opened his umbrella and stepped backward, blocking the spraying blood that misted the air.
Su Ziyi sighed softly, her voice alluring as poisoned honey, "Sister Hongxi, don't be hasty. Did you think you could kill Brother Muyu with just one Six-Petal Flying Flower?"
Su Muyu looked at his fallen horse, his expression utterly blank—a dangerous stillness. "You're trying to delay me."
Su Changli did not attempt to hide it, nodding directly, "Big Brother wants the Patriarch dead but doesn't want you dead. So the best approach is to delay you."
"Do you think I won't kill you?" Su Muyu turned around, slightly raising his oil-paper umbrella to reveal his eyes—and in them, something terrible awakened.
The three of them were shocked into paralysis.
The killing intent that instantly flowed from those eyes made their hair stand on end like prey sensing a predator. The great sword on Su Changli's back began to vibrate involuntarily, resonating with the bloodlust in the air. Su Ziyi's seductive expression froze on her face, leaving only a bead of sweat slowly rolling down her forehead like a tear.
Because the man holding the umbrella was suddenly standing behind them.
If Su Muyu had truly intended to strike, the three of them would already be corpses cooling on the ground.
"Chang He thinks I won't kill you, so he sent you to stop me. He believes he can read my mind. But I was once the Umbrella Ghost of the Su family, and now I'm a puppet of the Spider Shadow Assassins. I've killed many people, and there are times when I cannot control my killing intent."
Su Muyu gently twisted the umbrella handle—a subtle movement that somehow felt like a blade being drawn.
Su Changli swallowed hard, struggling to raise his hand against the overwhelming pressure and place it on his sword hilt, fighting every instinct that screamed at him to run.
"You want to draw your sword?" Su Muyu asked with cold curiosity.
Su Changli's heart jumped like a rabbit in his chest, his back already soaked with cold sweat, his sword hand trembling slightly. He managed a forced smile, "It was just too noisy!" He pressed down firmly on the sword hilt, instantly suppressing the vibrating sound that had betrayed his fear.
"Go tell Chang He that the Patriarch cannot be killed," Su Muyu walked forward, each step deliberate, "and won't be killed."
Only after Su Muyu had walked a hundred paces did Su Changli collapse onto the ground like a puppet with cut strings. Su Hongxi and Su Ziyi beside him were both drenched in fragrant sweat despite the cool air.
Su Changli licked his lips and smiled bitterly, "Big Brother put us in a tough spot, sending us to deal with Brother Yu. I feel like he could kill me with his killing intent alone, without even moving."
Su Hongxi watched Su Muyu's retreating figure and said softly, testing the waters, "Do you think if I released all my flying flowers at him now, I could hurt him?"
Su Ziyi gave a cold laugh that spoke volumes. "You're welcome to try."
Su Hongxi reached into her clothes, then her expression changed dramatically—color draining from her face like water from a broken vessel.
"What's wrong?" Su Ziyi asked with dawning suspicion.
Su Hongxi waved her hand, scattering red petals on the ground like drops of blood. She smiled bitterly, "When Su Muyu passed by us earlier, he had already destroyed all my Six-Petal Flying Flowers."
Su Changli glanced at the dead horse before them and said gravely, "This horse died, and he was angry. If you weren't Su Hongxi, you might already be dead."
"Over a horse?" Su Hongxi frowned in disbelief.
Su Changli stood up, brushing dirt from his clothes. "Brother Yu is a strange person. It's hard to see what lies behind those eyes of his, what he's thinking. In all of Dark River, I think only Big Brother understands him."
"So our mission is complete?" Su Ziyi asked.
"It is. It's almost laughable—we're considered top assassins in Dark River, yet Big Brother's mission for us was just to kill a horse." Su Changli rubbed his temples wearily, "Let's leave the rest to them."
"It's you."
In the forest, Su Muyu stopped walking and gently raised his oil-paper umbrella, unsurprised by what he found.
A middle-aged man with a black cloth wrapped around his eyes sat there beneath an ancient tree. Before him were a pot of tea, a Go board, and a sword—the essentials of a scholar warrior. Hearing Su Muyu's voice, he seemed genuinely pleased and nodded, "It's been a long time. No, I should say it's been long since I've heard your voice."
Su Muyu's hand gripped the umbrella tightly, his voice tight with anger, "That bastard Su Chang He!"
"Don't blame Chang He. I came here of my own accord," the middle-aged man said with maddening calm. "I thought after this matter, we might not have another chance to meet, so I came to see you and perhaps play one last game of Go."
"I'm in a hurry. I don't have time," Su Muyu moved forward with his umbrella, his tone brooking no argument. "Teacher."
The middle-aged man smiled with gentle melancholy. "You always call me teacher, but I was just an instructor in the Crucible. I didn't teach you your martial arts, and your Eighteen Sword Formation has nothing to do with me. I merely played Go with you a few times."
"Back then in The Crucible, without you, Chang He and I might have died long ago," Su Muyu bowed his head slightly, his expression genuinely respectful—a rare sight.
"You know my swordsmanship is poor," the middle-aged man lifted his head, though he couldn't see Su Muyu—hadn't seen anything in years.
Su Muyu looked at the sword on the table, seeming to guess something—understanding what was being offered, and what it would cost.
"Let's play one game." The middle-aged man reached out, already placing a black stone on the board with practiced precision despite his blindness.
Su Muyu put away his paper umbrella and sat formally at the stone table, raising his hand to place a white stone in response. The click of stone on wood echoed in the quiet forest. "Did you come here to persuade me to join forces with Chang He?"
The middle-aged man nodded without pretense. "You've broken through many dangerous situations together. You're the most incredible partnership Dark River has seen in a hundred years. This time, I believe you can still succeed."
"In every previous case, our positions were aligned. But today, he wants to kill someone I've sworn a blood oath to protect with my life," Su Muyu said gravely, each word weighted with finality.
The middle-aged man paused, his hand hovering over the board, then asked quietly, "Is the Patriarch worth such dedication?"
Su Muyu hesitated before answering with brutal honesty, "No, he isn't."
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