Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Jade Flute Comes by Night

Yang Cheng and his two companions returned straight home to the Yang residence, not bothering to seek out the four young lads. Tonight, Wuzhou City was ablaze with excitement, destined to be a sleepless metropolis; the crowds were vast and searching for anyone among them was futile. The boys, rarely exposed to such grand scenes, could play a while longer before coming back—it hardly mattered.

By the time they arrived, the night was deep. Each quietly retired to his own room to rest.

As was his habit, Yang Cheng washed up and entered his bedroom, climbing into bed to sleep. Yet a faint unease tugged at him; he sat up abruptly and peered toward the darkness at the edge of the room. A shadow lingered, indistinct and shifting.

Someone was inside!

The thought flashed through Yang Cheng’s mind, and a chill raced down his spine. Even with some cultivation behind him, fear seized him, and he demanded, “Who’s there? Who’s hiding?”

His voice quivered.

“Ha, so timid,” came a contemptuous reply.

The shadow stirred, and a figure stepped forth from the gloom—a man dressed in azure robes, a wicked grin curling on his lips, his demeanor flippant and irreverent.

“Liu Changqing!” He was Liu Changqing himself!

Yang Cheng shook his head, doubting his own eyes. Yet it was unquestionably him: tonight’s stormy figure in Wuzhou, “the Rogue of Mist and Rain Liu Changqing,” who, after the tournament, had somehow slipped into Yang Cheng’s own bedroom.

His emotions churned. Liu Changqing was a supreme master; it was a privilege to cross paths with him. Yet Yang Cheng knew well how unpredictable the man was—his actions without pattern or principle. If he had come to rob or kill, Yang Cheng’s death would be utterly unjust.

“Senior Liu, may I ask the purpose of your late-night visit?” Yang Cheng steadied himself, mustering courage to probe.

Liu Changqing said nothing, his gaze appraising, amused.

“Um...” Yang Cheng, seeing his silence, wrapped the quilt tighter about himself, awkwardly said, “Senior, it’s rather late, and two grown men sharing a room is perhaps inappropriate. Why don’t I arrange another chamber for you, and we can talk at dawn? It’s best to avoid idle gossip.”

Liu Changqing’s lips twitched, and he said coldly, “No need to wait for morning. I am here tonight to take your life.” As he spoke, a jade flute appeared in his hand, and his figure flashed forward, striking straight at Yang Cheng.

“Ah!” Yang Cheng’s heart froze with terror—this was the end! Liu Changqing’s casual moves had left the Yin family’s masters bloodied and broken; Yang Cheng was no match at all—his life was surely forfeit.

He could not accept it; he had only just begun to test his skills, his career was on the rise, with so many plans yet unrealized. He had been cautious, kept a low profile, wary of attracting trouble too soon. Yet out of nowhere, Liu Changqing appeared, intent on killing him for no reason. It was a cruel fate!

As these thoughts raced through Yang Cheng's mind, a sudden crash shattered the silence—a window exploded, and a figure sped in. Steel flashed; a long sword interposed itself between Yang Cheng and Liu Changqing, blocking the jade flute just an inch from Yang Cheng’s throat.

It was Lu Baichuan, who, at the critical moment, had arrived using his Ripple Step, saving Yang Cheng.

Yang Cheng, never before so close to death, broke out in a cold sweat, frozen and unable to move. The three men stood locked in place; no one dared make another move.

“Young master! Are you alright?” Li Tianjun arrived next, having heard the sound of shattering glass. Though his cultivation was lower than Lu Baichuan’s and he lived farther away, he quickly sensed something amiss and rushed over.

Peering through the broken window, Li Tianjun saw the tense standoff and shouted, “Guards! Assassins! Protect the young master!” His voice thundered through the Yang residence, and he drew his blade to join the defense.

Lu Baichuan gestured to Li Tianjun, indicating he need not enter.

Liu Changqing withdrew his jade flute and stepped back, the cold expression giving way to playful laughter.

“No need for concern, Brother Yang. Liu is here for me,” Lu Baichuan said, sheathing his sword.

“Ha ha ha, years have passed, and your movement has grown so swift, Brother Lu,” Liu Changqing laughed. “Had you been a moment slower, this rich young master would have lost his life.”

Lu Baichuan clasped his hands. “Hardly. Even if I had not come, Brother Yang would have been safe. I know Liu’s character well—he never kills innocent or weak men.”

Yang Cheng breathed a sigh of relief, wiping sweat from his brow. So the two knew each other; he’d nearly been scared out of his wits.

As they spoke, Zhong Qiang, Wei Xu, Hua Mingzhu, and others arrived, armed and uncertain how to proceed.

Lu Baichuan reassured Yang Cheng, saying, “Don’t worry, Brother Yang. If Liu truly meant to kill you, even I could not save you.” He then turned to Liu Changqing, “Today I saw you defeat a Yin family elder with a single move. Had it been my old self, I could not have withstood ten moves against you. Even now, relying on my movement technique, I might barely last a hundred exchanges, but beyond that, I’d surely lose. ‘Rogue of Mist and Rain’ indeed—that name is no empty boast. I truly admire you.”

Yang Cheng finally understood: not only did they know each other, but they understood one another deeply. In terms of prowess, if Lu Baichuan was a top master among the Golden Core cultivators, Liu Changqing was a master among masters.

Outside, except for Hua Mingzhu, the others—Li Tianjun, Zhong Qiang, and company—had not met Liu Changqing, as they had been on duty at the Yang residence. Hearing this, they were greatly astonished. The figure who had dominated the martial world in recent months, the peerless expert, had come to their humble home. Even Lu Baichuan, a Golden Core master, admitted he could not withstand a hundred moves against him; Liu Changqing’s strength was unfathomable.

“Brother Lu, you overpraise me,” Liu Changqing replied, clasping his hands. He then pointed at Lu Baichuan's face, “It’s been years—how have you come to look like this? When I left the arena today, I saw you sitting inside the building. If I hadn’t recognized your aura, I wouldn’t have known it was you.”

He complained, “Such a rare reunion with an old friend, yet you didn’t greet me. I had to follow you myself.”

Meanwhile, the front hall was crowded; many people pressed toward the rear courtyard. Zhong Qiang glanced back and said, “Young master, the guards from the front are here, and workers from other workshops as well.”

Yang Cheng said, “Tianjun, Zhong Qiang—calm the crowd. There’s nothing amiss here; everyone’s worked hard. Go rest now, and do not spread word of tonight’s events.” He did not want too many to know of Liu Changqing’s visit; news would surely shake the city and thrust the Yang family into the spotlight.

Then he turned to Liu Changqing. “Senior Liu, perhaps we could speak elsewhere? My current posture is rather inelegant.”

Seeing the others depart, Liu Changqing did not reply, but smiled at Lu Baichuan, “You disappoint me, Brother Lu. In the old days, you in the northwest and I in the southeast, the martial world said ‘cold sword in the northwest, resounding flute in the southeast’—we were spoken of together, prompting me to travel west for a match.”

Lu Baichuan hurried to respond, “Those empty titles were bestowed by friends. After our comparison, I was no match for you, and should never have been ranked as your equal.”

Liu Changqing shook his head, “We met through battle, and I admire your character. Together we faced pursuit from a great sect, forging bonds through life and death. I have roamed the world alone, rarely meeting anyone who impresses me. Yet you, Brother Lu, once brimming with heroic spirit and deep loyalty, are one I could entrust my life to—a man worthy of my respect.”

Years ago, Lu Baichuan had been renowned in the northwest; Liu Changqing, always eager to challenge masters, had traveled there to test himself. Though Lu Baichuan was no match, his reputation among independent cultivators owed much to his chivalrous nature and wide connections, traits Liu Changqing admired.

Liu Changqing sighed, “Ah, I never expected to find you now, your heroism diminished, dwelling here. From afar today, I wondered which noble scion could attract someone of your caliber.” He glanced at Yang Cheng, disdainful. “To think it’s him...”

He looked as if he could not bear to continue, leaving Yang Cheng awkward and embarrassed. Yang Cheng forced a smile, “Senior Liu, must you be so blunt?”

Liu Changqing’s mouth twitched; Lu Baichuan laughed, “Don’t mind him, Brother Yang. Liu is always frank. After so many years, there’s much for us to discuss. I’ll take him to my quarters.”

Lu Baichuan took his leave, leading Liu Changqing to his residence, instructing Hua Mingzhu—still standing outside the door—to fetch wine and refreshments, preparing for a night of deep conversation.