Legend of The Frost Blade - Chapter 7

Going out of the city and heading northwest, there is a convenient path often used by farmers for trading, having no shortage of people along both of its sides. Yan Qingqiu and Murong Ai grabbed a quick meal at a small shop before setting off again. Because of the frequent passersby, they dared not gallop their horses, making their progress slower than expected.

Yan Qingqiu asked a man who looked like a merchant about the location of “Chuichou Manor”. The man explained the way but scrutinized Yan Qingqiu with suspicion, saying: “Ning Da Laoye’s entire Clan suffered a calamity, dying unjustly ah. Now there’s no living soul left in Chuichou Manor, I wonder why this gentleman would want to go there ne?”

“I received Ning Laoye’s favor in the past, and upon hearing something has happened, I came to pay my respects.”

The merchant nodded and sighed: “Ning Laoye was a good man, but he was overly fond of wielding spears and staffs, which is presumably why he has attracted enemies.I used to sell cosmetics to the ladies of the manor, they often took good care of my business. Now Chuichou Manor is eerie and desolate, and at night, you can hear owls screeching, which is truly frightening. I heard the tenants of the manor say that it seems there are even vengeful ghosts wailing, and even the guards don’t dare to go near.”

Yan Qingqiu put on a sorrowful expression and sighed a few times.

The merchant advised: “If you two intend to pay your respects, even if you head there now, it will be dark by the time you arrive. It’s better to find an inn to rest first and go tomorrow.”

Yan Qingqiu thanked him, continuing on the road with Murong Ai.

After about two hours, the path became sparsely populated with only a few scattered thatched huts around, the road leading straight up to a low hill. At the end of the path, a dark and eerie manor was faintly visible. By now, it was late, and some rural households had already lit their lamps. The setting sun in the distance was as red as blood, and the last rays of light were fading from the horizon, but the manor remained a pitch-black mass, standing out even more starkly.

Yan Qingqiu spoke to the person behind him, “Murong Xiong, we’ll reach Chuichou Manor by the time it gets dark. The merchant from earlier said that even the grave keeper is no longer there. If that’s true, it will be easier for us to enter. Why don’t we go in through the main gate?”

Murong Ai gave a rare smile, patting the bag on his horse’s back: “Feihua Gongzi even has candles, incense, and paper money prepared. Of course we should enter with grandeur.”

“Although you and I are here due to the Ning Clan’s injustice, it is an act of great offense to the deceased, and we must still fulfill our respectful intentions.”

Murong Ai smiled again and said: “You go ahead with your respectful intentions, I won’t accompany you. What does whether Ning Mengshan died unjustly or not have to do with me?” Saying this, he walked straight ahead.

Yan Qingqiu smiled bitterly behind him—Throughout the journey, he had indeed come to comprehend the temper of the Demon Blade. One moment he was like the warm sun of spring, and the next, perhaps, he would be as cold as pouring rain. He couldn’t understand why this person was so obstinate, as if he deliberately prevented those around him from having a smooth day. Regardless if it was upstanding or malicious intentions, able to ignite an inexplicable rage after a single response from him. If it weren’t for Yan Qingqiu’s naturally remarkable patience, he would have left long ago, not caring about the murder case or whether or not he was innocent. 

The two of them climbed the slope, one in front and one behind, and soon arrived at the manor gate. 

Although Ning Mengshan was wealthy, the exterior of the manor didn’t appear ostentatious. The main gate was quite simple, the plaque also neat and tidy, a perfect reflection of the owner’s reputation. However, it had been uninhabited for a long time. The stone-paved path leading to the manor was already overgrown with weeds, which, after withering, lay scattered in clusters, giving off a desolate feeling. 

Murong Ai stood still in front of the gate, looked around to see if anyone was there, and took a few steps up the stairs. The two copper-studded doors were already locked by an Iron General. Murong Ai stretched out a hand to grasp the lock and, with a forceful twist, broke it into two pieces, then pulled out the chain and threw it aside. 

Yan Qingqiu sighed inwardly and silently apologized to the owner. Murong Ai turned and smiled at him: “You want to light incense and pay respects, come in first ba. If the sparks are seen by a passerby, you’ll certainly persuade me not to kill people recklessly again.”

Yan Qingqiu knew that this time his words made sense, so he didn’t argue. He led both horses into the gate and tied them to the porch columns, then took out the incense and candles, and followed him inside. Along the way, he casually lit a white candle from the table to light the path, clearly revealing the interior of the manor—

Chuichou Manor was not large, but it was very elegant, with exquisite furniture and sophisticated decor. However, the beams were still draped with white cloth and soul-recalling banners from the funeral, some of the walls and floor stained with brown blood. Even the broken windows remained as they were when the murder occurred, looking particularly shocking. The manor had not been cleaned for some time, and it was filled with a moldy smell, with bird droppings and rat feces everywhere. Occasionally, a wild fox searching for food would scurry through the darkness, making rustling sounds.

Yan Qingqiu felt a bit depressed, thinking about how this place was inhabited by more than twenty living people just a few months ago, and he felt a sense of sadness.

Murong Ai, however, did not look around like him. He went straight through the hall, found the garden at the back, and then stopped.

By this time, it was already completely dark. The jackdaws returning to their nests cawed above their heads, and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves added a touch of eeriness. The entire garden had been flattened, with rockeries piled in the corners and exotic flowers and plants plowed into the soil. Five or six new graves were squeezed in the middle, some large and some small. The largest grave had a tombstone that simply read, “The Tomb of Righteous Brother Ning Mengshan, respectfully erected by his younger brothers Zhao Chang, Liu Jing, and Sun Danyu.” Behind it were the graves of his wife, concubines, and children.

Murong Ai patted the tombstone, turning to look at Yan Qingqiu. 

Yan Qingqiu lit the incense and candles, muttered a few prayers, and paid his respects before burning the paper money for the Ning Clan. Although Murong Ai did not join in the ritual, he stood quietly by. Seeing that the embers on the ground began to die out, he went to the corner of the garden and found two hoes and a shovel. Arriving at Ning Mengshan’s grave, he tossed a hoe to Yan Qingqiu, smiling: “Feihua Gongzi is not wearing a white robe today, so he can surely do some hard labor ba?”

Yan Qingqiu nodded and started digging Ning Mengshan’s grave with him. This place was just a temporary resting place for the coffin, hastily buried without much effort, so Yan Qingqiu and Murong Ai quickly reached the bottom. Yan Qingqiu then found some dead branches and started a fire by the grave. 

Ning Mengshan’s coffin was made of good-quality wood. Murong Ai brushed off the damp soil from the coffin lid, broke the four corners, and with a forceful push, opened the coffin.

An overwhelming foul stench of decay instantly filled the air, making one want to vomit.

Yan Qingqiu felt like he was about to suffocate and quickly covered his nose and mouth. Murong Ai glanced at him without a smile, only nodding towards the fire: “The light is insufficient. Feihua Gongzi, could you add some more wood?”

Yan Qingqiu blushed, but secretly felt grateful. He leaped out of the grave, found more dry branches in the corner of the garden, and started another bonfire at the other end.

The tomb became bright, clearly revealing the corpse inside. Yan Qingqiu half-knelt by the edge, peering around. Despite the cold weather and the lime placed inside, Ning Mengshan had been dead for several months, and the smell was strong. Yan Qingqiu came from a different background, when had he ever endured such hardships? However, he didn’t want to show weakness at this moment, so he endured it. The coffin contained a headless male corpse, dressed in fine clothes but without any burial items, except for a silver spearhead placed beside it.

Murong Ai took a piece of firewood, examined the neck closely, then stood up and drew a hidden “Kuaiyi Qiushuang” from his waist. With a flash of silver light, he disemboweled Ning Mengshan’s corpse!

Yan Qingqiu felt a tingling numbness in his scalp, the stench was nothing compared to the nausea from this act. He stepped back two paces, his face turning pale.

Murong Ai used the tip of his sword to open the wound, sneering: “The truth cannot be faked, and the fake cannot be true. If I had killed Ning Mengshan, he wouldn’t have suffered like this.”

Yan Qingqiu was filled with uncertainty and stared at him, puzzled.

Murong Ai leapt onto the ground, wiping “Kuaiyi Qiushuang” clean, and after a quick pass over the fire, he sheathed it. He said to Yan Qingqiu: “The ‘Green-Robed Marquis’ had all his ribs shattered. If we talk about the method of death, it was not the result of a single thrust from the Throat-Sealing Sword technique”

Yan Qingqiu was shocked: “If his ribs were shattered, how did his friends not notice when they recovered the body?”

“Has Feihua Gongzi never heard of the kungfu technique called ‘Mian Li Zhen’?”

Yan Qingqiu frowned and said: “Could it be the evil art practiced by Tang’s son-in-law, Xiao Chundi, who married into the clan ten years ago?”

Murong Ai’s face had a disapproving look: “Kungfu is something that is practiced by all, with the same goal but different methods. There’s nothing inherently evil about them. Practicing the Great Vajra Finger for killing isn’t considered an evil art, is it? Xiao Chundi was a martial arts enthusiast with great courage, willing to reverse the energy flow of his meridians to practice ‘Mian Li Zhen,’ making him quite an extraordinary person.”

Yan Qingqiu knew that Murong Ai’s views differed from those of ordinary people, so he didn’t argue much, only saying: “Isn’t ‘Mian Li Zhen’ a technique used by experts in the usage of heavy weapons ba? Why is it related to Ning Mengshan’s death?”

Murong Ai smiled: “It seems that the righteous sects of the Central Plains really do not understand this so-called ‘evil art.’ ‘Mian Li Zhen’ is actually a type of internal skill. Practitioners can infuse extremely dark and serene internal energy into blunt weapons, or channel it into their palms and fists. When engaged in combat, it becomes a deadly technique. However, this internal energy is vastly different from typical brute force. Instead of breaking bones and limbs on impact, it penetrates the body and harms the five organs and six viscera. The better one practices this art, the longer the internal energy remains hidden, often causing the victim succumb to their severe injuries hours or even days later. This technique was originally practiced by assassins in the imperial court, its usage dedicated towards assassinations, and later spread to Jianghu.”

“Are you saying, Murong Xiong, that Ning Mengshan was actually killed by ‘Mian Li Zhen’?”

“Exactly. Though his flesh has decayed, his skeleton is still intact. Upon closer examination, his sternum and ribs are shattered to bits, but the fragments are relatively uniform in size. When I cut just now, the bones were still intact but crumbled completely upon touch. This is precisely due to ‘Mian Li Zhen.’ To achieve such damage to the bones and have the internal energy linger for so long, the practitioner must have reached the pinnacle of perfection.”

“Putting it that way, Ning Mengshan was actually ambushed long before his beheading?”

Murong Ai nodded: “Correct, he was likely struck down about half a month ago.The so-called ‘Throat-sealing Sword’ was just someone trying to paint a tiger but ending up with a dog. I examined his neck and found a sword wound, but no marks on the neck bone. You should know that my fatal move drives force three cùn deep. After penetrating the flesh, it first shatters the throat bone, then pierces the neck bone, but does not go through the back of the neck. Because the sword tip becomes stained with blood, it is called the ‘Blood-Drinking Sword Technique’. To replicate this level of force precisely is quite difficult.”

Yan Qingqiu heard the undisguised pride in his voice but did not expose it. He just felt that this investigation only deepened the mystery: “If Ning Mengshan had already fell victim to treacherous hands half a month ago, why did someone kill his whole family and decapitate him later ne? And why deliberately imitate Murong Xiong’s techniques? What is the motive behind this?”

Murong Ai shook his head: “You’re asking me, then who should I ask? It seems this matter could have been done by two groups, just in succession, each possibly with its own agenda.”

Yan Qingqiu thought for a moment, hesitated, and said: “Since we have discovered suspicious circumstances around Ning Mengshan’s death, it can’t be guaranteed that the others are similar. Do we really need to……”

“Do we really need to open the coffins and examine the bodies one by one?”

Murong Ai anticipated his words and did not shy away. He straightforwardly said: “In my opinion, that’s exactly what we should do. In fact, we don’t need to examine all thirteen bodies— just checking five or six should be enough to see if the same method was used.”

The thought of secretly doing such a grim task made Yan Qingqiu feel nauseated, even though he knew it was necessary. Murong Ai’s sharp eyes quickly noticed his thoughts and mocked: “Feihua Gongzi, are you calculating how many pairs of incense and how much paper money to prepare?”

Yan Qingqiu, usually mild-tempered, finally felt a bit annoyed but only responded calmly: “Indeed, Murong Xiong, please inform me in advance how many graves you need to dig. I wouldn’t want to be dragged into debt by the aggrieved spirits when I’m buried in the future.”

“What debt from you, if anyone needs to settle a score, it should be with me.”

“Ghosts fear wicked people, which remains an unchanging fact throughout the ages.”

After saying this, Yan Qingqiu expected Murong Ai to be furious, but after a while, he saw him smiling contentedly.

Seeing Yan Qingqiu’s doubtful gaze, Murong Ai didn’t say much, just pointed at the open coffin and said: “Since we need to check the others, let’s let Master Ning rest in peace now ba.”

He went back into the grave and moved the coffin lid back into place. Yan Qingqiu was about to fill the grave with his shovel when he saw Murong Ai reach to take something from the foot of the corpse and hold it up to the light for a closer look. an Qingqiu leaned in and saw it was a piece of wood, seemingly a fragment of some object, about half the size of a palm, with intricate carvings. Curious, he asked what it was.

Murong Ai, however, looked serious and did not answer. After examining it for a moment, he put the wooden fragment into his sleeve and closed the coffin as usual. Yan Qingqiu knew that Murong Ai would speak when he was ready, and if he did not want to talk, he would be as tight-lipped as a clam. Therefore, he stopped asking questions and silently helped to restore Ning Mengshan’s grave to its original state. 

After all this, most of the night had passed, and it was nearly dawn.

Murong Ai flattened the last shovel of soil, stomped out a bonfire, patted the dirt off his body, and said with disdain: “The smell here is really unpleasant, no wonder Feihua Gongzi keeps his distance. How about we find a place to wash up now?”

Yan Qingqiu smiled: “In the dead of night, in this deserted house, where can we find a place to clean up?”

Murong Ai, while discarding the shovel, smiled: “There’s no one on the road at midnight. How about we ride quickly back to Zhuozhou and find a brothel to rest?”

“Why go to a brothel to wash up and rest?”

“The madam of the brothel loves money more than an ordinary innkeeper. Besides, after spending the night with skeletons, wouldn’t Feihua Gongzi prefer to hold a warm, soft beauty?”

Yan Qingqiu was stunned for a moment and then burst into laughter: “It seems that Murong Xiong understands what I want. Truly a meeting of the minds.”

Murong Ai said no more. He turned, with a slight smile at the corner of his mouth, and led the way out the door.

FOOTNOTES

Objects

Iron General: The phrase “铁将军” (Iron General) is a metaphorical expression used in Chinese to describe a strong and secure lock.

White Cloth and Soul-Recalling Banners: Items used in traditional Chinese funerals. White cloth is often used for draping and decorating, symbolizing mourning, while soul-recalling banners (招魂幡) are used to call back the spirits of the deceased.

Other

Cùn: An inch

Mian Li Zhen: “A Needle In Cotton”

Five organs and Six Viscera: “五脏六腑” (wǔ zàng liù fǔ), a general term for all internal organs in traditional Chinese medicine.

Great Vajra Finger: The Great Vajra Finger is likely a reference to the Vajra Mudra, a hand gesture used in various spiritual and yoga practices. In Sanskrit, “Vajra” means “thunderbolt” or “diamond,” symbolizing unbreakable strength and powerful force. The Vajra Mudra involves extending the index finger while pressing the other three fingertips against the thumb. The extended index finger represents the Vajra, a mythical weapon associated with Indra, the god of thunder. It symbolizes the transformation of ignorance into wisdom and the firmness of spirituality.

“Trying to paint a tiger but ending up with a dog”: An idiom means that someone attempted to imitate something impressive (like a tiger) but failed and ended up with something inferior or laughable (like a dog).