My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Ye Qingfeng sat on the edge of the couch, her face covered by a red veil, and remained motionless.

He was just about to make his move when this man burst in.

His swordsmanship was extremely sharp, fast, accurate, and ruthless, without any fancy moves, all of which were purely for killing.

Although the five monks were slow to react due to their drunkenness, they still couldn't dodge the knife even if they were sober—it was too fast.

The one wielding the knife was a man dressed in black, tall and slender, with his hair tied up in a tight-fitting outfit, and a leather bag hanging from his waist.

He sheathed his sword at that moment, his back to the candlelight, so his face was not visible.

The man in black glanced at the corpses on the ground, and only after confirming that there were no more survivors did he turn to the bedside.

The bride was still sitting there, her red veil motionless, seemingly stunned.

She lowered her voice, her tone clear and cold: "Don't be afraid, I'm here to save you."

Ye Qingfeng looked at her through the red veil without saying a word.

This sound... is not right.

Although she deliberately kept her voice low and husky, it still had a touch of the clear, melodious quality that belonged to a woman.

female?

Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly heard footsteps coming from the corridor.

Someone is coming.

The woman in black had obviously heard it too.

She glanced at the corpse on the ground—there was no time to clean it up.

Five corpses lay strewn about, blood flowing everywhere. The hall reeked of alcohol mixed with the stench of blood; any fool who entered would immediately sense something was amiss.

The footsteps grew closer.

Just as Ye Qingfeng was about to get up, the woman suddenly rushed towards him!

"Don't move!"

She stepped onto the couch, pressed down on him, and covered his mouth with one hand.

Ye Qingfeng's eyes widened instantly.

She pressed down on him.

The woman's body pressed against him tightly through two layers of clothing.

The touch against my chest was soft and warm, with a faint scent of soapberry.

Her hand covered his mouth; her fingers were long and strong, with distinct knuckles, and thin calluses on the base of her thumb, the result of years of holding a knife.

The footsteps stopped at the door.

"Hey you guys, why are you all so quiet today?"

A rough, hoarse voice came from outside the door.

It was another monk.

He stood outside the door and listened for a while, but there was no sound from inside the hall.

He chuckled twice and muttered to himself, "These bastards are having a blast, not even making a sound... Well, maybe it'll be my turn next time?"

The footsteps faded into the distance, heading towards the other end of the corridor.

After waiting a few more breaths and confirming that the monk would not return, the woman in black removed her hand from her mouth.

She sat up and looked down at the "bride" she was pressing down on the couch.

The candlelight shone from behind her, casting alternating shadows on her face.

Ye Qingfeng finally saw the face clearly.

He had handsome features, sharp lines, and a slightly dark complexion from years of travel.

She was clearly a woman, yet she possessed a heroic spirit that most men lacked.

Those eyes were looking at him right now.

To be precise, looking at "Cui Gu" was a somewhat complicated expression.

She suddenly lowered her voice and said in a tone that only the two of them could hear:

"I am a woman."

Ye Qingfeng's face showed no change in expression.

—He already knew.

But at this moment, he is "Cui Gu," a peasant woman who has been terrified and shouldn't know these things.

Otherwise, what just happened will only make things more awkward for both of them.

So he opened his eyes wide, and at the right moment, his eyes revealed confusion and fear.

Seeing that the village girl didn't speak, Shen Zhaoyue assumed she was just frightened and didn't think much of it.

She rolled off the bed, glanced at the corpse on the floor, frowned, and whispered:

"It's not safe here. Stay put and don't go anywhere. I'll go outside and scout things out, then I'll come back and take you away."

Ye Qingfeng looked at her.

This woman possessed a unique quality, neither the rough and unruly air of ordinary江湖人 (jianghu people) nor the arrogant air of government officials.

She speaks crisply and acts decisively. Knowing that the temple is dangerous, she still risks her life to help a village girl she doesn't know.

interesting.

Seeing that he still didn't speak, Shen Zhaoyue assumed he was still afraid, so she softened her tone:

"Don't be afraid. I'm from the government, here to investigate a case. Just listen to me, and I'll make sure you get down the mountain safely."

After saying that, she didn't linger any longer, rushed to the door, and peeked out through the crack.

The corridor was deserted.

She opened the door, slipped out, and disappeared into the night.

The door closed gently.

Ye Qingfeng sat up and looked down at the slightly disheveled jacket and skirt.

With a flick of his sleeve, he reverted to his true form.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression complex.

That was indeed unexpected.

He got up and walked over to the bodies.

Five monks, each stabbed in the throat or back of the neck, died instantly, their blood already pooling on the ground.

The knife was incredibly fast, and the edges of the wound were perfectly smooth.

He could sense that the other party had no cultivation within them.

A mortal body, yet possessing such swordsmanship.

This is truly rare!

But have the government officials also noticed this place?

Ye Qingfeng paused, a thoughtful look flashing in his eyes.

Suddenly, there was a noise outside the door.

Very lightly, with each step a pause, as if testing the waters.

He frowned slightly and dispersed his consciousness.

In the corridor outside the door, a monk was inching his way in, hugging the wall.

It was the same monk who had asked outside the door, "Why are you all so quiet today?"

He obviously hadn't gone far; he probably felt something was wrong and turned back to check.

The monk walked to the door and stopped.

Candlelight shone through the crack in the door, along with a faint, lingering smell of blood.

He sniffed and his expression changed.

wrong.

How could there be no sound at all during that?

Even if those few are having a really wild time, there should still be some commotion.

But even after he stood there for a long time, not a single sound came from inside.

Now there's a bloody smell again...

His heart raced, and he reached out to push the door open.

The door was ajar, but it opened with a push.

The candlelight shone out and onto his face.

He squinted and looked towards the edge of the bed—

There was no one in front of the bed.

Only five corpses lay on the ground, blood flowing everywhere.

The monk's pupils constricted, and he opened his mouth to shout—

Then he saw the person standing by the tatami mat.

He wore a gray-blue Taoist robe, a whisk draped over his arm, and his young face was expressionless.

It's not that village girl.

It's a man.

The monk's mouth was already open, and the cry of "Guards!" was about to burst out of his throat—

Ye Qingfeng looked at him and suddenly smiled.

The smile was faint, as if he were looking at something insignificant.

"Shhh."

He raised his right hand, joined his index and middle fingers together, and gently touched the monk.

A wisp of golden-red spark drifted from the fingertip.

The spark was extremely small, as thin as a mosquito's buzz, and it drifted slowly, swaying gently like a firefly in the night wind.

The monk watched the spark drift towards him, wanting to dodge, but his legs felt like they were nailed to the ground, unable to move an inch.

I tried to shout, but found that no sound came out of my throat.

A spark landed between his eyebrows.

There was no burning pain, no sound of flesh burning.

He only felt a slight warmth between his brows, and then—

He knew nothing more.

The monk's body remained standing, his mouth agape as if he were about to shout.

But the golden-red spot between his eyebrows had spread, starting from his head, down to his limbs, and to every inch of his skin.

Silently.

There were no flames rising, no smoke billowing.

He just stood there, inch by inch, turning into nothingness.

First the skin, then the flesh, then the bones—not burned to ashes, but completely vanished, as if they had never existed.

After three breaths, only a wisp of very faint blue smoke remained on the spot.

A gust of wind blew in through the crack in the door, and the wisps of smoke dissipated.

Ye Qingfeng withdrew his hand and turned to look at the five corpses on the ground.

He pointed his fingers like a sword and made a vague slash towards the pile of corpses.

Golden-red flames flowed from his fingertips, like a stream overflowing a riverbank, silently covering the five corpses.

The same thing happened again.

The corpse vanished inch by inch, starting from the edge. Flesh, bones, clothes, bloodstains—all turned to nothingness in that golden-red light.

There was no burnt smell, no smoke, and even the smell of blood was wiped away.

Three more breaths.

The ground was empty.

The five corpses vanished without a trace, leaving not even a drop of blood behind.

The ground was even cleaner than the surrounding area, as if it had been carefully washed with water and then wiped dry with a cloth.

Ye Qingfeng looked down.

He recalled a phrase—to destroy evidence.

Using Samadhi Fire for this task would be a waste of its potential.