Nine Nights Owl Song

On the fourth day of the twelfth lunar month in the seventeenth year of Yong'an, in Liangzhou.

Su Jiuge woke up before dawn.

She sat up from the prayer mat in the earth god temple. The old drunkard was still asleep in the corner, his breathing heavy and intermittent, like a rusty bellows, each breath accompanied by the rattling of phlegm.

Ghost Hand leaned against the opposite wall with his eyes closed, but Su Jiuge knew he wasn't asleep—his breathing was too even, so even it was unnatural. A truly asleep person wouldn't have such a regular breathing rhythm.

She calculated in her mind that there was still an hour until dawn.

She stood up silently and checked her equipment.

The straight knife hung at her waist, and the black lacquer on the scabbard had been worn away in several places, revealing the grayish-white wood underneath. She had sharpened it again with a whetstone.

The short knife, seven inches long, narrow and thin, was concealed inside the boot shaft, making it suitable for close-quarters combat.

The steel wire was wrapped around the left wrist, with wooden handles attached to both ends. When rolled up, it was only the size of a thumb, but when unfolded, it could strangle a person's throat.

The hidden weapons were concealed in the belt lining: twelve willow-leaf darts, each coated with a deadly poison that would kill instantly upon drawing blood.

The cold iron crossbow was slung on his back. It was something Bai Yu had found in the armory of the Thousand Machine Tower. It was said to be a relic of the Ministry of Works of the previous dynasty. Its range could reach 100 zhang and it could penetrate three layers of iron armor.

She opened the temple door and went out. Behind her came the old drunkard's voice, hoarse and indistinct, as if he were speaking with phlegm in his mouth:

"Come back alive."

Su Jiuge did not turn around.

"Um."

North of Liangzhou City, at the headquarters of the Blood Hall.

This time, Su Jiuge did not use the drainage ditch, climb over the wall, or sneak in from any hidden corner.

She entered through the main gate. Two guards stood at the entrance of the Blood Hall, both assassins at the mid-stage of the Dark Force realm, dressed in black tight-fitting clothes, with long swords hanging at their waists, leaning against the door frame with a bored expression.

It was still dark, and the night wind was cold. The two of them huddled together, chatting idly.

They saw a dark figure walking from the alley entrance, with a slow and steady pace, a knife hanging at his waist, and long hair blowing in the wind, resembling a black flag in the moonlight.

"Who goes there? Blood Hall is a restricted area; unauthorized personnel are prohibited from entering—"

Su Jiuge drew her sword.

A flash of light appeared in the night, so fast that it left no trace. A thin red line appeared on the throat of the guard who had spoken. He reached out to touch it, and the moment his fingers touched the line, blood spurted out like a red fountain.

The other guard reacted faster, his hand already gripping the hilt of his knife, but Su Jiuge's knife was faster than his hand. The tip of the knife pierced his throat and emerged from the back of his neck, drawing out a cloud of blood mist as it was pulled out.

The sounds of the two bodies falling to the ground rang out almost simultaneously, muffled thuds, like two bags of grain being dropped on the ground.

Su Jiuge stepped over the corpses and entered the Blood Hall.

Inside the gate was a spacious courtyard paved with bluestone, with corridors on all four sides. Behind the corridors were rows of rooms, which were more rugged in style than the Dark Pavilion Cangwu Mountain headquarters, less gloomy and more barbaric.

People in the courtyard had already been alerted. Seven or eight assassins rushed out from different directions of the corridor. Some were disheveled, some were still holding unfinished wine jugs, and some were barefoot. They had obviously been awakened by the commotion at the door.

When they saw the corpse at the door, and then the girl in black radiating a chilling aura in the center of the courtyard, some froze, some drew their swords, and some began to back away.

Before they could react, Su Jiuge charged into the crowd. The glint of blades flashed in the darkness before dawn, each flash accompanied by a scream and a cloud of blood.

She moved like a black whirlwind, swirling and weaving through the crowd, her blade unstoppable. Someone swung a knife at her; she dodged to the side, the tip of her blade plunging into the attacker's heart.

Someone attacked her from behind, but she didn't turn around; instead, she slit the attacker's throat with a backhand stroke. Someone knelt down and begged for mercy, but she walked past that person without killing them—not out of soft-heartedness, but because it wasn't worth wasting her energy on such people.

In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, six corpses lay scattered across the courtyard, and two more seriously wounded men lay groaning in pools of blood.

Su Jiuge stood amidst the corpses, covered in blood, panting heavily, her hand gripping the straight knife trembling slightly—the combined effects of adrenaline and internal energy had subjected her muscles to an immense strain in a short period.

She took a deep breath, placed her trembling hand on the hilt of the knife to steady herself, and continued walking forward.

The backyard, the council chamber. Brightly lit.

Su Jiuge pushed open the door to the council hall and saw Chen Beixuan sitting in the main seat.

He wore a black brocade robe with a white jade belt around his waist. His hair was tied up with a golden crown. He had a square face, thick eyebrows like knives, and tightly pursed lips, exuding an imposing presence even without anger.

A pot of tea and two cups were placed in front of him, the tea still steaming, as if he knew someone was coming and had specially prepared the tea in anticipation.

To his left lay a knife—a long, jet-black blade with a ruby ​​the size of a pigeon's egg set in its scabbard, which gleamed with a cold, eerie light under the lamp.

Standing to his right was a woman with a seductive figure, her face veiled in black, making it impossible to see her features.

Ghostly figure.

Su Jiuge and he faced each other across the long table in the council hall. One stood at the door, the other sat in the main seat, their gazes clashing in the candlelight.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time."

Chen Beixuan's voice was deep and steady, like a stone thrown into a deep well, its dull echo reverberating in the council hall. "From the day you killed Blood Blade and Poison Scorpion, I've been waiting for you. I knew you would come; Night Owl isn't someone who lets himself be chased without fighting back."

Su Jiuge didn't speak; her hand rested on the hilt of the knife.

"My offer is two hundred thousand taels for your head."

Chen Beixuan picked up his teacup, took a sip, and spoke slowly and deliberately.

"I'll do it myself now. Let me see if your head is worth two hundred thousand taels. But before that, I'm curious, how are you going to kill me under the Blood Hall's heavy guard? With your abilities?"

Su Jiuge looked at him.

"Your guards are lying outside."

Chen Beixuan narrowed his eyes slightly, put down his teacup, and stood up.

He was a full head taller than Su Jiuge, with a robust build and broad shoulders; he stood there like a wall.

His hand gripped the hilt of the black knife. The sound of the blade scraping against the scabbard was sharp and piercing, like something screaming.

The moment the black blade was drawn, Su Jiuge felt an immense pressure bearing down on her—it was killing intent, and also the crushing power of their cultivation levels.

The Realm of Embracing the Elixir—it is the genuine Realm of Embracing the Elixir.

"You can't kill me." Chen Beixuan walked towards her with his knife in hand, his steps neither hurried nor slow.

Su Jiuge took a step back. Not as a retreat, but to create distance and find the best opportunity to strike.

"You're only at the mid-stage of the Transformation Realm."

Chen Beixuan's voice carried a hint of disdain.

"There are two major realms between the mid-stage of Transformation Realm and the Core Formation Realm. You can't even touch the hem of my clothes."

Su Jiuge looked into his eyes, which held disdain, arrogance, and certainty.

A powerful cultivator at the Core Formation stage facing an opponent at the mid-stage of the Transformation Realm is like a tiger facing a rabbit. There is no need for any vigilance or defense; all that is needed is to raise a paw and strike.

It's that simple.

Su Jiuge gripped the knife.

In her left hand, the candlelight reflected off the blade of the knife, flickering in her dark pupils. She was thinking about one thing—the old drunkard's words:

"Don't live for revenge."

She doesn't live for revenge, but today she's killing Chen Beixuan not for revenge, but to put an end to everything. To put an end to all the past grievances, all the debts, and all the darkness.

After it's all over, she can return to Luoyang and the Marquis of Dingyuan's residence cleanly and peacefully, and live her own life.

She rushed forward.

The moment Chen Beixuan's black blade came down, Su Jiuge saw his weakness.

It's not a flaw in speed, nor a flaw in strength, but a flaw rooted in his character.

He didn't take Su Jiuge seriously.

He felt confident of winning.

This mindset made him hold back some of his strength when he struck, slowed him down a bit when he defended, and prevented him from noticing the ghostly figure moving in the corner.

Ghost Shadow's knife wasn't aimed at Su Jiuge, but at Chen Beixuan's lower back.

The change happened in the blink of an eye.

The black blade grazed Su Jiuge's shoulder, severing a lock of her hair, while at the same time, Ghost Shadow's blade pierced Chen Beixuan's waist from behind.

The knife tip pierced through the left side of the waist and exited through the right side, carrying blood and bits of flesh.

Chen Beixuan's body jolted violently, and the expression on his face changed from certainty to astonishment, and from astonishment to anger.

He turned his head and looked at the ghostly figure. For the first time, something he had never seen before appeared in those sharp, razor-sharp eyes—disbelief at being betrayed.

The ghostly figure drew her knife, took two steps back, blood still dripping from the tip. Her hand was steady, and her voice was steady as well:

"Two hundred thousand taels for Night Owl's head. Before you raised your bid, I took a job—one million taels for your head. I can't tell you who the employer is. You know the rules of our line of work."

Chen Beixuan stared at the ghostly figure for a long time.

Then he laughed, not in anger or sorrow, but in self-mockery, like a tiger stabbed in the back by its most trusted companion, only to realize on its deathbed that nothing in this world is trustworthy.

"Okay, okay, okay..."

He uttered three "good"s, his voice growing softer and softer, as blood gushed from his side, soaking his brocade robe and flowing down his legs.

Su Jiuge didn't wait for him to say the fourth one.

She stepped forward and plunged the knife straight into Chen Beixuan's heart. The tip of the knife pierced through his ribs, through his heart, and emerged from his back, drawing out a cloud of blood as it was pulled out.

Chen Beixuan swayed slightly, his hand loosened, and the black knife slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud.

He knelt down, kneeling before Su Jiuge, like a collapsing mountain.

He lowered his head, staring at the expanding pool of blood on the ground. His lips moved, whether as if he wanted to say something or it was just a reflex before death.

Su Jiuge stood there, looking down at him.

The debt owed to me has been repaid.

Chen Beixuan did not answer.

He can no longer hear.

Su Jiuge sheathed her sword. The sound of the blade scraping against the scabbard was exceptionally clear in the quiet council hall, like a sigh. She turned and walked towards the door.

Behind him, the ghostly figure stood there, still holding the blood-dripping knife in its hand.

Her face was veiled in black, obscuring her expression, but her eyes were visible.

Those eyes used to be cold and gloomy, but now they held something else in them—a kind of bewilderment she had never experienced before.

"Why are you helping me?" Su Jiuge didn't turn around.

"One million taels," the ghost said.

"Besides money?"

The ghostly figure remained silent for a long time.

Su Jiuge thought she wouldn't answer anymore.

"The Blood Hall has no rules." Her voice was hoarse and low, like a piece of iron polished with sandpaper.

"I spent over a year in the Blood Hall, killing people I wouldn't have killed before, and doing things I wouldn't have done before. Chen Beixuan said that there are no rules for assassins; you can kill whoever you want, whoever pays you. I listened to him, and as a result, I became the kind of person I hated the most."

She paused, her voice even lower.

"I want to change my way of life."

Su Jiuge stood at the entrance of the council hall, moonlight streaming in from outside, casting a long, long shadow that stretched all the way to Chen Beixuan's corpse. She did not turn around.

"Those who can leave the Blood Hall should leave, and those who can be recruited should be recruited."

Her voice was as calm as if she were talking about something unrelated to herself, "Help me handle this. Once it's done, come find me in Luojing. Qianji Tower knows where I am."

The ghostly figure stared at her backlit silhouette for a moment, then fell silent. "Okay."

Su Jiuge walked out.

She walked across the courtyard, stepping over the bloodstains and corpses that had not yet been cleaned up, through the corridor, through the gate, and out of the Blood Hall.

The sky was already turning a pale white, and a sliver of light was spreading across the horizon.

Su Jiuge stood on the street outside the Blood Hall, looking up at the sky transitioning from night to day, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

The cold air rushed into her lungs, causing a sharp, cutting pain, but her heart remained calm.

It was as still as a mirror, reflecting all the paths of the past sixteen years—from the snow-covered mass graves to the ruins of the abandoned residential area, from the training camp of the Dark Pavilion to the stone houses of Cangwu Mountain, from the prison of Luoyang to the bloody battle of Yingchoujian, from the family banquet of the Marquis of Dingyuan to the destruction of the Blood Hall in Liangzhou City.

All the paths converge at this moment.

She touched the things on her chest.

Wooden box, gold medal, jade pendant, iron medal.

The old drunkard is still alive, the ghostly hand follows her, the Blood Hall is destroyed, Chen Beixuan is dead. The Zhou family has fallen, Aunt Zhou is crippled, but there are family members in the Marquis of Dingyuan's mansion waiting for her to return.

Su Jiuge walked towards the city gate, her pace neither fast nor slow.

Behind them, Liangzhou City awoke in the morning light, and the distant mountains were gilded by the rising sun.

She didn't look back. She no longer needed to look back.

Those things that needed to be resolved have been resolved.

Ahead lies Luoyang, the residence of the Marquis of Dingyuan, that so-called home.

She quickened her pace.

It's the ninth day of the twelfth lunar month, four days to go.

She can get back in time.

She promised.