Nine Nights Owl Song

Spring of the thirteenth year of Yong'an.

Ah Jiu is twelve years old.

Five years have passed since she left the Cangwu Mountain training camp. In those five years, she has grown from a thin, wounded child into an even thinner, scarred teenager.

She hadn't grown much taller; she was short for her age, with a slender frame and long limbs, looking like a withered branch that could snap in the wind at any moment. But only those who had witnessed her power knew what kind of strength was hidden within that withered branch.

Over five years, she completed seven assassination missions.

The first target was a salt merchant, surrounded by seven layers of guards in his mansion in Bingzhou. Ajiu disguised herself as a maid delivering vegetables, poisoned the salt merchant's soup, watched him bleed from all seven orifices and die, then crawled out through a dog hole and disappeared into the night.

The second target was a retired court official living in a manor outside Luoyang. When Ajiu climbed over the wall, she stepped on a dry branch, alerting the guards. She was chased by seven or eight burly men for two blocks. She hid in a pigsty, soaked in the excrement for half an hour, and only climbed out after the pursuers dispersed. Then she returned to the manor and carried out the assassination in the official's outhouse.

She vomited for a long time after she got back that time.

It wasn't because of murder, it was because the excrement was too smelly.

The third time, the fourth time, the fifth time...

Each mission was more dangerous than the last, and the targets were more heavily guarded each time, yet she completed them all with increasing skill. Her methods became more refined, her plans more meticulous, and her retreat routes more precise.

In the Dark Pavilion's mission file, her mission record had seven words written on it: "Completed, no witnesses."

She completed seven missions without a single failure, leaving no survivors and never letting anyone see her face.

Such an achievement is unprecedented in the history of the Dark Pavilion.

Especially in a twelve-year-old child.

March 9th, the main altar of the Dark Pavilion.

Deep within the Cangwu Mountains lies a cluster of buildings built against the mountainside, with black stone walls and blue tiles on the roofs. Hidden in the thick fog and dense forest, nothing can be seen from the outside. Only when you get close can you see the low-lying buildings, like a pack of lurking wild beasts.

The headquarters of the Dark Pavilion is located here.

Ajiu stood in front of the main hall of the headquarters, wearing a black short tunic in the style of the Dark Pavilion, with a narrow-bladed straight sword hanging at his waist. The scabbard was undecorated, pitch black, like a sleeping black snake.

Her hair was much longer than before, tied back with a black cloth strip, revealing her pale face and those perpetually cold eyes.

Five years have passed. Her features have matured somewhat; her brow bones are high, her nose is straight, her lips are thin and tightly pressed, and her jawline is sharp. If she washed her face and changed into nice clothes, she would probably be a pretty young woman. But no one has ever seen her with her face clean; she always looks unremarkable, like a speck of dust embedded in a crack in the wall.

"Come in," came an aged voice from the main hall.

Ah Jiu pushed open the door and entered.

The main hall was small, and its furnishings were so simple they were almost shabby.

A long table, two chairs, and a landscape painting hanging on the wall, its brushstrokes dry and lifeless, like a crumpled piece of waste paper.

An old man sat behind the long table.

He looked to be in his seventies or eighties, with sparse, gray hair, age spots all over his face, and a thin frame wrapped in a gray Taoist robe.

His eyes were half-closed, as if he might fall asleep at any moment, and his whole being exuded an old and decaying aura, like an old object that had been forgotten in a warehouse for too long.

But Ajiu knew that this old man was the master of the Dark Pavilion—the King of the Underworld.

The old drunkard's junior brother, his enemy who had been hunting him down for thirty years, and the true controller of the Dark Pavilion.

Hades slowly opened his eyes, and Ah Jiu's figure was reflected in his cloudy pupils.

"Seven missions, all completed, without a single failure." Hades' voice was slow and deliberate, like an old ox pulling a plow through mud. "You are only the second person in the history of the Dark Pavilion to achieve this at the age of twelve."

Ajiu didn't say anything.

"The first one is your master," Hades said. "Yin Wuji, who completed nine missions at the age of twelve."

Ah Jiu's eyelids twitched, but she quickly regained her composure.

"You're twice as bad as him," said Hades, "but that's enough."

He pulled a silver token from under the long table, placed it on the table, and pushed it in front of Ajiu.

The token is made of silver, about the size of a palm, with a black lotus flower engraved on the front and the words "Silver Token" engraved on the back.

"From today onwards, you are a silver-ranked assassin of the Dark Pavilion," Hades said. "Code name—Night Owl."

Night owl.

Ah Jiu looked down at the token, but didn't reach out to take it.

"Silver-ranked assassins are entitled to choose their own codenames," Hades said. "This codename is one I chose for you: Night Owl. It signifies nocturnal activity, silence, and an ominous presence. It suits you perfectly."

Ah Jiu reached out and picked up the silver medal.

The silver medal felt cold and heavy in my hand, much heavier than the guiding plaque that Ghost Hand had given her back then.

She tucked the silver medal into her bosom, right next to the wooden box left by the old drunkard. The two pieces of metal clinked together, making a soft sound.

"Go down." Hades closed his eyes again. "Your next task will be issued in three days."

Ah Jiu turned around and walked towards the door.

The moment her hand touched the door, Hades' voice came from behind her, tinged with a faint chuckle: "Yin Wuji taught you for four years, and the Dark Pavilion taught you for five. Guess who you're more like?"

Ajiu did not turn around.

"I'm not like anyone else," she said.

The door closed behind her.

Hades opened his eyes, looked at the tightly closed door, and a glint of light flashed in his cloudy eyes.

"Not like anyone?" he murmured to himself, a slow smile playing on his lips. "That would be even better."

---

Ajiu left the main altar and walked back along the mountain path.

Her residence wasn't at the main altar, but rather a secluded stone house on the mountainside further out—the kind of treatment reserved for a silver-ranked assassin. From there, one could see the sea of ​​clouds over Cangwu Mountain; at sunrise, the clouds were dyed golden-red, a scene of breathtaking beauty.

She had never seen a sunrise.

She would get up before dawn every day to practice her skills, sharpen her blades, and study intelligence on the mission objectives. Her life was like a wound-up machine—precise, repetitive, and utterly uneventful.

The same applies today.

She returned to the stone house, placed the silver plaque on the table, then sat cross-legged and began to regulate her breathing.

Five years have passed, and her internal strength has broken through from the fifth level to the seventh level. The Dark Pavilion's techniques are far more profound than the "Basic Internal Strength Manual" that the old drunkard taught her. She learned the Dark Pavilion's "Netherworld Heart Sutra," an extremely yin and cold internal strength technique. When practiced to a high level, it can lower body temperature to a near-death state, conceal one's aura, and remain silent.

She learns very quickly.

It wasn't because she worked harder than everyone else—though she certainly did—but because her constitution was naturally suited to this extremely yin and cold cultivation method. What others needed a year to feel the chill, she achieved in just one month. What others needed three years to overcome, she broke through in a year.

The instructors in the Dark Pavilion whispered among themselves that she was a born assassin, a once-in-a-century talent.

Ah Jiu doesn't care about these things.

All she knew was that she was still very, very far from achieving her goal of destroying the Dark Pavilion.

Hades' martial arts skills are unfathomable; with her current strength, she probably couldn't even withstand a single move from him.

She needs to be stronger.

Three days later, a new task came down.

The target was a man named Chen Heting, the quartermaster of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun in the northern border, responsible for supplying provisions and supplies to the garrison in the north. This man embezzled military pay and lined his own pockets, resulting in countless soldiers in the north freezing and starving to death. The imperial court had long wanted to kill him, but he had been cultivating his power base in the north for many years and was deeply entrenched, making it impossible to touch him.

So someone found the secret chamber.

Remuneration – 30,000 taels of silver.

"This task is very difficult." Ghost Hand handed the dossier to Ajiu, his expression more serious than usual. "Chen Heting's residence is in Yunzhou, a major town in the northern border. He has a private guard of two hundred men, all of whom are veterans who have retired from the battlefield. They are experienced in many battles and are not comparable to ordinary guards. Moreover, he himself knows martial arts and is said to have reached the peak of internal strength."

Ajiu took the file and turned to the first page.

The document contained detailed information about Chen Heting—his age, place of origin, family members, living habits, layout of his residence, guard shift schedule, eating habits, and even the time he went to the toilet every morning.

The Dark Pavilion's intelligence system is unparalleled.

"The reward of 30,000 taels of silver is the highest among silver-ranked missions," Ghost Hand said. "If you're not confident, you can give up. Silver-ranked assassins have the right to refuse missions."

Ajiu closed the file.

"No need," she said. "I'll go."

Ghost Hand glanced at her but didn't say anything more.

He had known Ajiu for five years and knew that this girl never did anything without being sure of success. Her saying she would go meant that she already had a plan.

"When are we leaving?"

"tonight."

Yunzhou, an important town in the northern border region.

It took Ajiu twelve days to travel from Cangwu Mountain to Yunzhou.

She arrived at dusk, just before the city gates were about to close. She mingled among a group of merchants rushing into the city, and walked into Yunzhou City with her head down.

Chen Heting's mansion was located in the north of the city, occupying an entire street. It was surrounded by high walls and deep courtyards, with strict security. Four guards stood at the gate, each with a curved sword at their waist. They were all burly and had sharp eyes, clearly veterans of battle.

Ajiu did not approach.

She walked around the Chen residence three times, memorizing every alley, every corner, and every possible entrance and exit. Then she found a teahouse with a view of the back gate of the Chen residence, sat on the second floor by the window, ordered the cheapest tea, and slowly sipped it.

She is waiting.

Wait until it gets dark.

Waiting for Chen Heting to return home.

According to the intelligence in the case file, Chen Heting would return to his residence from the military camp every evening, passing through the north gate and riding in a sedan chair carried by four men, accompanied by twelve guards, six in front and six behind, and two personal guards, one on the left and one on the right.

When the sedan chair passed through North Gate Street, it would pass through a relatively narrow section of road where the houses on both sides were close together and the rooftops could be used to hide people.

Ah Jiu took a liking to that place.

it's dark.

One by one, the lights in Yunzhou City lit up, and the number of pedestrians on North Gate Street gradually decreased. Ajiu squatted on the roof of a cloth shop, shrinking into the shadow of the roof ridge, draped in a black oilcloth, blending into the night.

Her breathing was extremely light and slow, and her heart rate dropped to less than thirty beats per minute. This was the effect of the "Netherworld Heart Sutra"—her body temperature was now nearly two degrees lower than normal, and not a trace of heat emanated from her body. Even top experts would find it difficult to detect her presence using their hearing and smell.

I waited for about half an hour.

Footsteps and the dull thud of a sedan chair hitting the ground came from afar.

Chen Heting is back.

The sedan chair came from the south side of North Gate Street, with six guards leading the way and six guards bringing up the rear. On each side of the sedan chair was a personal guard, with their hands on the hilts of their swords and their eyes scanning the rooftops and alleyways on both sides.

Ajiu didn't move.

The sedan chair drew closer and closer.

Fifty feet.

Thirty zhang (approximately 33 meters).

Ten zhang (approximately 33 meters).

The moment the sedan chair passed beneath the cloth shop, Ajiu moved.

She didn't jump.

She slid silently down from the roof, sliding along the wall like a snake, stopping about ten feet off the ground. Her feet braced against the wall, and she hung horizontally in the air, parallel to the ground.

Then she let go.

The moment she landed, her knees bent, absorbing all the impact without making a sound. She landed directly behind the sedan chair, in the blind spot of the rear guards.

Ah Jiu ignored the guards.

Her target was the person inside the sedan chair.

She drew her narrow-bladed straight sword from her waist with her right hand, grabbed the back rail of the sedan chair with her left, and pressed herself against the back wall of the sedan chair like a gecko. The sedan chair curtain was right in front of her, and through the thin silk cloth, she could hear the breathing inside the sedan chair—steady, powerful, the breathing of a martial artist.

Chen Heting was inside.

Ajiu's knife pierced the sedan curtain.

It pierced the back of the neck of the person in the sedan chair precisely and silently.

That location, between the first and second cervical vertebrae, is called the "Dumb Gate Point." If this point is punctured, a person will instantly lose all ability to move, unable to even shout, and will die within ten breaths, silently.

The tip of the knife pierced two inches in, then was gently turned.

A very faint sound, like a sigh, came from inside the sedan chair.

Then there is no more.

Ah Jiu drew his knife, wiped the blood off the sedan curtain, then let go, slid off the back rail of the sedan, and silently disappeared into the alley next to it, close to the ground.

The entire process, from her leaving the rooftop to disappearing into the alley, took no more than five breaths.

The sedan chair continued to move forward for about ten steps before the porters realized something was wrong—the sedan chair had become lighter.

No, it's not that it's become lighter, it's that the person inside has lost their strength.

"My lord?" The bodyguard lifted the sedan curtain.

Chen Heting slumped in the sedan chair, a small wound on the back of his neck, blood flowing all over his back and soaking the sedan chair cushion.

"There's an assassin—"

Shouts exploded in the night sky of Yunzhou City.

But Ajiu had already left the city.

She scaled the city wall and landed in the moat outside the city. She swam to the other side in the icy water, climbed out, shook the water off her hair, and then disappeared into the night without looking back.

The lights of Yunzhou City grew farther and farther away behind her, becoming dimmer and dimmer, until they finally turned into a faint halo on the horizon.

Ajiu walked back to Cangwu Mountain at a moderate pace.

Her clothes were still dripping wet, and the night wind was biting cold.

But her heart was warm, and the Qi in her dantian was circulating, transforming the cold Qi into internal energy, washing over her meridians again and again.

She touched the silver medal in her arms.

Night owl.

She didn't like the code name, but she admitted it was appropriate.

The night owl is a nocturnal creature, silent and stealthy; its sight is considered an ominous sign.

She had seen owls. In the abandoned neighborhood, she often heard their calls at night—hoo-hoo-hoo, like someone crying. Those birds had monkey-like faces, round yellow eyes, and their wings flapped silently; you wouldn't even notice them flying over your head.

They hunt without even a breeze.

Ah Jiu thought that she and Night Owl were indeed very similar.

They are all hunters in the night, silently taking lives, and are beings no one welcomes.

The only difference is that Night Owl was born a Night Owl, while she was forged into this form by human hands.

Ajiu stopped and looked up at the sky.

The moon was round and bright, hanging in the sky like a giant silver plate. The moonlight shone on her wet face, making her features exceptionally clear—pale, hard, without a trace of softness.

She lowered her head and continued walking forward.

Behind me is Yunzhou City, and in front of me is Cangwu Mountain.

To the left is a bottomless abyss, and to the right are sheer cliffs.

She had no other choice.

From the moment she stepped into the Dark Pavilion at the age of seven, she knew that this was a path she could only walk alone into the darkness.

From this night onward, the name of the Night Owl will be known throughout the world.

The real her, the girl named Ajiu, had long since died.

He died in the snowstorm in the abandoned residential area.

He died in a crevice in the Cangwu Mountains.

He died in the silence as Ayao fell.

What's alive now is just a code name.

Night owl.