Chapter 55: Moonlight and the Fragrance of Flowers

She sheathed her blade, but Ning Xiu’s expression remained tense.
A certain intuition told him that someone was still watching from the shadows.
It was a curious feeling—although he could not detect even the faintest trace of their presence, Ning Xiu knew that if he relaxed now, it would be irreparable.
He looked up into the distance, and suddenly a flash of insight struck him. He called out, his voice clear: “Brothers of the Iron Sword Sect, you’ve been watching for so long—won’t you come out?”
Only the rustling of the night wind replied.
Ning Xiu stood in place for a while, finished searching Xiao Wanli’s corpse, then turned and departed. With a few leaps, he disappeared completely into the darkness.
After some time, a faint sound came from afar. A gust of wind swept by, and a figure darted out from the distant forest. The newcomer moved swiftly, flickering through the shadows until he landed at the very spot where Ning Xiu had been standing.
He wore the clean robes of a scholar and appeared to be around forty, genteel in demeanor—a man who looked more like a failed scholar than a martial artist.
This was Song Gaoju, known as the “Death-bringing Scholar.” His only connection with Ning Xiu was that fleeting glance across the burning river at Fengshui Creek.
Song Gaoju stared at Xiao Wanli’s corpse on the ground, his eyes grave.
“Remarkable. Had I not witnessed it myself, who could believe that one of the four grandmasters of the Lingnan martial world, the Gentleman Spear, would die here? If word of this gets out, it will cause an immediate sensation.”
He picked up the ink bamboo spear from the ground, his brows furrowing as he pondered, “This man is terrifying. So young, yet his skills are already at such a level. Whether with sword or blade, his prowess is extraordinary. If I’m not mistaken, the ghost-faced swordsman who recently appeared and then mysteriously vanished must be him, and Long’er must have died by his hand.”
Song Gaoju had previously believed that, besides the ghost-faced swordsman, there was another sword-wielding expert as accomplice. It was simply unimaginable for one person to master two utterly different weapons to such a degree.
But now, witnessing it firsthand, he had no choice but to accept the truth.
He crouched to examine the wounds on Xiao Wanli’s body, hoping to glean the secrets of Ning Xiu’s sword and blade techniques. Yet another question troubled him deeply.
Did Ning Xiu truly notice his presence earlier?
“It must have been a bluff,” Song Gaoju muttered, shaking his head as he stood. He had great confidence in his concealment skills.
But as he turned to leave, he realized a figure had somehow appeared behind him.

“It’s you!” Song Gaoju exclaimed in shock as he saw the newcomer.
Never had he expected Ning Xiu to return.
“So, you know me, brother of the Iron Sword Sect,” Ning Xiu said, glancing at the sword at Song Gaoju’s waist and curling his lips in a faint smile.
“How did you discover me earlier?” Song Gaoju’s expression steadied, his voice low. “Though I haven’t reached the grandmaster level, I pride myself on my skill at hiding my presence. Earlier, I was at least three hundred meters away from you. At such a distance, I believe no one in the Lingnan martial world could detect me—not even the four grandmasters.”
“How did you know I was there?” Song Gaoju pressed, needing an answer to the question that had plagued him since earlier.
Ning Xiu merely smiled and replied, “If I said I guessed, would you believe me?”
“I knew you wouldn’t, but that’s the truth.” Seeing the disbelief on Song Gaoju’s face, Ning Xiu spread his hands.
“But none of that matters now, because the dead need not worry.”
“You’re saying I will die?” Song Gaoju stared at Ning Xiu, his gaze turning sharp.
Though his reputation as the ‘Death-bringing Scholar’ was not as renowned as the four grandmasters, he was still a first-rate figure, his strength no less than Zhou Qunzhi’s.
“You think you can kill me?”
“I can,” Ning Xiu replied calmly.
Seeing his composure, Song Gaoju laughed in anger: “I must admit, the battle earlier showed that you’re indeed a bit stronger than me. But that was you at your peak. Now, having just fought a fierce battle, you’ve lost much of your inner power—if I were you, I’d never foolishly show myself at a time like this.”
“So really, you are the one who will die. You could have walked away alive, but chose to court death. You keep saying you’ll kill me, so why haven’t you struck yet?” Song Gaoju slowly drew his sword, his voice cold as he faced Ning Xiu.
“There’s no need,” Ning Xiu replied, glancing at the ink bamboo spear Song Gaoju had tossed aside. Suddenly he asked, “Do you smell a faint floral scent?”
“What floral scent?”

Song Gaoju paused, puzzled by Ning Xiu’s odd question at such a critical moment.
Yet, after hearing the words, he realized he truly did smell a faint fragrance.
Immediately, he sensed a slight numbness on his cheeks, lips, and hands. He looked at Ning Xiu, both startled and furious, suddenly understanding. “You coated Xiao Wanli’s corpse with poison?!”
Song Gaoju tried to lunge at Ning Xiu with his sword, but the poison’s effects surged, dissolving his strength and eroding his bones—he found himself utterly powerless.
His body swayed, and he collapsed to the ground.
Ning Xiu was impressed that Song Gaoju had lasted so long, for the poison he used was the deadly Golden Bishun Flower.
Ordinary martial artists would faint after a mere whiff, but Song Gaoju had actually touched it with his skin.
This was the foundation of Ning Xiu’s confidence.
“…You—you will die a terrible death!” At the edge of life, Song Gaoju could only utter this venomous curse.
He could never have imagined Ning Xiu would tamper with a corpse. From his perspective, Ning Xiu had simply been looting spoils—when in fact, he had been applying poison.
Death’s pallor spread across Song Gaoju’s face, and soon he lay rigid and still upon the ground.
Ning Xiu stood by, and when he was certain the man was truly dead, he drew his sword and dug a deep pit, tossing both Xiao Wanli and Song Gaoju's bodies inside.
He left the scene with a calm face, turning away.
Meanwhile, barely ten miles away, Black Wind Fortress had become a living hell.
Corpses littered the ground—there wasn’t a single survivor left in the entire fortress.
A young woman sat atop the roof, cradling her cheeks, gazing down the mountain. The cold moonlight fell upon her expressionless face, making her appear all the more distant.