Chapter 92 (2/2)

Chen Zixian slowly blinked his eyes, and let go of the firewood in his left hand. His nails were full of black mud. After rubbing his left hand on the front of his clothes, he reached for the knife behind his back and raised the axe in his right hand simultaneously. He then said, looking at the pale lad who came from the wind and rain, ”You're finally here.”

Ning Que's podao was coming.

The sharp blade sharpened with the water of rice water in the Old Brush Pen Shop of Lin 47th Street for a few days was pulled lightning-fast out of the sheath. It easily cut off the old cloth that was tightly wrapped outside the sheath, the wind, the rain and the past, and eventually Chen Zixian's neck.

Chen Zixian lifted his knife, and a crisp buzzing was heard out of the collision of the two knives, while the rain was deflected from the blade.

At this point, a rush of forging sound could be heard in the front part of the lane, covering all the sound of the knives in the courtyard.

Zeng, zeng, zeng, zeng, zeng, Ning Que held the knife with two hands in the heavy rain and walked forward again with an expressionless face to split the neck, to cut off the head and to open the stomach of the other man. The podao stirred up admist the wind and the rain, to ruthlessly grind and clash with the knife and axe in the old man's hands.

Dang, dang, dang,dang, dang, the apprentices numbly sandwiched the red iron and waved the heavy hammer to strike the iron again and again next to the red stove. They did not hear anything but the raging storms outside the lane.

The m.u.f.fled sound included the noises of hissing, the cutting of robes, the falling of ax and the chopping of wrist. The firewood outside the room scattered everywhere. Just for a moment Ning Que stroked the seventeenth blade, but Chen Zixian blocked the first sixteen one.

And then the sound of the knives disappeared, only noises of the wind, the rain and chopping board were heard.

Chen Zixian fell off to the side of the firewood, with his body full of sludge stains. A few drops of blood appeared on his darkish old face, and countless cuts in the thin jacket over the stomach. The gray cotton stretched around. The middle cut, the deepest one, reaching his bones and organs, kept bleeding and flowing out body fluids of different colors.

The rain was dripping down from the roof to the firewood, to his gray hair, to his distressed wrinkles on the forehead, and then flowed on the dark cheeks, which quickly washed away the drops of the blood.

Ning Que lowered his head and slowly put away the knife. He could not help but frown looking at the sharp rise and fall, and the dangerous axe mark in his chest. He never thought that an ordinary deputy general of Tang Empire in those years still had such tough combat ability after so many years od torment and hards.h.i.+p in the bottom of the market.

Chen Zixian powerlessly looked at the lad in front with his cloudy eyes. He seemed to have a lot of sputum in his throat. He gurgled painfully, and two mouthfuls of b.l.o.o.d.y sputum were coughing out. He said weakly, ”I thought I had long been forgotten by this world.”

”You are indeed one of the strongest amongst those who have been forgotten. No one in the imperial court dared to hire you probably because you betrayed your master for the sake of glory. I don't know if you have ever regretted in these years.”

Ning Que wiped away the cold rain on the face, looking at the dying old man. ”It won't cause too much trouble if I want to kill you, since you've been forgotten by the world. Besides, I've been admitted into the Academy, so killing you is regarded as an indispensable part of the celebration, just like flowers and pigeons.”

Chen Zixian's old weak eyes were filled with bewilderment, and he whispered, ”Please give me a quick finish.”

”It 's still early, and it needs a longer time for your poor apprentices to finish the orders today.”

Ning Que took a glance at the sky where the clouds hung over the curtains of the rain and where the sun was missing. However he knew he still had a lot of time. He said in a slight voice, ”It's for my enjoyment. You've made me miserable these years, so you don't expect to die soon.”

”I have a poem to read to you,” he said calmly looking expressionless at the old man in the firewood, ”I come from the mountains and rivers. I come from Yan territory of the gra.s.sland. I come from the General's Mansion. I come to take your life.”

Upon hearing the words General's Mansion, Chen Zixian's turbid eyes suddenly became bright and his face gradually became relieved with his trembling hands subconsciously gesticulating in the wet firewood. He said in tremble, staring at Ning Que's childish face, ”So that's how matters stand. So... the general's son is still alive. You... you said... you've been admitted to the Academy. That's really good... really good. I've lived such a tired life these years... To know before my death that the son of the general is still alive... and live a good life... I can really rest in peace.”

”Who is not tired of living?” Ning Que looked down on the hollows which were made by the impact of rain upon ground, and whispered, ”I had to learn calligraphy, Mathematical Olympiad, piano and drawing and to run around on the back of mother's bike every weekend and finally get more familiar with the children s palace than my home. Am I not tired?”

Chen Zixian did not understand this dialogue. He clutched the bleeding cut, shaking his head painfully.

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