239 Those Things That She Couldnst Put Down (2/2)
In that moment, Ning Que wasn't aware the young lady in white was so embarrassed and annoyed in the Black Ink Garden's camp that she was ready to liquidate her shameful emotions and unspeakable memories. If he knew, he would have been too excited and nervous to say a word. Though he was running away from the path of being nobodies, he still lacked the conscience of being an important person. Calligraphic Addict had a crush on him? Holy crap! How did this differ from Butterfly Sister liking him? The same Butterfly Sister who still wore tight pants to dance exotic dances!
It was because he didn't know these that he could be drinking tea and resting in the Tang camp at this time. He looked particularly relaxed, for it was his own place after all. Whether spiritually or physically, he could finally properly rest under protection. Unfortunately, he couldn't relax completely relax. There was still something important that needed his attention.
At night, a military order appeared in the Tang camp. General Shu Cheng convened all departments and announced the result of the proceedings of the Divine Hall that day. They also went over the specifics of the attack on the Desolate Man tribe next spring.
The order of the Middle Military Camp was somewhat peculiar. The main force responsible for attacking the Desolate Man tribe should be the elite cavalry of the Left-Tent Palace. Even if the northeast border army of the Tang Empire would join the battle, battle affairs shouldn't be discussed by General Shu Cheng and the captain officials, who lacked the qualifications to do so.
However, a military order was as heavy as the mountain in the Tang Empire. Though the cavalry stationed in the palace was beneath the Northeast Front Army, no one dared defy it because of the order from the Middle Military Camp. With intensive footsteps, captains of all levels rushed to the Middle Military Camp. The patrolling cavalry had also been deployed, leaving only defensive forces in the periphery of the camp.
Ning Que lifted the curtain and went out, moving eastward in the deserted camp. He came to a stop somewhere forty paces away from a tent and reached out to take the large, black umbrella wrapped tightly with cloth from his back.
That tent belonged to a general in the northern border army of the Tang Empire. There was a faint smell of herbs and blood coming from the tent. If his senses hadn't turned acuter after cultivation, he might not have missed the smell.
That man was still bleeding after so many days. Ning Que really had no idea know how he managed to survive.
With a flick of his wrist, Ning Que opened the umbrella.
He held the umbrella and walked over to the tent.
At twilight, the sky was dyed as red as blood as snow began to fall from the clouds hanging over the camp.
The snow was extremely little and sparse. A few snowflakes fell on the greasy surface of the umbrella, looking rather dainty.
...
...
Small snowflakes fell on the umbrella without a sound. Strong boots stepped on the withered and yellow grasses, also without a sound. Ning Que held the umbrella and walked into the vice general's tent.
He was met with a knife slashing down his face!
Like a machete, the knife had a powerful force and was as bright as snow.
The people in the tent knew he was coming, so he couldn't make a surprise attack.
Ning Que knew someone was in the tent and thus wasn't surprised by this attack either.
His lapels suddenly rising with air, he kicked his right foot as quick as lightning and heavily stomped on the attacker's thigh. With a muffled snap, the attacker curved his body like he was a shrimp. The machete missed its target and fell on the ground.
With a striking sound, Ning Que removed his slender podao from its sheath, emitting a bright light. He gently sliced the attacker's throat, causing a burst of hot blood hitting the top of the tent.
With a burst of rough wind, someone attacked him from his right. Without even turning his head, he lifted the two fingers of the hand holding the umbrella and an intangible Fu character materialized out of thin air. An inexplicable uneasiness appeared in the tent.
Another attacker from the Horse Gang clenched the machete with both hands. Borrowing the momentum from hurling himself forward, he threw himself at Ning Que with an amazing speed. It was as if he wanted to first split the umbrella and then slice Ning Que in half from above. However, when he rushed behind the umbrella, he didn't find the umbrella. Rather, he found himself in a white blazing sea of flames.
The flames in the air alternatively burned and dimmed inside the tent. The fire on the attacker's head was still burning. The machete on his hands didn't cut the umbrella or anyone, only the air.
Ning Que had long twisted his body out of the way and was waiting on the side. He watched as the attacker's face began melting and deforming in the flames. He watched as the attacker's eyes twisted in fear and his big lips opened to utter a cry. He lowered his body, wielding his knife.
He sliced the attacker, sending his burning head flying into the tent.
Blood gushed from the attacker's sliced neck, hitting the top of the tent and mixing with his comrade's blood.
With his umbrella in his left hand and knife in the right, Ning Que continued to silently walk toward the tent.
The headless corpse fell with a thud behind him.
There was not the slightest bit of emotion on his face underneath the umbrella.
Whether in the past, present, or future, he had no mercy for people from the Horse Gang or those masquerading as one.
His attacker's burning head rolled on the ground, reaching the tent. It stopped somewhere near a bed, its flames gradually dying with a scorching smell.
There was a pale middle-aged man lying on a sleeping mat looking thin and weak. His shoulder was tightly fastened with a piece of cloth. Blood was still leaking from his body and there was even a faint smell of decaying flesh.
The middle-aged man stared at Ning Que as he gradually came closer. There was a sudden gleam in his eyes and he began trembling violently all over. He seemed to be in a great deal of pain, yet also appeared to carry a strong sense of determination.
In the tent, Qi of Heaven and Earth had suddenly become disorganized. A sudden cold wind swept the place without rhyme or reason, instantly blowing away the snowflakes on Ning Que's umbrella. However, like the cold wind, his umbrella also blocked the magnificent the middle-aged man's Psyche Power, built on decades of meditation as well as the determination rising from a life-and-death situation.
Not a shred of that power could penetrate Ning Que's sense of perception at all.
”Since you were ordered to kill me, you must know very well who I am.”
Ning Que walked to the front of the middle-aged man and stared down at him. ”I admit your Psyche Power is really powerful,” he calmly said. ”But even if you're completely whole and without injuries, where did you find the courage to try and defeat a Second Floor disciple of the Academy when I'm well prepared? Not to mention you're so severely injured now.”
”And don't you feel like your broken arm is recovering too slowly? That you can't stop your wound from festering even if you keep cutting off your decayed flesh? That's because there's something on my knife.”
Ning Que raised his right arm and pointed his podao at the middle-aged man's face. The podao glowed with a cold light. Besides the complicated Talisman inscriptions, it appeared very ordinary.
”Both you and the one who ordered you to kill me knew I was a Second Floor student of the Academy and Master Yan Se's successor. That was why you managed to stop my killer movements under the meadow that day. But too bad you didn't know two things about me.”
”I've been hunting for a living since childhood and hunted many large beasts living. So I would occasionally use poison and wipe my knife with snakeroot juice from Min Mountain. It's not a particularly strong poison, but it can be troublesome.”
The middle-aged man lying on the mat looked very pale on the face. He could no longer fight back after forcing out the last Psyche Power in his sense of perception. He listened to Ning Que's calm words and fear unwittingly crept into his eyes. As a strongman in cultivation, he really didn't understand why Ning Que, a core disciple of the Headmaster of Academy, would use so many vicious methods in addition to cultivation means.
”I believe you won't have any more strength to fight now. But you're after all a Psyche Master in the Seethrough superior grade state and an important figure in the northeast border army of the Tang Empire. I need to keep my guard up. So please excuse me.”
He waved the podao in his hand, where it gleamed briefly. The middle-aged man didn't die, but a horrible bloody cut appeared on his shoulder. Even his last remaining arm left his body!
The middle-aged man tried very hard to turn and look at his shoulder, confirming his arms were all cut off. He couldn't help his sense of despair. When he felt the burning pain in his shoulder shoot up to his brain, a miserable cry escaped his lips.
Ning Que put his potao back to its sheath and found a few rags in the tent. He stuffed a rag into the middle-aged man's mouth and wrapped his shoulder wound with the rest. The wound soon stopped bleeding thanks to Ning Que's skill in wound dressing and after he dumped half a bottle of medicine on it.
He lowered his head and earnestly treated the middle-aged man. ”Earlier I mentioned there were two things you didn't know about me. The other one is that I'm a man with a flawed character.”
”Though I've just started my cultivation, I'm still not a supermundane person. There are many things I can't let go. For example, I'll be sure to take revenge now that you've tried to kill me. For example, I'll want to know the reason you want to kill me.”
He completed the wound dressing and sat next to the middle-aged man. Removing the rag from his mouth, Ning Que said, ”You'll definitely be unable to lift anything in the future. Then you must learn to put things down like stupid things like loyalty and the like.”
No one would cut the other person's arms in an interrogation by torture, but Ning Que had done so and forced the middle-aged man into a desperate situation. For him to begin asking questions at this time... It seemed to be a cold-blooded and unreasonable behavior. The truth was it was completely justified. If not for such a cold-blooded and disordered mental impact, how could he break into the mind of a cultivation strongman?
The middle-aged man closed his eyes in pain and tightly closed his withered lips. He seemed very afraid he would involuntarily reveal what Ning Que wanted to know once he opened his lips.
Ning Que looked at him and calmly said, ”It's useless to fake despair. You'll still have hope as long as you're still alive. You're still breathing so you still owe me an explanation.”
”For example, who are you?”