Chapter One (Continued)

The soldier sent to deliver the report was taking a long time to return, the man with the umbrella thought; he probably wouldn’t return at all. So he simply opened his umbrella and walked into the Demon Hunting Bureau.

Such a big courtyard with not a soul in sight, silent save for the plink-plink of raindrops falling on slabstones.

The man with the umbrella’s ears twitched; behind the falling rain, he became aware of every little sound:

Behind a pillar, a hand held a plumed arrow between finger and thumb, slowly putting it to bowstring.

On the second floor, several pairs of black boots softly moved along wooden planks, moving with small steps.

Looking closely, several black shadows crept over the rooftops, knife-wielding hands pressed tight to the moss, waiting for action.

The man with the umbrella’s lips curved in a light smile and he murmured, “Three, two, one—” He turned suddenly, folded his umbrella, and extended it like a sword. The tip of his umbrella instantly collided with a sword speared at him from behind. The umbrella flared open, becoming a shield. A powerful force surged from the umbrella’s surface, sending the surprise attacker flying back.

The dark figure leapt off the eaves, a silvery-white sword in hand. The sword pulsed with a dim silver-blue light. The man lifted the umbrella, conveniently blocking the down-slashing sword. The sword-wielder clearly excelled in martial arts—the surge of power from the umbrella only blasted him backward—yet his sword couldn’t pierce what looked like a flimsy paper-thin umbrella. The man holding the umbrella leisurely scanned upward, over the edge of his umbrella, until he saw two cold, ice-blue eyes.

The man with the umbrella understood clearly now. The Cloud-Light Sword. Looks like this was the Demon Hunting Bureau’s Commander Zhuo Yichen.

Zhuo Yichen met the eyes of the man with the umbrella, brows knit in displeasure. The sword blade bent as he used it to flip himself and launch straight at the man.

Zhuo Yichen dressed all in black, valiant and formidable, black hair bound high. No more than 20 years old, he had refined features but a murderous intent in the pinch between two unusual eyes, pale and blue like ash.

The soldiers prostrate atop the houses and those with bows drawn were clearly under his command. They rapidly gathered to surround the man with the umbrella.

The man smiled delicately and lifted one finger to push away the sword aimed right between his eyes. His lighthearted tone broke the stern atmosphere. “Ah, unexpectedly, the Bingyi Clan’s Cloud-Light Sword is in your hand. Commander Zhuo Yichen is remarkable.”

“A demon’s mouth is not worthy to speak my name!” Zhuo Yichen’s eyes churned with fury. He aimed the sword back at the man with the umbrella.

The man smoothly evaded the swing and continued, “Commander Zhuo, I forgot to introduce myself. These days I’m called Zhao Yuanzhou. Would it be possible, for the time being, to stop speaking of the past?”

Zhuo Yichen ignored him. His movements were direct and efficient, his attacks ruthless and deadly.

From the handle of his umbrella, Zhao Yuanzhou withdrew a sword. Then, he immediately turned the umbrella around and stabbed right at Zhuo Yichen. The umbrella opened to block Zhao Yuanzhou’s body and face. Zhuo Yichen flashed a look: his hand was already empty—his long sword under the umbrella like sliding into it as if into a scabbard.

Zhuo Yichen only felt a tingling in his wrist from the shock when his sword slipped from his hand. The umbrella closed like the mouth of a monster tidily swallowing it down. Then, the umbrella shot out and landed back in a slender hand.

Zhao Yuanzhou clutched the umbrella and casually sat atop the eaves, waving his hand to stop. “Your Demon Hunting Bureau has been desolate for eight years, rooftop tiles broken and overgrown with long grasses. Recently, there’s finally been an opportunity to rebuild. I specially came here to congratulate you, and Commander Zhuo attacks me with a sword. Ai…”

And just why had the Demon Hunting Bureau become desolate? How could the cause of that disaster have such audacity to say that? Zhuo Yichen’s eyes reddened with tears, his breaths coming fast and violent; it was as if that bloody night eight years ago stretched before him in this very moment.

“Zhu Yan, you are guilty of monstrous crimes. Today, I will get my revenge and kill you.”

“If you want to kill me that Cloud-Light sword isn’t enough.” Zhao Yuanzhou casually raised a finger and spoke a spell. The tip of his finger glowed with an indistinct golden rune. “Move.” Dozens of rooftop tiles on either side of them flew at Zhuo Yichen like fluttering flocks of black birds.

Zhuo Yichen lifted his left arm. A mass of white light formed a shield. The flying tiles struck only the light and shattered on the ground in a messy heap. He then pushed off with one foot, lifting to the air in a leap at Zhao Yuanzhou, bearing down menacingly. His clenched his empty left hand and the sword that had been hidden in the umbrella flew back into his grasp. The sword blade stirred up a billowing, turbulent cyclone of air and in the blink of an eye, Zhou Yichen stood before Zhao Yuanzhou.

The soldiers had never seen their Commander Zhuo like this, like someone gone berserk, ready to fight to the last gasp. They were in formation, but no order had been given and they dare not rush into action without command.

Zhao Yuanzhou, on the other hand, did not bat an eye. He stood, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes closed as a sword stabbed into his heart. Zhuo Yichen couldn’t figure out what trick he was up to this time, but he had been waiting for this moment for so long, for Zhu Yan to repay blood with blood. Zhuo Yichen’s thoughts of slaughter thickened, the Cloud-Light sword’s rays glowing only more magnificent…

“Commander Zhuo, spare his life! Commander Zhuo, spare him!”

The shout penetrated through the courtyard. A man, older than 40 years, dressed in the robes of an official, ran in with his hands raised. This was none other than the Deputy Commander, Situ Ming.