The Blade-Wielding Legend
Chapter 219 - 156: The Start of Resentment

Chapter 219: Chapter 156: The Start of Resentment

Qingyuan Building, despite being a brothel, was elegantly furnished in its private rooms.

Light drapes hung from the carvings of the window lattices, with the antique furnishings and walls filled with calligraphies and paintings, exuding delicate tea fragrance from a table.

One side faced the street, where winter’s snowflakes covered Chang’an.

On the opposite side, looking out, below was a pond with vapor ripples, a snow-covered rockery, and a play pavilion in the middle of the water with a green-tiled roof and corners soaring upward.

Inside the pavilion, the sounds of fish drums, cloud-filled wooden boards, and the Banhu intertwined as an old man vigorously played the erhu, singing, "From Mystical Sect of Zhongnan Mountain I came, each day I lift my hands to partake the Dao, the meals of thousands sustain me, the boundless Dharma I chant..."

The lyrics, ancient yet elegant, belonged to the Daoist play "Selling the Daoist Robe," which tells of Han Yu’s grand celebration on his sixty-fourth birthday, where the already transcended Han Xiangzi disguises as a messy Daoist boy to pay respects and sell the Daoist robe as a treasure.

Amid laughter, it was all to enlighten Han Yu.

Later recognizing each other, Han Yu asked when they would meet again.

Han Xiangzi replied with a smile, only should the "snow block the horses at Lan Pass."

Confused at first, Han Yu later got demoted due to his objection to welcoming Buddha’s relic. While reaching Qinling’s Lan Pass, he saw a figure approaching from the snow—Han Xiangzi, who asked with a smile, "Do you remember the poem?"

Han Yu sighed deeply, reciting, "With royal petitions reaching the highest heavens, by dusk demoted to remote Chaozhou, to rid of corruptions for an enlightened realm, why should one preserve a deteriorating age? Clouds cover Qinling, what’s left of my home? Snow blocks Lan Pass, stopping my horse. Knowing you come from afar must be intentional, take care to collect my bones by the malarial river."

This poem was titled "Moving to Lan Pass to show to nephew-grandson Xiang."

Li Yan listened attentively, nodding his head.

Though these Daoist plays were mere folk tales, often compiled by later generations rather than true Mystical Sect secrets, they carried profound implications.

Beside him, the uncle and nephew Hei Dan were distracted.

One with a complex expression as if recalling the past.

The other, curious-faced, looked around the setting.

"Miss Wanfang has arrived!"

Following a tea server’s shout, the door slowly opened, and a woman entered, a round fan covering her face.

She wore a white dress, moving gracefully with the fan hiding from her nose downward, revealing only her fair skin and charming eyes.

Gulp!

Beside Hei Dan’s eyes widened, swallowing hard.

The young man, barely aware of his blooming emotions, had never seen such beauty before.

The half-covered fan was like a lute hidden behind, adding a hint of allure to the mystery.

Li Yan helplessly spread his hands, "I really have no money."

His words rather killed the mood.

He was merely there to find someone, but the clever tea server and madam had somehow ushered them into this private room.

Qingyuan Building’s Oiran, Zhao Wanfang, would also come to serve.

According to the tea server, Zhao Wanfang was a descendant of Great Song’s imperial family, with unsurpassed beauty and deep knowledge, countless dignitaries in Chang’an city sought her presence yet couldn’t meet her.

Li Yan thought it was all nonsense.

But since he needed to find someone, he had to clarify first.

Pfft!

Upon hearing Li Yan mention his lack of money, Oiran Zhao Wanfang chuckled, "Is Master Li in such a hurry to leave?"

As she spoke, the fan swayed gently, revealing her refined face.

Beside them, Hei Dan blushed, lowering his head to avoid looking further.

Li Yan intended to explain further, but a glint in his eyes, he leaned back, adopting a confident sitting posture, and smiled, "Why do I feel it isn’t me who’s in a hurry...but the lady herself seems impatient?"

"Oh?"

Zhao Wanfang’s eyes brimmed with charm, like a layer of mist about to drip at any moment, she swayed forward, "Look at what you’re saying, it’s still daylight, what am I to be anxious for?"

As she spoke, her skirt fluttered.

Whoosh!

A leg, swift like a striking viper, lashed out, the tip of her shoe harboring a dagger aiming straight for Li Yan’s throat.

However, Li Yan was prepared, his left hand shifted to catch her ankle while his right hand executed a Coiling Silk move, blocking the palm strike aimed at his eyes and using the momentum to twist.

Zhao Wanfang lost her balance, landing squarely on his lap.

Just as she attempted to move, she found Li Yan’s hand on her neck, his grip as firm as steel, a slight movement could break her slender neck.

The actions between them were exceedingly quick, merely a blink of an eye.

To the onlooking uncle and nephew Hei Dan, it appeared as though the beauty first flirted verbally then, following a spin, ended up in Li Yan’s arms.

Well, what a scene in broad daylight...

Old Li hurriedly covered Hei Dan’s eyes with his hand.

"A blade in the skirt?"

Li Yan’s mouth curved in amusement, his gaze icy, "What I mean is, the lady seems eager for my life, might as well clarify the reason first."

"Eating Ge Nian’s bread? Who hired you?"

"Eating Ge Nian’s bread" referred to the family of Ge, like the practitioners, they came from martial backgrounds but earned through assassination, kidnapping, and robbery, often employed by others.

He hadn’t offended anyone in the brothel.

Thus, the most likely scenario was a hired assassin.

The skill involving a blade in a skirt wasn’t easily mastered without proper lineage.

Beside, Hei Dan and his uncle caught off-guard, about to rise and shout, but a look from Li Yan made them sit back down.

The situation was unclear; they needed to be wary of others possibly involved.

At this moment, Oiran Zhao Wanfang no longer held the charming demeanor, her eyes resolute, a blade slowly extended from beneath her fan.

Li Yan’s senses were extraordinary, even with closed eyes he could detect movement, never the one to fall for tricks, freeing his other hand, he twisted, and the fan immediately fell.

His patience having worn thin, he remarked, "With so much going on, this must be a den of thieves, just perfect to clean up in one go!"

"It has nothing to do with others!"

Zhao Wanfang’s expression shifted, her tone grave, "My grievance with you is personal, even if you hadn’t come today, I would have found a moment to strike."

"Today is my downfall, kill or slash as you wish, but don’t implicate others!"

"A personal grievance?"

Li Yan pondered, "Who exactly did I kill from your side? Let’s hear it, to understand the full scope."