Chapter Thirteen: Meng Xiaoli—A Hapless Victim Caught Between Blades

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Meng Xiaoli waited for quite some time, but his noodles had yet to be served. Unwilling to urge anyone, he lowered his head and idly toyed with the tassel of his sword.

Suddenly, a faint “ding” sounded near his ear. He looked up just in time to see a metallic brush pen spin past his ear like a whirlwind and fly toward the rear. Following it, a silver needle was pinned into a pillar beneath the hall. Someone had attempted to assassinate him, but the brush pen had intercepted the attack.

Everything had happened too quickly for Meng Xiaoli to react. Liang Keyong exclaimed in surprise, “The Heart-Slaying Brush? That’s Cold-Faced Scholar Wu Yuqiu of the Wind and Cloud Pavilion!” All eyes in the hall turned toward the back where Meng Xiaoli was looking.

Turning his head, Meng Xiaoli noticed a man sitting quietly in a corner of the hall, drinking by himself. Dressed as a scholar in white, his striking profile revealed extraordinary looks. The so-called Heart-Slaying Brush lay in his hand. Though slender and seemingly weak, the force he had just used to block the attack astonished everyone.

Before Wu Yuqiu could answer, a voice echoed through the hall, “Could it be that the Cold-Faced Scholar wants to meddle?” Meng Xiaoli scanned the room, puzzled. Suddenly, looking up, he spotted a man hanging upside down from the high beams above him. Dressed in black with a red cape draped beneath his arms, his dark, sunken eyes gave him a strange and eerie appearance.

As Meng Xiaoli stared, a blur swiftly passed before his eyes. Someone struck an acupuncture point on his body, and an invisible force lifted him by the waist. He was caught off guard and horrified, unable to see who it was beneath him.

The onlookers watched as Meng Xiaoli was swiftly taken away, then saw the man hanging upside down descend to the floor, retrieve Meng Xiaoli’s bag and sword, and ascend once more into the air.

Meng Xiaoli was carried into a dark room and dropped onto the floor. His acupuncture points had been sealed, rendering him immobile and mute. Only when the captor turned him around did he see the man clearly: a small, shriveled figure with a pointed face and unusually large eyes, resembling a dwarf.

The man spoke in a sharp, high-pitched voice that belied his age—around forty. “Don’t be afraid, miss. Let me introduce myself. I’m Huang Dayou, known in the martial world as the Borderland Poison Bee.” Seeing Meng Xiaoli’s confused expression, he added, “Young people these days don’t know much. I’ve lived outside the border for years and rarely venture into Central Plains. Don’t mind the name Poison Bee—I’m actually quite kind.”

As Huang Dayou introduced himself, Meng Xiaoli’s eyes roamed the dark room in horror. From the walls to bamboo baskets, from desks to corners, the place was filled and hung with human limbs—thighs, even two severed heads stacked in a corner. Above her head hung a woman’s severed head tilted unnervingly. Her scalp tingled, cold sweat broke out, and her wide eyes and gaping mouth expressed terror, though no sound came out.

At that moment, the man in the red cape flew in through the window, clutching Meng Xiaoli’s sword and bag. He tossed them on the floor as Huang Dayou smiled and said, “Ah, this is Xie Zhihuan, known as Old Xie, the Ghost Bat King of Liaodong. Don’t be fooled by the fearsome nickname—he’s a decent fellow.”

Growing impatient, the Ghost Bat King snapped, “Enough stalling. Hand her over to Butcher Xu.” Huang Dayou replied leisurely, “Young people don’t understand. I should explain a bit.” He began rummaging through Meng Xiaoli’s bag.

The Ghost Bat King frowned. “Stop wasting time. Huang Dayou, I told you, she’s just a ‘white rice’—a poor, powerless passerby. What else could she have in that bag besides undergarments?”

“White rice” was a derogatory term for weak, unaffiliated travelers.

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Seeing nothing of value, the Borderland Poison Bee scratched his head in disappointment and turned to Meng Xiaoli with a gentle tone. “Ah, young lady, there’s no way out. You’ll have to be handed over to Butcher Xu. His skill in dismembering is unmatched. If you’re interested, you can experience his craftsmanship yourself. He’s a first-rate person.”

Meng Xiaoli was puzzled but could not speak, so she let the Ghost Bat King carry her away.

In a moment, she was thrown onto a narrow table in the kitchen, stained with blood. The putrid scent seeped into the wood grain.

Addressing a fat, oily-faced man, Huang Dayou said, “Butcher Xu, she’s yours now.” The man nodded and approached.

Huang Dayou produced a thin, supple silver needle from somewhere and stabbed it into Meng Xiaoli’s throat. “You two have a nice chat. We’re leaving now,” he said before he and the Ghost Bat King departed.

Meng Xiaoli saw the greasy man lifting a gleaming black iron cleaver and scrutinizing her from head to toe. Panic rose; did they intend to slaughter her like livestock? The man began to remove her clothes, and in desperation she cried out, “Wait!” To her surprise, sound came from her mouth, though her body remained immobile.

Seizing the chance, she asked, “Who are you? What do you want to do to me?”

Butcher Xu was unperturbed and honest-looking as he smiled. “You look so naive, it’s no wonder you don’t know. Everyone who ends up here asks the same. I won’t hide the truth—we all die here, but at least we understand why.”

He looked at her with a simple expression. “The one who carried you is Xie Zhihuan, the Ghost Bat King of Liaodong. The dwarf is Huang Dayou, the Borderland Poison Bee. They run this inn. I’m the chef here, nicknamed Butcher Xu. There’s also a runner called Earth Spirit Rat because of his nimble legs.”

Meng Xiaoli thought, “Who would have guessed this small inn harbors such formidable and dangerous people?” As Butcher Xu was about to finish undressing her, she hurriedly asked, “We have no enmity. Why bring me here? Why remove my clothes?”

Butcher Xu paused, smiling. “Ah, miss, running an inn is for money. When travelers like you come by, if they have money, we keep the money; if people, we keep the people. We don’t have fine wine or delicacies, so human meat is on the menu.”

“Human meat?” Meng Xiaoli gasped, horrified beyond measure. To think that beyond the border it had come to cannibalism. The dismembered bodies in the dark room earlier must have been innocent travelers like herself. Fear overwhelmed her.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Liang Keyong of the Beggars’ Sect reported to his leader, “Boss, Guo Jian’s group is coming.” Furious, Liang Keyong said, “I didn’t expect him to be so merciless.” He stood and ordered, “Guo Jian is here. Let’s retreat for now.” Turning, he headed to the back hall, followed swiftly by a dozen subordinates. The Earth Spirit Rat nodded and pointed toward the backyard.

At that moment, another group arrived outside, all dressed as beggars, loudly calling for the Earth Spirit Rat. The nimble runner responded and swiftly reached the door, demonstrating impressive lightness skill.

The leader of the beggars was Guo Jian. He asked the runner, “Have you seen anyone carrying a staff leading a group come through here?”

Not wanting trouble, the runner replied vaguely, “Sorry, I didn’t notice.”

The beggars did not press further and boldly entered the inn, ordering several dishes and some side plates.

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The group gathered around the table. Guo Jian remarked, “Liang Keyong sure can run. This inn is surrounded by bare hills; if he ran, our men should have seen him.”

A thin, dark subordinate replied, “Boss Guo, don’t worry. Our pace is fast. He won’t get far.”

Guo Jian glanced at the half-eaten food on the neighboring table and immediately knew something. He stood and told his men, “They’re in this inn. Let’s search the backyard.”

Back in the kitchen, Meng Xiaoli pleaded desperately with Butcher Xu. But he was ruthless and unmoved. She thought bitterly: having just escaped the wolf’s den of bandits, she had fallen into this den of beasts. Luck had surely abandoned her; today would be her end.

Lost in despair, she suddenly heard noises outside. Butcher Xu went to peek and saw Liang Keyong and others hiding in the yard, cautiously watching the front hall.

Soon, the group retreated toward the kitchen but was stopped by Guo Jian and his men shouting, “Liang Keyong, why are you hiding?”

Liang Keyong stepped out, furious. “Guo Jian, you traitor! You bribed people in secret, set traps for me, and now you want to wipe me out. What is your intention?”

Guo Jian smiled and shook his head. “Liang Keyong, leadership is about strength. You’ve been beaten to the point of fleeing beyond the border, still clutching the Beggars’ Sect’s Dog-Beating Staff. You’ll never be chief. You’re the one with ill intent.”

Liang Keyong drew the Dog-Beating Staff from his back, unwrapped the cloth, revealing a jade rod glowing with green light. Angry, he said, “If you want the staff, you’ll have to beat me first.”

He slammed the jade rod on the ground, stirring up dust, then executed the “Strike Out the Thieving Dog” staff technique, leaping up to strike Guo Jian. Guo Jian bent to dodge and drew his sword to block.

Their disciples swarmed into a chaotic brawl. Butcher Xu, seeing the commotion, forgot about Meng Xiaoli. The Earth Spirit Rat stood helplessly nearby. The Mongolian caravan below put down their wine cups and gathered to watch the fight.

Hearing the noise, Huang Dayou and Xie Zhihuan peeked from the second floor, surprised to see the Beggars’ Sect embroiled in infighting in their own inn’s backyard. As the battle raged, they swiftly leapt down and mingled among the combatants.