Chapter Forty-Two: Slaughter in the Dark Night

At that moment, Gu Qingcheng’s phone rang. After two rings, it hung up automatically.

“A call?” Guan Wen asked. He was sitting in the backseat with Baoling, who was already dozing off on his shoulder.

“Yes, but it only rang twice. Probably a wrong number.” Gu Qingcheng glanced at her phone, speaking nonchalantly.

“Miss Gu, we’ll get off ahead. Where do you plan to stay?” Guan Wen asked again.

“I’ll stay with you,” Gu Qingcheng replied, turning back with a clever smile. “I’m sure that as long as you’re still alive, the Qinglong Society and Golden Cicada will track you down. I’ll just wait for the rabbit at the tree stump, close the door on the dog, and achieve my goal without much effort. Besides, I can protect you. To find such a good bodyguard for free, you’re really making a profit.”

Guan Wen gave a wry smile. “Then thank you.”

During the ordeal in the cellar beneath the sacred walnut tree, Gu Qingcheng had been nothing short of his and Baoling’s savior. So even knowing he was being used as bait in her plan, Guan Wen accepted it.

When the car arrived at the family inn, Guan Wen helped Baoling out. Gu Qingcheng got out from the other side and waved the car door shut.

Basang said nothing and drove away.

With money paving the way, Qusongjian and Gesang, the couple who owned the inn, immediately vacated a room in the north wing for Gu Qingcheng, then started cooking, busying themselves with household chores.

Baoling phoned Gao Xiang, but it was Old Dao who answered. He said Gao Xiang and the others had been poisoned and were all in the Lhasa hospital under observation, but their lives were not in danger for now. Old Dao was the only one still conscious; he’d been lucky to fall behind during the attack and had thus escaped harm, and was now taking care of everyone.

“Gao Xiang and I are just ordinary friends. He cares for me and helps me, but I’d never cross the line with someone I don’t love. Besides, with those nightmares gone, I finally have the peace to sleep well. If you’re willing to stay by my side, I’ll feel completely at ease.” Baoling spoke the truth, completely dispelling Guan Wen’s doubts.

With Gao Xiang out of the picture, he could finally care for Baoling without reservation, shielding her from the storms of life.

He pulled up a chair to sit by her bed, held her hand, and watched her fall asleep.

That night, Baoling slept soundly, a faint smile resting at the corners of her lips, like two small crescent moons.

It was the first time Guan Wen truly fell in love with a girl, a beautiful feeling tinged with gentle sadness, a faint sense of melancholy and reluctance. He regretted not meeting her sooner, not helping her escape her nightmares earlier, not giving her peace and happiness from the start. If things had been different, they might have met in Hong Kong or Jinan, not in this remote region, and wouldn’t have faced one calamity after another.

Tap, tap—the wooden door was gently rapped. It was Gu Qingcheng.

“Care to talk?” she asked.

Guan Wen released Baoling’s hand, tucked her arm gently under the quilt, and stepped outside.

Gu Qingcheng stood in the night with her hands behind her back, eyes bright and focused on Guan Wen’s face. She looked like a sword ready to leap from its scabbard—still as a quiet maiden, quick as a startled rabbit, her sharpness unseen but her strength impossible to ignore.

“I actually came to apologize,” Gu Qingcheng said.

“Why?” Guan Wen asked.

“I invited you and Miss Baoling to bear witness. I said if Tang Guang shared his secret, I would spare his life. But I broke my word, played a trick with words. I didn’t kill him myself, but arranged for others to finish him on the road. For a scoundrel like Tang Guang, there’s no need to talk about honor. He killed like a butcher, so I killed him like a butcher—violence for violence, there was no other way. I only feigned civility to get the Qinglong Society’s secret from him. Now, Golden Cicada’s hideouts in Xizang and Nepal have been destroyed. Next, I’ll force him to show himself, then wipe him out and sever all the Qinglong Society’s claws reaching into Shigatse. Don’t blame me for breaking my word—showing mercy to the wicked is cruelty to the good,” she said, her face full of remorse.

Guan Wen had already guessed as much.

For someone like Tang Guang, if you didn’t kill him, you’d eventually be killed by him. Only by drawing one’s blade could right and wrong be settled.

“You did the right thing. No need to apologize,” Guan Wen shook his head.

Gu Qingcheng tapped her fingernail, a trace of regret in her voice. “What’s a pity is, my people followed Tang Guang for over five hours. He checked into Longwan Hotel on Zhade East Road, not far from here, but never contacted anyone. You may not know much about the world of Jianghu, so I’ll be brief—the Eight Tiger Generals of the Sichuan Tang Clan are half-brothers, connected by a unique psychic bond. If Tang Guang is in danger, the others can sense it quickly. I set up an ambush, ready to close the net if anyone showed up, but my plan failed. That’s highly unusual. Knowing the Qinglong Society, they should have sent someone to contact him…”

Guan Wen listened quietly. Once upon a time, the shadowy world of Jianghu seemed distant, like something out of a legend, but now he was already part of it.

“Mr. Guan, I actually regret involving you in this. You don’t know martial arts or firearms, you’re just a gentle painter. After tonight, if things don’t improve or get worse, I’m going to leave. Please take care of yourself and Miss Baoling.” Gu Qingcheng finally laid her cards on the table.

“There’s danger, isn’t there?” Guan Wen asked, cutting straight to the point.

Gu Qingcheng nodded. “Yes. Grave danger—unseen, untouchable. Even if you called the police, they couldn’t help you.”

“I understand. Thank you,” Guan Wen replied calmly.

“Then, take care. Farewell.” Gu Qingcheng exhaled deeply. “I hope the auspicious light of Tashilhunpo Monastery protects you, keeps you safe and out of harm’s way.”

They parted at the bottom of the steps. Gu Qingcheng didn’t return to the north wing, but instead walked toward the gate.

Guan Wen didn’t go inside, but stood at the entrance, gazing into the distance toward Tashilhunpo Monastery.

Tomorrow, he would take Baoling to the abandoned Broken Cliff on Mount Niseri—a place she’d seen in her nightmares. Perhaps being there would help her remember something else. The road ahead was unknown, filling his heart with unease.

Unconsciously, his thoughts returned to his pale days before entering Tibet, those youthful times best summed up in an old saying—neither a farmer nor a merchant, neither scholar nor swordsman. Painting was his only passion, but it hadn’t given him a golden livelihood. That was until he met the master who truly awakened his artistic talent.

Because of his master, his life changed dramatically. He left everything in Jinan behind and journeyed far to Tashilhunpo Monastery. Every time he tried to depict someone’s inner world, it was a cleansing of his own soul. In this ongoing process of reflection and questioning, his understanding of painting deepened day by day, never ceasing.

He felt incredibly fortunate to have met such a wonderful girl as Baoling, to have survived so many trials and finally walk hand in hand with her. In this world, everything rises and falls, but in the end, fate prevails. He pressed his palms together in silent prayer, grateful for the blessing of this union.

Inside, Baoling was still fast asleep. To avoid suspicion, he didn’t go back in, but sat on the steps outside, keeping vigil for her.

The north wing door opened, and Qusongjian shuffled out, stopping below the steps and looking up at Guan Wen. “Someone from the monastery came looking for you and left a message. When you return, you’re to see Master Shu.”

The last time Basang took Guan Wen to the monastery, it was Master Shu who had summoned him, a memory still vivid in his mind. What should have been an ordinary meeting had turned into a fierce conflict.

“Thank you, I understand,” Guan Wen replied.

Qusongjian didn’t go back inside, but sat down on a large rock opposite the steps, speaking hesitantly. “Mr. Guan, those two people who knew Miss Baoling left without settling their bill. If it’s convenient, could you cover it?”

Guan Wen smiled, not wanting to argue, and readily agreed.

Qusongjian and Gesang had no steady jobs; running the family inn was their livelihood, so he understood their concern.

“You’re a good man, Mr. Guan. Good people will be rewarded. I’ve heard that back in the wartime years, the monks of Tashilhunpo Monastery hid all their gold and jewels in the treasure caves under Mount Niseri, sealing them up tightly for future generations. They say Master Shu led the sealing effort. Could it be that his summoning you has to do with the treasure?” Qusongjian was an honest man, but even honest men are tempted by great treasure.

Only Guan Wen knew that Master Shu didn’t exist. In that secluded courtyard, the only thing representing Master Shu was the ancient tree, and the only living person was Caidan Dajie, a practitioner just awakening to self-awareness.

In fact, monasteries like Tashilhunpo may seem open to pilgrims and travelers, but their inner core has remained sealed for centuries, its secrets unknowable to outsiders.

“I don’t know,” he could only reply with a wry smile.

Qusongjian muttered to himself, “A few years back, treasure hunters came to Mount Niseri every year, searching every inch, even using the latest high-tech detectors, but found nothing. I’ve heard the treasure cave is deep, leading under the mountain to an underground glacier…”

“Qusongjian, I’m tired. I’d like some quiet,” Guan Wen had to interrupt. His mind was indeed a jumble, and he didn’t want to talk. Besides, the less someone as honest as Qusongjian knew, the better.

“All right, I won’t bother you. But if you do find the treasure, you’ll need some strong hands to dig and carry things, right? Let me sign up now—don’t forget to call me then,” Qusongjian persisted, convinced Guan Wen could find the treasure cave.

Guan Wen could only nod repeatedly, just to send him away.

Since ancient times, in China and abroad, whenever great treasure is mentioned, everyone’s interest is piqued. Greed is a human instinct, running deep in the bones and blood, impossible to eradicate. Everyone’s eyes fixate on treasure, forgetting the old adage that men die for wealth and birds for food, all ignoring the enormous dangers hidden within.

Suddenly, someone staggered in through the main gate, fell, then scrambled up and rushed toward Guan Wen, mouth agape but unable to speak, only emitting strange, guttural sounds.

“Old Dao?” Guan Wen called out.

Old Dao, unsteady on his feet, fell again before reaching the steps, clutching his neck with his left hand, his right hand pointing at Guan Wen.

Guan Wen rushed over to help him, but was immediately shocked to see a horrific, gaping wound at Old Dao’s Adam’s apple—half his neck slashed open, blood gushing through his fingers. He couldn’t speak, not because he didn’t want to, but because his throat had been cut—blood vessels, airway, and vocal cords all severed.

“Old Dao, don’t try to talk, I’ll take you to the hospital!” Guan Wen knew Old Dao was doomed, but could only try to comfort him.

Old Dao seized Guan Wen’s collar, rasped twice more, and coughed up two great spurts of blood. Then, he let go of Guan Wen’s shirt and pointed toward the courtyard gate.

“You want me to go outside? To do what… save someone?” Guan Wen racked his brain, trying to grasp Old Dao’s meaning.

Old Dao nodded desperately, still pointing outside.

“To save who? Who—?” Suddenly, a name flashed in Guan Wen’s mind. “Gu Qingcheng?”

Old Dao nodded with all his strength. His body went limp, arms and legs splayed, and he lost consciousness.