As for the origin of this "Murder-Fiend" title, we must rewind time to one day earlier.
The Imperial Astronomical Bureau—the Star-Gazing Tower.
Above the dome, the Heaven-Watching, Earth-Listening Formation was slowly retracting its last wisp of spirit-light.
The intricate formation-patterns flickered like breathing, finally lapsing into silence, completely sealing off the image of that snow-swept Snowfall Pass in the Northern Territory—ten thousand li away—from this quiet chamber.
Vice-Director Song Zhixing stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze still lingering in the air.
Beside him, Chen Mo drew a deep breath, as if forcing himself to digest the scenes he'd just witnessed.
He picked up the long-since-cold teacup and took a sip; the bitter tea sliding down his throat eased his somewhat-tightened voice a little.
—Gu Chengming. Him again?
These three characters appeared far too frequently in the Imperial Astronomical Bureau's case files of late.
From the case of the Drunken Dream Boat during the Lantern Festival, to the slaying of the jiao in the East Sea, to fist-killing the Eternal Life Sect in the Capital, and now to here within Snowfall Pass—where, with a mere second-realm body, he had schemed and entrapped to death the fourth-realm great cultivator Qian Tong, and in passing uprooted the Myriad Gold Pavilion, a malignant tumor that had squatted here for years.
Each and every one of these deeds, even if attributed to some long-renowned third-realm cultivator, would have counted as world-shocking, hair-raising battle-merits.
And yet, of all things, these were the works of a second-realm sword cultivator who had entered the world less than half a year ago.
"Such methods. Such temperament."
Chen Mo shook his head, replaying in his mind that final scene from the image just now—the moment where the man had used a phantom body to deceive the fourth-realm great cultivator's fatal strike, then detonated a sword-talisman for a one-hit kill:
"Even Luo Jinyao back in her day would have to concede inferiority, no?"
The world all said the Wenjian Sect was growing decrepit, with a gap between old and new—that over these few centuries, apart from a handful of old codgers holding up appearances, its disciples grew worse generation by generation. But looking at things now, how was this decline?
This was plainly accumulated strength bursting forth.
First Luo Jinyao suppressing the Northern Territory for ten years, then this Gu Chengming bursting onto the scene out of nowhere—the fortune of this Wenjian Sect was truly impossible to fathom.
Song Zhixing still said nothing; only the finger that had been tapping the desktop paused slightly.
He slowly turned and walked to the desk, lifting his vermilion brush and hovering it for a long while over a brand-new Hidden Dragon Ranking document. Ink gathered at the brush-tip, yet it lingered without falling.
Watching his Vice-Director's indecisive manner, Chen Mo grew all the more puzzled.
In the past, whenever such a youthful talent appeared, the Vice-Director had always admired them greatly, even willing to expend the Imperial Astronomical Bureau's resources to build up their momentum.
Yet today, facing this Gu Chengming of resplendent battle-merits, why were the Vice-Director's brows knit so tightly?
Song Zhixing gazed at the three characters "Gu Chengming" on the document, his heart roiling like overturned rivers and seas—far from as calm as the surface appeared.
The Wenjian Sect's heaven-granted favor?
Heh. If it were merely sect fortune, that would be easy enough to deal with.
Others saw only Gu Chengming's stunning brilliance, saw only his peerless swordplay. But as the Imperial Astronomical Bureau Vice-Director who oversaw the monitoring of Great Qian's fortune and knew the imperial family's secrets all too well, what Song Zhixing saw was another layer of truth.
The imperial side had yet to declare a position, and the Sage Emperor too kept rigidly silent on the matter. This silence made Song Zhixing all the more compelled to tread cautiously.
Before the situation grew clear, the Imperial Astronomical Bureau absolutely could not lightly pick a side, and even more so could not pin upon Gu Chengming any title too heavily colored with "imperial symbolism" or "orthodox hero," lest those with ulterior motives interpret it as some political signal.
"Vice-Director?" Seeing Song Zhixing remain silent for so long, Chen Mo couldn't help calling out in a low voice: "This new Hidden Dragon Ranking still needs to be sent out across the Nine Provinces. Gu Chengming contributed quite a lot this time—as for his title..."
"Mm." Song Zhixing came back to himself.
"His ranking naturally must rise." The vermilion brush in Song Zhixing's hand finally came down, sketching a line of vigorous characters onto the ranking: [Sixth on the Hidden Dragon Ranking].
But when the brush-tip moved to the "title" column, Song Zhixing halted once more.
By convention, the merit of slaying a fourth-realm devil cultivator, destroying a demon's den, and rescuing fellow daoists was more than worthy of fine epithets such as "Demon-Quelling," "Benevolent Sword," or "Evil-Slaying."
But the words "imperial ancestor" flashed across Song Zhixing's mind, and his wrist trembled slightly. It couldn't be too righteous—too righteous would draw the eye—and it couldn't be too sinister either, for too sinister would easily get him rejected by the orthodox sects, hampering his travels through the Great Qian.
It had to be a neutral title that sounded both intimidating and reflective of his strength, yet carried a whiff of "rough wandering-world" air—even slightly derogatory.
Best of all, it should make the great personages of the court regard this person as merely a sword cultivator with a heavy killing-nature.
Pondering for a moment, Song Zhixing's brush flew like a dragon and snake, writing down six large characters.
Chen Mo craned his neck to look and was instantly stunned.
[The Murder-Fiend of Snowfall Pass]
"Vice-Director? This..." Chen Mo pointed at the title, his face cycling through a dazzling array of expressions: "Weren't you rather optimistic about him before?"
"Ah, Chen Mo." Song Zhixing unhurriedly rested the vermilion brush on the brush-stand, tucked both hands into his sleeves, and slowly paced to the window: "You're still too young."
Chen Mo started, somewhat at a loss.
"You see only his merit of slaying fourth-realm cultivators and rescuing people from fire and flood, but you don't see the dark currents surging behind it."
Song Zhixing gazed at the resplendent fortune-aura shrouding the skies above the Capital: "The tree that stands taller than the forest, the wind will surely break. Gu Chengming has stolen too much of the limelight this time—a second-realm cultivator slaying across realms to kill a fourth-realm, and what's more, the thing he struck at was the Myriad Gold Pavilion."
"How many interests are entangled behind the Myriad Gold Pavilion? The trade routes of the Northern Territory, the powerful nobles of the Capital, even certain unspeakable forces... This single sword-stroke of his, satisfying as it was, has also stirred up trouble."
"But what if he were a 'Murder-Fiend'?"
Song Zhixing walked back to the desk and pressed his finger heavily upon the three characters for "Murder-Fiend":
"'Murder-Fiend' implies that he acts perversely, that his methods are ruthless, that he's not to be trifled with and pays no heed to rules."
"And this title can also keep him far from the troubles of the court. A man burdened with a fearsome reputation cannot serve as the banner of any factional struggle. This way, the imperial side too can hold fewer suspicions and offer more observation."
"So that's how it is..." Chen Mo had a sudden enlightenment, then his face showed shame as he bowed deeply to Song Zhixing: "Your foresight reaches far, Vice-Director. It was I who was shallow. I only thought of a pleasant-sounding reputation, and forgot the killing intent lurking behind that reputation."
"I'll go arrange it at once, and have the new edition of the Hidden Dragon Ranking dispatched across the Nine Provinces."
Watching Chen Mo's instructed manner, Song Zhixing inwardly heaved a sigh.
Though half of this reasoning was true, the most crucial half—the conjecture that Gu Chengming might be a case of an "imperial old ancestor seizing a vessel"—absolutely could not be spoken aloud.
"Go." Song Zhixing waved his hand, wearily kneading the space between his brows: "Remember—as for the intelligence regarding the Northern Territory, apart from the report submitted to His Majesty, suppress all the rest. Don't let too many people learn the details."
"Yes."
Chen Mo received the order and departed, his footsteps gradually fading away at the end of the staircase.
Within the Star-Gazing Tower, a deathly silence was restored once more.
Song Zhixing picked up the file concerning Gu Chengming again, his gaze falling on the six characters "The Murder-Fiend of Snowfall Pass," his eyes complex and hard to read.
After a long while, he let out, toward the empty quiet chamber, a bitter laugh that only he could hear:
"Old ancestor, oh old ancestor... this junior is, after all, doing it for the stability of the Great Qian. I must wrong you by making you play the 'fiend' for a few days first."
"I only pray that, should there truly come a day when you return to your station, you might consider this junior's painstaking intentions... and go a little easier on me."
Outside the window, the wind rose and the clouds surged. The dragon-qi shrouding the skies above the Capital seemed to sense something, and from deep within the cloud layers issued a low, drawn-out dragon's roar.
…
Within a side hall of the Northern Garrison Manor.
Compared to Gu Chengming's helplessness, the little Elder Yu seated across from him was in excellent spirits. Today Yu Wenqiu had changed into a warm apricot-colored house robe, her whole self curled up in that grand master's armchair laid with thick soft cushions, cradling in her hands the hot tea Gu Chengming had just brewed for her, an unconcealable smile hanging at the corners of her eyes and brows.
From time to time she glanced at the large characters [The Murder-Fiend of Snowfall Pass] on the gazette, finding them more pleasing the more she looked, and feeling more and more that this name had been chosen with real skill.
"Elder, you've been laughing over this as a tea-side relish for a full half-hour now."
Gu Chengming helplessly set down the file in his hand: "If this reputation makes its way back to the sect, I fear the elders of the Hall of Precepts will once again have a headache over how to whitewash our Wenjian Sect."
"Whitewash what? This is called deterrence!"
Yu Wenqiu pursed her lips and retorted with perfect confidence.
She set down her teacup, extended a slender finger, and tapped solemnly at those few characters:
"Think about it—what's most feared in wandering the world? Not being hunted by enemies, but those murky, rotten peach-blossom romances and the endless pestering troubles. If you were called something like 'Red Dust Sword' or 'Jade-Faced Lord,' it'd sound nice enough, but then every female cultivator would want to come ask you for a few sword pointers. Wouldn't that vex you?"
At this point, Yu Wenqiu seemed to picture some scene, and her brows knit slightly:
"Our Wenjian Sect has always honored the sword-dao above all. This 'Murder-Fiend,' though it sounds a bit fierce, wins out by being useful! From now on, whenever you go out, you need only announce your name, and those ill-intentioned demonesses... those trouble-makers, will surely hide far, far away. This will greatly benefit your cultivation. After all, for a sword cultivator, with no women in the heart, the sword draws divine of itself."
Listening to this crooked, heretical reasoning, Gu Chengming found it amusing, but did not expose it, merely going along with her words and saying with a smile: "The Elder speaks with reason."
As he spoke, he took from the food-box beside the desk a plate of freshly baked hard-crusted jujube cakes—the craft of the very shop Yu Wenqiu loved most.
He did not hand it over directly, but instead took a piece, meticulously peeled away the slightly charred, hard outer crust, and only then placed it into the small dish before Yu Wenqiu.
"Have a taste. Just had someone go buy them—still warm."
Yu Wenqiu looked at that perfectly prepared piece of cake, and the grand reasoning she'd been spouting endlessly suddenly jammed to a halt.
She shifted somewhat unnaturally, the base of her ears flushing a faint pink, yet her mouth still had to maintain an elder's reserve:
"Ahem... since you've managed to see the sense of it, then this Elder won't waste any more breath."
She picked up the cake and nibbled it in small bites; the sweet, sticky jujube paste melted on the tip of her tongue, smoothing away even that trace of crisis she'd felt deep down ever since Nuo Tao's appearance.
She secretly lifted her eyes, gazing at the profile of Gu Chengming as he bowed his head to leaf through the file again, and suddenly felt that even if he really were a murder-fiend, he'd be the most reassuring murder-fiend in this world—and the best at writing storybooks too.
"Little Gu."
"Mm?" Gu Chengming did not look up, merely responding softly.
"It's nothing. Just calling your name."
"All right."
In the afternoon, the wind and snow eased a little.
Vice-General Liang Si's personal guard delivered a thick, sealed file.
This was the final report concerning the follow-up handling of the Myriad Gold Pavilion.
Gu Chengming broke the wax seal and swept his eyes ten lines at a glance over the densely packed entries, growing more alarmed the more he read, and could not help but admire the methods of that Mohist Gate vice-general.
In that memorial submitted to the Great Qian court and the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, Liang Si had detailed the evidence of Pavilion Master Qian's crimes—using merchant caravans to smuggle forbidden drugs, and keeping blood-slaves in the storehouse to feed the demon race—each item backed by physical proof and the "ledgers" Nuo Tao provided. The evidence was as solid as a mountain, leaving no room for argument.
Gu Chengming closed the file, his fingertips lightly tapping the desktop.
Liang Si understood very well that, with their current strength,uprooting the Myriad Gold Pavilion in Snowfall Pass was already the limit.
If they were to follow the vine to seek the melon and investigate further upward, then the moment they touched those great personages in the Capital, a single transfer order could likely remove them all before the evidence was even conclusive.
Given Luo Jinyao's temperament, that she could garrison the Northern Territory in peace for ten years owed no small credit to the aftermath-handling done by this "Myriad Ingenuities" vice-general.
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