Chương 119: Death on the Doorstep, I

Wu Hao awoke in the morning once more, staring up at the ceiling. The breeze was nice, contrasting the too-sunny weather. He threw the too-hot blanket off of himself, already tiring of its suffocating warmth. As if it was trying to mock him for his failure, the blue screen told him what he'd already known. You have been killed by a Sky-tier Spear Art for the second time. Obtained Sky-tier Spear Art fragment II as a reward.

With dull eyes, not feeling like it'd be worth it to get up right now, Wu Hao mentally examined the new part of the One Strike Spear Art. It was named the Skull Crusher - it was easy to figure out a theme here, he thought wryly. The Heart Seeker had been all about movement to maximize a single, quick stab straight to the heart. For that, it sacrificed any sort of defense, attempting only to guarantee that when it was thrown successfully, it would kill its target.

That hadn't actually been true, but the promise remained. The Skull Crusher was meant to do the same, except it was meant to be a heavy swing using complicated principles to ensure that whatever it landed on would be crushed into powder. It was more complicated than the Heart Seeker in that it required a lot more windup and more specific movement of the wrists, but at the same time as long as you were able to summon up enough force then it was also simpler.

It became clear that he'd need a slightly different spear, though. His last spear had been too long. If he tried using the Skull Crusher anywhere indoors, then he'd get it or himself stuck in the roof. And he would be fighting again indoors. The fact was, he'd died again. He'd prepared himself for the case where someone had invaded his room. It hadn't much helped. He had been able to use a few of the traps that he'd set, but by and large they'd been a waste of time and effort.

And then there were the men that Wu Hao had seen. They wore black clothes, held spears, and their faces were covered with those black masks. For good reasons, he thought. Both to hide their breathing and their dessicated flesh. He only really had two questions remaining. The first: what were these men? Their qi had moved in solid, consistent patterns. They hadn't moved like any martial artist Wu Hao had seen before, and the second-grade martial artist had been the only one that he'd seen use techniques.

There'd been flashes of qi while the men had been massacring Fu Wang's family, but those hadn't had the feeling of true technique. They'd just been releases of qi for additional strength, not the intricate loops of techniques. Wu Hao had no idea. He thought he'd seen a lot of things in his time on earth - the worst of humanity, he had even thought. Betrayal, greed, cowardice - he'd seen all of those.

He'd never seen anything like what had happened last night, and he had no clue how to even begin finding out more about it. Were these automatons, perhaps? He'd heard of them before, but he'd never heard anything of how they looked or how they were made except that mechanical means were involved and that they were created by the Zhuge clan. So maybe the Zhuge were involved? He didn't see why they would be, but at this point he wouldn't exclude any possibilities.

For the first time in a week he thought about Jin Qilong. He'd probably know all about the Zhuge clan and their puppets, and been able to identify how the men that had killed Wu Hao last night had been created. But Jin Qilong wasn't there and he wouldn't be. Wu Hao shook his head, told himself to stop being sentimental, and moved on. The second question was, why had he been murdered?

He figured that it was because of the acrid stink that he'd been chasing, but it was hard to say why they'd chase him down to the Crane's Nest and kill everyone there just because he'd found the mansion itself. Was the solution to simply not engage, then? To pretend that he didn't recognize that smell, to not chase it when he could? No, Wu Hao decided. He'd found something, something valuable enough to kill an entire inn over.

Maybe it was a treasure, maybe it was a secret that was worth as much as a treasure, but either way, they had killed him twice now. That wasn't the sort of thing he was inclined to forgive, no matter what their reasons were. He'd have his vengeance, quite literally in this life or one of the next ones. Unfortunately, though, he knew too little about this Mu clan and about the man he'd seen earlier in his last today. He knew they all used spears, and that shadows were involved in their techniques.

Other than that, there was little, if not just outright nothing. For once, though, Wu Hao knew his next steps. He needed a weapon of his own and he needed a way to make sure that he'd survive the night after catching the attention of the Mu clan. Wu Hao clambered to his feet. He wasn't outright hungry yet, but waiting around and trying to think his way out of this one wouldn't help him one bit.

He preferred by far to be out there, exploring and risking his life, rather than waiting for risks to his life to find him. So that was what he was going to do. He'd hit the streets and check out this Mu clan properly, not just haphazardly this time. And if he did need to do a little robbery, well. Considering they'd sent men to kill him, he figured he was more or less simply repaying a debt that had yet to be established. Besides, he thought.

It'd be an easy way to collect the other three parts of the One Strike Spear Art. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Raising himself up off the bed, Wu Hao stared out the window, into the bright blue day. He reflected once again that Master Ma had cut into his chances significantly with his so-called test, though he really doubted that was intentional.

Without that test he might have several more hours to try his luck, maybe get a head start on this. But no. To avoid the test he'd have to go back in time, and he wasn't going to do that again without a good reason, and he had none. The stairs were a little rickety. Just out of curiosity, Wu Hao tromped down the steps like the men from yesterday's tonight had. It required keeping the legs stiff, and it was an uncomfortable feeling at best. He added it to his list of notes.

It was a long list at this point, filled with all sorts of questions. At the top of that list was still the question of how one became a second-grade martial artist. He still hadn't found any clues, but neither had he bothered to put much time or, for that matter, money into it. Perhaps he was growing a little too certain of his strength, but how could he not? Wu Hao picked a table nearer the exit, on a whim staring out at where the men had invaded.

Whatever lock had been there that Fu Wang had boasted about two yesterdays ago, it hadn't stood up to the invaders or their bizarre shadow qi. That wasn't something he could put his faith in, then. In fact, for all that Chongqing surely had one of the largest concentrations of martial artists, it seemed like they hadn't stopped the invasion last night. Maybe they just didn't care, or maybe they just hadn't known. Either way, Wu Hao wasn't going to put his faith in anyone else saving him.

He was alone again, as he'd chosen to be.

"Wontons," Wu Hao said, but then considered that the waiter'd been murdered for two nights in a row now. And that the wontons had been very good.

"Please. Thank you."

"Very good, sir," Fu Wang's son said, looking puzzled by how polite Wu Hao was being. Wu Hao sank back into his thoughts, wondering if maybe he was overlooking something again. He'd picked another table just in case, but if he'd hoped for world-shattering consequences nothing much had happened as a result. Before long, the waiter returned, arriving with the plate that Wu Hao had ordered. There was an extra wonton, though. Wu Hao decided to be nicer in the future, if this was the kind of reward he'd get in return.

"Wait," Wu Hao said.

"Yes?" the waiter said.

"What's your name?"

"Fu Wangxian," the waiter said. So he was named after his father, then.

"I want information," Wu Hao said.

"Where could I find it?"

"What kind of information?" Fu Wangxian said, shifting from one foot to the other.

"But, er, didn't you come with the recommendation of the Beggar's Union, anyway? Sir?" Wu Hao kept his face impassive.

"I've got my reasons. What else is there?"

"There's a few intelligence gathering groups," Fu Wangxian said, and because he hadn't noticed that Wu Hao's interest had been piqued, he continued: "But they're largely underground. And expensive." He looked down at Wu Hao's clothing, which was that of a particularly cleanly sort of peasant. His mouth twitched. Wu Hao got the point he was trying to make.

"If it's an official question," Fu Wangxian said, "then perhaps the Martial Arts Alliance itself?" Wu Hao tried not to make a face. He'd stayed away from the Alliance not just because of the fierce guards posted at the entrance. He'd stayed away, honestly, because it was his goal. His days in the valley had been quiet and easy, despite being murdered. He'd slept well, he'd eaten well, he'd lived well. Some small part of him - a part of him that he was ashamed of but couldn't deny existed - didn't want that to end.

There were other reasons, like what he would've actually said to the Alliance members or how he'd approach the entire situation, but this was the first time he'd felt more or less free in ages without also feeling like a filthy animal trawling the woods. It was a good feeling. It had been, in Wu Hao's life, also incredibly rare. Even getting murdered didn't really stop him from feeling that way, or at least not for long. Wu Hao nodded.

"Thanks for the information." Fu Wangxian craned his head and looked at Wu Hao, who met his eyes but not without an inward groan. Even waiters were expecting tips for information here? Chongqing, Wu Hao reflected, seemed to be very much about money. It was depressing, that was what it was. Maybe if he had more money then he could stop being murdered, although no: it was said that men died for money as birds died for food, so that might just see him killed in different ways and for different reasons.

In the end Fu Wangxian got the message that he'd get nothing extra, and Wu Hao imagined he probably would not get any extra wontons if he survived until the next morning, but that was fine. He'd have to make it to the next morning first, anyway. He stood up after having polished off his plate and then cracked his knuckles, making a plan. The mistake he'd made, he reflected, was that he'd allowed these men or whatever they were to come to him.

It'd been nice and all thinking about the traps that he'd set, but in the end had they mattered? If he'd chosen his traps more carefully, maybe. In practice, though, they hadn't. The men had seen through his traps easily, had come prepared for it, and had then stabbed him to death using the shadows around him. In other words, hiding in his room wasn't going to solve the issue of them coming after him, and it wasn't going to get him any answers, either.

Weighing the new spear he held in his hands, Wu Hao made a beeline straight for the Mu clan mansion. It was time to flip the script entirely.