The Rise of Phoenixes

Chapter 37

Translator: Aristophaneso

As the company dispersed and the guards grew less alert, Feng Zhiwei slowly inched backwards to quietly escape.

She had to leave the academy tonight!

As her mind raced, Feng Zhiwei suddenly stiffened.

She froze and her mind blanked as she realized the immensity of her mistake!

She’d been mistaken!

Now was not the time to move!

The opened contraption that had split the bushes had not closed, so there were people remaining who had not made their way through!

And the last person to arrive must be...

As these thoughts flashed through her mind, Feng Zhiwei could not restrain herself, and she jumped forward and immediately utilized all her Qi to rush away as quickly as possible.

She had to flee!

Just then, a faint laughter echoed forth from behind her.

The laughter was like a cool breeze, more the fresh chill of a thin layer of snow balanced delicately on the edge of a flower’s leaf then a piercing frost, but still stinging to the touch.

A dark cloak whipped through the night wind and flashed in front of Feng Zhiwei’s eyes, vaguely revealing a light gold flower as it waved by.

For half a second, the flower unfurled in its full and gorgeous arrogance in front of Feng Zhiwei’s eyes.

Feng Zhiwei knew who the man was and her mind raced without dropping a beat. This encounter was not like the past three, and while he could turn a blind eye before, today she had stumbled somewhere not so easily ignored.

Almost before she could react, the man had already appeared behind her, and his hand was slapping down towards the top her head.

Before it could hit her, Feng Zhiwei willingly collapsed downward.

Her reaction seemed thoughtless and without care, and she fell downward like a dog flopping into mud, but the man’s strike passed through empty air.

The man grunted with quiet surprise, and was clearly quite taken aback by the move. He knew that Feng Zhiwei did not practice Kong Fu, and had not expected her improvised dodge to be so excellent.

But of course, Feng Zhiwei’s improv move was more than it seemed.

This Dog Eating Dirt move was not so simple, and had come from that mysterious notebook. The owner of the notebook seemed to be interested in all manners of strange Kong Fu, as if without any concern with dignified conduct or status. As long as the art could hurt an enemy or help one escape, the notebook would detail and explore the art. Whoever that owner had been, they had improved this Dog Eating Dirty Kong Fu so that after falling to the ground, all of ones joints and limbs could shift and move to allow an omnidirectional fleeing movement, and almost instantaneous movement to cross tens of feet.

Of course, Feng Zhiwei could not practice the art to the full extent, and though she used all her strength, she could only shift five feet away, but this five feet was enough. After shifting away, she immediately curled into a ball and rolled away.

She had taken a good glimpse of the area around her, and was not rolling down a slight slope. After rolling a good distance, she jumped to her feet and ran off.

The man behind her followed along at a leisurely pace, casually watching as Feng Zhiwei scrambled to flee. Just as she was about to exit from view, he extended a hand, a small and strangely shaped crossbow mounted between his fingers.

The small crossbow did not look like a product of the Central Plains; its edges were like snakes with red tassels, and each bolt was a different size. The whole affair glistened with a faint red light, and seemed to flow like blood in the night.

The man curled his fingers, set the string, and nocked the bolt. Wind rushed through his hair and set the red tassels of the bow flying, framing in red and black his smooth and clean face. He was like a moon in the night, and the light golden Mandala Flower bloomed beneath the moon’s radiance.

The sharp bolts aimed straight at the center of Feng Zhiwei’s back.

In the distance, Feng Zhiwei kept facing straight ahead and lifted her hand up in the air to hold up an object.

The object was long and round, and flashed metallically. The man could vaguely make out a trigger, and Zhiwei’s finger tightly clasping the ring.

From the looks of it, Feng Zhiwei was holding a flag rocket.

The man paused, and the dark red crossbow stilled. He curled his hand, and the crossbow disappeared.

In that split second, Feng Zhiwei had disappeared out of sight, leaving the man alone in the night. Feng Zhiwei made her way through the complex Boundary Art and silently faded away.

Along the horizon, a pale white light crested, and the day dawned on the man’s beautiful and elegant eyes, and his deathly serious expression.

After crossing through the woods and passing terraced pavilions, Feng Zhiwei was covered in sweat, and she shivered in the morning breeze.

If she had not taken out the rocket, those sharp bolts would have already pierced her heart.

She had raised the thing to threaten that man – you can kill me, but before the bolts cut through my heart, I will be able to fire this rocket.

The secrecy and timing of this matter was clearly crucial, and any minor disturbance could have huge ripple effects. The time and planning that had gone into whatever was underway must have been enormous, and he would not want his plan disturbed by a single flare, and waste all his efforts.

Feng Zhiwei was sure that he would rather find her later and erase her than let her fire the rocket at that moment.

Both parties were clever, and there was no way they would choose to perish together.

Feng Zhiwei touched the rocket cylinder and sighed. She had gotten it from Yan Huaishi, who had been unable to bring his Dijing guards into the academy. He had prepared these rockets just in case, and had given Feng Zhiwei one, perhaps never imagining that it could save her life.

She did not dare linger, and changed directions as she tried to escape the courtyard, but just as she turned a corner, a figure jumped out and called out cheerfully, “There you are! I’ve been looking for you! Let’s go and watch the event!”

It was Chunyu Meng.

Feng Zhiwei looked at the boy and sighed tragically inside. After a moment, she replied, “Don’t you remember we’re still supposed to be in confinement. We can’t just show up at a public event.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll just take a look, and we won’t be in trouble even if we join the competition. Headmaster Xin will be happy as long as we do well, and maybe he’ll even pardon us!” Chunyu Meng cheerfully tugged on her arm. “Let’s go!”

This brat... would be oblivious until his death...

Feng Zhiwei looked to the dawning light and could not still her anxiety. She pressed down on her emotions and patiently cajoled Chunyu Meng: “We shouldn’t meddle in these affairs, this kind of occasion will have people from the Imperial family, we cannot just join in...”

“So what if people from the palace come, why does that mean we cannot join?”

Suddenly, a man rounded the corner in front of them; the first beam of dawn seemed to gather on the tip of his brow, hinting at the pale rose clouds of an early morning sunrise, and the cuffs of his elegant silk robe waved gently with his movement.

Chunyu Meng stopped in surprise and quickly called out a greeting: “Ah, Your Eminence has already arrived...”

Feng Zhiwei’s brain froze, and she stepped backwards in panic, but the man stood still and looked to her with a casual smile as he clasped his hands behind his back.

He smiled and returned Chunyu Meng’s greeting, but his eyes never left Feng Zhiwei. That gaze was as sharp as a needle, without any hint of merriment.

“Since we’re here, let’s head over together.”

His tone was indifferent, and his smile cold. His eyes held no hint of alertness or hostility as he looked at Feng Zhiwei, just some cold playfulness and mockery. He was a tiger in the woods, looking down on a trapped fox pinned by his paw.