Chapter Thirty: The Nameless Killer

With a soft ripping sound, the door of the private room slid open, revealing a young woman dressed in a pale blue, close-fitting Hu-style tunic. She was tall and well-proportioned, her skin white as jade, brows gracefully arched like distant mountains, eyes shining like stars, a delicate nose and crimson lips set upon a flawless, oval face. Her hair was braided into the distinctive small plaits of the Hu people, and her beauty was enough to bring kingdoms to ruin.

What astonished Cao Hong most were her legs. With a height of about one hundred seventy-five centimeters, those long legs and her crystal-clear, snowy skin would drive any man mad. In the dead of winter, her legs were still bare, revealing both her charm and her mastery over the cold.

This girl had already reached the stage of Spirit Refinement and Illusory Return! Though not deeply cultivated, she still bore a trace of childishness on her face and was likely only about fifteen years old. Her talent thus surpassed even that of Xu Chu, though perhaps she had the guidance of a renowned master.

She glanced at the Han sword strapped to Cao Hong’s back and, with a cold snort, said, “So it was you who knocked my wine cup away just now?”

Cao Hong replied with a pleasant smile, “I was saving a life in haste, young lady. I hope you won’t take offense.”

She snorted again. “Later, I’ll toss you a few more wine cups. Let’s see if you can knock them all away.”

“Wulan, mind your manners. Invite your senior sister’s husband inside,” came Xu Deng’s distinctive voice from within.

“Yes, Master,” said the one called Wulan. She shot Cao Hong another glare, then stepped aside and made a gesture of invitation.

Cao Hong clasped his hands in salute and strode into the private room. At the square table in the center sat a young woman, her hair bound beneath a magpie-tail coronet, dressed in a bright yellow robe. She wore her hair up like a man, her figure similar to Wulan’s but slightly thinner, making the long robe appear a bit loose.

She was not a peerless beauty, merely clear and pleasant of appearance, but her eyes were gentle and warm, inviting rapport. At first glance, the infamous and enigmatic Xu Deng looked like nothing more than a delicate youth—at most, a woman disguised as a man.

Yet Cao Hong was not deceived. Xu Deng’s exposed hands and neck shone with a translucent radiance, the kind of perfect, baby-soft skin that comes only from mastery of both internal and external martial arts—an achievement of returning to simplicity at the pinnacle of Spirit Refinement and Illusory Return. In his former life, Cao Hong himself had reached such a level.

At this stage, even at sixty or seventy, one could appear no older than twenty, making age nearly impossible to discern.

“Senior, Cao Zilian pays his respects,” Cao Hong said respectfully. For such cultivation, she deserved his deference.

Xu Deng studied him as Wulan returned to kneel at her side, her bright eyes fixed on Cao Hong. She prided herself on her self-created art of projectile throwing, a skill as sharp as an arrow and delivered with a unique technique that concealed four layers of force within each throw. She had believed that the one claiming to be Wang Yue’s disciple was doomed, yet this man had defused her attack. Her heart was naturally unwilling to accept it.

Worse, this man was the husband of her senior sister, who had no martial talent and no interest in martial arts at all. That only spurred her competitive spirit further.

“Zilian, was the technique you used to deflect Wulan’s hidden weapon your clan’s famed Wenyi Thirteen Forms?” Xu Deng asked mildly.

Cao Hong replied, “No, senior. It was not the Wenyi Thirteen Forms, but rather my own creation—the Thirteen Forms of Taiji, which focuses on using softness to overcome strength, four ounces moving a thousand pounds.”

“Taiji… The interplay of yin and yang, endless generation and transformation. Indeed, it can neutralize the force of the world. The name Zilian and your martial art both carry profound meaning,” Xu Deng said, a hint of appreciation in her eyes.

Cao Hong was inwardly impressed. From a name alone, Xu Deng had deduced the essence of a martial art. It showed her mastery not only in martial studies but also in metaphysics and the principles of change. He replied, “Senior, your insight is keen.”

Xu Deng smiled and pointed to the Han sword on his back. “Do you know why I named this sword ‘Lian’—‘Integrity’?”

Cao Hong thought for a moment and said, “Is it because you wish me to guard my integrity, to restrain greed?”

Xu Deng nodded. “When Meizhen said she would marry you, I observed you for a while and found you valued wealth too highly, without restraint. I feared it would bring disaster, so I named this sword ‘Integrity.’ But as they say, heroes often clash with the world. With your exceptional talent, Zilian, you will surely achieve great things, rising above worldly laws and doing as you please—why constrain yourself? Perhaps it is time the sword’s name was changed.”

With that, Xu Deng extended her palm. Understanding, Cao Hong drew the sword and, holding it with both hands, presented it with the side engraved ‘Integrity’ facing up.

Xu Deng swept her hand across the blade. A metallic ring sounded, and the character vanished. “The sage leaves no achievements, the perfected leaves no name. Zilian, you will surely win both merit and fame following Cao Mengde. But let this sword earn merit without a name. Let us call it ‘Nameless’.”

“My thanks for the new name, senior!” Cao Hong replied.

“Very well, you may go,” Xu Deng said.

“Senior, Meizhen is in the county and thinks of you day and night. Would you visit her?” Cao Hong asked.

“No, I am merely passing through today. Meeting you is but a coincidence. My disciple and I must proceed to White Horse Temple in Luoyang,” Xu Deng answered calmly.

“In that case, I take my leave.” Cao Hong immediately bid farewell.

“Hey—next time, use your Thirteen Forms of Taiji to catch thirteen wine cups from me!” Wulan called out.

Cao Hong smiled faintly, gave a parting salute, and left without answering.

After he departed, Xu Deng said to Wulan, “Wulan, both I and your martial aunt believe your talent surpasses all others, even outstripping Lü Fengxian. Yet it seems there are others in this world we underestimated. Fascinating.”

Wulan pouted. “So master means he’s stronger than me?”

Xu Deng shook her head. “In terms of cultivation alone, he’s not your equal. But his martial skill is exceptional. I have traveled the world and learned the arts of every school, yet I could not discern his lineage from his movements. In thirty years of mastery, this is a first.”

Cao Hong returned to his own private room. He said to Cao Chun and Shi A, “To have met one of the world’s few true experts is a blessing. Shall we take our leave?”

Neither Cao Chun nor Shi A wished to linger, so they agreed at once, and the three returned to camp. On the way, Cao Hong said to Cao Chun, “Zi He, I see your cultivation has reached a bottleneck. I suspect your unsettled mind makes it hard to control your strength and qi for a breakthrough. Yet each person has his own path. Why cling only to the Wenyi Thirteen Forms? You can learn from all schools—if it serves you, use it.”

Cao Chun seemed to gain some understanding from these words, and Shi A pondered them as well. Meanwhile, Cao Hong was thinking: What business does Xu Deng have at White Horse Temple? The campaign against Dong Zhuo is imminent, and Luoyang is about to become a battlefield—yet she chooses this moment to go there. Very curious.

Having once been such an unrivaled force himself, Cao Hong knew well the power and influence of someone like Xu Deng. That was why he wondered.

The three walked back to camp, each lost in his own thoughts.