The First Entry into the Spiritual Void 86. Walls of Bronze and Iron

The two of them arrived in the grand hall, where waves of enchanting singing drifted faintly from behind the stone doors. They paused and listened intently, as though the song possessed an irresistible pull, luring them into a daze.

Suddenly, the twelve stone doors gave a series of gentle clicks and slowly slid open. Twelve stunningly beautiful maidens emerged, singing and dancing as they stepped out. Each wore nothing but a gauzy pink robe, as delicate as cicada wings, revealing glimpses of their exquisite forms beneath. Fragrant breezes swirled with their movements, instantly filling the hall with intoxicating scent and fluttering shadows.

Bewitched by the mesmerizing song, the exquisite dance, and the heavy perfume, both the masked man and Whispering Flower felt as if they were drunk on potent wine—their minds floated, almost beyond their control.

Just then, a thunderous laugh erupted, startling them awake. A voice boomed, “I thought you, masked man, were someone of earth-shattering ability. But once you set foot in my Fortress of Beauties, you too are left utterly undone.”

Frightened by the shout, Whispering Flower pressed herself against the masked man, her voice trembling, “That’s the voice of the Master!”

The masked man steadied himself, looking around, yet saw no sign of the Old Freak of Yin and Yang.

He was still puzzled when, all at once, a deafening rumble filled the air and darkness fell. The dancers vanished, the singing ceased, and all was abruptly silent.

He closed his eyes briefly, waiting for them to adjust. When he opened them, he found himself surrounded by smooth, mirror-bright bronze walls. The twelve stone doors were gone, evidently sealed off by a descending wall of steel.

Summoning all his strength, the masked man struck out with both hands at the copper wall. Two sharp bangs rang out, but the wall remained unscathed.

Whispering Flower, overwhelmed by shock and carelessness, had been trapped with him inside the bronze-walled mechanism of the Fortress of Beauties. She knew there was no hidden switch within to open it, and with a long sigh, she lamented, “A single slip in a hundred careful plans, and all is lost. Is this the fate of demons, to be doomed thus?”

The masked man, seeing his attack had failed, lowered his head in deep thought, seeking a way out. Then, from beyond the bronze wall, came a cold laugh: “I, Lu, was blind to have ever cared so much for a wretch like you, to have let you toy with me so. Unless I humiliate you enough before you die, my anger will never be eased.”

Trapped and with nothing left to lose, Whispering Flower’s fear faded, replaced by defiance. She shouted back, “Don’t be so pleased with yourself. Even if I die here, I’ll come back as a ghost to claim your life!”

“An hour from now, you’ll know real suffering!” The old monster’s sinister laughter faded to a near whisper as his footsteps receded.

Whispering Flower guessed that the Old Freak had left the Fortress and returned to the Grand Hall. She knew how cruel and cunning he was, capable of any wickedness. Death itself did not frighten her; only the thought of dishonor before dying made her shudder.

Her heart grew more anxious and tense, and tears spilled down her cheeks as she choked back sobs.

Seeing her so distraught, the masked man wrote a few words on his palm to comfort her: “Life and death are destined. If our hearts are clear and untainted, what is there to fear in dying?”

Whispering Flower shook her head, “It’s not death that pains me, but my own careless mistake. I failed to save Miss Bai and even got you caught up in this.”

The masked man wrote again, “Your courage and kindness are truly admirable. Perhaps fate will favor us yet. Don’t panic—think carefully. There may still be a way out.”

Her spirits steadied a little after reading his consoling words. After a moment’s thought, she exclaimed, “I have it! I carry with me a sword that can slice through iron as if it were mud. Your strength surpasses mine—try it against the bronze wall.”

With that, she drew a gleaming sword from her waist.

At a glance, the masked man knew this was no ordinary weapon. He hurriedly took it, leapt to the steel wall, gathered his inner strength, and drove the sword’s tip powerfully into the bronze.

“Wait—let me check first for the best way out, so we don’t waste effort,” Whispering Flower said.

She produced the blueprint of the underground structure, struck a flame to illuminate it, and examined it carefully. Then she said, “Take half a step to the right. There’s a narrow passage there, leading to the water dungeon and the House of Tenderness. If you can breach the bronze wall at that spot, we can escape.”

The masked man shifted half a step right and drove the sword in with all his might. A sharp hiss and a shower of sparks followed—the blade pierced clean through.

He glanced back at Whispering Flower and grinned, affirming the sword’s extraordinary power.

He then channeled his strength, twisted the blade, and with a series of sharp cracks, small plates of bronze clattered to the ground. In no time, he had carved a hole a foot wide and deep in the thick wall.

Focusing on the spot that blocked their exit, he twisted the sword three more times, opening a hole two feet high—enough for them to crawl through.

Whispering Flower, her worry now replaced by joy, laughed, “Brother, quickly shatter that rock. There’s a chamber behind it.”

The masked man handed back her sword, gathered his energy, and struck the rock with his palm. With a thunderous crash, the stone exploded into powder, which fell in heaps.

A cool breeze rushed from the chamber, invigorating them both. The masked man stepped through the rubble into the chamber, and Whispering Flower followed.

The chamber was about thirteen feet deep. On the right stood a dressing table with rouge and powder, and to the left a fine bed covered by an embroidered quilt, from beneath which a quivering form could be seen.

The masked man leapt over, lifted the quilt, and found a delicate young woman curled up in terror, her face drained of color, her body shaking.

He could not abide such women, and raised his hand, intending to end her life with a single blow. Whispering Flower cried out, “Brother! Spare her. These women are pitiable—forced into this life, not here by choice.”

He withdrew his hand and stepped back, turning to look at Whispering Flower, who nodded. Approaching the bed, she spoke gently, “Chanyan, come thank your benefactor for sparing your life.”

The songstress, eyes tightly shut in terror, now recognized the voice of the Tenth Lady, gathered herself, and crawled off the bed, prostrating herself before the masked man. “Thank you, hero, for your mercy!”

Whispering Flower, seeing her trembling voice, comforted her and helped her up, “Don’t be afraid. Quickly gather your things and tell the other eleven girls to meet in the Chamber of Withering Flowers and wait for orders.”

Chanyan replied, “Yes, madam!” and hurried off to alert the others. Whispering Flower opened a secret door in the chamber, and she and the masked man entered a hidden corridor leading straight to the water dungeon.

They encountered no resistance and soon reached the water prison. This water dungeon wasn’t intended to drown its captives, but merely to punish those martial artists who refused to submit. Those locked inside suffered but were in no mortal danger.

The so-called water dungeon was a small square pool, its walls lined with iron bars as thick as an arm. In the center, a lotus-shaped platform just large enough for a single person to sit cross-legged—no room even to shift position.

Miss Bai had been imprisoned there for seven or eight days. Her face was deathly pale, her upper body sprawled on the platform, her lower half submerged, teetering on the edge of death.

The Old Freak’s cruelty was boundless; to satisfy his wicked desires, he had tormented a delicate, beautiful maiden until she could neither live nor die.

The masked man broke the iron lock and swung open the door. But as he set foot inside, a sudden shout came from behind, “Stop!”

He spun around to see an old man in a grey robe, sword in hand, lunging at him.

Whispering Flower stepped forward, brandishing her sword, and barked, “You’re about to die yourself—still guarding the prison for your master? Drop your weapon and obey me, and you may yet live.”

The old man hesitated, eyes blazing, staring at Whispering Flower in shock.

She pressed him, “Time is short—decide now.”

At last, the old man replied, “Since you, madam, wish to save the girl, I’ll withdraw and pretend I saw nothing.” With that, he hurried away.

The masked man leapt to the water prison, saw the half-submerged Miss Bai gasping for life, and was paralyzed by indecision. The rules between men and women forbade any impropriety—how could he possibly proceed?

But then he recalled the sage’s words: “If your sister-in-law is drowning, you must extend your hand to save her.” He hesitated no longer, and, reaching down, lifted Miss Bai from the water and vaulted from the prison.

Though barely breathing, Miss Bai was conscious enough to know someone had rescued her, but not who. She tried to struggle free from her rescuer’s arms, but was too weak to move.

Whispering Flower, seeing Miss Bai’s life hanging by a thread, immediately took her into her arms, beckoned to the masked man, and rushed to the House of Tenderness. At the door to the Chamber of Withering Flowers, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. “Brother, guard the door—no one is to enter and disturb us. Miss Bai’s life is in grave danger. I must use my own inner energy to save her.”

The masked man nodded and took up position at the door.

This chamber belonged to the ninth wife of the Old Freak—a woman who had once been a daughter of a respectable family, but after being abducted by him, had been forced to submit. Powerless to resist, she lived in humiliation, resigned to her fate.

She had been captive here for a year and missed her parents dearly. After Whispering Flower arrived, the two became sworn sisters, and Whispering Flower secretly taught her some self-defense skills.

After only half a year’s training, she was able to handle ordinary martial artists.

On her return from Bai Manor, Whispering Flower had confided everything to her, instructing her to secretly recruit a few trustworthy women to act as accomplices at the right moment.

She did not disappoint. She managed to bring the third, fifth, and seventh wives into the plan. Though they lived like palace maids, their longing for home made them easy to sway.

Whispering Flower had told them that, when the Old Freak was distracted, they were to gather all the gold, silver, and jewels from the vaults and bring them to this chamber, so the spoils could be distributed and not stolen by opportunists.

So, while Whispering Flower led the break-in, these women kept a close eye on the Old Freak, and moved the treasures from the three vaults into the chamber, awaiting word of Whispering Flower’s success.

When the down-and-out scholar passed through the House of Tenderness unimpeded and was warned by a woman, it was the ninth wife, Lotus Blossom, who had helped him.

When Whispering Flower carried Miss Bai inside, Lotus Blossom rushed to greet her in delight and relief. “Sister, have you broken through the mechanisms? We were all so anxious and afraid, we could hardly breathe!”

Whispering Flower briefly recounted the events and laid Miss Bai on the bed, then straightened and asked, “Have all the treasures been gathered?”

Lotus Blossom replied, “We’ve collected plenty, but there was nearly a mishap.”

Whispering Flower climbed onto the bed, placed a pill into her own mouth, chewed it, and fed it to Miss Bai, massaging her to circulate the medicine and revive her. She asked, “What happened?”

Standing at the bedside, Lotus Blossom explained, “I had just brought in the last bundle of treasure when the Old Freak sent Iron Jin Gang to check the House of Tenderness. I’d just entered the room when he followed, silently. He saw all the gold and jewels piled up, and his eyes gleamed with greed. He asked, ‘Did the Master order the Ninth Lady to bring these here?’”