Hidden Shadow – CH 139

Chapter One-Hundred-Thirty-Nine: Because of Its High-End Nature, It Is Sharp-Tongued

Gu Jinghong did not explain much; his main purpose in coming was to check on the progress of An Jiu’s physical reconstruction.

Mo Sigui had not disappointed. Although An Jiu’s meridians would not recover, if she continued on the path of external cultivation, he believed she could achieve great things.

In the dim light, An Jiu’s expression gradually calmed, but her gaze was like a hidden blade, alert and sharp.

It was this expression that made Gu Jinghong notice her in the plum blossom garden.

Back then, she had almost no internal energy yet managed to remove his mask, which delighted him greatly—this girl possessed a natural killing intent; she was practically a born assassin! If nurtured, she would undoubtedly become a deadly weapon in the near future.

However, An Jiu’s current wariness made Gu Jinghong feel quite troubled.

It seemed that improving their relationship was urgent…

He thought for a moment and found the reason: “Perhaps you will not believe what I am about to say. Your mother has never served the Emperor, and she never will.”

An Jiu frowned, a hint of mockery in her eyes. Gu Jinghong pondered for a moment before revealing the truth, “I proposed rebuilding another Dragon Martial Guards unit. This unit will only carry out missions and will not be responsible for serving the Emperor in bed. This matter has been approved by the Emperor; after all, he is still a mortal and needs to attend to worldly affairs. Besides the Emperor, the Konghe Envoy, and me, you are the fourth person in the know about this. You can pretend you did not hear about it, but if it were leaked, you can probably guess the consequences.”

No matter how much the Emperor sought immortality, he could not be completely indifferent to state affairs. As someone whose safety was tied to the nation, he certainly needed protection and someone to handle various matters for him, including assassinations.

He spoke with conviction, and An Jiu was half-convinced. However, even if Mei Yanran did not serve the Emperor in bed, she would not consider joining the Dragon Martial Guards, because she was all too familiar with Gu Jinghong’s gaze. The commander of her organization in her previous life often looked at her with that same gaze, praising, “Thank God! An, you are the perfect weapon given to me to conquer the world.”

An Jiu had always lived a precarious life, only seeing the present and tomorrow. When on duty, she was constantly on the move, navigating the bloody battlefield; when not, she was always in hiding. She was used to accepting orders and waiting for them; losing a commander was like losing her guidance. However, after experiencing many things, An Jiu seemed to slowly rediscover herself. Although she was still confused about the future, she had a clear idea in her heart—even if she could not escape the fate of becoming a killing machine again, she would become her own weapon!

Gu Jinghong had not expected An Jiu to believe him, so seeing her lack of reaction, he simply said, “Until we meet again,” and left.

Gazing at the darkness outside, An Jiu fell into deep thought.

What exactly was Gu Jinghong trying to do? He did not seem to be fiercely loyal to the Emperor, yet he was so diligently rebuilding the Dragon Martial Guards. His motives were highly suspicious.

An Jiu also thought of Chu Dingjiang. He seemed to be constantly recruiting people. Was it purely to consolidate his position in the Konghe Army?

She could not understand and could not fathom their purpose. However, judging from the turmoil within the Konghe Army alone, she could sense the undercurrents beneath the calm surface of the Song Dynasty, a turmoil that might lead to a change of dynasty.

“Hehe,” An Jiu chuckled to herself.

The only sound in the deathly silent room was her sudden, foolish laughter.

An Jiu, harboring a resentment that she could not bear to see others prosper, thought of the impending war. She felt an overwhelming sense of anticipation.

—This was the happiest moment she had ever experienced since becoming an assassin, without exception.

For the next few days, An Jiu remained in high spirits. Her martial arts practice was especially enjoyable.

Her skin, like that of a newborn, changed daily, gradually becoming fair and delicate, making her appear younger than women her age. So much so that when Mo Sigui woke up and saw her, he was startled, exclaiming, “So external cultivation to rebuild the body has the effect of reversing aging!” After finishing his porridge, Mo Sigui wiped his mouth and said, “I’ve decided that after I turn fifty, I must rebuild my body, going from fifty to fifteen.”

“I support you,” An Jiu affirmed.

Hearing her tone and recalling her miserable state, Mo Sigui could not help but smooth his clothes, shamelessly changing his mind. “Forget it. A man like me, who mainly captivates with his inner qualities, looks are just icing on the cake. Maturity has its own charm.”

An Jiu chuckled, wanting to make a sarcastic remark, but then remembered that she needed Mo Sigui’s help to practice the Severing Meridian Palm technique. She pulled out the tattered little book, placed it in front of him, opened to the third page, and pointed to the dry words, saying, “It says it is about understanding the human meridian system. That’s your specialty, right? Tell me about it.”

She rarely asked for help, and her expression was awkward.

“You look down on people!” Mo Sigui stroked his brow, deliberately feigning difficulty. “This is not a specialty; it is something ingrained in a physician’s bones. It is too simple; it does not excite me.”

An Jiu frowned, pursed her lips, clenched her fists, and endured it all.

Just when Mo Sigui thought An Jiu was about to beg him or erupt in anger, he heard her calmly ask, “Are you inherently so cheap?”

“Huh?” Mo Sigui’s eyes narrowed, and he tapped the table unhappily.

“You say it is something ingrained in your bones, something precious, yet you look down on it yourself. Is that not cheap?” An Jiu tried hard to express herself clearly.

Mo Sigui suddenly understood. “Can you not speak properly? If it is worthless, just say it is worthless! Why say it is cheap?”

An Jiu earnestly corrected him, “This is a more sophisticated way of using it.”

“Worthless” equals “inexpensive,” and “inexpensive” equals “cheap”—three words condensed into one! How amazing, how profound!

Previously, An Jiu could only speak simple Chinese phrases. Since inheriting Mei Jiu’s accumulated knowledge, her vocabulary suddenly expanded, leaving her somewhat overwhelmed. She had gained this knowledge, but unfortunately, she had not spent enough time with Mei Jiu to fully master its usage. Most of the time, she would just grab whatever seemed to convey the meaning, often choosing expressions she thought were profound.

“I do not see anything sophisticated about it!” Mo Sigui, unaware of her thoughts, assumed she was deliberately insulting him indirectly.

Oh well, better not hold a grudge! Mo Sigui poured himself a cup of tea, intending to calm his pent-up frustration.

“It’s alright; I will teach you slowly later.” An Jiu firmly believed that Mei Jiu was exceptionally cultured, possessing an astonishing vocabulary exceeding the combined vocabulary of several languages ​​she knew. She was also convinced her own explanations were sophisticated, so she confidently stated, “As a reward for teaching me about the human body’s meridians.”

Her sincere tone made Mo Sigui look up and scrutinize her closely. Her delicate face was radiating “sincerity,” and he thought to himself that she did not seem to be joking. Could there be a fool living inside this body?

“The water is overflowing.” An Jiu did not look; her mental power had already sensed it.

Mo Sigui put down the teapot, paused for a moment, and said, “I am quite interested in your sophisticated vocabulary.”

Actually, he was more interested in An Jiu’s “illness.”

“Deal?” After Mei Jiu’s death, An Jiu gradually realized that she was not entirely useless.

“Deal,” Mo Sigui said.

The matter was settled amicably, and Mo Sigui began explaining the human body’s meridians to An Jiu.

With the guidance of a legendary physician, meridians were a piece of cake. Mo Sigui was quite satisfied with An Jiu’s comprehension, and the teaching process was pleasant and smooth.

However, An Jiu was not so satisfied with Mo Sigui. When she explained the usage of certain words to him, he often could not grasp the meaning precisely. While listening to her explanations, he would either look surprised, bewildered, or deep in thought. Also, he would take her pulse at irregular intervals throughout the day.

“You’ve been taking my pulse a bit too often lately,” An Jiu said.

Mo Sigui lightly pressed his fingers against her wrist, his true qi transforming into four streams that permeated her pulse. After a moment, his expression was confused.

“Is there something wrong with my body?” An Jiu asked again.

Mo Sigui snapped out of his reverie, unwilling to voice his suspicions about her mental health. His gaze lingered on her, searching for an excuse, before finally speaking slowly, “You are sixteen now, and your breasts still are not developing very well. I am wondering if it is due to spleen deficiency or insufficient blood and qi…”

“I think they are fine.” An Jiu’s body had started menstruating two years ago, though it was not very regular, but she figured it was not a big problem. Her breasts were neither too big nor too small for her body proportions, easily encircled with one hand. “Too big would affect my movements.”

“If you think they are fine, then I am relieved.” Mo Sigui stood up. “I am going for a walk.”

An Jiu nodded, thinking he looked melancholic, assuming it was because he was not learning vocabulary well. She rarely had a deep friendship with someone and felt it should be cherished, so she earnestly comforted him. “Things can be learned slowly. I will not laugh at you, really.”

Mo Sigui grinned, clearly smiling, but his expression betrayed a deep helplessness beneath the gloomy surface. He silently murmured to himself, “In life, who does not encounter one or two hurdles…” Unable to find the “cause” of An Jiu’s illness, and unable to think of a way to restore her meridians, and having failed to separate the two souls that once belonged to the same body… Mo Sigui felt he was facing an unprecedented predicament in his medical practice.

He went for a walk, basking in the scorching summer sun, reflecting on An Jiu’s consistent behavior, and carefully categorized people into four types: men, women, eunuchs, and An Jiu herself.

Mo Sigui decided that in the future, he would focus on the first three types of people in his medical practice and only conduct incidental research on the last type, as it was too rare. He could not abandon the whole forest for a crooked tree.

After figuring this out, he felt a little lighter.

Meanwhile, at this very moment, the “crooked tree,” holding the token given to her by Gu Jinghong, was consulting the records of past external cultivators under the guidance of Headmaster Sheng.

Looking into her increasingly clear eyes, Headmaster Sheng smiled faintly. “Physician Mo is indeed extraordinary.”

An Jiu, after reviewing the files of several ninth-level external cultivators, asked, “Why did some of them die after only one mission?”

Ninth-level external cultivators were all so easily killed in the line of duty; the highest record was twelve missions. This was definitely not a coincidence. An Jiu did not know the performance of ninth-level internal cultivators in missions, but Gu Jinghong was a ninth-level internal cultivator, practically invincible. Others might not be able to compare to him, but they would not be weak either.