How to Fake Death

"It is to your advantage that the opponent will always underestimate you because you do not cultivate. Because a wolf in sheep's skin has a better chance for a good meal than a wolf."

- Ruan Xiaomen, "The Bamboo Chronicles of a Good-for-Nothing"

***

An effeminate young boy watched the forces pull away from the temple.

Shk shk shk

He whittled away at the bamboo in front of him as his indifferent gaze landed on the funeral below him.

Suddenly there was a rustling of leaves, and Ma Liaowen walked out.

"Shanqiao, the men have gone."

"That's good," the boy lowered his head.

The look in his expressionless eyes shifted, and he stared at the ground.

The truth was, she was Ruan Shanqiao dressed as a boy. She had taken the name of Mei Lukai in this appearance.

At the time that Zhu had released his arrow, she had already taken precautions to avoid a lethal hit. She had stuffed not only a pillow, but placed her two hands between the arrow and her heart to drag it to a halt. Her plan worked, thankfully, and only her left hand had been injured.

The corpse that had been buried just recently was merely a figure she had crafted out of wood and cloth. With the full coverage of funeral clothes in addition to the veil, she had determined that her killers would be unable to differentiate between the a real corpse and the wooden puppet.

The only real consequence of her plan was her injured left hand. As she was not a cultivator, it was unlikely that she would be able to heal it naturally. At the very least, she would have to find a Sixth Rank Cultivator to heal her. Considering the expenditure of vital and spirit energy it required, most cultivators would not agree to it. The very best she could do would be to let it heal and determine how much of the functionality would be retained from the severed tendons.

"Venerable One," Shanqiao looked up at Liaowen in the middle of her thoughts. "Thank you for your help up till now."

"Will you be leaving?" the head monk looked at her in surprise.

"Those men make come back to dig up the corpse. In that moment, it will be better for me to have fled to the borders of Xinghe Kingdom."

"But it will be safer for you to stay at the temple, especially since you can't cultivate-"

Shanqiao twirled the bamboo she had been shaving across her fingers. A strong wind current followed the flow of the bamboo. It was so strong to the extent that Liaowen, as a Fifth Rank Cultivator, could feel a decent pressure to retreat backwards.

Suddenly, the air cut through by the bamboo glowed with a bluish hue. It traced several interconnecting lines to form an array. But it wasn't the traditional array infused with Yuan and spirit energy. Instead it utilized the flow of wind to generate a force. The force from the array manifested itself as several arcs of lightning which turned trees into ashes within five cun of the bamboo strokes.

Ma Liaowen blinked dumbly at the sight. This girl had no sense of Yuan energy and most definitely no spirit energy as well. But how was she able to produce this type of force? Ignoring the range of the attack and the slightly lacking in absolute power, as trash in cultivation, she was still able to produce a force equal to at least a Second Rank Cultivator.

"T-This is?"

"Basic Attack Formation Array II," Shanqiao responded straightforwardly. "It's the legacy my father had left to me."

"H-How?"

"I practiced while the doctor was stitching up my hand this morning."

"No, but-"

"It's the secret manual from the Ruan Clan." Shanqiao gulped slightly. She was actually lying. The method of Ruan Xiaomen was not a secret, as it was left in the urban legends as well. However, she didn't want to share this method with anyone else. 'It would cause a big uproar within continent and jianghu,' she persuaded herself.

She did feel some guilt in not sharing it as Ma Liaowen had helped her a lot. Perhaps he deserved to know...

"Do not use this talent of yours rashly," the head monk interrupted her thoughts. "While it is good that you are able to defend yourself, it still stands that both jianghu and the rest of the continent will covet your knowledge. They may even scheme to cheat you, rob you, or kill you."

It was sweet to know that this kindly middle aged man was sincerely expressing his concerns towards her. However, Shanqiao could not help but question, 'Which of those schemes are people not already planning?'

"Yes, I will heed your warning, Venerable One," Shanqiao lowered her head in obedience despite her speculation. Then, she quietly sheathed the bamboo sword.

The two walked down to the temple, like father and son. And, Ruan Shanqiao, now Mei Lukai, prepared to say her farewells.

In those short days she had spent with the monks, they had taken charge of a small corner of her heart. It tore ever so slightly as she walked further and further away. To leave was the inevitable. After all, danger would always lurk near while her knowledge survived. It was better for to leave.

In her mother's words, "Even if there's inherent regret in departure, one should always treasure the experiences and relations they had developed through their time there."