Ten Thousand Tragedies Chapter 115: An Unexpected Death, I

Laying there in his bed Wu Hao tried to co to grips with the blue box staring him directly in the face.

Almost chanically he digested the knowledge that had just been shoved into his head.

The One Strike Spear Art was the first spear art he'd ever learned, and together with the knowledge of its first move ca other knowledge as well. For example, he now also knew that spear arts could co into several different varieties.

There were spear arts that were ant for control of the distance, used as slashing and smashing weapons that kept the opponent at bay and forced a more defensive focus, and there were spear arts ant to be used with javelins and the like, and which contained a technique ant to return the javelin to the hand after having thrown it as well as wielding the short spears at close combat distance.

Wu Hao's new spear art was sothing ant for pure offense, though. It wasn't ant for defensive purposes, it wasn't ant for retrieving a javelin to be thrifty. Its na said it all: one strike, one kill. The first technique was the Heart Seeker, and it had shown Wu Hao a thod to execute a rapid thrust that was ant to do exactly what its na implied.

All theories of martial arts aside, though...

He'd died.

How? When? He must have died last night, considering everything he knew about his resurrections, but why didn't he have any mory of being killed?

The simplest idea was that he'd just died quietly in his sleep, but that was impossible. He'd had the principles of light sleeping literally beaten into him. During his nights in the wilderness he'd awoken at the quiet flapping of an owl's wings, and those were birds renowned for their silent flight.

No, he decided. He hadn't forgotten his ti as a deathsworn at all, and the training still remained with him. He was as light a sleeper as he'd ever been.

Sothing about this entire situation didn't sit right with him at all. Of all the ways he expected to get killed - a long list of which he'd checked several items off already - he had never expected to get killed in his sleep.

Sitting up, throwing his blanket to the ground, Wu Hao tried to feel around every part of his body. There were no habitual pains, though, nothing that might point to where he got stabbed. He racked his brain for any sort of other clue that was left.

Nothing. He was beginning to develop so good muscle, an effect of qi optimizing his body and his movent, but of the thing that had killed him there was no trace. That made things a lot more complicated.

Wu Hao sagged back into the bed and rubbed his eyes.

Fuck, he thought bitterly. He was now going to have to solve his own murder. The sa chanism that allowed him to be alive also erased any clues that he might've had. He had no way of knowing when, or who, and frankly he didn't even have the slightest idea why.

Or, well, he did have an idea why - assassins from the Jin. It seed absurd to send killers after him, but Lady Jin might do so anyway.

But they wouldn't use spears. They'd use sabers. If he knew one thing about the Jin, it was that. They wouldn't waste ti teaching soone a Sky-tier spear technique, and neither would they hire anyone who would. He'd pissed off the Jin and the Jin would want to make it very clear why no one did that.

Who, then? Soone from the Beggar's Union? The scent that he'd tried to track in the last day? Sothing else entirely? It was impossible to know. Every ti Wu Hao tried to think deeper into a particular question, it raised different questions.

Wu Hao stood up from the bed and peered out the window. Judging by the place of the sun in the sky it was middle morning, roughly between nine and ten. That ant he'd overslept his usual ti that he awoke by several hours, but he'd blad that on Master Ma last ti.

He didn't know if that was going to be useful information, but he stored it away anyway. Exhaling, he began to search the room again, stopping at various places.

The window, first of all. Was it possible to enter through the window? For Wu Hao himself it didn't seem all that possible. No allowance had been made to make it possible for a martial artist to perch at the windowsill - there were no obvious handholds nearby to hold onto and swing into the gap, at least not without so form of additional contortion technique.

There was no one hiding under the bed. He hadn't actually checked last night, but he felt pretty sure that he'd have sensed soone under the bed. Then again, Wang Hangsheng had been able to hide from his senses using so form of technique...

Wu Hao looked over to the door. There wasn't much there - solid wood, painted into a slightly darker color, a lock that he spent a good few minutes poking and prodding, and a deadbolt that could further keep it closed against intrusion.

He'd be placing extra traps. He didn't know if it was allowed to carve into the floor, and his current knife would chip and shatter the mont he tried to carve anything into these big wooden planks, but he'd do it. There were several arrays that functioned by letting out a loud chirp or scream the mont they were first triggered. Those were possible, and they wouldn't cost that much qi.

That was all the extra information inspecting his room had given him. It was a locked room mystery, in a sense, although he didn't really know the state of the room after he'd died, obviously.

Sighing, he was pulled out of his thoughts by his stomach growling, as if reminding him that he hadn't had breakfast yet. Normally he'd just ignore its demands, but the mory of those wontons from yesterday stuck with him. He could maybe try a few more of those. It wouldn't stop him from thinking, right? It wouldn't.

He proceeded down the stairs and into the restaurant proper. The sa patrons sat at the sa tables, served by the sa waiters. Wu Hao took a different table, wondering if maybe soone had killed him for his choice in food or sothing. It'd be ludicrous, but occasionally there were tales of martial artists getting into feuds over who sat where at gatherings.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Flagging down a waiter, the sa one as yesterday, Wu Hao ordered so more wontons and a pitcher of water. He hadn't looked at the man properly last ti, but now his brown hair and his long forehead made it clear that he was one of the sons of Fu Wang.

"Yes, sir," the waiter said, making a perfunctory sort of bow and then heading off. Wu Hao watched him, and another question struck him: had he been the only victim? It was possible that everyone in the inn might have been murdered sohow and he hadn't even been a target, just an accidental victim.

Father would've ordered the entire inn killed if he was taking care of a single target inside, he was sure. Wu Hao had no way of knowing if that was standard practice. At most he'd heard from Jin Qilong about the family exterminations, but did that apply here?

Digging into his wontons - excellent, so of them had pork, just like last ti - Wu Hao decided to list the facts as he knew them.

First off, he'd died in his sleep. He hadn't been tortured, kidnapped, or taken. Thinking logically, that ant that he hadn't been killed for any secrets he might have possessed or to be an experint or sothing like that. They might've robbed him, he supposed, but while he might have been arrogant enough to think he'd possessed enough money yesterday that he'd be a worthwhile target to rob, after going through Steel Alley he wasn't so sure.

Second was that he'd been killed at all. Considering the level of skill it'd have taken to get into his room without alerting him, it was similarly difficult to believe that the thief wouldn't also have been able to leave without having to kill Wu Hao. He'd been killed for a reason, then.

Third was that he'd been killed with a spear. He didn't know anyone who used a spear, or to be more precise he didn't know anyone who used a spear who might decide to kill him. There was no one here who knew who he was. He'd been killed for different reasons, in other words.

Fourth was that he'd been killed tomorrow night. Not tonight, when he'd been sleeping like he was in a coma thanks to Master Ma's influence, but tomorrow night. That probably ant he'd either been killed then because it was the first shot that they'd had at him - possible - or it was the first ti they needed to bother to kill him.

Fifth... well, he was out of facts. No matter how much he wracked his brain he couldn't co up with any actual conclusions, and there was nothing that he could further figure out. Not without getting a better feeling for the situation as it was.

The wontons didn't help him, in other words. He was no closer to an answer.

No culprit. No reason. Nothing.

He stood, the plate of wontons clean as a whistle and a few drops of water left in the pitcher he'd ordered, and began to walk outside. He didn't yet know where he was going, but he didn't want to stay in this inn knowing he was going to die there.

Fu Wang was standing where Wu Hao had seen him yesterday as well, doing so sort of paperwork at the counter. He was muttering to himself as his finger felt out the individual strokes on the papers he was filling in. Wu Hao listened in a little, but whatever he was saying Wu Hao couldn't make much out.

"Old man," Wu Hao said, interrupting him. "I've got a question."

Fu Wang grunted. "What?"

"What ti do you go to bed? When does the inn close for business?"

Another grunt, but Fu Wang did answer. "Midnight. At one in the morning if there's many guests, but there aren't, so midnight. Why? You heading out?"

Fu Wang's finger jabbed out heavily, like he was stabbing the air. "Don't go thinking that you're allowed in after we close. You'll be locked out like all the other drunkards and the rabble that goes out whoring and partying."

"I don't whore," Wu Hao said, though he - well, anyway, he hadn't whored yet. "I don't party."

That didn't really seem to get him any points with Fu Wang, either, who just looked at Wu Hao with that ever-present frown on his face.

"What kind of lock?" Wu Hao asked.

Fu Wang gave Wu Hao a look that said that he wouldn't give Wu Hao information about that unless he was tortured for it, and maybe not even then. Wu Hao took the hint, drawing back from the counter.

"Then, sir," Fu Wang said. "Is that all? Because I've got work to do. The Crane's Nest doesn't run itself."

Wu Hao nodded, and the innkeeper turned away. Then he turned back again.

"That reminds ," he said. "You're planning on paying for your stay, of course. Now, I don't know how you think this works, young hero, but -"

"The Beggar's Union will take care of it for ," Wu Hao said quietly.

He t the scowl that Fu Wang gave him in response with a blank look.

"Little snot," the innkeeper grumbled. He turned away and trundled off behind the counter, disappearing behind a door where Wu Hao could hear Fu Wang's raised voice, and the quieter answers he got back in return indicated the man was having so sort of argunt with his wife.

Not Wu Hao's business, he decided. His business was trying to figure out who'd kill him, and he'd better get on with it. Deciding he knew less than nothing about what the hell was going on, Wu Hao reflected that the solution would be simple enough.

The first inklings of a plan had already ford, though. Tonight, he'd stay awake. He'd pretend to be cultivating, keeping an eye out the entire ti. If he was still killed, at least he'd be able to look his killer in the face.

If his assassin thought it was as simple as killing Wu Hao, he was very, very mistaken. Wu Hao wouldn't rest even if he was dead.

He needed materials for his traps. He needed to see what people thought about the Crane's Nest. And, additionally, he'd need a weapon.

Back to Steel Alley he went.