The kiln-bureau superintendent's compound on Fulu Street received two travel-worn guests, both in their early twenties, possessing the bearing of jade trees in the wind, like nanmu and pine, of the finest quality. Upon hearing they had come to visit Mr. Cui, the gatekeeper did not even ask for their identities, but hurriedly led them into the official residence, to the separate courtyard where the scholar was staying, and after knocking on the door, the gatekeeper took his leave with a respectful bow.
The one who opened the door was the gentleman who had come on behalf of Confucianism to claim the suppression artifact, who had earned the reputation of "Hebilang" in his youth and was always regarded as the sole candidate for the next mountain master of the Guan Lake Academy. Upon seeing the two young men, he showed both surprise and astonishment. He looked at the young man leaning against the doorframe and asked with a smile: "Baqiao, who is this friend of yours?"
The young man called Baqiao grinned: "This fellow is a scion of the Chen clan from Longwei Commandery of the Great Yong Dynasty. Brother Cui, just call him Songfeng. This fellow has no interest in beauties or fine wine, his only obsession is inkstones. He heard there are some old pits in the stream here and wanted to try his luck. He also has a distant relative who accompanied us. If not for her, Songfeng and I wouldn't have delayed until now to enter the town; we should have arrived two days earlier. She doesn't like dealing with people, so she went to wander the town alone. Alas, what a pity! On the way here, we heard that a prince of the Sui Dynasty gained a great opportunity and obtained a golden carp, which has great potential to leave the river and become a dragon. I was so jealous my eyes turned red. Brother Cui, look, full of bloodshots, right?"
The young man tilted his head toward the scholar, who smiled and pushed the head away with a finger, reminding him: "Liu Baqiao, since you've already delayed your journey, hurry up and attend to your business. Why waste time here? When did the Wind-Thunder Garden's style become so sluggish?"
The Chen scion from Longwei Commandery looked apologetic and said bitterly: "On the way here, there was an unexpected conflict. Brother Baqiao injured the acupoints in the internal organs that serve as the sword-nursing chamber, and had to risk moving his life-bound sword to the Mingtang acupoint. If it weren't for my lack of cultivation, becoming a burden, Brother Baqiao would never have been injured."
Liu Baqiao laughed heartily: "Just a few sneaky rogue cultivators who relied on crooked tricks to luckily wound me. Anyway, they are already dead by my sword, not worth mentioning! If I weren't in a hurry, I would have built a few graves for them and erected tombstones, writing that they died by Liu Baqiao's sword on such-and-such day. In the future, when I become the foremost in the sword path, it might even become a scenic spot, right?"
The scholar had known this Wind-Thunder Garden sword prodigy for a long time and was well aware of his naturally playful character. He led the two into the courtyard.
Liu Baqiao suddenly lowered his voice: "Brother Cui, give me a straight answer—is this whole world about to collapse? That Master Qi from the Cliff Academy who was exiled here, is he really intent on defying heaven?"
The scholar surnamed Cui turned a deaf ear to this.
Liu Baqiao chuckled and pointed at him: "I understand now."
The scholar said casually: "Songfeng, I visited Master Qi at the school earlier. When speaking of self-cultivation, he sighed that 'time waits for no one.'"
Cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, bring peace to the world—this saint-to-be from the Cui clan stopped at "cultivate oneself."
Chen Songfeng initially thought it was just polite conversation between scholars, but upon seeing the other's gaze, he immediately understood and bowed with clasped hands: "Mr. Cui, I shall go look for my distant cousin. When I return, I shall seek your guidance on the art of governing the state."
Chen Songfeng's words intentionally skipped the "regulate the family" part, mentioning only "governing the state."
Chen Songfeng hurried away.
The scholar sighed and sat down with Liu Baqiao at the stone table in the small courtyard.
Liu Baqiao crossed his legs and spoke bluntly: "This Chen Songfeng is clever, all right—he understands with a hint. But his manners are too crude. He could have at least sat down and chatted with you for a while before leaving. Why the rush to seek the blessing of the ancestral pagoda leaves? I don't think it's necessary. Now, in the Baoping Continent, aside from the Chen clan of Longwei Commandery, how many other prestigious surnames and clans are left? Those pagoda leaves—if they don't fall into Chen Songfeng's pocket, will they fall into the hands of some commoner born and raised in this small town?"
The Chen clan of the Baoping Continent held the Longwei Commandery branch in highest regard. Although they had been quiet for a long time, a starved camel is still larger than a horse. Though their influence was not as great as before, they were still a thousand-year-old powerhouse that had produced a long line of heroes and great men. Therefore, even a peak sect like the Wind-Thunder Garden, where Liu Baqiao was from, did not dare look down on them. Even someone like Liu Baqiao was willing to associate with them, counting them as half-friends.
The scholar asked with curiosity: "Did you come here to seek Master Ruan's help in forging a sword?"
Liu Baqiao stammered and was vague.
The general meaning was that he was doing a favor for his sect, and if he succeeded, the Wind-Thunder Garden would ask Master Ruan on his behalf to forge a sword. As for what that favor was, Liu Baqiao seemed reluctant to speak of it.
The scholar said: "Do you know that people from Zhengyang Mountain have also come, and it's a master and servant pair?"
Liu Baqiao was stunned: "I hadn't heard at all. Who from Zhengyang Mountain came?"
Then this young sword cultivator, famous in the Wind-Thunder Garden for his arrogance, closed his eyes, pressed his palms together, and muttered in prayer: "Please, not the peerless Fairy Su. I beg you not to be Fairy Su. If she looks at me, I'll melt. How could I bear to draw my flying sword against her..."
The scholar was somewhat helpless: "Rest assured, it's not the Fairy Su you admire. It's the mountain-guarding white ape, escorting the precious granddaughter of the Pure Yang Sword Ancestor, Tao Kui."
"Old Cui, you truly are my lucky star! As long as it's not Fairy Su, everything is fine!" Liu Baqiao immediately perked up, laughing loudly: "I'm not afraid of him! Am I afraid of some old beast? Our Wind-Thunder Garden may fear many things, but we are never afraid of Zhengyang Mountain!"
The scholar hesitated: "The Wind-Thunder Garden and Zhengyang Mountain were originally two branches of the same orthodox sword path. Why can't the dead knot be untied?"
Liu Baqiao's playful expression vanished, and he said in a deep voice: "Cui Minghuang, when you visit the Wind-Thunder Garden in the future, never, ever say a single word of this to anyone."
The scholar sighed.
Wind-Thunder Garden. Zhengyang Mountain.
From the sword-immortal founders down to the newest disciples, the two sides rarely needed a reason for conflict. Whenever they met, they would draw their swords.
The gatekeeper and the elderly steward of the compound suddenly rushed to the courtyard gate in a panic. Cui Minghuang and Liu Baqiao stood up simultaneously.
The steward entered the courtyard, bowed, and said: "Mr. Cui, we have just received word that Zhengyang Mountain has moved against a youth named Liu Xianyang."
Liu Baqiao flew into a rage: "Which Liu Xianyang?"
The steward had great respect for Mr. Cui, but he was not afraid of the young master before him whose name he did not know. He replied calmly: "Reporting to this young master, our small town has only one Liu Xianyang."
Liu Baqiao's face changed dramatically, and he sneered: "Zhengyang Mountain, you go too far!"
Cui Minghuang remained composed and asked: "Has Master Qi intervened?"
The steward shook his head: "Not yet. I heard the boy was taken to Master Ruan's sword shop. It is estimated that even if he isn't dead, he has only one breath left. Someone saw the boy's chest being punched into pulp. How could he possibly survive?"
Cui Minghuang smiled: "Thank you for informing us, sir."
The elderly steward waved his hands quickly: "I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare. It is my duty. I have troubled Mr. Cui."
After the steward led the gatekeeper away, Cui Minghuang saw Liu Baqiao sit back down heavily on the stone stool and asked in confusion: "Did you come here specifically for that boy?"
Liu Baqiao's face was gloomy and uncertain: "Partly. And it's going to be a lot of trouble. A lot of trouble."
Cui Minghuang asked: "More than just the vendetta between the Wind-Thunder Garden and Zhengyang Mountain?"
Liu Baqiao nodded: "Far more."
The scholar sat with his hands in his sleeves and said softly: "The tree wishes to be still, but the wind will not cease. It seems I should set off to retrieve that square ritual tablet, even if Master Qi thinks the Guan Lake Academy is kicking a man while he's down. There's no other choice."
Cui Minghuang stood up: "I shall go to the school. I'll be back soon."
After leaving the official residence on Fulu Street, he passed the Twelve-Legged Archway and stopped, looking up at the four-character plaque that read "Yielding to None When Duty Calls."
In the sunlight, the scholar raised his hand to shield his eyes.
After a moment of hesitation, he turned back and returned to the compound.
---
On Fulu Street, the white-haired, burly old man, holding the hand of a porcelain-doll-like girl, did not enter the Lu family mansion, but instead went to the Song family. Someone was already waiting at the door to welcome them inside. In the main hall, which bore a plaque reading "Hall of Sweet Dew," a dignified old man stood up and came to the door to greet them, clasping his hands: "Li Hong greets Senior Ape."
The mountain-moving ape from Zhengyang Mountain nodded casually at the head of the Li family, let go of the little girl's hand, and whispered gently: "Miss, this old servant will wait for you at the top of the mountain."
The little girl sat on the threshold of the main hall, pouting and silent.
The Li family patriarch said softly: "Rest assured, Senior. Our Li family will ensure Miss Tao leaves the small town safely."
The old ape grunted: "Thank you for taking care of the Miss this time. Zhengyang Mountain owes you a favor. Let me have a few words with the Miss."
The patriarch immediately left the main hall and ordered all members of the family to stay at least a hundred paces away from the Hall of Sweet Dew.
The old man also sat on the threshold, thought for a moment, and said: "Miss, there are words this old servant should not have said, but since things have come to this, there is no point in hiding them. I will tell you everything. This trip to the small town was mostly likely a trap carefully planned by someone. That woman from Qingfeng City's Xu clan cannot escape blame, though she may not be the most important person in this scheme. The clever part of this trap is that even though this old servant sensed it, he had no choice but to fall in. Miss, you may not know that the master of that sword scripture was once a traitorous disciple who betrayed Zhengyang Mountain. He created it himself. According to your grandfather, the most precious thing about this sword scripture is that although the author's own sword-dao achievement barely touched the threshold of a sword-immortal, the content of the scripture points directly to the Great Dao. Miss, think of it—Ancestor Xie of the Xie family, who is on good terms with our Zhengyang Mountain, what an eyesight he has! Yet he still gave this sword scripture the two-word evaluation: 'Extremely High.'"
Next, the old man's tone became colder: "And this sword-dao genius who betrayed his master and ancestors, when he had no way out, took refuge with our Zhengyang Mountain's sworn enemy, the Wind-Thunder Garden. The Wind-Thunder Garden indeed sheltered this man for most of his life, and he lived like a turtle hiding in its shell for decades. Later, to verify the sword scripture, he secretly left the Wind-Thunder Garden and sought out several Great Sword Immortals who had attained the Dao, such as Ancestor Xie. Even though they all disdained his character, they all praised the sword scripture. Ancestor Xie once said in private that the sword scripture merged the sword-dao spirit of both Zhengyang Mountain and the Wind-Thunder Garden. Once someone from either side mastered it, the struggle for supremacy between the two would come to an end."
The old man said in a deep voice: "Therefore, if this old servant can obtain this sword scripture and hand it over to you, Miss, to practice, that would be the best outcome. To put it another way, even if our Zhengyang Mountain doesn't get it, and it falls to the likes of Old Dragon City or Cloud Mist Mountain, or if those young people obtain the opportunity, our Zhengyang Mountain can endure. But there is one thing we absolutely cannot give an inch on: we must not let the mongrels of the Wind-Thunder Garden get their hands on the sword scripture!"
The old man's face was pale and ferocious: "Miss, don't forget—at the deepest part of the Wind-Thunder Garden, in the Sword-Trying Field, our Zhengyang Mountain's ancestor—who is also the ancestor of your line—challenged the Garden Master of the Wind-Thunder Garden back then when our Zhengyang Mountain was at its weakest. She died in fair combat, but her corpse was not only not returned to Zhengyang Mountain for burial, but was left exposed to the sun, and even a Wind-Thunder Garden swordsman's longsword was left pierced through her skull, deliberately left for people to mock and ridicule!"
"Three hundred years! For three hundred years, even though our Zhengyang Mountain has produced many talents, we have never been able to pull out a single sword from the Wind-Thunder Garden! Generation after generation of Zhengyang Mountain sword cultivators have endured this incredible humiliation. As long as our Zhengyang Mountain does not destroy the Wind-Thunder Garden, we will remain a laughingstock of the entire Baoping Continent!"
"Why is it that every time one of our ancestors achieves the status of Sword-Immortal, they refuse to hold a celebration and announce it to the world?"
The little girl was already very familiar with these old stories; she had heard them so often her ears had grown calluses.
However, when her relatives and elders had told them before, they always tried to speak of the dispute in a light and breezy tone, nothing like the mountain-moving ape's indignant and heartfelt outburst.
The little girl asked in her childish voice: "Grandpa White Ape, why didn't you just kill that stubborn boy with one punch? Although his meridians are now completely shattered and his breath is in chaos, the sword scripture naturally got destroyed along with it, and no one, not even an immortal, could restore it. But we must be careful of the one-in-a-ten-thousand chance. What if someone saves him? What if someone gets the sword scripture? What will our Zhengyang Mountain do?"
The inheritance method of the sword scripture was extremely special and mysterious; it could not be conveyed through words. It was like the Liu ancestors inscribing words on a wall, or rather, like the Zhengyang Mountain traitor leaving a fluctuating sword-intent within the bodies of his descendants, passed down through generations, waiting for a descendant with exceptional talent to appear who could master this sword-intent containing the scripture.
Therefore, if the boy died, his porcelain buyer and the Wind-Thunder Garden would have no chance. The sword scripture, which had never truly appeared in the world, would vanish into thin air.
The old man laughed: "If this old servant had killed that boy on the spot, I would have been instantly expelled from this small world. What would the Miss do then? Face the people of the Wind-Thunder Garden alone? Besides, all magic and spells are forbidden here. Master Ruan can forge swords and kill people, but his healing skills? Not very good, I'm afraid. And what, would Master Qi step in? Absolutely not. He is like a clay Bodhisattva crossing a river, barely saving his own skin. And if he really angered this old servant, I would simply reveal my true form. Let's see if this small world can withstand my thousand-zhang true form!"
The old servant stood up, his presence overwhelming: "Miss, forget about the boy at the gallery bridge. This old servant will go and kill the Wind-Thunder Garden people and wait for you outside the gate on that mountain top. If that Qi Jingchun knows what's good for him, he'll watch from the sidelines. If he dares to interfere, this old servant will smash him to pieces. Even if Master Ruan intervenes, I will fight him to the end to make this trip worthwhile!"
The little girl thought for a moment and said with a brilliant smile: "Grandpa White Ape, you may go. Don't worry about me."
The old man laughed heartily: "The Miss need not worry about this old servant either."
---
In a room of the sword-furnace hut by the stream, the air was thick with the smell of blood. Basin after basin of bloody water was carried out, and basin after basin of clean water was carried in.
The old shopkeeper of the Yang family shop, who had been dragged there by the green-clothed young woman almost like a chicken, sat on a small stool by the window, washing the blood from his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked up and shook his head helplessly: "Master Ruan, this boy's injuries are far too severe. If this were outside the small town..."
The man with his arms crossed, Master Ruan, kept a straight face: "Spare me the nonsense."
The old man could only smile bitterly.
He had indeed said something nonsensical. If they were outside the small town, he wouldn't be needed at all.
The green-clothed young woman, Ruan Xiu, stared fixedly at the pagoda leaf placed on the forehead of the boy on the sickbed. It had already lost its luster—it was still green, but without any vitality. She turned her head abruptly and asked angrily: "Wasn't it said that if Chen Ping'an gave his pagoda leaf, Liu Xianyang would have a fifty-percent chance of survival?"
The old shopkeeper of the Yang family sighed: "If the owner of the pagoda leaf himself suffered such a heavy blow and then accepted the blessing of the leaf, the chance of saving him would indeed be fifty percent. But when used to bestow blessings on someone else, it's a different story."
Ruan Xiu shouted furiously: "Old man! Then why did you talk nonsense before and say there was a fifty-percent chance? Why didn't you say so earlier?"
The old man looked miserable and incredibly aggrieved: "If I hadn't said so back then, I'm afraid that before the boy died, I would have been beaten to death by you."
Ruan Xiu was so angry her face turned pale, and she was about to curse.
The man said in a deep voice: "Xiuxiu, show respect to Shopkeeper Yang."
Ruan Xiu gritted her teeth and said nothing.
The man was silent for a moment, then glanced at the stunned shopkeeper, who hadn't moved a muscle. Without warning, like a spring thunder, he burst into a torrent of abuse: "Shopkeeper Yang, why are you standing there like a piece of wood, looking for death?!"
Running into such a father-and-daughter pair, the old man was truly crying without tears. The key was that he didn't dare show the slightest dissatisfaction, so he had to grit his teeth and continue trying to save the dying boy.
From beginning to end, the straw-sandal boy didn't cry out or wail. He only went in and out with basin after basin of water, changing the bloody water for clean water, over and over again.
After another quarter-hour, the shopkeeper was also extremely frustrated. He looked down at the basin of clear water, suddenly slapped it with his palm, splashing water everywhere, and then looked up at Master Ruan with utter grief and indignation: "Master Ruan! Why don't you just run me through with your sword and be done with it?! I'm just a medicine seller, not a divine doctor who can bring the dead back to life!"
The blacksmith's brow furrowed slightly.
The old man immediately shrank his neck.
The boy finally spoke: "Shopkeeper Yang, please try again."
When the old man turned to look at the boy, the boy's eyes were clear and pure. He slightly intensified his tone: "Please try again!"
The old man let out a long sigh of turbid air and said with a heavy heart: "Child, I truly am helpless."
The boy forced a thin smile: "Shopkeeper Yang, I beg you."
The old man, his face full of exhaustion, still shook his head.
The last glimmer of hope in the straw-sandal boy's eyes vanished.
He crouched down and set the basin aside, sat on the edge of the bed, and held the hand of the tall boy, which was already growing cool. He forced a smile that was uglier than grief and said softly: "I will come back."
The boy stood up and left the room. When he reached the threshold, he suddenly turned around and bowed to the Ruan father and daughter and the old shopkeeper—to the three who had been working until now.
The boy stepped over the threshold.
The sunlight was a bit blinding. After a brief pause, the boy strode forward.
If the heavens won't give me justice, no matter. I'll go and take it myself. I'll take as much as I can get.