Among the scattered debris, the old ape's ears twitched at the faintest sound. He curled his lips, bent to pick up a broken tile, weighed it in his palm, then rose and hurled it with vicious speed. The tile sliced through wall and roof alike like a knife through tofu, carrying a whistle of wind and thunder as it flew toward the source of the noise.
Yet the old ape caught no glimpse of the youth. He sprang up on his toes, his massive frame shooting skyward, and landed one foot on a rotten roof beam. Using the bounce he vaulted through the hole in the roof and alighted on the ridge.
From far away he saw the boy standing atop a roof corner, wooden bow strapped to his back, face taut with concentration.
The old ape knew his mistake. That tile had made too much noise and startled his quarry. The little brat from Mud Vase Lane now understood the danger and would abandon any notion of exploiting his bow's range advantage. The ape spread his hands to show they were empty, then curled one finger in a beckoning gesture, inviting the boy to keep playing his tricks — he was happy to oblige and continue limbering up.
To call this cunning would be unfair to the Zhengyang Mountain guardian ape. A millennium of cultivation, a body that had once stretched a thousand feet tall — his physical prowess could rightly be called heaven-propping. During the long years of the mountain-moving ape's path of cultivation, especially in the early days when Zhengyang Mountain was first establishing itself — a weak sect surrounded on all sides by enemies, wolves and tigers circling — after the mountain's founding ancestor had fallen in battle, the ape had been its foremost general. What desperate battles and bloody clashes had he not endured? The little rooftop skirmish in this alley today bore a strange resemblance to those grand engagements of old: back then, the peak cultivators and great qi refiners had also used treasures and heavy artifacts to keep him at bay, never daring to engage him head-on. Like swift cavalry raiding across a mortal battlefield, they would never crash directly into Great Li's heavy armored infantry, but instead used a slow blade to shave away at iron-clad formations, seeking openings bit by bit.
Of all the beings in this place, the old ape was now one of those most heavily suppressed by the local heavenly dao, second only to the vassal king Song Changjing. The military school grandmaster bearing the tiger-tally was favored by this realm due to his special status, so despite his formidable cultivation, the suppression affected him little.
At this moment, facing a youth far more agile than any common townsfolk, the old ape felt a flicker of the savage joy he had known in battles of old.
He did not deny that the boy had given him many surprises — knowing how to read human hearts, setting traps, exploiting terrain, and above all possessing considerable courage.
The old ape glanced at the sky. The western sun was sinking; dusk had arrived and visibility would only worsen. As for the town's layout, he knew it not at all — this was likely one of the boy's advantages, a meager talisman of protection.
The old ape began to sprint, his pace thunderous. A single stride covered over ten feet — a terrifying sight.
The instant the ape moved, the boy turned and fled. He did not run north along the connected rooflines, for that way lay Fulu Street and Peach-Leaf Lane, where the great houses clustered and hidden dragons might dwell. If anyone intervened on the ape's behalf, Chen Ping'an doubted he could escape a coordinated pursuit. So he ran west without hesitation, because the covered bridge to the south offered open sightlines with nowhere to hide. Given their relative speeds, once he lost cover, escape from the mountain-moving ape would be impossible.
West of the town lay deep mountains and ancient forests, thick with vegetation and crisscrossed by hidden trails where hunters had set their snares.
Mountain paths were treacherous. To leave the established trails was to invite extreme hardship — Chen Ping'an knew this better than anyone.
His thinking was not wrong. He had simply underestimated the old ape. As guardian of Zhengyang Mountain, the ape understood mountains and rivers far more deeply than any boy could fathom.
When the youth leapt from the last rooftop, he bent his knees on landing to absorb the impact, then glanced behind him and continued sprinting with his body hunched low.
During the run, the wooden bow and quiver had vanished without a trace. In the forest, if Chen Ping'an chose to abandon the paths his ancestors had trodden and go scrambling through the wilderness, they would only be a burden.
Seeing the boy about to slip away like a loach into water, the old ape grew irritable. He glanced back toward Fulu Street and the Li family residence. Once in the mountains, the ape could not claim complete advantage over terrain, but he would certainly be far more at ease than chasing this wretched child through the town's alleys.
The old ape steeled himself, weighing the cost and benefit, then drew a deep breath of "fresh qi." Neither too much nor too little — with luck, just enough to kill. His face rippled through waves of blue and purple, and without warning his towering frame shot upward. The unfortunate house beneath his feet collapsed halfway from the force of his push-off. Fortunately, the houses on the town's western edge belonged to the poor, their construction far flimsier than those on Fulu Street — the timber used for beams and pillars was particularly inadequate. The family of four who lived there, in a stroke of luck within misfortune, were not indoors at the moment.
The old ape vaulted high into the air, tracing a great arc, and landed right beside the youth. Two deep craters appeared where his feet touched down, and soft spring mud sprayed in all directions.
He drove a fist toward the center of the boy's back.
The human back contained the meridians of all the yang channels. Regardless of the vessels or organs, all were connected through the back. The spot directly behind the heart was the most vulnerable of all, separated from the organ by mere inches.
Between life and death —
The boy, having heard the approach at his side, burst forward with sudden force. Even faster than when he had lured the ape onto the rotten rooftop moments before, his speed exceeded that by two or three parts.
This meant the boy had been holding back his true strength from the very beginning.
As a result, the ape's fist did not pierce through the boy's back, did not crush his heart — it merely grazed the back an inch below the vital point.
Though he had not taken the blow head-on, the boy was still sent flying forward as though struck by a battering ram against a bell, his feet leaving the ground entirely.
What followed was a display of the remarkable agility that had already amazed. The straw-sandaled boy, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, should have landed face-first after being launched through the air. Instead, he thrust both hands forward to catch himself on the ground, elbows bending then straightening in one fluid motion. He flipped in midair, landed on his feet, and used his forward momentum to continue running at full speed without deceleration.
Even the battle-hardened mountain-moving ape, who had seen a thousand fights, could not help but grit his teeth at the town boy's tenacity.
The old ape raised his hand. The back was bloody and raw.
The wound was nothing. He dismissed it with a smile. But his resolve to kill the boy only hardened.
As for why he was wounded, the explanation was not complicated.
In the lingering chill of spring, the boy from the poor alley — who normally wore thin clothing — had appeared today dressed considerably more warmly. Over his own clothes, he had layered an oversized old garment belonging to the tall youth Liu Xianyang. Between the two layers lay a secret: the boy had fashioned himself a "wooden-porcelain armor." Six planks of seasoned wood, each drilled with holes and strung tightly together with silk cord — three across the chest, three across the back. Most importantly, this crudest of armors was embedded with dense clusters of small porcelain shards.
The old ape's feeling at this moment was wretched, like a nobleman who had accidentally stepped in dog excrement and found it stubbornly difficult to shake off.
He clenched both fists, regulated his breathing, and stood in place, forcefully suppressing the turbulent surge of qi that churned within him. The blue-purple ripples on his face shifted to purple-gold, then vanished in a flash.
The old ape's fury erupted. At that very instant, a pebble shot toward him from the depths of the forest.
He caught the pebble — particularly hard, about the size of a fingernail.
Then came a rustling sound, indicating the boy was fleeing deeper into the mountains.
The old ape's expression turned grim.
He turned to look at the town under the gathering night.
He feared this might be the true diversion — drawing the tiger from the mountain.
But his instincts told him the straw-sandaled boy should be killed swiftly in these woods.
---
On Fulu Street, the Ancestor-Shadow Locust tree — which had recently been climbed by a young assassin — now hosted an uninvited guest on its highest branch capable of bearing a person's weight, far above the roofline. Below, another figure stood.
Their sudden appearance forced the already jumpy Li household to pretend they had not noticed, for the man in white robes seated above was none other than the kiln-bureau superintendent. He had brought Song Jixin up into the tree, saying he wished to show the boy a fine spectacle. By then dusk had nearly ended and Song Jixin's eyesight was not sharp enough to see; he could only listen as Song Changjing narrated the laughable chase that had begun on the rooftops of Mud Vase Lane.
The man rested one knee under his hand and his chin on the other, gazing into the distance. Between descriptions of the pursuit, he would interject bits of the town's hidden history or casual reflections on the path of cultivation.
"If we set aside matters of fate and speak only of tangible treasures and artifacts, that famous sword scripture long rumored to exist could rank among the top three in this town. Spread the timeline further, and across the town's three-thousand-year history, it might be a stretch for the top ten, but the top twenty is certain. Do not think that ranking low — it is in fact remarkably high."
"Add to that the mole-scale armor, and if the boy surnamed Liu can digest these gifts, then in this king's eyes, his fortune is in no way inferior to the five of you."
Song Jixin did not look up, for someone's feet dangled directly above his head. The boy asked curiously: "Then why was he still punched to death by the old ape from Zhengyang Mountain?"
Song Changjing smiled mildly. "His luck was too good. Others grew jealous, and he had no patron. Is that so hard to understand?"
Song Jixin's face was full of doubt. "Then why didn't you recruit him more thoroughly when you were in Mud Vase Lane?"
The Great Li vassal king laughed heartily above the boy's head, laughing for a long time before answering: "This king's feelings toward cultivation geniuses from the mountains... in short, once you leave here and hear one of my nicknames, you will understand."
Song Changjing suddenly stood, gazing into the distance, his expression subtly changed. One hand lightly stroked the jade belt at his waist, his eyes burning.
In the eyes of this martial grandmaster who had nearly reached the absolute pinnacle — in the far west of the town, where the mountain-moving ape had broken the rules, the qi of heaven and earth surged violently in that instant. The aura of that region became chaotic, like shattered porcelain flying in every direction.
Song Changjing spoke slowly: "You may find it strange why those outsiders all wear that look of looking upon others as ants. Do you truly think it is merely their arrogant nature — eyes fixed on the sky? Temperament accounts for a small part; the greater part is the way of things. You have never left this town and do not know the transcendent status these immortal masters hold in the world beyond."
Song Jixin replied: "I find it not strange at all."
"Talking with someone who has read books is exhausting."
Song Changjing was not surprised. He continued at his own pace: "Because there is a line drawn between you and them. This line is not so vast — for some, it is no wider than a shallow ditch. One encounters it and steps across in a single stride: you, the former Liu Xianyang, and that boy Zhao Yao whom a great Daoist sect of another continent has taken interest in — all fall into this category. But neither is it small. For the vast majority of this town's people, that line appears as an impassable chasm. They cannot even muster the desire to cross."
"The gap between the two groups separated by that line is vast, rather like... the difference between humans and grass and trees, no less than the divide between yin and yang — perhaps greater still."
At this point, the Great Li vassal king let out a soft exclamation of surprise, then laughed with Schadenfreude: "That old beast has had some bad luck this time, running into such a little hedgehog. He hides his depths well. Song Jixin, this king is beginning to understand you now. Anyone facing such a foe would find it unpleasant. Short of a single clean blow to kill him, it is truly a disgusting sort of trouble."
Song Jixin's face soured.
Not far away, the Li family mansion erupted with shouts, and from the shadows a steady-needle pillar struck with fury.
The straw-sandaled boy did indeed have allies watching over him.
And they were no ordinary people.
Song Changjing smiled. Even as the assassin's figure flashed beneath the Ancestor-Shadow Locust tree, the vassal king made no move to intercept.
In his field of vision, the old ape's massive figure strode back from the west, bounding up and down across the town's rooftops. Whether his landings crushed houses or ruined courtyard arrangements, he could not have cared less.
The Zhengyang Mountain ape seemed to have settled on a target for his rage.
Song Changjing suddenly furrowed his brow, then relaxed, and in the next instant his battle intent blazed forth.
The martial man of Great Li, Song Changjing, loved three things in this life: piling up heads into mounds, slaying geniuses, and fighting immortals.
In the next moment, Song Jixin's eyes went wide. Without knowing when the man above him had moved, Song Changjing now stood on Fulu Street, charging head-on toward the massive figure hurtling toward him from the distance with a force that was almost savage in its directness.
The Great Li vassal king. The mountain-moving ape.
They exchanged a single blow, each fist striking the other's chest.
Song Changjing did not retreat but advanced one step. The old ape was forced back a step.
They exchanged another blow, this time striking each other's brow between the eyes.
Song Changjing strode forward. This time only he threw a punch.
He planted one foot heavily forward, bent his knees slightly, extended his left hand, and drew his right fist back.
The man's snow-white robes billowed, great sleeves drifting in the wind. Beneath his feet lay a ground of shattered bluestone slabs.
A single punch drove straight ahead.
The old ape could only extend one palm to block it.
Between heaven and earth, two faint sounds of cracking seemed to ring out in sequence.
The old ape slid backward over thirty feet, plowing a horrifying furrow through the bluestone ground.
Song Changjing flicked his sleeve lightly, one hand clasped behind his back, the other resting on his white jade belt. He smiled: "Qi Jingchun, and you will not show yourself to intervene? Are you truly prepared to let the broken jar smash itself? Come now — hold out a while longer."
The old ape spat a breath of turbid air.
Song Changjing raised one palm and wagged it with a smile: "Wait until this king leaves the town to fight. For now, let us each attend to our own affairs."
The old ape bared his teeth in a grin. "Song Changjing, you had best be able to defeat me when the time comes. Otherwise, the southern border army of Great Li will have a difficult time."
Song Changjing smiled: "As you wish."
The old ape snorted coldly and strode alone into the Li family mansion. The young miss was safe — she had not even been frightened. After learning the details and discovering it was merely a crude ruse, the ape considered briefly, then bared his fangs and headed toward the western edge of the town.
To hunt in the mountains.