BANDITS: LEGEND OF FEI (Book 3, Chapter 10)

Book 3: Burden of Sentiments / Chapter 10 – Penglai

It was evening, and a little skiff was drifting leisurely along against the current. Zhou Fei leaned idly against its side. She was no longer a clueless land-dweller reduced to spinning around in circles by an unwieldy oar – this little skiff now sailed smoothly ahead with an occasional deft stroke of her oar. After going upstream for the entire day, she finally arrived at a large island.

She’d been here so many times before that she needed neither map nor compass to find it. She was pretty sure she could navigate these waterways with her eyes shut. Skilfully manoeuvring the little skiff, she glided through an intricate stone maze, before entering a cavern that was just large enough for her boat to squeeze into. She put her oar down, letting the vessel bob along with the current. The stream here twisted and turned several times, growing increasingly narrow and shallow, until the boat could go no further. As it drifted to a halt in the shallows, Zhou Fei hopped lightly off onto the pitch-black shore. She felt along the stone wall of the cavern, and once her fingers found what they were looking for, she pressed hard on several spots in its rocky surface. A creak was heard, as a door slowly emerged from the smooth rock face. After a five-minute walk through this passageway, it widened dramatically to reveal an open expanse of space, a little island upon which a small hut stood.

An old fisherman was sunning his nets out here. He didn’t seem surprised at all by her arrival. Giving her a small nod, he said: “You came at just the wrong time, girl. That youngster came to a few days ago, and wanted to wait for you, until he really couldn’t anymore. He shut himself in again yesterday.”

Zhou Fei gave a barely perceptible sigh, saying: “I ran into a little bit of trouble on the way here.”

The old fisherman pointed to a little cave behind him: “Go in, he’s left you a letter.”

But Zhou Fei remained where she was.

She felt like a traveller who had just returned from a very long and arduous journey. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel glad to be home, but she was simply exhausted – so exhausted that she didn’t even want to speak when finally reunited with the loved ones she’d been thinking about day and night, nor did she have any appetite to eat the homecooked food she’d been missing for so long. All she could do was stand there, rooted impassively to the spot. She lingered by the water’s edge, watching the waves lap gently against the rocky shore. A portion of the old fisherman’s net was bobbing up and down in the frothy water, gleaming with a strange lustre. After a good long while, she thrust Skies Shatter into the ground and pulled out a little porcelain vial from her pocket, saying: “I managed to find the fabled ‘Firetail Grass’, and got Doctor Poison to grind it down into powder. I’m not sure if it’ll be of any use.”

After Zhou Yitang drew her that map three years back, Zhou Fei had gone to Liang Shao’s tomb and turned it inside out.

Grand Chancellor Liang[1] should really be pitied – he’d given everything that he had for his nation while alive, yet wasn’t even allowed to rest in peace. His tomb had already been plundered, and by the time Zhou Fei got there, even his bones were nowhere to be found. The lid of his coffin had been flung unceremoniously to the side, and all that was left was a miserably empty box. It was fortunate for her, however, that the grave-robbers had been very targeted in their ransack of his tomb, as aside from his bones, most of the funerary objects he’d been buried with remained untouched. Zhou Fei extracted everything that seemed to be from the Great Medicine Valley, sending anything that might be of use to Penglai, while giving the rest to Ying Hecong as a favour.

Over the last few years, she’d scoured the ‘Book of a Hundred Poisons’ by Lu Run, that astounding yet ultimately deviant talent. Using whatever information she could glean from it, she’d travelled to numerous faraway lands and exotic places, and had even made herself a new enemy in Tong Kaiyang. She had also become something of an expert in all kinds of curious herbs and medicines. But time and time again, nothing seemed to truly work, as these simply alleviated Xie Yun’s condition without resolving the root of the problem.  Sometimes, Zhou Fei would even wonder – if she were in his place, would she want to spend most of her days unconscious like this, clinging onto life by a mere thread?

Just the thought of it was enough to drive her mad.

And once her thoughts started to go down this path, she would often end up feeling extremely discouraged. Yet that stubborn streak in her meant that despite her moments of dejection, she refused to give up. She would always inexplicably bounce back up again from the depths of despair the very next day, like a roly-poly doll.

Xie Yun’s periods of wakefulness were very brief, and at first, he was only startled awake whenever those three elders on the island were treating him with their chi, and could barely even be considered conscious. But using the methods recorded in the Book of A Hundred Poisons, over the past year they’d finally managed to see a little improvement in his condition thanks to an incense made from the Slithering Dragon’s snake bile. Whenever he gained consciousness, he could now get up and move around for a bit, but unfortunately…while Zhou Fei had rushed here as fast as she could, she still hadn’t managed to reach him in time.

Zhou Fei said softly: “I still haven’t found that ‘dual chi of yin and yang’ which Venerable Master Tong Ming spoke of.”

The old fisherman didn’t seem too surprised by this. He continued to fiddle with the fishing net in his hand, his gaze staying fixed on it as he said: “Your footsteps sounded a little heavy when you entered, and a little uncertain. I knew then that you hadn’t had much success.”

The legendary ‘Scattered Deities of Penglai’ were actually comprised of four people. One of them had channelled all his chi to Xie Yun to save him, without telling the other three, and had passed away a while ago. So there were just three left now – a pious monk, the Venerable Master Tong Ming; a scholar who had somehow clinched a position in the Imperial College despite being full of nonsense half the time, Lin Jin; and this old fisherman.

This old fellow in fisherman’s garb was called Chen Junfu,[2] and by all appearances he seemed as ordinary and unremarkable as his name was. But while few might recognise his name, the things that he made were of great renown – such as that impenetrable ‘Clouds of Dusk’ armour which the Sword of Mountains and Rivers had commissioned for his wife many years back, and which had subsequently landed in the Azure Dragon Lord’s clutches.

It was said that this man had a pair of hands which could turn lead into gold, as he was a master craftsman in all things: machines, weapons, armour…you name it.

Compared to Venerable Master Tong Ming who always spoke in frustrating riddles, or Scholar Lin who was forever teasing her, Zhou Fei much preferred conversing with Old Chen.

It’d been three years – even though Zhou Fei was impatient by nature, her fiery spirit had inevitably been worn down into equanimity after facing disappointment time and time again. She stood beside this old fisherman as he sat on the shore tinkering with his net. She had an almost serene, unruffled expression on her face, as if she were having a friendly chat with him, instead of dwelling on her failures.

Zhou Fei asked: “Old Chen, what if I never end up finding it?”

The old fisherman pulled out an odd-looking shuttle, and at a speed so fast that his hands were a blur, weaved yet another layer of mesh for his large net. The thread he was using was extremely fine, and seemed even lighter and thinner than the finest gauze. While his hands were incredibly quick, he spoke slowly and deliberately: “The first time that old fellow Lin Jin laid eyes on you, he set about sparring with you at once, and at the time you found it impossible to best him. But now, after a mere three years, he doesn’t dare pick a fight with you for no good reason anymore. Do you know why?”

While Zhou Fei was still as obsessed with martial arts as ever, there were still times when she simply didn’t feel like discussing it. She said irritably: “No idea, perhaps that old fogey fears he’s no match for youth? Or maybe he’s been reciting so many useless texts that his fists have grown weak from neglect.”

Chem Junfu pulled gently on one end of the thread, snapping it off cleanly. The large fishing net that lay spread out on the ground quivered a little, as a dazzling gleam rippled across its surface. Raising his head to look at her, a crinkle-eyed smile emerged on his tanned face: “Because others usually take roads that go up, or down, or they simply stay right where they are. Their paths may rise and fall, but the ground always remains solidly underfoot. You are not like them, however – you aren’t on an uphill slope, but a sheer cliff. There is no ground to speak of, so all you can do is fling yourself desperately from crag to crag, your hands just barely managing to grab onto the rocks each time as you struggle to pull yourself up. Because if you can’t, you’ll plummet all the way down and be smashed to pieces. This is a road with no way back, as the only way to go is up – let me ask you this: have you ever felt afraid?”

Zhou Fei looked somewhat surprised at this question, before she nodded: “Yes.”

To be afraid was human nature, after all. Yet Xie Yun had somehow passed on all of his horribly bad luck to her, such that every time she was in danger, it was always of the most dire kind, akin to being trapped in a fast-closing crevice, and if she didn’t want to suffocate to death in here, the only thing she could do was continue inching her way forward – so it was simply no use being afraid.  

Chen Junfu asked her: “Then when you are afraid, what do you do?”

“I’ll close my eyes and imagine that I’ve already managed to climb another step up…or clamber onto an even higher crag, and I’ll tell that to myself again and again, until I believe it with all my heart. Then when I open my eyes and see that sheer cliff again, I’ll feel that the daunting step I need to take is nothing at all.” Zhou Fei nodded at Chen Junfu and pursed her lips, forcing them into a smile: “I’ve got it now, many thanks for your guidance, Old Chen.”

“Guidance my foot, all I’ve done is make you feel a little better about deceiving yourself. Go on, now.” Chen Junfu waved her away, busying himself with the net once more.

Zhou Fei turned around and headed for Xie Yun’s cave. She felt a scorching blast of hot air on her face when she reached the entrance, and a strange scent came wafting out at her. This was the incense made from Slithering Dragon bile. It was said that a mere few breaths of it while sitting in meditation could immensely boost a person’s chi – but not too much, or else it would damage one’s meridians.

Those old fellows had spared no expense to light this little cave up as bright as day. Instead of torches, the brackets on these walls were filled with luminous pearls each the size of a large fist. Zhou Fei stopped dead in her tracks when she first stepped in here – a spray of brightly-coloured azaleas now covered these stone walls which had still been bare the last time she visited. The artist’s work was excellent, the red of these flowers so vivid that they looked almost real. They bloomed with abandon across the entire surface of this rock wall, dazzlingly splendid and full of life. She felt as if a passing gust of wind might actually rustle these clusters of vibrant red, like a field fanned into scarlet flames. As she beheld them, that unshakeable gloom which still hung over her seemed to lighten a touch.

Wreathed in clouds of Slithering Dragon incense, a man who had grown even thinner since the last time she’d seen him was lying quietly here. The splashes of red on these walls seemed to add a little colour to his pale cheeks. He was clutching a piece of crimson jade in his right hand.

Zhou Fei walked slowly over to his side and sat down. This whole cave was as hot as a furnace, such that sitting by Xie Yun – a veritable block of ice – gave her a little relief from the oppressive heat.

Glancing up at the murals on the walls, she said to Xie Yun: “Did you draw all this? Tsk, I guess you aren’t too worried.”

But the person lying there couldn’t answer, of course. Zhou Fei’s gaze swept across the entire wall full of red azaleas, coming to a stop at its bottom right corner where she discovered several lines of text. It started off with a line from the poet Bai Juyi – ‘Compared to you the peach blossoms are colourless, and the hibiscus are mere shadows of flowers’,[3] and ended off with ‘I dreamed a long and vivid dream, in which the mountains bloomed with flowers red as finches. Seeing them was like beholding a long-lost loved one, and overwhelmed me with joy’. It was signed off as ‘The Enlightened One Who Is Free of Worries’.

Zhou Fei couldn’t help but chuckle.

Seeing an inkstand with brushes and paper on the table beside him, she hopped up off this slab of stone he had for a bed and stepped lightly over to that little desk, to have a look at the letter Xie Yun had left for her. There were several paintings lying unfurled on the table’s surface. The first was of a young maiden of about thirteen or fourteen, who still looked quite like a child. She was a slender wisp of a thing, balancing on one leg atop a large rock as she gazed into the distance somewhere beyond this painting, a somewhat imperious air about her.

Zhou Fei arched a brow in surprise. She vaguely recalled that this was how she must have looked the first time she encountered Xie Yun in the Ink-Washing River. Even she herself couldn’t quite remember everything clearly, yet Xie Yun’s brush had managed to capture every single vivid detail. Zhou Fei’s heart leapt in her chest…but then she saw the painting’s caption, and swiftly swung from moved beyond tears to furious beyond words – that scoundrel had titled this painting ‘The Water Plant Sprite As A Child’.

Zhou Fei muttered to herself: “You are the real sprite – an impotent turtle sprite!”

The second painting was of a teenage girl, who was a little older than the girl in the first one. She had pretty, delicate features, and was holding a bleached skull in her hand, about to place it atop a pile of bones. She was standing in the shadows, illuminated by a sole moonbeam that fell upon her back.

Once bitten, twice shy – this time, Zhou Fei read the caption first before her emotions could get the better of her. At the bottom of this painting, the artist had written: ‘The Amazing Water Plant Sprite Slid Down An Underground Tunnel Alone, Preparing To Battle Eight Hundred Bastards of the Villainous Big Dipper All By Herself’.

Zhou Fei: “…”

She glanced over at Xie Yun with gritted teeth. Perhaps she was just imagining things, but she thought she saw the lingering traces of a mischievous smirk on his lips. Zhou Fei suddenly found her feelings of dread and despair wholly unnecessary, as since this ‘Enlightened One Free of Worries’ was as full of nonsense as ever, he must still be quite far from death.

Cursing at him under her breath, she flipped this painting over to reveal a third one.

The third painting was of a young maiden, who was yet older than the previous two. Her features were identical to that of the others, except that she was smiling. She was wearing a red dress which fluttered in the breeze. Her hair was dark and lustrous, her brows relaxed. She was standing in a field full of red azaleas, a long sabre slung behind her.

Looking at the girl in the painting with astonishment, it suddenly occurred to Zhou Fei that she really should make a red dress like that for herself.

Then quickly shaking herself from her reverie, she proceeded to read Xie Yun’s caption, which was sure to ruin the painting. It said: ‘The goddess in the painting is…’

But there was nothing after that. Puzzled, Zhou Fei searched the painting till she finally found the last three words scrawled in a corner: ‘Make a guess.’

Zhou Fei blurted out loud: “Is this painting of yours named ‘Guess Who’?”

While Xie Yun didn’t reply of course, a small envelope fell to the ground as she flipped the last painting over. There was a piece of paper stuck to it, which said ‘Your guess is wrong: she isn’t you, she’s my wife.’

Zhou Fei didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She opened the envelope, which contained a piece of paper covered in orderly lines of the familiar handwriting that she’d seen in ‘A Jackdaw’s Cry’.

“Fei,” wrote Xie Yun. “They say that you’ll be here soon, which makes me very happy. The Eastern Sea has shellfish aplenty – which I suppose hail from the same species as you and your Water Plant Sprite kind – and they’re quite delicious when boiled and dipped in a mixture of oil and soy sauce and vinegar, with a dab of ground ginger. You can get nicely familiar with them when you’re here…” 

Throughout the entire letter, Xie Yun mentioned not a word of Bone-Deep Frost, nor did he weepily express his deepest gratitude to her for all that she’d done for him. There were wisecracks sprinkled throughout to keep her amused, as he listed every single thing one could do and eat in the region of Penglai, before asking her to look at a little box by his pillow, which he mysteriously said contained an “exotic treasure”. When Zhou Fei opened it, she found that it simply contained a ragtag assortment of shells, which elicited another chuckle from her. Xie Yun concluded the letter with a pitiful plea: “The ink and brush are already laid out on the table; I beg of you to take pity on me and pen a reply. A lengthy epistle would be much appreciated, although a brief message would suffice as well. I just hope for some word from you, that the strokes of your brush might alleviate the depth of my yearning.”

And then he added a highly inadvisable postscript: “By the way: The ink and brush are only to be applied to the page – do NOT use them elsewhere.”

Zhou Fei hadn’t actually thought of causing any mischief with those writing implements, but after reading this, she was greatly inspired. With a sinister cackle, she rolled up her sleeves and dipped the brush in ink before walking over to the still-unconscious Xie Yun: “I’m afraid you asked for this.”

Her brush hovered over Xie Yun for a moment as she traced out the strokes in midair, before she decisively brought it down on Prince Duan’s perfectly good-looking face, and began to deface it – first tracing a large circle round the perimeter of his face, then making his brows two exaggerated black strokes to form a ‘八’, drawing a poky moustache on both sides of his upper lip, before her finishing flourish – a ‘王’ right smack in the centre of his forehead.[4]

Zhou Fei stood back and surveyed her handiwork for a moment. Feeling like it was still missing something, she picked Xie Yun’s left hand up and wrote in his palm: “You’re owed a good beating.” 

Zhou Fei lingered in that furnace-like cavern for a little longer. When she re-emerged, all the self-doubt and fatigue she’d been feeling when she came had miraculously dissipated.

Chen Junfu didn’t even raise his head as he said: “Are you leaving now?”

“I’m going now,” said Zhou Fei with a nod. “I still need to go home for the Double Ninth Festival. Now that Cao Zhongkun is dead, my father will probably start getting busier again. I’ll try to get my hands on more of that snake bile a little later.” 

“There’s no hurry. That little bit we have right now will last him a few years.” Chen Junfu flung a gleaming object at her, saying: “Take this.” 

Zhou Fei caught it with one hand. It was a set of close-fitting body armour, tailored for a slender figure, and nearly weightless. She asked: “Clouds of Dusk?”

“Pfft- Clouds of Dusk? What is that?” said Chen Junfu with a smile. “But this isn’t much either. I had some material left over from making this net, but it was only about the length of my arm, which would be far too little to make anything for anyone else to fit into – it’s just enough for you. I’ve decided to name it ‘Clouds of Sunset’ – how does that sound?”

Zhou Fei could only chuckle sheepishly in response – that ethereal name really didn’t suit her.

Zhou Fei chose several better-looking specimens from that box of clamshells, which Xie Yun had left for her after he’d polished off the insides. Threading them together, she made them into a highly mismatched fringe for the piece of body armour that Old Chen had weaved for her from his fishing net leftovers. She left decked out in this ratty ensemble, which would have allowed her to fit right in with the Beggars’ Sect if she got herself a tattered pair of pants to match. She planned to go home first, to report back to Li Jinrong, before visiting Zhou Yitang to see if there was anything he wanted her help with. Once all that was done, she would head for the southern frontiers again, to search for more snake bile if there was any.

Any martial arts in the central plains that had seen minor success would certainly be somewhat established already, with its own system of cultivation, name and history. If the kind of chi technique that the Venerable Master Tong Ming had mentioned really did exist, it was highly unlikely that no one would have heard of it. Since she couldn’t find it despite scouring the entirety of the central plains, she should perhaps try her luck in the frontier regions. Because of this, she’d even accepted Yang Jin’s invitation to spar with him in the southern frontiers some time this winter, to ask him to keep an eye out for any such experts of note in his neck of the woods.

All of these things were enough to keep her busy till next spring at least. Not wanting to dally one second longer, Zhou Fei took the main highway going at full speed, the shells on her armour jangling as she went.

But midway through her journey, before she’d even departed the coastal region of Lu, she saw yet another of the 48 Zhai‘s flares in the sky – although this time it was a little more subtle, mixed in amongst a display of fireworks. It seemed more like a discreet message rather than an urgent call for help. Zhou Fei pulled hard on the reins, coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road. She furrowed her brow as she looked in the direction of those fireworks, the sky above still smoky with them. Had Li Jinrong sent all of the 48 Zhai‘s troublemakers out at once? Why did trouble seem to crop up ever so often!

But since she’d already seen that distress flare, she couldn’t very well ignore it and go off on her own merry way now. She tugged at the reins to steer her horse in that direction.

After her horse had galloped on for about fifteen minutes, a dazzling display of fireworks lit up the night sky yet again, as if in celebration of something. Even from this distance, she could hear the din of a festive crowd where those fireworks were launched. She started to see more and more people on this road, who all seemed to be heading in the same direction.

Whenever a pretty young maiden such as Zhou Fei was on the road all by herself, she was bound to attract a great deal of attention. Several of the more brazen travellers here even tried to approach her and strike up a conversation.

Zhou Fei had always been a little standoffish since young, and with the advancements in her martial arts thanks to her frequent brushes with danger over the last few years, she had acquired an even more intimidating presence. Most of those who approached her dared not bother her further after she didn’t entertain their advances, save for a teenage boy who, after circling Zhou Fei for quite some time, even had the nerve to accost her and ask: “Excuse me, Miss, might you be going to the Liu Manor as well?”

Zhou Fei turned to glance at this boy. ‘He’ had a very slender frame, and ‘his’ collar was turned all the way up, as if to deliberately conceal the throat. ‘His’ back was ramrod straight, ‘his’ hands hung by his sides, and ‘he’ tucked ‘his’ chin in ever so slightly when ‘he’ spoke. While there were two prominent whiskers on both sides of ‘his’ upper lip, ‘his’ face was so fair that it was practically luminous in the dusk – it was obvious at a glance that this was a young lady with whiskers clumsily plastered on her face.

Zhou Fei nodded curtly, before turning away from her with disinterest.

But to her surprise, that maiden continued to badger her, saying: “This Liu Clan really is quite something. They’ve put together such a grand celebration for their matriarch’s birthday – and it’s not even a special birthday either, like her seventieth or eightieth. No wonder everyone says that they have the wealth of a small kingdom.”

Zhou Fei had absolutely no interest in whether the ‘Liu Manor’, the ‘Yang Manor’, or the ‘Zhang Manor’ was holding an over-the-top celebration for their grande dame. But just as she made up her mind to pretend she hadn’t heard a thing and urge her horse forward, she realised that something seemed amiss. Lightly tugging on her reins, she whipped her head round to look closely at that little whiskered fellow.

This ‘whiskered fellow’ immediately ceased his chatter. He sat elegantly astride his horse, smiling at Zhou Fei.

“Why are you here?” Zhou Fei had at long last recognised who ‘he’ was. She asked in astonishment: “What brought you all the way here – and looking like this to boot?”

This ‘whiskered fellow’ was in fact Wu Chuchu, who should by right have been safely tucked away in the 48 Zhai.

Wu Chuchu didn’t have it in her to grin toothily from ear to ear the way Li Yan would – a lady was always taught to smile with her eyes rather than her lips. Her eyes sparkling with mirth, she asked: “Why, don’t you think I look the part?”

Zhou Fei shook her head wryly.

“Yan gave these to me,” said Wu Chuchu as she lowered her head and ripped off the little whiskers stuck to her upper lip, revealing a charming pair of rosebud lips. “I’d thought that this mightn’t be very dignified, but after watching her frequently traipse around in an assortment of strange disguises, it made me feel like there might actually be some fun to be had in playing dress-up. I couldn’t help but take a clumsy stab at it – alas, I failed miserably, as expected.”

With Zhou Fei gone, Li Yan was now Wu Chuchu’s constant companion in the 48 Zhai. There was a deep-seated streak of impishness in the young Miss Li, who also wielded an amazingly strong corrupting influence – while being in close proximity to positive role models would never do her any good, she herself was always able to lead others astray.  

Zhou Fei asked: “Who sent you here?”

“I came here on my own, after informing Mistress Li,” said Wu Chuchu. Observing the deepening crease in Zhou Fei’s brows, she smiled again and said: “You needn’t look so worried. Mistress Li has taught me some basic martial arts, which is just enough to protect myself – moreover I’m well aware of my own limitations, and certainly won’t try to rescue others on my own, unlike all of you.” 

“Mistress Li? Did my mother teach you herself?” Zhou Fei exclaimed in surprise. “No wonder you haven’t written to me for advice in quite some time.”

When the bunch of them had returned to the 48 Zhai from Yongzhou three years back, they’d each kind of gone their own way – Li Sheng and Zhou Fei were mostly away from home, leaving Li Yan behind. And no matter how pampered Li Yan was there was still a huge amount of training she had to do as a disciple, and there was no way she could avoid her daily practices or Li Jinrong’s frequent spot checks, which didn’t leave her with much time to accompany Wu Chuchu.

This had left Wu Chuchu a little at a loss. At her age, young noblewomen in the old capital should already be learning things like embroidery and running a household, in anticipation of securing a good marriage. And once that was done, she would be settled for the rest of her life: she would henceforth weather all of life’s ups and downs within the four walls of a courtyard, and whether her station in life rose or fell would depend entirely on her husband’s fortunes.

But now, she was all alone in this world, neither a young noblewoman nor the lady of a household. She lived with a bunch of uncouth louts from the martial arts world, the gulf between her and them deeper than the ocean. While everyone in the 48 Zhai treated her well, this was solely out of courtesy, and nobody would go out of their way to make her feel at home. Moreover, all the courage that she’d accumulated in the ten or so years of her existence on this earth had been completely expended during the life-threatening journey here. All she was left with was her gentle and quiet nature, which certainly did not suffice to spur her on to grander goals.

And as for seeking revenge on her family’s killers, this had now become a matter of national importance, a vicious struggle between the Northern and Southern Dynasties. There was not a single thing she could do that would make a difference. Yet there was nobody she could lament to about this, as in these tumultuous times, one should already count oneself lucky to be alive – who would care to listen to the insignificant woes of a little orphan girl? 

Once when Zhou Fei was home, and observed that Wu Chuchu was truly and listlessly unoccupied, she assigned her to do the first thing she could think of – in the battle with Cao Ning’s troops, which had nearly decimated the 48 Zhai, the already-meagre numbers of disciples in many of its constituent sects were further depleted, placing them further on the decline. The martial arts manuals that their predecessors left to them had also been in disarray for many years, as these were either missing pages and words, or covered in a thick layer of dust and mould. Many of these manuals were also practically incomprehensible by now, their pages overwhelmed with messy annotations by various pugilists over the years, and with numerous obscure references to all kinds of philosophies and schools of thought. Moreover, having been passed down orally by generation after generation of near-illiterate roughnecks, the errors they contained were as numerous as the holes in a sieve. Since Wu Chuchu just so happened to be extremely well-read, as a proper young lady was trained to be, Zhou Fei had gotten her to slowly straighten out the martial arts collection of the 48 Zhai.

Zhou Fei hadn’t actually expected much to come of this, as her main aim was to alleviate the girl’s boredom by having her copy texts in her free time. After all, it was quite absurd to think that a delicate young noblewoman, who had never trained a single day in martial arts, would be able to put together the martial arts manuals of a bunch of bandits. But Wu Chuchu seized upon this task as eagerly as if she’d been thrown a life raft, and dedicated herself to it wholeheartedly.

She’d first learnt a little about the meridians and pressure points of the body, so that she had some basic knowledge, and after she’d gotten a general idea of this, she started to copy the original texts in earnest. She started with those that were better preserved, which she could still mostly understand. Every time she came across a missing word or two, eaten by worms or crumbled away with rot and mold, she would often take a whole month or more to fill it in, not daring to make any mistakes. Yet as a well-bred gentlewoman that was introverted to boot – and who hadn’t even dared to initiate friendly conversation with strangers when she first arrived at the 48 Zhai – she was certainly far too shy to approach anyone here for help in this. So whenever she was unsure about anything, her only recourse was to write to Zhou Fei, who was miles away. Her letters to Zhou Fei could run into the tens of pages. Sometimes when Zhou Fei was deep in the mountains or forests somewhere, unable to receive any correspondence for several months, she would return to find a nearly one foot-high pile of Wu Chuchu’s letters waiting for her at the 48 Zhai’s secret posts. These letters would be full of questions that were most perplexing and esoteric in nature, which frequently left Zhou Fei quite stumped despite her solid foundation in martial arts. Those that truly baffled her even required help from other esteemed seniors to answer.

The improvement of Zhou Fei’s martial arts by leaps and bounds over the last few years could be owed in quite large part to the inquisitive Miss Wu and her million and one questions.

Over the past three years, Wu Chuchu had managed to restore a grand total of more than twenty martial arts manuals. While based on the numbers alone this seemed like a mere drop in the ocean, she’d gradually begun to get the hang of it, and had started to work on those manuals which were more challenging to comprehend. She’d even taken a stab at adding her own annotations.

Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Wu Chuchu smiled and said: “Once, when Li Yan took one of these restored manuals to read, Mistress Li found out and came to ask me if I wished to learn martial arts. I’d thought that at my age, it was a little too late to start doing so, but she said – ‘Since ancient times, there have been numerous people who accomplished great things only very late in life. Some who started their training only past middle age even went on to establish major sects, through some strokes of luck. Moreover, you’re barely even twenty, with a lot of life left ahead of you, and you aren’t in a great hurry to challenge anyone – what’s the matter with you starting your training later than others? As long as you have the will to do so, after training for one or two decades, even if there’s nothing special about your talent for it or your luck – and as long as you don’t try to fight with anyone for pride’s sake – it’ll more than suffice for you to get by. It’s certainly not too late.’”  

Zhou Fei looked at Wu Chuchu in surprise – Li Jinrong’s words were in the same vein as her words to Zhou Fei when teaching her the Snow-Breaking Sabre.

Li Jinrong was after all someone who’d dared to charge all the way North to assassinate the false Emperor at an incredibly young age. No matter how much she’d been worn down by the intervening years, there was still a defiant streak of ‘my way or the highway’ deep in her bones, that indomitable spirit clearly evident in her ‘Unrivalled’ moves. If it weren’t for the responsibility of leading the 48 Zhai that had weighed heavily on her shoulders all these years, she probably had the potential to take down the Mountain of the Living Dead and reign with terror in their place.

Wu Chuchu added: “And of course after I began learning martial arts, I really did start to gain a deeper understanding of what I’d previously read – so I’m here today to pay a visit to Old Mister Liu.” 

Zhou Fei asked: “Is that the local chief? What does he do?”

Wu Chuchu said: “Old Mister Liu used to be from the Tai Mountain Sect. While he was fairly well-known in his youth, he later retired from the martial arts world to run his family business, which comprises quite a sizeable fortune. Since I’ve recently been putting together the Qianzhong Sect’s manuals, Young Master Li mentioned to me that the Qianzhong Sect originally branched out from the Tai Mountain Sect, and its martial arts is of a similar form. So I wrote a letter to Old Mister Liu, in hopes of getting his advice on some of its elements.”

Wu Chuchu had once again taken Zhou Fei by surprise – this girl who used to be too shy to say any more than was necessary to Li Sheng had now written a letter to a stranger thousands of miles away!

“I really can’t get used to you calling that dunce ‘Young Master Li’,” said Zhou Fei. Then she asked: “Many pugilists are highly secretive about their martial arts techniques, and don’t teach others unless they are fellow sect members…did this Old Mister Liu really agree to it?”

“He did,” said Wu Chuchu happily. “Old Mister Liu has extensive business interests, and while he is no longer part of the martial arts world per se, he still enjoys making connections with all kinds of people. His business has done so well over the past few years precisely because of the help he’s gotten from his wide circle of friends. In his reply, he said that after the Heng Mountain Sect was decimated, the five major Mountain Sects[5] have also gone into successive decline over the last few years. Quite a number of their disciples have left the mountains to make a living for themselves before even completing their apprenticeships, which he’s found to be quite a pity. Moreover, since I’m studying the connections between the Qianzhong and Tai Mountain Sects, he said that he’d be quite happy if I manage to keep this branch of martial arts alive through my work one day.”   

Zhou Fei would never have expected a casual suggestion from her to result in so much progress by Wu Chuchu, who’d even managed to enlist a fellow oddball that was so willing to support her. She couldn’t help but marvel at the tenacity of man – if Wu Chuchu was able to achieve so much in just three short years, should she continue to pursue this single-mindedly for the next three decades, those martial arts of the central plains that had faded into obscurity over the past few years might actually see new life breathed into them through her work. 

“Oh,” said Zhou Fei, still marvelling at how far Wu Chuchu had come. “Was that flare just now from you?”

Wu Chuchu shook her head: “As Old Mister Liu’s mother is celebrating her birthday today, anyone passing through is welcome to attend the birthday banquet at his manor.  I’d planned to come two days later since he’d be too busy receiving guests today, but I decided to head over after seeing that flare.”

As the two girls were talking, they’d joined the crush of people who were all moving towards the Liu Manor in hopes of getting a free meal. Old Mister Liu seemed to be a man of great hospitality indeed, as the guests here were truly of all sorts – decked out in finery, and dressed in tatters. Regardless of how they looked, the servants received them all with smiles on their faces. As the inner courtyards of this radiantly-lit manor were already packed with guests, banquet tables had been set up all the way to the entrance of the property. After conveying their warm wishes to the man of the house, guests were free to sit wherever they pleased.

Wu Chuchu gave her name as well as Old Mister Liu’s letter to a servant out front, who hurried back into the manor with the letter. With nothing to do but wait, Zhou Fei started to look around her in boredom.

And promptly spied a familiar figure in the crowd.

The moon and stars shone brightly in the sky tonight, above the manor’s many flickering torches. The place was swarming with people moving back and forth whilst chattering noisily. Even amidst this cheerful hubbub, Zhou Fei recognised Wu Chuchu’s ‘Young Master Li’ immediately.

It didn’t seem like Li Yan was with him. Instead, he was with a group of handsome and elegant young men who looked like they’d walked straight out of a painting entitled ‘Gentlemen of Leisure’ – and seemed to be fitting right in. 

Zhou Fei thought to herself: I’ve been to the Eastern Sea and back already – why am I still running into this jinx out here? How annoying!

Li Sheng hadn’t spotted her, as he and his travel companions were currently engaged in a round of polite toasts. With that genial smile on his face which he reserved for strangers, Li Sheng was going round to each of those young gentleman clinking a tiny cup that was just large enough for a single mouthful of strong liquor.[6] Zhou Fei watched as he toasted all twenty of these men, putting on a big show of throwing his head back and downing every last drop each time. She had no idea how he’d managed to fool those snobbish dunces, as not once did she see him discreetly empty out his cup, yet he didn’t look the slightest bit tipsy. As she continued watching him, Zhou Fei found that Li Sheng’s gaze was in fact firmly fixed on a particular corner of this courtyard. While she glanced back and forth between Li Sheng and the spot he was looking at, she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Just as she was puzzling over this, a drunk man came staggering through the crowd, knocking into people everywhere he went.

This drunk bloke was grunting out a particularly bawdy little ditty, which elicited roars of laughter from quite a number of other boorish guests here. Yet he didn’t seem ashamed in the slightest, clumsily reaching for the flasks of wine on every table he passed and knocking over many of these in the process, before finally stumbling over to a table right in the corner. He flopped down hard on the chair and reached for the row of untouched wine flasks on this table. Zhou Fei nearly jumped, as only now did she realise that there was in fact a man dressed entirely in black seated at this corner table.

This black-clad man was skinny in a bony, almost emaciated way. Apart from the streaks of white at his temples, the rest of him seemed to practically meld into the dark night, making it very easy for one to miss him. This was who Li Sheng had been watching.

He looked up at the drunk man, staring him right in the eyes. This inebriated fellow who had been unsteady on his feet just seconds ago seemed to sober up all of a sudden, the little ditty faltering on his lips. Then scrambling to his feet, he made his way frantically back through the crowd. Even after he was some distance away, he kept peering nervously over his shoulder at the black-clad man. 

Zhou Fei was even more intrigued now. This black-clad man’s posture was ramrod straight. He had a little beard on his face, and a tranquil look in his eyes. He didn’t really seem like a frightening sort of person, and as Zhou Fei continued gazing at him, she began to find him oddly familiar. After wracking her brains for a minute, she gasped in recognition – he was the old Taoist priest Chong Xiaozi, who had given her that ratty copy of the Tao Te Ching and taught her the Mayflay Formation outside Yueyang City!

Zhou Fei thought to herself: Has he given up the priestly life?

While Chong Xiaozi was practically a stranger to her, the Tao Te Ching he’d given her had saved her life from Duan Jiuniang’s reckless experimentation. Now that she’d run into him again, good manners demanded that she approach and greet him at least. She decided that she would make her away towards him through the busy crowd.

But just as she started to move in his direction, this black-clad version of Chong Xiaozi seemed to sense this somehow, and abruptly shot a piercing glance in her direction. Before she could even nod at him in greeting, he had shiftily averted his gaze, springing to his feet and slipping away into the crowd.

Baffled by this, Zhou Fei made to go after him.

But every single tramp and beggar in these parts seemed to have turned up at the Liu Manor to get themselves a free dinner tonight, and kept getting in her way. Like a slippery black fish, Chong Xiaozi was on the verge of disappearing into the boisterous throng. 

Zhou Fei blurted out: “Senior!”

But just then, a large team of servants emerged from the interior of the manor bearing steaming platters of longevity buns,[7] walking in an orderly file right in between Zhou Fei and Chong Xiaozi. By the time they’d passed, he was nowhere to be found. Strains of music were heard – Old Mister Liu had hired a musical troupe for the night. A girl’s clear, sweet voice rang out from the inner courtyard.

Zhou Fei rested the tip of Skies Shatter on the ground and turned to look at Li Sheng again, only to realise that he too was gone. She furrowed her brow as she thought to herself: Did Chong Xiaozi recognise me? But why did he hide from me then?

Wu Chuchu had finally manged to jostle her way through the crowd to reach Zhou Fei. Tapping her on the shoulder, she yelled into her ear: “Why are you all the way over here?”

She had a towering stack of books in her arms, which she was carefully shielding from the bustling crowd.

Zhou Fei quickly took half of them from her, asking: “What are these?”

“They’re from Old Mister Liu,” said Wu Chuchu. “His servant said that as it’s far too crowded in his manor today, he won’t be able to sit down and have a proper conversation with me. He’s extremely sorry about that, and so he’s passed me his personal notes on martial arts that he’s compiled over the years.”

Even a real shifu probably wouldn’t be this thoughtful towards his own disciples.

Wu Chuchu said: “But it’s not very polite for us to just leave like this, is it? Shouldn’t we at least thank him in person?”

Zhou Fei didn’t have any objections, as she was also eager to see what kind of person this Old Mister Liu was. The two girls carefully made their way into the inner courtyard of the manor.

Every single surface of this courtyard was covered with people – some had even clambered atop its walls for a seat. A colossal stage had been erected in the centre of the courtyard, on which several comely maidens were performing music. It was a lively scene indeed.

Just when the two of them had found an unoccupied corner to stand in, the musicians got to their feet all at once, and gracefully filed off the stage.

A gong sounded in the courtyard, causing the clamorous crowd to fall silent.

A jolly-looking middle-aged man stood up from amongst the banquet tables. This was evidently the master of the house, Old Mister Liu. He was barely five feet tall, and round as can be – a swift kick would probably send him flying into the air like a ball. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled kindly.

Old Mister Liu didn’t address the crowd at once. He first made a big show of looking high and low for a small ladder, which he waddled up on those stubby legs of his. Then surveying the crowd and determining that he was now taller than everyone else, he gave an exaggerated nod of satisfaction. Amidst his guests’ laughter, he bowed slightly and said: “Go on, go on, laugh at my expense.”

Hearing their raucous laughter, he looked quite pleased with himself as he adjusted his robes and declared: “Today is my mother’s eighty-fourth birthday. And as you know, the saying goes ‘Seventy-three, Eighty-Four, that’s when the grim reaper comes knocking at your door’[8]…”

The crowd burst into laughter once again, as a tiny wizened old lady sitting beside the stage sprang to her feet and started energetically whacking him with the fan in her hand, hollering: “You little scoundrel, how dare you curse me!”

Old Mister Liu covered his head with his hands as he dodged his mother’s blows. He had a big head and short arms, which made this quite a sight. Grinning widely, he said: “Oh but mother, do let me finish – I was going to say that I vehemently refuse to believe that saying, which is why I’ve invited everyone here tonight to celebrate you. All the well wishes you receive today will chase away any of that bad luck! Thank you to all of you for gracing my humble abode with your presence tonight. You most definitely must eat and drink to your heart’s content – consider every bite of meat you take a blessing to her health…”

Somebody in the crowd spit out his wine, and the entire courtyard full of people roared with laughter. The eighty-four year old matriarch was so incensed that she grabbed her walking stick and hobbled towards the stage with the support of her two handmaidens, intending to clobber her son off of it. Old Mister Liu covered his head with his hands, running from her blows while crying: “Mother! Mother! I haven’t even brought your present out for everyone to see – hey, hey! You should leave me some semblance of dignity at least.”

Those musicians backstage were also a mischievous lot, proceeding to strike up a lively accompaniment to this rib-tickling scene. The songstress’ peals of laughter could be heard, as the fleshy ball of a man that was Old Mister Liu ran every which way across the stage. The edges of her skirts peeked out from backstage as she prepared to go back out to sing another song. The blokes perched on the walls of this courtyard craned their necks to get a better look at her, all ready to explode with cheers once she stepped out on stage. But all of a sudden, something seemed to come over the rambunctious crowd. A deathly silence started to spread like the plague from the outskirts of the crowd towards the inner courtyard.

As this hush of dread continued to spread from person to person, one of the musicians backstage plucked a string on the zither, before realising belatedly that something was amiss. This zitherist abruptly pressed a palm down on the instrument’s quivering strings, causing them to scrape against the zither’s wooden board with a piercing screech that sounded all the more jarring in this eerie quiet. Sensing the tension in the air, the people in this courtyard glanced towards its entrance with bewilderment. A servant jostled his way through the crowd, his face deathly pale: “Master, Master, out-outside, there’s…”

Before he could finish his sentence, there came a great commotion in the crowd behind him, as if they had been given an immense fright.

And then shortly after, several men in iron masks swept into the courtyard, like a host of devils who had emerged from the abyss to prowl this earth. The packed crowd instantly parted before them, nervously huddling together as far away from them as possible, leaving these uninvited guests a large space in the centre of the courtyard.

Zhou Fei heard hushed whispers all around of ‘Iron-Faced Devil’.

Wu Chuchu murmured into her ear: “They look like Young Master Yin’s men.”

Zhou Fei stroked her thumb lightly against the hilt of Skies Shatter, growling: “Not that pesky bugger again.”

Anyone who hadn’t been living under a rock would long since have heard of Yin Pei’s prodigious achievements over the past few years, his seemingly infinite capacity for wickedness far surpassing all four of those former devils of the Mountain of the Living Dead. 

Furrowing her brow, Wu Chuchu said anxiously: “On my way here, I heard people say that he’s recently started to roam these parts, but I didn’t think that was actually true…he wouldn’t be out to harm Old Master Liu, would he?” Sighing, she said: “How did Young Master Yin end up like this?” 

Zhou Fei didn’t reply, as her gaze swept across the panicked faces of this dumbstruck crowd – that distressflare, Li Sheng, Chong Xiaozi…something about this banquet didn’t seem quite right.

The zitherist backstage was clearly nervous as well, as the zither’s strings squeaked shrilly against its wooden board. The elderly matriarch who had just been enthusiastically chasing after her son was now shaking like a leaf, so frightened out of her wits that she required the support of her two handmaidens to remain upright.

Old Mister Liu signalled to the two handmaidens, who promptly helped the elderly lady to the side. Wiping the smile from his face, he stepped forward and addressed the masked man leading the pack: “Anyone who comes here tonight is my guest. Would you gentlemen care to take a seat at my table?”

The people still seated here swiftly rose to their feet, evidently averse to having such masked men as their neighbours. But these men simply formed an orderly row before Old Mister Liu, turned their backs to him and knelt to the ground with well-trained uniformity. Then shortly after, several more masked men came in bearing a rattan sedan atop their shoulders,[9] on which sat a man in an iron mask. The man’s sickly white hand dangled off the armrest. A ghastly bug was crouched on the back of his hand, its feelers quivering in the air. This man was so thin that he was a mere shell of a person. The cheeks beneath his mask were completely sunken in, making his pointed chin look even sharper. While he was not more than thirty years of age, loose wrinkled skin already hung down both sides of his mouth, causing his greenish-purple lips to droop downwards. He looked barely human. 

This shadow of a man didn’t seem the slightest bit familiar to Zhou Fei, apart from that empty scabbard of the Sword of Mountains and Rivers which hung at his waist. She couldn’t help but ask Wu Chuchu: “Is this fellow really Yin Pei?”

Wu Chuchu shivered involuntarily, goosebumps appearing on the back of her hand.

When the sedan was lowered to the ground, Yin Pei didn’t get off at once. Only when one of his sedan-bearers knelt prostrate on the ground before him did he rise lazily to his feet, and step on the back of this masked man to dismount. Zhou Fei noticed that this human footstool sported a familiar tattoo of a tortoise on his wrist, which Li Yan had once poked fun at – he had been one of Ding Kui’s men!

“My, my, how festive it is in here,” said Yin Pei with a sinister grin, his foot still resting on the masked man’s back.

Perhaps he was simply too horrifying to behold – the zitherist backstage accidentally brushed a hand against the strings again, producing yet another screech. In this courtyard so quiet you could hear a pin drop, that dissonant chord seemed to be amplified a hundred times.

Zhou Fei’s ears twitched. She shot a keen glance towards the stage, as that sound was strangely familiar. 

Old Mister Liu’s face was tense as he spoke: “Good sir, are you by any chance the ‘Qing Hui Spiritual Master’?”

A corner of the man’s lips quirked upwards. His slender, green-tinged fingers brushed lightly over that ghastly bug. Its feelers started to quiver with excitement, and it chirped in a way that made one’s skin crawl.

“Mr Liu, haven’t you received my letter?” sneered Yin Pei behind his iron mask. “Have you prepared what I asked for?”

Old Mister Liu’s plump cheeks trembled: “It’s my mother’s birthday banquet today, and I have many friends here. Give me just one day more – I’ll send over all the silver you want by then.”

Yin Pei smiled faintly and said: “Birthday banquet, you say? Then we’ve come at just the right time. We simply must drink a toast to your mother…eh, what is that?”

He looked over at two servants who were standing beside the stage, carrying a wooden chest between them. These two poor souls started to quake uncontrollably under his gaze, like toads within the sights of a venomous snake. Their knees were knocking together so hard that they could barely stand.

Cold sweat was pouring off Old Master Liu’s face. He said in a strained voice: “It’s my  mother’s birthday present.”

Yi Pei gave an ‘Ah’, before asking: “And what might it be?”

An old man in steward’s garb who was standing beside those servants bowed deeply at Yin Pei, his head nearly grazing the ground as he said nervously: “It is…an ancient, ancient relic, said to be a precious pearl from the Dragon King’s jaws. When held in one’s mouth, it makes one invulnerable to a hundred poisons…”

“Oh,” said Yin Pei with a nod. He stroked the ghastly bug on his hand with indifference. “I suppose such a pearl might be considered quite rare and exotic. Now that you mention it, I remember seeing the elders in my family receive a pearl like this once, but after our family’s fortunes declined, its whereabouts were unknown. Come to think of it, such an object might not be of great value, although it’s just the thought behind such a gift that counts – bring it to me so I can have a look.”

From Yin Pei’s words, it was obvious to Zhou Fei that this pearl had belonged to the Yin Clan at some point, though it subsequently came into Old Mister Liu’s possession somehow, and Yin Pei was here to reclaim it. She felt a twinge of sadness – while Yin Pei was ardently trying to recover the Yin Clan’s former possessions, he’d reduced his own self, the sole remaining descendant of this clan, to such a wretched state.  

Not a single person in the Liu Manor dared make a move. The smile on Yin Pei’s lips instantly faded. Drawing them into a thin, tight line, he said menacingly: “What is it, am I not allowed to do so?”

His voice went up several decibels when he said this. That ghastly bug on his hand turned its little head in the direction of the wooden chest, its pair of feelers vibrating vigorously. One of the servants carrying it collapsed to the ground with a thud. The air in this courtyard was taut with tension, its buoyant atmosphere gone without a trace.

Zhou Fei felt her eyes start to twitch. Pulling Wu Chuchu behind her, she muttered almost to herself: “Is this really Yin Pei?”

“Do you think something’s up?” While Wu Chuchu had initially been quite certain of it, she found herself doubting this now. She hesitated before saying: “But apart from Yin Pei, don’t those ghastly bugs turn anyone else they touch into a shrivelled up shell of a person? Young Master Li told me that such parasites usually only acknowledge one master…”

“Shhh,” said Zhou Fei, putting a finger to her lips as she said: “That so-called ‘Young Master Li’ doesn’t know what he’s talking about half the time, don’t believe all the nonsense he tells you.”

Her last few words were so soft they were nearly inaudible. She was already on edge.

Just then, there was a crash from behind the stage, as if the zither had accidentally slipped from its owner’s hands. Its strings scraped across the ground with a grating screech. This sound bore right into Zhou Fei’s ears, seemingly magnified a thousand times in that moment. An inexplicable tingle travelled from her ears down to the rest of her body, which made Zhou Fei jump.

Zhou Fei felt her heart quicken. She muttered: “…Could it be her?”

Wu Chuchu asked: “Who is it?”

Every single person in the Liu Manor right now was looking at Yin Pei and his entourage. Only Zhou Fei’s gaze was turned towards the stage. She said softly: “The Feathercloud Troupe…the zitherist backstage is Madame Cirrus.”

Wu Chuchu was stunned: “What? How do you know? Are you sure?”

She knew that Zhou Fei had never cared for artistic pursuits, and certainly didn’t know much about music – and even if she were a connoisseur, it was beyond incredible that she would be able to discern the musician’s identity from a few solitary notes. 

Zhou Fei couldn’t tell her how she’d knew. All of her energy seemed to have been focused on her ears just now, such that every single breath and current of wind around her was thrown into sharp relief, resonating in harmony with the chi flowing through her meridians. All of these breaths swirled every which way around her, similar yet subtly different. She had no way of describing what this mix of sensations felt like, just that it was the vaguest, haziest of feelings, the shadowy outlines of an intuition taking shape behind a thin layer of translucent paper, like a figure silhouetted against a window – which told her that the zitherist behind the stage was Madame Cirrus. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Over the last few months, every time Zhou Fei focused her energies on something to a certain degree, she would glimpse such dark figures silhouetted against that ‘window’ which she could just never seem to open, so near yet so far.

And once she got the slightest bit distracted, this strange sensation would instantly fade away. So when Wu Chuchu asked her how she’d known, Zhou Fei had absolutely no idea what to say.

Just then, the Liu Manor’s old steward stepped forward and grabbed the chest from the trembling servant. He thrust his chin out and said: “At the ripe old age of seventy, I’ve already had my fill of life. If none of you dare do it, let me be the one to send it over – Qing Hui Spiritual Master, since you want to have a look, then here you go!”

The old steward marched grimly towards Yin Pei bearing the chest aloft, as if he were going to his death. Two of the masked men kneeling on the ground stopped him before he could reach Yin Pei. The old steward stomped his foot hard and said angrily: “What is it now, dare you not have a look?”

Yin Pei quirked a brow, but proceeded to raise his chin slightly. These two masked men dutifully stepped forward and lifted the lid of the wooden chest. 

The very instant the lid was lifted, that ghastly bug on Yin Pei’s hand suddenly reared up on its hind legs and emitted a skin-crawling whine, shrill and sharp, the two rows of legs on its underbelly waving madly in the air. At this sight, even the ‘human step-stool’ beneath Yin Pei’s foot started to shake like a leaf, the cold sweat that poured off him forming a puddle on the ground like a tattered dishcloth that hadn’t been wrung dry.

This chest was fairly large, requiring two people to carry it comfortably, although the precious pearl within was merely the size of a dove’s egg. Old Mister Liu had displayed it in a most ostentatious fashion – the chest contained a two foot-long tank of water made entirely of crystal, in which several fiery red stalks of coral were artfully arranged. Brackets of gold wire were attached to its branches, and the largest and reddest coral right in the centre had a splendid shell made of jade and gold sitting atop it. On it lay the pearl in all its glory. It was turquoise in colour, with a lustrous shine that reflected the gently rippling water beneath. Under the moonlit sky, it shone even brighter than those luminous pearls in Xie Yun’s cave.

Such a treasure would certainly have elicited a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from this crowd under normal circumstances. But Yin Pei in the flesh was evidently far more ‘awe-inspiring’ than an inanimate object, such that despite the unveiling of this priceless pearl he remained firmly at the centre of everyone’s attention.

It was said that this pearl could make a person invulnerable to all manner of poisons, even the toxic miasma that hung over the bogs and swamps of the southern frontiers. As long as a person had it on him, no snakes or bugs or any kind of poisonous critters would dare go near him. Yet for some reason, the ghastly bug on Yin Pei’s hand became inordinately excited at the sight of it. It shot off Yin Pei’s fingertip like a bolt of lightning, greedily heading straight for that open chest, its gruesome mouth agape. Even Yin Pei himself hadn’t expected this to happen. As he stared at it in stunned silence, the old steward violently flung the chest’s contents at the oncoming bug with a roar! 

The pearl and those precious corals which were worth a king’s ransom clattered across the ground. To everyone’s amazement, the water in that crystal tank morphed into a liquid arrow which swept the ghastly bug away and hurtled towards Yin Pei!   

Knocked out of the air by this ‘water’, the dazed bug landed precisely on the face of that ‘human footstool’ kneeling prostrate on the ground. The man shrieked in terror, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fainted on the spot. But instead of burrowing into his flesh, that ghastly bug spasmed drowsily as if it were drunk, before curling up into a ball and lying still.

At the same time, Yin Pei flung his arms out as he levitated up off the ground, his wide sleeves fluttering in the breeze. He moved rapidly backwards through the air to land on his sedan, safely out of that watery arrow’s reach. The strings of the zither backstage suddenly started to rattle wildly, like a clarion call to battle.

Orderly ranks of pugilists who had been disguising themselves in the crowd suddenly burst through the frenzied throng, pushing the other unwitting guests to the periphery. They charged at Yin Pei from all around, as several people who were perched atop the low walls of this courtyard signalled at them with small flags to direct their attack. Zhou Fei spotted quite a few familiar faces – most of those people atop the walls were from the 48 Zhai! 

As she continued watching from her corner of the courtyard, she found that these pugilists had managed to swiftly divide up Yin Pei’s entourage of masked men, making it easier to take them out one by one. They moved in an intricate and coordinated manner, in a tactical formation directed by those little flags atop the walls. This was without question the work of a certain Young Master Li!

And then with a tremendous crash, the massive stage was cleaved in two right down the middle. Madame Cirrus came soaring out in a burst of colour, her robes fluttering round her as she skimmed across the heads of the crowd like a blazing ball of fire. Opening her palms, she unleashed three zither strings that were as sharp as those metal strings in the Ink-Washing River, which swept towards Yin Pei with a high-pitched whine.  

Yin Pei’s feet didn’t even budge as he knocked those strings aside with a flick of his wide sleeve. But before he could reciprocate, he heard the whoosh of arrows hurtling towards his back – Yin Pei jerked his head around to find that he was being attacked by none other than Old Mister Liu’s eighty-four year old mother! 

That old woman who’d been barely able to keep herself upright was now standing ramrod straight, wielding a dragon-head crossbow capable of firing a dozen arrows at once. It was obvious from her posture alone that this was no old lady. Like a leaf carried on the breeze, Yin Pei floated up off his sedan, springing lightly on his toes off the armrest and then the high back of the seat. Every single one of his movements was incredibly elegant, almost beautiful, while that flimsy rattan sedan stayed amazingly and completely still beneath his feet.  

Having failed to hurt Yin Pei, Madame Cirrus quickly spun back and landed several metres away from him. Yin Pei had deftly avoided an onslaught of a dozen arrows, which hadn’t even brushed the corners of his clothes. Despite being ambushed by two top pugilists, not once had his feet touched the ground.

The martial arts of this devil had reached truly appalling heights.

Treading lightly and almost lazily across the armrest of his sedan, Yin Pei tucked behind his ear a stray lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead: “So was this pearl intended as bait for me? I suppose I should thank all of you for your trouble!”

With several loud creaks, the body of that crossbow-wielding ‘old lady’ lengthened more than three inches in height, while its shoulders widened by a hand’s breadth – some kind of bone-shrinking technique had been used. Then this ‘old lady’ raised a hand to her face, ripping off a layer of prosthetic wrinkles. This was no wizened hag, but a short and stocky middle-aged man! 

This man pointed angrily at Yin Pei, thundering: “Iron-Faced Devil, when you slaughtered all twenty members of my Zou Clan for no reason whatsoever, did you ever think that such a day would come?”

“Zou?” mused Yin Pei, cocking his head to one side. Standing there atop the armrest with his hands clasped behind his back, his emaciated frame swimming in his oversized robes, he looked very much like a vengeful ghost that was liable to float off any second now. “What did they do? When did this happen? I really can’t remember.”

This man from the Zou Clan looked aghast for a second, before seething: “You little…”

Yin Pei chuckled lowly: “It’s simply the law of the jungle, which has prevailed since time immemorial, like how falcons prey on rabbits, and wolves hunt sheep – would you be able to tell me the name that the pork on your plate had when it was still a pig? It’s your own fault that you’re the meat instead of the butcher.”

The stocky man charged at Yin Pei with a roar, while the rest of the pugilists continued fighting with Yin Pei’s masked men. While Zhou Fei had been gripping the hilt of Skies Shatter, she suddenly let it go, letting her hand fall to her side. She leaned against the wall of this courtyard, coolly observing the scene unfolding before her.

Wu Chuchu said: “That’s strange – if whatever Old Mister Liu placed in that crystal tank can attract those ghastly bugs like moths to a flame, why has only one emerged so far? I remember that back then…”

As she said this, Madame Cirrus, that stocky man, and other pugilists who Zhou Fei didn’t recognise tightly surrounded the rattan sedan, and lunged at Yin Pei all at once.

Yin Pei’s powers were truly extraordinary, as he showed not the slightest hint of weakness even under such an onslaught.

But his masked men had no such luck, routed in short order thanks to the shifting formation of pugilists engineered by Li Sheng, who had remained hidden this entire time. Then someone blew a long, shrill whistle, and Madame Cirrus gave a shout as she flung a long strip of white silk out at Yin Pei. The rest followed her lead, and a profusion of whips, chains and such were simultaneously lashed at him, entwining themselves round his four limbs. 

Yin Pei sneered as his sleeves billowed wildly once more. 

Madame Cirrus bellowed: “Retreat!”

All of these pugilists immediately let go of their weapons and backed away from Yin Pei. As soon as they did so, there was a cacophony of cracking, splitting and ripping noises – Yin Pei had used his extraordinary internal strength to shatter this assortment of weapons into smithereens!

Fragments of Madame Cirrus’ strip of white silk swirled elegantly in midair like a flutter of snowy butterflies, temporarily obscuring Yin Pei’s vision. And right then, the entire floor of this courtyard sunk downwards. With a series of tremendous clanks, twenty-eight massive iron chains came hurtling up from beneath the ground, lashing out at Yin Pei with sudden force.

These iron chains clinked menacingly as they latched onto each other, forming a cage around the fearsome ‘Qing Hui Spiritual Master’ and trapping him securely within. Yin Pei thrashed around in fury, shaking the very foundations of this courtyard, making its stone slabs rattle precariously. Looks of apprehension emerged on the faces of the pugilists around him, who instinctively backed away further.

Old Mister Liu said: “You shouldn’t waste your energy struggling, Qing Hui Spiritual Master. The name of this device is the ‘Lock of Earth’s Gate’, which alongside the ‘Lock of Heaven’s Gate’ is the work of a renowned locksmith from ancient times. Even if you had the power to ascend to the heavens, or burrow to the depths of the earth, there is no way you would be able to break free. The chains have also been smeared with an alcoholic tincture called ‘Rush of Fire’, which was specially concocted by a poisons expert. This is no poison per se, but all manner of venomous insects and snakes will fall dead drunk once they catch the slightest whiff of it. Those Nirvana Parasites of yours will cause no harm for the time being.”

As he said this, someone used gloves to pick up that ghastly bug which had landed on the ground just now and fling it into the flames of a nearby torch. That bug’s scaly surface glinted in the fire for a second before it was consumed by the fire, emitting a horribly foul stench.

His crossbow in hand, that stocky fellow marched up to the metal cage and said: “Iron-Faced Devil, I swear to god I’ll skin you alive!”

Madame Cirrus furrowed her brow: “Brother Zou, didn’t we agree beforehand that we would…”

But the man’s eyes were bloodshot with anger: “What did we agree to? Blood must be repaid with blood, as debts must be repaid in full! I bear a mortal grudge against this person – if I do not gouge his heart out today, whither the justice in this world?”

Just as Madame Cirrus opened her mouth to speak, the encaged Yin Pei threw his head back and shook with laughter: “Justice!? Justice!? Ha ha ha ha!”

His laughter was extremely shrill, with a touch of rawest despair to it. It echoed eerily round the Liu Manor like the mournful wails of an aggrieved ghost. And then, the most terrifying thing happened that made everyone’s hair stand on end – this laughter grew louder and louder, seeming to reverberate endlessly and even multiply, coming from everywhere and converging into one.

“Justice—”

“Ha ha! Whither justice…”

“Ha ha ha ha…”

Zhou Fei yanked Wu Chuchu back by the shoulder, and shoved her inside a cavern embedded within a large outcropping of fake rock.

Wu Chuchu exclaimed: “Fei!”

“Shhh, don’t move, and don’t come out.” Zhou Fei paused for a moment, before saying half-jokingly: “You’re still needed to preserve the martial arts of the central plains!” She glanced over her shoulder at Wu Chuchu with a faint smile.

Wu Chuchu looked aghast at this heavy responsibility that had suddenly come crashing down onto her shoulders.

Just as Zhou Fei had managed to hide Wu Chuchu away, masked men carrying seventeen identical rattan sedans came barging into this courtyard from all directions, each of these sedans bearing seventeen other ‘Yin Pei’s who looked just like the one currently ensnared within the Lock of Earth’s Gate!

All of these ‘Yin Pei’s spoke at the same time: “Who is it, that dares to kill me?”

---

[1] The Grand Chancellor was the highest-ranking executive official in the imperial Chinese government. Liang Shao was basically Zhao Yuan’s closest advisor.

[2] 陈俊夫 – This is a very common-sounding name, as it literally just means ‘handsome man’, whereas more refined Chinese names are often more auspicious or aspirational, like about luck or wealth or nation-building or the embodiment of noble values.

[3] Bai Juyi (772 – 846) was a renowned Chinese poet and Tang dynasty government official. He seemed to have a fondness for azaleas and wrote several poems about them. They look something like this.

[4] Zhou Fei wrote the Chinese characters ‘王八’ – a slang word for tortoises, which also roughly means ‘cuckold’. You might recall back in Book 3 Chapter 4, Zhou Fei also insulted Xie Yun this way by carving tortoises into his flute when she was pissed at him for running away.

[5] The Five Mountain Sword Sects was a martial arts alliance comprising the Tai Mountain Sect, Heng Mountain Sect, Hua Mountain Sect, Song Mountain Sect, and Heng Mountain Sect.

[6] Probably looked something like this.

[7] These are peach-shaped buns filled with a sweet red bean/lotus paste filling that are meant to represent long life. They are a representation of the Peaches of Immortality in Chinese folk legends, which ripen every thousands of years and grant immortality to humans when consumed. The buns are typically served at the birthdays of elderly people. The buns look something like this.

[8] I’ve tweaked this Chinese saying so it’s easier to understand, but the actual saying is something like “seventy-three, eighty-four, the King of Hell need not invite you down there, as you’d go there yourself.” Basically people thought it more likely that they would die at those two ages, as Confucius died at the age of 73 while Mencius died at the age of 84. If even such revered sages couldn’t escape death at those ages, ordinary people shouldn’t expect to do any better.  

[9] Looks something like this.