SS CH5

Since ancient times, the orthodox and the unorthodox could not coexist. People of the Jianghu viewed the righteous path and the evil sects as completely distinct and utterly separated. However, there would always be those who crossed the the Chu River and Han Border, trampling upon the bottom lines of the mundane world to live their lives as an audacious, glaring thorn.

Some were cleanly uprooted and crushed to dust, while others dug into the flesh and took root, growing unfathomably deep.

The former were mostly reckless grass-roots thugs whose ambitions were higher than the heavens, but whose skills were lower than their feet. Possessing the grand aspiration of a toad wanting to eat swan meat, they spent their wretched lives merely splashing about in puddles. At most, they caused a few painless, superficial troubles for the major orthodox sects and were never truly placed in anyone’s eyes. After all, the Jianghu was vast; there was no fear that it couldn’t accommodate a few clownish jumping beans just waiting to die.

But in this bottomless muddy swamp of the Jianghu, those who could be counted among the latter were far too few. So few that, looking across the entire world, there was only Hundred Ghosts Sect—a massive thorn growing tall enough to support heaven and earth. Not only did they eat from both the black and white paths and occupy both the righteous and the evil sides, but they also acted entirely as they pleased. They were never afraid of stirring up trouble, and they were even better at resolving it.

No one knew exactly how many people there were in the Jianghu, and naturally, no one knew exactly how many “Ghosts” were in Hundred Ghosts Sect. They had no past, and one could not see their future. Yet, they hid within every dark corner of the present, transforming into maggots attached to the bones of their prey, never resting until death.

Gathering intelligence, posting assassination bounties, trading in medicine and poison, dealing in weapons and hidden projectiles… there was nothing they dared to think but didn’t dare to do. If there was, it was only because the Sect Master currently had a brain clogged with tofu dregs and simply hadn’t thought it through yet.

The Hundred Ghosts had always been seen by their shadows rather than their true forms. The ones widely renowned in the Jianghu were merely a sparse few, and the Gui Yi (Ghost Physician) Sun Minfeng was precisely one of them.

A healer’s benevolent heart; miraculous hands that bring back the spring of life. The latter half of that phrase wasn’t worthy of Sun Minfeng’s peerless medical skills that dared to fight with ghosts and gods for a life. As for the first half, putting it on him was practically an insult to those four words. Anyone who actively sought him out for medical treatment had mostly eaten the hearts of bears and the gallbladders of leopards (recklessly brave).

The reason was none other than this: a doctor cannot treat himself. Sun Minfeng carried a chronic, incurable illness—in his brain.

Half mad, half awake; his joy and anger completely unpredictable.

Leaning against the railing, gazing out at the wind-blown rain, a subtle fragrance drifted through the air, casting silent shadows.

Xie Wuyi took off his heavy cloak and sat facing his guests, dressed in a long white robe with black patterns. His thin, gaunt face carried a deep frown, and his pale, slightly bluish lips were drawn together like a thin blade. He wasn’t aggressively imposing, yet a bone-deep coldness seeped from him. “The request made by the Gui Yi is forcing another to do what is beyond his power.”

Two people sat across from him. The black-clad young man who had exchanged glances with Ye Fusheng earlier was currently holding a teacup and taking a light sip, as steady and unbothered as a grand Buddha statue enshrined on an altar. The other was a man in plain white robes, looking to be about thirty years old. His eyebrows and eyes seemed painted with ink, and his lips drawn with watercolors—faint and pale to the extreme. Yet, when he lowered his eyes and curled his lips, a trace of demonic allure leaked out, as if a vibrant, heavy stroke of ink had suddenly been added to blue-and-white porcelain.

Sun Minfeng poured some white medicinal powder into his own teacup and used a silver needle to lazily stir it. Instantly, a refreshing, heart-seeping fragrance filled the room. It was rich like wine, yet even more intoxicating than wine.

He drank this bizarre tea down like a cow chewing peonies. Smacking his lips, he smiled, “Forcing another to do what is beyond his power, or sitting still and waiting for death. I’m not forcing you, am I?”

The knuckles of Xie Wuyi’s hand, resting on the corner of the table, were distinctly defined, with blue veins bulging beneath the skin. Yet his tone remained indifferent. “I, Xie, can be a dead man, but I absolutely cannot be a crippled man.”

Sun Minfeng didn’t reply. Instead, the black-clad young man beside him raised his head: “This lowly one has heard that Manor Lord Xie did not accept the challenge letter sent by Zanghun Gong. The name of Duanshui Manor has not yet appeared on the battle board for the Duofeng Assembly.”

Xie Wuyi’s face was expressionless. “Objects belonging to petty scoundrels are not worth dirtying my hands.”

“Then on the Duofeng Assembly, is the seat of Duanshui Manor going to be left empty?” The black-clad young man set down his teacup, his tone filled with teasing interest. “Manor Lord Xie, who knows how many pairs of eyes are currently staring at the signboard of Duanshui Manor right now? Whether you refuse to fight or accept the invitation, every single move you make carries massive implications… Sending Miss Xue to travel thousands of li (miles) to invite the Gui Yi here—is this not the choice Manor Lord Xie has already made? We don’t want much. Is a single Duanshui Dao more important than your life?”

Xie Wuyi: “Yes.”

“Then I want it even more.” The black-clad young man hooked the corners of his lips. “Manor Lord Xie, right now Duanshui Manor is surrounded by powerful enemies. With your current ruined body, can you withstand the open spears and hidden arrows? The Duanshui Dao is heavier than your life, but compared to Duanshui Manor, I wonder which is heavier and which is lighter?”

Xie Wuyi looked at him for a moment, then picked up the teapot to refill his cup: “This gentleman is…”

“My surname is Chu. Chu Xiwei.” The black-clad young man raised an eyebrow, his fingers slowly rubbing against the side of the cup. “I have long heard the name of the Number One Saber in the World. Visiting today, I’ve realized that seeing it in person is not as good as hearing its name.”

“In the Jianghu, those who fish for fame and compliments, and those who falsely claim unearned titles are as numerous as carp crossing the river. I, Xie, have never dared to claim to be ‘Number One’.” Xie Wuyi slowly began to smile. The corners of his eyes lifted slightly, and his lips curved up, making this man in his thirties look somewhat charming. However, his eyes were far too cold—gloomy and profound, reflecting an icy, chilling glimmer, exactly like a blade silently drawn from its sheath.

“Eighty-two battles in the Western Regions made your name famous across the world; at the Martial Arts Saber and Sword Assembly, you defeated all heroes. The Duanshui of the past drew the moon’s shadow and startled the wild goose. Now, the moon-drawing is gone without a trace, and the startled goose’s song has ended. Only Duanshui still remains in this world. If the title above Manor Lord Xie’s head is merely an empty reputation, who else in the Jianghu would dare act arrogant?” Chu Xiwei gave a light laugh. “What disappoints me is that you, Manor Lord, can pick it up, but you cannot put it down.”

Xie Wuyi narrowed his eyes. “The Sect Master of Hundred Ghosts Sect truly knows the details intimately. Unfortunately, the matters of this world can never be fully controlled in one’s hands. Sect Master Chu only knows the first part but not the second. Not having placed yourself in my shoes, it is naturally easy for you to speak.”

Sun Minfeng drank down the remaining half-pot of tea and interjected, “You two who mutually appreciate and sympathize with each other can pause for a moment. Let’s continue discussing business. I wonder if Manor Lord Xie wants to use the Duanshui Dao to exchange for the chance to ‘Change Sinews and Exchange Blood’, or close your doors, send off your guests, and live or die together with your manor?”

Xie Wuyi replied, “Important matters require careful consideration.”

“One, two, three. Can you give your careful answer now?”

“Mister Sun,” Chu Xiwei pressed down on his shoulder. “The Zhengfeng Assembly begins in seven days. Manor Lord Xie is more anxious than we are. Why pester him over this brief moment?”

Sun Minfeng stopped talking and poured the tea leaves from his cup into his mouth to chew on. Xie Wuyi stood up and said, “I will give my answer tomorrow. Chanyi, take our esteemed guests to the Songtao Courtyard.”

Just at this moment, a servant ran over in a wretched state and whispered a few words into the ear of Xue Chanyi, who had been waiting outside the door the entire time. A look of fury instantly appeared on the Eldest Miss Xue’s beautiful face.

Holding her breath, Xue Chanyi signaled the butler to lead the guests away. Then, she walked to Xie Wuyi’s side, her tone urgent: “Shifu, someone broke into the Lingbo Pavilion and stole the Duanshui Dao. The guards have now chased him all the way to the vicinity of Wanghaichao!”

With a crisp crash, the teacup smashed onto the floor. Xie Wuyi’s features instantly froze over with cold.

Guyang City was a mountain city. Surrounded by mountains on three sides and facing the water on one, it possessed countless valleys and wild forests. Although Duanshui Manor was no longer in its prime, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse. It was situated in a remote area in the east of the city. Aside from the manor itself, it also owned the continuous ten miles of mountain peaks behind it. The area it occupied was incredibly vast. Taking a step forward, one could mix into the bustling city streets; taking a step back, one could roam free in the mountain forests.

Wanghaichao was a sheer cliff located on the back mountain of Duanshui Manor. The mountain terrain was steep, filled with jagged, bizarrely shaped rocks. Beneath the cliff lay a massive river. The water currents changed in the blink of an eye. One moment, it was as turbulent as massive waves washing the sand; the next, it was as chillingly desolate and still as a freezing pool. A moment’s negligence would result in being swept away by the undercurrents. Even if a White Stripe in the Waves (an expert swimmer) fell in, it wouldn’t take more than an hour or two before they floated up with their belly facing the sky.

The Duanshui Daofa (Water-Severing Saber Art) took its meaning from ‘drawing a blade to sever water’. The imposing momentum within the blade techniques—shifting between terrifying, storm-tossed waves and a long, continuous stream of fine water—was derived right here from Wanghaichao. This was the place where past generations of Manor Lord practiced their martial arts and honed their saber skills. Because of this, it became the forbidden grounds of Duanshui Manor. Whenever a Manor Lord from any generation passed away, their ashes were to be buried into this great river, flowing with the water, returning to heaven and earth.

The night deepened, and the wind and rain grew fiercer. Torches would only light up for a few breaths before being extinguished by the rainwater. With great difficulty, the guards of Duanshui Manor finally forced the blade thief to the edge of the sheer cliff. It was a burly man dressed in short martial attire, tightly hugging a long, sheathed blade in his arms. As the crowd closed in, he continuously backed away. Suddenly, a rock tumbled down the edge, startling a cold sweat out of him.

Unable to advance or retreat, he was driven into a dead end.

Right now, it was pitch-black, yet Ye Fusheng—this half-blind man—was mingling about like a fish in water. His eyes could see clearly in the darkness, making him look just like a cat highly skilled at lurking. His entire person was silently hidden among the branches of a tree. Even the sound of the rain hitting the leaves was more imposing than his presence. He hadn’t alarmed anyone around him in the slightest. This tree grew tall and massive. Not only could he clearly see the chaos unfolding ahead, but he could also take in all the abnormal movements on the steep cliff diagonally below him at a single glance.

When the incident occurred at the Lingbo Pavilion, he couldn’t be bothered to care. He merely hurried toward Xie Li’s courtyard under the guidance of a servant girl. As a result, the moment he entered, he found the courtyard utterly silent. That little brat was gone.

The missing Young Manor Lord currently wore a tense, childishly serious little face. Having bypassed the route of the crowd’s pursuit, he was following the direction of the mountain peak, climbing up from a section of a steep mountain wall. This section of the wall was close to the sheer cliff. The jagged, rugged rocks completely concealed his tiny figure. If it weren’t for Ye Fusheng’s bizarre, night-owl-like eyes, he truly wouldn’t have spotted this little rabbit brat who, fully knowing there were tigers on the mountain, still insisted on marching toward Tiger Mountain.

He couldn’t manage the affairs of Duanshui Manor. However, having been entrusted by another, he must be loyal to the matter. If something happened to this kid, Ye Fusheng’s lifetime of brilliant reputation would be reduced to a drawn pancake (an illusion). Fortunately, although Xie Li was young, his foundation in qinggong (lightness skill) was truly quite good. While it couldn’t be said that he walked on this steep cliff as if on flat ground, he was still barely nimble and agile enough, looking no different from a human-shaped gecko. To prevent a rash move from scaring the child into falling off, Ye Fusheng had no choice but to find a suitable place to nestle, keeping his eyes glued to the boy’s every move without blinking.

After about the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, Xie Li finally climbed to the base of the sheer cliff. However, he didn’t flip himself up. Instead, he stepped onto a large rock and used the leverage to press himself into a hidden spot.

That burly man was likely acting as a thief for the very first time in his life. He was even more anxious and embarrassed than a street pickpocket getting caught. His face, dark as charcoal, flushed completely red. Yet, unable to sprout wings and fly away at this moment, he could only tightly grip the blade scabbard, nearly tumbling off the cliff several times.

Xue Chanyi finally arrived. Pressing her lips together without saying a word, she raised her hand and lashed out with her whip. The burly man instinctively raised his hand to block, but halfway through, he remembered he was holding the Duanshui Dao. He forcibly twisted his body around, taking her whip strike solidly on his back.

Xue Chanyi’s willow brows shot up vertically. “Audacious bandit, return the blade!”

The man hissed in a breath of air. “Tell your Shifu to come out and speak!”

Xue Chanyi wasn’t old, but her temper was fiery. The long whip swirled around like a flood dragon bursting from the water, charging straight at his face once more. The man gritted his teeth, and the Duanshui Dao fiercely left its sheath. The moment the long whip tangled around the blade’s edge, the man simply followed the momentum and chopped down. A section of Eldest Miss Xue’s whip was instantly severed!

Up in the tree, Ye Fusheng shook his head, cursing inwardly: Hitting a woman, and still needing to take advantage of your weapon. Utterly shameless.

Having lost its forward momentum, the long whip rebounded, heavily striking Xue Chanyi’s hand. A bright red whip mark instantly appeared on the back of her hand, the flesh and skin splitting open. She dropped the whip and reached one hand toward the red silk sash wrapped around her waist, but someone pressed down on her shoulder.

“I, Xie, am here. What instruction do you have for me?”

Ye Fusheng, whose body had previously lacked any bones, slowly sat up straight. He looked at the man who had stepped out from the crowd. It felt as if all the blood in his body was flowing backward. A deafening roar exploded in his mind, bringing a severe, agonizing pain to his ears and eyes. His fingers unconsciously twitched several times, gouging several deep finger marks into the tree trunk.

Xie Wuyi held an oil-paper umbrella. Wearing light robes with a loose sash, he strolled casually like a schoolteacher taking a leisurely walk in a courtyard. The rain was heavy, but only the fluttering hems of his robes were slightly wet. His face was gaunt, yet his eyes were colder than a blade’s edge.

Xie Chanyi took a step back. “Shifu!”

Intimidated by his imposing aura, the burly man nearly took a step back and fell straight down. Gripping the Duanshui Dao tightly, he looked fierce on the outside but was cowardly on the inside no matter how one looked at it. Regardless of how the people in the Jianghu had mocked and fabricated stories about Xie Wuyi over the past three years, his current gaze and bearing made anyone who saw him instantly recall the Duanshui Manor Lord who had defeated all heroes at the Gathering of Heroes assembly back in the day. He was even more terrifying than he was back then.

It was as if a tiger that once roared at the soaring clouds had transformed into a starving wolf waiting to devour men.

Standing exactly seven steps away from him, Xie Wuyi repeated, “I, Xie, am here. What instruction do you have for me?”

The man took a deep breath and said stiffly, “I dare not offer instruction. I only wish to ask the Manor Lord one sentence—why did you not accept the Duofeng challenge letter?”

Hiding in the dark, Ye Fusheng had just managed to calm his emotions when he heard this sentence. He found it somewhat amusing: The emperor isn’t anxious, but the eunuch is dying of anxiety.

Xie Wuyi cast a glance at the man, his gaze landing on his hands. He asked, “You use a dao as well?”

The man puffed out his chest. “Yes! I am…”

“I, Xie, have no interest in knowing which clove of garlic you are.” Xie Wuyi sneered coldly. “Taking without notifying is the act of a thief. What, do you think that because I, Xie, did not accept the Duofeng letter, I have no right to hold the Duanshui Dao, so you had to come take the blade to participate in the battle in my stead?”

The man stiffened his neck and said, “So what if I am? Zanghun Gong is an evil, crooked sect that everyone has the right to execute! As the Duanshui Manor Lord, you don’t even consider eradicating demons and defending the righteous path, instead avoiding battle and refusing guests. Do you know how many heroic figures wring their wrists in despair over this?”

“How utterly shameless.” A voice rang out from the crowd, perfectly echoing the four words in Ye Fusheng’s heart. It was rare to meet a kindred spirit. He spared a glance toward that person and discovered it was exactly the black-clad guest he had hastily glimpsed earlier.

The Sect Master of Hundred Ghosts Sect never thought the excitement was too big. Holding an umbrella, he walked out. Dressed in black robes with narrow sleeves, his handsome features were aggressively striking. A mocking curve hooked the corner of his mouth. “This lowly one has seen little of the world. To think that such shameless behavior could be spoken of in such high-sounding, majestic terms. It has truly broadened my horizons. Many thanks to this gentleman for your personal instruction by example.”

These words were spoken without an ounce of politeness. Unfortunately, Chu Xiwei possessed the face of a pretty boy who lived off women, and he happened to crash right into a foolish, half-blind brute. He was instantly slapped in the face with a response: “What the hell are you?”

Chu Xiwei smiled. His eyes lowered, exuding a ghastly, chilling demonic aura. Anyone who saw it felt a chill run down their spine.

Ye Fusheng withdrew his gaze, thinking to himself: An Old Demon of Black Mountain wearing the skin of Nie Xiaoqian.

“Enough.” Xie Wuyi waved his hand, his gaze flashing like lightning. “What do you want?”

“The arrogance of Zanghun Gong is rampant! They have already seized four famous blades of the martial world. Not a single hero of the righteous path is not filled with indignation.” The burly man said loudly, “Manor Lord Xie, if you accept the Duofeng letter and fight for this breath of pride on behalf of the martial arts righteous path, proving that Duanshui Manor does not hold an empty, unearned reputation today, I will return the blade to you! Otherwise, I will hand the blade over to another hero. I absolutely will not allow Zanghun Gong to continue being so arrogantly unbridled!”

“Good, good, good…” Xie Wuyi said the word three times in a row. His face was entirely devoid of expression, yet everyone around him felt a chill on their necks, as if a steel blade had just brushed past.

The paper umbrella in his hand suddenly spun. Raindrops flew out in a spiral, smashing down onto the burly man’s head and face. He immediately bent backward at the waist to dodge. Unexpectedly, Xie Wuyi launched a palm strike. Holding his fingers together like a blade, he was already mere inches away from the man’s throat!

The man instantly drew his blade to block. Xie Wuyi thrust a single finger against the body of the blade, and the burly man was the one who was violently shaken and forced backward. He was already standing at the very edge of the cliff. With this strike, before he could even utter a single sound, his entire body tipped backward. Frowning, Xie Wuyi changed his palm into a claw to grab him. However, a flash of vicious ruthlessness flashed through the burly man’s eyes. He forcefully dodged this grab, plunging straight down along with the blade.

Almost at the exact same time, a tiny figure plunged down right after him. In the space where not even a hair could fit, Xie Li kicked the man’s hand away with both feet. With a hook and a flick, he caught the Duanshui Dao in his hand. But he was too young, and he had expended too much energy earlier. He failed to secure his footing with this move. If he hadn’t managed to grab onto a rock with one hand in time, he wouldn’t be hanging down a zhang below the cliff edge acting like air-dried sausage; he would have fallen straight down to feed the fishes.

All of this happened in a flash of lightning and a spark of flint. Everyone was stunned by this sudden change. Xue Chanyi turned pale with fright. “Little Li!”

Xie Wuyi’s expression drastically changed. Without a second thought, he prepared to jump down, but was yanked backward by someone—Chu Xiwei leapt down past him.

However, it was too late. The rock in Xie Li’s hand emitted a cracking sound, unable to bear the weight. The boy’s face turned ghastly pale as he plummeted straight down.

Yet even now, he still clung tightly to the Duanshui Dao, refusing to let go.

Chu Xiwei’s hand was only a fraction away from grabbing him. As a result, he only managed to tear off a corner of the boy’s robes. Before he even had time to frown, a cyan-colored shadow flashed before his eyes, so fast that he couldn’t even see clearly what it was.

Note: 

“Chu He Han Jie” (楚河漢界) refers to the Chu River and Han Border, a historic dividing line derived from the Chu-Han Contention between Xiang Yu and Liu Bang. It is used metaphorically to describe a clear, uncrossable boundary between two opposing sides.

“Nie Xiaoqian” (聶小倩) and the “Old Demon of Black Mountain” (黑山老妖) are references to characters from Pu Songling’s Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio (聊齋志異). Nie Xiaoqian is a beautiful, tragic female ghost, while the Old Demon of Black Mountain is a terrifying, powerful demonic lord to whom she was forced to be betrothed. Ye Fusheng is comparing Chu Xiwei’s stunning, delicate beauty mixed with his terrifying, murderous aura to a horrific demon lord wearing the skin of a beautiful ghost.