Chapter 45: Sunshine
Two travel-worn guests arrived at the Supervisory Office. Both were young men around twenty years old, elegant and handsome as jade trees or sturdy pines, possessing the finest qualities. When the gatekeeper heard they were visiting Mr. Cui, he didn’t even ask for their identities but hurriedly led them into the official residence, guiding them to the detached courtyard where Mr. Cui was staying. After knocking on the door for them, the gatekeeper respectfully took his leave.
The person who opened the door was precisely that gentleman representing the Confucian school who had come to demand the repelling object. He had won the reputation of "Master of the Writing Brush" in his youth and had long been regarded as the undisputed candidate for the next master of Guanhu Academy. Seeing the two young men, he showed both surprise and delight. Gazing at one of them who was leaning against the doorframe, he asked with a smile, "Ba Bridge, who is this friend by your side?"
The young man addressed as Ba Bridge grinned mischievously and said, "This guy? He’s from the Chen clan of Longwei Commandery in the Great Yong Dynasty. Brother Cui, just call him Song Feng. This fellow has no taste for beautiful women or fine wine; his only obsession is stone inkstones. Hearing that there are some old pits by the local stream, he wanted to try his luck. He also has a distant relative who accompanied us on this trip. If not for her, Song Feng and I wouldn’t have been delayed until now to enter the town—we should have arrived two days ago. She doesn’t like dealing with people, so she went off to explore the town on her own. Ah, what a pity, what a pity! On the way here, I heard that a prince of the Sui Dynasty had obtained a tremendous opportunity, catching a golden dragon carp, and had great hopes of turning into a river-dragon. That made me so envious my eyes turned red. Brother Cui, take a look—full of bloodshot veins, right?"
The young man stuck his head toward the Confucian gentleman, who laughed and pushed his head away with a finger, reminding him, "Liu Ba Bridge, since you’ve already delayed your journey, you’d better get on with your business. Why waste time here with me? When did the Wind Thunder Garden become so sluggish in its ways?"
That young man from the Chen clan of Longwei Commandery wore an apologetic expression and said with a bitter smile, "We had an unexpected conflict on the way. Brother Ba Bridge injured the acupoints of his internal organs that serve as the sword-nurturing chamber, and had to risk moving his life-bound sword to the Bright Hall acupoint. If not for my insufficient cultivation making me a burden, Brother Ba Bridge would never have been hurt."
Liu Ba Bridge laughed heartily and said, "Just a few sneaky wild cultivators, relying on some crooked tricks to barely wound me. They’re already dead by my sword, not worth mentioning! If not for being in a hurry, I would have built a few cenotaphs for them, erected tombstones, and inscribed that on such-and-such year, month, and day, they died under Liu Ba Bridge’s sword. In the future, when I become the foremost swordsman, who knows, it might even become a scenic spot, right?"
The Confucian gentleman had known this genius swordsman of Wind Thunder Garden for a long time and was well aware of his naturally erratic personality. He led the two into the courtyard.
Liu Ba Bridge suddenly lowered his voice, "Brother Cui, give me the inside scoop: Is this world about to collapse? Is that Master Qi, exiled here from the Cliff Academy, really determined to defy heaven and act against fate?"
The scholar surnamed Cui pretended not to hear.
Liu Ba Bridge chuckled, pointing at Mr. Cui, "I already understand."
That Confucian gentleman seemed to say casually, "Song Feng, I previously visited Master Qi at the school. When discussing self-cultivation, Master Qi sighed, saying, ‘Time waits for no one.’"
Self-cultivation, regulating the family, governing the state, and pacifying the world—this sage seed from the Cui clan only spoke of self-cultivation and then stopped.
Chen Song Feng initially thought it was just polite small talk between scholars. But when he saw the look in the other’s eyes, a flash of insight struck him. Chen Song Feng immediately understood and cupped his hands, "Mr. Cui, I’ll go find my distant cousin. When I return, I’ll seek your advice on strategies for governing the state."
In his words, Chen Song Feng intentionally skipped the step of "regulating the family" and only mentioned governing the state.
Chen Song Feng hurried away.
The scholar surnamed Cui sighed and sat down with Liu Ba Bridge at the stone table in the courtyard.
Liu Ba Bridge crossed his legs and said bluntly, "This Chen Song Feng is clever, quick to understand. But his eating habits are a bit too unsightly. At least he could have sat down and chatted with you for a while before leaving. Is he so eager to seek the ancestral locust leaves? I don’t think it’s necessary. Nowadays, in our East Bottle Gourd Continent, besides the Chen clan of Longwei Commandery, how many notable surname clans are still respectable? Those locust leaves—wouldn’t they naturally fall into Chen Song Feng’s pocket? Or would they fall on the heads of commoners born and raised in this town?"
Of the Chen clan in East Bottle Gourd Continent, the Longwei Commandery Chen were the most honored. Though they had been silent for a long time, a lean camel is still bigger than a horse. Despite their diminished influence, they were an ancient noble clan whose ancestors had produced a string of heroes and powerhouses. So even someone like Liu Ba Bridge, from a flourishing sect like Wind Thunder Garden, dared not underestimate them. In fact, even a man like Liu Ba Bridge was willing to associate with them, treating them as half-friends.
The scholar asked curiously, "Did you come here to seek Master Ruan and ask him to forge a sword for you?"
Liu Ba Bridge hesitated, speaking vaguely.
The general idea was that he was doing a favor for the sect. If he succeeded, Wind Thunder Garden would intercede with Master Ruan on his behalf to forge a sword. As for what that favor was, Liu Ba Bridge seemed reluctant to speak of it.
The scholar said again, "Do you know that someone from Zhengyang Mountain has also arrived? And it’s a master-servant pair."
Liu Ba Bridge was stunned, "I hadn’t heard at all! Who from Zhengyang Mountain came?"
Then this young swordsman, known for his arrogance in Wind Thunder Garden, closed his eyes, put his hands together, and muttered a prayer: "Please, don’t let it be the breathtakingly beautiful Fairy Su. I beg that it’s not Fairy Su herself coming. Otherwise, should I draw my sword or not? If Fairy Su casts a single glance at me, I’ll go weak. How could I bear to send out my flying sword…"
The scholar felt helpless, "Don’t worry. It’s not your beloved Fairy Su. It’s the mountain-guarding White Ape, escorting the precious granddaughter of Tao Kui, the Pure Yang Sword Ancestor of Zhengyang Mountain."
"Old Cui, you’re really my lucky star! As long as it’s not Fairy Su, everything is fine!" Liu Ba Bridge immediately bounced back to life, laughing heartily, "Who’s afraid of that? Am I afraid of an old beast?! There’s nobody in Wind Thunder Garden who fears Zhengyang Mountain!"
The scholar hesitated, "Wind Thunder Garden and Zhengyang Mountain—both share the same roots as orthodox sword traditions. Why can’t you untie this deadly knot?"
Liu Ba Bridge put away his joking expression and said solemnly, "Cui Minghuang, never say a word of this to anyone if you ever come to Wind Thunder Garden."
The scholar let out a long sigh.
Wind Thunder Garden and Zhengyang Mountain.
From their sword-immortal founders to their newest disciples, they often didn’t even need a single harsh word—whenever they met, they would simply draw their swords and fight.
The Office gatekeeper and the aged steward suddenly arrived frantically outside the courtyard gate. Cui Minghuang and Liu Ba Bridge both stood up.
The steward entered the courtyard, bowed, and said, "Mr. Cui, news just arrived: Zhengyang Mountain has made a move against a youth named Liu Xianyang."
Liu Ba Bridge was instantly enraged, "Which Liu Xianyang?!"
The steward held considerable respect for Mr. Cui, but as for this unknown young gentleman, the old man was not intimidated. He replied calmly, "In reply to this young master, there is only one person named Liu Xianyang in our town."
Liu Ba Bridge’s face changed dramatically, and he sneered, "What a fine Zhengyang Mountain! Bullying people too much!"
Cui Minghuang remained composed and asked, "Has Master Qi intervened?"
The steward shook his head, "Not yet. I heard that the youth was taken to Master Ruan’s sword shop. It’s estimated that even if he isn’t dead, he only has one breath left. Someone saw with their own eyes that the youth’s chest was smashed through by a fist. How could he survive?"
Cui Minghuang smiled, "Thank you, elder, for informing us of this matter."
The aged steward quickly waved his hand, "You’re too kind, too kind. It’s my duty. I’ve troubled Mr. Cui."
After the steward and the gatekeeper left together, Cui Minghuang saw Liu Ba Bridge plop back onto the stone stool. He asked in confusion, "Were you perhaps coming here for that very youth?"
Liu Ba Bridge’s expression was grim and uncertain, "Half, I suppose. This is going to get very troublesome. A huge trouble."
Cui Minghuang asked, "It’s not just about the conflict between Wind Thunder Garden and Zhengyang Mountain?"
Liu Ba Bridge nodded, "Far more than that."
The scholar sat with his hands in his sleeves and said softly, "The tree desires stillness, but the wind never ceases. It seems I should set out to retrieve that square jade tablet. Even if Master Qi mistakes it for our Guanhu Academy adding insult to injury, there’s no helping it."
Cui Minghuang stood up, "I’ll go to the school. I’ll be back shortly."
After leaving the official residence on Fortune Street, he passed by the Twelve-Foot Archway Tower, stopped, and looked up at the plaque inscribed with the four characters "Dare Not Shirk Responsibility."
In the sunlight, the scholar raised his hand to shield his forehead.
After a moment of hesitation, he actually turned back and returned to the office.
––––––
On Fortune Street, the white-haired, burly old man led a little girl whose face was as delicate as a porcelain doll. Instead of entering the Lu family mansion, they went to the Song residence. Someone was already waiting at the door to welcome them inside. In the main hall, bearing the plaque "Sweet Dew Hall," a dignified old man stood up and came to the door to greet them, cupping his hands, "Li Hong pays respects to Senior Ape."
The Mountain-Moving White Ape of Zhengyang Mountain casually nodded to the head of the Li family, released the little girl’s hand, and said softly, lowering his head, "Miss, I’ll wait for you at the mountaintop."
The little girl sat on the threshold of the main hall, pouting silently.
The Li family head said softly, "Senior, rest assured. Our Li family will safely escort Miss Tao out of the town."
The old ape grunted, "This time, I trouble you to take care of the young lady. Consider it a favor owed by Zhengyang Mountain. Let me speak a few words with her."
The old man immediately left the main hall and ordered the entire clan not to approach within a hundred paces of Sweet Dew Hall.
The old man also sat on the threshold and thought for a moment. "Miss, there are some things I shouldn’t have told you, but since things have come to this, there’s no point hiding them anymore. I’ll tell you everything at once. This trip to the town is most likely a carefully laid trap by someone. That woman from the Xu family of Pure Wind City can’t escape, but she may not be the most important piece. The cunning part of this pit is that even if this old servant sensed it, I couldn’t avoid jumping in. Miss may not know that the master of that sword scripture was once a treacherous disciple who betrayed Zhengyang Mountain, and he wrote it himself. According to your grandfather, the most valuable thing about this sword scripture is that although its author ultimately only touched the threshold of sword immortality in his sword path, the content of the scripture points directly to the Great Way. Miss, think about it—the Xie family patriarch, who is on good terms with our Zhengyang Mountain, has such keen insight, yet he still gave this scripture a rating of ‘extremely high.’”
The old man’s tone turned cold, "And this sword talent, who betrayed his master and extinguished his ancestors, when he reached the end of his rope, sought refuge with our sworn enemy, Wind Thunder Garden. Wind Thunder Garden did indeed protect him for most of his life. He acted like a coward for most of his days. Later, to verify his sword scripture, he quietly left Wind Thunder Garden and sought out several grand sword immortals who had attained the Way, such as the Xie family patriarch. Even though they despised his character, they all praised the content of the sword scripture. The Xie family patriarch once privately said that the sword scripture merges the sword spirit of both Zhengyang Mountain and Wind Thunder Garden. If someone from either side were to cultivate it successfully, then the endless struggle between their arts and ways would finally come to an end."
The old man said heavily, "Therefore, if this old servant can obtain this sword scripture and give it to you, Miss, to cultivate, that would be the best outcome. Even if we fall short, if someone like the Old Dragon City’s Cloudlit Gorge or those youths get the opportunity, Zhengyang Mountain could tolerate that. But one thing we absolutely cannot compromise on is letting those mongrels from Wind Thunder Garden get their hands on the sword scripture!"
The old man’s face was ferocious, "Miss, don’t forget—in the deepest part of Wind Thunder Garden, above that sword-testing arena, stands our Zhengyang Mountain’s ancestor, who is also the forebear of your branch. When Zhengyang Mountain was at its weakest, she bravely challenged the Wind Thunder Garden’s master of that generation. After she was defeated in a fair battle and died, not only did Wind Thunder Garden fail to send her body back to Zhengyang Mountain for a proper burial, they left her corpse to rot in the sun. Moreover, a sword from a Wind Thunder Garden swordsman was stuck in her skull, deliberately left there for people to gawk at and mock!"
"Three hundred years—three whole centuries! Even though Zhengyang Mountain is recognized for having an unbroken line of talents, we have never been able to pull out even a single sword from Wind Thunder Garden! Generation after generation of Zhengyang Mountain sword cultivators have borne this immense shame. Until Zhengyang Mountain destroys Wind Thunder Garden, we will remain the laughingstock of the entire East Bottle Gourd Continent."
"Why does our Zhengyang Mountain, when each of our ancestors attains the status of sword immortal, never hold a celebration to announce it to the world?!"
The little girl had long known these old stories by heart, had heard them so often her ears had calluses.
But previously, when her elders and relatives spoke of it, they had tried to use a light and casual tone to recount this grudge, far from the full-throated fury and direct expression of heart that the Mountain-Moving Ape now displayed.
The little girl asked in her childish voice, "White Ape Grandpa, why didn’t you just kill that stubborn youth with one punch? Although his meridians are now shattered, his qi is broken and chaotic, and the sword scripture must have been naturally pulverized, even gods couldn’t restore it. But what if, against all odds, someone saves him, and against all odds, someone obtains the sword scripture? What will our Zhengyang Mountain do then?"
The transmission method of that sword scripture was extremely special and mysterious, impossible to pass on verbally. It was as if the Liu clan’s ancestor had inscribed words on a wall—or perhaps that former Zhengyang Mountain traitor had left a shifting sword intent within the bodies of his descendants, passed down through generations, always waiting for a descendant of outstanding talent to appear who could harness that sword intent containing the scripture’s content.
So if the youth died, those who wanted to buy his porcelain and Wind Thunder Garden would be completely out of luck. That sword scripture, which had never truly manifested, would vanish into thin air.
The old man laughed heartily, "Had this old servant killed the youth on the spot, I would have been instantly expelled from this small world. Then what would become of you, Miss? Would I leave you to face Wind Thunder Garden alone? Moreover, all spells are forbidden here. Master Ruan can forge swords and kill people, but his skill at healing is truly mediocre. Besides that, would Qi Jingchun step in? Absolutely not. He’s already a clay Buddha crossing the river—barely able to save himself. And if he truly angered this old servant, I might as well reveal my true form. Let’s see if this world can support my thousand-zhang true body!"
The old man stood up, radiating an imposing aura, "Miss, there’s no need to worry about the corridor bridge youth. Allow this old servant to kill the Wind Thunder Garden people, then I’ll wait for you at that mountaintop gate. If Qi Jingchun knows what’s good for him, he’ll sit back and watch. If he dares to interfere, this old servant dares to smash him to pieces. Even if Master Ruan makes a move, I’ll fight him to the bitter end, so this trip won’t be in vain!"
The little girl thought for a moment, then said with a bright smile, "White Ape Grandpa, go ahead. Don’t worry about me."
The old man laughed casually, "Miss, you don’t need to worry about this old servant either."
––––––
In a room of the streamside sword shop, a heavy stench of blood permeated the air. Basins of bloody water were carried out, and basins of clean water were brought in.
An old man, the proprietor of the Yang Family Apothecary, had been grabbed and brought here like a chick by the blue-clad girl. He sat on a small stool by the window, washing the blood off his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead. After looking up, he shook his head helplessly, "Master Ruan, the youth’s injuries are truly too severe. If this were outside the town..."
Master Ruan, with his arms crossed, said curtly, "Save the nonsense."
The old man could only smile bitterly.
He had indeed stated the obvious. If they were outside the town, his help wouldn’t have been needed at all.
The blue-clad girl, Ruan Xiu, stared fixedly at the locust leaf placed on the sick youth’s forehead. It had already lost its luster—still green, but devoid of any verdant vitality. She suddenly turned her head and asked angrily, "Didn’t we agree that if Chen Ping’an gave up his locust leaf, Liu Xianyang would have a fifty percent chance to survive?"
The old apothecary sighed, "If the owner of the locust leaf had suffered this severe injury himself and then received the ancestral blessing from the leaf, the chance of survival would indeed be five out of ten. But using it to bestow the blessing on another person is a different matter."
Ruan Xiu shouted, "Old Yang! Then why did you talk nonsense earlier, saying there was a fifty percent hope? Why didn’t you say so sooner!"
The old man’s face crumpled, looking extremely aggrieved, "If this old man hadn’t said that at the time, I’m afraid the youth wouldn’t have died, but I would have been beaten to death by you on the spot."
Ruan Xiu’s face turned pale with anger, and she was about to curse.
The man said heavily, "Xiu Xiu, do not be disrespectful to Proprietor Yang."
Ruan Xiu gritted her teeth and said nothing.
The man was silent for a moment, then glanced at the old apothecary, who was standing dumbfounded and motionless. Suddenly, like a spring thunderclap, he began to roar, "Proprietor Yang! You’re standing there like a piece of wood! Trying to die?!"
Facing such a father and daughter, the old man really felt like crying but had no tears. The key point was that he dared not show any dissatisfaction, so he could only steel himself to continue treating a dead horse as if it were alive.
From start to finish, the straw-sandal youth neither shouted nor wailed loudly. He just repeatedly carried water out and in, basin after basin of bloody water replaced by clean water.
After another quarter of an hour, the apothecary proprietor was also extremely agitated. Looking down at the basin of clean water, he suddenly slapped the water hard, splashing droplets everywhere, then looked up at Master Ruan with immense grief, "Master Ruan! It would be better if you just stabbed me to death with your sword! I’m just a medicine seller, not a god-doctor who can bring the dead back to life!"
The iron-forging man slowly furrowed his brows.
The old man immediately shrunk his neck.
The youth finally spoke, "Proprietor Yang, try again."
After the old man turned his head to look at the youth, the youth’s eyes were clear and pure. He slightly emphasized his tone: "Try again!"
The old man let out a turbid breath, his heart aching, "Child, this old man is truly powerless."
The youth forced a faint smile, "Proprietor Yang, I beg you."
The old man was full of exhaustion but still shook his head.
The last spark of hope in the straw-sandal youth’s eyes vanished.
He crouched to set down the washbasin, then sat beside the bed, holding the tall youth’s hand, which had already turned cold. He forced a smile that was uglier than tears and said softly, "I will come back."
The youth stood up and left the room. When he reached the threshold, he suddenly turned around and bowed deeply to the Ruan family father and daughter and the old proprietor, thanking all three who had been working until now.
The youth stepped over the threshold.
The sunlight was a bit dazzling. After a brief pause, he strode forward.
If Heaven won’t grant justice, that’s fine. I’ll go get it myself—as much as I can.