Chapter 293: The Eagle Does Not Fly
The child with the sallow complexion and white face, dressed in plain mourning clothes, had his head swivel a full circle before he continued following the adults deeper into the alley, his figure disappearing into the depths of the narrow lane.
Chen Ping'an remained calm, not bothering to look further at that eerie scene. He glanced at the demon-suppressing talisman pasted on the gate—just ordinary yellow paper, not too costly to use. Despite the heavy rain earlier that had soaked the door, the talisman he had casually stuck on the door panel held firm.
On the door were the most common pair of painted martial door gods found in the market and alleys. Whether they were martial saints from a temple on Tongye Continent that enjoyed incense offerings, or meritorious generals from the history of the Chenxiang Kingdom, no one knew.
More than half the year had already passed. The painted door gods, weathered by wind, sun, and rain, had faded badly, looking somewhat dull and lifeless, carrying a hint of decay and decline.
After Chen Ping'an had broken through to the Fourth Martial Realm, his blood and qi had become robust, his soul and spirit tough. His way of viewing heaven and earth had accordingly changed. Similar to how Qi refiners observe qi, he could now detect traces of spiritual energy flowing. Especially after donning the Golden Liquor robe, by matching its absorption level of spiritual energy with his own observations, he had gained considerable insights.
He looked up at the two door gods, who appeared in bright armor and imposing attire, but in truth, their divine radiance had long since vanished into the river of time, gradually devoured by the yin and baleful aura of this strange alley.
Was this not a case of heroic spirit withering?
Chen Ping'an sighed, stood on tiptoe, and used his finger to smooth out a tiny crease on the talisman. This single pagoda demon-suppressing talisman, at market price, could buy how many pairs of painted door gods? Thinking about that, Chen Ping'an felt a bit annoyed. He understood very well the general intent of those sneaky, sinister beings. This was an intimidation tactic, probably meant to make him and Lu Tai, two outsiders with abundant yang qi, smart enough to leave this place early, letting both sides keep to their own.
Chen Ping'an walked into the courtyard, closed the door, and barred it. Since Lu Tai was already awake, he was completely without sleepiness. Like Chen Ping'an, he had moved a chair to sit by the door. Without waiting for Chen Ping'an to speak, Lu Tai took the initiative to explain: "Some shallowly cultivated yin creatures, at most they scare people. The worst they can do is harm common folk with inherently weak yang qi. Either they startle them while walking at night, stealing a bit of their soul during the moment of shock; or, in doorways whose door gods have failed due to ancestors lacking virtue, they wait for folks to have nightmares and do the deed of ghost pressing the bed. Hmm, there are also some idiots who don't know the rules and piss at the intersections of ghost paths where yin creatures roam, bringing trouble upon themselves."
Lu Tai took out his bamboo fan, rustling it open. The chill in the courtyard vanished instantly, replaced by a warm and pleasant feel. In the rain, wisps of gray smoke rose faintly and then dissipated.
Lu Tai laughed, "These ghosts don't have much experience, just like the living people of Flying Eagle Fort. They can't see through the depth of us two at all. It's a pity about that demon-suppressing talisman. If it were drawn by a Celestial Master Zhang or a high-ranking Daoist master from the Lingbao Sect, with that material you used…"
Lu Tai paused, deliberately trying to rub salt in Chen Ping'an's wounds, "Just one talisman pasted at the main gate of Flying Eagle Fort could protect these several hundred people for at least three to five years from harassment by yin creatures. Unlike you amateurs, relying solely on a breath of pure true qi spat onto the talisman, you're doomed to be unable to connect with heaven and earth's spiritual energy. That talisman is like water without a source—how many days will it shine?"
Chen Ping'an sat in the chair opposite him. "Why didn't you show yourself earlier?"
Lu Tai smiled slightly. "What would I show myself for? To chat with them, ask about local customs? Ask how they arranged the order of their appearances to scare you, how they turned the rain into blood? I would only tell them earnestly that their methods of scaring people aren't up to par. I might even be unable to resist teaching them a few tricks…"
Lu Tai was getting more and more outrageous. Chen Ping'an pointed his wine gourd at the door, indicating that Lu Tai could go out and cozy up to them.
Lu Tai sat unmoving, like a mountain, then snapped the folding fan shut. "Since I was a kid, I loved dealing with the demonic spirits and goblins raised in my clan. You could even say I lived with them day and night. I've long been used to it. If it weren't for you, Chen Ping'an, finding them annoying, having them floating around outside would only let me sleep more soundly and sweetly."
Chen Ping'an asked doubtfully, "Don't you disciples of the School of Yin-Yang have taboos about this?"
Lu Tai looked up at the rain curtain and said softly, "If you don't approach evil, you cannot know good."
Chen Ping'an asked curiously, "Is there a real fierce ghost hidden in Flying Eagle Fort?"
Lu Tai nodded. "Otherwise, why did I say 'a perfect place to frame someone' before the fight earlier?"
Chen Ping'an nodded, remembering this clearly.
Lu Tai lazily rested his hands on the armrests of the chair, his wide sleeves hanging down. "If we both kicked the bucket and became star-crossed lovers in the deep mountains over there, do you think anyone would believe we were framed by those martial ruffians of Flying Eagle Fort? Naturally, they'd blame that nest of yin creatures and ghosts in here."
Chen Ping'an's heart stirred. He abruptly stood up and walked toward the gate.
From the alley outside the yard came a commotion. The demon-suppressing talisman on the gate burst with golden light, which flashed and vanished.
Lu Tai turned his head and laughed, "No need to go. Those ghosts are unwilling to give up; they have to suffer some loss to learn their lesson. Now that they've tasted it, they'll probably keep their distance from us for a while. I'll have a hard time hearing those moving celestial sounds and getting a good sleep from now on."
Chen Ping'an opened the courtyard gate, stepped over the threshold, and looked up at the pagoda demon-suppressing talisman. Apart from a faint, shallow stain, the talisman showed no signs of the talisman core shattering or the spiritual light flickering. The ghost that had come to test the talisman was indeed, as Lu Tai said, of no great cultivation.
Chen Ping'an returned to the courtyard, determined that if they came to provoke again, he wouldn't hesitate to be a truly unpleasant neighbor.
Lu Tai clasped his hands behind his head. "This Tongye Continent is a very conservative place. They don't like outsiders from other continents. If it were here, Xie Shi, the Celestial Lord from Juluzhou, would have been beaten half to death long ago. Unlike your Vase Continent, where you can still sit down politely for tea, reason things out, and haggle."
Chen Ping'an scraped the mud off his boot soles on the steps, thought for a moment, and said slowly, "Vase Continent is too close to Juluzhou. Great Li's relationship with Xie Shi is also very mysterious. They have connections; it's not entirely a matter of continental customs and folkways. What do you think, Lu Tai?"
Lu Tai clicked his tongue admiringly. "Not bad, not bad, Chen Ping'an. You're increasingly able to see problems from a high vantage point. Truly worthy of having traveled to Inverted Mountain and the Sword Qi Great Wall."
Chen Ping'an was about to move his chair back into the house when Lu Tai suddenly said, "Chen Ping'an, if you count Ma Wanfa, it wouldn't actually be too hard for them to deal with one and a half Golden Core cultivators. For us two to win that fight was actually not easy."
Chen Ping'an stopped beside the chair and asked, "If we two were to face a Golden Core Qi refiner, would we have a chance of winning?"
"Yes, but not a great chance."
Lu Tai laughed. "Almost every Golden Core cultivator is someone with a tough temperament, and their spell techniques and divine abilities are endless. So we'd either have to fight him to the death, or else he'd slowly wear us down to death. You should know, right? The Qi refiner's ninth realm, the Golden Core realm, and the pure martial artist's seventh realm, together with the realms before them, are said to be 'turning heaven and earth upside down.'"
Chen Ping'an sat back in the chair and shook his head. "I'm actually not too clear about it. How about you explain it to me?"
Lu Tai's eyes lit up. "If I explain this to you, can I give you a hundred fewer snowflake coins during the next formal sharing of the spoils?"
Chen Ping'an was amused and exasperated. "Do you even care about a hundred snowflake coins?"
Lu Tai laughed heartily. "Of course I don't care about snowflake coins. I just like the feeling of taking advantage."
Chen Ping'an extended a hand, signaling that Lu Tai could earn his keep.
Lu Tai was in a great mood. He kicked off his boots, sat cross-legged on the chair, and smiled. "The pure martial artist's leap from seventh realm to eighth is called 'overturning the earth.' Aside from the seventh realm being the Wind Riding Realm, which allows martial artists to travel on the wind like immortals, another aspect is that the soul and po solidify into one. The world that unfolds before your eyes becomes a completely different scene."
"As for a Qi refiner entering the Golden Core realm, 'Only those who form a Golden Core are our kind'—this golden rule has been preached to death. The true mystery lies in that before forming the Golden Core, a cultivator faces great bottlenecks in using spells and techniques. How many inner residences they open roughly determines the total amount of spiritual energy they can store. In battle, it's like you, Chen Ping'an, needing to spend money—you have to be frugal."
"But after forming the Golden Core, a cultivator's storage of spiritual energy is no longer limited to a few qi residences. It's like a wealthy man building an ice cellar—he can still eat ice in the sweltering heat. More importantly, he can temporarily borrow spiritual energy from heaven and earth. The Longevity Bridge—we've talked about it so much, but what is it? Besides stepping onto the path of cultivation, it's also to be able to connect with heaven and earth. Oneself is a small cave heaven; heaven and earth are a great blessed land."
Chen Ping'an listened attentively and earnestly.
Lu Tai laughed and asked, "So it's not strange that we two managed to kill Ma Wanfa and his crew but might not beat a Golden Core cultivator?"
Chen Ping'an nodded. "So that's how it is."
Lu Tai looked as if he'd seen a ghost, puzzled. "The people who taught you fist techniques, swordsmanship, and talismans—none of them told you this?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head. "They didn't teach this. The old man who taught me fist techniques only taught me…"
Chen Ping'an stood up and gently punched toward the rain curtain. "To casually throw a punch that drives back the rain curtain ten zhang or a hundred zhang."
Chen Ping'an withdrew his fist, gently twisting his wrist as if drawing a talisman with a brush. "To let the true meaning of the talisman flow from the brush tip—'a bit of righteous qi, a fast wind for a thousand li.'"
Then Chen Ping'an made a gesture of holding a longsword and gently swung it forward. "The great universe is full of wonders. I only have one sword."
Lu Tai stared blankly at the white-robed youth under the eaves, who seemed different from usual.
Lu Tai curled up in his chair, hands tucked into his sleeves, silent for a long time.
Chen Ping'an grinned, grabbed his chair, and headed back inside. "You get some sleep too."
Lu Tai asked seriously, "Chen Ping'an, if you had to choose only one among those three, which would you pick?"
Chen Ping'an was stunned. He had never thought about this question. After pondering for a moment, he answered, "When I first practiced fist techniques, it was to extend my lifespan—that was my foundation. I'll keep practicing fists. If I live long enough, I hope to throw ten million punches, and during that time, I definitely need to reach the seventh Martial Realm. As for drawing talismans, it's just a means to save my life. I won't delve too deeply; I'll let it take its natural course. What I really want to go far in is…"
Chen Ping'an extended his thumb, pointing at the sword on his back. "Is learning the sword."
His expression was calm, his gaze resolute. "I want to become a sword immortal, a great sword immortal!"
Lu Tai tilted his head. "What for?"
Chen Ping'an grinned without speaking, then picked up his chair and trotted back into the house to close the door and sleep.
Lu Tai rolled his eyes. Without sleepiness, he hummed a folk tune out of boredom, finally standing up and performing a slow dance on the chair, his wide sleeves flowing like water. Then he sat back in the chair, yawned, waved his fan, or counted on his fingers to calculate fortunes. He even rested his head on the chair arm, rolled his eyes, and stuck out his tongue, pretending to be a hanged ghost…
He endured like this until dawn.
Chen Ping'an got up on time, first went to open the door and retrieve the demon-suppressing talisman, then paced back and forth under the eaves practicing his stake walking and fist techniques.
Lu Tai glanced at Chen Ping'an's boots. "I'll find you a pair of immortal boots later. Then you won't have to worry about rainy or snowy weather. For pricier ones, they can even be impervious to water and fire."
Chen Ping'an said irritably, "What use would that be? Fighting someone and having to worry about my boots tearing—such a bother. It just adds another worry."
Lu Tai sighed. "You just don't have the luck to enjoy comfort."
Chen Ping'an asked, "Did anything strange happen later last night?"
Lu Tai nodded. "As a matter of fact, yes. It seems someone from Flying Eagle Fort encountered a ghost, not too far from here. Both sides fought fiercely. It was quite bloody, but no one died."
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment. "Then let's move around during the day and see if we can uncover the truth. Once we have an idea, we'll decide whether to intervene."
Lu Tai didn't care either way.
Geomancy, feng shui, dragon vein location, the arts of qi men dun jia, medicine, divination, astrology—he was quite proficient in all of them. What could he do? The patriarch had bestowed a gift. Even if he didn't study hard and was always looking for ways to slack off, he still left his peers far behind. It troubled him deeply.
---
Lu Tai's few words lightly summarized a bloody fight.
But for those involved, it was far from easy.
In the rain curtain last night, a young man in black with a saber at his waist and a traveling Daoist walked together through the night. Under their bamboo hats, one had the expression of someone walking to his death, the other was full of worry.
After the torrential rain turned into a gentle drizzle, they entered an alley and arrived before a long-abandoned, dilapidated house.
The young Daoist in the straw raincoat was pale. "The baleful aura tonight is especially heavy!"
The other man, holding a saber, had dark skin. Lowering his voice, he ground his teeth. "If we wait any longer, who knows how many more will die unjustly? We can't delay!"
This alley had very few residents—only three or four scattered households, mostly elderly loners who rarely communicated with the outside. In their youth, the martial arts disciples of Flying Eagle Fort would test their courage by seeing who dared to walk alone through this narrow, dark alley late at night.
Legend had it that this alley had once witnessed a bloody battle. Before Flying Eagle Fort faded from the martial world, shortly after the old fort master's death, a group of sworn enemies sneaked into the fort. Every one of them was stained with blood—either demonic cult masters or evil path grandmasters, all martial world tyrants who had been injured or crippled by the old fort master in his day.
They carelessly leaked word and were caught by the well-prepared Flying Eagle Fort like turtles in a jar. Bottled up in this alley, the slaughter saw blood flow everywhere, heads rolling. There were heads of villains and heads of Flying Eagle Fort's older generation alike. Severed limbs and dismembered bodies—hardly a single intact corpse. It was said that afterward, every one of Flying Eagle Fort's corpse collectors vomited bile.
Flying Eagle Fort was the kind of martial sect that had once been wealthy but had fallen on hard times. For a hundred glorious years, even though the Huan clan had now been silent for decades, their reputation was still considerable. Especially the late Old Master Huan, who had been highly virtuous and respected, a famous martial hero known throughout the realm.
Unfortunately, the current fort master, Huan Yang, had mediocre martial arts skill and couldn't uphold Flying Eagle Fort's prestige. And Huan Chang was still young, leading to the bleak situation of a generation gap.
But just flipping through old records, from Old Master Huan back two generations, Flying Eagle Fort had far too many achievements to mention.
So the entire Flying Eagle Fort, all four hundred or so people, were very proud.
Living in a remote corner, Flying Eagle Fort couldn't be considered frogs at the bottom of a well.
Almost everyone had grown up listening to Flying Eagle Fort's legendary tales: Old Master Huan's status as one of the Four Grandmasters of Chenxiang Kingdom; the three of his close friends from his youth who had traveled the martial world and were now among the current ten great experts; and the Old Madam, rumored to be the fugitive princess of a fallen neighboring dynasty, saved by Old Master Huan in her wanderings. They fell in love at first sight, endured countless hardships and trials, but finally came together—a tale celebrated in the martial world.
The young fort master, Huan Chang, had shown outstanding martial talent since childhood, possessing incredible innate strength. Over a decade, he had sought advice from famous heroes and sparred with young talents already renowned in the martial world, with commendable results. The fort master's daughter, Huan Shu, was reportedly betrothed in a childhood engagement to the eldest legitimate son of one of the ten great experts of Chenxiang Kingdom, awaiting only his coming to marry her.
And the leader of Flying Eagle Fort's younger generation was not Huan Chang, but an outsider named Tao Xieyang. He was Fort Master Huan Yang's direct disciple and had studied Confucian classics and advanced martial arts since childhood under the great steward, Old Master He. In terms of popularity, he surpassed even Huan Chang.
Tao Xieyang was warm-hearted and chivalrous, well-regarded by everyone in Flying Eagle Fort. He was cheerful, as if not even the sky falling could frighten him.
The group of people who had entered the fort in the mountains last time were led by a famous martial hero. Among them was a beautiful woman with the reputation of a fairy maiden, who had a very good relationship with Tao Xieyang. They were often seen walking together inside and outside Flying Eagle Fort, drinking the cheapest liquor from street stalls, and she would still smile like a flower.
In recent years, Tao Xieyang had started helping the fort master and the steward He Ya manage Flying Eagle Fort's affairs, learning many inside secrets. His days were not easy.
He had to entertain guests from all directions without any leaks, ensure that the incense offerings left by Flying Eagle Fort's ancestors didn't silently extinguish, secretly maintain old bonds, run errands to the capital, to famous righteous sects in the mountains, to powerful factions in big cities, deliver silver to noble mansions, and curry favor with local powers in the prefectural city. All this required Tao Xieyang, an outsider, to handle. Thus his knowledge and experience of the martial world were outstanding.
The saber-wielder who came to this alley tonight was none other than Tao Xieyang.
The young Daoist accompanying him was a close friend he had made in the martial world, with whom he had hit it off immediately. Tao Xieyang knew some of the young Daoist's secrets: he could see those yin, filthy things and knew some supression methods unheard of in the martial world. After receiving Tao Xieyang's secret letter asking for help, the Daoist came to Flying Eagle Fort without a second word. Carefully investigating, his mood grew heavier. As Tao Xieyang's letter had said, Flying Eagle Fort was indeed haunted by ghosts, and ghosts with deep cultivation, who had directly ruined the fort's fundamental feng shui.
The young Daoist knew his own limitations. He was no true mountain cultivator. He had only studied Daoist methods for five years under a master who loved to wander, learning only some superficial skills in observing qi and drawing talismans. His talismans worked only intermittently. The bronze coin sword he carried, strung with forty-nine bronze coins, had never yet had a chance to be used. Whether it could truly suppress evil and slay demons, he had no idea.
The young Daoist was named Huang Shang, from a gentry family with no hope of passing the imperial exams. He had practiced Daoist arts for nearly five years but still couldn't achieve any mastery in talisman drawing. His master, who taught him the Dao, was rarely by his side. Huang Shang had spent almost all his savings to assemble this sword made from "Three Precious Coins" of the previous dynasty—Shence, Yuanguang, and Zhengde. His master had said these three types of precious coins, with their ninefold seal script, contained the strongest yang qi.
As for the talismans Huang Shang drew, their rank was poor, so he had to rely on quantity to compensate.
Sending such a half-baked Daoist to deal with Flying Eagle Fort's fierce, baleful ghosts was truly forcing him to bite the bullet. But he and Tao Xieyang were sworn brothers, bound by loyalty. Seeing Tao Xieyang determined to come and rid the people of this scourge, Huang Shang couldn't just watch his brother die here.
Their brotherhood wasn't the superficial toast-making of bold martial wanderers; it was the kind where they'd give their lives for each other.
Before this house was abandoned, its owner must have been well-off. The threshold was quite high, the gate made of good cypress wood, adorned with beast-faced door knockers—ancient and deep.
From his sleeve, Daoist Huang Shang pulled out a yellow paper talisman. It had been raining heavily, and now looking at the wet gate and high wall, he smiled bitterly. "Neither the heavens nor the earth are on our side."
The saber-wielder Tao Xieyang hummed in agreement, staring fixedly at the gate. One hand on his saber hilt, he suddenly turned and slapped the Daoist hard on the shoulder with his other hand. "I'll go in first. If the situation is too dangerous to save me, don't worry about me. Just find me a nice feng shui grave later!"
When Huang Shang was about to speak, Tao Xieyang grinned, his smile bright. "I'm not being polite! If we both die here, we'll be fighting over wine down below!"
Tao Xieyang withdrew his hand, gathered his qi into his dantian, and slashed at the gate with his saber. "Open up!"
His saber momentum was fierce, directly splitting the gate open. Tao Xieyang strode inside, his resolve absolute.
For a moment, his steps were heavy, as if mired in mud. But Tao Xieyang showed no fear. With a soft shout, he swung his saber forward, slashing at the empty air. The saber gleamed cold, with a faint glow—clearly he had found the doorway into true martial arts.
Tao Xieyang cut a path straight ahead with his saber.
The two "Gentleman's Guardian Talismans" hidden in his chest and at his waist instantly turned black, as if soaked in ink. Their already meager spiritual energy vanished completely.
Huang Shang was about to hurry in after him when he felt gusts of yin wind rushing out from inside the gate. He could only find two slightly drier spots on the inner wall of the gate and paste two house-protecting talismans there. Only then did he feel somewhat better, no longer having his breath constricted. Then he pinched one talisman in each hand—the "Radiant True Lord Sword-Holding Talisman" and the "Yellow God and Yue Seal Talisman" —both famous protective charms passed down from antiquity.
But after taking only three steps forward against the yin wind, Huang Shang found that the sword-holding talisman and the seal talisman had mostly turned black, as if they'd just been pulled out of an inkstone. The young Daoist was horrified and couldn't help shouting, "The baleful aura is thick as water! The ghost here is definitely not one of the wronged souls who died in the alley back then! It must be a fierce ghost that has been wandering for over a hundred years! Xieyang, get out of the house quickly…"
But the main room door in the distance opened on its own. Tao Xieyang charged in with his saber, and the door slammed shut behind him.
Huang Shang's face was full of grief. Straining to pour his thin spiritual energy into the two ruined talismans in his hands, he roared, "Shift the calamity, remove the guilt!"
The sword-holding talisman was motionless, soaked through by the ink-like condensed baleful aura of the cursed ground. The two fingers holding the talisman felt as if burned by fire. Huang Shang quickly threw it away.
Fortunately, the seal talisman shimmered with spiritual light, suddenly brightening, illuminating the surrounding eerie phenomena.
The talisman burst into flames, burning fiercely. The yellow paper consumed rapidly, emitting a pungent green smoke.
All around Huang Shang, sinister, sneering laughter came and went, but not a single figure was visible.
His neck felt as if licked by an icy-cold long tongue, giving the young Daoist goosebumps.
Huang Shang threw away the burnt seal talisman and was about to pull a trump card talisman from his sleeve.
His left hand, reaching into his sleeve, felt as if pricked by a needle. Huang Shang shuddered. Then inexplicably there was a sudden downpour on his head. Huang Shang looked around—it was still a light drizzle. The young Daoist mechanically wiped his face with his hand and looked at his palm. It was full of blood.
The next moment, Huang Shang instinctively looked up.
A pale face without eyeballs was right in front of his nose, almost touching it.
Huang Shang stood frozen, dumbstruck.
In an instant, a hand pressed hard on his shoulder and yanked him backward. Huang Shang flew backward out of the house and landed in the muddy alley, dazed.
All he saw was a familiar tall, thin figure—the old steward of Flying Eagle Fort, He Ya, Tao Xieyang's master.
The old man held two talismans in his hands. The talisman paper wasn't ordinary yellow paper; it shimmered with flowing light, crystal clear. Even amidst the yin wind and baleful rain, the light fluttered like two candle flames in a strong wind, but the talisman's spiritual radiance remained swaying without dispersing.
The old steward stepped in the pattern of the Big Dipper, murmuring incantations.
Huang Shang had just breathed a sigh of relief when his neck was seized by snow-white hands with extremely long nails. He was yanked backward, his hands flailing uselessly against the muddy ground. His head and back slammed heavily into the wall of the alley, as if someone inside the wall was trying to pull him in.
Huang Shang rolled his eyes and passed out.
When the young Daoist came to, he was back in the guest room of Flying Eagle Fort's main building. Next door was Tao Xieyang's room.
Huang Shang staggered out of bed and just happened to see Old Master He walking out of the room with a grave expression.
He Ya sighed. "Xieyang's body has no serious injuries, but…"
The old man didn't finish.
He Ya had wanted to scold Huang Shang for being so rash, accompanying Tao Xieyang into that alley without permission.
But looking at the young Daoist's panic, especially the black, ink-like scratch marks on his neck that hadn't faded after a whole night, the old man's heart softened. He sighed again and hurried away to brew a pot of medicine to help his disciple restore his foundation.
Huang Shang tried several times to push the door open, but each time withdrew his hand, utterly dejected.
---
Tonight Chen Ping'an and Lu Tai were to attend a banquet at the Huan family mansion.
Half an hour before the banquet. They had spent the day wandering around—the main streets and small lanes, various wells, the Huan ancestral hall, the training ground, the execution platform of Flying Eagle Fort—all visited.
Lu Tai observed the various door gods on each household's gate, while Chen Ping'an occasionally crouched down, silently pinching a bit of soil and putting it in his mouth to chew.
Back in the courtyard, Chen Ping'an suddenly remembered something. "Did Steward He have an ulterior motive when he let us into Flying Eagle Fort, especially arranging for us to stay here?"
Lu Tai nodded. "A strategy of driving the wolf to devour the tiger. Likely Flying Eagle Fort is at its wit's end, trying any desperate measure. I wouldn't be surprised if, during tonight's banquet, when we confront them about this, they come clean. Apologies, compensation, then throw money at us to help them through their crisis."
Chen Ping'an sighed. If the two of them had low cultivation and couldn't withstand those wandering souls and ghosts, would they have just died in that house last night? Rolled up in two coarse straw mats and thrown out of Flying Eagle Fort?
Lu Tai seemed to read Chen Ping'an's thoughts and laughed. "Feeling how treacherous the martial world is? But have you considered that maybe Flying Eagle Fort and He Ya have unspeakable difficulties? After hearing their story, you might become righteous with indignation and willingly step forward."
Chen Ping'an shook his head and said softly, "Things have a sequence, right and wrong have priorities. The order cannot be reversed. Only then can one weigh importance, define good and evil, and finally choose how to act."
Lu Tai smiled. "Sounds simple, but it's not easy to do."
Chen Ping'an hummed in agreement. "Extremely difficult."
Not long after, Huan Chang and Huan Shu arrived together. Today Huan Shu wore a warm yellow dress, standing gracefully. Huan Chang was still in his usual attire, but had removed his ox-horn bow.
Earlier, Lu Tai had asked Chen Ping'an whether they should give Flying Eagle Fort and Huan Shu a surprise. Before Lu Tai could finish, Chen Ping'an scowled, slapped his gourd sword holder, and Lu Tai immediately shut up, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture.
At a railing on a distant building, a cheerful woman was radiant, her smile tender. Last night, she had heard her daughter's private talk about a charming young gentleman from elsewhere who would visit with a friend today, asking her mother to take a look.
The woman found it amusing and agreed.
As for the somewhat childish childhood engagement from years ago, forget Flying Eagle Fort taking it seriously; the other party wished it had never happened, so as not to be dragged down by the destitute fort.
The virtuous woman thought that one day her daughter would be like her mother, at the prime of her life, wearing the most beautiful bright red wedding gown and marrying the man of her heart. She felt both gratified and inevitably a little sad.
Her eyes reddened, she lowered her head slightly, took out an embroidered silk handkerchief, and gently dabbed the corner of her eye.
The woman didn't realize it herself, and no one in Flying Eagle Fort saw through it—her face, with blood trickling from all seven apertures, was covered in countless cracks, crisscrossing like a porcelain vessel on the verge of shattering.