Chapter 2: Sudden Storm
Chapter 2: Sudden Storm
Guangdu sighed inwardly and gently covered Ying Lian with a thin quilt.
He waited until she was deeply asleep before quietly summoning his two disciples to the boat’s prow.
The night was heavy, and a cold breeze swept over the river, lifting Guangdu’s beard and eyebrows to reveal the worry etched on his face.
A monk said, “Master, what troubles you?”
Guangdu responded, “Feng Jue, Feng Kong, this girl’s background is bizarre. According to Guo Jiangfeng, she’s a descendant of the Red Lotus Sect, which must be true, but she’s still young and hasn’t committed any evil deeds. We shouldn’t trouble her and must send her away. However, Master Zhuge’s birthday approaches soon, and if I delay the journey, it would dishonor him. Remember, the Four Great Clans are far stronger now than a decade ago—rich, powerful, and talented—while our Shaolin Sect has declined from its former glory. We must handle all courtesies carefully. So I want to find someone to escort her. But as monks, traveling with a girl is inconvenient; if discovered, it could harm the Shaolin Sect’s reputation.”
Feng Jue suddenly frowned and said, “Master, there might be a person.”
Guangdu asked, “Who?”
Feng Jue replied, “Do you recall that disciple expelled from the sect a few years ago by Senior Guang Xing…”
Guangdu’s expression darkened: “You mean Fengchen…”
Feng Jue said, “Exactly him. I was close to him in the past, and I know he lives in Gujian Village upriver on the Yi River, about fifty or sixty miles from here.”
Guangdu frowned doubtfully: “But Fengchen has improper conduct; he’s not a man to entrust orphans to…”
Feng Jue argued, “I’ll do my best. Do you have a better way, master?”
Guangdu thought for a moment, then said, “It has to be this. Order the boatman to rush to Gujian Village.”
Two hours later, the boat moored on the western bank.
Feng Jue took Lian’er ashore.
Lian’er didn’t know their destination and dared not ask much, so she followed Feng Jue.
Feng Jue saw her walking too slowly and hoisted Lian’er onto his back.
He used his light-footed skill to stride swiftly toward Gujian Village.
Gujian Village stood twenty miles away on the western shore.
Feng Jue moved extraordinarily fast and reached the village outskirts in moments.
The scene unfolded: roosters crowed by a thatched inn under the moon; frost coated a plank bridge with no footprints; in the distant, bustling world, loneliness marked this foreign land.
It was already dawn then.
Light glowed from a house at the village entrance, clearly showing its master had risen early.
Feng Jue approached with Lian’er to inquire.
Just then, the door creaked open, and by the indoor light, a burly man stepped out, carrying a large iron furnace in each hand—each furnace stood half a man tall and thick as two men could embrace, filled with coal lumps.
It looked as if fire had just been lit inside, with flames leaping a foot high spurting sparks that spattered the man’s arms, but he seemed oblivious.
He strode into the courtyard and thudded the furnaces onto the ground.
He turned back toward the house but suddenly reversed again.
His fiery, blazing eyes pierced through the fence wall and burned onto Feng Jue and Lian’er.
Upon recognizing Feng Jue, he gave a cold snort, ignored them, and walked straight inside.
Feng Jue smiled and led Lian’er to the fence gate.
Without ceremony, he pushed the gate open and entered.
Lian’er went to warm herself by the furnace, while Feng Jue stood in the courtyard silently.
Moments later, the man emerged carrying a wine jar with a large bowl on its mouth in his left hand and a big platter of beef in his right.
He placed them on a stone table in the yard, not glancing at the two as he filled the bowl and drank most of it in one gulp.
He then picked up two chunks of beef and tossed them into his mouth.
Lian’er noticed the man looked under thirty, with thick brows and tiger-like eyes, wide mouth, and broad forehead.
Though it was cold, he wore only a coarse vest, baring his chest and arms—bulging, bronze muscles showing a lifetime of hard labor.
Feng Jue clasped his hands and said, “I greet you, brother.”
The man laughed mockingly: “Monk, you joke. I’m a blacksmith, not your brother.”
Feng Jue stated, “In my heart, my brother is the blacksmith, and the blacksmith is my brother.”
The man’s eyes swept over Lian’er as he sneered coldly: “Bringing a girl here means you want to entrust her to me? Let me say, no matter what noble clan she’s from, it has nothing to do with me. I won’t care for her.”
Though rough in appearance, he was sharp-minded and had instantly seen through it.
Feng Jue seemed unsurprised and asked, “Will you really not accept her?”
The man replied without hesitation: “No.”
Feng Jue grinned: “Good you refuse, or once she’s delivered, the Jianghu (Martial World) will fall into chaos.”
The man scoffed with amusement: “What chaos? The Jianghu (Martial World) is your Jianghu, not mine.”
Feng Jue lowered his head and whispered: “Truthfully, this child isn’t from a righteous clan but is a descendant of the Red Lotus Sect.”
The man retorted coldly: “Red Lotus, White Lotus—I don’t care.”
Feng Jue felt anxious inside, knowing the Long River Gang must be hunting them fiercely and might arrive soon, but he also understood the man’s temper—once he refused, coaxing or provoking wouldn’t work.
He couldn’t help but rail: “This isn’t your call. You deal with it.”
Having said that, he turned to leave, thinking inwardly: I’ll leave the child here. If you stand by idly, that’s just her fate—a short life.
Yet before he’d walked two steps, a breeze swept his head; the man had leaped before him, shoving a chunk of beef into his mouth.
Feng Jue jerked his face aside, but the man tapped his solar plexus point, paralyzing him.
He cried urgently: “What are you doing?”
The man didn’t answer. He tossed a rope, pulled Lian’er over, sealed her mute point, and swiftly bound her to Feng Jue’s back.
He then sealed Feng Jue’s shoulder acupoints and unblocked his solar plexus point—now Feng Jue could move but couldn’t lift his arms or undo the sealed points.
The man ignored them and went on eating and drinking.
His meaning was clear: you go, take the child; you stay, be with her—it’s none of my business.
Time passed, and the eastern sky paled, nearly dawn.
The furnace fire roared hotter, and the man took an iron clamp to insert a lump of stubborn iron inside.
Feng Jue saw he had no such intentions and sighed inwardly: “Unblock my acupoints so I can leave with the child.”
The man sneered: “Unblock your points, you’d run for sure. If you want to go, just lift your leg.”
Feng Jue argued: “I can’t. This child must reach Gansu—mountains high, roads long—with the Long River Gang in pursuit. If points aren’t unblocked, how will I escape?”
The man sneered wordlessly.
Suddenly, a crossbow bolt shot from the woods toward Feng Jue.
The man, sharp-eyed and swift hearing, flicked his iron clamp and deflected the arrow.
Simultaneously, arrows flew from three sides.
Feng Jue had faced outward; now attacked from three directions, he backed toward the house.
His arms paralyzed and burdened by someone bound to him, his moves were clumsy.
After dodging several bolts, one pierced his left flank.
He stiffened and lost the strength to avoid the other arrows—seven or eight bolts struck his chest and flanks.
Seeing him hit, the man’s eyes blazed red.
He roared and lunged forward, shielding Feng Jue and Lian’er while retreating inside the house.
Then ambushers surged on three sides—Fang Haize and his Long River Gang men.
Fang Haize raised his hand and released a signal flare, its boom echoing across the fields.
Guo Jiangfeng, unable to catch up to Guangdu, had split his forces for a wide search.
Fang Haize led a group of thirty in this direction and arrived at Gujian Village at daybreak.
Learning from past mistakes, he launched a covert ambush—succeeding in hitting Feng Jue.
The man unblocked Feng Jue’s acupoints but saw him already bathed in blood and dying.
He looked to the sky and bellowed, striking himself several times: “I killed you…”
Feng Jue gathered his last shred of strength, gripping the man’s wrist: “Escape… you can’t save the child…”
The man howled: “I won’t run… won’t run…”
Feng Jue rasped: “You… aren’t… who you were two years ago… you can’t beat them…”
Lian’er was terrified by so much blood and began sobbing loudly. The man shouted, “Shut up!” She swallowed her sobs back into her stomach.
Feng Jue was fading in and out of consciousness, gripping the man’s hand as he swayed. “Run… you can’t save her…”
The man declared loudly, “I don’t believe it. I refuse to believe it. Give me the child. I will get her to Gansu. If I fail her even slightly, I’ll dash my brains out.” Feng Jue tried to say more, but felt a surge of energy and blood rise within him; he spat out a mouthful of blood and died.
At that moment, Fang Haize’s voice sounded from outside the door: “Friends inside the house, listen! We only want the girl. If you are sensible, hand her over…”
The man didn’t answer. He pulled out the crossbow bolts one by one from Feng Jue’s body, broke each in two, then covered the corpse with a bedsheet. He pressed his palms together silently for a few moments, stood up, grabbed an iron hammer, and shouted, “Fine! Come in and take her, then!”
Thud! Thud! Thud! The door and windows were smashed into gaping holes one after another as more than a dozen men surged inside.
Seeing the intruders flooding in, the man raised and brought down the hammer into the wall. As the inner wall collapsed, the whole house roared with a deafening crash, collapsing entirely and burying everyone beneath it.
By the time Fang Haize and his men, covered in dust and grime, managed to claw their way out, the man and Lian’er were long gone.
Deep within the forest, the man strode forward with Lian’er on his back. Lian’er felt the wind whistling past her ears, and in moments, they were somewhere entirely unfamiliar. A winding, narrow path appeared ahead through the trees. The man scanned the surroundings; seeing no one, he set Lian’er down and released the acupoint that had struck her dumb.
Finally able to speak, Lian’er had countless questions ready. But the man covered her mouth and whispered into her ear, “Don’t speak. I am Gu Fengchen. From now on, call me Big Brother. What is your name?” Lian’er told him truthfully. Gu Fengchen nodded, then asked exactly where Lian’er needed to go. A deep frown creased his brow. Gansu is thousands of miles from here, he thought grimly, and we’ll have to pass through the Long River Gang’s territory. I need to carefully plan our strategy…
Suddenly, he dropped to the ground and pressed his ear to the earth. “Those jerks got here fast enough…” he cursed. Hoisting Lian’er back onto his shoulders, he dashed down the narrow path at top speed.
They hadn’t run far when a black-lacquered carriage rumbled around a bend ahead. The driver cracked his whip loudly, whistling and shouting arrogantly. Gu Fengchen charged straight towards it. Startled, the driver yanked the reins hard. He opened his mouth to curse, but felt only a blur before his eyes. Then, a hand clamped onto his throat like a vice, freezing him completely. He couldn’t even scream before Gu Fengchen flung him bodily from the seat like a sack of grain into the roadside weeds.
After disposing of the driver, Gu Fengchen swiftly pulled back the carriage curtain. Seeing it was empty, he guessed the driver was out to fetch someone. He shoved Lian’er inside, seized the reins, turned the horse sharply around, cracked the whip, and the carriage tore down the road, vanishing in a cloud of dust.
Moments later, Fang Haize arrived with his men, panting heavily from the pursuit. The narrow path was eerily silent, the forest hushed. Not a single person was in sight.
Gu Fengchen urged the horse on, caring little for Lian’er’s state. The carriage seemed to fly, jolting violently. Lian’er felt like her organs would be shaken out. Finally, with a sharp Bang!, her head slammed hard against the carriage door, and she blacked out.
They raced on relentlessly for an hour before a market town appeared ahead. Gu Fengchen directed the horse towards it, stopping the carriage outside an inn. He flung open the door to find Lian’er glaring fiercely at him with wide, resentful eyes. Ignoring this completely, he scooped her out of the carriage and strode into the inn.
Lian’er yelled at him, “Are you trying to kill me! You almost rattled me to death…” Gu Fengchen replied coldly, “If you want to reach Gansu alive, listen to me. This is Long River Gang turf. Their people are everywhere. Keep quiet.” Remembering the terrifying events, Lian’er snapped her mouth shut.
Gu Fengchen got them a room. Once they were settled, he patted his pockets and found not a single copper coin. He sold the carriage to the inn at a loss, keeping only the horse. He called for the innkeeper to bring a jug of wine, two plates of beef, and a large bowl of noodles. After he and Lian’er had eaten, he instructed Lian’er not to leave the room under any circumstances. He pocketed the silver and went out alone.
Before long, Gu Fengchen returned and tossed down a large bundle. Curious, Lian’er opened it to find several sets of clothes and some dried meat and baked flatbreads. She climbed onto the bed to try the clothes, and when she emerged, she was dressed like a young nobleman.
Gu Fengchen had changed into the clothes of a servant. Transformed, they rested briefly before setting out again. After confirming Lian’er’s destination once more, Gu Fengchen helped her onto the horse’s back and led it by the reins. Whenever the road was deserted, he swung up behind her and they galloped at full speed.
This entire region belonged to the Long River Gang. The two of them proceeded with utmost caution, anxious not to attract suspicion.
After traveling for two days, they passed through Jingxing County and Niangzi Pass, finally crossing into Shanxi territory. Here, they were no longer under the Long River Gang’s sway. Their minds eased slightly, and they slowed their pace, beginning to enjoy the scenery along the way. Conversation between them grew more frequent as well.
By noon one day, as they were traveling through Yuncheng Prefecture, a fierce wind suddenly sprung up. A dark cloud came galloping across the sky, spreading like spilled ink, quickly turning half the sky pitch black. Gu Fengchen carried no umbrella. He threw Ying Lian onto his back and sprinted along the roadside, desperate to find shelter. He ran two or three li before spotting a village up ahead on the main road. Beside the village entrance hung a faded, crooked green banner from a house — a sign for a tiny village tavern.
Feng Chen, with Ying Lian on his back, dashed towards the tavern in quick strides. He burst inside just as a heavy Thunderclap! boomed overhead, followed immediately by a downpour of raindrops the size of beans. The world outside transformed into a blinding sheet of white light.
The tavern was simple but spacious, housing seven or eight white poplar wood tables wiped clean, though it stood empty. Feng Chen called out several times. A cross-eyed young servant emerged from the backroom, casting a sidelong glance at them. Seeing what appeared to be a rustic brother and sister with coarse clothes and big feet, he gave a cool, disinterested grunt. Wiping a table with a filthy rag he asked, “What’ll ya have?” Feng Chen ordered one bowl of beef noodles and one large bowl of plain noodles. With a grunted “Wait here,” the servant disappeared into the kitchen.
Ying Lian wrinkled her nose and whispered quietly, “Big brother, can we really eat the food here?” Feng Chen asked, “Why not?” Ying Lian murmured, “That cross-eyed guy’s hands were filthy. His nails were grimy-black. And that cloth he wiped the table with… It looked like… like it came straight from a toilet brush. If he brings me my food, I’d rather starve than eat it.”
Feng Chen answered calmly, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you the food. But you mustn’t let them hear you saying that. Bad luck will follow.” Ying Lian blinked. “Why?” Feng Chen explained, “If they heard you, they’d hold a grudge. The cook would drop something nasty in your noodles when you weren’t looking— maybe spit into the broth, wipe his nose straight into the pot, or even toss something like horse or donkey dung in. Then serve you a steaming hot bowl of it…”
Ying Lian grew greener and greener at the prospect. She jammed her fingers in her ears and shook her head violently.
Feng Chen burst out laughing. Images of the pranks he’d pulled back at Shaolin Temple sprang to mind. Once, he’d thrown several caterpillars into a stewpot. Several senior disciples, oblivious, unknowingly consumed meat and broke their vegetarian vows. Abbot Guangdu had been furious, sentencing Feng Chen to ten days of facing the wall and banning him from the kitchens forever.
Just as this pleasant memory surfaced, a clatter of hooves sounded sharply from the roadway outside. Several horses approached rapidly and halted directly before the tavern door. A voice, exquisitely melodious and gentle, spoke, “Let’s rest here.” Feng Chen’s heart skipped a beat. A voice that beautiful? he marvelled silently. And to arrive in this downpour sounding utterly unruffled? Such composure… impressive.
The wooden door opened, and seven people entered. Feng Chen glanced back. They were led by a figure swathed in an oversized cyan silk robe. A wide bamboo hat sat upon their head, its long, dark veil falling past the shoulders, thoroughly concealing not only the face but even the size or shape of the person beneath. The six people trailing behind them made no attempt to hide their faces. There were men and women, their clothing ranging from elegant to worn, but all walked with steady, confident steps and alert, piercing gazes.
The seven settled at the table farthest inside. The tavern keeper hurried out to greet them. One of the group, a middle-aged woman of striking beauty, inquired, “Shopkeeper, do you have any private rooms?” The shopkeeper flushed crimson. “My apologies. This tiny sesame-seed of a place mostly gets country bumpkins, not like the big city spots. We don’t have private rooms.” The middle-aged beauty simply nodded. “My master dislikes mingling with common folk. Then do this: Hang two lengths of white cloth around that table to enclose it. We’ll triple your cost. Is it any trouble?”
The shopkeeper repeatedly said, “No trouble, no trouble…” He summoned a worker to bring out white cloth. Two bamboo poles were planted in the ground, fencing off the table.
Gu Fengchen felt deeply displeased upon hearing this. He thought: Unwilling to see vulgar folk? Hmph, so high and mighty. Isn’t that shopkeeper just as vulgar? Likely even more unbearably common than us two.
He was naturally inclined to stir up trouble. Had this journey not held critical importance, he would have certainly found some way to cause a major scene for sheer amusement. But recalling his master’s repeated warnings, he had no choice but to suppress the anger in his heart and ignore it.
Before long, the worker brought up two bowls of noodles. Ying Lian inspected hers meticulously for quite some time and, finding none of the things Fengchen had suggested, finally relaxed and began to eat. At that moment, the “unwilling to see vulgar folk” group also had their food arrive, and they began eating and drinking in utter silence.
Although quite a few people filled the shop, not a single voice was raised beyond the soft sounds of people eating and drinking. This silence only made the sound of the rain outside seem ever louder. Gu Fengchen raised his eyes to look out. The wind outside had stopped. Between heaven and earth, a vast and desolate expanse stretched, covered by nothing but a sheer, pale curtain of rain. This small inn now seemed like a lone leaf boat adrift on a vast ocean.
Suddenly, shouts of men and neighing of horses sounded from the main road. It seemed a large group was surging towards this place. A shock went through Gu Fengchen’s heart: Could it be the Long River Gang catching up?
He turned his head to look out and saw over twenty men galloping on horseback. They whooped and yelled:
“The village ahead, go take shelter from the rain!”
“Whoa, a tavern! Fiery liquor and fatty pork! Drink the damn stuff!”
In the blink of an eye, they arrived outside the door. The shopkeeper hurried forward to welcome them, bustling about like a top spinning wildly, his face split into a beaming smile.
This crowd separated into three distinct groups, seemingly familiar with one another. The leaders of the three groups shared the central table, while their subordinates filled the other four tables.
Gu Fengchen observed them coldly. The three men at the centre were dressed like warriors. One was an old man with a sickly, pale face who coughed lightly and incessantly, appearing gravely ill. One was a young nobleman dressed in splendid, colourful robes, exuding spirited vitality; his gaze swept arrogantly. The third was tall and imposing, with sharp yellow eyes like a hawk’s and hands covered in hard callouses on all ten fingers, as though specialized in skills like the Iron Sand Palm or Eagle Claw Technique. This was Gu Fengchen’s first time descending Shaolin Mountain, and his experience in the Jianghu (Martial World) was minimal. Usually, he had merely listened to his master mentioning some figures of the rivers and lakes – always notable and distinguished individuals. Yet, looking left and right at these three men, he couldn’t quite associate them with any described by his master. He figured they must not hold significant repute in the Jianghu, and thus paid them no further mind, focusing only on waiting for the rain to end so he could hasten onward. Yet, the sky remained overcast, the clouds thick and heavy and pressing low, completely still without a breath of wind. This rain seemed endless. Resigned, he asked for a pot of hot tea from the waiter and sat drinking it slowly. Ying Lian rested her chin in her hands, her large eyes staring outside, lost in unknown thoughts.
Then they heard the hawk-eyed giant speak: “Today is March twentieth. Six more days and it’ll be the twenty-seventh. By rights, our brethren along the Shaanxi pathways should already be making a stir. Yet travelling this whole way, we’ve met none – only met Elder Quan and Brother Duan. Could it be others left early and have already arrived at Jianxian Manor (Hall of Meeting the Virtuous)?”
The young Master Duan snorted coldly. “Not running into them is fine, spares our ears the clamour.” The hawk-eyed giant laughed loudly. “That’s where you’re wrong, Brother Duan! We came expressly to mingle. If you seek quiet ears, wouldn’t tending vegetables and watering your garden at home have been better? Why bother wandering Jianghu!” Seven or eight of his men burst out in raucous laughter. Master Duan flushed crimson. He started to react angrily, but the surnamed Quan old man subtly pressed a hand down on him.
The old Master Quan produced a conciliatory chuckle and said, “Whether one prefers activity or stillness stems from innate temperament. But when travelling away from home, harmony remains paramount. Is it not said: At home one enjoys a thousand days of ease, while away just one proves difficult?” Though the elder spoke briefly, he possessed an innate air of authority. Master Duan glared at the hawk-eyed giant once more before abruptly shifting the topic: “Uncle Quan, this occasion is Master Zhuge’s birthday celebration. Those paying respects will surely number a thousand, maybe at least eight hundred. It’s said even the two great sects, Shaolin and Wudang, are dispatching representatives to offer congratulations. Such scale is extraordinary. Yet as far as I know, Master Zhuge isn’t the type for such pomp. Why then is this affair causing such a huge stir, truly shaking the entire Jianghu?”
Gu Fengchen silently deduced: So they’re also here for the birthday pilgrimage. This Master Zhuge’s reputation is certainly formidable… I wonder how he built such a reputation…
Just then, the old Master Quan responded: “This matter greatly perplexes me as well. Master Zhuge is absolutely not one for ostentation. No doubt, numerous within our Jianghu who have benefited from his grace obstinately insisted on attending. Once decided, not even he could have barred their way.”
The hawk-eyed giant interjected, “In today’s Jianghu, Master Zhuge alone commands such reverence.” Old Master Quan nodded: “In the martial world today, the four great families shine uniquely. Nangong and Qi hold court alongside Zhuge, while the Lonly Eagle clings beside the Twin Dragons. That adage has circulated for nearly twenty years. Are these positions trivial? Yet regarding these four families, each also dominates in distinct fields.”
Master Duan inquired, “Distinctly dominant fields? Uncle Quan, please enlighten us.”
Old Master Quan demurred, “No need for ‘enlighten’. This old man merely breathed an extra score of years, hearing more perhaps. The Twin Dragon Fort in Liaodong possesses immense wealth and influence, acting imperiously. They truly earn an epithet of ‘Majestic’. Conversely, the Golden Eagle Sect of Longxi possesses unrivaled technical expertise, aloof and haughty – a perfect embodiment of ‘Arrogant’. The Nangong Family has long resided amidst the exquisite scenery of Lake Dongting. Their demeanour is refined, unparalleled in the era – undeniably ‘Elegant’. As for the Zhuge Family? They prize promises weighted in gold, readily laying down their lives to aid scholars in dire straits. Theirs rightfully claims the banner of ‘Righteousness’. Though each family possesses unique strengths, in terms of comparison, it’s the Zhuge Family that commands the deepest, most universal esteem. Consider this: if one of the other three families celebrated a birthday, would the attendees be this vast in number?”
Noticing everyone remaining completely silent, listening intently, the elder’s enthusiasm grew. He continued, “Truthfully, this old man shares no connection with Master Zhuge himself and never presumed to reach high. However, two years ago, my son unfortunately offended the small Tang Clan, Sichuan faction. Those villains used ‘Green Rain Miasma’ to poison and blind his eyes beyond remedy. Unable to bear the thought of him becoming useless thenceforth, I had to swallow pride and, aged face wrinkled, go knock on Master Zhuge’s door seeking aid. I harboured no hope; with our insignificant background, likely we counted not enough to summon such presence. Yet, who could foresee? Master Zhuge, hearing the cause, straight away dispatched Young Hero Zhuge directly into Sichuan. Through both soft entreaty and forceful persuasion, he wrung the Antidote free! Zhongnian! Come forward. Show your thanks.”
A robust man in his thirties rose from the group. He clasped a fist-salute around respectfully and declared, “This humble one is Quan Zhongnian, graced with remembrance by Master Zhuge – his boundless kindness eternally carved within this heart. This journey represents his humble self travelling solely hither a second time, approaching specifically to kowtow and express gratitude.” Everyone saw his eyes shone clear and alert, yet dark, purplish patches encircled his sockets – evidently residual scarring from belated treatment.
The hawk-eyed giant boomed loudly, “Master Zhuge aiding those in urgent need? This fact universally stands known across Jianghu! Does one require our shouting it further? Afraid His Honoured Self hearing such clamour might find displeasure instead!” Old Master Quan nodded smilingly: “True, true.”
Just as this faction conversed cheerfully, suddenly, a sinister, cold snicker echoed from the doorway.
All heads turned. A man in a yellow robe now stood at the entrance, seemingly having just arrived yet somehow seeming to have lingered long. One hand held a rain-soaked umbrella.
The hawk-eyed giant and the other two exchanged looks – each betrayed sheer astonishment. Considering their substantial confidence in their martial perception, remaining wholly unaware at when this Yellow-Shirted Man had manifested struck alarming confusion.
Old Master Quan, retaining his smile, voiced hospitably: “Friend, also seeking refuge from this weather? Enter. Share a drink perhaps?” The sallow-robed figure stowed his umbrella, stepped inside the inn, and shook water droplets onto the floor. Ignoring the three entirely, he murmured softly: “Quan Tianshou of the Fengxiang Sect, deputy Chief Escort Duan Wenbo of Western Peak Security, and the Golden-Eyed Eagle Lu Qinhu of Jintai Villa. Hmph! Three obscure nobodies, bold to journey towards the grand convergence? Feeling no shame revealing such disgrace publicly?”
Initial pride stirred slightly within these three – hearing their names recognized implied indeed possessing some degree of Jianghu stature! Though swiftly came indignation. Lu Qinhu, fiercest-tempered, slammed a palm down thunderously upon his tabletop: “Impudent peasant! Daring publicly shame gentlemen? Finding life unpleasantly lengthy? Ha?!”
The Huangyi person leaned his umbrella deliberately against the wall, smoothed down his hair calmly, then lowered posture to scrape clinging mud from underfoot – reacting as though hearing absolutely nothing. Jin Yan Diao Lu Qinhu was thoroughly accustomed to dominance and obedience. The other’s utter indifference ignited berserk rage. His figure blurred – closing aggressively the distance instantly! Five claw-like fingers of his left hand lunged straight toward the nape of Huang Yi’s neck!
Lu Qinhu earned his title “Jin Yan Diao” – “Golden Eyes” denoting his ocular distinctness, while “Diao” referenced his trademark art. Within Northwest boundaries, Lu Qinhu’s Tianshou Claws (Celestial Eagle Claws) carried substantial weight. This grab ripped forward producing shrill wind-noise – genuinely ferocious and razor-precise!
Yet Huang Yi remained head-down, stubbornly preoccupied with scraping mud. A soft “thud” sounded: Lu Qinhu’s five claws solidly impacted the bare neck! Ecstatic triumph flashed through Lu Qinhu’s mind: So truly mediocre! Merely minimal exertion needed… snapped vertebrae… leaving crippled henceforth!
Suddenly… SLAP! Human silhouettes abruptly recoiled apart! Shouts of shock erupted! One figure stumbled backward unsteadily, resembling a drunken man!
Observing then… Huang Yi still knelt scraping mud undisturbed underneath… while Lu Qinhu… pitifully awkward… mouth plastered shut entirely by glutinous earth!
Gu Fengchen witnessed perfectly: As Lu Qinhu clamped powerfully downward, his target remained utterly unmoving. Simultaneously, one mud-fragment tore upward like shot projectile slamming forcefully against Lu Qinhu’s lips!
For Lu Qinhu personally, it became painfully clearer: His five fingers felt as seizing astonishingly tough ox-leather – impossible to grip forcefully! That clay missile – exactly when propelled skyward? He possessed absolutely zero perception!
Lu Qinhu wiped aside the wet mud on his face with his hand, but the sheer humiliation had already washed over him; his ears burned crimson.
Young Master Duan Wenbo, sitting at the back, gave a cold sneer and taunted, “Eagles usually feast on meat. Pray tell, why has it turned to mud today?”
Hearing the venomous insult, Lu Qinhu roared in fury and lunged at the man in yellow. His claws struck like wind, aiming with lightning speed for the seven major acupoints on the opponent’s back and waist. This was his signature lethal skill — the “Golden Eagle Extinction Hand.”
This technique was exceedingly vicious, targeting vital points with every strike. Ordinary men, if struck just once, would suffer severe damage to their kidney essence, doomed to childlessness. Lu Qinhu knew its severity and rarely used it lightly. Yet today, publicly humiliated, he cast all caution aside, determined to subdue the yellow-clad man before him.
But the yellow-clad man didn’t even turn around. Remaining half-squatted on the ground, he kept his back towards Lu Qinhu, stepping only half a pace east, then a step west, in an utterly bizarre manner. Lu Qinhu’s furious flurry of attacks couldn’t even brush a single corner of his robe. The more Lu Qinhu pressed, the more unsettled he became. This is bad, he thought inwardly. This man is facing away yet remains utterly at ease, not even counterattacking. His martial skills are beyond fathomable. I am definitely not his match.
His fear sapped the power from his moves. It was precisely at this moment that the man suddenly straightened his legs and stood up.
Had this happened moments before, the yellow-clad man standing might not have been an issue. But Lu Qinhu was now executing “Twin Peaks Flanked,” his arms outstretched to seize the opponent’s shoulders. Since the yellow-clad man had been squatting, Lu Qinhu had also been in a half-squat to attack. Caught utterly unprepared when the yellow-clad man abruptly stood, the back of that man’s skull collided squarely with Lu Qinhu’s chin.
With a sickening crack, Lu Qinhu’s chin shattered into pieces. Worse still, he happened to be roaring loudly at that moment to intimidate his foe. When the yellow-clad man’s head slammed upwards, Lu Qinhu’s lower jaw clamped shut violently upon impact. The force bit off half of his own tongue.
Lu Qinhu shrieked madly, leaping so high his head almost scraped the ceiling. When he landed, his hands clamped over his mouth, blood gushing wildly between his fingers. Pointing at the yellow-clad man, he gasped and spat incomprehensibly through bloodied lips, his mangled tongue rendering his words unintelligible. After a few agonized, hopping spasms, he crashed heavily to the ground and passed out, unconscious.
The spectators, witnessing such a bizarre move, were all horrified.
Three attendants rushed forward, dragging him to a corner. One sharp-eyed attendant spotted the bitten-off half tongue and retrieved it. Though knowing it could never be reattached, desperation demanded trying. Quan Tianshou leaped over, sealed several acupoints beneath Lu Qinhu’s neck with his fingers, and poured a powdered white medicine into his mouth to stem the bleeding.
Amidst the flurry, the yellow-clad man fixed his gaze only upon Duan Wenbo.
Though young, Duan Wenbo recognized this foe sought trouble specifically with him. Escape was impossible; grit alone would serve. “Honored guest,” he stated firmly, “you arrive here, finding no discourtesy from us. In the Martial World (Jianghu), grievances are repaid with vengeance, kindness with gratitude. Yet you attack and maim upon arrival, demanding no explanation! Why?”
The yellow-clad man didn’t answer. He merely stretched out his hand and said coldly, “Hand it over…”
Duan Wenbo asked, “Hand what over?”
“The White Jade Cup,” replied the yellow-clad man. “Wasn’t a White Jade Cup among the congratulatory gifts you brought?”
Duan Wenbo jolted. “How could you possibly know that?”
“At the Yellow River Inn,” the yellow-clad man stated flatly, “you stayed in Humble Room Five. The Lu fellow stayed in Three. Quan Tianshou stayed in Earth Room Two. Correct?” Shocked, Duan Wenbo pointed at him, stammering, “You… you…!”
“I’ve inspected all three of the items you carried,” the yellow-clad man said. “Golden-Eyed Sparrow brought an ebony sword. Quan Tianshou brought a chest full of fine brushes, paper, ink, inkstones, plus one famous painting. If this old man lays eyes on treasures, do you think he’d let them fly away?”
Duan Wenbo retorted, “If you broke into our rooms, why not take it outright then?”
The yellow-clad man sneered. “Hmph! What do you take me for? Some sneaky thief? Understand this: When this old man wants something, he seizes it by force. No skulking, no thieving in the dark. That is true honor!” He paused, then added with emphasis, “There is honor among thieves…”
Before his final words faded, Quan Tianshou suddenly cried out involuntarily, “You are ‘Honor Among Thieves’ — the Yang Guan Thief?”
The utterance of those last seven words sent a ripple of gasps through the crowd. “Honor Among Thieves — the Yang Guan Thief” was evidently a name deeply feared and renowned.
Their reaction was no surprise. The Yang Guan Thief was a supreme solo-bandit currently prowling the Martial World (Jianghu). He cared not for women, indulged not in killing, avoided alcohol, and shunned meat. His sole obsession was gold, silver, gems, and precious artifacts. From gold and silver to pearls, jadeite, antiques, and rarities, anything that caught his eye must be seized by force. Rumor claimed his accumulated treasures towered like mountains—riches enough for one man, even for a hundred, to live lavishly for two lifetimes. Yet he remained unsatisfied, scouring the land north and south, perpetually seeking prey like a ravenous cat.
The Martial World (Jianghu) had long been tormented by him. Because he stole treasures without murder or harming women, his methods could even be considered somewhat forthright. Arrest him, and what crimes could truly be proven? Hence, even those injured by him hesitated to inflict a killing blow. Yet this straddling of boundaries meant neither the underworld accepted him as brethren, nor the righteous path embraced him. Thus “friends” or “brothers” were words forever exiled around the Yang Guan Thief. After over a decade in the trade, he remained eternally solitary.
Yet, any solo bandit surviving so long must possess shocking skill. How else to seize treasures and vanish unscathed? Hearing his name, everyone felt a chill, knowing the valuables they carried likely wouldn’t stay theirs past the clearing rain.
Duan Wenbo, however, remained young and brimming with hubris. Seeing the Yang Guan Thief dispatch Lu Qinhu with apparent ease, he presumed it had been mere bizarre luck, not necessarily profound martial mastery. If Duan Wenbo exercised caution, victory might be his. A win here would surely make his name resound through the Martial World (Jianghu), allowing him to boast mightily even before Master Zhuge.
Bolstered by this thought, his courage surged. “Bring my spear!” he commanded. A servant handed him a brocade pouch over three feet long, adorned intricately with entwined phoenix and dragon designs. With both hands gripping its edges, Duan Wenbo tore the pouch away, revealing three gleaming segments of spear shaft. With a decisive click-click-click, the parts joined together into a polished eight-foot silver-tipped steel spear.
Duan Wenbo shifted his stance slightly to the side, dragging the spear tip low on the ground behind him. His chest drawn in, his back straightened, his eyes fixed ahead — adopting the opening stance of the Hu Family Spears: “Guests from Afar.”
He announced coolly, “Draw your weapon.”
Even in the heat of impending conflict, he maintained propriety, his cultivation clearly exceeding Lu Qinhu’s brutish display.
But the Yang Guan Thief ignored him. He simply snorted dismissively, “Dealing with some yellow-mouthed whelp? Require weapons? Hmph! I judge your Hu Family Spears are barely sixty percent mastered. Land three blows against me… and this old man spares you all. I shall darken the roads of Gansu-Shaanxi no more.” He gestured dismissively. “Begin your attack.”
Knowing the Thief wouldn’t strike first, Duan Wenbo declared clearly, “By your leave!” He snapped his spear point upwards, weaving six flower-bowl-sized spear blooms that thrust straight at the Yang Guan Thief’s heart. Crimson tassels danced amidst a chaos of silver glints, masking the true killing point — a move from the Yue Family Spear Technique: “Unify the Six Realms” (‘Tongyi Liuhe’).
Using the Yue Family Spear instead of the Hu Family technique was deliberate, aimed at catching the foe off guard.
The Yang Guan Thief denied him even a direct glance, turning only his profile towards the young man, a frigid smirk still playing on his lips. As the six illusory spear points converged on his torso, he acted as if seeing nothing. His hand flicked out casually, conjuring six distinct palm phantoms simultaneously, each grasping for one of the onrushing spear points.
This maneuver baffled even the well-informed Quan Tianshou, who strained his eyes wider in disbelief.
But Fengchen recognized this technique. He recalled hearing Guangdu speak of a peculiar palm art originating beyond the northern frontiers — seemingly crafted solely to counter spears. Called “Thousand Hands Mad Demon Palm,” it specialized against long weapons like spears, staves, and halberds. Such weapons, once seized, became largely powerless. Some said it was created by northern barbarians to combat General Yue Fei’s famed “Yue Family Divine Spear” of the Southern Song dynasty. With the Yue Family Spears proliferating through the Central Plains, this palm technique also spread northwards. However, it was reserved fiercely for Barbarians — its secrets never taught to Han Chinese. How this Yang Guan Thief wielded it remained a chilling mystery.
Duan Wenbo was unaware that each stance of the Crazy Palm had been specifically created to counter the moves of the Yue Family Spear. “Unifying the Six Realms” was an exceptionally powerful move of the Yue Family Spear. Had Yue Fei himself executed it with full mastery, he could have effectively countered the Thousand-Hand Crazy Devil Palm. The Yue Family Spear Technique was an exceptionally sophisticated and comprehensive spear art. The martial traditions of the northern barbarians were inherently crude. While this palm technique was designed to counter the Yue Family Spear, its effectiveness varied depending on the opponent. If Yue Fei had faced the creator of this palm technique, they would have been equally matched, resulting at most in mutual deterrence. However, Duan Wenbo hadn’t even mastered sixty percent of the Yue Family Spear Technique, leaving him naturally outclassed.
Six palm shadows clawed towards the six spear points. There was a soft puh sound. The six spear points merged into one, and the six palm shadows also coalesced into one. The spear tip was now trapped within the center of the palm, completely immovable.
Duan Wenbo jerked back violently, unable to pull the spear free. He then thrust forward with all his might, but the spear remained fixed. The spearhead seemed cast into solid iron, utterly impossible to budge. Fear and rage surged within him, and he froze stiffly in place for a moment.
The Yang Guan Thief sneered. With a flick of his single arm, Duan Wenbo felt an immense force transmit through the spear. It numbed his Tiger’s Mouth point, forcing him to lose his grip entirely. With a whoosh, the silver spear was snatched away by his opponent. The Yang Guan Thief flicked his wrist. The spear flew shaft-first out through the open window into the pouring rain. It pierced straight through a tree trunk so thick it would take two men to encircle it, emerging from the other side. The red tassel on its head vibrated incessantly.
Everyone in the tavern was daunted by the Yang Guan Thief’s power. Duan Wenbo, though young, had trained with his spear since the age of six, accumulating twenty years of experience and considerable skill. If the argument that the Yang Guan Thief had defeated Lu Qinhu only through bizarre moves and thus couldn’t command respect held some water, then disarming Duan Wenbo of his silver spear in a single move was undeniable, genuine prowess – sheer skill without an ounce of trickery. Suddenly, the tavern fell utterly silent. Only Duan Wenbo’s heavy, ragged breathing could be heard.
The Yang Guan Thief shifted his gaze to Quan Tianshou’s face. Quan Tianshou had lived a long life, weathered many storms, and met countless people. Yet, the feeling of this man’s eyes fixed on his face was like sharp, freezing sand flung against his skin – piercingly cold and painful. An involuntary chill ran through his heart; he knew this situation wouldn’t end peacefully. If I lose too, our three factions might as well skip Jianxian Manor and head straight back to our hometowns, he thought grimly. It seems the others who arrived ahead of us must have also been robbed of their congratulatory gifts and were too ashamed to proceed. That explains the deserted roads. Had to resort to a dirty trick.
He fully understood that in the Jianghu, one’s “reputation” was paramount. Many were ruthless to protect their clan’s honor. Even if he used underhanded tactics to drive this man off or kill him, bound by their shared stake and potential disgrace, Lu Qinhu and Duan Wenbo wouldn’t utter a word; they would tightly keep the secret. As for that country bumpkin brother and sister, they didn’t seem like martial artists. There was no reason to fear they would spread rumours and tarnish the Fenghuang Clan’s prestige.
Thinking this, he plastered a smile on his face, cupped his fist and said, “Your prowess is truly astonishing, sir. Next, this Quan seeks to learn a few moves from you. What rules shall we set?” The Yang Guan Thief sneered, “As you like. Any way you want to fight.” Quan Tianshou said, “I wish to experience your palm strength, sir. Do you dare accept? Let us decide the outcome with three palm strikes, how about it?”
The Yang Guan Thief nodded woodenly. “The Fenghuang Clan boasts the ‘Double Ultimates: Darts and Palms’. Eighteen Phoenix-Tail Darts, thirty-six Overturning Heaven Palms? Humph. To me, worthless.” He didn’t move his body at all, remaining perfectly upright. He simply raised a single palm before his chest. Quan Tianshou concentrated his power in his palm and struck forward with a level thrust. Smack! Their palms met. The Yang Guan Thief didn’t budge an inch, while Quan Tianshou was forced a step back.
In contests of raw strength like this, the victor was clear without any trickery involved. After this single palm exchange, everyone present knew Quan Tianshou’s Internal Energy was inferior. Quan Zhongnian called out, “Father…” Quan Tianshou waved a hand, silencing his son. He gathered his strength into both palms, his eyes widening, his cheeks puffing out. He leaped forward, unleashing the second palm with a whoosh.
Seeing Quan Tianshou strike with both palms, the Yang Guan Thief also brought up both palms to meet them. Just as the four palms were about to connect, the Yang Guan Thief’s expression abruptly changed. In the split second of lightning flicker or flint striking, his open palms transformed into Eagle Claw shapes. Each claw drew half a circle in the air and clamped viciously onto Quan Tianshou’s wrists. Quan Tianshou’s face instantly turned ash gray.
Seeing that the Yang Guan Thief wasn’t striking palm-to-palm, the onlookers cried out in protest. Someone yelled, “No shame! Got guts? Then palm strike!”
Ignoring them, the Yang Guan Thief applied Sinew-Tearing Bone-Dislocating techniques. Crack! Crack! Quan Tianshou’s wrist bones were dislocated. A sharp twist followed. Quan Tianshou screamed in agony as excruciating pain, originating from his damaged joints, shot through his heart and spleen. Quan Zhongnian, his eyes red with rage, bellowed and lunged forward, kicking at the Yang Guan Thief. Without even glancing at him, the Yang Guan Thief kicked Quan Tianshou bodily away. Then, with a deft turn of his wrist, a pitch-black dart appeared between his fingertips.
This dart was uniquely shaped: a beak-like tip and a tail that fanned out like a phoenix spreading its plumage. It was none other than the Fenghuang Clan’s signature Hidden Weapon: the Phoenix-Tail Dart. No one had seen when or how he had acquired it.
Seeing the Phoenix-Tail Dart, Quan Zhongnian froze in shock. But he was already airborne, momentum unstoppable. Pain and numbness shot through his leg as he landed. The Phoenix-Tail Dart was embedded deep in his thigh. Quan Zhongnian’s stance collapsed. He sank to one knee on the floor, appearing to grovel before the Yang Guan Thief.
By now, everyone understood. Quan Tianshou’s proposal for a palm contest had been a ruse. Under the pretext of exchanging the second strike, he had intended to launch a poison-tipped dart concealed in his sleeve and cripple the Yang Guan Thief secretly. However, the Yang Guan Thief possessed extraordinarily keen eyesight and had detected the treachery. Quan Tianshou’s plan to harm another backfired on himself. His wrist joints were critically damaged; even if reset, they would never fully recover. He would never again be able to lift or grasp heavy objects.
The kick delivered by the Yang Guan Thief was formidable. Quan Tianshou flew over ten feet and crashed to the floor. There was a riiiip sound as he tore through the white cloth curtains enclosing a private booth and hurtled inside.
It seemed certain that inside the booth, soups would splash, bowls and plates shatter. Yet, the man seated farthest out in that booth, his back to the crowd, didn’t even stir. He merely raised his shoulder to intercept Quan Tianshou’s hurtling form. Quan Tianshou’s entire body was propelled straight upward. He crashed through the roof and was sent flying out.
Next came a resounding thump. The entire house shook violently. Clearly, Quan Tianshou had fallen back onto the roof. He was lighter, so he didn’t smash through the roof beams; instead, he lay sprawled awkwardly across them.
The disciples of the Fenghuang Clan panicked. Some rushed outside to rescue Quan Tianshou; others gathered around Quan Zhongnian, hurriedly applying their clan’s unique Antidote to his wound. One disciple, burdened with a large chest, was just about to rush out to help when the Yang Guan Thief flicked a chopstick at him, knocking him to the ground and sealing his pressure point. The Yang Guan Thief sneered, “Be sensible. Everyone else, place your belongings down. I may not kill people, but in this life of mine, I’m particularly fond of… cutting out tongues.”
The moment these words were spoken, no one else in the room dared to move a muscle, terrified of following in Lu Qinhu’s footsteps.
Having cowed the entire group, the Yang Guan Thief slowly turned around. His gaze fixed on the group of seven seated at the corner table. “Ah… so this place holds hidden masters after all…” he murmured slowly, walking towards the seven. The seven didn’t lift their heads, seeming entirely unaware of the events unfolding around them, engrossed in their food and drink.
An abrupt, deathly stillness filled the room. The only sound was the Yang Guan Thief’s slow, deliberate footsteps, pounding like heavy drums in everyone’s chest. Duan Wenbo had already discerned the extraordinary martial prowess of the seven. If the Yang Guan Thief challenged them, a fierce battle was almost certain.
The Yang Guan Thief was now less than five steps from the seven. Suddenly, he let out a clear, piercing whistle! In the same instant, he executed a swift backward leap. His fingers hooked like sharp blades, descending towards the crown of Ying Lian’s head!
This was a sudden, jarring shift. Everyone assumed he would engage the seven masters, yet he attacked Ying Lian instead! Gu Fengchen was also taken completely by surprise. Trying to rescue Ying Lian was impossible! Yet, proving himself worthy of being the Shaolin Temple’s second-generation disciple, his decisiveness prevailed. Calm amidst the crisis, he didn’t hesitate. His right hand shot out, fingers aimed like arrows at the vital “Zhangmen” acupoint beneath the Yang Guan Thief’s ribs – not defending directly, but attacking the enemy to force a retreat, a classic “besiege Wei to rescue Zhao” tactic.
The Yang Guan Thief uttered a sound of surprise, seeming genuinely astonished. His right claw suddenly retracted along an impossible trajectory, snatching Gu Fengchen’s striking fingers out of the air with lightning speed! Gu Fengchen, fearing his fingers would be snapped instantly, acted immediately. He deployed the “Single Phoenix Pierces the Ear” technique, swinging his left fist hard at the opponent’s temple, while simultaneously retracting his right hand fingers and bending his elbow sharply, driving it towards the enemy’s chest. The entire move was executed as swiftly as a lightning flash! If the Yang Guan Thief didn’t release his fingers, his temple and chest – critical pressure points – would inevitably be struck.
Predictably, the Yang Guan Thief’s left palm shot out to meet Gu Fengchen’s left fist. Boom! There was a resonant impact. Gu Fengchen, along with the stool beneath him, slid back three feet across the floor. The Yang Guan Thief was propelled backwards five feet, landing lightly.
These moves unfolded with the startling swiftness of a rabbit’s leap and hawk’s dive, rapid as a shooting star streak or a ghostly flicker. In the span of a lightning strike or flint spark, the two had employed finger strikes, claw grabs, palm strikes, and fist blows – four distinct hand techniques. There were attacks, rescues, and defenses: ferocious assaults, masterful counter-moves, and steadfast blocks. On the surface, they seemed evenly matched. However, one fought lightly from the air, flowing effortlessly, while the other, anchored to the ground, exerted his utmost. By comparison, the Yang Guan Thief was clearly significantly more skilled.
Gu Fengchen raised a palm level with his chest. “You call yourself an expert? Yet you stoop to sneak-attacking a child? Have you no shame?” he demanded coldly.
The Yang Guan Thief replied frostily, “You use the Shaolin Sect Internal Energy… somewhat competent. But you are still not my opponent.” Their earlier fist-palm collision had already let him gauge Gu Fengchen’s power. His Internal Energy wasn’t supremely powerful, but it was exceptionally pure, upright, and potent. In the present age, only the Shaolin Sect produced such Internal Energy.
Gu Fengchen snorted coldly. “This Gu has trained a few years, it’s true. But my Internal Energy, my ability to rob people of their wealth, and my skill at ambushing and maiming others – all fall far short of your accomplishments, sir.” The Yang Guan Thief showed no anger, merely letting out another cold laugh. “Oh? Then, according to you, your other abilities surpass mine? Do tell. What are they?”
Gu Fengchen knew his opponent was challenging him, but he didn’t want any more trouble. He swallowed his anger and cupped his hands respectfully. “My sister and I are traveling to seek family, not to celebrate any birthday. We’re so poor we only have a few copper coins left, which surely wouldn’t interest you…”
He said this to show submission. Had it been anyone else, they might have cursed him a coward and left him alone. But the Yang Guan Thief was the sort to persist in wrongdoing, coupled with a habit of prying and stealing. True to his nature as a thief, he’d already locked onto the bundle by Ying Lian’s side. If he didn’t get a look at it, he’d be unable to sleep for days.
The Yang Guan Thief shot him a glance. “Good that you admit defeat. I won’t trouble you. Just show me the bundle.” Gu Fengchen glanced at Ying Lian. She clutched her bundle, shaking her head firmly. I haven’t even looked at the painting inside myself, she thought, let alone allow others to see it. Grandfather explicitly told me.
Gu Fengchen saw her expression and knew things were about to go badly. While he was still thinking, the Yang Guan Thief gave a cold laugh and stepped forward.
Gu Fengchen knew he intended to strike Lian’er. A surge of righteous indignation rose within him. He lifted his hand and called out, “Wait! I challenge you to a duel. What if I win?”
The Yang Guan Thief stood just five feet away. “I don’t think it’s necessary,” he sneered. “You’re no match for me. Trying won’t get you anywhere. But if you somehow win… I not only won’t take your bundle, but I’ll vanish from these roads forever.” Gu Fengchen steadied himself, thinking secretly: If that’s the case, then he’ll see my skill. But his martial power is an enigma… I must choose the contest wisely…
Seeing him silent, the Yang Guan Thief mistook it for fear. “Better step aside…” Gu Fengchen looked outside. The rain had stopped unnoticed. A gap in the crimson clouds revealed half of a fiery red sun. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting everyone’s shadows onto the floor. Watching the shadows, his brow suddenly lifted, and he sneered, “Since we compete, I set the rules, yes?” The Yang Guan Thief said arrogantly, “Of course! Would this gentleman bully a child? Name your contest. As long as it’s martial skill, I accept.”
Gu Fengchen declared loudly, “I am a nobody in the martial world. Once, I was a lay disciple at Shaolin Temple for a short while. My skill is crude, barely enough to spar with you. Any victory would be sheer luck. I just ask everyone present to witness, so none can renege…” They’d all seen the Yang Guan Thief’s prowess and felt the young man was boasting. Only a few murmured assent.
A green-clad beauty among the seven laughed playfully, “Fine! I’ll be your witness. Anyone who loses and refuses to admit it, I’ll whip their backside with my riding crop.”
The Yang Guan Thief snapped impatiently, “Enough talk! What’s the contest?” Gu Fengchen looked at the setting sun and announced, “I challenge you to facing the wall. Dare you accept?” The Yang Guan Thief laughed angrily. “You take me for a three-year-old? Don’t talk about facing the wall! If I even closed my eyes, these fellows would snatch the treasure and flee…”
Gu Fengchen scoffed mockingly, “The petty mind is always laughable. You think everyone here values treasure like you? They guard their reputation jealously. Rest assured, they’d rather die than flee.”
The Yang Guan Thief snorted. “But facing the wall isn’t martial skill. We could sit there three years! How would we determine a winner?” Gu Fengchen explained, “We’ll see who, without moving hand, foot, or body, can embed their shadow into the wall first. The one who does it first wins.” The Yang Guan Thief replied, “That simple? Come on then…”
So both sat cross-legged beneath the north wall, Gu Fengchen to the Yang Guan Thief’s left. He assumed a meditative pose, but his eyes flicked towards the sunlight streaming through the rear window.
Silence fell like a tomb. Heartbeats echoed loudly. The Mysterious Seven stopped eating and drinking, watching the ‘Facing the Wall’ contest with keen interest. The Jianghu realm held many strange things, but such a duel was unheard of. Embedding a shadow meant using powerful, invisible Internal Energy to crush the earth wall – not uncommon for masters of deep Internal Energy. Yet all present knew Gu Fengchen’s Internal Energy seemed far weaker than the Yang Guan Thief’s.
Indeed, scarcely half the time needed to drink a cup of tea had passed before a human-shaped indentation began forming in the wall facing the Yang Guan Thief. Gu Fengchen’s wall, contrastingly, remained unchanged. It seemed Gu Fengchen faced a resounding defeat.
A sudden roar erupted! The Yang Guan Thief gathered his Internal Energy and unleashed it explosively! With a loud crash, a perfectly human-shaped hole appeared in the wall he faced. Cool, fresh air rushed in, refreshing everyone, but a dreadful realization dawned immediately.
The legendary goal was ‘Face the wall three years to gain enlightenment (break through)’. Now the Yang Guan Thief’s wall was broken. Gu Fengchen had lost.
The Yang Guan Thief smiled coldly. “Now what?” Gu Fengchen burst out laughing. “You lose!” Infuriated, the Yang Guan Thief yelled, “You dare renege…?!” Gu Fengchen pointed at the wall. “What exactly did we agree upon before the duel?” The Yang Guan Thief retorted, “Whose shadow embedded first, wins! Now…” His eyes followed the pointing finger to the wall. His jaw dropped. He couldn’t utter a word.
For in that short span of time, the shadows had quietly shifted. Gu Fengchen sat to the left. As the sun sank lower in the west, their shadows cast on the north wall moved accordingly. Gu Fengchen’s shadow had now drifted entirely into the newly blasted hole. The Yang Guan Thief’s shadow, however, was positioned to the side, still resting firmly upon solid, unbroken grey wall.
Gu Fengchen declared, “My shadow is embedded in the wall. Where is yours?”
Lian’er jumped and laughed triumphantly nearby. The Yang Guan Thief was so furious smoke seemed about to puff from his ears. He’d poured all his energy, only to pave the way for others and dig his own grave. His opponent hadn’t lifted a finger and won effortlessly. Enraged, he cried, “You schemed…!” Gu Fengchen shouted back, “A true man wins and loses with grace! You call it a scheme? I haven’t moved a finger! Now leave! Remember your promise: never show your face on this road again.”
The Yang Guan Thief nodded slowly, veins bulging fiercely on his forehead, evidence of towering, impotent fury. He stared at Gu Fengchen, applauding slowly. “Well done… well done…” Still clapping, he rose and shuffled backward… suddenly twisted his body with blinding speed and appeared beside Ying Lian! One foot stamped harshly upon hers!
Though he hadn’t used full force, Ying Lian cried out in pain. Her foot bones nearly snapped. She hopped on the spot, grasping her injured foot. Gu Fengchen roared, “What are you doing?!” Before he could intervene, the Yang Guan Thief flicked his other leg. A bright blade tip shot out from his boot toe, slashing upwards towards Ying Lian’s back.
With a loud rip!, the bundle on her back tore open. Its contents spilled onto the floor.
Gu Fengchen had no time to snatch anything. He lunged, sweeping Ying Lian away, roaring, “Deceiver! Shameless!” The Yang Guan Thief replied with a cold smirk. “I only said ‘no hands’ if I lost. I said nothing about using my feet.”
He began kicking the scattered items apart, inspecting them with his boot. Only the scroll painting held his interest. With the knife tip at his toe, he severed the cord around the scroll, then kicked it sharply upwards towards the ceiling. The scroll unfurled with a crackle. Gu Fengchen leaped desperately to grab it! Incredibly fast, the Yang Guan Thief spun back, unleashing four powerful kicks aimed at Gu Fengchen’s critical points.
Gu Fengchen could only block frantically. There was no way to reach the painting now!
At that very instant, a sudden dark blur—ghost-like—swooped in! A black-gloved hand snatched the unfurling scroll! The Yang Guan Thief, shocked, whirled around. The thief was the figure shrouded in black veil, one of the Mysterious Seven! The person studied the portrait intently. Even through the black veil, the hands gripping the scroll were clearly slender, elongated female fingers.
Astonishment warred within the Yang Guan Thief. I’ve traveled the Jianghu for years, yet I’ve never seen such a movement… unbelievably fast! His eyes flickered; instantly he charged, thrusting a palm towards her! The palm seemed soft, almost weightless, barely carrying any visible force… yet the hem of the black-robed woman’s clothing began furiously fluttering, stirred by its unseen power!
Gu Fengchen recognized it—Wu Yi Sect’s ultimate art: “Dragon Swimming Palm”. Named for the dragon, this palm technique hid four deadly transformations into “dragon claw force”, capable of shredding its target mid-movement in the blink of an eye.
He saw it clearly: If the black-robed woman lifted her hand to block… the instant the Yang Guan Thief changed palm to claw… the dragon claw force would tear the painting into shreds! A wail of despair tore through the air; it was Lian’er. Gu Fengchen inwardly cursed his luck, almost unable to bear looking at Lian’er’s horrified face.
Yet the black-robed woman remained motionless, utterly absorbed in viewing the painting. As the Yang Guan Thief’s lethal palm closed in… another figure flashed forward! A massive leather cap was raised like a shield against the incoming strike! The Yang Guan Thief had roamed the world and seen much, but never a cap used as a weapon. This cap was absurdly large, ample enough for two heads. Nothing else seemed special about it.
Thupp! A dull sound echoed as the palm strike landed solidly on the cap. Yet, the Yang Guan Thief felt as if his immense strength had vanished harmlessly into empty air! The center of the cap rippled violently like waves, concentric circles expanding furiously outwards. The brim shuddered violently several times… then smoothed out perfectly, unharmed.
The Yang Guan Thief lifted his gaze to see a man calmly replacing the cap onto his head. Judging by the cap alone, most would expect a giant-headed man beneath. Seeing its wearer, however, jaws dropped. The man’s head was scarcely larger than a normal man’s fist! His features all crowded together, yet perfectly distinct – truly, “small as a sparrow, complete with gall bladder”. Nature’s creations were indeed mysterious beyond comprehension.
Once the enormous cap settled, it swallowed not only his tiny head but also his neck entirely. The sight of two shoulders propping up a giant cap was utterly ludicrous. But the Yang Guan Thief only stared, utterly wary. “What weapon is this?” The small-headed man giggled. “Come and find out! Beat me, and I’ll tell you.” His voice sounded muffled from within the cap.
The Yang Guan Thief snarled. “I’ll test it then!” He suddenly crouched low and dashed forward, fists exploding like furious hailstones! It seemed he’d sprouted seven or eight extra arms!
The onlookers gasped internally. Luckily he never used this against me earlier. If one barrage like that connected… I’d be pulp!
Unbelievably, the small-headed man stood motionless as if brushing away a soft breeze and gathering morning dew. Both hands waved casually, deflecting the furious onslaught effortlessly.
The Yang Guan Thief roared! One fist shot straight from his core! Imbued with his entire strength! The small-headed man giggled, extending his own right fist directly to meet it.
His hands had previously been hidden in his sleeves. When his fist emerged, the onlookers gasped in astonishment. It was enormous! Easily twice the size of a normal man’s fist—perhaps even larger than his own tiny head!
BANG! Fists collided! A shockwave of force radiated outwards, shaking the rafters and dusting the patrons below.
The Yang Guan Thief’s body flew backward as if slammed by an ocean wave! Only his exceptional lightness skill prevented his back from smashing violently into the wall. Even so, when he finally regained balance, his spine was less than two inches from the bricks.
The small-headed man hadn’t moved an inch. His colossal fist remained extended. Gu Fengchen looked closer, noting the fist’s skin seemed inhuman, like the smooth, silver-white belly of a great fish.
Steadying himself, the Yang Guan Thief glared at the small-headed man, his eyes bulging like those of a dead fish, silent rage boiling within. He slashed several quick characters in the air with his fingers. Gu Fengchen saw clearly: “How much power did you use?” The small-headed man, unable to see, remained silent. The green-gowned beauty interjected, “He used just forty percent…”
Forty percent! That’s all it took to utterly disperse the Lone Wild Bandit’s full-force strike… and leave him injured.
The Yang Guan Thief nodded slowly. Then, suddenly flipping, he leapt out the window without a backward glance, vanishing into the landscape.