The Furnace-Listening Pavilion’s convoy traveled in silence for another two shichen.
The official road emerged from the gorge between the flanking mountains, stretching into an expanse of rolling hills.
“Mount Danyue.”
The boy inside the carriage poked his head out again without anyone noticing when, squinting to make out the writing on the boundary stone.
“Grandpa Qi, what kind of place is Mount Danyue?”
“The territory of the Azure Dragon Sect.”
“Azure Dragon Sect?”
Hearing this, the boy’s eyes instantly lit up.
“I heard the Azure Dragon Sect’s old sect master was a great hero. Thirty years ago during the war between the two dynasties, he led three hundred disciples to hold off three thousand Grand Shuo iron cavalry at Fengming Pass for seven whole days. Fewer than fifty survived in the end. The old sect master threw his own life away there, too...”
The old man surnamed Qi fell silent for a moment.
Then he gathered the saber resting across his knees closer to his chest.
The sleeve of his gray cloth robe slid down, revealing once more the old scar stretching from his wrist bone deep under his sleeve.
“Indeed. Old Sect Master Duan Ce was truly a real man.”
Hearing this, the boy bounced up from inside the carriage and leaned against the window frame, his eyes shining.
“You knew him?”
“Hardly known to me.”
The old man surnamed Qi shook his head.
“When Duan Ce was still alive, he once had someone come to our Furnace-Listening Pavilion to forge a saber. It wasn’t some divine weapon, just an ordinary saber of refined steel, and we forged it for him at half price. After receiving the saber, the old sect master wrote a personal letter of thanks, his words exceedingly courteous. Later on, whenever holidays and festivals came around, the Azure Dragon Sect would always send people to deliver some local goods. They weren’t worth much, but the courtesy was impeccable. Consider it a good bond formed between us.”
He paused, his gaze drifting toward the flickering lights halfway up Mount Danyue in the distance, a trace of emotion seeping into his tone.
“This old man has been in seclusion for many years, and I hear that even the Azure Dragon Sect has now attached itself to the imperial court just to survive. Alas, today’s martial world is far less interesting than back in our day. Who is the Azure Dragon Sect’s sect master now?”
“In response to Elder Qi, it is Duan Tianhong,” the Staff Grandmaster respectfully replied.
“Duan Tianhong? The adopted son Duan Ce took in?”
The old man surnamed Qi repeated the name.
“Is someone like him even worthy of sitting in the sect master’s seat?”
“Grandpa Qi, isn’t he the old sect master’s adopted son? That should make him a descendant of a prominent figure. Why does it sound like you don’t like him at all?” the young boy A-Tong chimed in.
Hearing this, the Staff Grandmaster let out a cold sneer.
“Descendant of a prominent figure? A-Tong, do you know how he attained the position of sect master?”
The boy shook his head.
“He slipped Energy-Dissipating Powder into the successor sect master’s tea for three straight months. Seizing the moment when the man’s internal energy had completely drained away, he struck from behind and shattered his skull. Then he brought the successor sect master’s severed head to the imperial court as a pledge of allegiance, trading it for the court’s protection.”
“How... how could he dare do such a thing... Isn’t he afraid of facing the old sect master’s spirit in heaven?”
“Spirit in heaven?”
The Staff Grandmaster shook his head.
“If Duan Tianhong harbored even the slightest reverence for the old sect master, he would never have done something like this. The old sect master was unyielding his entire life, leaving behind eight words on his deathbed: ‘Better to take through straight paths than seek through crooked ways.’ Duan Tianhong, on the other hand, did the complete opposite.”
The old man surnamed Qi remained silent for a long time after listening to the Staff Grandmaster’s words.
Not much emotion showed on his deeply wrinkled face, yet thick veins bulged across the back of the hand gripping the saber, his knuckles turning white.
After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice several degrees deeper than before.
“Duan Tianhong. This old man remembers him. His talent was mediocre, his nature cowardly. Duan Ce was such a heroic figure; it is a pity he was blind just that once, taking this person in as an adopted son. Duan Ce taught him for over twenty years, yet failed to teach him what backbone means.”
He gave the carriage floorboard a gentle tap with his scabbard, producing an extremely low, dull thud.
“With such trash as sect master, he is indeed capable of taking advantage of someone in trouble. Everyone, stay alert. If the Azure Dragon Sect truly has laid an ambush ahead, there is no need to hold back. Slaying such scum who dared kill his own sect master can be considered cleaning up the sect on Duan Ce’s behalf.”
Hearing this, the eight martial artists in martial attire responded in unison. Their weapons slid three cun from their scabbards, their cold gleams flashing and vanishing in the twilight.
The convoy continued forward, carriage wheels rolling over bluestone slabs, the rumbling echoing through the valley.
The eight martial artists’ gazes were even more vigilant than before.
Even the sturdy Hexi horses pulling the wagons seemed to sense the change in atmosphere, their snorts turning heavy and rapid.
Yet the convoy traveled along the mountain path of Mount Danyue for nearly a shichen.
Still, there was no movement whatsoever in the dense forests on either side.
Leave alone people from the Azure Dragon Sect, not even a single hare darted out.
“Could it be that this Duan Tianhong had a sudden change of heart? He still hasn’t shown up,” the Staff Grandmaster could not help speaking up.
The old man surnamed Qi said nothing, merely narrowing his eyes as he looked ahead.
The official road made a sharp turn ahead.
Beyond the bend stood a naturally formed stone gate.
Flanked by sheer precipices on both sides, there was only a narrow passage through the middle.
The top of the stone gate was covered in moss and gnarled old pines.
When the mountain wind whistled through the fissures of the stone gate, it gave off a weeping, mournful shriek.
By all logic, this terrain—where one man could hold the pass against ten thousand—was the ideal spot for an ambush.
“We will know once we reach that stone gate.”
The convoy slowly rolled around the bend.
The stone gate came into view.
Sure enough, a person stood before the stone gate.
That person leaned against the trunk of a crooked jujube tree, carrying a red-tasseled spear across his shoulder, yawning.
“You’re traveling a bit too slowly. I’ve been waiting here for nearly two shichen.”
The old man surnamed Qi raised his hand slightly, and the eight martial artists in martial attire reined in their horses simultaneously.
The convoy halted thirty paces away from the young man.
The old man surnamed Qi narrowed his eyes, sizing up the young man before him.
In his early twenties, tall and lean, broad-shouldered with a narrow waist, his sharply chiseled face bore both the swagger characteristic of youth and the composure found only in seasoned wanderers of the martial world.
These two completely distinct temperaments appeared upon a single face, yet somehow felt entirely harmonious.
The spear resting on his shoulder was pitch-black throughout, a faint black mist churning along its shaft, while a few drops of wet blood still clung to the spearhead.
The old man surnamed Qi’s gaze lingered on that spear for a moment, his pupils contracting slightly.
He had lived for seventy years and seen countless weapons, yet few could make him feel on guard.
The black mist coiling around the spear was not heavy, yet it exuded a dangerous aura that even he could not quite describe.
What made him even more suspicious was the young man’s breathing.
His breathing was long and even; though clearly only at the Second Rank Mountain-Viewing Realm, he gave off the feeling of being completely one with the entire valley.
When the mountain wind blew past him, even the fluttering of his robes carried an indescribable rhythm.
“Young man.”
The old man surnamed Qi spoke slowly, his voice not loud, yet carrying clearly to the ears of everyone in the valley.
“State your name.”
“Chen Zui.”
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