Chapter Thirty-Seven: An Eye for an Eye

“There are many people in this world before whom I am helpless. For example, if you wished to deal with me, I could do nothing to resist,” Bai Yufei said, taking a sip of the Green Ant Wine. The sweetness lingered as the delicate flavor of the wine curled around his tongue.

He smiled. “So this is rice wine. I wonder from which old spring the water was drawn.”

“It’s just a mountain spring, nothing special. Don’t change the subject, Brother Bai. Who hurt you?” Shen Lian idly rotated his wine cup. Not a single drop of the freshly brewed Green Ant Wine spilled as it circled within.

“My martial skills are lacking, though as you said, my blade work is acceptable and I have some talent for light footwork. Since earning the moniker ‘Saint of Thieves,’ I’ve never been particularly proud—after all, there’s always someone better, and more unknown masters than I can count. But fame is a burden. When Sword Manor lost their ‘Forgetting Dust Incense,’ they accused me of stealing it. I was pursued by their sword slaves all the way from Yan Province to Qing Province. Later, even the young master of Sword Manor arrived. I never even saw his face clearly—lost my blade, was struck by his exclusive hidden weapon, nearly lost my life. Hearing the rumors of your unmatched martial arts and extraordinary medical skill, and with me already in Qing Province, I had no choice but to seek refuge here with you, hoping you’d take me in.”

“Whoever enters the martial world must be prepared for life and death,” Shen Lian replied slowly. “Now you come here—are you not afraid I’ll turn you away, leave you to your fate?”

“At the end of the road, one can’t think too much. Fortunately, you don’t seem to be that kind of person.” Bai Yufei’s heart still trembled with lingering fear—this disaster had truly been the most perilous of his life.

In truth, he was not confident Shen Lian would save him. In the martial world, not only is it common to watch others die, but to take advantage of the desperate is even more so.

“A favor for a favor. If I save you, your life is mine. Do you agree? If not, you may leave now. Of course, the price of your life must be repaid someday.” Shen Lian was no villain, but he was not given to charity. He believed one should never forget a favor received, but did not consider it a virtue.

True selflessness is rare in this world; most who give expect something in return, and thus the cycle of fate is maintained.

Bai Yufei gave a wry smile. “I am alone in this world. If you find me useful, my life is yours.”

“Then stay and work as a runner in the inn. Your wages will be the same as the others—room and board, but not wine. With your constitution, you should be able to handle some labor now. Start tomorrow.”

“Only now am I certain—you really are the innkeeper,” Bai Yufei laughed. At this point, he cared nothing for money, nor for fine wine. What truly interested him was Shen Lian himself.

Of all human connections, none is rarer than a meeting of the hearts. Though the two had not yet reached such intimacy, neither were they mired in petty schemes.

After Bai Yufei left, Shen Lian slowly opened the window. This was the highest floor; from here, he could see the green mountains outside the city, now dusted white at the peaks. The bright moon hung at the zenith. Unknowingly, he realized he had been in this world for nearly three years.

He had left no mark on Bai Yufei—not because he trusted him as a man of his word, but because he simply did not care whether Bai Yufei might betray him.

In life, people come and go in great numbers. Even if one misjudges a few, what of it?

It was the matter of what gift to give Xin Fourteenth Lady that truly required thought. Since she was not of the common sort, she would not care for worldly trinkets. To meet an extraordinary person, one must present an extraordinary thing—otherwise, what intrigue is there in such an encounter?

Moonlight stretched across the snow, turning the roads white, scarcely less bright than daytime.

Upon the snow lay a long shadow—on closer inspection, it was a sedan chair. The chair was pale blue, carried front and back by two young men in blue close-fitting garb. Though they were not old, their lightness of foot was impressive.

Their footprints in the snow were of even depth. Each time, the bearers leapt together and landed together, covering five or six zhang in a bound.

In less than a quarter hour, they had covered ten li.

Suddenly, the sedan came to a halt at the foot of Mount Jialan. Beyond this mountain lay Qingzhou City.

“Young Master, this is Mount Jialan, where Ling Chongxiao slew Yang Xuan. There’s but one road up and one down. To go around would mean a long detour,” the front bearer said in a ringing voice like metal striking stone.

He stood ramrod straight, a blue steel sword at his waist. In this snowy night, neither he nor the rear bearer showed the least sign of shivering.

“Ling Chongxiao is said to have nearly achieved enlightenment; his junior, Yang Xuan, was also a peerless master, bold enough to offend the Khan of Mobei. Ling Chongxiao could slay Yang Xuan, yet I cannot even kill Bai Yufei. It seems I will only surpass him once I enter the immortal gate—though by then, Ling Chongxiao will no longer matter to me,” said the man within the sedan, a deep loneliness threading through his words.

“That Bai Yufei’s skills are not high, but his agility is heaven-sent. If you failed to kill him, it was not for lack of strength. At your age, Ling Chongxiao was certainly no match for you. Besides, you will one day seek immortality and surpass him by far,” said the front bearer, Sword Thirteen.

“Sword Thirteen, you have a way with words. Sword Fourteen, what do you think of what he said?” the young master asked, making it clear Sword Thirteen was in front, Sword Fourteen behind.

“I don’t know,” came the reply, as if squeezed from stone. With those three words, he seemed to have exhausted his daily allotment of speech and refused to say more.

“Sword Fourteen, you’re always so taciturn—no wonder you can’t find a wife,” the passenger in the sedan teased, evidently amused by his two attendants.

“Are we to ascend the mountain tonight and enter the city tomorrow?”

“We’ll rest on the mountain tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll retrieve that item from the Green Bamboo Society and settle the matter with Bai Yufei.”

“The Green Bamboo Society is nothing in Qingzhou, but that young master of the Shen family, Shen Lian—though still young, is said to be formidable. His skills come from Yang Xuan, but he’s already surpassed his teacher. Should you meet this youthful prodigy?”

“I’ve heard of Shen Lian—famed for his bearing and presence, said to make all who meet him forget the mundane. Since I am here, how could I not meet him?” The young master gave a light laugh.

The mountain path was steep and slick, yet Sword Thirteen and Sword Fourteen bore the sedan as if walking on level ground.

Before long, they came upon a temple—Jialan Monastery.

The stone steps were blanketed in fine white snow, moonlight gleaming upon them, a sight to savor.

Inside, a lamp flickered faintly, a single green flame in the ancient temple’s depths.

“Young Master, it seems someone is within. Sword Thirteen, go in and have a look. Sword Fourteen, remain here.”

Sword Fourteen grunted assent; the young master had no objection.

Sword Thirteen stepped along the snow-covered stone steps into the ancient temple, where he saw a beautiful woman in a red silk scarf emerge.

It was Xin Fourteenth Lady.

“Are you seeking shelter for the night? You may use the rear courtyard,” she said.

“We are indeed seeking lodging. Thank you, miss,” Sword Thirteen replied courteously, noting from the corner of his eye that as Xin Fourteenth Lady walked out from the main hall, she left not a single footprint in the snow.