“…’Golden-Eyed Thousand Feathers,’ worthy of the name. It’s been so many years… still as fast on your feet as ever.”
The hour of the Snake was already past its midpoint, and the sunlight that fell was not especially strong. Below Jiuxian Mountain, near the road by Heyun Pool, Tie Tianying looked toward the gray-robed figure in the small teahouse, his expression carrying a hint of nostalgia, even a flicker of genuine delight.
Since this meeting had been prearranged, the simple teahouse had no proprietor in sight. The gray-robed man pulled down the mask that had done little to conceal him, revealing a beard mixed with black and white, and a face that did not look particularly old.
“Golden-Eyed Thousand Feathers”—this was the title the underworld had given him, meaning three things: first, that his perception was sharp and his gaze piercing as fire; second, that his methods were varied and his schemes numerous; third, that it praised his exceptional lightness-skill. Among the constables of that era, he had been somewhat younger than Tie Tianying, but he too was now past fifty.
“Getting old. Even running is hard now.” He said.
“I knew it—this time they’d bring in one of our own.” Tie Tianying walked slowly over, smiling. “I suspected you… Brother Fan, whose errand are you running today?”
“Take a man’s silver, ease a man’s troubles—let’s not ask.” Fan Zhong lifted the teapot from the table and poured tea for them both.
Tie Tianying sat down at the table. “Then, Brother Fan, come over to our side. Now’s a good time—a sagely emperor sits the throne…”
Fan Zhong waved a hand.
“Brother Tie, can you guess what I’m planning today?”
“Roughly.”
“But you still came.”
“I’ve got a signal flare tucked in my sleeve—one shot and the city’s soldiers and constables will be here in an instant. I’ve seen the arrangements you’ve made around here; in a flash they wouldn’t take a life, but with me watching, slipping into Jiuxian Mountain won’t be easy for you either. I’ll take the risk.” Tie Tianying said with a smile, speaking freely, then paused. “Besides, I’m getting on in years. These days, with the world the way it is, running into old colleagues doesn’t come easy—the old man wanted to catch up a little, too.”
Fan Zhong nodded, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.
“I remember, Brother Tie used a sword back then.”
“When I was young, I trained with a blade.” Tie Tianying said. “Later, when I became Chief Constable of the Liufa Gate, I felt my status called for something more refined, and I started using a sword. That was a fine sword, Juque, a treasured blade—these days no one bothers with such things anymore…”
“Heh heh.” Fan Zhong shook his head, laughing. “Back then, you and I both thought that once a martial man reached Chief Constable of the Ministry of Justice, going any higher was next to impossible. I wasn’t content with that back then, wanted to rise further, cultivated a close relationship with the Zuo family—who’d have thought, Zuo Jilan turned out to be all show and no substance, and Zuo Houwen… useless, called himself a great scholar for nothing. As for Zuo Duanyou, one fit of temper and he was gone without even managing to spit out a word. But you—who’d have thought, that trip to the northwest let you latch onto Li Pin’s coattails, and now… you’ve become the most distinguished among us all.”
“…Times are different now.” Tie Tianying thought for a moment, shaking his head. “Still the same thing I’ve always said—martial men weren’t valued back then, but it’s not like that now. Come over, and in the future, building merit and establishing a career, there’s no difference for you than for the founding meritorious officials.”
“How powerful was the Wu dynasty back then—vast territory, a hundred million subjects. Now you’re stuck in this little corner of the southeast, can’t even win against a few local gentry, and you dare speak of enduring glory for generations?”
“His Majesty is working diligently to govern well, determined to clear out the old corruption and rebuild from the bones outward—that’s why there’s this period of weakness. Right now is the time for accumulating a foundation. Whether you come over to serve or throw in your lot with us, anyone who joins in now, when they build their achievements in the future, will be no different from a founding meritorious minister. Brother Fan, to put it another way, His Majesty isn’t without other choices—he has plenty, yet he chose the hardest path. You and I have licked blood off blades and fought half our lives—how could we not know that this is the most extraordinary kind of resolve in this world?” Tie Tianying said. “You and I have sought fame and rank for half a lifetime; coming over now is exactly the right time.”
The sunlight slanted down; along the dirt road beside the teahouse, a traveler leading an ox walked past, turning his head to look at the two men seated at the wooden table. Fan Zhong fell silent for a moment.
“A year ago, Chen Lianyi came to see you, and you had his head cut off.”
“Times are different now—it means a person can be a good person, an official can be a good official, and in the future can build a worthy career because of it. Chen Lianyi used my name to extort silver and abused women besides—naturally I had to kill him to set an example. Brother Fan, back then you had great ambitions in your heart—I remember you weren’t like Zong Feixiao.”
Fan Zhong laughed, poured himself tea, took a sip, and laughed for quite a while. When he spoke again, his voice had grown somewhat lower.
“…Back then… back then in the northwest, the assassination attempt on Ning Yi—the last time you and I met—you escorted Li Pin south, and that’s how you earned the honors you have today. Do you know how I’ve spent these years since?”
“…”
“The disgrace of the Jingping era, and then the sweeping of the mountains and searching of the seas that followed—the Central Plains had already fallen into chaos beyond repair. I had martial skill but was no longer with the Liufa Gate, so I lived free and unfettered, quite at ease… Brother Tie, what’s wrong with living the way Zong Feixiao did? Did I train in martial arts for forty years just to end up a wretch scraping by? I won’t hide it from you—once I got my thinking straight, I’ve had a fair number of good years since. Later, in Jiangnan, I did rather well for myself too… Now I’ve got children scattered about, wives and concubines aplenty… I just can’t come over to your side anymore. Do you still have more to say, Brother Tie?”
“So that’s how it is.” Tie Tianying laughed. “Before I opened my mouth, I had already prepared myself, already thought of this.”
“Then why bother saying so much?”
“I told you—when a person gets old, sometimes he just wants to reminisce with someone.” Tie Tianying looked up at him. “Fan Zhong, you and I were never particularly good friends back at the Liufa Gate, and now we’re even more like strangers grown old together. Do you think I’m truly curious about your thoughts these past years? I’m not. It’s that you knew me when I was young, and I wanted to tell you this: Fan Zhong, you should know that whether in standing or in character, today’s Tie Tianying far surpasses all of you… This is my own vanity in my heart, and today, I’m saying it to you dead men.”
Under the teahouse canopy, Fan Zhong burst into loud laughter. Tie Tianying laughed too. The two of them, from their prime years onward, had cooperated and partnered countless times, had witnessed thirty or forty years of upheaval across the Wu dynasty—from the assassination of Liu Dabiao, to the Yongle Uprising, from the struggle against the Manichaean sect, to the schemes and power struggles among the great clans, and later to Ning Yi’s regicide and the four southward invasions of the Jurchen that brought the world crashing down. By this moment, both had gone gray-haired, and though their positions were now entirely opposed, in their laughter there was, after all, the imprint of decades of shared time.
Fan Zhong swept up a wave of hot tea from the table with a gesture; Tie Tianying flung his wide sleeve out, sending teapot, cups, and water flying skyward. Beneath Fan Zhong, his steps seemed to sink into the earth; both fists dropped low, his gray robe billowing like the rolling of ocean waves, and he threw a punch straight at Tie Tianying opposite him. The table between them shattered to pieces, flying everywhere in a chaotic scatter, and Tie Tianying was already on his feet. He drew his blade and slashed in fury.
What rose into the air was not only the wooden fragments of the table—the instant the punch was thrown, on Fan Zhong’s side, an iron fan burst out following the momentum of the fist, while his other hand also swept the small charcoal stove beside the table, sending a sky full of burning coals flying toward Tie Tianying. His nickname was “Golden-Eyed Thousand Feathers”—precisely one whose schemes were many and methods varied, and with that first splash of tea, everything within reach in that instant surged toward Tie Tianying like a churning tide. Tie Tianying’s frame swelled with the motion of rising to his feet, growing as though he had become a giant; the long blade in his hand swept across the sky, and in the blink of an eye, he had already cut five simple slashes, the blade’s aura roaring like ocean waves.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang—
The iron fan in Fan Zhong’s hand unfolded for an instant, spinning in the air like a great umbrella, then quickly closed again. Under Tie Tianying’s flashing blade, the tables and chairs surging toward him shattered, the burning coals exploded apart, and the onlookers not far off could only stare, dumbstruck.
More people were already charging out from the distant slope and the woods beyond.
Tie Tianying threw the signal flare into the air; it flew skyward. As he waved his hand, his body seemed to step across a cloud of dust thrown up by the blast, and he said, “So many years, and you’re still using the same tricks with no improvement at all.”
More than ten years had passed, and naturally Fan Zhong had not made no progress at all—he had dared to come to Fuzhou, even use himself as bait to draw the other man out, precisely because in these ten-odd years, though he had begun to enjoy life more, he had always trained diligently in his martial arts, never slacking. By now, in the outside world, he could already be counted among the ranks of grandmasters—though Fan Zhong himself understood well that such a “grandmaster” reputation didn’t quite live up to its name; for someone who had once been merely a hired blade for the Liufa Gate, this level was likely about the peak a person could reach in a lifetime.
Going any higher, to the level of those like Liu Dabiao, Zhou Tong, or Lin Zongwu, who had used martial arts to enter the Dao itself, the Liufa Gate would only need to employ schemes and surround and annihilate them.
But in this moment, though Tie Tianying’s head was crowned with white hair, the long blade in his hand moved with utmost simplicity and directness. After becoming a high official of the court and living in “comfort and ease” for several years, his swordsmanship had, faintly, crossed that threshold that ordinary people could hardly ever cross—there was, in it, a trace of moving freely according to one’s heart’s desire, of all methods converging into one.
Fan Zhong laughed.
He understood the meaning behind what the other man had just said.
In his old age, he wanted to show his former colleagues what he had achieved, and that achievement, in truth, was far from being merely a difference in official rank or so-called character—there was also this visible, tangible advancement in his martial skill. As a former clerk of the Liufa Gate, he had now, ahead of everyone else, stepped into the realm of a grandmaster of the martial way—this too was one of the great stakes that made him willing to risk his life here today.
And at this moment, from a patch of small woods hidden by a mound behind the teahouse, not far off, a figure was already charging in this direction at full speed, and further off still, a much greater commotion was beginning to stir.
The one rushing forward at the very front was none other than the “Divine Monk” Tunyun.
Further off still were several underworld experts of somewhat lesser skill.
Given the court’s control over the city today, once Tie Tianying’s signal flare rose into the sky, reinforcements would surely arrive before long. Yet combining his own strength with Tunyun’s, plus several first-rate experts, killing Tie Tianying within a matter of breaths—that was what they were staking everything on today.
The moment the many commotions rose up, Tie Tianying naturally understood what was happening. He merely smiled coldly, his stride carrying him forward, an astonishing killing intent enveloping Fan Zhong.
Song Xiaoming had originally been the disciple he had trained up to be his successor, even to see him through his final years. In this moment, his enemy stood before him.
Fan Zhong swallowed hard, emptied his mind, and met the attack head-on.
And at the edge of his vision, Tunyun had not yet arrived.
Just as that figure charged forward at full speed, from behind the mound a fierce gust of force howled out, and a long spear swept past the mound, thrusting directly at Tunyun’s back. Tunyun shifted his footwork, dodging the spear, and a tall, long-legged female figure also charged out from that side with all her strength, moving to intercept him—it was none other than Yue Yinping, skilled in the Five-Step Thirteen-Spear technique.
And at Silver Bottle’s side, another figure gritted his teeth, and for a moment even burst forth with speed faster than hers, shouting loudly as he charged straight toward Fan Zhong.
—Yue Yun.
“You dare split your focus—”
A tremendous crash sounded—
The blade’s aura came slashing down; Fan Zhong retreated fiercely with his fan, wanting to break free of Tie Tianying, but that locked-on killing intent left him suffocated. He heard the other man roar, “This is all stuff the old man’s already played with and discarded—how dare you come out here and make a fool of yourself—”
At the edge of his vision, Yue Yun, driving himself forward with all his strength, charged the hardest and had already closed the distance in the blink of an eye, meaning to join Tie Tianying in surrounding and killing Fan Zhong first. But the monk Tunyun was formidable indeed—his form surged forward at full speed, closing the distance to Yue Yun.
In an instant, all three figures had closed in.
At this moment, Fan Zhong wielding his iron fan, Tie Tianying swinging his blade, Yue Yun striking with his fists, Tunyun swinging his iron sleeves, and Silver Bottle wielding her spear—five great masters collided in an instant, and in the midst of the clash, the withered-wood teahouse was smashed apart, its fragments scattering across the road beside them.
Two farmers passing by with carrying-poles watched the scene in terror; further off, several more people came rushing in, weapons raised.
……
Further off, at the bend in the dirt road.
A young man with a face full of misery and misfortune walked side by side with another middle-aged underworld figure whose face had been beaten black and blue, the two of them heading this way, when they caught sight of this astonishing scene.
Behind them, the sturdy, short-statured little demon-king picked up a piece of floral cloth and wrapped it around his own face, watching the fighting on the road ahead and the white-haired old man wielding his long blade.
Just as his own strategist had said—that lowly little demoness named Chen Shuangran was, in the end, plotting nothing more than this sort of low-class trick…
The strategist is a genius, the strategist is gorgeous, the strategist is truly adorable!
He stepped forward and, with a kick, sent the young man beside him—whose steps had grown hesitant—flying, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt.
“Get moving, where’s your boss, huh…”
His mouth spewed ferocious threats.
“Let me tell you, if I can’t find him, you two die too—”
There was a fight going on up ahead—so he’d just have to be more vicious than the rest of them! Scare these bastards to death—