Iron horses and icy rivers ride into my dreams!

Chapter 519: A Song to Move Men to Tears — Legends of the Greenwood

“A’Gua,

Seeing these words is like seeing my face.

More than half a year has passed, and I don’t know whether your heart has settled since. I’ve been turning over and over the question of when I ought to reach out to you like this. At first I thought that meeting in person would be the better choice, but from what I’ve since learned of certain matters, I no longer feel I have the luxury of waiting quietly, and so I find myself forced to write you a letter like this instead.

As for the grievances between the two of us, it would be irresponsible of me to try to sum them up in a few simple words. You have every reason to hate me, and I have often wondered myself whether there might have been a better way to handle things back then, but looking back now changes nothing. If there is ever a chance, and you feel I owe you something, you may collect the debt from me in person, someday.

But I think that whatever is personal between us, we must set aside for now. The nearly two years you and your family spent lying low in the south have passed, and by now the roots you needed to put down should already be planted. Recently I’ve come to understand something of the situation in the south, and if your side means to make any moves going forward, I have some thoughts you might want to consider…”

It was the turn of late spring into early summer, and the long mountain rains had soaked everything among the ridges. Inside the bamboo tower, the young woman pushed open the window and looked out at the rain falling over the lush, distant forested hills. In the Miao Frontier, in Lanhuandong, even to the people who lived within the stronghold, that face of hers had long gone unseen.

Ever since she had set out the previous year to rescue the Buddha Marshal and returned, the young woman — once the head of the Overlord Blade, and now the mistress of Lanhuandong — had entered a long seclusion. To most of the Overlord Blade’s people, this was because their leader had gained some insight during the great battle against Lin Echan and the others, and now wished to push her martial arts to an even higher level. Only a small number knew that her seclusion was in truth because, after that battle, she had been left exhausted in body and spirit, sunk into confusion. And so, through this long half year and more, she had lived in quiet isolation in this main tower, using what little attention she had left to direct only the handful of matters in the stronghold that truly required her hand, while letting the rest unfold on their own, however they would.

That window, shut for so long, suddenly opened that day — a thing whose significance most in the stronghold did not grasp. But those who had once known her well could see clearly the changes that had come over her: the long months of seclusion had left her thinner, and what little softness of youth had remained in her face had faded with her growth. She was still beautiful, without question, but it had become difficult, now, to call her merely a “young woman.” Something complicated had settled at the bottom of her eyes, gradually hardening into something like a diamond — different from the stubbornness that had always been part of her nature. Only those who knew her well could tell the two apart.

“Cihua.” After standing at the window for a long while, she finally spoke flatly toward the door.

The maid’s voice answered from outside. “Mistress.”

“Send for Chen Fan… Master Chen. Have him come.”

“Yes.”

The maid threw on a straw raincoat and dashed off through the rain toward the lower halls. In the room, the woman named Liu Xigua sat in the chair by the window and let out a soft sigh.

The letter clutched in her hand had already been read through many times. After the first hesitation, and the anticipation she would never admit to, had come a thick, bitter soreness and an anger she could not voice — and in the end, even those feelings had congealed into something more complicated still, something that left her speechless.

Through the long, nearly year-long seclusion, the people she could not bring herself to face were not only Du Sha, Chen Fan, and the others who had taken part in the rescue, but also herself — someone who truly did not know, going forward, what choice to make. She had, of course, imagined that Ning Yi would explain everything to her face; that whatever she could not bring herself to confront, he might have some way of handling. But she had never expected that what would finally arrive was a letter like this.

That man had skipped lightly over everything, reducing the matter between the two of them to nothing more than private feelings, disposing of it in a few sentences before moving on to other things. That manner of his made her furious, made her seethe. She had, to some degree, hoped that once this letter arrived and she had read it, something might be resolved — even though, in her more clear-headed moments, she knew that was impossible. At the very least, he could have argued his case, could have apologized, could even have offered some unnecessary explanation for the choice he’d made back then. But in the end, there was nothing at all.

“You have every reason to hate me” — he hadn’t even tried to explain himself. In the end, that single line seemed to be the whole of what he had to say, as if it meant: go on hating me, then. And yet, after those few sentences, he had gone straight into laying out the bigger picture — as though he were certain she wouldn’t ignore what he proposed.

Truly… insufferably arrogant…

But once the anger passed, what truly infuriated her was that she genuinely could not keep the two feelings apart. In some clear-eyed part of herself, this woman — who had always been strong, or at least had always forced herself to appear strong enough to need no one’s support — had, over these past six months, indeed been waiting in her heart for someone’s explanation, or comfort. And if the time before this had been like resting, like sleeping, then this letter was like someone banging a gong desperately in her ear, telling her it was time to wake up and get out of bed. That person had only sounded the alarm — and refused to offer any comfort at all.

Even knowing that idle comfort, under these circumstances, would only have made everything feel shallow and glib, she still could not help but feel something like the irritability of being woken too soon. She unfolded the letter — page after page of it, written out at length, not at all like the letters scholars wrote nowadays, but more like someone simply talking, strange and graceless in style. And in truth, the only part she really wanted to read was the first few lines. Everything after that was page upon page about the state of affairs among the southern greenwood, the officials, the merchants, the underworld — which contacts could be used, which could not. She had already read it all several times over.

The maid named Cihua ran down from the tower and found Chen Fan, who taught martial arts at the stronghold’s school on one side of the mountain fortress. Not long after, he made his way up to the topmost bamboo tower of Lanhuandong, where he found Xigua waiting inside.

Rain fell heavily outside, and the room was dim, quiet. He stood in the doorway and looked her over for a moment before walking in. “If you don’t come out of seclusion soon, this whole stronghold’s going to fall apart.”

Xigua turned her head and glanced at him.

Over these six months and more, Chen Fan had been teaching the children of the stronghold martial arts, and had deliberately grown out a beard. The vital energy about him had grown ever more restrained. Where before one could still see in him something of an iron fist’s fierce spirit, now he had become more like a blade gradually growing blunt — a heavy sword needs no sharp edge, true skill needs no cleverness of technique. To a true master’s eye, it was clear he had found his own path toward a higher level. And for his part, he could see just as clearly that the sharp edge in Xigua had begun turning from keenness to weight — the woman before him was, without question, growing at a pace to match his own.

“Ning Yi’s letter.”

“Why are you showing it to me?”

A flicker of confusion crossed Chen Fan’s eyes. He took the letter, sat down, and read it over for a while, then shrugged. “Not bad — he’s got a clean read on all these southern people. Just do as he says. Why bring this to me instead of talking it over with Uncle Nan and the others… oh, he’s sending us a shipment. You want me to go collect it?”

“I want to know what’s happened to him.”

“Recently?” Chen Fan frowned. “Haven’t heard anything. He’s always had a fearsome reputation, and it just keeps growing louder — but as for something actually happening to him… no, nothing.”

“Look at what he wrote at the beginning.”

“…That’s just words meant for you. What of it?”

Xigua looked at him, then reached out and took the letter back. “Right here — he says he’s learned of something that’s made him feel he no longer has time to wait quietly, and that’s why he’s writing now… Something that would put him on guard, that might make him come looking for our help — what do you think that could be?”

Put that way, Chen Fan finally understood, and his brow furrowed. “Now that you mention it, that is odd… I’ve kept up with things up north. In the second half of last year, he offended no small number of people. It’s the tail end of what came from him breaking Liangshan — it’s only gotten worse since, with people going to the capital to try to assassinate him, though hardly any of them have succeeded. Along those lines, last year he already offended Lin Echan, and lately the Great Radiance Sect has been growing fast — Lin Echan’s martial skill now sweeps unrivaled across the land. If this keeps escalating, he might actually manage to provoke Zhou Tong into a real contest. If that’s the trouble, and he’s hoping we’ll step in… but that doesn’t sound like him, either…”

“Who exactly has he offended?”

“All sorts of…” Chen Fan started to say, then seemed to realize something and laughed. “You’re not thinking of helping clean up this mess, are you? Don’t even consider it. You probably don’t know the details — let me tell you. In the second half of last year, he was busy with famine relief…”

The rain rustled on, filling the space between heaven and earth. In that small tower at the edge of the southern sky, the two of them spent no small amount of time discussing the events of the eleventh year of the Jinghan era. Not long after, Liu Tiannan, the steward of the Overlord Blade, and the others began making their way up to the bamboo tower, coming to lay out more troubles before Xigua.

Over the following days, Xigua formally stepped forward and began handling the many matters that had piled up in the stronghold during her seclusion. Then Chen Fan, together with Ji Qian’er — who had by then become his wife — bid farewell to Xigua, Liu Tiannan, Du Sha, and the others, and set out north. On one hand, he was to collect a shipment of goods brought by the Bamboo Trading House; on the other, he began paying visits, one by one, to the forces the Great Radiance Sect had left behind in the south, setting out to take his revenge on Lin Echan, Sikong Nan, and the rest.

…

In the north.

A summer night, faint moonlight hanging in the sky. On the official road running north to south, two swift horses tore through the darkness!

Though summer had already arrived, the region was still gripped by famine, and even on the official road, few travelers braved the night. The road wound and stretched onward, passing through a small market town ahead; even with the faint lamplight of the inns there, the two riders showed no sign of stopping. In the dim light, one could make out that the rider in front was an old man with graying temples, while the man on the horse behind him was already in his forties or fifties — no longer young himself.

The two men racing along that road were none other than Zhou Tong, the great master whom Lin Zongwu, leader of the Great Radiance Sect, had long sought out for a match but never managed to find, and behind him, naturally, his disciple and companion, Fulu. Zhou Tong, despite his advanced years, possessed cultivation so profound that his physical condition remained a match for any young man’s — but even so, riding through the night like this was bound to take a toll on his body. As the faint light of the inn slipped past beside them, he glanced sideways toward it for a moment, then spurred his horse on to catch up.

“Master, it’s late, and this horse has run nearly the whole day. If there’s somewhere ahead, we ought to let it rest.”

“How much longer to Taoting?”

“Several hundred li. At least two more days.”

“Too long. The gathering may happen any day now — we can’t afford more delay. We’ll change horses at the next inn.”

“There’s truly no need to rush so much. Even if they hold their meeting, so long as we intercept them on the road to the capital, we can still stop things from going further. Master, riding like this will do your health no good…”

Zhou Tong answered Fulu’s words with a laugh, then turned solemn. “Loyal and good men are in danger — if I simply couldn’t make it in time, so be it, but since I can make it, why would I fear a little hardship along the way… There are over two hundred of them, and no shortage of reckless, quarrelsome men among them. If I arrive too late and they’ve already made their decision, and refuse to give this old face of mine any face at all, what then? Either way, it’s about saving lives — there’s nothing to worry over!”

Knowing his master’s temperament — once Zhou Tong made up his mind, nothing would change it — Fulu fell silent and argued no further. Before long the two of them reached another inn, where they paid handsomely for two fresh horses from the stable boy, who was startled to see the age of the two men buying them. But after only the briefest rest, Zhou Tong and Fulu mounted again and continued south through the night.

The reason for such urgency was that Zhou Tong had learned of certain news. A disciple of his in name only was leading a great gathering of greenwood heroes in a place called Taoting County to the south — over two hundred participants in all, no small number of them well-known veterans of the martial world — and the purpose of this gathering was to move against a loyal official of the court, a man Zhou Tong knew personally.

Once he had confirmed the news, Zhou Tong set out south at once with Fulu. His work on famine relief had already taken him as far as the area near Yanmen Pass, and the road south was a long one — but he knew all too well how reckless men of the greenwood could be. Once their blood was up and they had truly decided to act together, even he might not be able to talk them out of it. And so he had no choice but to press on day and night, racing against time.

The two of them set out in the morning and rode through the night; the next day they changed horses again at a market town, and for two full days and nights they rode on without stopping. By the time night fell again on that second day, they finally, just barely, reached Taoting County — arriving before the deadline had passed. The people of the greenwood, ordinarily men of little standing, loved nothing more than a lively gathering when they came together; from a distance, the county town blazed with lantern light, and a clamor of noise carried through the air — whether it was opera being sung or something else, it was hard to tell. Drawing closer, a thunderous boom suddenly rang out across the night sky, like some enormous firecracker, startling and jarring — the horses shied wildly at the sound.

Zhou Tong had rushed here in such haste in order to mediate a misunderstanding between the two sides — first, to make clear to the crowd that the loyal official in question was in truth a good man, and that they should not go after him and thereby be used as tools by wicked men; and second, because that man’s standing was no small thing either — even with over two hundred men gathered, they might well be unable to overcome him, and a reckless march on the capital could instead cost them their own lives. But arriving just before the gathering’s deadline, he found, to his shock, that this heroes’ assembly had clearly already gone wrong.

Firelight flickered as a group of men came fighting their way out ahead, three men of the martial world drenched in blood, fighting desperately against the court’s hunting dogs closing in from behind. In the end, one of them was caught fast in a fishing net; the other two threw themselves forward to save him and were beaten down to the ground, where several men with clubs rained blows down on their heads and bodies without mercy. Blood spread across the ground, and only once the three had been beaten until their heads were bloodied and they lay at the point of death did the pursuers bundle them up in the net and drag them off like stray dogs.

Zhou Tong and Fulu rushed on into the small county town after them…

…

In the final years of the Wu Dynasty, treacherous officials held power, and among them the most vicious and overbearing was an intelligence organization known as the Secret Investigation Bureau, whose chief architect, Ning Liheng, was cruel and merciless, ruthless and domineering. Righteous and loyal men throughout the martial world rose up one after another to stand against him, and thus began, one after another, tales of the greenwood worthy of song and tears…

—And it is here that our story begins.