Chapter Sixty-Three: Leaving the Mountains

Although it was now certain that Chen Mo had not been poisoned, how to deal with the arrow still remained a problem.

"Brother Ye, you've fought in wars. You know how to handle arrow wounds, don't you?" Chen Mo asked, clutching his arm.

"I do," Ye Pei replied, squatting down beside Chen Mo, "but as things stand... there's really only one method that suits the situation."

"Whatever it is, just do it quickly. Don't wait," Chen Mo urged.

Ye Pei smiled slightly. "It's not that I don't want to treat you, but—"

Before Chen Mo could finish listening intently to Ye Pei's words, Ye Pei suddenly struck with his palm, slamming into the fletching of the arrow. In an instant, the injury became a through-and-through wound.

"Ah—!" Chen Mo let out a piercing scream as Ye Pei, without pause, sliced off the arrowhead protruding from the other side of Chen Mo's arm and then yanked the shaft out in one swift motion.

Chen Mo's cries of pain showed no sign of stopping, but Ye Pei was already tearing off a piece of Chen Mo's own clothing to bind the wound.

"This was just to distract you so I could finish quickly," Ye Pei explained as he worked, glancing at the wailing Chen Mo. "If I'd told you in advance, you'd definitely have dodged, and it would've been a mess. Now it's roughly bandaged; once we're outside, you should let a proper doctor treat it. There's no way to disinfect your wound in a place like this."

"Alright, now let's consider these steps," Ye Pei said, standing up.

To ascend the great circular platform before them, they could only climb the hundreds of steps laid out in front.

Only this section of the platform, where the three stood, had stairs; the rest was smooth and steep. Even with Ye Pei's exceptional lightness skills, scaling a sheer hundred-zhang wall from a standstill was impossible.

Ye Pei had once, as a child, managed to leap high by harnessing undeveloped inner strength and catching Ye Feilan, but even then, it was only possible by exploiting the wind's current—otherwise, it would have been impossible.

"Right now, only Xiao Mo is injured, fortunately not too seriously," Huang Jifeng said, eyeing the steps. "But we still don't know how vast this tomb is, or how far we've traveled within. The road ahead is uncertain. We must be extremely cautious as we climb these stairs."

Ye Pei nodded. "My lightness skills are a bit better. Let's stick to the plan. Follow behind me."

Two stories unfold, each on its own path.

Wangmai.

Since the division of the Xia Kingdom, both sides had claimed legitimacy, branding the other as the "false Xia Kingdom." Tensions at the border ran high, with swords drawn and gunpowder thick in the air.

Yet neither side dared to truly engage in war. Whether it was Emperor Chengtian, Xia Yunge, or Emperor Tenglong, Xia Wuyu, both kept a wary eye on the Snow Kingdom, coveting in the north.

Nonetheless, there had been skirmishes—no formal battles, but small-scale clashes of thousands had occurred. Yet, on the battlefield... everyone was Xia. After all these years, even wars with the Snow Kingdom would see brothers or friends meeting across enemy lines—let alone a civil war.

The soldiers could not defy orders from above, but in their hearts, it was up to the generals whether to fight, while the manner of fighting was up to them. On the battlefield, both sides seemed to have an unspoken agreement: swords were blunted, blades sheathed. After each engagement, there were many wounded but only single-digit deaths. Eventually, the generals simply withdrew most of their forces, leaving only a handful to garrison the border, glaring at each other across the line.

Meanwhile, over in the Snow Kingdom, Ziying was content to watch this farce unfold. Internally, Snow called Xia Yunge's side the Western Xia, and Xia Wuyu's the Eastern Xia. At first, Ziying had not expected the two sides to stop fighting almost as soon as they started; a nearly-issued mobilization order was quietly shelved.

Talented commanders were rare. After the War of the Flaming Season, Xia lost Xiao Ming, the Snow Kingdom lost Ye Linhui, and Ye Pei—on whom Ziying had pinned great hopes—had disappeared in the final battle. If Xia had not fractured, there would have been no reason or will to go to war between the two kingdoms.

In fact, Snow was the weaker party. Feng Jing's abilities were inferior to Duan Yaoqi's, and in a direct confrontation, they might well lose. Upon seeing Xia divided, Ziying began concocting a pretext for war, seeking a just cause. Bizarrely, none could be found, and Ziying nearly settled for the hollow excuse of "rescuing the people of Xia from fire and water." In the end, with all three sides unwilling to fight, the situation seemed perfectly satisfactory.

A small, peaceful mountain village.

The steady "buzzing" in Yue Zhe's courtyard came from his practice with two heavy bamboo swords.

One blade in Yue Zhe's hands moved unpredictably, mysterious and unfathomable; the other, heavy and forceful, fierce and unyielding. The two utterly different styles did not clash but complemented each other beautifully in his grip.

Yue Zhe's steps, after so much training, had grown more ethereal, his inner energy swirling around him, stirring sharp gusts. He moved like a phantom, impossible to grasp.

Suddenly, applause echoed through the courtyard. Yue Zhe had no idea when anyone had entered.

Recognizing the visitor, he set his bamboo swords aside and saluted, "Elder Hui!"

Elder Huiyao was to Yue Zhe both mentor and friend. He had guided Yue Zhe to forge his own path using the sword skills of Yueyuncheng, and had taught him a proper inner discipline, "The Bright Sutra."

Picking up a wine jar at his feet, the elder chuckled, "Come, let's have another drink!"

At least once or twice a month, the old man would seek Yue Zhe out to share wine. Yue Zhe was used to it by now, and with a smile, invited his guest to sit while he fetched some homemade dishes and utensils. Together, they ate, drank, and talked freely.

"Ah Zhe," the elder, uncharacteristically, poured Yue Zhe a cup with his own hand, "you're a northerner—are you used to living in the south?"

Yue Zhe paused, then said, "It's alright. Just a bit damp and hot."

The elder nodded. "Ah Zhe, you should leave this place."

"Ah?" Yue Zhe froze for a few seconds, then suddenly remembered something the elder had said before. "Is Ye Pei coming back?"

The elder shook his head. "No, not yet—he'll be a while. But you ought to travel the rivers and lakes of Wangmai, make a name for yourself. When Ye Pei returns, he'll need your strength, and your reputation, too. Besides, you're still young. You shouldn't stay in this village forever. I'll give you a place—if you have nowhere else to go, you can choose to head there."

The next morning, Yue Zhe led his horse, carrying the provisions the elder had prepared for him. He knelt and bowed three times, nine times in total, according to the rites of master and disciple.

The old man did not refuse, receiving Yue Zhe's salute with solemnity. Then Yue Zhe mounted his horse and rode off without another word.

Three days later, on the outskirts of a city near Xingguang, capital of the Xia Kingdom—

Early in the morning, Yue Zhe appeared under a tree, took up a shovel, and began to dig. Soon, he heard a dull thud as the shovel struck something.

Chuckling, Yue Zhe retrieved his pair of swords, untouched for months. His laughter grew and grew, "Ha ha ha! The martial world—your master is back!"

Without delay, he leapt onto his horse and rode off, leaving the nearby farmers staring after him as if he were mad.

Having thought it over, Yue Zhe realized he had nowhere else to go, so he studied the address the elder had given him.

"North Mountain of the Snow Kingdom? That's far." With a grumble, Yue Zhe wasted no more time and galloped north.

Half a month later, in a small town by North Mountain, Ye Feilan, freshly washed and dressed, was as usual serving customers in a teahouse. But that day, a gang of ill-intentioned men arrived.

"Little girl, where are you from? Haven't seen you in this town before," the fat man in the lead called out, eyes glinting.

Ye Feilan glanced at the greasy-faced man and his fierce followers with a look of disgust. "Shunxing City," she replied.

Outside town, Sanhu asked, "You haven't been here in ages—how did you know something was going to happen today?"

Early that morning, Ni Manxiu had dragged Sanhu from their mountain cave to hurry over.

"You don't understand—I can glimpse the secret workings of fate!" Ni Manxiu smoothed his hair.

Sanhu's exasperated look betrayed his thoughts, and he quickly changed the subject.

"Hey, that little girl is rather pretty, isn't she?"

Ni Manxiu straightened his robe. "Of course! I—"

Before he could utter another vain boast, Sanhu interrupted, "You've been fussing with your hair and collar for ages—what are you doing?"

Ni Manxiu grinned. "A hero rescuing a damsel—one must look the part!"

As the two bantered, the fat man had already made his move.

"Let go!" Ye Feilan struggled desperately, slapping at the fat hand that gripped her. "What are you doing!"

But how could she match the fat man's strength? Her frantic efforts meant nothing to him. Ignoring her feeble resistance, he began to pull her into his arms...

"Swish—" Suddenly, a stone whistled through the air toward the fat man, who, with a sharp look, released Ye Feilan and caught the stone one-handed.

"Well! Quick reflexes!" Ni Manxiu and Sanhu strode over. "Miss, come here. I'm a friend of your mother's!"

Hearing "Miss" and "your mother," Ye Feilan's trust in Ni Manxiu rose considerably. With no other choice, she hurried to his side.

Ni Manxiu placed her beside Sanhu. "You protect her. As for this rabble..." He pointed at the group, his right forefinger drawing a line through the air. "I'll handle them!"

Eager to show off, Ni Manxiu drew two short rods from his belt and charged at the villains, hoping to win the lady's heart.

But...

"Ah—!" In less time than it takes to drink a cup of tea, Ni Manxiu was sent flying back, landing at Ye Feilan's feet and spitting blood.

"You..." Ye Feilan began anxiously, but Ni Manxiu sprang to his feet, waved her off, and called to Sanhu, "Together this time!"

Yet...

"Ah—!" "Roar—!"

The outcome needs no telling.

Standing again, Ni Manxiu's expression grew grave as waves of shock rolled through him.

"What is happening? These men all have inner energy—not strong, but they wield a combined attack I've never seen before. Since when did Wangmai have such esoteric techniques?"

"I say, if you want to live, you'd better hand over the girl—"

"A bunch of grown men bullying two children—aren't you ashamed!"

Suddenly, a clear voice rang out. A black-clad girl appeared from nowhere, landing in front of Ni Manxiu.

Ni Manxiu blinked, studied her for a moment, then flicked his fingers and smiled. "Oh, it's you."

The girl frowned. "Have we met?"

"No," Ni Manxiu replied. "But just the two of us, winning against this lot won't be easy."

The fat man's grating voice sounded again. "Good that you know it! I say, little girl—" His gaze shifted to the black-clad newcomer. "You come with me, and bring the other girl behind you..."

Whatever else he meant to say was cut off.

A horse neighed loudly. Its rider removed his bamboo hat and shouted, "Let's see who dares to bully my niece!"

Ni Manxiu let out a sigh of relief. "Now that's enough."