Heading to Jimo to Enlist

When Zhao Liang returned to the Charity House, there was still no sign of Tian Yi. He waited anxiously until evening, when Tian Yi finally came back from hunting. After dinner, Zhao Liang saw Jiang Ran call Tian Yi into the room. Thinking to himself, “They’re probably talking about me—will it work out or not?” he lingered expectantly at the door. After the time it takes to burn an incense stick, Jiang Ran poked his head out and beckoned to him, “Zhao Liang, come in.”

Zhao Liang’s heart was in turmoil as he hurried into the room in three quick steps.

Jiang Ran looked at him solemnly and said, “Xiaoliang, your Uncle Tian and I have talked it over. You’ve been in Tian Family Village for sixteen years now. The village is too small, like a tiny pond—it can’t nurture a big fish. Only by venturing into the open sea can you become a true dragon. Now, it’s time for you to spread your wings and soar. Tomorrow, at dawn, we set out for Jimo City to take part in the selection.”

“That’s wonderful!”

Zhao Liang leapt up in excitement, clenching his fists, his face flushed with emotion. Once he had calmed down, he asked, “Mr. Jiang, is everyone going this time?”

“How could we all go? We don’t have enough money for that. Only three of us will go: you, me, and Jiang Tao.”

“Won’t the others be disappointed?”

“Among all the children at the Charity House, Xiao Tao is the oldest and most steady, and you, Zhao Liang, are the brightest and the best at your studies. The others are still too young; it would be pointless for them to go. Even if we sent them to join the army, they might not be accepted, let alone chosen for anything greater. Our funds are limited, so the best steel must be used for the blade’s edge. Only the three of us will go. Go tell Xiao Tao to get ready; at dawn we’ll set out.”

The next morning, at the entrance of the Charity House, Tian Yi and the children gathered to see the three off.

“Old Jiang, you’re sure to be chosen—you’re so learned! If the King of Qi doesn’t make use of you, he must be blind,” Tian Yi said.

“Alright, Old Tian, enough of your teasing. If I’m chosen, I’ll invite you to Linzi for wine and meat; if I’m not, I’ll return to the Charity House to keep you company. How’s that for loyalty?”

Tian Yi laughed, thumping Jiang Ran on the chest. “You’re a real friend, damn it!”

“Brother Tao, Brother Liang, you must do your best when you get there!”

“Liang, Brother Tao, make sure you give those city folk a run for their money—don’t let them look down on us. They always call us country bumpkins. Show them what we’re made of!”

The children chattered on, each calling out their farewells.

“Alright, it’s getting late, time to be on our way,” Jiang Ran interrupted.

“Safe travels!”
“Take care!”
“Come back soon!”

Everyone waved as the three set off, striding out of the village in the morning sunlight, heading toward Jimo City.

While Jiang Ran and his companions were on the road, a golden oriole flew into the territory of Chu, gliding toward the Nine Li Mountains.

These mountains lay in the eastern reaches of Chu. Though not tall, legend held that immortals dwelled within, and no one had ever reached the summit. From the foothills upward, the mountains were perpetually shrouded in mist, veiling all but the faintest outline and making it impossible to glimpse their true form.

The golden oriole seemed wholly familiar with the landscape, beating its wings straight toward the heart of the mountains, soon swallowed by the clouds and fog.

All around was a blinding whiteness, impossible to find one’s bearings, yet the bird showed no trace of confusion, flying swiftly in a chosen direction.

After the time it takes to burn an incense stick, the bird sensed the world brightening ahead, and suddenly burst out of the mist.

What met its eyes was a lush, verdant range, with emerald hills and babbling streams, wildflowers in full bloom, air fragrant and sweet. Cranes soared through the sky, while deer darted among the trees—a scene of otherworldly beauty.

One could not help but marvel at this paradise.

Yet, had a cultivator come here, they would never see it this way. For this was the infamous Hundred Blossoms Killing Array, a name whispered in dread throughout the cultivation world. Trespassers who triggered the wards would be met by a storm of petals turning to lethal blades, shredded in the blink of an eye.

The golden oriole, quite at ease, flew straight into a secluded valley, where two great characters—Lan Yu—were inscribed on a stone at the entrance.

In this valley, orchids grew wild and thick, perfuming the air with their heady fragrance. There were spring orchids, cymbidiums, ink orchids, and winter orchids—truly a hundred kinds of orchids, green leaves and purple stems swaying in the breeze.

There were also sword-leafed orchids, Song plum, Green Cloud, and so on. It was as the poem said: “In the courtyard of spring grow hidden orchids, their fragrance awaiting the fresh wind.”

Amid this sea of blossoms stood a graceful pavilion, and within it, a woman dressed in white. Her hair was piled high, her temples exquisite as if painted, her eyes dark as ink—beautiful yet dignified, with a hint of heroic spirit in her bearing.

At the oriole’s approach, she pursed her lips and whistled softly, raising her right hand. The bird fluttered over and alighted on her palm.

She untied a silk scroll from the bird’s leg and unrolled it. After reading, her face grew grave.

“Qing’er, take Little Yellow and see to him well. I must pay a visit to the Hundred Flowers Palace.”

“Yes, Master,” replied a young woman in blue, seventeen or eighteen years old. She stepped forward and carefully took the oriole from her teacher’s hand.

The woman in white waved her right hand, and a flying sword flashed into view. She stepped lightly onto it and rose into the sky, speeding out of the valley like a bolt of lightning.

Within the span of a meal, she landed before the main peak of the Nine Li Mountains, in front of a grand palace.

The palace rose ten zhang high and was over two hundred zhang wide, the walls more than two zhang thick, all built of blue stone—majestic and imposing. Above the main gate were nine lifelike phoenixes, wings spread as if about to take flight, and above them hung a plaque carved with three bold characters: Hundred Flowers Palace.