Yao Tai Feng

The setting sun sank into the heart of the river, staining Xunyang City for a thousand li in the color of blood.

Xunyang, Jiangzhou's foremost city, was named for its location north of the Xun River. Nestled against mountains and beside water, it boasted such splendid scenery as Lushan Mountain and Poyang Lake, and was known as "mountains beside the city, city beside the water, water within the city."

In the gathering dusk, master and disciple walked along the blue-stone thoroughfare of this ancient city that had stood for a thousand years.

Zhou Sheng curiously took in everything around him.

Wine banners hung at a slant, half unfurled in the evening breeze. The paulownia-wood towers lining the street had weathered many years, their paint mottled and peeling, yet the scent of wine had only grown richer.

At the docks, masts stood thick as a forest, merchant ships and fishing boats pressed shoulder to shoulder. Rich gentry in brocade selected delicacies from sea and mountain, while laborers went bare-chested beneath sacks of hemp, beads of sweat from their backs falling into the dust and mud.

Then, from some painted pleasure boat, a songstress's pipa drifted over. Its strings carried soft, glutinous Wu dialect, making the old man selling flatbreads on shore tremble in his hands.

Zhou Sheng observed the thousand faces of common life as every kind of sound crowded into his ears.

There were the songs of understanding flowers from the pleasure boats and brothels, and the curses of gamblers in the theater markets and entertainment halls.

There were the sounds of people in restaurants feasting heartily on meat, and the chewing of beggars in dark alleys breaking apart half a moldy cake and swallowing it.

Until an operatic voice suddenly exploded into the air.

"Counsel the king to drink and listen to Yu's song, dance in swirling grace to ease his sorrow. The tyrannical Qin shattered the realm, and heroes rose from every quarter in war—"

Zhou Sheng suddenly raised his brows. He had already recognized the classic piece, Farewell My Concubine.

The singer was performing Consort Yu. To be frank, the vocal skill was quite ordinary, and even the breathing was unsteady. This was probably not a professional performer, but that singing style...

A ripple stirred in his heart.

This Consort Yu aria had broken the leisurely rhythm traditional to a Green-Robed Actress. If he had guessed correctly, it had also added the gong-and-drum beats of the Fast Hammer Beat, greatly increasing its tension.

In terms of vocal style, it had boldly blended the urgent, tightly paced tones of local operas such as Chao Opera, using a rhythm that was "swift yet not abrupt" to contrast with Peking Opera's drawn-out phrasing, "slow yet never sluggish." It was far more striking.

This was no outsider's forced, clumsy meddling. It was an insider's ingenious innovation.

To dare lay hands on such a masterpiece as Farewell My Concubine, and to make the changes work so brilliantly—this person's attainments in opera could only be called profound. There was already the bearing of a master.

Yet when he turned his head, what he saw was a madman.

The man was barely clothed, his tangled hair spilling over his shoulders. With a huge belly full of fat thrust out before him, he ran wildly barefoot down the street.

As he ran, he sang Consort Yu's lines from Farewell My Concubine.

The young maidens and married women on the street immediately covered their eyes in embarrassment and hurried aside.

Zhou Sheng's pupils contracted. His Dharma Eye blazed like a torch, and he saw dense yin energy on the madman's body. The three flames of yang fire on his shoulders had already become weak and wavering beneath the impact of that yin energy, on the verge of going out at any moment.

Had this man slept all night in a mass grave?

Even a mass grave should not have such heavy yin energy. Was a Fierce Ghost clinging to him?

Zhou Sheng circulated his Magic Power and poured it into his eyes. His gaze instantly became abnormally bright, piercing through all directions and seeing through every strand of yin energy on the man's body.

One, two, three...

Zhou Sheng was abruptly startled. The yin energy on this man came from different ghosts, and there were actually a hundred and eighty of them!

Had he stabbed a ghost nest?

Fortunately, the man had merely been tainted by the yin energy of different ghosts, rather than having a horde of ghosts demanding his life. Otherwise, he would never have survived until now.

"Isn't that Zhou Laosan?"

"He's having another episode? How many times has this been already?"

"Looks like he really did offend some Unclean things. He's acting as though he's possessed. Do you think he really... went to Gathering Immortals Tower to hear an opera?"

"Shh! Don't talk nonsense. That fire back then—how many people did it burn to death in Gathering Immortals Tower? Not even the entire troupe could piece together a single complete corpse!"

Hearing the surrounding discussions, Zhou Sheng's gaze shifted. He glanced at his Master, whose expression remained utterly unruffled, and fell into thought.

The next moment, the madman had nearly reached them.

Zhou Sheng stepped forward. Seeing that his Master did not stop him, he suddenly raised his eyes and poured in a great amount of Magic Power, causing his round pupils to faintly turn square.

In an instant, his gaze shone like lightning, seeming capable of piercing through everything like a sharp sword, and met the madman's eyes.

Rumble!

The madman felt as though a bolt of thunder had split through his mind, fiercely illuminating his pitch-black sea of consciousness. At the same time, agonized screams rang in his ears.

Divine eyes like lightning, driving out evil and cleansing filth!

The madman abruptly froze, then fell with a thud, as though he had lapsed into unconsciousness.

At that moment, those chasing after him arrived. They were likely his family. They hurriedly apologized to the passersby, draped clothes over him, and carried him away.

From beginning to end, Zhou Sheng had not uttered a word and no one noticed him, yet he had already helped the man dispel the yin energy on his body.

An ordinary Dharma Eye alone did not possess such power. Zhou Sheng had added the Thunderous Wrath Technique from the Spirit Officer Opera to the foundation of the standard Dharma Eye, and that was how it had achieved such astonishing might.

Just as Master had said, only after opening the Aperture of the Eye did the eye technique Zhou Sheng had painstakingly trained since childhood finally have a true place to shine.

"Master, that passage he just sang—"

"The opera was altered well, but that will not fill an empty stomach. We've walked for so long. Let's go to a restaurant first."

Yu Zhensheng strode forward in great strides. He did not look at all like someone with a leg injury, and he seemed thoroughly familiar with everything around him, as if he had lived in Xunyang City for a long time.

Before long, the two arrived at an imposing restaurant.

They slapped down a few taels of loose silver and ordered a lavish table of food, more than a dozen dishes in all, a balance of meat and vegetables with color, fragrance, and flavor all complete.

Zhou Sheng had long been ravenous. He immediately let himself go, eating like a whirlwind sweeping away fallen leaves, wolfing down food like a dragon swallowing a tiger, as though he wished he could chew even the chicken bones to pieces and swallow them.

His Master, meanwhile, still looked refined and scholarly. He savored a pot of Mount Lu Cloud Mist Tea and ate at an unhurried pace, deliberately avoiding the dishes Zhou Sheng liked best. Only after Zhou Sheng had eaten his fill did he leisurely raise his chopsticks.

Elegant, composed, extraordinary in bearing.

At this moment, he seemed like an entirely different person from Yu Zhensheng, the fierce and domineering Ghost Opera Performer who had pointed a gun at a judge.

"After eating so much greasy food, one should savor this Mount Lu Cloud Mist Tea. It is best for cutting through the richness."

Yu Zhensheng poured his disciple a cup of tea. As he looked at the green froth floating atop it, a trace of remembrance flashed through his eyes.

"When it came to brewing tea, if that girl called herself second, no one in all Jiangzhou would dare call themselves first. After so many years, I truly miss that flavor."

Zhou Sheng lifted his eyes and asked curiously, "Master, are you speaking of my senior sister?"

He had become increasingly curious about that senior sister. From Master's words, aside from being exceptional at opera, she also possessed peerless skill in brewing tea?

A faint guess arose in his heart. That mysterious senior sister was likely a Ghost Opera Performer who had successfully completed her training. Perhaps she had even become capable of standing alone, with a troupe of her own.

That was why Master had brought him to Xunyang City: to have him take the stage and sing in his senior sister's opera troupe.

Yu Zhensheng merely gave Zhou Sheng a faint glance, smiled, and said nothing.

Just then, with the crack of a Startling Hall Wood, the storyteller in the restaurant officially began his tale. He spoke of the Chu-Han contention, of Xiang Yu and Liu Bang.

The storyteller was skilled with his tongue and even knew some vocal mimicry. He could imitate the neighing of warhorses and the clash of weapons.

His tale rose and fell in twists and turns, stirring and impassioned.

"Now, when Chu and Han battled, an ambush on all sides trapped the Hegemon King. The waters of Wujiang ran cold, the songs of Chu mournful. Eight thousand loyal soldiers had perished, leaving only Xiang Yu, one man and one horse, his battle robe dyed in blood..."

"This Beauty Yu, her cloudlike hair disheveled and tears in her eyes, yet she held a gleaming sword in her arms. Honored guests, why do you think she came bearing a blade?"

The wooden clapper cracked!

"It turned out Consort Yu had long known the great tide had turned. She meant to dance one final dance for the Hegemon King, then let sword light circle her neck..."

"Truly, even now the waters of Wujiang sob and moan, still weeping for the fragrance of beauty beneath the sword!"

Having reached this point, the storyteller lightly struck a copper bowl to signal the end. Then a little girl of seven or eight came around carrying a battered basin, asking each guest for reward money.

The sight stirred something in Zhou Sheng's heart, reminding him of Uncle Xu and Cui Cui.

So he took out a tael of silver and placed it in the basin.

In an instant, the little girl's eyes lit up. An irrepressible smile spread across her waxen face as she repeatedly bowed.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!"

"No need to thank me. You make your living by your craft. This is what you deserve."

Zhou Sheng helped her up, patted her head, and spoke each word clearly.

The little girl froze, her gaze seeming touched.

At this point, the elderly storyteller also bowed to Zhou Sheng and said with a smile, "You honor this old man too greatly, sir. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. How about this—if there is any story you wish to hear, this old man will tell it for you now."

After thinking for a moment, Zhou Sheng said, "Then please tell me, sir: among the opera troupes of Xunyang City, who sings Consort Yu the best?"

The storyteller paused, then quickly said, "Young master wishes to hear opera? Then you have asked the right person!"

"In Xunyang City, there are three actresses skilled at singing Consort Yu. Wan Yunyan of the Four Seas Troupe possesses unrivaled bearing; Shui Linglong of Jade Full Tower has the finest singing style; and then there is Xinghuatian of Thirty Li Shop west of the city, who excels at sword dancing. All three are masters, each with her own strengths!"

"Is there anyone else?"

Zhou Sheng continued asking.

"There is also..."

The storyteller thought for a moment. Then his lips suddenly trembled, as if he had recalled something.

"One place does come to mind, but it was burned clean by a fire long ago. Ah, what a pity for the one inside."

At this point, he let out a long sigh. "If Master Feng were still alive, I fear those three women I just mentioned would not dare sing Consort Yu for the rest of their lives."

Ripples rose in Zhou Sheng's eyes as he continued asking, "No one in all of Xunyang City could compare?"

"Heh, not merely Xunyang City. Back then, no one in all Jiangzhou could compare with her!"

"What was her name?"

Remembrance and reverence appeared in the storyteller's eyes, and his voice trembled faintly. Clearly, his heart was far from calm.

"She was the foremost female lead of Jiangzhou eighteen years ago, Gathering Immortals Tower's jade pillar holding up heaven, its purple-gold beam bracing the sea—Yao Tai Feng!"