Chapter 2

Night fell. Squeezed within a mountain gorge amid an unbroken range of peaks, Lan You Village was small and tranquil, utterly unchanged by the deaths of two fine horses from Crimson Blood Fortress. Perhaps the only difference was the two silent figures beneath the old osmanthus tree at the village entrance.

Chang'an liked the night because it held the stars. The starry sky was profound and intricate; the stars were brilliant and eternal. He could find peace within them.

He never killed at night.

Behind Chang'an, the old man's back gradually hunched. The sharp gleam in his eyes faded, becoming clouded and weathered. In the night wind, he now carried the frail tremble unique to the elderly, as if he could no longer withstand wind and rain. He truly had grown old—an old man who had watched his grandson be abducted. Yang Taiyi.

Chang'an suddenly lowered his head. No longer looking at the stars, he looked at the old man's weathered face and said, "Uncle Yang, you've suffered for this!"

Yang Taiyi slowly took two steps forward. Looking at Chang'an, who stood a full head taller than himself, the expression on his wrinkled face eased. He let out a long sigh. "Erhu is clever, and his kung fu is nimble. He won't suffer a loss. Just bring him back safely someday. But you—your cultivation, all your glory, is gone. Liu Xuanfeng, the young fortress lord of Crimson Blood Fortress, earned fame without breaking a sweat. You became his stepping stone, and suffered a terrible injustice for it. That lecher got away cheap!"

Chang'an merely narrowed his eyes and smiled. "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river—it is all fate. I think I understand a tiny bit now. There is no knot in my heart. But Lu Jing of Dragon Yang Sect truly leaves me unable to swallow this anger..."

Yang Taiyi's arm trembled lightly. A ball of force, crystalline as ice, suddenly condensed in his palm. As mist swirled around it, it became a thin line and shot forth, piercing the earth and stone with a pfft. A chaotic chorus of squeaks rose from underground. A nest of field mice that harmed the crops had been wiped out by Yang Taiyi as if incidentally. Yang Taiyi, who often dealt with such pests in the fields, clasped his hands behind his back and said calmly, "External, internal, qi, essence, spirit—every one of them is broad and profound, each more wondrous than the last. Dragon Yang Sect is a great sect that cultivates Qi Gong. Dragon Yang Qi Gong is domineering and fiercely masculine, unrivaled under heaven. Yet Lu Jing appeared and, relying purely on external kung fu, scattered all your Internal Energy Cultivation. He took a path off the beaten track. Thirteen years of bitter training through winter and summer, all poured down the drain. Even this old man's heart aches to see it. Those people from Crimson Blood Fortress truly came at just the right time."

Chang'an said, "There are no walls without cracks! I just don't know who deliberately leaked the news and sold the secret that all my martial arts had been crippled. Liu Xuanfeng won fame and plucked away my glory, but that may not be a good thing. Perhaps someone will recognize my Green Ox on his way back. How can he have an easy time?! If he isn't beaten to death halfway there, that will be his good fortune. How can anyone only pick up advantages without ever suffering a loss? What I cannot accept is Lu Jing! I cultivated both internal and external arts and trained bitterly since childhood. I truly cannot accept this defeat! No matter how I think about it, I cannot understand why I lost—why even my sword was taken..."

Yang Taiyi could only sigh. Even with all his seasoned experience, he could not understand it. Chang'an's kung fu had all been taught by his own hand, and no one knew its roots and details better than he did. Though Chang'an's internal force still lacked refinement, and he could not unleash it in an explosive burst or gather it into a line to wound someone from afar, his external kung fu was exceptionally formidable, especially his swordsmanship. At the time, Liu Xuanfeng's barrage of wild punches had failed to damage him at his core. That was the result of hard training, not an empty frame built overnight.

After a long while, Chang'an suddenly let out a deep sigh. He looked solemnly at Yang Taiyi. "Uncle Yang, I'm going back to the rear mountain."

Yang Taiyi was startled. The dense wrinkles on his face tightened as he asked gravely, "You truly intend to go?"

Chang'an nodded firmly. "I've made my decision. I'll go up the mountain tomorrow!"

Hearing this, Yang Taiyi fell silent. After standing quietly for a while, he walked toward the village, his back bleak and lonely.

Chang'an remained alone at the village entrance. He suddenly threw two punches. His form was orthodox, yet the powerful force of old was gone. In his secret battle with Lu Jing, his internal force had been completely destroyed, as though the fuel had been pulled from beneath the cauldron. He was now like a flood dragon without sinews or bones—he had the form of a dragon, but none of its strength. He gritted his teeth and gave a fierce shout. At last, his emotions settled. He climbed the old osmanthus tree and lay across a branch, gazing at the stars filling the sky. He began recalling his eight brothers and sisters, imagining what his father and mother might look like. He remained sleepless all night.

The next day, dawn broke beneath clear skies.

Chang'an jumped down from the osmanthus tree and raised his head to look at the towering mountains behind Lan You Village, their peaks piercing the clouds. He slowly exhaled. He had carefully buried countless beautiful and bitter memories within Dragon Green Mountain. There was an immortal-like elder sister there, Bai Lian'er, and an old grandfather who would erupt into thunderous roars at the slightest provocation. Chang'an had grown up on Dragon Green Mountain. Bai Lian'er, three years his senior, had meticulously cared for his food, clothing, and rest. In his memories, she did not like to smile, yet her brows and eyes were very gentle. Counting the days, it had been three years and seventy-eight days since they had last met.

Dragon Green Mountain was too steep for ordinary people to climb. Near its summit stood a sheer cliff several dozen zhang high, making it an isolated realm perched above all else. There was no road up the mountain. Chang'an followed the foothills upward, weaving through thickets and brambles, climbing rock faces, and trudging on alone. By noon, he had finally approached the summit.

That sheer cliff became a natural barrier blocking his way. He had no way to climb it now, unless he trained his external kung fu to the point of sinews of steel and bones of iron, allowing his five fingers to dig into the rock wall. Without internal force, he could no longer use his lightness skill. Flying over grass, treading across water, scaling eaves and walking walls—none of it was possible.

Chang'an panted lightly, his face full of bitter helplessness. Both hands clung to a slightly protruding rock. Raising his head toward the mountaintop, he drew in a breath and shouted, "Sister Bai Lian, Sister Bai Lian..." He shouted eight times before finally stopping. From the summit came an incomparably violent roar, like a lion's bellow: "Which damned thing is making trouble... Fu'er, Fu'er... go knock that shrieking demon down the mountain..."

Chang'an did not dare shout again. Wearing a miserable expression, he waited without moving, gazing eagerly at the cliff above, waiting for his immortal-like elder sister to save him.

Before long, a graceful figure in the bloom of youth drifted to the cliff's edge and leaned slightly forward to look down. Strands of the young woman's lovely hair hung down one by one, moving in the wind. Her expression was cool, her eyes bright as snow. She truly possessed the bearing of a fairy, and an air untouched by mortal dust naturally arose around her.

At the sight of her, Chang'an froze for a moment, then repeatedly called, "Sister Bai Lian, hurry and bring me up."

Hearing him, the young woman straightened her slender waist and shook her head with a troubled expression. "Master won't allow you up the mountain." She knew that without Master's permission, Chang'an would never dare climb the mountain. Even if he did, he would be beaten back down.

She looked at Chang'an, her brows knitting together. She could scarcely believe that Chang'an had become fat.

Chang'an said bitterly, "If I'm not allowed up the mountain, then I can neither go up nor down. I'll be at the end of the road... Ah... ah... I might as well jump from here..." As he spoke, he closed his eyes and released his grip. His chubby body plunged straight down from the towering mountain.

Seeing this, the young woman's gentle brows furrowed even tighter. She cried out softly, "Naughty!" Her figure flashed as she leaped off the cliff. She untied a seven-colored silk ribbon from her waist and flicked it out with a swish. The ribbon curled around Chang'an's waist. Then her delicate hand dug into the rock wall, while her other hand seized the ribbon and pulled hard. Chang'an's entire body flew upward before she caught him in one sweep.

Chang'an wore a smug smile as he silently reached out and wrapped an arm around the woman's slender waist, startling the fairy-like young woman. Her plain face flushed crimson. Just as she was about to angrily rebuke him, she heard Chang'an softly call, "Fu'er!"

The woman caught her breath and said shyly, "Master never lets you call me that! If Master hears it, he'll beat you so badly that you won't be able to crawl for ten days."

Chang'an chuckled, his eyes narrowing. "It would still be worth it! That old man wants to keep you trapped here, but I'm taking you away, flying far away—whether you agree or not. Fu'er promised me when we were little that she'd take care of me for the rest of my life..."

Yu Fu's expression softened. She lowered her head and smiled gently, her face blooming like peach blossoms as she said shyly, "Who wants to spend a lifetime caring for a little rascal, a big fatso..." Bai Fu's expression suddenly changed. She cried out in alarm, "Chang'an, you—your cultivation?" In that instant, she noticed something wrong with Chang'an. Panic turned her eyes cold and fierce, like a gentle mother cat protecting her cub after discovering her kitten had been bullied. Yu Fu said coldly, "Chang'an, who made you like this? I'll avenge you... Chang'an, take Fu'er there right now!"

Chang'an smiled bitterly and rubbed Yu Fu's willow-leaf brows, which had drawn together. Just as he was about to speak, a voice like heavenly thunder boomed from the cliff top, filled with fury. "Where do you think you're going? Hm? Where are you going? Stay on the mountain, all of you! You're not allowed to go anywhere!"

Bai Fu and Chang'an were both startled. With perfect unspoken understanding, they lowered their heads together. Neither dared speak nor move.

Thunder God Yang Qingling, Bai Fu's master and grandfather, was the man who had raised Chang'an with his own hands. Before these two juniors, he possessed incomparable authority.

Yang Qingling had a temper as violent as fire and was renowned far and wide for his booming voice. His martial arts were unfathomable. He was no crude pugilist of the martial world; his voice was loud, and his reasoning was just as imposing, leaving others with no choice but to respect and obey him.

Yang Qingling glanced at the two children below the cliff and immediately grew impatient. He barked, "Why aren't you coming up? Are you trying to rebel?!"

Chang'an said quietly, "Sister Bai Lian, let's go up."

Bai Fu was still somewhat unwilling. Her beautiful eyes fixed on Chang'an. "Chang'an, who exactly harmed you?"

Chang'an said, "Once we're up the mountain, I'll tell you bit by bit. Let's go up first!" Warmth rose in Chang'an's heart. No one in the world cared for and cherished him more than Fu'er. Though they had not met in over three years, that warm feeling had not changed in the slightest.

Only then did Yu Fu bring Chang'an up to the mountaintop. The two stood before Yang Qingling, both lowering their heads to stare at their toes, eyes watching noses, noses watching hearts, hanging their heads in silence.

Yang Qingling wore coarse linen clothes. His hair was entirely white, yet his waist and posture remained extraordinarily straight, like a blade that could flash with cold light at any moment. The old man said nothing. His wise gaze swept over the two children. After a long, long time, he unexpectedly sighed and said in a deep voice, "You risked your life to flee down the mountain back then. What have you come crawling back for now?"