The Northern Wind

Dawn watch, North Mountain Gate.

It was not yet fully light. Oil still burned inside the stone lanterns on either side of the mountain gate, their flames swaying unsteadily in the morning wind.

When Li Xuan arrived, Shi Yong was already there.

He was squatting on the stone steps with a bundle spread open before him, counting the things inside.

He picked up each item for a glance, set it down, then picked it up for a second look.

This was Shi Yong's habit whenever he was nervous. Li Xuan had seen old soldiers do the same in Iron Wall City—the more nervous they were, the more they needed to confirm that they had something in their hands.

"You didn't sleep last night?" Li Xuan asked.

Shi Yong did not even look up. "I slept, but I woke up several times. I barely slept well."

Shadow walked out from inside the mountain gate, carrying two waterskins. He tossed one to Shi Yong and handed the other to Su Ying.

He had changed into a dark-gray martial outfit today. There was an extra dagger at his waist, and another was tucked into his boot.

He glanced at Li Xuan, his gaze lingering for an instant on the Python Scale Armor over Li Xuan's chest.

"Where are the people from the Shadow Division?" Shi Yong asked.

"They're here." Shadow jerked his chin toward the inside of the gate.

Someone walked out of the morning mist.

He was not tall, half a head shorter than Li Xuan, and around forty years old. His square face and rough skin made him look as though he had been blasted by the northern wind for many years.

Wearing gray-black leather armor, he walked up to Li Xuan and stopped.

"Tie Han," he said. His voice sounded like sandpaper scraping across an iron plate.

Shi Yong looked him up and down. "What weapon do you use?"

Tie Han raised his right hand. A scar ran across his palm from the base of his thumb to his wrist, like a centipede.

He clenched his fist, released it, then clenched it again.

Li Xuan noticed that when Tie Han clenched his fist, his knuckles turned white. When he released it, the blood returned very slowly. It was an old injury; his meridians had been damaged.

"My fists," Tie Han said.

Yun Qingxuan arrived last. She had changed back into her sect's blue robes, with the Crimson Sword hanging at her waist. Her hair was tied up and secured with a wooden hairpin. Unlike usual, she also had a bulging bundle on her back, stuffed with quite a few things.

"Let's go." Without waiting for anyone to respond, she stepped down the stone stairs first.

The six of them followed the mountain path downward.

After half an hour, the path widened. The red pines on either side gradually thinned, replaced by low shrubs and withered yellow grass. The wind came from the north, carrying the scent of sand and earth. It was dry and faintly cool.

Tie Han suddenly spoke. "How far can you control that astral energy outside your body?"

"Within thirty feet. Any farther, and it disperses."

"Not enough," Tie Han said. "Gurqin's attack range is at least ninety feet."

Shadow cut in from the side. "The Shadow Division's assessment is sixty to seventy-five feet. Ninety feet is his limit. He can't maintain it for long."

From behind them, Shi Yong muttered, "Can you speak like normal people? Thirty feet, ninety feet—when we get there, won't we still have to fight?"

Su Ying said softly, "Knowing the enemy's range in advance lets us arrange our positions."

Shi Yong turned around and looked at her as though he did not recognize her.

Su Ying felt a little awkward under his gaze and lowered her head.

On the evening of the third day, they reached Stone Rubble Beach, where they had camped last time.

"We'll spend the night here," Li Xuan said.

Shadow made a circuit of the surroundings. When he returned, his expression was not good.

"There are footprints," he said. "They aren't ours. They're less than three days old."

Li Xuan followed him to inspect them. On the northern side of Stone Rubble Beach, several faint footprints marked a patch of soft, sandy ground.

They were not the boot prints of the barbarians. They were cloth shoes, with the same sole pattern as the cloth shoes worn by sect disciples.

"How many people?"

"At least three." Shadow squatted and measured the length and depth of the prints with his fingers. "One man and two women. The man's strides are long and heavy. The women walked one in front of the other. The one behind left shallower prints, as though she was following."

Yun Qingxuan came over and glanced down. "People from the sect? What are they doing in the Northern Territory?"

No one could answer.

Li Xuan stood up and gazed north.

The sky had darkened. Beneath the gray-blue canopy, the outline of Stone Rubble Beach gradually blurred.

Li Xuan knew someone was ahead of them.

"We'll pick up the pace tomorrow," he said. "We'll reach Black Stone Market before dark."

That night, the wind grew stronger.

The stove Shi Yong had built was blown out twice. It was only lit successfully on the third try. The flames staggered in the wind, barely able to heat the dry rations.

Li Xuan took Qin Lie's records from his bundle. They were a thick stack tied with hemp cord.

He untied the cord and flipped through several pages by the firelight.

He had read most of it before: Gurqin's origins, cultivation method, known weaknesses, and the details of the battle thirty years ago.

But several pages at the back were new. They were Qin Lie's handwritten notes, the writing hurried and uneven in ink, as though written at different times.

"There are three levels beneath the Black Abyss. The first has Walking Corpses and Wolf Soul, the second has Stone Wolf, and the third level..." The writing suddenly broke off. On the next line, the strokes were even more frantic. "I went down to the third level, but I couldn't see clearly. There is something there. Something older than Gurqin."

Li Xuan's finger stopped on that line.

Older than Gurqin?

He remembered what Xiao Tieyi had said in the Discussion Hall: "There's more beneath the Black Abyss than Gurqin."

"What did you find?" Yun Qingxuan's voice came from across the fire.

Li Xuan handed her the page.

Yun Qingxuan took it and read for several breaths, her brows drawing together.

"Elder Xiao said something similar." She handed the paper back. "But he said he would tell you after you returned."

"So they all knew, but simply didn't tell me." Li Xuan folded the paper and tucked it back into the bundle.

"It wasn't that they didn't want to tell you," Yun Qingxuan said. "It would have been useless. You can't even defeat Gurqin right now. Knowing what lies below would only distract you."

Li Xuan said nothing.

He was thinking about Qin Lie's words: "I couldn't see clearly."

Someone capable of dispersing Gurqin's physical form had entered the third level, yet retreated without seeing anything clearly.

What kind of thing could make even Qin Lie wary?

A log in the fire snapped, sending several sparks flying.

Yun Qingxuan rose and walked over to Li Xuan's side before sitting down beside him.

"About General Wang Meng," she began, her voice lowered so only Li Xuan could hear. "I've never asked you. What did he say to you before he charged out that night?"

Li Xuan was silent for several breaths.

"He said, 'A son of the Northern Territory may die in battle, but may never flee.'"

Yun Qingxuan nodded. The wind swept over them, scattering several strands of hair at her temple. She did not tuck them back.

"I knew him for ten years," she said. "Since he was still a deputy general. Every time the barbarians invaded southward, he was the first man onto the city wall. Iron Wall City held for thirteen years. His family sent him twenty-three letters, and he never replied to a single one."

She paused.

"It wasn't that he didn't want to. He didn't dare. If he replied, he would think of home. If he thought of home, he would be afraid to die."

Firelight lit her face, and Li Xuan saw a trace of a smile at the corners of her eyes.

"Did you come this time for him?" Li Xuan asked.

Yun Qingxuan did not answer.

She stood, brushed the dust from her robes, then returned to her place and sat down, closing her eyes.

Li Xuan removed the Python Scale Armor, folded it, and used it as a pillow.

The wind blew all night without stopping.

On the fourth day, they set out before dawn.

Black Stone Market was even quieter than last time.

There was no one in the streets, no dogs, and even the wind had stopped. The town office stood open and empty. The old man was nowhere to be seen. The teacup on the table remained, but the tea had dried up, leaving a layer of brown tea stains on the bottom.

"Where is everyone?" Shi Yong stood at the entrance, peering inside.

Li Xuan walked to the rear courtyard. Drag marks crossed the ground from the courtyard entrance all the way to the back wall. At its base was a hole—not large, but wide enough for a person to crawl through.

Shadow squatted beside the hole and reached in to feel around. "Fresh. It happened last night."

Li Xuan looked at Tie Han.

Tie Han walked over and squatted down, reaching his hand into the hole. After a while, he pulled it out. A layer of black, viscous liquid coated his palm.

"Gurqin has been here," Tie Han said. "Or something belonging to him has."

Li Xuan went to the hole and peered inside.

It was pitch-black. Nothing could be seen, but a faint, cool breeze drifted out of it, carrying a rotten smell.

"Should we go in?" Shi Yong asked.

Li Xuan shook his head.

Qin Lie's records had mentioned that tunnels like this were dug by Gurqin's "tentacles." They led to underground rivers, but were so narrow that a person could not turn around inside.

If Gurqin was waiting within, going in would be walking straight to one's death.

"Continue north," he said. "We'll reach the riverbed from last time before dark."

The six of them crossed Black Stone Market and headed north.

They had walked for less than half an hour when Shadow suddenly stopped and raised his hand, signaling everyone to halt.

Ahead, a person stood on the dry riverbed.

Black robes. A bronze mask.

Ghost Face.

Shi Yong swung his heavy saber across his body and was about to charge. Li Xuan reached out and pressed down on his shoulder.

"Don't move," Li Xuan said.

Ghost Face stood in the middle of the riverbed with his back to them. The wind lifted his black robes, revealing a short blade at his waist.

He turned around.

The bronze mask gleamed coldly beneath the gray-white daylight. The eyes beneath it fixed on Li Xuan.

"You arrived faster than I expected," Ghost Face said. His voice was the same as last time, hoarse as metal scraping against metal. "But you're also weaker than I expected."

Shi Yong tightened his grip on his saber until his knuckles turned white.

"What are you doing here?"

"Showing you the way," Ghost Face said. "Gurqin knows you're coming. He's waiting for you at the Black Abyss. But if you keep traveling like this, you'll have no strength left to fight by the time you reach it."

He took a beast hide from his sleeve and threw it over. It unfurled in midair before landing on the ground—a map, more detailed than the Shadow Division's, marking every road, the locations of every barbarian camp, and every source of water and hiding place.

"Take this route." Ghost Face pointed to a winding line on the map. "You can reach the Black Abyss in three days. But you'll pass the White Wolf Tribe's altar on the way. There's something Gurqin raised there. You'll have to kill it to get past."

"Why are you helping us?" Yun Qingxuan asked.

Ghost Face looked at her. No expression could be seen beneath the bronze mask, but his head tilted slightly, as though examining her.

"Because I don't want Gurqin to win," he said.

Then he turned and walked north along the riverbed.

His black robes fluttered in the wind before gradually disappearing into the gray-white canopy.

Shi Yong picked up the map and turned it over several times. "Can we trust him?"

Li Xuan took the map and compared it with the Shadow Division's. The route Ghost Face had marked was indeed closer, but the places it passed through—the White Wolf Tribe's altar, Black Water Pool, and Broken Cliff—were all marked as "high-risk areas" by the Shadow Division.

"Trust half of it." Li Xuan folded the map and tucked it into his robes. "The route is usable, but when we reach the altar, we scout first and act afterward."

He raised his head and glanced at the sky. The gray-white clouds hung low, like a gigantic stone slab covering the sky. The northern wind carried the scent of sand and earth, thicker than yesterday.

"Move."

Six figures followed the dry riverbed northward.

Behind them, the outline of Black Stone Market gradually blurred and vanished into the windblown sand.