Yi Shuyuan did not stay in the city. Carrying his wine flask and oil-paper packet, he wandered through streets and alleys, straying ever farther from the busy districts until he left the city altogether.
Soon, Yi Shuyuan reached the Bamboo Grove, one of the fighting grounds of the Western White Tiger Position.
The Bamboo Grove was now a scene of devastation. The once fairly dense bamboo had mostly snapped or broken, and the place could no longer really be called a "bamboo grove arena."
Of course, Moon Province had no shortage of bamboo, so finding another Bamboo Grove would have been easy. It would simply have been a little farther from Moon City, and they had decided not to bother.
Thus, the Bamboo Grove arena had taken its final bow early. All that remained was an ordinary grove, badly damaged.
Thinking this, Yi Shuyuan swept his gaze over the broken bamboo. Bloodstains still marked some of the stalks.
Perhaps many martial artists had spilled their blood in this grove.
But bamboo was exceptionally good at growing. The damage looked severe, yet once the spring shoots emerged, the Bamboo Grove would soon recover.
Naturally, some intact bamboo still remained.
Yi Shuyuan sprang lightly upward, his body drifting like a feather, and landed atop a tall, sturdy stalk.
The bamboo tip immediately bowed beneath him, carrying his body down in a deep arc.
Yet Yi Shuyuan lay there securely, letting the stalk sway back and forth as though he were riding a swing.
"Heh, that little fellow was swinging before, too, wasn't he?"
Murmuring to himself, Yi Shuyuan recalled the hwamei on the bitter bamboo branch at Broad South Mountain. It had swayed just like this.
Lying there beneath the stars, Yi Shuyuan opened his oil-paper packet, took a sip of wine,