A heavy shower had already fallen that morning, yet the black clouds had not dispersed in the slightest. Instead, they grew thicker, until now they seemed unable to bear their accumulated burden and began to drizzle again.
Bitter wind and miserable rain, a shabby, cramped courtyard, a dry, gaunt jujube tree, a fearsome-looking paralyzed old man, and an old sword with a battered scabbard and faded finish-these made up the place where Pei Ye had lived for two years.
Willow branches trailing into the courtyard brushed his face in the wind. The boy casually broke off a length, pulled out its woody core, and held it between his lips, blowing a bright, lively whistle.
He raised his head. The sky swallowed the last trace of light.
Night had fallen.
Chapter 2: The Chi Dragon Dream
Anyone could see that a torrential downpour was gathering in heaven's mouth.
Wind escaped between its lips and teeth. The old jujube tree in the courtyard began to lean and groan. Pei Ye brought all the tables, stools, and baskets indoors, and before long, the rain came crashing down.
The sky and earth went dark, as though the world had overturned. Even during the fiercest midsummer storms of years past, rain this heavy had been rare. Pei Ye looked up with some concern. If it lasted too long, flooding would be inevitable.
"Go to bed early. Lamp oil's still rather dear," the old man rasped.
Pei Ye closed the door, shutting out the sound of rain, carried the old man back to bed, then settled down to rest on the other side.
A faint churning stirred in his chest and abdomen. Pei Ye frowned and placed the wine and medicine beside his bed, suspecting he might suffer an attack tonight.
But at last, he drifted into dreams with the downpour.
Raindrops battered the roof, the jujube tree, and the paving stones, their indistinguishable sounds blending together. In his sleep, Pei Ye returned once more to the noisy Martial Arts Hall of two years ago.
That had been the most fulfilling, satisfying stretch of his life. Together with boys his age, he had poured out sweat, pondered his fist techniques, and truly felt himself growing stronger bit by bit, proudly taking first place at the Mid-Autumn Martial Meet two years running.
But when his Dantian Seed failed to sprout, everything came crashing down.
The first step toward true proficiency in cultivation was to make the dantian seed "sprout." In all fairness, this step was not particularly dangerous.
But in a forest big enough, there would always be an unlucky bird.
His dantian seed ruptured, and the uncontrolled true qi ravaged his internal organs. The injury was not fatal; it merely felt, during an attack, as though a hundred cold iron needles were churning through his chest and abdomen. Nor had it entirely barred his path of cultivation. In five or ten years, his dantian seed might even heal on its own.
But treating the injury had undeniably exhausted the wealth his parents had left him. Even the house had to be sold. As he struggled to make a living and drank his medicine, growing thin and haggard, he also grew increasingly distant from his companions at the Martial Arts Hall, until he finally became a figure on the city's fringes, just like Old Xiangzi.
Pain and exhaustion often made it difficult for Pei Ye to sleep soundly. Strange, fantastical dreams always rose and fell in succession, but tonight's dream was continuous and steady.
The same familiar people were still at the Martial Arts Hall. The instructors were as stern and caring as ever, and the atmosphere was just as exuberant. This beautiful dream seemed ready to last until he woke.
But suddenly, everything vanished.
Nothing remained in the dream but a hazy void.
Pei Ye's consciousness fell away completely, with neither dreams nor self remaining.
A distant, boundless voice arose from nowhere, sounding both like a summons and a chant.
Like parents calling their child, like an emperor summoning his subject, like a deity bestowing favor upon a believer-no summons could have held greater power.
In the deep, silent darkness, Pei Ye's body abruptly sat up, opening a pair of vacant eyes.
He left the bed like a walking corpse, muttering indistinct words as though talking in his sleep, lifted the door bar, and stepped outside.
The downpour still raged outside.
His bare feet stepped into muddy water. Cold rain splashed over his skin, and the little warmth he had carried from beneath the covers vanished in an instant. His entire body was soaked at once.
Seemingly unaware of anything, Pei Ye walked blankly toward the courtyard gate, pushed it open, and stepped out. The bitterly cold alley was deserted.
Leaving the alley and reaching the street, Pei Ye gradually quickened his pace. A mindless fervor slowly rose in his hollow eyes, like that of a pilgrim.
Ahead... just ahead...
He suddenly raised his left hand stiffly, lifting his little finger and pressing his thumb against the lower joint of his middle finger, forming a strange, reverent hand seal beneath his chin.
He continued forward like a walking corpse. Ahead, two figures in white robes turned their heads and quietly waited for him.
Pei Ye knew nothing of what was happening outside. In the deepest reaches of his consciousness, he was still having that beautiful dream, still at the Martial Arts Hall, with boys his age shouting as they sparred around him.
But suddenly, a terrifying roar rang out, and a storm of blood and gore struck him in the face. The Martial Arts Hall's floor and walls shattered. A shadow descended, as though night had fallen in an instant. Pei Ye looked up in horror. A vast, bloody maw had appeared from nowhere and engulfed them all, its enormous, sharp teeth thicker than pillars.
Just as the giant jaws were about to close, at that hairbreadth moment, a black chi dragon appeared beneath him and carried him out of the maw, soaring into the clouds.
Pei Ye looked down in astonishment. In a dream where everything was abstract and indistinct, every minute detail of this dragon was visible. It was so real that it seemed to have come from another world.
Its enormous body gave him a solid sense of support. Beneath his palms, it felt cold, hard, smooth, and supple. Each scale resembled jet-black glass. The long mane around its neck streamed in the wind, countless resilient yet soft strands brushing Pei Ye's face.
If I plucked one out, it ought to make an excellent bowstring, Pei Ye inexplicably thought.
"It's right behind us," the dragon suddenly said.
"What?" Pei Ye was bewildered.
"Look back."
Pei Ye looked back and could not help crying out. The bloody maw was almost pressed against his face, and the black dragon's tail had already reached its throat.
"Can you stop it?" the black dragon asked.
Me?!
You mean me?!
Pei Ye looked down at himself. He held no immortal sword capable of cleaving a mountain in one stroke, nor did he wear divine armor wreathed in radiant light.
He was not even wearing anything but underpants.
Tonight's dream was far too absurd.
"Think of something," the dragon said.
Think of something? Think of what? What could I possibly think of?
Pei Ye glanced at his empty hands, then looked back at the bloody maw drawing ever closer. Hesitantly, he reached out and gripped the long mane around the black dragon's neck, venturing, "Giddyup!"
"..."
"..."
"I've already done all I can, and now this is your battlefield." The dragon's tone remained calm. "If one prospers, both prosper; if one falls, both fall. I help you, and then you help me. Agreed?"
"...Agreed."
"Good. Then I will release you from tonight's 'divine favor.' At the same time, the fruit [Quail Head] will be available to you for twenty-four hours. It can counter 'Immortal Lord Spirit Summoning.' You must find a way to use it-the rest will depend entirely on you."
"What's Quail Head?" Pei Ye listened blankly as the written forms of those two words actually appeared in his mind. "Where do I find a way to use it?"
The black dragon gave something that was almost an answer: "The workings of fate."
As those words fell, the dream shattered with a crash.
Pei Ye woke, then froze in bewilderment.
When he had closed his eyes, he had been beneath warm covers. Now, opening them, he found himself standing in thick darkness, battered by a savage downpour.
His first thought was that the rain had washed his house down, and he wanted to jump up at once to do something about it. His second realization was that he was already standing. His third was the suspicion that he was still dreaming.
Only after struggling to absorb the shock of this gap in his memory did Pei Ye finally realize what had happened.
He might have been sleepwalking.
But... were the two men beside him sleepwalking too?
The two white-robed men carried eerie blue candle lamps, walking on either side of Pei Ye. Their flames were entirely unaffected by the wind and rain, burning slowly and quietly, as though in another time and space.
The instant he saw those two flames, Pei Ye realized things might not be so simple.
Chapter 3: The Rain-soaked Street
But when he stopped to examine the two men, they also discovered that he had regained consciousness.
Pei Ye frowned. "You two-"
He suddenly looked down in shock. Without any warning, a sharp threat had already reached his lower back. His muscles spasmed and contracted involuntarily, followed by the stabbing pain of a blade entering flesh. But before the coldly gleaming dagger could plunge deeper, Pei Ye clamped down hard on the man's wrist.
The man immediately followed with a knee strike, but Pei Ye drove his own knee into the man's stomach faster and harder. His left hand still held the enemy's knife hand, while he twisted his waist and smashed his right fist into the man's face. The man fell to the ground, throwing up a waist-high splash.
Another dagger stabbed toward him almost simultaneously, only half a body's length behind. Pei Ye did his best to turn aside. The dagger passed across his abdomen, leaving a bloody cut, but with his balance lost, he failed to avoid the kick that followed and was knocked to the ground.
Pei Ye was actually accustomed to fighting. To avoid being bullied in the streets and alleys, one needed a reliable pair of fists. But apart from killing that starving wolf when he was twelve, he had never encountered danger like this.
These two men struck viciously and decisively, their attacks ferocious. They were clearly hardened killers accustomed to fighting for their lives. This was Pei Ye's first time facing enemies in a battle to the death, yet he had already fallen into the disadvantage of being ambushed by both at once.
"There will always be more surprises." The old man's hoarse teachings during training rang in his ears again. "The martial world isn't an arena. Your enemies won't wait until you're ready to face them. When danger comes, you often won't even have a chance to draw your sword."
Right now, if he truly had a sword he could not draw, Pei Ye would have thanked heaven and earth even if he could only use it as an iron club.
The instant Pei Ye hit the ground, he rolled away without stopping to think. A moment later, the pursuing dagger stabbed into the spot he had just occupied. Before his body had risen, his hand had already caught the dagger-wielding wrist. Bent at the waist, his opponent could not straighten for a moment. Pei Ye kicked him off balance, then flipped sideways into the air and pinned him to the ground.
Pei Ye gave a low shout and abruptly exerted both arms, forcing the man's hand down and driving the dagger into his neck. The man's eyes bulged, and his arm muscles swelled as he resisted, but blood was already pouring from his throat.
The sound of a blade cutting through the wind arrived behind him with barely a moment to spare. Pei Ye rolled away awkwardly once more. When he straightened and looked up, his enemy had already charged before him. Blood from the nose mingled with tears on the face he had punched, its expression savage and hideous.
Another stab came. This time, Pei Ye could finally employ his practiced fighting techniques with somewhat more composure. He turned aside, trapped the enemy's arm beneath his armpit, and delivered two knee strikes. The man doubled over. Seizing the opportunity, Pei Ye released the arm, clamped a hand around the man's wrist joint, and twisted the dagger free. His other hand immediately seized the man's neck, driving him forward two steps and slamming him hard against the wall.
He raised his hand, aimed at the head, and struck. One punch! Two punches! Three punches!
The body in his grip slumped limply.
Pei Ye panted, his heart pounding like a rapid drumbeat. His arms and thighs simultaneously went weak as their tension drained away.
Pei Ye checked his injuries. Most were scrapes and bruises; only the knife wounds across his abdomen and lower back stood out, though neither was serious. But his repeated exertions after being injured had torn them somewhat, and blood now seeped out continuously. It had already soaked a large patch of his clothing, making the wounds look rather frightening.
Both wounds were difficult to bandage. Pei Ye wrapped them as best he could, then surveyed his surroundings by the firelight. He was beside the city wall, just outside the city.
Looking at the two corpses on the ground, Pei Ye truly could not understand where they had come from. He steadied his breathing and went to pick up the candle lamp, which was still burning steadily in the pooled water.
But as he bent down, the sight before his eyes froze him in place.
The flame lay embedded in the pooled water, forming an eerie blue mirror. Though falling rain constantly disturbed it, it still reflected Pei Ye's distorted image.
-A pale-faced boy with a bare torso, an eerie blue symbol burning upon his forehead.
Beginning at the same point, two Y-shaped lines extended toward the upper left and upper right. From the tips of each Y, further branches forked outward, growing toward the top, progressing from simple to complex. At a glance, it resembled a spray of cold, rigid, abstract flames.
There was no need to trace it again with a brush. This was the true, original form of the crude symbol on Old Xiangzi's forehead!
Pei Ye slowly raised his hand to touch it, but his forehead was smooth, without any change.
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