Food Immortal Master, Section 5

For Pei Ye, who had read very little, an uncommon character like "quail" was certainly not something he saw often. A single encounter would leave an impression, but this impression was far too vague. He racked his brains for a long time and still could not remember.

Yet precisely because he had read so little, there were only so many books it could have been. It certainly was not in the two primers at home, so he had most likely seen it in the county office, where Uncle Lin had let him come and read stories.

He could look through them once he returned to the county office.

On his way back, Pei Ye tried several more incantations and hand seals to activate this supposed "fruit," but none produced any response. Only when he felt he was becoming as addled and mystical as Old Xiangzi did he let the matter rest.

He crossed the main street into the southern part of town and soon returned to the familiar alley.

When he reached his door, Pei Ye did not go inside. Instead, he walked straight past it to the neighboring courtyard gate.

Besides fetching the wine and medicine, Pei Ye had two things to do at home. First, the river flowed east one day and west the next: now he wanted Old Xiangzi to give him a detailed account of how "Big Ears became an immortal." Second, he wanted to ask Grandpa Yue whether he knew anything about the symbol.

The broken wooden gate had no latch, only a rope tying it shut. Pei Ye pulled it free, pushed open the gate, and strode inside.

The already cramped courtyard was a jumble of clutter, with only a narrow path left leading to the house.

"Old Xiangzi!" Pei Ye called, but no one answered.

Pei Ye walked up to the little house. As soon as he pushed open the door, a strong, damp, stuffy smell of mold struck him. A cloud of black dust rose from the floor-the scattered incense ash that had been trodden black.

The tiny room resembled some uncanny Buddhist shrine. Patches of greasy grime stained the Laughing Buddha in the center, smaller statues of arhats and bodhisattvas lay toppled on the table, and two extinguished incense stubs remained in the burner.

The Three Pure Ones, the sages Confucius and Mencius, Lord Guan, the God of Wealth, Patriarch Lü, the Kitchen God, and others were piled in a corner. Everything one could want was there, though many had rotted, some were speckled with mold, and even the few relatively intact statues were coated in thick dust.

The little house had only three rooms. Pei Ye opened the doors and found them all empty. One was piled with miscellaneous junk; another held a bed board propped on stones, with a quilt spread over it, slick with a layer of grease.

Chapter 8: Sword tassel

The incense burner on the bedside table caught Pei Ye's eye. It was much cleaner than the one before the Laughing Buddha outside and had clearly been wiped down. Three little piles of pale incense ash covered its contents. Pei Ye pinched up a little to examine it; this, too, was from the last couple of days.

Two old prayer slips also lay on the table. He must have asked someone to write them long ago, and now had simply moved them here from before the Buddha statue. One read, "Make money and eat meat"; the other, "May Miaomiao's husband's family treat her well."

There was no divine statue before the slips, only that crooked symbol carved into the tabletop, with a small bronze cup set in front of it.

Pei Ye reached out and picked it up. The little cup was of the same design as the four left in the woods. It must have been the vessel Old Xiangzi said had held Immortal Water.

He tucked the cup into his belt pouch and looked again. Half a bowl of vegetable soup sat beside the bed, leftovers from breakfast. Clearly, Old Xiangzi had not returned home since they parted yesterday afternoon.

His hope of questioning Old Xiangzi in detail had come to nothing. Pei Ye left the little courtyard with a grim face.

Back in his own courtyard, the old man still had not woken. Frail as he was, he had always slept a great deal.

Pei Ye drew his sword, turned the blade sideways, and made a cut across his forehead. Then he went to the water jar and bent down to examine himself closely in its reflection.

The blood seeping from his forehead obscured the pattern, but when he wiped it clean and gently parted the wound, the symbol seemed to have retreated a little deeper. It remained branded into his flesh.

If he stripped away the skin, it would grow on the flesh; if he cut away the flesh, it would probably mark the bone. This seemed not to be some foreign object, but something generated by his own flesh and blood.

Was this a brand left by a god?

The cold damp of the autumn rain seemed to touch his skin for the first time. As the chill rose, so did the anger of being treated like a chicken or duck with a straw marker stuck in it for sale. Pei Ye abruptly raised his head, as though to meet someone's gaze.

But only the mottled gray-white sky pressed gloomily down. Bean-sized raindrops fell straight into his eyes. Pei Ye did not flinch, letting them strike until his eyeballs ached faintly.

After a long while, Pei Ye murmured, "It seems all you know how to do is order dishes."

Pei Ye prepared the meal as usual, carried it into the room, and patted the old man awake. He had barely helped him sit up when the old man sniffed and said hoarsely, "Why do I smell blood? Where are you hurt?"

As he fed him, Pei Ye recounted last night's events in detail.

The old man raised his deep-set eye sockets, and the places where his eyebrows should have grown creased.

"Do you know this symbol?"

"The Torchworld Cult."

"The Torchworld Cult?" Pei Ye startled. "You've heard of them?"

"Only heard of them. Never dealt with them," the old man said. "Evil demons and heretics. Fifty years ago, they caused several great calamities in the southwest, and the Immortal Platform devoted its efforts to wiping them out. Since even that Shen Yanping doesn't recognize it, the Immortal Platform must have judged this evil cult reduced to ash and smoke, and stopped sending information about it to the local Chang Jian."

"But now the dead ashes have flared back to life. What does this cult do?"

"Since it's a cult, naturally it serves its god. I don't know the particulars either. To tell the truth, by the time I was roaming the martial world, they were already an entry in the Immortal Platform's ledger of achievements. I missed the days when they stirred up wind and waves." The old man slowly raised his arm. The moment his hand lost its support, it began trembling, until it settled on Pei Ye's forearm. "Have they set their sights on you now?"

"Yes. But it's nothing too serious. The officials have already requested reinforcements from the prefecture."

The old man shook his head. "A blaze kindled only after fifty years lying dormant-will it be so easily extinguished?"

Pei Ye had no answer.

"Let's hope this is merely one last attempt before their dying breath. But you would still do well not to underestimate your enemy."

Pei Ye nodded heavily, then asked, "Grandpa Yue, have you heard of 'Quail Head'?"

"What?"

Pei Ye described his dream.

The old man furrowed his bare brows and shook his head.

Pei Ye felt a little disappointed. He had thought the old man might have some advice.

The old man's dark eye sockets seemed able to pierce the heart. "Why ask about this? Is something weighing on you?"

Pei Ye fell silent for a moment and did not answer.

He did indeed have many feelings he wanted to pour out.

There was his wariness of Black Chi, for instance. The Torchworld Cult's interest in him had a clear explanation: his dantian seed was better, and he was one of the twelve sacrifices. But why had that black chi chosen him alone? What purpose did it harbor?

And there was the anger he had no choice but to clamp down with reason. He had to cower and hide from those villains like a rabbit avoiding ravenous wolves, because they had slaughtered his friends and family, and he would be next.

But in the end, he said nothing. The old man before him was not some lofty master living in seclusion beyond the world, like those in storybooks. He was merely a pitiful worm fallen into the mud, and neither his frailty nor his helplessness was feigned.

"Nothing. We can talk once this is over. I'm spending tonight at the county office. The officials will protect us there," Pei Ye said, changing the subject. "I made extra food. Serve yourself when it's time to eat. I'll be back tomorrow."

The old man slowly nodded.

The youth headed for the door, but the old man suddenly said, "Little Ye."

"What?"

"Before a fierce tiger's eyes, there are no ravines."

"...Mm."

Pei Ye returned to his own room, went to the wardrobe, moved aside the clothes, and took a sword case from a hidden compartment.

He undid the clasps. A longsword lay inside.

It was neither a treasured blade nor a divine sword, merely a good sword.

It was the prize he had won at fourteen, when he first took victory at the Mid-Autumn Martial Meet. Its workmanship was solid and sturdy: a rosewood scabbard wrapped in cowhide, a hilt tightly wound with fine red cord, and a hundred-forged blade that gleamed like rippling river water in the sunlight. Every detail was well made and comfortable in the hand.

Pei Ye could not bear to wear it down and had never used it for his daily sword practice. By his reckoning, it had not left the courtyard in almost two years.

As he lifted it from the case, the tassel hanging from its pommel brushed the back of his hand. Pei Ye paused.

The tassel was intricately braided from blue-green silk, with a small blue-green jade cylinder attached. Pei Ye knew sixteen tiny characters were engraved on it: "Grateful for your fragrant virtue, a heart hidden in jade; crane's bones and bamboo's resolve, never falling from the azure clouds." He had to bring it right up to his eyes to read them.

Lin Jue had gone to great trouble to braid it for his birthday the year before last. His dantian seed had only recently been injured then, and the girl often visited, cautiously offering comfort and encouragement. The tassel had looked just right on the sword, and both of them had been delighted. To prove he had not abandoned himself to despair, Pei Ye had demonstrated the swordsmanship Grandpa Yue taught him on the spot. Though it possessed only the outward form, it was already sharp and graceful enough to flush the girl's little face with excitement.

If he truly had to face an enemy now, however, the sword tassel would be something of an encumbrance. Pei Ye gently untied it and put it safely away.

He rummaged through the wardrobe again and changed into a clean, practical outfit, replacing his straw sandals with boots. He held the sword in his hand and rolled the wine and medicine into a bundle.

As he left, the willow twigs before the courtyard brushed his cheek. Pei Ye irritably swept them aside and strode north.

Chapter 9: On martial arts

When Pei Ye reached the county office, Chang Zhiyuan had not yet returned. Shen Yanping sat in the courtyard, cleaning and honing his slender, thin-bladed sword, while Feng Zhi crouched nearby examining a large halberd and a suit of heavy armor brought from the Armory.

"If you put that on, you probably won't even touch the hem of his clothes."

"I couldn't anyway. With this on, at least I can take a couple more hits."

Shen Yanping shook his head with a laugh.

"Damn it, it's been unused so long the cords have rotted-boy, you're just in time. Tie these two armor plates together."

Pei Ye crouched beside the two men and leaned his sword against a stone stool with a clang.

Feng Zhi glanced up. "If we really lose, you'd best not even draw that sword. Flee straight into the deep mountains and head toward the prefectural city. You'll still have a thread of hope."

Shen Yanping sighed softly. "Even if one person escapes, it only means someone else dies in his place, just like last night..."

Pei Ye asked, "Are you worried that man will act early?"

"The runners just reported that there's still no sign of anyone being taken where Lord Chang is. But who knows whether he's waiting for us to gather everyone in town with talent, then choosing seven of them?" Shen Yanping shook his head. "We know too little about the enemy to take precautions. The most dangerous stretch will probably be the hour or two after we gather everyone at the county office, before Commandant Jing arrives."

Pei Ye pressed his lips together. "I can help fight the enemy too."

Before Shen Yanping could speak, Feng Zhi looked up with a frown. "Didn't you fail to break your seed?"

"Yes," Pei Ye said. "But I know a sword technique. It might be of some use."

"..." Feng Zhi rolled his eyes. "Young people always have this sort of idiotic confidence."

Shen Yanping smiled, then lowered his brows and grew solemn. "Thank you for your courage and benevolence, young hero Pei. But if you do your utmost to protect yourself and keep the murderer from succeeding, that alone will be a victory for us all."

Pei Ye nodded in silence.

Then Shen Yanping's brows relaxed, and he smiled again. "Actually, the situation isn't quite so dire. We're merely worrying too much. If the enemy could abduct people ahead of time, the best approach would be to take all twelve at once, then hide deep in the mountains and perform the ritual over three days. Judging by the present circumstances, they most likely can only commune with some mysterious power while performing the ritual, and thereby identify their targets. By then, Commandant Jing will already be here."

In truth, that was indeed the objective situation at present. Feng Zhi and Shen Yanping were simply like examination candidates who finished their papers full of confidence, only to grow anxious before the results were posted. The slightest possibility of something unexpected was enough to leave them fretting.

Pei Ye hesitated, then cupped his hands. "I have little knowledge or experience, but may I ask: once this commandant arrives, is he certain to resolve the danger?"

This time, not only did Shen Yanping smile, but the corners of Feng Zhi's mouth lifted too.

Shen Yanping said, "Lord Lin's Meridian Tree had five growths. Judging by the traces, this murderer should have seven-a rare expert indeed. But Commandant Jing was already honing his skills in the eight-growth Meridian Tree realm ten years ago. At the beginning of this year, he finally achieved Mystic Crane Drapes Its Wings. Now we must respectfully address him as a grandmaster."

Pei Ye was taken aback. That really did make it a certainty.

To discuss the "dantian seed" and the "Meridian Tree," one had to begin at the beginning and first clarify the principles of martial arts.

Whether in a martial school, a family home, a sect, or the army, the first lesson for an ordinary person beginning cultivation was always "What are martial arts?"

What were martial arts? To ordinary people, the answer was simply "being able to fight." Someone like Pei Ye, who could wield blades and swords, leap over roofs and scale walls, and usually win his fights, counted as a "first-rate expert" in a small county town. But plainly speaking, this still amounted to no more than greater strength, longer jumps, faster reactions, and the skill born of years spent practicing with weapons.

"True martial arts... are something that can turn you into another kind of person." Pei Ye remembered Grandpa Yue saying that.