Chapter 4: Descending the mountain

Dai Shenggao saw that Liu Xiaolou understood, so he didn’t say anything more. He simply nodded. “That’s right. The number one arrow in southern Xiang. His closed door cultivation ended in failure; he never made it out alive. So Boss Wang’s calling in everyone to raid the manor. I’ve been sent to deliver the hero posts. Are you going or not?” Liu Xiaolou stayed quiet for a while, thinking. “I remember my teacher once said... Zhang Xianbai was one of the most promising outer disciples of Dongyang Mountain...” “That’s exactly why we have to move before Dongyang Mountain sends people to hold their memorial,” Dai Shenggao said. “Time’s tight. It happens tomorrow night. Your teacher used to take these invitations, but this time...” Liu Xiaolou didn’t answer. He just stared silently at the grave. Six months ago, his teacher, Master Sanxuan, had accepted a hero’s post. That same post had led him to this grave. It was Dai Shenggao who’d brought the body back. Dai Shenggao spoke again. “Once you take the hero’s post, your life’s your own responsibility... It’s your call.” Liu Xiaolou shook his head slowly, took a deep breath, and finally reached out to take the post, holding it tight in his palm. It was a small rectangular block of wood, with a yellowish-purple hue and three characters carved into it: Hero’s Post. The writing shimmered faintly, fading in and out. It was Boss Wang’s signature technique, nearly impossible to forge. “You need the post to get in?” “That’s right. Keep it on you and don’t lose it. You won’t be let into the mountain without it.” He paused, then sighed. “I still don’t know if giving this to you was the right thing or not...” Liu Xiaolou managed a slight smile. “It’s been half a year since I made any progress.” Dai Shenggao gave a small nod, said nothing more, rose to his feet, and strode down the mountain. Liu Xiaolou watched him leave, then sat quietly in front of the grave for a while. At last, he respectfully kowtowed three times. “Teacher, please watch over me on this journey.” Then he got up and returned to his thatched hut. He strapped the inherited Sanxuan Sword onto his back, rummaged under the bed for his last few silver coins, and tucked them away. With his straw hat on, he stepped out the door. Jinping Mountain was nearly three hundred li away. He had to get there by tomorrow night. There was no time to waste. Just outside the courtyard, a large white goose stood by the roadside, wings slightly spread, looking up at him. Liu Xiaolou reached out and stroked its head. “If I don’t make it back... then the Sanxuan Sect will be no more. When that time comes, find your own path.” By the time he descended Qianzhu Ridge, the rain was coming down in sheets. The Wunest River swelled fast, roaring like a dragon as it crashed downstream. His little bamboo hat was useless against the downpour. He was soaked through in minutes.. But at the second level of Qi Refinement, he didn’t fear the wind or rain. It only slowed him down. He followed the river for more than four hours before finally leaving Wulong Mountain behind. Ahead were fields crisscrossed with muddy paths. The rain had eased a little, but it hadn’t stopped. Liu Xiaolou had gone up the mountain with his teacher at age eight and spent the next ten years cultivating there. He knew the roads around here like the back of his hand. Picking up the pace, he walked south along the narrow paths between rice paddies. The sky was dark. He was hungry. Eventually, he reached an old earthen-walled farmhouse and knocked. “Uncle Tian?” An old farmer opened the door and let him in. “Little Immortal, are you leaving the mountain?” “Yes. Just passing by, hoping Uncle Tian might spare a bite to eat.” “Of course, of course.” Uncle Tian brought out a bowl of millet rice and a piece of salted vegetable. He sat with Liu Xiaolou as he ate, watching him. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen Master Sanxuan. Is he doing well?” Liu Xiaolou stirred the rice in his bowl with his chopsticks for a while before quietly replying, “My teacher has passed on.” Uncle Tian gave a quiet “Ah,” and said no more. He simply kept him company in silence as Liu Xiaolou finished his meal. At some point, he suddenly smiled. “Earlier this year, Fairy Jingzhen from Xiushan took a liking to my Ah-Zhen and brought her off to train in cultivation.” Liu Xiaolou paused, a bit taken aback. “Xiushan... Fairy Jingzhen... Ah-Zhen’s really lucky.” Uncle Tian smiled. “Thanks to you, little immortal. If you hadn’t been there back then, she would’ve been swept away in that flood…” Liu Xiaolou shook his head. “Uncle Tian, it was just something I did in passing. Let’s not bring it up again. Xiushan is a good place, and Fairy Jingzhen... my teacher said she’s truly one of the greats... very high up.” He paused. “So now that Ah-Zhen’s gone with her, how have you been? Didn’t go with them?” Uncle Tian waved his hand. “No need. I’m doing just fine on my own; life’s simpler this way! And besides, Xiushan’s five hundred li from here. What would an old man like me do there? These fields... who would take care of them? My last name is Tian. Guess I was born to stick close to the soil. Anyway, before she left, Fairy Jingzhen said Ah-Zhen could come home once a year.” Silence settled between them again. Liu Xiaolou nodded slowly, then placed down a little over one tael of scattered silver coins. “Uncle Tian, I have to keep moving. I’ll head out now.” Uncle Tian rushed after him. “That’s too much! You don’t need to pay this much!” Without turning back, Liu Xiaolou waved over his shoulder. “Next time I come, I won’t pay anything at all.” Leaving Wulong Mountain behind, Liu Xiaolou traveled under the stars and moon, pushing himself hard. At the second level of Qi Refinement, he wasn’t necessarily faster than the average martial guard from a wealthy family, but the true qi circulating through his dantian gave him endurance. By the time night fell the next day, he finally reached Jinping Mountain in southern Xiang. At the mountain entrance, a blind old man stopped him. “Where are you headed, young man?” Liu Xiaolou glanced at the wooden token hanging on the old man’s chest; it was a hero’s post, just like his. He quickly pulled out his own and held it up. “I’ve come from Wulong Mountain to take part in the Heroes' Gathering.” The old man sniffed the air, then asked, “Who gave you the post?” “Wanderer Dai,” Liu Xiaolou replied. The old man nodded and pointed to a high ridge off to the right. “Enter there. When you see the jagged rocks, climb North Mountain, and head for North Cliff.” Liu Xiaolou gave a polite bow, then followed the direction into the mountains. After walking a few li, he saw the path grow rough and rocky, just as described. He began climbing, the moon rising at his back. Before long, he reached the summit. There, standing half-hidden behind a massive boulder, was Dai Shenggao, peering down toward the valley below. When he saw Liu Xiaolou, he waved him over. Liu Xiaolou joined him at the cliff’s edge. Below, the valley was cloaked in pitch-black darkness, the terrain nearly impossible to make out. Only the silhouettes of distant hills took shape in the moonlight. Down in that shadowed basin, scattered pinpricks of light flickered. “That’s the Zhang clan’s Jinping Manor,” Dai Shenggao said quietly. Liu Xiaolou gazed at it for a moment. “Senior, which groups have answered the call?” Dai Shenggao pointed to the surrounding mountains. “Over to the east are the heroes of the Mengdong River. In the southern valley, the Seventh Branch of the Pai Sect. The western slope has the Cloud Mountain Gang. The southeastern and southwestern passes are covered by the local magnates, Gao Feiyan and Wan Jianxin. Up here on the north side, we’ve got brothers from the north.” “Anyone else from Wulong Mountain?” Liu Xiaolou asked. “Time was tight,” Dai Shenggao replied. “Didn’t get a chance to invite many. Just you and the Dragon Mountain Wanderer. You’re the first one to arrive.” Liu Xiaolou scanned the hills. It was hard to tell how many cultivators had gathered among the trees and cliffs. But in the manor below, the Zhang clan clearly had no idea disaster was coming. The lights still burned bright inside, the whole place glowing in the darkness like a feast laid out on the dining table, waiting to be shared. That night, more and more figures gathered on North Cliff. Over thirty heroes from the north. It was clear how deep Dai Shenggao’s connections ran. In the second half of the night, the Dragon Mountain Wanderer finally arrived. The man’s beard was so thick you could barely make out his face. He claimed that cultivating his mysterious techniques to the extreme had changed his appearance, giving him a "dragon-head visage"—though who knew if that was true. Though he and Liu Xiaolou were both rogue cultivators from Wulong Mountain, they had never met before. When he heard Liu Xiaolou was a disciple of Master Sanxuan, he gave a small nod. “Senior Brother Sanxuan....he was a good man.” Liu Xiaolou cupped his hands in respectful thanks.