Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilderness Chapter Eleven: Tasting Blood

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Built against the mountainside, the manor sprawled broadly, shrouded by dense woods, its grandeur unmistakable.

Before him lay a gravel path winding off to either side. To the right, a courtyard wall blocked the view; following the path to the left, one could vaguely make out towering cliffs of stone.

Whose household was this?

Yu Ye hesitated beneath a young tree, his steps uncertain.

He had thought he was out hunting, yet they had sent him ahead to scout the way. Scouting was one thing, but to do so in such a furtive, clandestine manner—using signals of firelight, creeping like thieves—was another matter entirely.

Glancing back, Yu Ye sighed inwardly. Not far off, a string of shadowy figures lay sprawled atop the wall. Jiang Xiong and a dozen rough men watched him with the hungry fixedness of wolves. Now that he had become an accomplice, it was as though he had boarded a pirate ship—impossible to turn back, impossible to stay uninvolved.

With this thought, Yu Ye became exceedingly cautious. He crept along the path toward the left.

Snow lay heaped around the courtyard, but the path itself had been swept clean, leaving no traceable footprints behind.

Under cover of darkness, Yu Ye moved slowly forward.

From atop the wall, the others watched his every move.

“Feng Lao Qi, your brother isn’t old, but he’s got a clever way about him!”

“He’s a brother Jiang Xiong picked up.”

“No need to stand on ceremony, brother Qi. If you’re my brother’s man, you’re my brother too.”

“Hmph, none of this concerns me…”

As Yu Ye advanced, he kept a sharp eye on every rustling blade of grass, every shift of the wind. The wall was now far behind, yet he could still hear Jiang Xiong and Feng Lao Qi’s voices. Not only that, but his eyes seemed to have adapted to the gloom—he could distinguish the size and shape of rocks even several dozen feet away.

He went on another twenty or thirty paces.

Suddenly, Yu Ye crouched and drew his hunting knife.

At that instant, a black shadow hurtled toward him. Yu Ye sprang up and slashed with his blade. There was a brief, sharp yelp, and a heavy thud as something crashed to the ground.

A mongrel lay with its head split open, blood pooling, lifeless.

Yu Ye held his breath, heart pounding. In the act of killing the dog, he had been calm, decisive—the strike swift and clean. Yet staring at the dead animal, he couldn’t help but feel unsettled.

He was trespassing at night; if discovered or caught, the consequences were unimaginable.

The night, however, remained as silent as before.

Yu Ye sheathed his knife and quietly exhaled in relief.

After covering a hundred paces or more, he arrived at the base of the rocky mountain. A sheer wall of stone split by a mountain crevice, the gorge about twice the width of a man, yawned dark and unfathomable.

Yu Ye inspected the gorge and, finding nothing amiss, took a firestarter from his breast, coaxing a tiny flame to life.

Within moments, figure after figure appeared. Yu Ye knew Jiang Xiong and his men had come, so he stepped aside. Having finished scouting, he ought to steal away in the ensuing confusion. But as he moved, a hand seized his arm: “Lead the way—”

He was sent to scout, and now to lead?

Yu Ye stumbled forward, nearly falling, and before he could steady himself, he was spun around.

In a blink, he found himself within the gorge, its entrance blocked entirely by a mass of figures.

“Take this—”

A lit torch was thrust into his hand.

In the wavering light, strange faces loomed—some twisted and grotesque, others brimming with malice and greed. Jiang Xiong and Feng Lao Qi stood among them, radiating a menacing aura.

Yu Ye accepted the torch, his heart filled with trepidation.

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Though he had known hardship, he realized now he had grossly underestimated the darkness in men’s hearts.

More torches were lit, illuminating the surroundings. The gorge was twenty or thirty yards deep, with steep cliffs on either side, enclosing it like a cold, damp cave.

Holding the torch aloft, Yu Ye led the way. Jiang Xiong and the others followed behind.

The gorge was narrow at its mouth, but after several yards, it widened enough for three or four to walk abreast. Before long, their progress was halted.

Yu Ye stopped. The shuffling footsteps and labored breaths behind him ceased abruptly.

At the end of the gorge stood a single stone door, taller than a man and more than three feet wide, the whole of it a solid blue, exuding an air of implacable strength. On either side of the door crouched a small, fierce-looking stone beast, teeth bared, each with its head cocked as if glaring at the other. On the door itself was carved yet another small beast, holding a stone ring in its mouth, its eyes downcast as though watching its companions below.

“Open... open it!” Jiang Xiong’s voice quivered slightly. He and Feng Lao Qi kept a full yard’s distance, faces flickering with anticipation, sycophancy, greed, or fear.

“Go on, little brother, don’t be afraid!” Jiang Xiong urged again, coaxing him as one does a recalcitrant child. Only now, a long knife glinted coldly in his hand.

Yu Ye blinked as if he didn’t understand.

It was just a door—what was there to fear?

He reached for the door and tapped the ring. The dull, clear sound echoed throughout the gorge.

Jiang Xiong hissed, “Why knock—”

Isn’t one supposed to knock before entering? Even mountain children knew that!

Ignoring Jiang Xiong, Yu Ye knocked, then pushed. Suddenly, a gust of chill air swept over him, making his heart lurch—he stepped back instinctively.

The seemingly immovable door creaked open a crack.

“Move, boy—”

Yu Ye had barely glimpsed inside when he was shoved violently aside, sent staggering into the stone wall. The men behind him rushed for the door, and just as it swung open, the two in front screamed and collapsed.

Panic seized the group.

In the chaos, someone swung an iron rod at the stone beasts. With two resounding crashes, the carvings shattered, and from the rubble several iron spikes whistled outward. The man was Feng Lao Qi; stroking his beard, he hesitated, then snatched a torch and strode toward the door. Seeing him unharmed, the others hurried to follow.

Yu Ye stood aside, dazed.

The two who fell lay motionless in pools of blood—clearly dead. No one cared for their lives, nor knew their names or origins.

If he hadn’t retreated when he did, he would be the one lying there.

The thought made Yu Ye shudder.

Jiang Xiong had forced him to lead, only to use him as bait for the traps. That man, for all his affability, was truly ruthless.

But what was this place, with such treacherous mechanisms?

Still uneasy, Yu Ye raised his torch and approached the door again.

Now only he and the two corpses remained—the others had vanished beyond the door. Not knowing what lay ahead, but having come this far and survived, he might as well see it through.

Summoning his courage, Yu Ye stepped through the stone door.

Beyond was a cavern.

He followed the passage for a dozen paces until the space suddenly opened up, flickering with torches and bustling with figures.

He stood within a sealed chamber, five or six yards high and twenty wide, with tiered stone stairs. The wide space was filled with stone tables, altars, niches—and in the center, a stone coffin that drew all attention.

A tomb.

Yu Ye understood at last.

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Despite his humble origins and limited knowledge, Yu Ye was familiar with funerary customs. The poor lay beneath simple earthen mounds; the wealthy set monuments and built chambers, indulging their extravagance even in death.

Clearly, this was the tomb of a great family.

It needed no more guessing—the men were grave robbers.

Alas, he had fallen in with a band of tomb thieves.

Yu Ye was seized with regret and turned to leave.

“If there’s no elixir, at least let’s find some gold…”

“The Yan ancestors were cultivators—they must have hidden celestial medicines here…”

His heart stirred; he halted.

The others were still rushing about—some grabbing gold, others hunting for valuables—while Jiang Xiong and Feng Lao Qi conferred in low tones. Though they tried to keep quiet, Yu Ye could make out snatches.

“We could become immortals…”

“If not, the medicine cures all ills, prolongs life… Take it to Mount Northern Qi, and it’ll fetch a hundredfold in gold…”

Medicine?

A panacea—could it cure the serpent poison in his body?

Yu Ye’s interest was piqued. He descended the stone stairs.

Others might not care, but he knew the value of such medicine—especially if it were a true elixir.

Though Uncle Qiu had said the poison was incurable and Yu Ye had come to terms with life and death, he was only fifteen, bent on revenge. With hope appearing at last, how could he let it slip by? Besides, he was now an accomplice; he might as well find the medicine before fleeing.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the tomb proper.

Yu Ye looked around, thoughts racing.

The Yan ancestors—cultivators? And what was Mount Northern Qi that Feng Lao Qi mentioned? Why did he and Jiang Xiong linger by the coffin—could it be the medicine was hidden there?

Crash—

A man barged through, kicking aside offerings in frustration at finding nothing of value, swinging his blade in a fit of rage.

Yu Ye quickly backed away, not daring to move freely.

Boom—

Feng Lao Qi smashed the coffin with his iron rod, while Jiang Xiong pushed at the lid. The noise drew all present to the center.

Yu Ye stared, resigned. Even if they found the medicine, he’d never wrest it from such brutes. Rather than fret, he might as well watch.

By Yu Ye’s side stood a stone niche, and beside it, a stone cauldron. He planted his torch there and quietly watched the chaos. Glancing down, he noticed on the altar some offerings—cakes and such, now blackened and moldy. There was a broken wooden box, from which spilled several pieces of fruit—probably left as tribute and now discarded.

Yet the purple-red fruits were intact, their appearance enticing.

Yu Ye swallowed involuntarily.

Since the serpent’s poison flared up, he had eaten nothing; now, faced with the fruit, his hunger roared. After all, offerings were food meant for the living—why not try one?

He hesitated, then picked up a fruit and popped it into his mouth. Its taste was sweet and fresh, and all his worries vanished. He had feared another poisoning, but how could something so delicious be harmful? He quickly ate all the fruit on the altar, picking up even those scattered on the ground. Once he’d swallowed them all, a strange warmth flooded his body, spreading through his limbs and bones, soothing every ache. He closed his eyes, lost in a wave of comfort and pleasure.

At that moment, a tremendous crash shook the tomb.

Rumble—

Jiang Xiong and Feng Lao Qi must have opened the coffin.

But Yu Ye, basking in warmth, had no desire to look upon those villains’ ugly faces.

Then came a piercing scream, followed by a furious roar: “Who dares defile the resting place of my ancestors—”

Yu Ye’s eyes flew open in shock…