Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilderness Chapter Four: Spirit Flood Gorge

(1/3)

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A snowbound valley.

All was silent.

In a secluded corner of the silent valley, beneath the snow-laden thickets, a rustling suddenly broke the stillness, and from the white undergrowth leapt a wild creature. Its ears were upright, fur coarse and short, tail drooping low, limbs sturdy and agile, eyes gleaming a ghostly yellow—it was a fully grown wolf.

The wolf, after emerging, paced stealthily, looking warily around.

The valley after the snowfall seemed subtly different. Amid the biting wind, there was a strange scent, unfamiliar and unsettling.

The wolf halted, its eyes glinting with menace.

Just two or three yards away stood a low snow mound, a common enough sight in the snow-buried valley. Yet the little mound began to shudder faintly; flakes of snow tumbled away as a human figure crawled out, clutching a sharp hunting knife.

The wolf crouched, then sprang with a hiss.

It was a young man, scrambling out of the snow in panic so severe that his knife slipped from his grasp. The beast was already upon him, and he was paralyzed with fear.

At that perilous moment, someone shouted:

“Dogzi, don’t be afraid!”

A middle-aged man bounded out from the snowy ground a few yards away, hurling an iron fork with all his might.

Caught off guard, the wolf twisted and rolled aside, dodging the weapon. As the fork struck the ground, the middle-aged man rushed to shield the young man, snatching up the hunting knife and bracing himself for a desperate fight.

The wolf bared its fangs, ready to pounce, but after a brief hesitation, tucked its tail and slowly backed away.

The man was wary too.

Against a full-grown wild wolf, if the ambush failed, a further attack was unlikely to succeed. Besides, he had to protect the young man behind him, so he dared not act rashly.

The wolf retreated step by step, about to vanish into the forest.

At that moment, a snow mound at the forest edge exploded, and a wooden staff shot out, aimed straight at the wolf’s eye.

The wolf, quick as lightning, dodged, but the staff feinted and struck hard against its waist. Caught off guard, the wolf howled in agony, rolling across the ground.

The middle-aged man seized the opportunity, lunged forward, and brought the knife down hard. The wolf, unable to counterattack, was decapitated in a single stroke. It twitched a few times, then lay still.

“That was close!”

The man wiped blood from his face, panting heavily. Relieved, he turned and scolded, “Dogzi, you nearly lost your life!”

“It wasn’t a badger, a deer, an elk, or a hare. A wild wolf eats people; of course I panicked…”

“Why wasn’t Yu Ye afraid?”

“Uncle Wu, I was scared too!”

Yu Ye stood in the snow near the forest, his hair and face caked with snow, breathing hard, gripping his staff tightly.

The young man who’d been hiding in the snow mound was Yu Ergou; the man who saved him was, of course, his father, Yu Shitou. The pair bickered briefly, then set to skinning the wolf. Once finished, the three of them headed to a hollow ringed by trees.

In the hollow lay the carcass of a mountain deer, several hares, a bag of wild fruits, and two bundles of medicinal herbs.

“Good. Let’s head back,” said Yu Shitou, nodding with satisfaction at the day’s haul. A few more days of hard work and they would return home laden with spoils. He was about to instruct the two youngsters to continue hunting, when a sigh escaped him.

Someone approached, knelt down, and without a word, kowtowed earnestly before him.

Yu Shitou hesitated, then sighed, “So be it, come with me.”

...

Amidst the ice and snow, two figures stood.

Yu Shitou was still sighing, while Yu Ye by his side pressed his lips together, resolute.

A few yards away, at the foot of the mountain, the snow lay deep. A collapsed section revealed a small, dark entrance.

(2/3)

Yu Shitou pointed and explained, “This is far from Withered Grass Gorge, next to Tiger Leaping Gorge. Last year at this time, your father and I chased game here. The cave’s depths were uncertain; I dared not go in, but your father was bold. Who could have guessed what would happen…”

Yu Ye brushed aside knee-deep snow and strode forward.

Yu Shitou hurried to stop him, “Dogzi has gone to fetch help, you mustn’t risk going in alone!”

Yu Ye did not look back. He slipped into the cave.

Yu Shitou grumbled, “Stubborn child, never listens…”

Inside the cave.

Yu Ye leaned against the stone wall, catching his breath.

He had joined this winter’s hunt not for sport or game, but to seek news of his father. After much pleading, his uncle finally brought him to this place.

Was this where his father met his fate?

Before him was pure darkness.

According to his uncle, when his father was lost, the clan had tried to rescue him, but for various reasons, abandoned the effort. The cause of death was so strange that no one wished to speak of it.

Yu Ye took out a fire striker, blew gently, and lit it.

By its glow, he could roughly make out his surroundings.

The cave was the size of a room, strewn with rubble, dead grass, and snowdrifts. Another opening led off into the darkness, its depth uncertain.

Composing himself, Yu Ye raised the fire striker in his left hand, gripped his staff in his right, and advanced into the cave.

The passage was tall enough to walk with ease.

But after a few steps, his way was blocked.

A pile of stones, as if deliberately stacked, obstructed most of the passage.

Yu Ye carefully climbed the stones.

As his hands and feet shifted, stones tumbled and rattled. He waited for the echoes to die away before moving on.

After some thirty feet, the passage ended.

Yu Ye stopped.

It was another chamber, over twice a man’s height, four or five yards across, but utterly empty, with no other exits in sight.

His uncle had sworn his father had met his end here. If so, why was there no trace?

Yu Ye hesitated, then turned to leave.

He would find his uncle and demand the truth.

As he turned, his foot struck something. He bent down with the fire striker to see.

The ground was strewn with rubble. Amid the stones, something lay hidden.

A broken hunting knife?

Only half the blade remained, rusty and old, but the handle, wrapped in animal hide, was unmistakably familiar.

It was his father’s knife!

The knife was here—where was the man?

Yu Ye set down his staff, reached for the knife. As he bent, a chill swept his spine, as though a cold wind brushed his head.

He glanced up. The cave ceiling was lost in shadow, as if split by a crevice, wind whistling through, and a dark mass swayed above.

What was it?

Yu Ye stared, but suddenly a fetid wind swept over him.

Unprepared, he raised the knife in defense. With a clang, the broken blade flew from his hand. He stumbled back, but too late. Suffocating darkness engulfed him in an instant, binding him tight in a stench of blood.

His bones ached, he gasped for breath, but could neither break free nor call for help. It was as if he had sunk into a mire, lost in a nightmare, tossed by stormy seas, powerless, on the verge of fainting.

In his desperation, his hand brushed the short knife at his waist. Like a drowning man clutching at reeds, he drew it and stabbed upward with all his might.

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“Pop—”

With a faint but distinct sound, the unbearable darkness cracked open.

Yu Ye slashed frantically with the knife.

There was a crashing sound, as if a riverbank had collapsed, as if mud surged forth.

Dazed, Yu Ye was hurled from the “mud,” landing with a thud. The dreadful constriction vanished, and he could breathe again. He wiped his face, clearing his vision, then stared about in terror.

He could still see nothing but swirling wind, flying stones, and the crack and thunder of impacts echoing through the darkness.

He lay prone, afraid to lift his head.

After who knew how long, the tumult slowly died away.

Yu Ye cautiously got up.

The ground was slick with blood, the stench so thick it made him retch.

He reached into his coat for a spare fire striker. He had barely kindled it when he tripped and stumbled.

What he’d stumbled over was a torch, bound from pine branches, though only half remained, the tip blackened.

He picked up both torch and striker, blew hard, and soon flames sputtered to life. By the torchlight, the scene around him was revealed.

A few yards away lay a black mass. Its shape was unmistakable—a giant black serpent, nearly half a meter thick and some fifteen or sixteen feet long. Its belly was split open, from which oozed a stinking pool of blood.

Horrified, Yu Ye realized how close he had come to death.

So he had been swallowed alive by the giant snake in his confusion?

A beast so savage would be a match for three or five seasoned hunters. That he had survived being swallowed was beyond belief.

Where was the life-saving short knife?

Had it not been for piercing the serpent’s belly, he would have died here.

He hurriedly searched, found the knife in the bloody mire, cleaned it carefully, and tucked it away with great care.

He had survived by sheer luck, but the place was still a cave, with passages leading away into darkness. In one corner, a crevice like a well mouth opened into the depths below. That must have been where the serpent had hidden, launching its ambush from below.

Could his father, last year, have met the same fate?

If so, he had wronged his uncle. Even if his uncle believed his father dead, he could not have known what transpired.

At this thought, Yu Ye’s legs gave way, and he knelt, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He had always believed his father still lived, clinging to hope until now. But what he saw before him shattered his last illusions.

The serpent was well and truly dead. Amid the blood-soaked debris lay splintered bones, animal pelts, and tattered scraps of cloth. Among them might be his father’s remains, yet they were unrecognizable, impossible to gather.

Yu Ye wept inconsolably. As he sobbed, his eye caught something.

Beyond the serpent’s corpse, by the stone wall a dozen yards away, a figure sat, as if watching him for some time, hidden in the shadows.

Yu Ye’s heart pounded; he stood up.

The figure sat motionless.

Was it living, or dead?

Could it be his father?

But his father had perished in the serpent’s belly—then who…?

Yu Ye forgot his grief, and even his fear, stumbling forward with the torch raised.