Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilderness Chapter Eighty: Chivalry of the Jianghu

By the roadside stood a weathered stone stele, half-buried, upon which were carved the characters: “Chenling.” Man and horse halted before it.

The rider was a young man; a wide-brimmed hat cast shadow over half his face. Gone was the thin scholar’s robe, replaced by a coarse cloth garment, its hem tucked into a belt at his waist. Both his wrist and the long sword tucked in his saddlebag were wrapped in tattered cloth. His attire marked him unmistakably as a wandering swordsman of the martial world. Unless one was well acquainted with his features and bearing, none would suspect he was Yu Ye.

That roadside stele was a boundary marker. He had entered the territory of Chenling Mountain.

According to the maps, Chenling Mountain lay between Mount Suoyan and Mount Beiqi. Once he crossed this domain, he would enter the heart of the Great Marsh and could head southward from there. Yet, because this route skirted the border of Mount Beiqi, unforeseen complications might arise. It was a reluctant choice: after leaving the coast, he had gone less than half a day before the mountains blocked his way, compelling him to detour south. Mount Beiqi lay due north of the Great Marsh—if he wished to avoid delay, the only shortcut was through Chenling Mountain.

Yu Ye sat astride his horse for a moment, then rode on past the boundary. Though near Mount Beiqi, it was still several hundred miles away. Now in disguise, as long as he acted with care, he should have little to fear. And truly, if he happened to run headlong into a cultivator from Qizhou, that would be pure ill-fortune—he would have only himself to blame!

So, as he rode, Yu Ye formed seals with his hands, practicing quietly. The two or three months by the sea had been a time of secluded cultivation.

Hard work had brought rewards. He had not only advanced a level in cultivation, but his comprehension of his arts had deepened; he could now unleash three to five sword auras, each more powerful than before; his limbs grew stronger, his lightness technique more nimble and agile; his spiritual sense now reached one to two hundred feet; he had gained new insights into the art of talisman-making, and had begun to grasp the subtleties of the “Heavenly Prohibition” technique, and more.

Such are the benefits of progress in cultivation, which makes even the tedium of training a source of fascination.

It had been more than ten days since he left the sea, and he was not idle on the road—pondering the Seven-kill Sword Aura, delving into the “Heavenly Prohibition”’s binding techniques, exploring the marvels of remote object manipulation, or discussing cultivation and arcane texts with the specter of the flood dragon, tracing the origins and evolution of spells and divine techniques.

The flood dragon’s shadow claimed to be but a wisp of a lingering soul, yet her knowledge far surpassed that of ordinary folk—whether alchemy, artifact forging, talismans, formations, the essence of cultivation, or the stages of mastery, she spoke of all with effortless authority. Yet she was curiously unfamiliar with the Great Marsh and Yan Province; all relevant information came from Yu Ye’s own experience. The more time they spent together, the more mysterious she remained.

This enigmatic woman, mischievous as a spirit, was like a playful child. And Yu Ye, for all his maturity, was not without traces of childishness himself; on a whim, he had set two house rules between them. Thus, two souls brought together by happenstance, bound by loneliness and isolation, grew mutually dependent.

It was early spring, yet winter’s chill still lingered. The world around was desolate, a biting wind raising dust from the road.

Ahead, a cluster of houses appeared on a hillside—a small village.

At the village entrance, several buildings lined the roadside, apparently shops. A straw canopy sheltered their doors, with a kitchen, stable, and water trough nearby.

As he drew closer, he saw a banner fluttering from the canopy, inscribed with the words: “Banling Old Wine.”

An inn, then.

Yu Ye glanced about, dismounted, drew his sword, and strode in with a swagger. “Innkeeper! Come out here! Give my horse some clean water and feed it some good grain!”

His demeanor perfectly mimicked that of a roving adventurer.

“Heh, please take a seat, warrior—” The inn was empty of guests, only two men with the look of peasants within—one in his forties or fifties, the other just past twenty. Both had honest faces and seemed father and son. They came forward to greet him.

Three tables stood beneath the straw canopy. Yu Ye sat at the nearest, set his sword upon the table, and asked, “What place is this? How far to Chenling Town?”

“This is Banling Village. Chenling Town is still a hundred miles off!” The older man wiped dust from the table with a rag and smiled. “No need to worry, warrior—the road ahead is broad and smooth. With a swift horse, you’ll arrive before nightfall!”

Taking Yu Ye for a man pressed for time, the innkeeper offered reassurance, then brought a basin of boiled mutton and a jar of wine, graciously pouring a bowl and gesturing, “Please, enjoy—”

Yu Ye frowned at the brimming bowl of wine.

The innkeeper went on, “All who walk the martial world and taste my Banling Old Wine never fail to praise it!”

With no choice, Yu Ye lifted the bowl. The wine burned like fire, searing his throat and racing straight to his head, leaving him gasping.

“Cough…”

“Well?” The innkeeper looked on expectantly.

Yu Ye quickly channeled his cultivation to dispel the effects, then nodded with feigned appreciation. “Excellent wine!”

The innkeeper beamed. “I told you, Banling Old Wine lives up to its name!”

Yu Ye set down his bowl and seized a chunk of mutton.

As he ate, the innkeeper, still in high spirits, asked, “So, you too have come in search of the treasures of Chenling Mountain?”

“Ah…” Yu Ye, mouth full, mumbled a vague reply.

The innkeeper grinned knowingly. “I thought so! Surely you know the story: they say that thousands of years ago, a flood dragon fell here and became a mountain. Since then, strange phenomena have recurred each winter and spring, giving Chenling Mountain its name. Lately, the omens have returned, and rumors abound of the dragon’s rebirth and the emergence of a great treasure. Heroes and adventurers from all around are flocking here. I knew it—more have arrived!”

Just then, two horses galloped up the road.

The innkeeper bustled out to greet them, delighted.

Yu Ye had little interest in tales of Chenling Mountain or dragon-born treasures. Still, as he ate, he glanced up.

Two strapping men in their twenties dismounted, swords and knives at their sides. They strode into the canopy, claimed a table, and slapped it with loud bangs.

“We’re starving! Bring wine and meat, quick—!”

“Right away, gentlemen!” The innkeeper remained all smiles.

Yu Ye kept his head down, quietly eating. He mused that though he imitated the ways of the martial world, he could never quite master their boisterous brutality.

The two men, clearly famished, soon polished off a jar of wine and two basins of meat, then ordered another jar, finally relaxing with satisfied belches and laughter.

“Haha, big brother, the wine and meat here are good—we should buy some to take into the mountains.”

“As you say, little brother!”

“They say heroes from every land are flocking to Chenling Mountain—this will be a grand spectacle!”

“Bah, there are no true heroes left. They’re all lapdogs for the Daoist priests!”

“A few of my friends have joined a Daoist master’s sect—they say they’ve gotten plenty of rewards!”

“You tempted too?”

“A single pill can strengthen the body, prolong life, and double one’s might. How could anyone resist?”

“You know Old Hu?”

“A local warlord!”

“And what became of him? He was the first to submit to those overseas Daoists, rose to fame for a while, but failed in his tasks and was executed on the spot. All his men surrendered to Mount Beiqi and became lackeys for the Daoists!”

“Big brother, watch what you say!”

The two clearly had a close bond—one frank and outspoken, the other more cautious, signaling subtly to his brother, who only scoffed.

“What’s there to fear?”

“Big brother, there are many in the martial world heading for Chenling Mountain. If word of our conversation gets out…”

“Oh…”

They both turned to eye the lone guest at the next table, suspicion in their faces.

Yu Ye continued eating, inwardly resigned. Even in a wayside tavern, he could not escape trouble. The two men’s caution seemed odd—if they feared being overheard, why speak so loudly? And what did it mean, to join a Daoist master’s sect?

“I am Tianbao. Allow me to offer a bowl of wine to this brother here!” Perhaps annoyed by Yu Ye’s silence, the man called Tianbao stood, lifted his bowl, and drained it in one gulp, then wiped his beard and glared in challenge. “That’s the rule of the world—we drink first to show respect!”

Yu Ye was taken aback. Was forced drinking also a rule of the martial world?

“My brother here is Tianbao, I am his younger brother Renliang!” Not to be outdone, the younger rose and downed a bowl as well, his gaze fierce. “First to drink, to show respect!”

Were these two looking for an excuse to start a fight?

Yu Ye was irritated, or perhaps his pride was stoked. He removed his hat, rose slowly, seized the wine jar, and drank straight from it. Wine splashed as he gulped, draining the jar in moments. He set it down with a thud, his expression unchanged, and said with a faint smile, “I am Yu Zhongjian. What business have you with me?”

He borrowed the name Zhongjian, but kept his own surname—if the real one found out, who knew how angry he’d be.

Tianbao and Renliang exchanged glances, then took up their own jar and gulped it down between them. Having already drunk a jar, the second soon overwhelmed them; their faces flushed red.

Yu Ye pressed his advantage, calling, “Innkeeper, ten more jars! My brothers and I will not stop till we’re drunk!”

The innkeeper exclaimed, “My Banling Old Wine is fierce—most men fall after one jar. Ten jars… that could kill a man!”

Yu Ye scoffed, “Why stop at ten? Even fifty or a hundred jars, what of it?”

He seemed to boast, but spoke truth—so long as he used his training, not even a hundred jars would make him tipsy.

Tianbao and Renliang grew wary. With his hat off, they saw how young Yu Ye was, yet his capacity was staggering. To keep drinking would only bring humiliation.

“Brother Yu, your drinking is admirable!”

“Drinking reveals the heart, and yours is true, I can see that!”

“Brother Yu, you and I are kindred spirits!”

“Righteousness above all, we are of one mind!”

“We are brothers at first sight—through fire and blade, I will not fail you…”

Only moments before, their words had dripped with challenge; now, as if reunited with an old friend over a single jar, they treated Yu Ye as a comrade, vowing brotherhood and loyalty.

“Innkeeper, the bill!”

“Brother Yu, come with us to Chenling Mountain…”