There was an old fellow with a formidable reputation who spared the life of a corrupt official. It wasn’t out of compassion, but because Wang Shiwei had promised to exchange his own life for the official’s, willingly owing a debt to the elder, Shen Laoren, that could be called in at any time and place with but a single word. Everyone in Beiliang valued their word greatly, and Shen Li believed in his own judgment—he had seen countless people, and Wang Shiwei was a man of few words but honest intentions.
After all, what was a mere county clerk? Once he entered Fulu Mountain, a veritable dragon’s den and tiger’s lair, his fate was sealed. If Shen Li didn’t kill him personally, he wouldn’t be breaking his word, and would still gain the loyalty of this rough but steadfast man. In total, eight people—six riders—rode toward Fulu Mountain under the cold moonlight. The clerk was carelessly tossed across a horse’s back, Wang Shiwei, who couldn’t ride, sat behind Liu Yu. Shen Li rode furiously, paying no heed to the clerk’s rough ride. The poor man tumbled from the horse, covered in dust. The group had to stop, haul him back onto the horse, and continue—still unconscious.
Two hundred miles away, Fulu Mountain was the name used by Shen Li and other martial cultivators. In the mouths of woodcutters and hunters from the Yan Zhi Prefecture, it was commonly called Golden Pheasant Mountain, named for the abundance of red-bellied pheasants that thrived there. The young nobles of Beiliang were fond of cockfighting and often used these birds. However, rumors of remnants of the Devil Sect occupying the mountain as bandits—killers who didn’t even blink when they murdered—kept people away. Even seasoned hunters dared not risk their lives for the sake of a few birds, which is why the red-bellied pheasants were always valuable but rarely seen in Yan Zhi.
Fulu Mountain stretched for dozens of miles with towering peaks and flowing streams, its scenery graceful and verdant, a rare paradise in Youzhou. Yet this heavenly sanctuary had been turned into a den of chaos by the bandits. Even during the day, the mountain exuded a chilling, sinister aura. Yan Zhi had once attempted large-scale bandit hunts, but after sending out eighty strong men and having only one madman return, no one dared to try again. A woodcutter who led soldiers to the mountain had his entire family hanged from tall trees, their mouths stuffed with gold and silver.
The path up Fulu Mountain was narrow and treacherous, barely wide enough for a single horse to pass slowly. They entered the mountain at dawn, and by the time the morning light grew stronger and the mist lifted, the six riders had long since left the path, relying on experience to navigate the slopes. By noon, the view suddenly opened up, revealing a vast expanse of white-walled, black-tiled buildings nestled against the mountainside. To the left of the structures flowed a slender waterfall, delicate and picturesque—like stepping into a notorious gambling den only to find the dealer was a charming young maiden.
Shen Li turned back with a grin, “Wang Shiwei, this is the real Fulu Mountain. Those outer peaks may seem deserted, but they hide watchtowers and signals, not unlike a military encampment. There are over three hundred people here—men, women, and children—all trained in martial arts. Not even the Yan Zhi Prefecture, let alone the Youzhou General, could enter without leaving a thousand lives behind. And beyond this mountain lies another—three li away, the Xianguan Cave houses over a hundred true warriors, a gathering of experts. The cave master, Shen Jianku, was already a minor master before entering the mountain, and his strength rivals, if not surpasses, that of Zhang Juxian, the second-tier expert of Fulu Mountain.”
Shen Li chuckled, returning his gaze to the mountain, “Why am I telling you all this, a mere villager? Even if you start training today, you won’t become a true martial artist. Strength alone won’t make you a master. If you want revenge, you’ll have to keep your head down on the mountain. Build alliances, wait a few years, gather twenty or thirty men, and come down to claim your vengeance. That soft-skinned descendant of the Song family will fall into your hands, and you can do as you please. There are plenty of rough men here who fancy men—you won’t have to worry about him dying too easily. And you, Clerk Xu, I know you’ve been awake for a whole incense stick. Stop pretending to sleep. That was meant for you.”
Xu Xiaozhu, the clerk of Bishan County, slid from his horse, rubbing his belly—likely bruised from the rough ride—and his face was pale and haggard. Wang Shiwei also dismounted and approached, apologizing, “Clerk My Lord, I’m sorry. I, Wang Shiwei, am the criminal…”
Before the man could finish, Xu Xiaozhu raised his hand as if to strike, then withdrew with a heavy sigh. He gazed at the mountain, lost in thought. Liu Yu gave him a nudge, and Xu Xiaozhu followed Wang Shiwei up the stone steps. The path was shaded by trees on either side, and even at noon, the heat was bearable. As they climbed, few guards were visible. Shen Li, having escaped imprisonment and returned to this place, seemed moved. Liu Yu whispered beside the elder.
Halfway up, at a pavilion with upturned eaves, two white-robed boys carrying books appeared from the side of the path. Their lips were red, their teeth white, and behind them came an old man in white robes riding a yellow ox, exuding an air of immortality. He sang, “Riding the yellow ox backward, hands hanging toward spring breeze,” making Wang Shiwei mistake him for a true immortal.
Standing at the top of the steps, Shen Li laughed, “Master Wei, what’s the use of pretending to be a god on the mountain? This act only works outside. Among the Ten Bandits of Youzhou, you rank even higher than me. The moment you appear, hundreds of imperial riders will chase you down.”
The old master of Fulu Mountain sneered, “Gua Xin Yama Shen Li, how dare I compare myself to you? You’re called Yama, more fearsome than the Butcher himself. If it weren’t for Juxian’s old friendship with you and his debt, I wouldn’t have sent my disciples to Bishan County to get involved in this mess.”
Shen Li twisted his right wrist with two fingers, smirking, “Wei Jin, we’re both no saints, equals in every way. If Shen Jianku hadn’t sliced your mouth with his sword back then, you’d have known better than to talk so much.”
Perhaps sensing the confusion of the old master, who glanced at Xu Xiaozhu in his sixth-grade official’s robe and the peasant Wang Shiwei, Liu Yu approached the ox and explained the situation. The old man nodded and shook his head, then led the way up the mountain on his ox. The two white-robed youths followed with light steps, clearly skilled in martial arts. To be disciples of Wei Shan Zhu, one of the top three experts of Fulu Mountain, their talent and fortune must be considerable.
Xu Fengnian appeared bruised and battered, deliberately suppressing all his energy, his breath and body indistinguishable from an ordinary man. Wei Jin, after all, was no real immortal, and couldn’t detect the young official’s true cultivation level.
Xu Fengnian and Wang Shiwei were assigned to a secluded house, where two modestly pretty maids served them. They seemed cheerful, likely young girls taken from the outside world. Whether their fate was pitiable or fortunate was hard to say—life on the mountain might not be luxurious, but at least they had food and shelter.
Wang Shiwei waited until the curious maids brought tea and food, then closed the door and cautiously approached the window, pressing his ear to the paper. Hearing nothing, he sat back at the table, watching the clerk devour his meal. Just as he was about to speak, Xu Fengnian grabbed a greasy chicken leg and hurled it at Wang Shiwei, silencing him with a glare, “Damn you, Wang Shiwei! You’ve turned me, a county clerk, into a prisoner! If I ever return to Bishan, I’ll skin you alive!”
Wang Shiwei caught the leg, smiling bitterly, “I hope Clerk My Lord can safely descend the mountain.”
After a hearty meal, the clerk leisurely picked his teeth with a bamboo stick, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table—only to fall backward with a crash. Wang Shiwei turned sharply, seeing a beautiful woman sitting on the beam above, a short dagger in her lap. His heart pounded—he hadn’t sensed her presence at all. If he had spoken too openly with Xu Fengnian, it could have cost the young official his life.
The woman looked about twenty, her dagger wrapped in golden silk. She floated down, circling Xu Fengnian and inspecting him from head to toe. She had seen countless outlaws in her life, but this was her first official—a rare sight.
She reached out, pinching the embroidered badge on his robe, smirking, “What rank are you? What’s on this badge?”
Xu Fengnian “calmly” replied, “This official is sixth rank, serving as the clerk of Bishan County, a junior sixth-grade civil servant. It’s a heron.”
The woman tugged at the badge, then withdrew her hand, “Snowy clothes, snowy hair, and jade beak, always perching by the boat window. A heron, I know. How about you give me this robe? I’ll guarantee your safety on Fulu Mountain.”
Ignoring Wang Shiwei’s warning glances, Xu Fengnian stubbornly declared, “A scholar may die, but not be disgraced.”
Wang Shiwei sighed. The woman slapped the badge, rolling her eyes, “Scholar? You’re a fool! Talking like Master Wei, but do you have his skills? You’ll be lucky to escape the Fish Scale Execution—slice by slice, until you’re a carp covered in scales! My senior brother Monkey is second only to my father in knife skills.”
She raised her hand, mimicking slicing motions, then smiled sweetly, “One more chance—take it off or not?”
Impatient, she declared she’d do it herself, quickly stripping the robe from him without regard for propriety, tossing it over her shoulder, and skipping away happily.
Xu Fengnian sat back, pouring Wang Shiwei a drink, muttering, “Now that’s a female bandit.”
Wang Shiwei sighed, “Clerk Xu, you should’ve agreed.”
Xu Fengnian smiled, “I appreciate the thought.”
After a pause, Wang Shiwei moved closer, lowering his voice, “To be honest, Clerk Xu, I’m actually Wang Shiwei, a constable from Qing’an Prefecture. I’ve been tailing Shen Li’s gang for six years. With my old friend Song Yu from Yan Zhi, I set this trap. I didn’t expect to drag you into danger.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “What if I expose you?”
Wang Shiwei shook his head, “Once I reached Fulu Mountain, my mission was complete. Now it’s up to Song Yu and Bai Xianwei to gather enough forces.”
Wang Shiwei sighed, “But I fear the outcome. Originally, Song Yu and I believed a hundred elite soldiers and three to four hundred patrols from Qing’an and Yan Zhi would be enough to clear this den of bandits. But along the way, I’ve seen their watchtowers placed with military precision, their hidden scouts well-organized. Worse, if five hundred imperial soldiers finally enter the mountain, the bandits of Fulu Mountain and Xianguan Cave might abandon their nests rather than fight. Bandits are easy to kill, but scattered rebels are hard to catch.”
Xu Fengnian asked curiously, “Wang Constable, why go to such lengths? Why risk your life?”
Wang Shiwei paused, then laughed, “Why? Clerk Xu, may I ask you in return—when you govern a land, shouldn’t you bring peace to its people? I’ve been a constable for most of my life, watching over sixty brothers fall in duty. If I have any reason, it’s simply for peace of mind.”
Xu Fengnian was taken aback, then smiled, raising his cup, “To you.”
Wang Shiwei raised his cup, drank deeply, then poured another, “This wine is truly excellent. In normal times, my salary could support my family, but not afford such a luxury.”
Xu Fengnian muttered, “Yes, your salary should be raised.”
Wang Shiwei laughed, “Clerk Xu, may your words bring good fortune.”
Xu Fengnian sipped his wine, “According to that Gua Xin Yama, Shen Jianku already has the strength of a minor master, possibly even a first-tier expert. Zhang Juxian of Fulu Mountain is also a renowned master. Even without the four hundred bandits of the two mountains, these two alone would be more than the imperial forces could handle. Unless they mobilize one of the four current Youzhou commanders with elite archers and experienced scouts, even doubling the number of troops might not be enough. Master Wang, I fear your plan with that Song young master who played along with you will fail, and afterward, you’ll be scapegoated. You might even lose your salary.”
Wang Shiwei’s already downturned eyebrows drooped further. He drank deeply, pounded his leg, and muttered bitterly, “I didn’t know Golden Pheasant Mountain had another faction, Xianguan Cave, or that it had a bandit chief rivaling Zhang Juxian.”
Xu Fengnian comforted him, “If Song Yu is a cautious man, Master Wang, you needn’t worry too much. If the imperial forces encounter resistance entering the mountain, they’ll naturally reinforce their numbers. Such a great achievement will attract many to share in the glory. The current Youzhou generals are eager to curry favor with the new governor and General Huangfu Ping. Once they catch a whiff of this opportunity, they’ll stop at nothing to wipe out the bandits of Golden Pheasant Mountain.”
Wang Shiwei’s eyes lit up, and he said with heartfelt admiration, “Master Xu, your words ring true. I truly admire your insight! Frankly, though I may be a mediocre third-grade martial artist who has somehow managed to hold the position of chief constable overseeing six hundred patrols in Qing’an County, I am well aware of my own limitations. When it comes to administrative skills, I wouldn’t even rank ninth-grade. Compared to you, Master Xu, the difference is like heaven and earth!”
Xu Fengnian teased, “Master Wang, you’re flattering a junior clerk whose rank is even lower than yours. Seems like you’ve entered the wrong temple with your pig’s head offering. Your bureaucratic skills really do leave much to be desired!”
Wang Shiwei raised his thumb, laughing heartily, his two drooping eyebrows lifting slightly with his joy. “Master Xu, I’m just a rough man. Whether you like it or not, I’m calling you my brother from now on—we share the same taste! If we both survive Jinjishan, I’ll definitely introduce you to that young fellow Song Yu. He reads a lot, but he and I usually drink more than we talk. I think you and he would get along famously.”
Xu Fengnian clinked cups with the hearty man, and both drank their cups in one gulp.
There were two jugs of wine on the table, each holding at least two and a half jin. Drinking to drown sorrows rarely leads to intoxication, but when one is in high spirits, even a little alcohol can bring on a tipsy feeling. Wang Shiwei had drunk most of it and now lay slumped on the table, fast asleep.
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly, stood up, opened the door, and stepped outside. Two female servants were sitting at a stone table in the courtyard, chatting quietly. A colorful sheet of paper lay between them. When they saw the young nobleman without his official robes, they exchanged a knowing smile. Both were in their youthful bloom, their fingers as delicate as spring onions, their faces painted with a rosy hue. Their attire was light and revealing, their necks exposed, and their bosoms, though still modest, were already full enough to tempt even the most disciplined gaze. The mountain cuisine must have been excellent, for despite their tender age, their figures had developed with a graceful firmness.
As Xu Fengnian approached, he saw that they were writing in the Northern Liang Women’s Script, a unique style pioneered by the famed “Lady Scholar” Yan Dongwu. This script was composed solely of four strokes: dots, vertical lines, slants, and curves. Since Yan Dongwu had become the Crown Princess of the Liyang Dynasty, this script had swept the land, earning the name “Lady Scholar Style.” It was now as famous as the refined calligraphy of Jin Lanting, the Right Sacrificial Official of the Imperial Academy.
Xu Fengnian extended a finger and pressed it lightly against the coarse paper, about to decipher the writing, when suddenly a clamor of footsteps echoed from outside the courtyard. The two maids, who had been relatively polite to him, quickly gathered up their charcoal pens and paper, rising to greet the newcomer.
Through the courtyard gate stepped a tall, young swordsman with a blade at his waist. His eyes locked onto Xu Fengnian as he asked coldly, “You’re Xu Qi? The clerk from Bian Mountain?”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
The young man smirked. “Convenient. You’re to be the main course for the celebration banquet—skinned alive like fish scales. You reek of wine, so I assume you’ve already had your farewell drink. Then let’s go. If your legs give out, these two girls can help you along. I’m a generous guy—on the way, you can grope them all you want, as long as you don’t stop walking. Strip them if you like.”
The two maids turned pale, lowering their heads in fear, too afraid to meet the gaze of this young swordsman, whose reputation for brutality on Fu Lu Mountain was well known.
Xu Fengnian asked a question that was, admittedly, rather pointless: “Is there no way to avoid death?”
Behind the young swordsman stood several henchmen, all armed with swords. They were built for intimidation, their faces fierce and menacing. In smaller towns, men like them would be snapped up by minor sects as enforcers—after all, in those places, battles were won with glares, not fists. A single fierce look could win the day without a fight.
The swordsman tilted his chin slightly. No words were needed. One of the henchmen, his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, stepped forward and grabbed Xu Fengnian’s shoulder. Just as the brute was about to teach this delicate-looking scholar a lesson, a sharp voice rang out from behind.
“Ironhead, stop!”
The young swordsman turned reluctantly, his expression softening as he saw the graceful figure. “Miss,” he greeted gently.
The young woman, whose short sword was wrapped with golden thread, showed her small tiger-like teeth as she grinned. “Brother Monkey, call me ‘Junior Sister’—got it?”
The swordsman said nothing. The woman pointed at Xu Fengnian. “I need to talk to him. Don’t kill him yet.”
A golden-furred monkey leapt onto the swordsman’s shoulder. He stroked its head, frowning. “Miss, we must kill him now. That’s the Mountain Master’s order. I dare not disobey.”
The young woman laughed. “On Fu Lu Mountain, my father is the boss, but I’m the boss of the boss. So tell me—who should you listen to? Brother Monkey, if my father asks later, just say I stopped it.”
Apparently familiar with the mountain’s unspoken rules, the swordsman indeed left with a helpless smile.
The woman turned to Xu Fengnian, smiling. “How’s your handwriting? If it’s passable, help me write a letter. Consider it repayment for saving your life. Oh, and for that official robe too.”
Before Xu Fengnian could speak, she had already ordered the two maids to fetch the Four Treasures of the Study. As soon as the fine-tipped Yanghao brush, made from the tails of Northern Liang sheep, was dipped in ink, she snatched it from the maid’s hands and thrust it toward Xu Fengnian. Xu Fengnian accepted the brush, a specialty of Northern Liang. Outsiders often mocked it as “Liang Scum,” criticizing its softness and lack of strength. No great calligrapher from the Central Plains had ever favored this brush.
He sat down, dipped the brush lightly in the inkstone again, adjusting the ink’s consistency until it was just right. Then, he lifted his arm, poised above the paper, and asked calmly, “What should I write?”
The woman blinked, then clapped her hands in delight. “Look at you! The moment a true master lifts the brush, you can tell! You’re definitely a pro. I’ve struck gold!”
Xu Fengnian waited patiently.
She grinned and sat down beside him, shooing the maids away. She glanced around cautiously before whispering, “I can only memorize books by rote. When it comes to writing something myself, I’m hopeless. And my handwriting… well, let’s just say it’s not exactly presentable. But there’s this fellow named Lu from the neighboring mountain—he’s very learned, and he doesn’t like wild, sword-swinging girls. He prefers quiet, refined women. I once sneaked down the mountain and almost died, but I bought a few romance novels. I envied the love letters exchanged between the hero and heroine so much that I even raised a few messenger geese. I’ve been waiting for someone with beautiful handwriting to appear—and now you’re here! Perfect timing! By the way, what’s your name?”
Xu Fengnian, who had already planned to wreak havoc on Fu Lu Mountain, replied with a dry tone, “Have you decided what you want to write yet?”
“Not yet!” she said cheerfully.
Xu Fengnian placed the brush back on the inkstone and closed his eyes, calming his mind.
She twisted her face in thought, but after a stick of incense had burned, she still looked defeated. Tentatively, she asked, “Would you mind just writing a few dozen words for me?”
Xu Fengnian opened his eyes and stared at the young lady from Fu Lu Mountain.
She glared back, shouting, “What are you staring at? If I didn’t need you, I’d have let Brother Monkey drag you off to be sliced into a thousand pieces already!”
Wang Shiwei, an experienced old constable, had only been lightly dozing. The young woman’s loud voice woke him instantly. He rushed out and, seeing that his kindred-spirit Xu Fengnian was unharmed, let out a sigh of relief.
The young woman, who usually spoke and acted like a scatterbrain, gave Wang Shiwei a sidelong glance and said mockingly, “You move pretty lightly for someone who’s supposed to be just a clumsy farmer with brute strength. Is it that Shen Li is scheming against you, or have you managed to fool even this old fox?”
Wang Shiwei smiled his Simple and honest smile, saying nothing.
Xu Fengnian asked calmly, “Are you going to write your love letter or not?”
The young woman quickly replied, “Of course I am! Lu Brother has just met a new fox spirit on the mountain. If I don’t act now, I’ll regret it forever!”
Xu Fengnian smirked, “Same old story—older brother pines for younger sister, younger sister fancies another sect’s dashing young man, and that dashing young man is in love with a stranger. Don’t you have anything more original?”
She widened her eyes. “Is that from a romance novel too? Why have I never read that before?!”
Xu Fengnian smiled confidently. “Miss, the fox spirit you mentioned—her chest is bigger than yours, right? She looks dignified when she doesn’t smile, but when she does, she’s even more charming than you. Not only the man you like, but many others too, would gladly drink her bathwater if they could.”
She glanced down at herself. She didn’t know whether the world was at peace, but she was certainly flat-chested—undeniably so. Sighing, she muttered, “You’re right again. You really are learned.”
She looked up, narrowing her eyes. “You may not be as strong as that Wang fellow, but you’re much sharper. I can overlook his business, but you—you must promise me one thing. After writing this love letter, you must stay on the mountain as a teacher for ten years. After that, you can choose to stay or leave. Deal?”
Xu Fengnian smiled. The woman, who always thought she was in control, suddenly felt a strange unease.
But it passed quickly.
A white-robed child entered the courtyard, his voice clear and bright. “Master invites the young Miss to listen to the zither at the Waterfall Well.”
She shivered slightly, then eyed Xu Fengnian suspiciously, grinning wryly. She gripped her golden-threaded short sword and said to the scholar-official, “Come on. We’ll leave the writing for now. Let’s go listen to the zither first.”
Xu Fengnian stood, nodding slightly at Wang Shiwei to reassure him.
The white-robed child led the way. Xu Fengnian followed beside the sword-wielding woman, whose name he still did not know, along the bluestone path. She chatted idly, telling him a story.
“Once upon a time,” she said, “a wandering swordsman with considerable skill came to Fu Lu Mountain for revenge. He endured many trials, passed through countless dangers, and finally… died.”
As soon as she finished the rather uninteresting tale, Xu Fengnian saw a waterfall cascading down from above. At its base was a massive slab of green stone, so the water did not form a pool but instead struck the stone like a hammer, echoing like a deep well.
A white-robed elder sat beside the well, two incense burners beside him, their smoke curling upward.
The white-robed child, holding a fly-whisk, began to recite the opening passage of the sacred texts of the Zhang family.
The old man raised his hands slowly, one higher than the other.
At that moment, Xu Fengnian watched intently, his ears attuned.
Then, suddenly, the ethereal old man slammed his hands onto the zither strings. And then—he began to sway his head, shaking wildly, pounding the zither in a frenzy.
Xu Fengnian froze, his lips twitching. He could only sigh from the depths of his heart, two words escaping his lips:
“Master… indeed!”
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