Chapter 1:
After the Duel
BANBU PEAK—Half-Step Peak. As the name implied, the summit boasted only a few square inches on which to stand: a half step forward led to a majestic cliff, thousands of meters tall. Above, jagged stones jutted skywards and bowed trees crept forth; below, great swathes of mist swirled and haunting wails echoed throughout. It was a treacherous, craggy place where heaven and earth did not meet.
Facing this cliff loomed another mountain summit, called Yinghui Peak. It was no less high nor steep than Banbu—its walls also soared for thousands of meters, sheer as if pared by a knife. There seemed no likely foothold, and even its scant greenery was ungrounded in soil, its roots twining about the rocks. The sight was enough to make anyone shudder and regret their attempts to scale that peak. And so, the name Yinghui Peak was born—Certain-Regret Peak.
Between these two peaks yawned a natural chasm. Seen from above, a sea of clouds drifted lazily, concealing the fathoms of its depths, and one could faintly hear the vicious roar of unceasing rapids. The common woodcutters and hunters dared not climb there; even Xiantian experts1 who stood there would find that a sigh stirred within their hearts, lamenting the insignificance of humans before nature.
However, below the mist at the foot of the cliff, between the river waters and mountain walls, wound a stone path paved with uneven rubble. It was long, narrow, and rugged, yet at this moment two men walked upon it, one in front and the other behind.
As the river raged and galloped, waves churned up from time to time and broke against the wet, slippery rocks. If one lacked just a little prudence while walking, they’d be soaked through by the spray even without falling into the waters. But if they tried to lean away instead, they’d meet that sheer rock face and its sharp, jutting stones. In short, the path was a dilemma liable to leave anyone in a woeful state, and yet these two men seemed to stroll leisurely along as though through a courtyard, their movements confident and graceful.
“I heard that twenty years ago, Xuandu Mountain’s Perfected Master Qi defeated the Göktürks' number one martial artist Hulugu, right here on Banbu Peak. And then he forced him to swear an oath to stay out of the Central Plains for the next twenty years. A pity this disciple was still too young to watch that duel. The battle must have been incomparably splendid.”
The young man who spoke walked behind the other. Their pace was neither slow nor quick, yet he always kept three steps behind.
The man in front sauntered in small steps, his demeanor as languid as if he truly trod on level ground. The steps of the young man behind him stretched a little longer. Taken alone, the young man in back also bore an immortal’s weightless grace, but seen together it was easy to find the subtle differences between the two.
Yan Wushi gave a derisive laugh. “Qi Fengge was indeed worthy of being called number one in all the world. Hulugu was a foreign barbarian—he overestimated himself and invited humiliation because of it. He only had himself to blame. Yet, for the sake of upholding a Daoist sect’s pure and lofty image, Qi Fengge refused to kill him and chose instead to establish a twenty-year covenant. Apart from sowing the seeds of trouble for Xuandu Mountain’s future, what benefits did he receive?”
Yu Shengyan was curious. “Shizun, was Hulugu truly that great of a martial artist?”
“If I were to fight him now, I would have no guarantee of victory.”
“He’s really that strong?” Yu Shengyan was aghast. Of course, he understood just how profound his own master’s martial arts were. Hulugu’s abilities must be just as terrifying if Yan Wushi gave him such an appraisal. Perhaps he’d even rank among the top three in the world.
Yan Wushi’s tone was indifferent. “Why else would I say that Qi Fengge left endless troubles for his own disciples and future generations? Twenty years ago, Hulugu might have been slightly inferior to Qi Fengge, but in twenty years, such a gap can be closed. And now, Qi Fengge is dead. Xuandu Mountain will never find a second Qi Fengge.”
Yu Shengyan released a soft breath. “Yes, Perfected Master Qi passed away five years ago.”
“Who is the current sect leader of Xuandu Mountain?”
“A disciple of Qi Fengge’s, named Shen Qiao.”
Yan Wushi had little reaction to the name. He’d met Qi Fengge only once, and that was twenty-five years ago. Back then, Shen Qiao had only just been accepted as one of Qi Fengge’s personal disciples.
There was no doubt that Xuandu Mountain was called “The World’s Number One Daoist Sect,” but in the opinion of Yan Wushi, who had just emerged from ten years of seclusion,2 no one on Xuandu Mountain was worthy of standing as his opponent, other than Qi Fengge.
Unfortunately, Qi Fengge was dead.
Yu Shengyan saw his master’s lack of interest and added, “I heard that Hulugu’s disciple Kunye, the current number one martial artist of the Göktürks and Wise King of the Left, is here today at the summit of Banbu Peak to challenge Shen Qiao. He says that he wants to clear the shame from Hulugu’s loss. Does Shizun wish to go and watch?”
Yan Wushi answered neither yes nor no. “In the ten or so years I spent in seclusion, what other major events occurred, apart from Qi Fengge’s death?” He asked instead.
Yu Shengyan thought for a moment. “Shortly after you entered seclusion, the new emperor of Qi, Gao Wei, ascended to the throne. But he is a man of lustful indulgence and boundless extravagance, so Qi’s strength has plummeted since then. There are rumors that Yuwen Yong, the emperor of Zhou, is plotting to attack Qi—Zhou will probably annex the north soon.
“Over these last ten years, because of Qi Fengge’s death, the ranking of the world’s top ten martial artists has also changed. Yi Pichen of Chunyang Monastery on Qingcheng Mountain, Buddhist Master Xueting of Zhou, and Ruyan Kehui of Linchuan Academy are recognized as the top three in the world, and they represent exactly the three schools of Daoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism.
“But some also say the Kosa Sage of the Tuyuhun should be ranked among the top three. There’s also Hulugu—if he’s grown stronger over all these years, it’s possible he could compete for the number one position the next time he enters the Central Plains.”
After this speech, Yu Shengyan saw that his master was continuing along their path, and he couldn’t help but add, “Shizun, today’s duel between Kunye and Shen Qiao will surely be another rare and exciting battle. Shen Qiao is a recluse, and he’s fought even less since he took over leadership of Xuandu’s Violet Palace. He only ranks in the top ten on account of his master Qi Fengge’s prestigious reputation. If Shizun wishes to see the true extent of Xuandu Mountain’s strength, today’s battle is not to be missed. I imagine the summit of Yinghui Peak is already packed full with martial experts who’ve come to watch!”
“Did you think that I came here today to watch the battle?” Yan Wushi finally paused his steps.
Yu Shengyan was a bit flustered. “Then, what does Shizun mean to do?”
He’d entered discipleship beneath Yan Wushi at only seven years old. Then, three years later, Yan Wushi had lost a battle to the grandmaster of the demonic sects, Cui Youwang. Injured, Yan Wushi entered seclusion—a seclusion that lasted a decade.
During that time, Yu Shengyan continued his training according to Yan Wushi’s instructions and also traveled to many places. His progress put him far beyond where he’d been before; he’d entered the ranks of first-class martial artists within the jianghu3 long ago. But inevitably, because he hadn’t seen his master in ten years, there was a sense of estrangement and unfamiliarity between them. Moreover, Yan Wushi’s martial expertise had only grown more profound while he was away, and so the awe within Yu Shengyan’s heart had grown deeper along with it. So much so that the usual bold and untrammeled behavior that others saw from him became restrained and tentative in his shizun’s company.