Shen Qiao briefly explained the connection between Shiwu and Bixia Sect. He even had Shiwu show him the wooden plaque as proof.
Fan Yuanbai accepted the wooden plaque and examined it for a moment. “Indeed, I’ve heard of Zhu-shishuzu,24 though when it comes to what happened, I know little of the details. Given that, would the two of you mind coming with me up the mountain? This way, I can report the matter to my master and elders.”
“Thank you, Fan-langjun,” said Shen Qiao. “Just now we saw many broken swords and bodies along the way. Surely you know what’s happening atop the mountain?”
Fan Yuanbai smiled bitterly. “It’s quite the coincidence. For the past six months I was home visiting my family, and I’ve only returned to the sect today. The moment I arrived at the foot of the mountain, I realized something was wrong. The disciples on duty there were nowhere to be seen. I ran up the mountain, stricken by panic and alarm, then happened to encounter the two of you. I thought…”
He’d thought them to be enemies, not allies.
“If that’s the case,” said Shen Qiao, “let’s not waste any more time here. We’ll hurry up to see what happened. If nothing’s wrong, that would at least put our hearts at ease.”
Fan Yuanbai quickly concurred and joined Shen Qiao and Shiwu in their journey up the mountain.
But the higher they climbed, the more on edge they became, as if their hearts were suspended above an abyss. For as they went farther, all they saw were more and more swords and corpses. Fan Yuanbai held fast to his composure at first—he even bent to examine the bodies and check if anyone was still alive. But by the end of their journey, his face and lips were bloodless and pale, and he was unable to utter a single word.
With Fan Yuanbai, Shen Qiao and Shiwu learned that there were Bixia Sect disciples among the dead—the majority of them, in fact. It wasn’t clear who the other corpses were, but on their weapons—they’d also used swords—were carved the characters “Dongzhou.”
Perplexed, Shiwu asked, “What kind of sect is Dongzhou?”
As a newcomer to the jianghu, he assumed his ignorance was due to his limited understanding, but unexpectedly, Fan Yuanbai only frowned, unspeaking.
Instead, Shen Qiao answered. “There’s no Dongzhou Sect in the Central Plains, but there is one in Goguryeo.”
Only then did Fan Yuanbai say, “That’s right. They claim to be the largest sect in Goguryeo. I’ve heard of them too. But Goguryeo is a foreign country—they’ve never had anything to do with Bixia Sect. Why would they show up here?”
The conversation didn’t slow them down. The mountain summit loomed closer and closer, and they could already hear the clash of blades drifting across the distance.
Shen Qiao even caught the sound of people yelling and cursing.
Fan Yuanbai put on some speed, running up ahead with his sword already drawn.
Shiwu tugged at Shen Qiao. “Shen-shi,” he whispered, “you can follow behind me. There are a lot of dead bodies on the ground.”
Warmth flooded Shen Qiao’s heart, and he nodded, accepting the boy’s kind gesture. “All right.”
He’d mentally braced himself, but what Fan Yuanbai saw still sent agony spearing through his heart.
His sect, once so calm and peaceful, had been transformed into a sea of blood. Inside the sect gates were scores more corpses, their blood pooling into narrow streams that slowly trickled away and out of sight.
For Shiwu, who hadn’t yet joined Bixia Sect, the deaths of the sect’s disciples were not personal. With Shen Qiao at his side, he could still keep a calm and composed face. But for Fan Yuanbai, it was almost too much. These were the martial siblings with whom he’d spent each day from dawn to dusk, who were as close to him as his real family. Some of them had even teased him before he’d left, fussing that they wanted him to bring them back some treats or toys, yet now they could only lie on the icy ground, never to speak again.
Fan Yuanbai’s eyes were red, his grief and hatred slowly mounting. When he saw two groups of people battling each other in the distance, he gripped his sword and charged forward without the slightest hesitation. But just as he was about to enter the fray, he froze.
Both factions of fighters were dressed in the clothes of Bixia Sect disciples, and he saw familiar faces on both sides.
“Li-shidi! Qiao-shidi! Stop! What’s going on?!”
But everyone was in the thick of battle, completely absorbed in the fight. No one paid him any attention as the clash of weapons rang out endlessly, dazzling light glinting off their blades.
Fan Yuanbai couldn’t understand what was happening. Why, after a single trip away from the mountain, he’d returned to this scene of his sect slaughtering one another.
The tumult in his heart left him distracted. And so, he failed to notice the sword that thrust toward his back.
But before the ambusher could drive his sword into Fan Yuanbai, he screamed and dropped his weapon, then fell to ground howling and squirming, clutching his wrist.
“Watch out behind you.” Shen Qiao’s voice came from behind, even and composed.
Fan Yuanbai’s senses returned a little, and he turned to thank him. Then he yanked up his attacker, only to realize that it was another Bixia Sect disciple.
“Elder Lu’s disciple Xue Qi? Why did you attack me?!”
Xue Qiao looked at Shen Qiao, who’d just cut the tendons of his wrist with a single blow. He turned fearful and said, “The…the real sect leader returned…but your shifu, Elder Yue, refuses to step down from his position as acting sect leader. He ordered his disciples to war with us…”
The more Fan Yuanbai heard, the more confused he became. Finally, he had to cut in. “Nonsense! His whole life, my shifu devoted his heart and soul to the common good! Why would he refuse to step down or whatever?!”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” yelled Xue Qi. “I was acting under orders, don’t kill me!”