SS Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Night Conversations

 

That night, the Duanshui Manor remained brightly lit throughout. It wasn’t until the hour of mao (around 5 to 7 a.m.) that Sun Minfeng pushed open the door. His plain white robes were stained with patches of blood, and he looked utterly disheveled.

 

Ye Fusheng raised his hand to shield his eyes from the early morning light and teased, “Oh my, were you treating patients or killing people?”

 

“Slaughtering pigs!” Sun Minfeng was utterly exhausted. He let out a cold sneer as he pushed away the people standing outside. “I’ve done everything I could. Now, don’t bother me!”

 

With that, he collapsed against Chu Xiwei, bonelessly leaning on his master’s back, and immediately began to snore.

 

Chu Xiwei handed him off to the attendants standing behind him and offered an apologetic smile, “In that case, we’ll take our leave for now.”

 

Xue Chanyi quickly took care of various matters, ensuring everything was in order, and then led Xie Li as they cautiously entered the room.

 

Ye Fusheng, understanding his place, stayed outside. He caught a whiff of a strong medicinal scent, mingled with the smell of blood. Xie Wuyi’s voice filtered through the door—though it was somewhat weak, his spirit seemed good.

 

It was unclear what had been said inside, but before long, Xue Chanyi and Xie Li emerged. The young boy’s eyes were slightly red, and he sniffled from time to time.

 

Ye Fusheng rubbed his tired eyes. Just as he was about to take the young master back for a nap, Xue Chanyi called out to him, “Ye Fusheng, my master wants to see you.”

 

She spoke with a raised brow, her face full of puzzlement. She couldn’t fathom what connection this wandering rascal, newly arrived, could have with the master of Duanshui Manor. Her beautiful eyes blinked, silently urging him to confess whatever secrets he might be hiding.

 

To her surprise, the half-blind rogue conveniently chose this moment to ignore her signals, cheerfully pushed open the door, and entered, leaving the two of them staring blankly after him.

 

As he stepped inside, the medicinal smell grew stronger. Fortunately, there was only one candle lit in the room, and the dim light allowed his eyes to adjust quickly. The bed was empty, but steam rose from behind a screen.

 

A low, raspy voice came from behind the screen, “Come over here.”

 

Ye Fusheng hesitated for a moment before walking over. He saw that Xie Wuyi was soaking in a huanghuali wooden bath barrel, with everything below his chest submerged in a dark brown medicinal bath, emanating a strong herbal aroma.

 

There was a cut on his lips, likely caused by the pain from the needle extractions earlier. He had bitten himself so hard that blood still lingered on his lips.

 

As Ye Fusheng approached, Xie Wuyi opened his eyes and said, “Add more hot water for me.”

 

“Master called me in just to find a servant?” Ye Fusheng chuckled as he lifted the water jug and poured a stream of scalding, dark brown medicinal water into the tub. Xie Wuyi remained expressionless, seemingly unfazed by the heat.

 

This was only their third meeting, and Ye Fusheng had already realized that Xie Wuyi’s temperament was far from the gentle elegance that rumors suggested. Instead, it was sharp and imposing, making him feel that the rumors were utterly unreliable. However, at this moment, Xie Wuyi seemed like a sheathed blade, with all his edges concealed, giving Ye Fusheng the fleeting impression that he was seeing someone else through him.

 

Lost in thought for a moment, Ye Fusheng didn’t notice when Xie Wuyi’s hand shot out from the water, gripping his wrist tightly. After holding it for a moment, Xie Wuyi remarked, “Your internal energy isn’t from Duanshui Manor.”

 

Ye Fusheng feigned innocence. “I never claimed to be from Duanshui Manor.”

 

“Is Ye Fusheng your real name?”

 

“It is now.”

 

“Earlier, I suspected you were lying, but now…” Xie Wuyi smiled ambiguously. “How did he die?”

 

Ye Fusheng replied, “Who are you referring to?”

 

Hearing this, Xie Wuyi’s grip tightened, and the three fingers clasping Ye Fusheng’s pulse gate almost dug into his flesh. Realizing it was best to avoid immediate trouble, Ye Fusheng quickly corrected himself, “Oh, you mean the person who gave me that jade.”

 

Xie Wuyi repeated, “How did he die?”

 

“Pierced by a thousand arrows. It was tragic.”

 

Xie Wuyi froze, and Ye Fusheng took the opportunity to pull his hand back. “He died beyond the border, and his bones were buried in the desolate wilderness. If you plan on seeking revenge, you’d better forget it.”

 

“Revenge… Ha.” Xie Wuyi’s lips curled into a faint smile. “What did you call him?”

 

Ye Fusheng chuckled, “Where I come from, no one has a name. It wasn’t until his death was imminent that he entrusted me with that jade pendant. Only then did I see the character on it and realize his surname was Xie… Tsk, it seems he has quite the fate with the Manor Lord. Who knows, maybe they were even family five hundred years ago.”

 

Xie Wuyi asked, “Do you want to know what his name was?”

 

Ye Fusheng put down the water kettle and said, “Please enlighten me.”

 

Xie Wuyi responded, “His name was Xie Min, styled Wuyi.”

 

The room fell into an eerie silence.

 

After a moment, Ye Fusheng made a puzzled sound, “Huh? Manor Lord, your answer is beyond my understanding. There is only one Sword Under The Heaven in this world, everyone knows your illustrious reputation. How could anyone dare impersonate you? Ah, if that were true, I’d be relieved he died outside the Pass, or else being cut in half by your sword would have been even more pitiful.”

 

Xie Wuyi sneered, “How do you know the one cut down by the sword wouldn’t be you?”

 

Ye Fusheng slowly replied, “Because the tendons in his right hand were severed. Surely the Manor Lord knows this better than anyone?”

 

“Then, do you want to know why I crippled his hand?” Xie Wuyi raised his eyes. “But first, tell me—who exactly are you? What is your relationship with him? Where has he been hiding for the past three years, barely clinging to life?”

 

Ye Fusheng immediately answered, “We are both men cast adrift by fate, bonded by shared life-and-death experiences. Sadly, being nameless people, we had no choice but to do shady work just to survive.”

 

Xie Wuyi stared at him, carefully contemplating these cryptic words for a while. Then, his body moved suddenly, and his left hand gripped the edge of the bucket, his knuckles making a faint creaking sound.

 

The world is vast—three mountains, five peaks, five lakes, four seas. But no matter how high the sky or how wide the seas, as long as there are people, there will be the martial world. Among so many eyes and ears, how could one completely erase all traces of a person’s existence, leaving no ripples?

 

It’s simple: under the whole heaven, every inch of land belongs to the king.

 

“Heh, so he became a lapdog for the imperial court. Not bad…” Xie Wuyi sneered. “But you are even more impressive. As the saying goes, ‘Once you enter the imperial halls, it’s like sinking into the ocean; if not dead, it’s near impossible to escape.’ He died because of it, but you—you’re still alive.”

 

“The net of heaven is vast, but it does have gaps. I was merely lucky.”

 

“If I say you are skilled, don’t be modest. Do you think it’s easy for me to praise someone?” Xie Wuyi’s expression turned cold. “However, a dog remains a dog. No matter what, it cannot change its nature to eavesdrop… Disguised in a silk cocoon to infiltrate the manor, then taking advantage of the chaos to trespass with A-li into the forbidden Sea Tide Hall. You, an outsider, have meddled in so much—what is your purpose?”

 

Ye Fusheng sighed, “Why is it that people who sincerely help always get suspected of having ulterior motives?”

 

“Better to have good intentions mistaken for malice than to be stabbed in the back.”

 

Ye Fusheng consoled, “Once bitten by a snake, one will fear even a rope for ten years. The manor lord’s words are understandable.”

 

“You’ve met Rongcui, haven’t you?” Xie Wuyi smirked coldly. “What did she tell you?”

 

Ye Fusheng turned pale. “I thought the manor lord’s wife, who passed away two years ago, would share some strange tales of resurrection, but it seems women just naturally enjoy gossiping about trivial matters. In the end, she filled my ears with talk of grudges and entanglements.”

 

“What grudges and entanglements?”

 

“Gratitude for upbringing, resentment for abandonment, camaraderie through hardship, and hatred bound by life and death.” Ye Fusheng took two steps back and spread his hands. “If the Manor Lord is interested, I’ll recount it slowly.”

 

Xie Wuyi smiled ambiguously.

 

“About thirty years ago, a prominent figure in the martial world was at the peak of his youth. Not only was he revered for his martial prowess, but he also married a beautiful woman from the Western Regions, a renowned poisoner. Everyone envied him. Unfortunately, after three years of marriage, the poisoner, having long delved into poisons, suffered bodily damage and bore no children. The martial figure, believing ‘of the three unfilial acts, the worst is leaving no descendants,’ began frequenting pleasure boats and brothels. He not only got involved with a famous courtesan but also impregnated her before his wife, with the pregnancy already advanced. Hah, reputation is everything in the martial world, and the poisoner was proud and fierce. This betrayal lit a fire in the back courtyard, causing a tremendous uproar.”

 

As Ye Fusheng spoke, he glanced at Xie Wuyi, who extended his thin arm to retrieve the outer robe placed nearby.

 

“The poisoner didn’t bother killing the defenseless courtesan, but she didn’t let her off easily either, throwing a cup of medicinal tea at her, turning her once-beautiful face into a disfigured wretch. Her husband, ashamed and enraged, was about to discipline his wife when he discovered she was pregnant. Swallowing his anger, he soothed her with gentle words, finally making peace. They reconciled, no longer caring about the courtesan, who was nearly due, for how could the bastard child compare to the legitimate son of such an esteemed couple?” Ye Fusheng shook his head. “But alas, perhaps the heavens do have a sense of justice. By destroying the courtesan’s face, the poisoner ruined half of her life, but she also met a bitter end herself. She took forbidden medicines to conceive, straining her body to give birth, but the toxins inside her passed to the unborn child. Her son was born with a strange illness. Despite having excellent martial potential, his body was covered with peculiar red marks, and as he grew older, these marks deepened in color. By the time he was seven, the darkest areas began to fester.”

 

Xie Wuyi slowly rose, pulling the robe over his body. His inner strength instantly evaporated the water droplets on his skin, and his long hair hung loosely behind him.

 

“The long-awaited heir turned out to be like this. The father couldn’t accept it, and in his rage, he fought violently with the poisoner. Eventually, in her fury, the poisoner took her son and left for the Western Regions, hoping to find a way to save him.”

 

Xie Wuyi tied his robe and reached for a hairband embroidered with begonia flowers. He gathered his long hair, tying it high, and the last trace of illness faded from his face, making him seem even more commanding and formidable.

 

Such a man—just a glance at him made you feel like an ant looking up at a towering tree. And if he looked at you, it felt like he regarded you as nothing more than dust.

 

Yet Ye Fusheng still smiled, a warm smile like the spring breeze in February, dispersing all the clouds and fog.

 

He continued, “After returning to the Western Regions, the poisoner went into hiding, fully immersing herself in the study of poisons. Given her many past enemies, she feared her son would be lonely, so she bought him a girl three years his senior to be his servant and playmate. The girl was charming, her personality sweet, and she treated him as if he were her own kin. Several times, she risked her life to protect him. On one occasion, she even had half a finger bitten off by a lone wolf to save him. The boy, grateful, couldn’t bear to see her as just a servant, so he begged his mother to take her as a disciple, teaching her poison techniques and martial arts. Seeing her brows as green as distant mountains, he named her ‘Rongcui.’ A year later, the poisoner found a poisonous herb called the ‘Hundred-Day Poppy’ and used it to suppress the boy’s internal toxins by fighting poison with poison. Unfortunately, after the process succeeded, the poisoner lost all her martial abilities due to the drug testing and was ultimately killed by her old enemies. They chopped her body into pieces and fed it to animals. The two children could only bury the remains in secret, living in the shadows, wandering from city to city in the Western Regions, constantly on the run while training in martial arts.”

 

Xie Wuyi pulled on his robe, picked up the Duanshui Sword from the stand, and slowly unsheathed it, wiping it gently with a cloth.

 

“Time flew by. The girl grew into a beautiful woman, and the boy became a sixteen-year-old youth. However, because of the toxins that ravaged his body, leaving few patches of healthy skin, he constantly covered himself, leaving only his face visible to maintain the appearance of elegance. The boy, gifted from a young age, had memorized his family’s sword techniques, though without fully understanding them. However, he gleaned enough insight to create his own set of techniques, and over the next five years, as he sought revenge and faced challenges, he gradually perfected this sword style. It consisted of thirteen moves, with which he nearly became invincible in the Western Regions. Many people asked for his name, and he recalled that when he left home at seven, besides his mother, only one thing truly belonged to him: the name his father had prepared for him before he was born—’Min,’ meaning ‘a gentleman like jade.’” With a slight smile, Ye Fusheng continued, “He said his name was Xie Min, and soon his reputation spread from the Western Regions to the Central Plains. When he and his mother had left home, his father, in order to save face, told everyone they had gone to the Western Regions to cultivate in seclusion. Thus, when people heard of Xie Min, they praised him as a worthy successor. After nine years of separation, his long-lost father finally sent him a letter, asking about his experiences and urging him to return home as soon as possible.”

 

Ye Fusheng glanced at Xie Wuyi, watching him slowly put down the cotton cloth, his fingers tightening around the blade’s hilt.

 

“He thought about his mother’s dying wish to be buried in the family’s ancestral tomb and wanted to seek justice for all the suffering he’d endured over the years. So, he took Rongcui back to his hometown. The Central Plains’ heroes praised him, and his father, whom he hadn’t seen for nine years, personally rode out on horseback to greet him and bring him home. The reunion between father and son was touching, and even the deepest grudges could be temporarily set aside. They drank together, and the father admitted his past mistakes, vowing to make amends. However… after a few rounds of drinks, the father caught a glimpse of the hideous scars exposed on his son’s hand.” Ye Fusheng took a deep breath. “Though the poison in his body had been suppressed, there was no telling when it might flare up again. His life hung by a thread, and with his body covered in poisonous wounds and lingering illness, no matter how extraordinary his martial arts were, he was unfit to bear the responsibility of continuing the family line. How pitiful!”

 

Xie Wuyi stood up, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he looked at Ye Fusheng.

 

“So, that night, the father took him into the family’s forbidden grounds. In the pitch-dark secret chamber, he saw someone—a person about his age, who resembled him in appearance. At the moment he laid eyes on this person, he was stunned. In that brief instant, his father, who was right beside him, suddenly struck, knocking him unconscious…”

 

Before the words had finished, Ye Fusheng felt a blur in front of his eyes. Xie Wuyi was already upon him, slashing down diagonally with the Duanshui Blade, as swift and unstoppable as a waterfall crashing down, smashing rocks and splitting cliffs!

 

It was the same move, “Flying Stream,” that Xie Li had used.

 

The same technique, the same blade, but wielded by a different person, made all the difference.

 

No one could see just how fast this slash was, and even if they could, it would be near impossible to dodge.

 

Ye Fusheng didn’t evade. His left hand rose naturally, and before it even touched the blade, invisible blade energy had already left a thin cut on his skin. However, like a delicate woman in a red chamber picking a flower, his fingertips lightly brushed against the blade, his wrist rotating. Blood flowed from the wound to the base of his thumb, and yet, he pinched the blade between his fingers, stopping it just inches from his neck.

 

Ye Fusheng met Xie Wuyi’s gaze and continued, “Before he lost consciousness, the last thing he heard his father say to that person was, ‘From now on, you will be Xie Min.’”