Translator: Palvi
Chapter 5: Sudden Change
Since ancient times, righteousness and evil have stood irreconcilable, with the people of the Jianghu regarding the divide between the orthodox yet righteous faction and demonic factions as clear-cut. However, there have always been those who cross the boundary, boldly stepping over the world’s moral lines, turning themselves into thorns in society’s side.
Some are swiftly plucked out and crushed, while others embed themselves deeply, taking root until they become unfathomably dangerous.
The former are mostly ambitious but foolish vagabonds, like toads aiming for swan meat—whose wants exceed their grasp. They may dream of great achievements but spend their lives floundering in the puddle, causing at most minor inconveniences to the great sects. These individuals are never seen as true threats; the vast expanse of the Jianghu has no trouble accommodating such clowns, living off scraps, waiting for death.
But in the dark, murky depths of the Jianghu, those who can be counted among the latter are few—so few that only the Baigui Sect stands tall, towering over all. Not only do they straddle both the righteous ⁰and demonic paths, but they also act on whims, unafraid of stirring up trouble, and are especially adept at resolving it.
No one knows how many people walk the Jianghu, and likewise, no one knows how many “ghosts” exist within the Baigui Sect. They have no past, no future, but lurk in every shadow of the present, clinging to their prey like maggots to the bone, never stopping until death.
They deal in intelligence, assassination bounties, toxic medicine trades, weapons, and hidden devices. There is nothing they won’t dare do, and if there ever were, it would only be because the sect master’s brain had momentarily faltered.
The Baiguis are rarely seen in person, only in shadow. Of the few known by name, the Ghost Doctor, Sun Minfeng, is one.
A healer should have a benevolent heart, and possess the skill to bring people back from the brink of death. The latter description fits Sun Minfeng’s unmatched, god-defying medical skills, but the former? Placing those words on him would be nothing short of an insult. Anyone seeking his help must be either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.
Why? Because a doctor cannot heal themselves, and Sun Minfeng suffers from an incurable affliction—one that affects his mind.
Half-mad, half-awake, unpredictable in temperament.
As the wind and rain swept across the balcony, the scent of something subtle and intoxicating lingered in the air, casting a silent shadow.
Xie Wuyi removed his cloak, revealing a long robe of black patterns on a white background. Sitting across from his guest, his face was gaunt, his brows furrowed, and his pale lips, tinged with blue, pressed into a thin blade—cold, though not aggressively so, yet chilling to the bone. “The Ghost Doctor’s request is too much,” he said.
Across from him sat two individuals. The black-clad youth, who had earlier exchanged glances with Ye Fusheng, sipped his tea leisurely, as though he were a Buddha statue seated upon an altar. The other, a man dressed in simple clothing, appeared to be in his thirties. His features were delicately drawn, with dark brows and soft lips, exuding an ethereal charm. Yet, when he lowered his gaze and slightly smiled, a strange allure seeped from him, like a streak of dark ink on pristine porcelain.
Sun Minfeng casually sprinkled a white powder into his tea, stirring it lazily with a silver needle. The room quickly filled with a heady, intoxicating aroma, more fragrant than wine, yet more potent.
He drank it in a way akin to cows chewing peonies and smacked his lips in satisfaction. “It’s not that I’m forcing you—either accept this difficult task or sit here waiting for death. Your choice.”
Xie Wuyi’s hand rested on the table, his knuckles taut and veins bulging, though his voice remained calm. “I can die, but I refuse to live as a cripple.”
Sun Minfeng said nothing, but the black-clad youth beside him raised his head. “I’ve heard that you did not accept the challenge letter sent by the Zanghun Palace. As of now, the name of Duanshui Manor has yet to appear on the battle roster.”
Xie Wuyi’s expression remained impassive. “Trivial matters are not worth dirtying my hands over.”
“So, does that mean Duanshui Manor’s place on the roster will remain vacant?” The black-clad youth set his tea down, his tone playful. “Master Xie, there are many eyes on Duanshui Manor right now. Whether you decline or accept the challenge, every move you make carries weight… Sending Miss Xue on a thousand-mile journey to invite the Ghost Doctor here—isn’t that a choice already made? What we ask for isn’t much, just the Duanshui Sword. Is it more important than your life?”
“It is,” Xie Wuyi replied.
“Now I want it even more.” The youth smiled. “Master Xie, Duanshui Manor is surrounded by enemies. In your current state, can you withstand both overt attacks and hidden threats? The Duanshui Sword’s weight may be more than your life, but compared to the manor, which is heavier?”
Xie Wuyi studied him for a moment before reaching for the teapot and pouring a cup of tea for his guest. “And you are…?”
“My surname is Chu, Chu Xiwei,” the young man in black said, raising an eyebrow as his fingers slowly stroked the rim of the cup. “I’ve long heard of the ‘First Blade Under Heaven’. Meeting you today, I find the reputation far exceeds reality.”
“The martial world is full of those who fish for fame and empty praise, like carp crossing the river. Xie never dares to claim to be the ‘first’.” Xie Wuyi smiled slowly, his eyes lifting slightly as his lips curved, giving the impression of a man in his thirties with a hint of charm. However, his gaze was cold—dark and deep, reflecting a chilling light, like a blade silently drawn from its sheath.
“The eighty-two battles of the Western Regions made your name famous throughout the world. At the Martial Sword Conference, you defeated all the great heroes. The once-famed ‘Wan Yueying’ and the awe-inspiring ‘Jinhong’ have both vanished from the world. Now, only the ‘Wan Yueying’ remains. If your reputation is mere vanity, then who in the martial world dares to stand tall?” Chu Xiwei chuckled softly. “What disappoints me is that you can take up the blade, but you cannot let it go.”
Xie Wuyi squinted his eyes. “The master of the Baigui Sect is indeed well-informed. However, the affairs of the world can never be fully controlled. Sect Master Chu knows only one part and not the whole. It’s easy to speak without having been in such a position.”
Sun Minfeng downed the remaining tea in the pot and interjected, “If the two of you are done with your mutual admiration, can we return to business? I wonder, Lord Xie, will you trade the Duanshui Blade for the chance to reshape your bones and veins, or will you shut the doors and let your estate fall with you?”
Xie Wuyi replied, “Such matters require careful consideration.”
“One, two, three… Can you give us your careful answer now?”
“Mr. Sun,” Chu Xiwei pressed down on Sun’s shoulder, “The Sword Conference starts in seven days. Lord Xie is more anxious than we are. Why rush now?”
Sun Minfeng fell silent, chewing the tea leaves from his cup, while Xie Wuyi rose and said, “I will give my answer tomorrow. Chanyi, escort our guests to the Song Tao Courtyard.”
At that moment, a servant came running in disarray, whispering hurriedly into Xue Chanyi’s ear. The young lady’s face quickly filled with anger.
Xue Chanyi, holding back her fury, signaled the steward to escort the guests away. Then she rushed to Xie Wuyi’s side, speaking urgently, “Master, someone broke into the Lingbo Pavilion and stole the Duanshui Blade! The guards are chasing them near the ‘Wang Haichao Cliff’!”
A sharp crash echoed as the teacup shattered on the ground. Xie Wuyi’s expression turned icy in an instant.
Guyang City was built into the mountains, with three sides surrounded by peaks and one side facing water, offering countless valleys and wild forests. Though the Duanshui Manor had lost much of its former glory, it was still vast, with over ten li [one Li is about 500 metres] of mountainous terrain stretching beyond its borders. It could retreat into the wilderness or blend into the bustling city.
“Wang Haichao Cliff” was a broken precipice behind the Duanshui Manor, known for its steep cliffs and jagged rocks. Below the cliff flowed a large river, its currents unpredictable—sometimes roaring like crashing waves, sometimes still as a cold pool. Any moment of carelessness could lead one to be swept away by the hidden undercurrents. Even the most seasoned swimmer would be dead within moments, their body surfacing belly-up in no time.
The Duanshui Blade technique was inspired by the concept of slicing water, with its combination of raging torrents and long, continuous streams. This technique was developed from the insights gained from the Wang Haichao Cliff, where each generation of manor lords practiced their swordsmanship. The cliff was a sacred site for the manor, where each deceased lord’s ashes were scattered into the river, allowing them to return to the world.
Night had deepened, and the wind and rain howled. The torches flickered, barely staying lit before being snuffed out by the downpour. The guards of the Duanshui Manor had finally cornered the thief near the edge of the cliff. The thief was a sturdy man, dressed in short, dark attire, clutching the long blade and scabbard tightly in his arms. As the guards closed in, he backed away nervously. A stone unexpectedly slipped from beneath his feet, tumbling down the cliff, causing him to break into a cold sweat.
He was trapped, with nowhere to go.
In the pitch-black darkness, Ye Fusheng, who was half-blind, thrived. His eyes saw clearly in the night, like a cat skilled in lurking. He was perched silently among the branches of a tall tree, so still that even the sound of rain striking the leaves was more pronounced than his presence. Not a soul detected him. From his vantage point, he could see not only the chaos unfolding but also the strange movements on the cliff below.
When the trouble at Lingbo Pavilion began, he hadn’t cared to get involved. Led by a maid, he made his way to Xie Li’s courtyard, only to find it eerily quiet upon arrival. The little rascal was gone.
The missing young lord was currently wearing a serious expression, climbing a steep mountain wall far away from the chaos. The wall was close to the cliff, and the jagged rocks concealed his small figure. If it weren’t for Ye Fusheng’s night-piercing eyes, he would never have spotted the reckless boy scaling the dangerous terrain.
Ye Fusheng didn’t care about the affairs of the manor, but since he had been entrusted with a task, he had to see it through. If anything happened to this child, his reputation would be tarnished. But Xie Li, despite his young age, displayed remarkable agility. He moved nimbly along the cliff, like a human gecko. To avoid startling the boy and causing a fatal slip, Ye Fusheng had no choice but to remain hidden, watching every move carefully.
About half a cup of tea’s time passed before Xie Li finally reached the bottom of the cliff. Rather than climbing up, he hid himself in a concealed spot, standing on a large rock.
The thief, perhaps stealing for the first time in his life, was more panicked than a street thief caught red-handed. His face flushed as he realized there was no escape. He clutched the scabbard even tighter, coming perilously close to falling over the edge several times.
Xue Chanyi finally arrived. She said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin line, and lashed her whip out at the man. Instinctively, he raised his arm to block, only to remember too late that he was holding the Duanshui Blade. In a desperate twist, he turned his back, taking the full force of the whip.
Xue Chanyi’s brows furrowed in anger. “You dare steal from us? Return the blade at once!”
The man hissed in pain. “Call your master out to speak with me!”
Xue Chanyi, fiery despite her size, lashed out again, her whip swirling like a dragon emerging from water. Gritting his teeth, the man finally drew the Duanshui Blade. As the whip coiled around the blade, the man swung, and with a single cut, Xue Chanyi’s whip was severed!
From his perch, Ye Fusheng shook his head and muttered to himself, ‘Fighting a woman and using a weapon to boot. Truly disgraceful.’
The whip recoiled from the blow, snapping back and leaving a bloody mark on Xue Chanyi’s hand. Her hand now bore a deep crimson welt, the skin peeled back. She discarded the whip and reached for the red ribbon around her waist, but before she could act, a hand pressed gently on her shoulder.
“Master Xie is here. What do you wish to discuss?”
Ye Fusheng, who had been lounging lazily, suddenly sat up straight. The sight of the man stepping forward caused his blood to rush and his mind to ring, his hands involuntarily gripping the tree trunk, leaving deep marks.
Xie Wuyi stood beneath an oiled-paper umbrella, dressed lightly as if he were a scholarly gentleman on a leisurely stroll. The rain fell heavily, but his only sign of dampness was a slightly wet hem of his robe. His face was sharp and gaunt, his eyes colder than the edge of any blade.
Xue Chanyi stepped back. “Master!”
The thief, intimidated by Xie Wuyi’s presence, almost stumbled backward off the cliff. He clutched the Duanshui Blade tightly, though it was clear that his bravado had crumbled. No matter how the rumors of the past three years had portrayed Xie Wuyi, seeing him now—calm and poised—recalled the fearsome manor lord who had once dominated the martial world, perhaps even more terrifying than before.
He now resembled a tiger that had descended from the heavens, transformed into a wolf, ready to tear its prey apart.
Standing seven paces away, Xie Wuyi repeated, “Master Xie is here. What do you wish to discuss?”
The thief took a deep breath and stiffly replied, “I dare not instruct you. I only ask one thing—why do you refuse the Sword Duel challenge?”
Ye Fusheng, hiding in the shadows and having just calmed his mind, found this amusing: ‘The emperor isn’t anxious, yet the eunuch is worried to death.’
Xie Wuyi glanced at the man and then at his hands, asking, “You wield a blade too?”
The man puffed out his chest. “Yes! I am—”
“I’m not interested in knowing who you are,” Xie Wuyi interrupted with a cold sneer. “Taking without asking makes you a thief. Do you think that just because I didn’t accept the Sword Duel challenge, I have no right to hold the Duanshui Blade, and now you’ve come to take it and fight in my place?”
The man stiffened his neck and said, “So what if I have? The Zanghun Palace is an evil sect, and everyone should eliminate it. You, as the manor lord of Duanshui Manor, should be upholding justice, but instead, you avoid battle and turn away challengers. Do you know how many heroes have been left disheartened by this?”
“How shameless,” came a voice from the crowd, echoing exactly what Ye Fusheng had been thinking. Surprised to find a like-minded individual, he glanced at the speaker and realized it was the black-clad guest he had noticed earlier.
The master of the Baigui Sect, never one to shy away from causing trouble, stepped forward, holding an umbrella. Dressed in narrow-sleeved black clothing, his features were strikingly sharp, and a mocking smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve seen little of the world, but to hear such shameless words dressed up as righteousness is truly eye-opening. My thanks to you for this lesson.”
His words were cutting, but unfortunately, Chu Xiyu, with his delicate, handsome face, looked like someone who lived off others, and he had encountered a dim-witted brute. The man retorted immediately, “Who do you think you are?”
Chu Xiyu smiled faintly, his eyes lowering. A ghostly chill emanated from him, sending a shiver down the spines of those who saw it.
Ye Fusheng turned his gaze away, thinking: A Black Mountain Demon disguised as Nie Xiaoqian*.
“Enough,” Xie Wuyi waved a hand, his gaze as sharp as a blade. “What do you want?”
“The Zanghun Palace has been arrogantly seizing famed weapons, and the righteous heroes are all outraged,” the man declared loudly. “Manor Lord Xie, if you accept the Sword Duel and stand up for the martial world, proving that Duanshui Manor is not just an empty name, then I’ll return the blade to you. If not, I’ll pass it on to another hero, for I won’t let the Zanghun Palace continue to run rampant!”
“Good, good, good…” Xie Wuyi repeated the word three times, expressionless. The people around him felt a chill run down their necks, as if a blade had just skimmed past.
The paper umbrella in his hand spun suddenly, sending raindrops flying through the air toward the man. He immediately bent low to dodge, but Xie Wuyi had already struck with his palm, his fingers like blades, now mere inches from the man’s throat!
The man quickly drew his sword to block, but Xie Wuyi’s finger pressed against the blade, and it was the man who was pushed back. He had been standing at the edge of the cliff, and now, before he could make a sound, he tumbled backward. Xie Wuyi’s brow furrowed as he swiftly changed his palm into a claw to grab him, but the man’s eyes flashed with a hint of malice, and he deliberately dodged Xie’s grasp, falling off the cliff along with his sword.
Almost at the same moment, a small figure leaped after him. Xie Li kicked the man’s hand aside and, with a hook and flick, caught the Duanshui Blade in his hand. But the boy was too young and exhausted from his earlier exertions; he couldn’t keep his footing. If he hadn’t grabbed onto a rock just in time, he would have been hanging a foot below the cliff, swaying like dried meat. Otherwise, he’d have fallen into the waters below.
This all happened in the blink of an eye, and everyone was stunned by the sudden turn of events. Xue Chanyi’s face turned pale as she cried, “Xiao Li!”
Xie Wuyi’s expression changed instantly, and without thinking, he jumped down. But someone pulled him back—Chu Xiyu had leaped ahead of him.
But it was too late. The rock Xie Li was holding onto gave a cracking sound under the weight, and the boy’s face turned deathly white as he plunged downward.
Even at this moment, he still clung tightly to the Duanshui Blade.
Chu Xiyu’s hand almost reached him, but all he managed to grab was a piece of the boy’s clothing. Before he could even frown, a blur of blue flickered past his eyes, so fast that he couldn’t see what it was.
- Baigui Sect- Hundred Ghost Sect
- Wan Yueying: ‘Moon-Shadowed Duanshui Blade’
- Jinhong: ‘Soaring Crane Cut’
- Song Tao: Pine Wood
- Lingbo Pavillion: Raising Wave Pavillion
- Wang Haichao: Sea-tide Watching
- A Black Mountain Demon disguised as Nie Xiaoqian: Nie Xiaoqian, a well-known character from Chinese folklore or literature. Nie Xiaoqian is most famously featured in the classical Chinese story Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio (聊斋志异) by Pu Songling, where she is depicted as a beautiful female ghost. In this context Chu Xiyu is is like Nie Xiaoqian an is using his beauty to disguise his actual personality.
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