Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilds Chapter One Hundred: East or West, It Matters Not

In the afternoon, Yu Ye stepped out of the thatched hut.

For two days straight, it had either been savory fish soup or steaming hot cakes. Having eaten his fill and slept to his heart’s content, he could no longer bear to lie idle. He claimed his illness had greatly improved, and only then did he persuade Uncle Fu and Yingzi to put their minds at ease and allow him to wander about the village.

Fu Family Bend was a small village near a river curve.

South of the thatched hut lay a stretch of riverbank. The grass was lush and green, wildflowers were in bloom, willows cast their shade, and a river more than sixty feet across wound its way around the land. Beneath the trees by the water, several children were laughing and playing.

A gnarled old tree leaned out over the river. Sitting astride its trunk was a little girl wearing a straw hat and bare feet, a bamboo pole in her hand. With rapt concentration, she fished over the water.

Yu Ye strolled along the bank.

He wore rough homespun clothes, looking every inch the child of a farming household, though Yingzi had helped arrange his hair. With his thick brows, starry eyes, and skin like warm jade, he was by no means plain to look at. Yet every movement of hand and foot carried something unlike ordinary men: the steady restraint forged through more than a year of life-and-death trials, and the easy unconcern of one who had wandered the martial world. And when his brow lifted carelessly, there would flicker about him a faint, hidden air of killing intent.

Still, what he liked best was the simple life of fields and cottages, the quiet of a place untouched by struggle. Northern Mound Village, for instance, and this Fu Family Bend. If there came a day when he could leave behind conflict, hatred, and blood-feuds, then he would build a thatched hut in the mountains, clear a patch of wasteland, dig a pond, plant a few willows, farm at sunrise and rest at sunset, listening to the wind pass through the years as he slowly grew old with the seasons.

How lovely such a simple life would be.

Yu Ye bent down, picked up a pebble, and flicked it away.

The stone skimmed across the river’s surface, and a string of tiny splashes bloomed one after another. A few wild ducks were startled up and flapped away to the bank.

Yu Ye smiled faintly, then turned and sat on the grass. He folded his legs, propped his chin on one hand, let his gaze drift with the river into the distance, and let his thoughts rise and scatter with the breeze.

“Big Brother Yu—”

Before long, evening fell, and a figure came running back.

Yingzi was barefoot, her sleeves rolled up. A small bamboo basket hung at her waist, her straw hat slanted over one shoulder, a fishing rod in one hand and several river fish strung together with water grass in the other. Her little round face was flushed red, and her mischievous smile brimmed with pride as she announced, “I’m home!”

Yu Ye rose to meet her and took the fish from her hand.

“Yingzi is truly amazing.”

“Heehee!”

“Careful not to prick your feet.”

“I’m not afraid!”

Yingzi led the way, her tiny bare feet moving in a blur.

Yu Ye followed at an unhurried pace, fish in hand.

Under the sunset glow, cooking smoke curled gently upward. In the dusk, Fu Family Bend looked like a painting, peaceful and serene.

Yingzi’s home consisted of two adjoining thatched huts. Her parents had gone out and had not yet returned, so she lived alone in one. The other two huts belonged to Uncle Fu and Yu Ye. In front of the huts was a small courtyard; on either side stood the kitchen and the well. Beneath the large tree in the middle were a stone slab and several bamboo stools, where the family ate their meals.

Uncle Fu had already started the fire and was preparing supper, while Yu Ye busied himself with cleaning the river fish.

Yingzi set down her straw hat, fishing rod, and the bamboo basket holding the bait fish. She skipped to the well, washed up neatly, put on a pair of embroidered shoes, and then helped with the cooking of the fish and the preparation of the meal.

As night deepened, a lantern was hung beneath the tree.

On the stone slab were a pot of braised fish, a dish of vegetables, several cakes, and a small jar of strong liquor.

The three of them sat together.

Yu Ye and Yingzi ate cakes and braised fish, while Uncle Fu poured himself drinks, content and at ease.

Old Fu was over sixty. In his old age, his eyes had grown dim and his legs were no longer nimble. He said he had tilled the fields all his life and had never once left Fu Family Bend. He was satisfied to keep the village and the stretch of river bend to himself. But the world had changed, and young people liked to go out and make their fortunes. Yingzi’s parents, for example, had gone into the mountains to seek their livelihood. What they called going into the mountains was much like hunting: they would travel a hundred miles to Flying Rosy Ridge to gather herbs and mountain treasures. Not only could this supplement the household, it also let them see the wider world and broaden their horizons.

After the meal, the three of them brought out bamboo stools and sat in front of the hut to enjoy the cool evening air.

A curved moon had climbed to the edge of the sky. A few stars twinkled faintly. A fresh breeze came blowing from the river bend, and the frogs’ croaking and the cicadas’ chirring rose in lively competition.

Uncle Fu began telling stories of his childhood, nothing more than catching fish in the river and climbing trees to snatch birds’ nests, which made Yingzi giggle endlessly. But the little girl was still young, and after playing all day she could not help nodding off against her grandfather’s knee. Uncle Fu fanned himself slowly with a palm fan, watching his granddaughter drift into sleep. With a pampered smile, he said softly, “Heh heh, this child is like a little boy, always mischievous and wild. It’s rare she ever sits still for a moment. Let her go inside and sleep.”

Yu Ye nodded in understanding and stepped forward to carry the sleeping Yingzi. He then went to the neighboring hut, laid her down on the bamboo couch, and gently covered her with a blanket. The little girl remained utterly unaware, still sleeping soundly.

He took a short sword from his storage ring and placed it beside her, then hesitated and took it back again.

Yingzi was innocent by nature and might be a talent suited to the Dao.

Yu Ergou had once said that those who cultivate the Dao are not good people. If that was true, why lead such a pure and lively little girl astray?

Besides, a flying sword was both a treasure and a weapon of slaughter. If anything unforeseen happened, how could he bear it in his heart?

Uncle Fu blew out the lantern and called from the courtyard, “Child, you’ve only just recovered from a grave illness. Your body is still weak, so go to bed early.”

“Mhm.”

Yu Ye answered and walked over, saying casually, “Uncle Fu, don’t you want to ask where I came from and where I’m going?”

“My father used to say two things.”

Uncle Fu fanned himself as he walked into the room, muttering to himself, “First, the old don’t ask the young. Second, do good deeds and ask not what lies ahead; follow where your heart leads, and do not inquire of east or west.” He turned back with a smile and said, “Sleep. We can talk another day.”

Yu Ye stepped forward to support him.

The room was dark, and he was afraid the old man might stumble.

Though Uncle Fu’s eyes were dim and his legs stiff, he knew every piece of furniture in the house by heart and went straight into the inner room to rest.

Yu Ye turned back to the doorway, pulled over a stool, and sat down.

He seemed unable to sleep. Alone in the cool night breeze, he faced the long darkness and quietly kept watch over this small pocket of peace.

Ever since he had gained cultivation and learned how to kill, a mountain boy had become, in others’ eyes, a lofty expert. He himself had also felt that he was no longer what he had once been—that his vision and bearing had risen above the world. Yet now he realized that the principles he understood did not come from cultivation or the scriptures of the Dao, but from the mountains and the martial world, from Ergou and Yu Baoshan, from Feng Laoqi and Mo Can, from Sister-in-law Xiuzhen, from Uncle Fu and Yingzi. It was precisely these ordinary people who had taught him the steadfastness of living and the goodness within human nature.

Of course, there had also been Jiang Xiong, Chen Qi, Nanshan, and Bu Yi, who had shown him how treacherous the world could be and how vicious human nature might become.

And yet, just as the saying went: do good deeds and ask not what lies ahead; follow where your heart leads, and do not inquire of east or west.

Gradually, the night grew deep.

Uncle Fu’s snores came from inside the house.

In the neighboring hut, the sleeping Yingzi was also lost in sweet dreams.

Yu Ye stood up and lifted a hand.

Several gold and silver ingots flew out at once, then slowly settled onto the bamboo couch.

He reached out and closed the door to the hut. Then he went to the neighboring room, closed that door as well, casually picked up a straw hat, and returned to the courtyard. He stood silently for a moment, then shot up from the ground and drifted away with the wind.

...

At dawn, in the mountains, Yu Ye sat beneath a small tree with a map slip in his hand.

After leaving Fu Family Bend, he had hurried there overnight. With daylight just breaking, he took a short rest and used the opportunity to study the route so he could determine his direction.

On the map, Flying Rosy Ridge was easy enough to find. Fu Family Bend lay within its domain, more than three hundred miles southwest of Northern Qi Mountain. Continuing southward all the way to Huazhou Town at the southern edge of the Great Marsh would still require a journey of ten thousand miles, so he might as well search for it slowly along the way.

Only now he no longer had a horse to carry him, and the road ahead would surely be arduous.

Yu Ye put away the map slip and took out a ring.

Looking at it in his hand, he could not help shaking his head.

The few days he had spent in Fu Family Bend were the quietest and warmest, the most peaceful days he had known in the past year. Uncle Fu and Yingzi never asked where he came from; they simply treated him as family. He, in turn, regarded Uncle Fu as a close elder and Yingzi as his younger sister. There was no suspicion between them, only kinship and care, simplicity and kindness.

Yet though Fu Family Bend was tranquil and free of care, it belonged only to Uncle Fu and Yingzi. His own idyllic place lay still far away, waiting for him to find it. So he left without a word, slipping quietly away in the middle of the night.

And after that brief repose, everything returned to what it had been before. The rough road beneath his feet remained just as it was. Countless puzzles still awaited their answer. Deception and bloody slaughter would continue.

Yu Ye gathered his thoughts and looked again at the ring in his hand.

On the final day at Northern Qi Mountain, he had separately killed Nanshan and another Qi-refinement cultivator.

The storage ring of a Qi-refinement cultivator was nothing special; it contained no more than spirit stones, flying swords, elixirs, talismans, cultivation methods, and the like. But Nanshan’s storage ring was entirely different. Even when he activated his divine sense, he could make neither head nor tail of it. Clearly, a strange layer of power had been placed over the ring, not only blocking his divine sense but also sealing the objects within.

Yu Ye held the ring up and examined it closely, yet still could not fathom it.

A reminder sounded in the sea of his consciousness from the shadow of the flood dragon: “No need to look any longer. A Foundation Establishment cultivator’s ring is usually sealed with restrictions.”

“Is there a way to break it?”

“Using the Heavenly Restriction Art would not be difficult.”

“My Binding Character formula in the Heavenly Restriction Art has not even reached the introductory stage.”

“Then you can only force it open.”

“Force it open?”

Yu Ye pondered for a moment. Seeing no one nearby, he set the ring on the ground, drew a short sword, and, taking aim, brought it down with all his strength. Dust and gravel exploded before him, yet the restriction on the ring remained completely intact. He had no choice but to put the short sword away, form a sword seal with his fingers, and flick out a streak of sword qi.

With a sharp crack, the ring was sent flying.

He hurriedly lifted a hand in a grasping motion, and the ring that had flown away was snatched back into his hand from afar.

To break a restriction by resorting to sword qi was a rather costly affair.

Yet a smile spread across Yu Ye’s face.

The restriction had been broken, and the contents of the ring lay plainly before him. Among them were three flying swords, four jade slips, five or six bottles of elixirs, three or four dozen talismans of various kinds, forty or fifty spirit stones, a broken shard of jade, an immortal sect token, and a few miscellaneous personal belongings.