Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wild Chapter Nine: Flight

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……

Yu Ye collapsed into the snow, lifting his head in terror.

On the slope, a new, tall grave mound had appeared, clearly piled up in recent days. Exposed yellow earth mixed with the white snow gave it a particularly desolate look. A few women with children wandered before the grave, sporadic weeping filling the air with despair and sorrow.

“That is—”

“That’s Third Grandpa, Third Uncle, my father, and Yu Baoshan. More than thirty people, all burned to ashes, impossible to tell who’s who, so they had to be buried together like this!”

“Ah…”

Yu Ye’s cry of shock escaped him.

There were only a bit more than thirty able-bodied men in Yu Family Village. Did that mean all those who had gone to Lingjiao Valley to hunt were dead?

Yu Ergou continued to roar, “If you hadn’t run out of the ancestral hall and hidden, how could my father and the others have died so miserably?”

“I ran out of the ancestral hall…?” Yu Ye felt as if he had plunged into a fog, stammering, “You mean… the night we returned from Lingjiao Valley? Uncle Qiu took me out to treat my wounds. I didn’t come down the mountain until today; I know nothing of what happened in the village!”

“Uncle Qiu?”

Yu Ergou glared at Yu Ye, his eyes red and fierce, yet turned his head away, two lines of tears streaking his dark cheeks. He knew Yu Ye hadn’t lied; if not for Uncle Qiu’s treatment, Yu Ye’s injuries wouldn’t have healed so quickly.

Yu Ye asked anxiously, “How did Third Grandpa, Third Uncle, and Fifth Uncle die?”

Yu Ergou could no longer hold back. He squatted abruptly, clutching his head, sobbing, “That night we returned from Lingjiao Valley, Baoshan and I went to the ancestral hall to keep you company, but you weren’t in the backyard. I went out to check and encountered two thieves breaking in. Fearing Baoshan and I couldn’t handle them, I went to find help in the village, but I was afraid my father would scold me for lying, so I hid outside the courtyard afterward…”

Yu Ye slowly stood, numb and dazed.

At that moment, every word from Yu Ergou was like a knife stabbing his heart.

“The two thieves came for you. Not finding you, they beat Baoshan, forcing him to reveal your whereabouts. I didn’t know where you were, nor could Baoshan. In their rage, the thieves killed Baoshan… his head flew several meters, blood sprayed everywhere… Third Grandpa was so terrified he fainted on the spot. Third Uncle and my father refused to yield but couldn’t withstand the thieves’ blades. More than thirty men and youths were slaughtered. I hid in the dry well outside and survived by luck. But the thieves set the ancestral hall on fire—nothing was left but ashes…”

Yu Ergou continued, still weeping, “The widows and orphans in the village blame you for bringing disaster. They tore down your house, and I couldn’t stop them…”

Yu Ye’s vision darkened; a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him.

It was as if he could see the massacre, the blood covering the ground. Those uncles and cousins, who had never courted trouble, had all died miserably in the ancestral hall because of him, Yu Ye.

At that moment, another white-haired old woman, pounding her chest in grief, made her way to the grave mound. Before she even reached it, her sorrow left her voiceless.

“Who were the thieves?”

“You should go!”

“Ergou, do you know who they were?”

Yu Ergou wiped away his tears, waving his hand, “Just leave and go as far away as possible!”

Yu Ye’s lips trembled as he asked again, “Was it Chenqi?”

“So what if it was?”

Yu Ergou jumped up, shouting, “He’s a cultivator, a man of great power. Do you really think you can avenge them? Just go—don’t bring more harm to Yu Family Village!”

Yu Ye shook his head, bitter and anguished.

He had suspected as much, but still could not believe it.

Chenqi, in order to seize the Jiao Pearl, had tracked him all the way to Yu Family Village. The villagers must have known his origins, so he killed them to silence witnesses, bathing the ancestral hall in blood. Had Yu Ye not left, he too would have perished.

It was Uncle Qiu who had saved him!

“Where is Uncle Qiu?”

“Didn’t you say Uncle Qiu took you up the mountain for treatment?”

Had Uncle Qiu not returned to the village?

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“Hurry up and leave, or the village will never know peace!”

“Ergou, do you also think I’ve brought disaster upon the village?”

“……”

“……”

Yu Ergou turned his back.

Yu Ye too fell silent, heartsick.

Two once-close brothers, now strangers after a single calamity.

But Yu Ye understood that no matter what Yu Ergou said or how he treated him, he had no strength left to defend himself, nor any face to plead his innocence. Chenqi, having killed so many, would not let him go. To avoid implicating the women, children, and elders of the village, he had no choice but to leave Yu Family Village.

“I’m leaving—”

After a long silence, Yu Ye managed to say farewell.

He did not leave straight away but climbed the slope and knelt before the tall grave mound. Buried there were the scattered remains of his elders and kin. He kowtowed again and again, heedless even as his forehead split and bled. He regretted swallowing the Jiao Pearl, which had brought such catastrophe, and hated Chenqi’s greed and bloodlust. Now he could only carry hatred and guilt on the road ahead, unsure of where the path might lead.

After bowing dozens of times, Yu Ye staggered down toward the village outskirts. On the way, he met village women and children; he kept his head down, unable to meet their eyes. His tattered robes, bloodied face, and haggard appearance made his figure all the more desolate and disheveled.

Leaving the village, he reached the mouth of Xingyuan Valley.

Dusk had fallen.

Cold winds howled.

The whimpering wind seemed to mourn his departure, carrying with it sorrow and a sense of isolation and despair.

Then, a voice called out—

“Yu Ye…”

Yu Ye stopped.

A familiar figure, panting and out of breath, caught up to him—Yu Ergou. With a thud, he dropped a bundle, gasping, “A wolfskin blanket, keep it for warmth. Cakes, salt, a fire striker—for the journey. The bamboo staff you left behind seems to be Uncle Qiu’s. And…”

Yu Ye stared for a moment, then picked up the bundle and took the staff.

“This hunting knife—take it too.”

Yu Ergou handed over another item, the hunting knife left by his father.

Yu Ye shook his head.

Yu Ergou left the knife on the ground and turned away.

Yu Ye bit his lip, his voice hoarse, “They cannot have died in vain. There must be justice in this world!”

Yu Ergou threw his head back, letting out a long sigh, then walked away without a backward glance.

Watching Ergou’s retreating silhouette and the dusk-shrouded Xingyuan Valley, Yu Ye shouldered his bundle, picked up the knife, leaned on the bamboo staff, and trudged forward, leaving deep footprints in the snow.

Midnight.

The moon hung high.

Yu Ye lay wrapped in the blanket amidst the snowdrifts.

The cold wind whipped snowflakes against his face, but he seemed not to notice, gazing silently at the solitary moon above, his eyes shrouded in gloom. He felt as if he had lost himself in the lonely night sky, helpless and more confused than ever. After a long while, perhaps driven by fatigue, he closed his eyes, curling up in a ball. Suddenly, he howled like a wolf—

“Awooo…”

When he learned of his clan’s tragedy, when he knelt before the grave mound, when he faced the accusing eyes of widows and orphans, guilt and remorse left him wanting to cry, yet he could not. He longed to scream, but dared not. Now, lying alone in the freezing snow, he finally cast off all restraint, letting his grief, anger, and helplessness pour forth in bitter, unrestrained sobs.

His father’s death in Lingjiao Valley grieved him deeply, and the Jiao Pearl had nearly cost him his own life. Yet worse, it led to the massacre of his uncles and cousins. Though the disaster began with him, was it not Chenqi who owed a blood debt? He’d wanted to speak of vengeance, but even Ergou had little faith in such words. Poisoned by the Jiao, his days were numbered—what hope had he for revenge?

Cry, then!

His parents’ spirits in heaven would surely understand his suffering. If there is no justice in the world, someone must rise to defend what is right.

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But after the tears, he would still have to find a way to survive.

……

Lingjiao Town.

A mountain village blanketed in white. The shabby streets were utterly deserted.

But in a stone hut outside the town, two men spoke in hushed voices.

“Are you certain about the beast core?”

“I swear it’s true.”

“If that boy carries a beast core, he must also have treasures from Qizhou cultivators!”

“Indeed!”

“In that case, why not search Xingyuan Valley again?”

“Gu, you killed too many. That boy is scared out of his wits—how could he show himself?”

“Chenqi, what do you mean? I wasn’t the only one killing. Oh? Or did you take the Qizhou treasure for yourself and trick me into a wasted trip?”

The so-called Brother Gu, with the Dao name Gumu, was a burly middle-aged man who paced the hut incessantly. At the mention of treasure, his expression turned ferocious.

Chenqi, Bai Zhi’s senior brother, wore a blue robe, his fair face bearing a constant, faint smile. Seated on a wooden bench, he shook his head unhurriedly, “I didn’t trick you. The boy is just hiding. I had to rush back to the mountain to report and only arrived here today. Besides, I’ve found another helper; we can return to Xingyuan Valley tomorrow.”

“Who is this helper? You don’t trust me?”

Gumu glared, wary.

“He’s a fellow cultivator.”

“Where’s he from?”

“A wandering cultivator. He’s here—”

The closed door creaked open, and in walked a middle-aged man with short stubble, dressed in a fur robe. He was slim and unassuming, with the air of an honest hunter.

Gumu stepped back, puzzled, “He’s just a hunter…”

Before the words were out, Gumu’s expression changed drastically. A sword-light flashed toward his lower back—Chenqi, seated on the bench, had struck while his guard was down. Gumu tried to turn, but his abdomen burst open with a “bang,” blood gushing forth. The man disguised as a hunter put away his sword-light, smiling faintly, “Bu Yi of Qichuan, I’ll see you off on your journey, fellow Daoist!”

“Qi… a cultivator from Qizhou…”

Gumu at last understood the man’s identity, but could no longer speak. He staggered back a few steps and collapsed heavily to the ground.

The man who called himself Bu Yi sheathed his sword, his smile unchanging, “What my companion said is true—Qizhou has been called Qichuan since ancient times.”

Chenqi jumped down from the bench, delighted, “Brother Bu, your cultivation is truly admirable!” He took a jade ring from Gumu’s hand, presenting it respectfully. “This belongs to you, Brother Bu. I wouldn’t dare presume upon it.”

Bu Yi accepted the ring, examined it briefly, and shook his head, “There’s nothing from the immortal sects you mentioned on him. Why did you want me to kill him?”

“Well…”

Chenqi hesitated, then replied cautiously, “There’s already a clue regarding the immortal artifact. Over ten days ago, I went with Gumu to Xingyuan Valley to search, but he killed dozens of hunters and the treasure vanished. I suspect he kept it for himself. Thanks to your help, Brother Bu, but who could have guessed…”

“You’re indeed cautious!”

Bu Yi praised, then turned to leave, saying, “You’re a local, so things will be easier for you. I’ll rely on your efforts. You’ll be well rewarded in the future!”

“I shall serve with all my heart!”

Chenqi glanced at the corpse on the ground, a cold smile curling at his lips…