Volume One: First Steps in the Martial World, Chapter Seven: The Daoist's Bluff Resembles a Charlatan, and the Young Lord Encounters the Wicked Sword Immortal on His Journey

Daoist Fuming cast a devilish smile at Ximen Qing and said, “Very well, since we’ve met today, let me read your fortune.” With that, he closed his eyes, his left hand’s fingers moving as if calculating the secrets of fate—a perfect picture of a master. The crowd watched the young priest with great interest. After about a dozen breaths, Fuming opened his eyes and said to Ximen Qing, “The karma here runs deep. It is not suitable for others to hear. Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

Ximen Qing, half skeptical, stepped down from his carriage and approached the Daoist. “I beg you, enlighten me,” he said.

As he drew near, Fuming leaned close and whispered softly in his ear. The onlookers burned with curiosity, but soon saw Ximen Qing’s expression change to one of utter shock—he staggered back two steps, staring at Fuming in disbelief. Then, collecting himself, he bowed deeply. “I, Ximen Qing, failed to recognize a true master. I hope you won’t hold my ignorance against me.”

Fuming smiled, “In your fate, a calamity awaits. A gentle breeze cannot dispel a bloody disaster.” With these words, he turned and walked away.

Ximen Qing hurried after him, calling, “Master, please, honor my humble home and let me host you properly.”

The Daoist glanced at him and replied, “Though I am but a hermit from the mountains, no city or fortress can detain me.” He melted into the crowd and was gone.

Watching the disappearing figure, Ximen Qing murmured, “I was too forward. Such an immortal as this cannot be enticed by mortal hospitality.” He returned to his carriage and ordered his servant, “Drive carefully. Mind the people.”

The crowd, though unaware of what the priest had whispered, had seen Ximen Qing’s transformation with their own eyes and felt newfound reverence toward the Daoist path.

Fuming slipped into the crowd, turning down a side street. When he was sure no one followed, he let out a quiet laugh. “Now I finally understand why Master chose to become a charlatan. All you need is a trick or two to awe the world, and you’ll never want for a living.”

Elsewhere, in Bingzhou, Little Rock’s sworn brother, Wang Er, was at home packing his things. The man he’d seen at the stall that day was undoubtedly Little Rock, but his disguise and curt manner left Wang Er perplexed.

That night, as Wang Er was closing his stall, he discovered a letter pressed beneath his wares. On the back, Little Rock had written: “Brother, my fate on this journey is uncertain. I entrust you with this letter—deliver it to Prince Liang at all costs. The road will be perilous; first see your family safe.”

Wang Er recalled their days together and the kind of man Little Rock was. They were brothers who had braved death together. Without hesitation, Wang Er hurried home. With no family left, he packed a few changes of clothes and whatever money he had, ready to set out.

He knew this journey to Liangzhou might well be a death sentence, but though he was no scholar, he would never abandon a brother’s trust.

As soon as darkness fell, Wang Er locked his door and set off for Liangzhou.

Outside Liangzhou City, Chu Mingxuan and the chubby lad rode side by side down the official road. The chubby one glanced at Mingxuan and asked, “Mingxuan, where’s our first stop? You ought to give me a straight answer at least.”

Mingxuan smiled, “Since we’re out wandering, we’ll just go where the road takes us.”

After a pause, the chubby one said, “Mingxuan, if we run into danger and I tell you to run, you mustn’t look back. Your life matters more than mine.”

Mingxuan stopped, his smile fading. He turned to his friend. “No one’s life is worth more than another’s. I may be the young lord, but that’s just a starting point—maybe a better one, but still only one life. Back at Mingxin Lake, if not for you, I’d have drowned long ago. Must you shield me again? In all Liangzhou, if I am the greatest wastrel, you’re the second. Even outside Liangzhou, we must keep up our foppish act. Otherwise, how could we hope to make it back alive?”

Just then, an amused voice came from above. “In all my years, it’s the first time I’ve seen someone take pride in being a wastrel. If playing the fool could save your life, you’d be better off relying on your own skills.”

Both looked up to see an old man perched on a tree branch overhead, drinking from a gourd and regarding them with a grin.

Mingxuan called out, “Old beggar, you’re the first in Liangzhou to speak to me like this. Do you know who I am? No? Then let me tell you—my father is the infamous—no!—the illustrious Prince of Liangzhou.”

The old man chuckled. “If your father were here, I’d show him some respect. As for you, you’re just a snot-nosed brat. Why should I respect you?”

Mingxuan was momentarily speechless, but the chubby one stepped forward. “Elder, may I ask what brings you here? It’s desolate in these parts. Would you like us to escort you to the next town?”

The old man glanced at him, took another swig, and said, “Now here’s a promising lad.” He leapt down, dusted himself off, and said, “I heard you two were going on a journey. As it happens, I’m of the same mind. Why not travel together?”

Chubby smiled, “It would be our honor to have your company, Elder.” He dismounted, led his horse to the old man, and said, “We only have two horses, so please, take mine.”

The old man smiled approvingly. “A teachable child.” With a nimble vault, he mounted the horse and glanced at Mingxuan. “As for you, you’re hopeless.”

Mingxuan flushed with anger. “Old man, are you taking advantage of my youth?”

Paying him no heed, the old man took a long drink and, with a command to the horse, set off along the road.

Mingxuan grumbled to his friend, “Are you out of your mind, giving him your horse? What if he runs off with it?”

Chubby just laughed, “Don’t worry about it.”

Mingxuan shrugged, “Well, don’t just stand there. Hop on.”

“I’ll walk and lead your horse,” his friend replied, and so the three of them ambled on.

By noon, they reached a small town not far from Liangzhou’s city. The streets were bustling with people. Mingxuan, seeing the lively scene, thought traveling might not be so bad.

The old man spoke up, “You two, old man’s hungry and the gourd’s dry. How about a good meal at that tavern up ahead?”

Mingxuan sneered, “If you want to eat, go ahead. Why ask us?”

Chubby replied, “If you’re hungry, Elder, let’s go order a table—and we’ll refill your gourd with wine.”

Since his friend agreed, Mingxuan didn’t object. They led their horses to the inn, where the attendant hurried to take their mounts. “Right this way, honored guests!”

They strode in. Another attendant greeted them. “How many in your party? This way, please.” He led them to a corner and wiped the table repeatedly.

“What would you like to order?” he asked.

The old man sauntered to the seat of honor and declared, “Bring your finest dishes—all of them! And your best wine!”

The attendant bowed and looked at Mingxuan and Chubby. Chubby nodded, “Do as the elder says.”

“Right away!” The attendant called out as he left, “Best dishes for the guests! Finest wine coming up!”

Chubby and Mingxuan took seats. Chubby watched as the old man propped one foot on a stool and picked at his teeth with his pinky, retrieving bits from his last meal and swallowing them unashamedly.

Mingxuan was speechless. He’d always thought himself quite crude, but this old man was truly a master of the art.

“Elder, may I ask your name?” Chubby ventured.

The old man slanted a glance at him. “Names don’t matter much, but folks call me the Wicked Sword Immortal.”

Chubby’s jaw dropped. Mingxuan looked unperturbed, not knowing the name’s significance.

“You’re the eccentric, slovenly swordsman, the third-ranked Wicked Sword Immortal?” Chubby exclaimed.

“Slovenly fits. As for third in swordsmanship, that’s just old talk,” Mingxuan interjected with a look of disdain.

The old man ignored Mingxuan and turned to Chubby, grinning. “No need to call me third. That was years ago. Who’s first now, who can say? Still, you’ve got promise, boy.”

Just then, the attendant arrived with two dishes. “Braised lion’s head, yellow-braised pork hock—more fine dishes coming right up!” He set them down and departed.

Mingxuan reached for his chopsticks, but the Wicked Sword Immortal said with a wicked smile, “If you don’t want to die with not even your bones left, you’d best wait.”

“Old man, must you meddle even when I eat?” Mingxuan snapped.

Chubby quickly pulled Mingxuan back. “Elder, have you noticed something?”

The old man replied, “You’re a good lad, so I’ll help. You’ve made plenty of enemies.” He scanned the room with a grave look.

Chubby’s heart skipped a beat. “So close to the prefecture, would they dare make a move?”

“They’re desperate men. If the prize is great enough, there are those who’d storm even the Prince’s manor,” the Wicked Sword Immortal replied, tying his gourd to his belt.

“Well, since Chu Fan and I go back, I’ll help. Listen, boy,” the old man said to Mingxuan, “pretending to be a wastrel won’t save you. If you have the heart of a tiger and dragon, you’d better have their strength, too. Otherwise, your father’s life is wasted—a family built, yet not a single proper prodigal to squander it.”

With these words, the old man rose. Suddenly, his aura transformed—the slovenly air gone, replaced by a formidable presence. Chubby stepped in front of Mingxuan, pushing him into the corner.

“So, you recognize me as the Wicked Sword Immortal and dare not make a move? But even if you don’t, do you think you can escape my sword?” he said to the empty air.

Without their noticing, all the patrons had left the tavern, and even the street outside was deserted.

A voice echoed through the inn, “I never imagined Chu Fan would call on you. That’s a problem—but I’d like to see if the third-ranked Wicked Sword Immortal lives up to his name.”