Chapter3

Night fell. The vast sky was cloaked in ink, and rain poured down in torrents. In Guyang City, not a soul could be seen in the streets or alleys. Every household had shut its doors tightly.

Yet behind the rear courtyard of the Duanshui Manor, the sound of chopping rang out incessantly.

A boy, no older than ten, dressed in a fitted black training outfit, moved in a raw, intricate footwork pattern. Gripping a wooden blade that was clearly too large for his frame, he swung it down again and again at a stone pillar taller than himself.

Despite his tender face, his expression was solemn and cold. Though drenched to the bone and with palms reddened from the impact, he continued his strikes with methodical discipline. Pale white marks marred the stone surface, and fine, web-like cracks had begun to appear.

A man stood beneath the eaves, cloaked in a fox-fur lined mantle. Watching the boy practice in the rain, he suddenly raised his hand sending a walnut flying through the downpour. It struck the boy squarely on the wrist.

His hand trembled under the blow, and the already cracked skin split further. The wooden blade slipped from his grasp. His eyelashes fluttered as he bent to retrieve it, but another walnut struck his knee, making him stumble forward. He just barely caught himself on the ground, avoiding a full sprawl.

From beneath the eaves came a cold voice.

“Come in.”

The boy slung the wooden blade across his back, soaked through like a river sprite just crawled out from the water. He stood obediently before the man.

“Father.”

“Xie Li, how many times have I told you…” The man’s tone was sharp.

“For a martial artist, a weak grip and unsteady stance are the gravest flaws. You’ve trained for three years and made no progress whatsoever. What a disgrace!”

Though he bore handsome features sword brows and starry eyes his face was pale with illness. Coughs escaped him now and then. He was barely past thirty, yet a deathly weariness clung to him like a shroud.

This was Xie Wuyi, master of Duanshui Manor.

His wife had died of illness two years prior, leaving him with only this one son. By rights, the boy should have been cherished like a precious gem but in reality, he was treated more like a discarded scrap of meat or a flawed trinket bought by a blind pawnbroker.

Up before the roosters, to bed after the dogs. The characters for “calligraphy and martial training” pressed down on the boy like an unshakable mountain. It was tolerable in the early years, but recently, it had become pure torment.

Ever since Xie Wuyi’s incident, his temperament had turned erratic, and his treatment of his son grew more and more severe. Even the manor servants often looked on in pity but what could they say? A master’s child, whether fine jade or rotten wood, was not theirs to judge.

Xie Li swallowed the words forming on his lips, silent as a toad hunkering down with qi in its belly.

Xie Wuyi scolded him a few more times, then flung his sleeve and left, face twisted in disdain and impatience.

After he’d gone, Xie Li raised his right wrist. A dark purple bruise bloomed where the walnut had hit. The pain still throbbed, his arm trembling faintly. Without a word, he rubbed it, eyes full of unspoken grievance.

Footsteps approached.

Xue Chanyi came over with a silk handkerchief, gently dabbing the rain from his face. She sighed.

“Scolded again?”

Xie Li remained mute as a gourd, but someone behind her piped up,
“Poor kid. Your master’s methods are inhumane.”

Startled, Xie Li realized Xue Chanyi had brought someone with her.

The man wore a sky-blue robe with close-fitting sleeves, a wide belt bound by a dark indigo sash. His black hair draped over his shoulders, his features were sculpted like a painting. He looked to be around Xie Wuyi’s age and build, though more unrestrained and far less withered.

This was Ye Fusheng.

Half an hour earlier, he’d cleaned himself up to look somewhat presentable, then strolled into Duanshui Manor with nothing but charm and shamelessness, tagging along behind Miss Xue. He’d been on his way to find a midnight snack in the kitchens when she heard about her master scolding her young martial brother again and rushed over, worry clouding her beautiful face. Of course, she couldn’t lash out; after all, it was her master doing the scolding. So all she could do was sigh and gently massage Xie Li’s bruises.

Xue Chanyi, just sixteen, was already infamous in Guyang City as a fierce and formidable “night terror.” Few knew she had such a soft, feminine side.

Ye Fusheng found the contrast fascinating. He also found the boy’s mule-stubborn demeanor rather amusing, so he cracked a joke only to be met with a stony glare and a voice uncannily like Xie Wuyi’s.

“Duanshui Manor does not permit outsiders to trespass. Who are you to speak ill to the master?”

Well, well.

Ye Fusheng squatted down to meet his eyes, grinning.
“I’m the new hire your Sister Xue invited in with great pomp and ceremony.”

“…”

“Ye Fusheng!” Xue Chanyi gritted her teeth. “Stop spouting nonsense!”

“Alright, alright. No grand sedan chairs. But I am the new hire,” he waved a hand, and a small oil-paper packet appeared in his palm filled with neatly cut pieces of candy.

Before she could scold him again, a piece of candy flew into Xue Chanyi’s mouth. A rich osmanthus sweetness exploded on her tongue, muffling the sharp retort forming on her lips. Her almond eyes narrowed, but he only gave her a cheeky grin.

“My lady, don’t be angry. This osmanthus candy is fresh in one bite, and you’ll sweeten your words. No need to sully your mouth with curses.”

She bit down hard on the candy, as if chewing someone’s bones. Yet her ears flushed red.

Xie Li stared in a daze. His young mind had never been filled with romance, but right now it was getting quite the dose of honeyed nonsense.

His mouth parted slightly and Ye Fusheng slipped in a piece of candy. A spicy-sweet flavor burst across his tongue. His cheeks flushed red, but his manners held: he resisted the urge to spit it out, chewing and swallowing with great difficulty. His eyes welled up with unshed tears.

Xue Chanyi frowned.
“What did you give him?”

“Candy,” Ye Fusheng replied innocently. Then added, “Ginger candy. He’s been soaked in rain for ages. Gotta drive out the chill.”

She sighed, defeated, and patted Xie Li’s head.
“Xiao Li, go bathe and change. I have words with this fellow.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath to clear the lingering taste, and asked sternly,

“Who is he?”

“A new guard I hired. Don’t worry.”

Only then did the boy trot off, little feet thudding on the wet tiles. Ye Fusheng watched him go, squinting.

“Good kid,” he said. “Just a bit too solemn.”

“My master’s always been strict with him,” Xue Chanyi murmured, massaging her temples. “I’ve arranged everything. You’re free to move around the manor, so long as you don’t break rules or stir up trouble.”

“And what exactly am I expected to do?”

She lifted her eyes.
“Keep an eye on Xiao Li for me.”

Ye Fusheng raised a brow.
“The young master of Duanshui Manor needs me, a wandering vagabond, to look after him?”

Forget the other guards wasn’t Xie Wuyi himself enough to protect his own son?

If not… then perhaps the title “First Blade Under Heaven” was indeed a hollow one.

She didn’t answer his sarcasm. Instead, she asked,
“Did you notice anything when you entered the city today?”

“A lot of people,” Ye Fusheng said with a wry smile, sucking on a candy. “All sorts of Jianghu folks. Every inn packed to the brim. I had to bribe a servant just to get a stable room and hot water.”

Xue Chanyi sneered,
“They close in from all sides like maggots on a bone. Infuriating.”

Ye Fusheng tossed another candy into his mouth.
“They’re here for the manor… or the master?”

Her voice turned frosty.
“They’re here for the First Blade Under Heaven.”

Ye Fusheng fell silent.

Xue Chanyi inhaled deeply.
“Have you heard of a man named Li Feng?”

“If you mean the one from the Soul-Burial Palace of Mysterious Ridge… I’ve heard of him.”

In the southwest, deep in a fog-laden valley known as Mysterious Ridge, lay the den of the demonic sect known as the Soul-Burial Palace. It was home to outlaws, exiles, fallen nobles creatures of the Jianghu who had abandoned their past lives.

There, names meant nothing. Only the fiercest dogs were granted one.

Li Feng twenty-five, head of the Azure Dragon Hall, and one of the Palace Master’s most trusted men was such a dog. A wolf, rather. Once he had your scent, escape was impossible.

Xue Chanyi’s lips pressed together.
“The Palace has long lingered in the southwest. But in recent years, with wars stirring along the borders, their influence has grown. And now… they’re turning their sights to the Central Plains.”

“The Wulin of the Central Plains is a tangled mess of grudges and rivalries. If they strike directly, they’ll set the world ablaze. So they need a warning shot… a chicken to scare the monkeys,” Ye Fusheng coughed.

“Duanshui Manor one of the great houses. Xie Wuyi the famed First Blade. Supposedly a tough nut to crack. Unfortunately…”

“Unfortunately, ever since that incident three years ago, the world believes my master is a broken blade. All title, no edge,” she said coldly.

“The Soul-Burial Palace has initiated a Struggle for Supremacy seeking to claim seven famed blades of the righteous path. Duanshui’s is the fifth.”

Ye Fusheng asked,
“Then those rumors
truth or smoke?”

She stared at him, long and hard.

“Ye Fusheng, you’re a clever man. You know the answer.”

A fine mess, he thought.

Then sighed.
“I owe you a great debt, Miss Xue. I’ll protect the young master with my life.”

“Then do not fail me.” Her voice turned sharp as her whip. “If anything happens to Xiao Li even if you dig yourself into the ground I’ll exhume your ancestors and grind your bones to dust.”

“If you break your promise, I will never rest in peace.”

Two voices echoed as one, piercing into Ye Fusheng’s heart. His vision blurred. Pain lanced through his right leg. He clutched his chest where a silk pouch and jade pendant rested.

“Are you alright?” she asked, reaching to steady him.

He staggered, and in the confusion, his hand brushed her waist.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

But the scoundrel wore a face of pitiful innocence.
“Cough, cough… Apologies. I couldn’t see clearly.”

She clenched her teeth.
“The tournament begins in seven days. More people will arrive in Guyang daily. The manor can’t afford to shut its doors. You, half-blind as you are stay close to Xiao Li and don’t cause trouble. Some guests… are not to be trifled with.”

Ye Fusheng yawned.
“In that case, have someone lead me to the young master’s courtyard. It’s a long night, and I’m quite sleepy.”

Xue Chanyi’s fingers itched. Her whip twitched at her waist.

Just then, the clatter of hooves echoed from the front gate. Someone had arrived.

At such an hour. In such a storm.

She gave a servant quick instructions to escort Ye Fusheng, then hurried to greet the guest.

As Ye Fusheng passed through the long corridor, he stole a glance back under the lantern light. He saw her moving swiftly to meet a group of people. The leader closed the paper umbrella, revealing his face.

Young, yet devoid of youthful bluster. Dressed in black, skin pale as paper, brows like blades, eyes deep as wells. Strikingly handsome with lips the color of fresh blood. A blade itself, sharp enough to seal a throat at a single touch.

….
T.L/N

‘Xiao’ means a ‘little’, or ‘young’