Chapter 11

The blade sliced deftly through flesh, yet spared tendon and bone. Yet Ye Fusheng dared not move he could only gingerly pinch the blade, terrified that even a slight slip would cost him his finger.

At the tremble of the blade, he hurriedly released it. Xie Wuyi sheathed the knife and looked at Ye Fusheng with measured emotion.

“In the Forbidden Grounds, I suspected your finger had the ‘Jinglei’ trait. But ‘Jinghong Dao’ has vanished for ten years I had to test that suspicion… Ha, indeed, these are troubled times.”

Ye Fusheng bowed his head in shame. “Your sect’s honor precedes me; I dare not claim it.”

swords, halberds, hooked spears the martial world is full of colorful weapons and grandiose nicknames. Any half‑capable fighter can christen themselves, but few earn true renown. In a century’s eye, only a handful of figures dominate.

One poem encapsulates its greatest:
“One sword pierces the clouds, cleaving heaven and earth. Three blades divide currents, deciding the world. East and West, Buddha and Dao vie in turn; South and North, Confucian scholars and heroes debate who stands higher.”

The “three blades” refer to the famed sword‑cutters: Duan Shui, Wanyue, and Jinghong. In the last century, Wanyue came first, Jinghong second, Duan Shui last. Wanyue’s lineage dwindled under female disciples, Jinghong was a comet blazing but brief, leaving only Duan Shui intact today.

But beauty fades and heroes end.

Jinghong’s Heir

By responding, Ye Fusheng admits: he is the current master of Jinghong Dao.

Xie Wuyi nods. “Your move, Nianhua, was well‑executed. If you’d had a Jinghong blade and used Baihong to slice my left arm, I wouldn’t have let you escape so easily.”

Ye Fusheng wiped the blood from his hand with a cloth and smiled wryly. “I came to dispel doubts not to make enemies.”

Ice in Xie Wuyi’s eyes softened slightly. Ye Fusheng wiped the sweat from his brow. “Stories come in two kinds: idle gossip, or events that actually occurred. Which kind is this, Lady Rong’s tale?”

Xie Wuyi counters, “Is that what you mean to clarify?”

Ye Fusheng awkwardly rubbed his nose. Xie Wuyi laughed a sound devoid of his usual chill, laced with scorn. “What you truly want to know is… how can there be two Xie Wuyis? Are you facing the real master of Duanshui Manor? And who is the man that entrusted you with the jade pendant?”

Ye Fusheng exhaled, clasped his fists, and bowed. “Yes I rashly offended the master. If this matter is of consequence, I won’t trouble you again.”

Xie Wuyi asks, “Why risk the wrath of Duanshui Manor for someone unrelated?”

“A drop of water should be repaid with a spring,” Ye Fusheng began, “especially when it is…,” he set his hand down, “a life‑saving kindness.”

Xie Wuyi frowned. “He saved you?”

“If not, he wouldn’t have died.”

The candlelight flickered, elongating their shadows. Xie Wuyi sat silent for a long moment, then abruptly swept the half‑opened window shut against the night wind.

“Rong Cui’s tale was real. I am Xie Min and he is as well.”

He poured tea warm water, a remedy substitute. Half a cup slid into Ye Fusheng’s hands. The taste was flat, the silence heavy.

“I wandered with my mother in the Western Regions, ignorant of my father. Even when Rong Cui appeared, I held resentment first for his absence, then for childhood memories of his kindness. Thirteen years ago, after I avenged my mother, he sent a letter asking me to return home with her ashes. I agreed without hesitation.

“From Western Regions to Central Plains, I met old Jianghu acquaintances who spoke of Duanshui Manor having an heir. I was glad, but dared not reveal myself. When I finally saw him beneath the manor gate, I trembled he wore a mask and robes to hide ravaged flesh.”

Nervous at a reunion, he continued:

I wanted to speak at length. So did he. I sent Rong Cui to rest and stayed to drink with him through the night, tears falling on my mother’s ashes. He spoke gently. By dawn, I removed my mask my scars revolting even to me.

“His eyes lit up then. I thought I saw tears but it was resolve.”

He drank. Resolve hardened his face again.

“He led me into the Forbidden Grounds under Wanghai Tide, saying he’d reveal a secret. There I saw a man who resembled myself and him in youth. I guessed at once: my father had taken a love‑child with a courtesan. My mother had torn that woman’s face apart, swearing they’d never meet but the next year, he brought that child home.”

Poignantly, Ye Fusheng understood the scars in that place.

Xie Wuyi, eyes distant: “Hidden in the Forbidden Grounds, locked away. I was meant to be the next heir. No one was ever told the truth.”

Ye Fusheng pieced the timeline. Xie Wuyi was thirty‑four, imprisoned at twenty‑one released ten years later. That matched the duel at Lingyun Peak three years ago, where one man was injured, the other vanished. A thunderbolt of realization struck Ye Fusheng.

Xie Wuyi continued:

“I escaped in the eighth year, used my skills to slip into the manor and find Rong Cui. She was practicing whip‑technique alone. When she saw me, I urged her to leave with me. But before she could speak, father and the heir arrived Rong Cui let go of my hand.”

Ye Fusheng’s heart skipped a beat.

“She didn’t disappear because of fear she married the heir, bore him a son named Ali. They lived happily and I was the disruption nobody wanted.”

Ten years can mend or shatter everything.

“She cared for me. But to save herself, she let me rot. I obsessed with escape but when I finally burst out, I challenged her husband on Lingyun Peak.”

“And that is when rumors began some say you poisoned him.”

“I wouldn’t stoop so low. I fought fair but that man wasn’t weak.”

Ye Wuyi replied: “We were evenly matched. Dead or alive it was up to fate. But someone panicked.”

“A father, terrified of losing a perfect heir. A wife, unwilling to lose her new husband or deny her son a father.”

“We both fought and both were wounded. But before the end, Rong Cui had poisoned father’s blade an unseen venom that triggered my lingering toxin. After over a hundred strikes, I weakened and lost.”

Ye Fusheng murmured, “Women’s hearts are unpredictable.”

“Rong Cui knew my weakness. In fury, I lashed out at her. He saved her life instead of slaying me. Instead, I changed tactic cut the target’s right arm veins.”

Ye Fusheng gasped. Xie Wuyi said: “I paused in laughter, coughing blood. I asked, ‘Now that his arm is useless, will you still support him?’ A father only values the clan. At that, father drew his blade to kill the perfect heir. I rejoiced until he grabbed me and we both fell from Lingyun Peak.”

They fell down the cliff, brambles breaking their fall. Yawning world came back to him in a cave there he saw his enemy, lame and limping, handing him wild fruit: “Eat first dying here would be wasteful.”