Chapter 8

For the master of Duan Shui Manor to appear in his own forbidden ground there was, of course, nothing unusual about that.

What gave Ye Fusheng a headache was that this Master Xie looked at him not with suspicion, but with a gaze as sharp as a blade icy cold, utterly distrustful. Clearly, he had already learned of Ye Fusheng’s background from Xue Chanyi.

“Ye… Fusheng?” Xie Wuyi slowly pronounced his name, his thin lips curling like a perfectly honed blade. “How’s the young master?”

“Blessed by the stars, he’s safe and-”

Before Ye Fusheng could finish, Xie Wuyi flipped his wrist. Flames ignited the paper of the lantern he carried, instantly turning it into a fireball hurled straight toward him.

The manor lord’s blade was as fast as thunderclap. This was no casual strike.

Ye Fusheng dodged just in time, but Xie Wuyi was already upon him. A calloused hand gripped his right shoulder, pressing down with force. Already weakened, Ye Fusheng’s right leg buckled under the weight.

His knee was just about to hit the ground when his body slipped free like a slick fish. Xie Wuyi let out a cold laugh and moved again, body flowing like water, wrapping around him like a serpent soft, strong, inescapable.

Circling behind, he locked Ye Fusheng’s throat with one hand and stepped into the back of his knee. The outcome seemed sealed.

But in that critical instant, Ye Fusheng jabbed a finger into Xie Wuyi’s wrist, sending a blast of inner force into the joint. Xie Wuyi paled, and Ye Fusheng folded himself like a reed, breaking free.

The flaming paper lantern finally hit the ground, burning itself out.

Both men looked worse for wear. Ye Fusheng clutched his chest during that scuffle, the embroidered pouch hidden inside his robe had been snatched away.

Xie Wuyi toyed with the pouch and said blandly, “Good fingerwork. Good qinggong… Quite the skillset.”

“The manor lord as well. Those three soft-style techniques clearly draw from the ‘entangle’ form of the Duan Shui Blade. I pale in comparison.” Ye Fusheng stepped forward. “But… that pouch was a gift from the dead. I ask that you return it.”

“Return it?” Xie Wuyi sneered. “Everything of Duan Shui Manor is mine by right.”

He drew a white jade pendant from the pouch a pristine piece of mutton-fat jade, carved with a miniature relief of Wanghaichao on the back and a single, fiercely sharp “谢” (Xie) on the front.

His fingers traced the carved character slowly. His voice dropped to a raspy whisper: “This is the heirloom of Duan Shui Manor’s masters. It was lost three years ago. I’d very much like to know how you obtain it.”

Ye Fusheng didn’t flinch. In fact, he seemed even more righteous as he extended his hand. “I told you it was passed on by someone already dead.”

His voice was calm, but Xie Wuyi’s body jolted violently.

He stood like a great tree weathered by years of wind and rain scarred, yet unbowed. But now, for the first time, he swayed, as though dying from the roots upward.

Blood drained from his face. He staggered two steps back, clutching the jade tightly.

“Dead…?”

Then came the coughing. Violent, uncontrollable. His frail body curled into a bow, trembling on the verge of breaking only to straighten again by sheer will.

Ye Fusheng watched him. “Yes. The one who gave me that jade is gone.”

Even before he finished, he had already leapt back, narrowly dodging Xie Wuyi’s next palm strike. This one was no test the blade-formed palm sliced open the skin on Ye Fusheng’s neck, a thin red line appearing.

Then..

wham!

A ghostly shadow surged out of nowhere. A fist intercepted Xie Wuyi’s palm, while another arm swept Ye Fusheng away and planted him safely aside.

Only then did Xie Wuyi calm. He lit a wall lamp with a flint spark and saw the man clearly.

“Master Chu.”

“Ah, Manor Lord Xie.”

Chu Ximei, still blind, turned slightly toward the sound. He had waited beyond the Dragon-Severing Stone with Xie Li, but when Ye Fusheng didn’t return, he came alone led by the sound of fighting.

Letting go of Ye Fusheng, he said with a smile, “We’re even now.”

Ye Fusheng scowled at how the tables had turned, then asked, “Where’s the young master?”

Before Chu Ximei could answer, soft footsteps echoed behind them. Xie Li emerged through the stone gap, and the moment he saw Xie Wuyi, he stood straight and called, “Father.”

Ye Fusheng noted that the word “Father” was spoken like a courtier greeting his emperor proper, distant, devoid of warmth.

After the greeting, Xie Li lifted the Duan Shui Blade above his head with both hands. Xie Wuyi walked forward, face unreadable. He took the blade in one hand and slapped him hard with the other.

Smack!

The blow turned the boy’s face to one side. He barely stayed upright. A red mark swelled visibly across his cheek. His eyes glistened but not a tear fell.

Both Ye Fusheng and Chu Ximei frowned. Xie Wuyi looked down coldly.

“Do you know why I hit you?”

Xie Li shook his head, his eyes defiant and wronged.

“A man must know when to advance or retreat. Must judge the time and the situation. Have I not taught you that?” Xie Wuyi’s hand clenched into a fist.

“Who told you to chase the thief? Who gave you the nerve to climb Wanghaichao? Who taught you to risk your life and not abandon your blade?”

“But you said… a warrior’s weapon is their hands and feet. The Duan Shui Blade belongs to”

Another smack. Ye Fusheng sighed, covering his face.

“Crude as it is,” he whispered to Chu Ximei,

“the kid kind of had that coming. That blade’s almost as long as he is and he thought he could take on the world. If he were my son or disciple, I’d have made him write ‘I’ll never do it again’ a hundred times on his knees.”

Chu Ximei rubbed his own cheek subconsciously, as if recalling an old trauma.

Another slap. Now both sides of Xie Li’s face were red. He stared, dazed.

“Yes, the Duan Shui Blade is your future burden. But-” Xie Wuyi crouched, locking eyes with him, “I am still alive. It’s not your turn to risk your life.”

“But…”

“Or do you believe the rumors? That I’m crippled, unfit to be manor lord? That a child like you must carry my legacy?”

Xie Li frantically shook his head. “No, Father! I don’t, I never-”

Xie Wuyi looked at him and, at last, smiled. He gently wiped the boy’s tears.

“Then remember this. While I live, your only duty is to grow. Once I’m gone… all I carry becomes yours. Don’t run from it. Don’t flinch.”

Xie Li finally broke down. He had always been an obedient child, quiet even in the cradle but now, he sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to his father.

Xie Wuyi sighed an ancient sound, heavy with years. Just for a moment, the cold edge faded, revealing exhaustion and age. Then it vanished.

He turned, blade in one hand, son in the other, once more the aloof master of Duan Shui Manor.

He looked to Chu Ximei. “Master Chu, I accept the offer. Please inform Mister Sun I’ve made up my mind. Tonight, we begin unsealing the pins.”

Unsealing the pins?

Ye Fusheng furrowed his brow but said nothing.

“Truly… unexpected,” said Chu Ximei. “You’ll only get one shot. Are you sure?”

“No doubt,” said Xie Wuyi.

“Thank you for your aid. After the gathering, the Duan Shui Blade is yours. But…”

Chu Ximei smiled, curious. “But?”

“But when A’Li comes of age, I’ll ask for it back. I hope you’ll oblige.”

Xie Li shivered. He didn’t understand the weight behind those words but it crushed him like a mountain.

Chu Ximei paused. Then he smiled. “If I’m able, come and claim it.”

“Thank you.” Holding his son, Xie Wuyi’s face glowed faintly in the firelight. His eyes shone.

Ye Fusheng watched like seeing a dying candle rekindled by the east wind, blazing bright one final time.

He’d heard that Xie Wuyi was born Xie Min. Min, like jade smooth, noble, strong. But walking the martial path, he’d adopted the name Wuyi “Without Clothes,” drawn from an ancient military song about shared hardship and sacrifice.

He was the jade. The blade was the stone. Jade does not shatter; stone does not yield.

But life is neither jade nor stone. No man can live forever.

With his son in his arms, Xie Wuyi stepped out of darkness into the light again, as if returning from another life.

---

“Unsealing the pins (拔针破封)”: Likely refers to unlocking a deadly martial seal or forbidden technique suggesting risk of life or unleashing something dangerous.