Chapter Sixty-Nine: Dusk Falls Over the Western Hills, Desolate and Dreary

Liang Yu, who had been following closely behind, also dismounted at this moment. He, too, had been awestruck by Little Fish Lady’s magnificent sword dance just now.

Once the shock faded, Liang Yu recalled his purpose for coming and immediately drew his broadsword, shouting at the group of men from Riverside Village who had yet to fully disperse, “You lot must have nerves of steel! If any of you dare come and make trouble in Mire Village again, I, Liang Er Gou, will skin every last one of you from Riverside Village!”

Liang Yu’s fury was not without cause. For the men of Riverside Village to come and provoke trouble was to show him, Liang Yu, no respect.

Usually, if there were disputes between villages, it was the local toughs who came forward to mediate. If things truly escalated beyond reconciliation, even then it would be the toughs arranging a brawl among themselves, never involving the rest of the villagers.

Such was the code, and in his three years as a village tough, Liang Yu had always abided by it.

The more chaotic a place, the more unwritten rules there were beneath the surface, and people clung to them—without rules, one couldn’t survive a single day.

If anyone broke those rules, Liang Yu believed, they deserved to die.

The man with the iron grip, presumably the head tough of Riverside Village, had now lost his tongue and fingers—a fitting punishment in Liang Yu’s eyes—so he refrained from further violence.

After Liang Yu finished playing the “red face,” Zhong Ming stepped forward, smiling warmly. “I am Zhong Ming from Mire Village, perhaps you have heard of me. The Assistant Commandant of the city’s Fruit Division is my uncle. In these borderlands, my word still carries some weight.

“As for today’s incident, I can let it pass. I understand these are hard times for all of us—our six villages have been reduced to unwanted refugee settlements by the New Tang, and life isn’t easy for anyone.

“But let me warn you: Mire Village is not to be trifled with. It’s a good thing the New Tang authorities don’t meddle here, since in my village, we’ve never lacked men who know how to wield a blade.

“I ask only that you spread the word: do not bring trouble to Mire Village. I was born with a hatred of trouble, but if you force my hand... hmpf!” Zhong Ming’s smile faded, turning instantly cold and menacing.

He seemed to be playing the “white face,” offering kind words, but his warning was sharp, hinting to these reckless refugees that one rash act could bring fatal consequences.

These days, the villages were in utter turmoil, and Zhong Ming had no wish to invite further trouble. Yet this incident provided the perfect opportunity to send a message—to rattle the mountain and warn the tiger—so that others would think twice before provoking Mire Village.

After the red and white faces had both played their parts, the men of Riverside Village hastily voiced their agreement, none daring to show the slightest resistance.

Watching their cowardice, Liang Yu spat in disgust. “Bah! Useless rabble!”

“Let’s go, Hei Zi.”

Zhong Ming waved his hand, turning to leave with Liang Yu.

Since Little Fish Lady was still with them, Zhong Ming and Liang Yu refrained from mounting their horses, instead leading them as they walked slowly beside her.

Not a word was spoken as the three of them descended the eastern ridge and made their way down the gentle slope, each lost in their own thoughts.

Zhong Ming was filled with questions—he yearned to ask them, yet feared he might cross a line and upset Little Fish Lady.

Ever since she had displayed the move known as “Blossoms Over the Hills,” Zhong Ming could no longer view her as the familiar neighbor’s wife; a new caution had crept into his heart.

Noticing Zhong Ming’s preoccupied look, Little Fish Lady laughed heartily. “Sir, Brother Liang, you must be wondering about my background, aren’t you?”

Zhong Ming smiled, the meaning in his eyes plain.

Liang Yu scratched his head, muttering, “Little Fish Lady, I’ve never seen you be this formidable before. Who would have thought you’re a martial arts master?”

“I’m hardly that. I just know a few family tricks. Sir, Brother Liang—if you’re worried about me because of this, let me make things clear for you.”

Little Fish Lady knew that if she didn’t explain herself to Zhong Ming, today’s events would forever be a thorn in his side.

If Zhong Ming harbored suspicion toward her, it would affect the Lu family’s standing in Mire Village. In time, every villager would look at the Lus with wary eyes.

That was something she never wished to see. She had found true happiness in Mire Village—she loved it here; it was her home.

So, as she began to recount her story, it naturally started with the thirty-sixth ranked legendary hero on the Heavenly Stars List: the enigmatic Swordswoman Hua Wuyu—who was, in fact, Little Fish Lady’s mother, and whose real name was Wen Qiaoqiao.

The Hua family was a clan of swordsmen, famed for their sword techniques through generations in the martial world.

Yet their skills were always of the external school; they were never considered a prestigious lineage, merely a third-rate martial family.

A hundred years ago, the Hua family was nearly wiped out by a vengeful enemy, with many killed or wounded in a single night, and so they gradually faded from the martial world.

Wen Qiaoqiao’s grandfather—Hua Wuyu’s father—was a man obsessed, determined to restore the family’s former glory. He devoted his life to perfecting the sword, vowing to reach the Celestial Constellations List using only external martial arts, never inner strength.

But mediocrity marked his days; by the age of thirty, he had achieved nothing.

Disheartened, he withdrew to the countryside, married, and had a daughter: Hua Wuyu.

When Hua Wuyu showed extraordinary martial talent, hope rekindled. He focused all his efforts on teaching her, hoping she would fulfill the dream he could not.

She did not disappoint. At seventeen, she reached the Earthly Fiends List; at twenty-three, she was at her peak, defeating the master of the Heavenly Skill position on the Celestial List with her move “Hundred Blossoms Wither,” cementing her status as a martial legend.

After that, Hua Wuyu tried to challenge other legendary heroes, aiming for the top spot. Yet, with no inner strength to support her, her progress stalled—her mastery of sword forms could take her no further.

By the time she realized her mistake, it was too late. Years of external training had left her body riddled with old wounds; she fell into decline, each year worse than the last.

At that point, Hua Wuyu decided to retire from the world, quietly leaving behind the fame and burdens of her life as a renowned swordswoman, sealing her blade and turning her back on the martial world.

It was only after she married that she came to understand: the celebrated warriors of the martial world often led bleak lives in their later years.

Knowing only the sword, they lacked any other skills. Stripped of their grand deeds to rob the rich and help the poor, few found peace or comfort in ordinary life.

The mundane tasks of daily living became insurmountable challenges for these former heroes.

A rich man can be a true man; a poor man barely so.

Hua Wuyu married a well-off farmer, living off the land—so different from her days wandering with sword in hand. She struggled to adjust.

When Wen Qiaoqiao was eight, her mother’s internal injuries flared up, leaving her paralyzed. Within a year, she died, despondent.

Who would have thought the twilight years of a legendary heroine could be so tragic?

Hearing this, Zhong Ming could not help but sigh, softly reciting, “Searching and seeking, so cold and lonely, desolate, miserable, grief-laden. In those uncertain days between warm and cold, rest comes hardest. A few cups of weak wine—how could they withstand the evening’s biting wind? Even the wild geese passing by bring sorrow, for they recall old acquaintances.”

Wen Qiaoqiao gave a wry smile. “Sir, I don’t fully understand your poetry, but I can hear the person in those verses is just like my mother—half a lifetime spent with the sword, only to end bedridden, scolding my father’s uselessness.”

Another long sigh from Zhong Ming. “No one has it easy in life. Even those who shine in their youth can’t predict what their old age will bring.”

He had grown up on tales of martial heroes and their passionate adventures, but this was his first time seeing the martial world from such a different angle.

The stories told for public consumption were always romantic and stirring, but few ever heard the chill that crept in when the sun set on the martial world.

“My mother always said I had no talent for martial arts. She started teaching me at three, but all I ever learned were sword forms from the Hundred Blossoms Sword Manual. I never grasped the essence of her ‘Hundred Blossoms Wither’ technique.

“My father was illiterate and didn’t believe girls should study poetry. ‘A woman’s virtue is her blessing,’ he’d say, wanting only to find someone to teach me embroidery and sewing...

“But before he could hire anyone, the war broke out. I could only take my mother’s sword and flee for my life.”

Her words grew more bitter, and though Zhong Ming did not know all the details of her flight, he remembered clearly when Wen Qiaoqiao first arrived in Mire Village.

That was two years ago, when Zhong Ming was just getting used to life in this era, and Wen Qiaoqiao fled to the outskirts of the village.

It was Old Man Sun who found her, starving at the village entrance, and, moved by compassion, brought her home.

But Old Man Sun was already supporting Sun Luolian and could not possibly feed another mouth, so he introduced Wen Qiaoqiao to Lu Dashu.

Lu Dashu was an honest, simple man, upright and always willing to help his neighbors. Old Man Sun trusted his character and felt safe entrusting Wen Qiaoqiao to him.

At the time, Old Man Sun had asked Lu Dashu, “Little Lu, do you want a wife?”

Completely bewildered, Lu Dashu ended up with a good wife. Wen Qiaoqiao may not have been a beauty, but she was hardworking and sturdy, and to a farmer, a wife with strong arms and hips, able to bear children and labor, was the best kind of woman.

For Lu Dashu, it was as if a fairy had fallen from the sky.

Wen Qiaoqiao might appear to be a hidden master of martial arts, but in truth, she was simply a woman who had suffered through endless hardship.

As Zhong Ming pondered her story, he walked with his head down, kicking up clouds of dust along the country path—his thoughts drifting as aimlessly as the dust.

After a long silence, Zhong Ming finally asked, “Sister-in-law Lu, if Uncle Lu hadn’t been beaten, would you have drawn your sword at all?”

“No,” she said simply. “I prefer a hoe. With a hoe, I can dig up food to eat. With this broken sword, all I find is ruin.”

Such a plain and yet profound answer left Zhong Ming speechless.

He needed no further questions to know that the inheritor of the Hundred Blossoms Sword would only ever be a good wife and mother now, and would never bring trouble to Mire Village.

The time of “Hundred Blossoms Wither,” the era of Hua Wuyu, was over. The legendary tales of the martial world were now only that—tales.

There would never again be a Hundred Blossoms Sword or a Hua Wuyu. The world she knew had grown old, weary, and was ready for burial.

The martial world now belonged to the likes of Chu Guan, Yang Yanlang, Liang Yu, and Zhong Ming—a new generation.

The river’s waves rise a hundred feet, each new wave overtaking the last.

Unnoticed, the swordswoman, with her two young companions leading their horses, had walked from the eastern ridge to the crumbling city wall.

Suddenly, Wen Qiaoqiao turned, handing her sword to Zhong Ming with a bright laugh. “Sir, I entrust the Hundred Blossoms Sword to your care. If I have no sword, I can’t possibly bring trouble to Mire Village...

“Little Fish is only seven months old and still so small—I need to look after him. Dashu is a rough man; without me, he’d live like a slob. This family can’t do without me.

“I don’t want to leave Mire Village. Sir, please let me stay.”

Zhong Ming was taken aback, then smiled in understanding.

“Sister-in-law Lu, the sword is yours—it belongs in your hand. Perhaps when Little Fish grows up, he’ll learn some martial arts and earn distinction, bringing honor to the family.”

He pushed the sword back to her, laughing. “In Mire Village, we never fear trouble. If the sky falls, I, Zhong Ming, will hold it up!”

At once Liang Yu shouted, “And I, Liang Er Gou, will hold it up too!”

In that moment, Wen Qiaoqiao’s eyes filled with tears. She bowed deeply to the two young men, her voice trembling with gratitude. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Brother Liang, for your understanding.”

They say Mire Village is the best village on the border, for it has a certain Mr. Zhong—a man in fine robes, skilled in calligraphy, and never afraid to wield a blade in defense of his people.

The border’s best is Mire Village; the best of Mire Village is Mr. Zhong.

No one knows quite when it happened, but Zhong Ming, who never liked to stand out and always tried to keep his head down, now stood at the very front, shouldering all the burdens of Mire Village.

It was in that moment that Zhong Ming realized he had long since become a part of this era, and now had too many things here he could never leave behind.

He helped Wen Qiaoqiao to her feet, then lifted his gaze to the broken city wall, murmuring quietly, “Perhaps it is time I set aside my pen, and learned to wield the blade with both hands.”