Chapter Seventy-Four: The Patriarch of Five Dragons Lake, Opening Mountains and Rivers, Founding a Sect

Meng Chong did not rush to answer; he simply nodded, lifted the zisha teapot from the table, and took a sip.

The old physician glanced at Zhong Ming, whose face was full of anticipation, then exchanged a knowing, secretive smile with Old Daoist Zhang, and said, “Very well. Since we are all somewhat connected by fate, born from the same root, it is only right that we recall the past together. These are things everyone here ought to know.”

“I would be honored to hear the tale,” Zhang Daozhen replied, bowing with a smile that grew even warmer.

So, beneath the flickering lamplight, the old physician began to recount a distant and hidden story.

To speak of the origin of Xu Qiandao, one must first mention a matter little known, yet fundamental to the very birth of the martial world—a figure known as the Ancestor of Five Dragon Lake.

The most famed mountain range in New Tang is the Wandering Dragon Range, which runs through the heart of New Tang from south to north, beginning at the banks of the Yangtze in the south, stretching all the way to the northern barbarian plateau.

The Wandering Dragon Range is not a straight chain of mountains. At its very heart, it curls into a spiral, within which lies a vast lake—this is the Five Dragon Lake, the subject of tonight’s tale.

Long ago, before the previous dynasty, there was no concept of the martial world, nor were there stories of gallant heroes seeking vengeance and justice. In those days, people relied solely on brute force and the sword, fighting for dominance with whatever means they could muster.

Until one day, at the lake by Wandering Dragon Mountain, five spirited young men emerged, wielding swords and sabers, their energy splitting mountains, their blades pointing to the heavens and summoning thunder to shatter the stones beneath their feet. Their exploits set off a storm of blood and fire, heralding the age of wandering heroes.

Those five spirited youths became the five famed ancestors of Five Dragon Lake, their names echoing across the martial world.

Not only did the five ancestors possess peerless martial skills, but they were also accompanied by divine weapons. To speak of them, one must also speak of the weapons they wielded.

Foremost among them was the ancestor of the Danding Sect, the Daoist patriarch Zhang Daoling.

The “Seeking Dao Sword to Question Heaven” was Zhang Daoling’s divine weapon; it is said that with one stroke he questioned the heavens, bringing thunder down on a clear day to split the great stone at his feet, carving the character “Dao” into it. Around this very stone, Zhang Daoling established the Danding Sect.

Mount Longmen’s Danding Sect, by lineage, is the oldest of all martial sects, the very first to be founded, and is rightfully considered the progenitor of all martial orders.

The second of the ancestor-founders was Lin Jianfeng, patriarch of the Nanhua Sect.

Jianshi Sword, the “Soaring Rainbow,” was Lin Jianfeng’s divine weapon. Bold and open-hearted, Lin Jianfeng traveled the world for thirty years, said to have journeyed across Xuanbei and the northern provinces, mastering the sword as he went. He rode the Soaring Rainbow Sword, breaking waves up the lower Yangtze, until he arrived at Mount Nanhua.

Seeing the beauty and spiritual energy of Mount Nanhua, Lin Jianfeng established the Nanhua Sect. To this day, Nanhua remains among the most respected sword sects. Had it not been for the rivalry between Sword Saint Su Tingyou and the Elder of Nanhua, which led to the disappearance of the Soaring Rainbow, Nanhua would surely still reign supreme among sword sects.

The third ancestor to found a sect was Meng Tian, founder of the Order of Shi.

Few knew the name of the divine weapon Meng Tian wielded; the old physician casually mentioned it was called “Ephemeral Blossom.” After founding Shi and passing it down through a thousand years, there was little more the old physician felt necessary to add, as Zhong Ming already knew these matters.

The remaining two ancestors did not found sects, and after a millennium, their names are seldom recalled.

One was the Wandering Swordsman Jiang Liu; the other, the Silent Blade Xu Fu.

Jiang Liu roamed the martial world all his life, mysterious and elusive. The Wandering Sword was passed through more than ten generations, each time leaving only faint traces in the annals of the martial world before vanishing once more.

The inheritor of the Silent Blade Xu Fu was Xu Qiandao himself. The Xu family’s ancestor could stand shoulder to shoulder with the three great patriarchs of the martial world, so Xu Qiandao’s swordsmanship was naturally extraordinary.

At this point, Zhong Ming was filled with awe, never expecting that, as a mere village boy from Yuni, he had such a family history.

Zhang Daozhen nodded slightly. “I once read a record on this in the library years ago. Xu Fu’s descendants returned to Five Dragon Lake, not wishing to be entangled in the endless feuds of the martial world, and became hunters in the mountains.”

“Fate is not easily denied,” Meng Chong sighed. “Some thirty years ago, Emperor Jing of Chen, Ji Chu, scoured the land for divine weapons and secret manuals, throwing the martial world into chaos. Even the Xu family, hidden away at Five Dragon Lake, was forced from their seclusion, fleeing for their lives.

“If I’m not mistaken, the Xu family’s descendants sought refuge with your Order of Shi, which is why Xu Qiandao served you for many years, walking the martial world.

“In those days, Chen maintained a grand bureau of military secrets in Luoyan City, collecting martial manuals and divine weapons from all around.

“One night, the bureau was wiped out by masked men—none were left alive. The only clue left was that the attacker wielded a blade.”

Meng Chong did not answer Zhang Daozhen’s unspoken question; instead, the old physician took another sip of tea and began fanning himself again.

After a long pause, Meng Chong finally spoke quietly. “Elder Zhang, one may speak carelessly about food, but not about matters such as these.”

Hearing these secret histories, Zhong Ming’s heart was full of emotion.

Though the two old men spoke in riddles, Zhong Ming could piece together most of the truth.

His father, Xu Qiandao, had evidently once worked for Shi, carrying out many dangerous missions—enough to earn a life-saving copper coin.

As for the Five Ancestors of Five Dragon Lake, Zhong Ming could also guess that the lake was named in their honor, for their exploits had shaken the world, and only such a place could be called “Five Dragon.”

Yet questions remained: why did all the founders of the martial world come from Five Dragon Lake? Why did the Xu clan return there to hide away?

These were mysteries buried deep beneath the dust of history—perhaps even Meng Chong did not know, else he would have mentioned them.

Still, Zhong Ming found himself deeply intrigued. His family, it seemed, was ever more fascinating, and the hidden secrets of history were beginning to reveal themselves to him bit by bit.

If opportunity arose in the future, Zhong Ming was determined to uncover the stories behind those ancient secrets.

In the darkness, only the tiny oil lamp flickered. The three men each lost themselves in thought, and silence prevailed.

After a long while, Zhong Ming recalled an important question. He asked carefully, “Master Meng, may I ask—does the Order of Shi know where my father is now?”

Meng Chong, rocking in his chair, stopped. He fanned himself twice, seeming to hesitate.

Zhang Daozhen urged, “Xu Qiandao risked his life for your order for so many years. Now that his son wishes to know his father’s whereabouts, will you not tell him?”

“Northwestern snow mountains, within the borders of the Later Chen.”

Zhong Ming was instantly overjoyed—did this mean his formidable father was still alive?

He bowed again. “Master Meng, please tell me exactly where my father is. When my uncle Yang returns, I’ll discuss with him seeking out my father.”

“Young man, you’ve learned too much today, and it may not be good for you. Your father is a man of great fortune; he’ll find his own path. You’d do better to live quietly here on the border—your father would not want you caught in the bloodshed of the martial world.”

With that, Meng Chong closed his eyes and rested, taking no further notice of the other two.

Clearly, he had no wish to continue. He had already shared too many secrets for one night, in grave violation of the order’s rules.

Once more, the room lapsed into silence.

The three men waited quietly for Meng Teng’s return. When finally there was movement in the secret passage, Meng Chong opened his eyes.

Meng Teng darted out swiftly, hurried to Zhong Ming, and handed him a note.

“I’ve found out what you wanted—have a look.”

Pushing aside his tangled thoughts, Zhong Ming quickly opened the note, reading by the lamp’s glow.

On it was written: Back courtyard, bathing and changing, drinking tea in the front hall, central gate.

The contents were disjointed. Frowning, Zhong Ming raised the note, about to ask, but Meng Teng laughed.

“You can’t make sense of it, can you? I’ll explain: the boy named Fei was brought back to Baiyu Capital’s residence. First, he was taken to the back courtyard, then bathed and changed, had tea in the front hall, and when our informant saw him last, he was leaving by the central gate.”

“Leaving by the central gate? So Dachih is about to leave the Baiyu Capital’s residence?”

This surprised Zhong Ming greatly—how could Fei Dacheng, taken by Yutu, emerge unharmed?

What sort of game was Yutu playing?

Meng Teng nodded. “If you hurry to North Street now, you should be able to meet the young man.”

With this, Zhong Ming could restrain himself no longer. He bowed hastily. “Thank you, Master Meng, Physician Meng. I won’t stay any longer—I must find my friend on North Street.”

“No need to rush, sir. The boy is surely unharmed.”

With his warm smile, Meng Teng opened the door. As soon as two boards were removed, Zhong Ming slipped out.

“Old Daoist, let’s go.”

Waving at Zhang Daozhen, who was still sitting quietly, Zhong Ming hurried toward North Street.

Zhang Daozhen also bowed, then turned and left.

Within the Hall of Benevolence, the white-haired, white-browed physician resumed rocking and fanning himself, eyes shut, as if nothing in the world could disturb him.

The young assistant stood behind the counter, propping himself up, lost in thought, his gentle smile enough to warm anyone’s heart.

Outside, the bustling crowd passed, and Zhong Ming glanced back over his shoulder.

He realized then that this pharmacy had never truly belonged to the borderlands—the two men within were far too composed, as if no matter how noisy the world outside, it had nothing to do with them.

From this day on, Zhong Ming knew he could never again see this place with an ordinary heart.

...

Making his way to North Street, Zhong Ming soon noticed the crowd growing denser.

Near Baiyu Capital’s mansion, many people knelt at the gate, seemingly in supplication.

The street before the mansion was packed with those kneeling, easily a thousand or more, as if the common people were petitioning en masse.

Seeing this, Zhong Ming frowned. “What is going on here?”

Listening to the hubbub, Zhang Daozhen replied, “During the incense season on Mount Longmen, it was much the same—faithful coming to offer incense, I should think.”

With no room to move through the crowd, Zhong Ming could only watch the entrance helplessly.

“Ming-ge, over here!”

Under a large tree by the roadside, Toothless called out. Turning, Zhong Ming saw all his friends waiting in the shade.

It was midday, the sun blazing overhead—no wonder the boys had sought the cool beneath the tree.

As Zhong Ming approached, Toothless asked, “How did it go, Ming-ge?”

“Just wait a moment. I’ve had someone ask around—Dachih came to no harm. He’ll be out soon.”

No sooner had he spoken than a wave of disappointment rippled through the kneeling crowd—the mansion’s gatekeeper called out, “Everyone, please disperse for now. Those seeking talismans, return tomorrow.”

Zhong Ming frowned and asked Toothless, “Do you know what they’re doing?”

Scratching his head, Toothless replied, “I think they’re here for peace talismans. Lately, Baiyu Capital’s people have been inscribing talismans—those who come are brought inside, and the chief disciple of the Immortal Official Jingyue personally inscribes a peace charm on their arm.”

“It’s a way to win over the people. These supplicants just want peace,” Zhang Daozhen explained, adding that Mount Longmen did much the same.

After the disciple’s announcement, most of the crowd dispersed, though some remained, either out of devotion or perhaps entranced.

The disciple paid them no further heed, returning to his post.

After a while, the gate stirred. A group of people emerged, all clad in silk-trimmed finery—the attire of Baiyu Capital’s disciples.

At their center were two figures. One was Tian Xingjian, now dressed in the sect’s splendid robe, trimmed with gold thread, not unlike Yutu’s, but embroidered on the back with a complex cityscape and the words “First Pavilion.”

The other, to everyone’s astonishment, was the portly Fei Dacheng.

Fei Dacheng, too, now wore Baiyu Capital’s robes, his unruly hair crowned with jade—a Daoist’s Three-Tiered Crown.

There are many kinds of headgear. Ordinary scholars wear gold or silver, but only Daoists wear jade, which is itself graded. The style of one’s crown marks one’s rank within the sect.

The Three-Tiered Crown is the standard Daoist headpiece, worn by all initiates.

But Fei Dacheng was only a village boy; just an hour ago, he’d worn a wooden hairpin. How had he been granted such a crown so quickly?

Zhong Ming frowned, more puzzled than ever by Yutu’s intentions.

Toothless, however, had no such concerns. Seeing Fei Dacheng, he shouted, “Dachih, over here!”

Already uncomfortable with the disciples’ fawning, Fei Dacheng’s chubby face was slick with sweat. Spotting his friends, he beamed, dodged the crowd, and hurried over.

Tian Xingjian, catching the shout, narrowed his eyes. “Interesting... It’s been some days, and now I see him again today.”

Brushing aside the sycophantic disciples, Tian Xingjian strolled toward the tree as well.

The others wanted to follow, but Yi Chongtian, behind Tian Xingjian, stopped them. “Brothers, it seems Uncle Tian and Uncle Fei have old friends to meet—let’s not crowd them.”

The disciples, understanding, withdrew.

When they had gone, Yi Chongtian grinned slyly, glancing at Tian Xingjian’s carriage, where the young maid Xiaoxiao held the reins.

Approaching, Yi Chongtian bowed. “Miss Xiaoxiao, might I wait here with you for Uncle Tian? I have important matters to discuss with him at the residence later.”

“You’re too kind, Immortal Master. Please, wait in the carriage,” Xiaoxiao replied, a little flustered—Yi was the favorite of her young master these days, ever since he’d all but replaced the former Immortal Master Li Que.

Moreover, Yi treated everyone warmly, even her, like a neighborly elder brother, and Xiaoxiao favored him for it.

Yi Chongtian smiled, sitting beside her. “No need, I’ll keep you company right here.”

The faint, cool scent of the immortal made Xiaoxiao blush, her mind wandering.

By now, Fei Dacheng had reached the tree, his fat cheeks wobbling as he exclaimed, “Ming-ge, finally! That damned immortal official dragged me off just now—scared me half to death!”

Before Zhong Ming or Toothless could respond, Tian Xingjian arrived, smiling slyly. “Brother Fei, such a lively gathering—tell me, who is the ‘damned immortal official’ you just mentioned?”

Caught off guard, Fei Dacheng paled in fright.

Pulling Fei behind him, Zhong Ming stepped forward. “Ah, Young Master Tian. It’s been a few days, and you truly are on the rise—already a disciple of Baiyu Capital, I see.

“As for the ‘damned immortal official’ Dachih mentioned, he was praising you, of course. As the saying goes, ‘When a man ascends to immortality, even his chickens and dogs follow.’ So, you see, ‘damned immortal official’ is just a compliment on your abilities—now that you’ve attained the Dao, all around you benefit, hence the term ‘immortal official among dogs’...”

Hearing Zhong Ming’s glib nonsense, Tian Xingjian sneered. “Well, well—so sharp-tongued as ever, Master Zhong.”

“You flatter me, Young Master Tian,” Zhong Ming replied, bowing and smiling.

Tian Xingjian had not come merely to exchange pleasantries. He and Zhong Ming only crossed paths for a challenge.

Suppressing his anger, Tian Xingjian forced a smile. “Zhong Ming, since I’ve run into you today, there’s something I must ask.”

“Please, ask away—I will answer as best I can.”

Tian Xingjian’s smile faded, his eyes narrowing. “My senior brother Li Que—was it you who killed him?”

At this, Zhong Ming’s face turned cold. Behind him, Zhang Daozhen’s hand trembled as he reached for the jade gourd at his waist.