Chapter Six: At the Return-of-the-Wild-Geese Pavilion

The old man shook his head and said no more.

As the two passed by a teahouse, they suddenly heard voices raised in discussion...

"You likely don't know, but Master Liu's decision to retire and wash his hands of the martial arts world was actually for the sake of the greater good. Had he not done so, a rift within the Hengshan Sect would have been inevitable."

"A rift? Are you suggesting that Master Liu and Master Mo Da, being fellow disciples..."

"Hmph! Outsiders only know that Master Liu is the second-best expert of the Hengshan Sect, but the truth is, his mastery of the 'Returning Wind and Falling Goose Sword' has long since surpassed that of the Sect Leader, Master Mo Da. However, Master Liu had no desire for conflict between brothers. For the sake of the sect and their shared history, he had no choice but to retire and live out his days as a wealthy gentleman."

"Is that really so? No wonder that apart from Master Liu's own disciples, none of the other Hengshan members are present today."

"Master Mo Da and Master Liu are like fire and water. It would be bad enough if they didn't meet, but if they did, they would likely draw swords and fight to the death. Since Master Liu has conceded, Master Mo Da should know when to be satisfied."

Hearing this, Ren Yi looked at the old man with a strange expression and asked, "Are you not angry?"

No sooner had Ren Yi spoken than the old man walked toward the teahouse and slowly approached the "well-informed" man.

The short, stout man noticed the old man staring at him and immediately snapped, "What do you want, old man?"

"You are spouting nonsense!" Having said this, the old man turned and walked away without lingering.

Infuriated by this, the stout man reached out to grab the old man’s back. But just as he moved, a flash of cold light flickered before his eyes.

A slender sword suddenly flew out, landing on the table with a series of sharp "clinking" sounds.

The stout man was terrified and scrambled backward, fearing the blade might strike him, only to see the old man slowly sheathing the long sword back into the base of his huqin. The blade vanished entirely, hidden within the instrument.

The speed and brilliance of that fleeting sword light stunned everyone. The old man looked at the stout man, shook his head again, said nothing, and slowly walked out of the teahouse.

Only then did the crowd notice the white-haired young man outside. Someone exclaimed, "That is the Sage of Wudang, Young Master Ren! He and that old man seem to be... acquaintances."

Inside the teahouse, another cry of shock erupted!

The crowd turned toward the sound and saw that all seven teacups on the stout man's table had been sliced through. A clean cut ran around each cup, half an inch from the rim; someone reached out and easily lifted the porcelain rings.

They had been sliced with such speed and precision that the cups themselves had not shifted an inch.

The stout man stared at the seven severed cups, frozen in place, his face drained of all color.

An elderly traveler in the teahouse said coldly, "When walking the path of the pugilistic world, one should not boast blindly. That man just now was none other than the Hengshan Sect Leader, 'Rain at Night on the Xiaoxiang'—Master Mo Da!"

"What?!"

Master Mo Da had left, not accompanying Ren Yi. Ren Yi, seeing the sign for the Huiyan Pavilion, smiled slightly and stepped inside.

The second floor of the Huiyan Pavilion was strange. While every other tavern and inn in Hengshan City was packed to capacity, this place was exceptionally quiet.

The spacious floor held only two tables, occupied by five people. Ren Yi sat at a table alone. A waiter scurried up, trembling; Ren Yi ordered a pot of wine and a few small dishes, and the waiter rushed back downstairs.

Only then did Ren Yi take his time to observe the people on the floor.

At the center table sat three people. A young nun sat timidly; she was breathtakingly beautiful, with a delicate and refined appearance. Despite her youthful age and the oversized monastic robes, she could not hide her graceful figure.

To her left sat a man in his thirties, dressed in fine silk with a light beard. His eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, but when they turned toward the nun, they softened instantly, as if he were looking at a lover.

The third person was in his late twenties, with sword-like brows and thin lips. His face was slightly pale, giving him the look of a dashing but disheveled youth. His attire marked him as a disciple of the Huashan Sect, though he was covered in blood and bore over a dozen knife wounds.

At the other table sat two Taoists, one old and one young.

Ren Yi recognized them: the bearded one was Taoist Tiansong of the Mount Tai Sect, and the young disciple was his nephew, Chi Baicheng. He had met them two years ago while gathering herbs on Mount Tai.

The two bowed to Ren Yi in greeting. Suddenly, Chi Baicheng drew his sword and stood up, rushing toward the man in fine clothes. "Are you Tian Boguang?"

The man laughed, "I am!"

"Die, you lecherous villain!"

With these words, he lunged at Tian Boguang.

It was a thrust aimed straight for the heart—the most ruthless move in the Mount Tai sword style. Perhaps Chi Baicheng believed this strike would surely claim the villain's life, as he had timed it perfectly, leaving no room for the scoundrel to draw his blade.

But he did not pierce Tian Boguang’s heart, for a flash of blade-light had already erupted.

Tian Boguang swayed, a single saber appearing in his hand. Before the long sword could descend, he had already struck.

With one cut, he returned the saber to its sheath and smiled at the young man standing beside him, "Brother Linghu, please sit. Let us continue drinking!"

Without even standing up, he had struck once. Chi Baicheng’s sword clattered to the floor, and blood began to pour from his chest. Chi Baicheng stared at Tian Boguang, staggered, and collapsed onto the floorboards.

Suddenly, a figure lunged toward Tian Boguang, shouting fiercely as a sword-light flashed out.

But Tian Boguang did not stand. He remained lazily in his chair, drawing his saber to parry.

The clash of blade and sword rang out like metal striking metal, scattering sparks. Ren Yi watched the two, one thrusting and the other parrying, showing no intention of intervening.

Others saw only the spectacle, but Ren Yi was reading the movements.

Since the age of five, he had spent only seven years mastering all thirty-three martial arts of the Wudang Sect to their pinnacle. To call his talent "brilliant" would be an understatement; he was a natural prodigy.

At twelve, he developed a condition of premature aging. The elders of Wudang mourned for their young disciple, lamenting that Heaven was jealous of such talent, refusing to let him exist in this world, hence the affliction.

Blade and sword crossed. In the blink of an eye, Taoist Tiansong had launched twenty-seven strikes, and Tian Boguang had returned twenty-seven cuts. Even now, Tiansong could not force him to stand; he remained seated.

The "Storm Saber Technique" Tian Boguang used was not filled with complex maneuvers; it focused on discarding variation in favor of the fastest possible draw and the swiftest strike.

This shared the same essence as the "Thirteen Heaven-Startling Sword" moves Ren Yi had created himself. After watching for a while, he had effectively learned Tian Boguang's fast blade.

Suddenly, another sword-light ignited. Linghu Chong drew his sword and lunged at Tian Boguang.

Tian Boguang parried Tiansong’s sword, stood up abruptly, and cut into the sword-light.

The saber struck the blade with a loud "clang!"

Linghu Chong was knocked back by the force.

"Brother Linghu, I treat you as a friend, yet you attack me... but I still respect your character. That is why I have risen to face you. You and this old goat-beard may attack me together if you wish."

Linghu Chong glanced at Taoist Tiansong, but Tiansong did not even look at him, stepping aside and saying coldly, "How could my Mount Tai Sect join forces with a lecherous villain?"

The delicate young nun suddenly spoke, "Elder, do not wrong Brother Linghu. He is a good man!"

As Tiansong prepared to sneer, a voice interrupted, "Chi Baicheng is dying."

Tiansong started in alarm, looking at his nephew, who was gasping for air. He immediately cupped his hands, "Young Master Ren, I beg you to save my nephew’s life. Tiansong of Mount Tai will be eternally grateful."

Ren Yi laughed dismissively, "You ask me to save him now? You had plenty of time to play hero with Tian Boguang just a moment ago."

Tiansong’s face reddened, and a pill was already in his palm.

"A Heart-Protecting Pill. It will stabilize his condition for now. Go find a doctor immediately."