Chapter 10: The Heavenly Physician’s Nine Needles Mend the Ghostly Vein; A Prelude Before Huaguang Temple (Part 5)
by GideonThe sudden crisis struck. The Ghost-Faced Blood Butcher’s appearance instantly set the alarms blaring throughout Fengyue City.
Meng Duwei was held protectively in his arms as they flew toward the city gates without a single glance back. Feng Qiya’s gaze sharpened. He drew his sword and gave chase. “Shuze! Where is your brother? What have you done to him?”
“Uncle Feng!” Wen Jin cried out, about to launch himself forward with his qīnggōng lightness skill. But a thought stopped him in his tracks. He had come to Qianxi on an undercover mission. If he were to clash openly with Lan Yulang now, it would jeopardize the entire plan.
Yet his heart ached for his friend Feng Shulou’s safety. The Devil had single-handedly annihilated the entire Returning Cloud Villa; no matter how high Feng Qiya’s martial arts were, he could never face such a foe alone. Moreover, Feng Qiya had already expended too much cultivation power saving Lan Xiangru. If anything were to go wrong now, Fengyue City would surely suffer the same fate as Returning Cloud Villa.
At this thought, Wen Jin could restrain himself no longer. He tore a strip of cloth from a nearby guard’s uniform, wrapped it around his face, and vanished into the wind.
Fengyue City was vast and grand, yet the Ghost-Faced Blood Butcher moved through it with effortless ease. Meng Duwei couldn’t help but wonder: The Cult Leader has never issued any orders against Fengyue City. How is he so familiar with its layout?
Feng Qiya’s Qinggong was superb, and he was on the verge of catching up to the two fugitives. Not wishing to hold him back, Meng Duwei said, “Cult Leader, I am unharmed. Please, put me down and go. My unauthorized departure from the cult is already a grave offense; I dare not trouble your Majesty further. Once I have settled this private feud, I will return to the cult to accept my punishment.”
The man beside him remained silent, merely tightening his hold and flying toward the city gates.
Feng Qiya could have easily intercepted them, but he had not yet properly regulated his internal breath after rescuing the hostage. The few exchanges he had just had with Meng Duwei had further drained his cultivation power. Now, he felt his internal breath churning violently within his dantian, threatening to flow backward.
A single moment of distraction caused his footing to falter. The roof tiles beneath his feet shattered with a clatter, nearly sending him sprawling.
In that critical moment, Wen Jin arrived and steadied him. “Uncle Feng, please take a moment to recover. I will go after them.”
Wen Jin’s voice was slightly muffled by the cloth covering his face. Feng Qiya worried, “That Devil’s martial arts are formidable. How could you possibly be a match for him?”
“If I can’t win, I’ll run. I won’t throw my life away in vain, so please rest assured.” Before the words had even faded, he was gone, leaving only the sound of robes fluttering in the wind.
A metallic sweetness surged in Meng Duwei’s throat from time to time, but he forced himself to swallow it back. The man beside him remained silent, carrying him as they fled Fengyue City.
Just then, a streak of Sword Qi struck from behind. The Ghost-Faced Blood Butcher wrapped an arm around Meng Duwei’s waist and flashed aside, evading the lethal attack.
“Devil, don’t you dare flee!” Wen Jin pursued them, his sword strikes fierce and relentless.
The Ghost-Faced Blood Butcher landed in a clearing, still holding the injured man. He spun around and tore off his mask.
The sword’s tip was a mere inch from his throat. After seeing his face, Wen Jin twisted his wrist and jerked the blade back, yet it still sliced through a lock of the man’s long hair. “Big Brother Feng?”
Meng Duwei stared at the man beside him in astonishment, then, after a moment, shoved him away with all his might.
Wen Jin asked in confusion, “Big Brother Feng, what is the meaning of all this?”
Feng Shulou did not answer him. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on Meng Duwei. “You promised me on Xingluo Mountain that you would let go of your hatred and return to Fengyue City with me. Was all of this just a ruse to trick me into revealing how to use the Origin-Drawing Needle, so you could get close to my father?”
“Put down my hatred?” Meng Duwei sneered. “If I could simply let go of my hatred and resentment, then what was the point of the suffering I endured for thirteen years? What was the point of the castration that left me unable to have children? Can your flippant word ‘let go’ restore my life?”
Wen Jin silently sheathed his sword.
“Why are you silent now?” Meng Duwei sneered. “When Feng Qiya saw me at Fengqixia today, he showed no guilt or remorse. The first words he spoke were not to ask how I had fared these thirteen years, but to express concern for your life.”
“Every move he made, every sword strike, every ounce of his cultivation power was aimed at killing me! How am I supposed to let go of my hatred?”
The night was as black as ink. The other two men in the wilderness remained silent, the silence heavy and profound.
After a long moment, Meng Duwei said coldly, “Feng Shulou, the brotherhood between us has long since ceased to exist. From this day forward, you no longer need to save me. This time, because my skills were insufficient, I failed to exact my revenge. The next time we meet, it will be either your death or my survival.”
Feng Shulou grabbed his hand. “A-Ze!”
Meng Duwei tried to pull away, but his hand was held tight. “Let me go!” he snapped impatiently.
Feng Shulou remained unmoved.
Meng Duwei’s eyes flashed. “If you don’t let go, I will kill you!”
“I already owe you my life,” Feng Shulou said, closing his eyes with the air of a man ready to face death without regret. “If you wish to kill me, I will not resent it.”
Wen Jin rushed between the two men, his voice urgent. “What are you doing?”
Feng Shulou’s voice was hoarse. “Years ago, when the Demonic Cult attacked Fengyue City, the two sides fought a bitter battle for two days, leaving countless dead and wounded. Later, Mo Changling, the Azure Dragon Sacrificer, intended to kidnap me as a hostage. But by then, my father had already sent me to Canglan Pavilion, so I wasn’t in the city. Mo Changling mistook A-Ze for me and took him back to the Heaven-Seizing Cult.”
“Those sufferings… should have been mine to endure.”
Wen Jin’s head spun. While he and Feng Shulou had been practicing Internal Martial Arts without a care in the world at Canglan Pavilion, the Second Young Master of the Feng Family had already fallen into the hands of the Demonic Cult.
Meng Duwei sneered. “My life has already been ruined. No matter how much guilt you feel, it will not change anything—Feng Shulou, you’d best look after yourself.”
As soon as the words left his lips, Meng Duwei struck both Wen Jin and Feng Shulou on their shoulders with a palm strike, then swiftly vanished before they could react.
Shortly after, Deputy City Lord Ji Yuanfeng arrived with several disciples to assist Wen Jin. Wen Jin immediately kicked the demon mask Feng Shulou had thrown on the ground deep into the thicket, then stripped off the black cloak he was wearing and discarded it.
As Ji Yuanfeng and his men drew closer, their eyes widened in surprise upon seeing Feng Shulou. “Shulou? Why are you here?”
Wen Jin spoke up, interjecting, “I fought the Devil Lan Yulang several times. Just as I was about to lose, Big Brother Feng returned and lent me a hand.”
Ji Yuanfeng looked at him. “Young Hero Wen, are you injured?”
Wen Jin clutched his left shoulder and hissed through his teeth, “Just a minor wound. It’s nothing.”
Feng Shulou remained silent throughout, his expression strangely mournful. Ji Yuanfeng assumed they had both suffered severe injuries and immediately ordered his disciples, “Quickly, take the Young Master and Young Hero Wen back to the city to heal.”
By the time they returned to Fengyue City, it was nearly midnight. Wen Jin did not get involved in the Feng Family’s internal affairs and went straight to the West Courtyard, where he hastily washed up.
The room was brightly lit. Lan Xiangru, dressed in white robes, sat at the eight-immortal table, the picture of refined elegance.
Wen Jin approached him, poking and prodding his body. “Are you really all better?”
Lan Xiangru replied, “Though my movements are no longer restricted, I still cannot exert much strength.”
“City Lord Ji said that to fully recover, we’ll need the Prajna Zen Heart from Huaguang Temple and the Hidden Gold and Jade Fluff Ointment from the Spring Flowers and Autumn Moon Pavilion. The sooner, the better. We’ll set out for Huaguang Temple in Tang Province tomorrow,” Wen Jin said.
Lan Xiangru did not respond. His gaze fell upon Wen Jin’s left shoulder, where a patch of dried blood had soaked through the green robes. “You’re injured?”
Wen Jin shook his head. “Don’t worry, this isn’t my blood.”
“You fought the Cult Leader of the Heaven-Seizing Cult?” Lan Xiangru propped his chin on one hand, watching him with curiosity.
“That devil was just Big Brother Feng in disguise. He only did it to rescue Meng Duwei.” Wen Jin poured a cup of warm water and gulped it down.
Hearing him call the man a “devil” over and over, Lan Xiangru couldn’t help but curve his lips into a faint smile.
Wen Jin frowned. “What are you laughing at?”
Lan Xiangru immediately regained his composure. “It’s nothing.”
Wen Jin gave a soft huff, rose, and walked toward his own bedchamber. “Time to sleep!”
The next day at noon, Lan Xiangru and Wen Jin bid farewell to everyone in Fengyue City and set out for Tang Province.
Though Lan Xiangru’s meridians had been reconnected, his movements were still not as agile as before. Feng Shulou had specially prepared a carriage for the two of them and handed Wen Jin a letter. “Though Huaguang Temple is one of the five great families, it has been secluded for many years, rarely interfering in the affairs of the mortal world. This letter was written by my father; it explains in detail the reason for your visit. Deliver it to Abbot Huiming, and he will surely help Yantang Zhengli.”
Wen Jin took the letter and cupped his fist in a salute. “Thank you, Uncle Feng.”
Lan Xiangru, standing before the carriage, also cupped his fist to Feng Shulou in a gesture of thanks.
Feng Shulou offered a faint smile, his voice laced with lingering concern. “Young Master Lan’s internal injuries have not yet fully healed; he must continue his medication daily. I have prepared five doses of herbs and placed them in the carriage with your luggage. Find a suitable place to brew them each day for him to take.”
Wen Jin nodded. “Understood.”
“Xiao Jin—” Feng Shulou suddenly pulled Wen Jin aside, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You mentioned earlier that you have a grave mission. Can you tell me what it is?”
Wen Jin, trusting him completely, no longer held back. He hooked an arm around Feng Shulou’s neck and whispered into his ear, “I’m going undercover in the Heaven-Seizing Cult.”
Feng Shulou’s face paled. “What?!”
Lan Xiangru glanced over, and Wen Jin quickly gestured for him to stay silent.
Feng Shulou’s worry deepened. “This is too dangerous. You absolutely cannot go!”
“Don’t worry, Big Brother Feng. I know what I’m doing.” Wen Jin’s expression turned grave. “This concerns the entire Martial Arts Alliance. You must keep this a secret—not even Uncle Feng can know.”
Feng Shulou tried to argue further, but Wen Jin was already hurrying back to the carriage. He waved goodbye, calling out, “Farewell, Big Brother Feng!”
His face clouded with anguish, Feng Shulou chased after them for a few steps. “The jianghu is in turmoil! If you encounter members of the Demonic Cult, avoid them if you can. Think carefully before you act, and never force a confrontation!”
Wen Jin leaped onto the carriage’s driver’s seat, pulling Lan Xiangru up with him. He beamed. “We know, we know! Take care, Big Brother Feng!”
Feng Shulou’s brow remained furrowed, his worry for them still evident.
With a lingering glance, Wen Jin turned the horse and drove away.
The two traveled north, leaving Jiangling Prefecture behind. Within five days, they crossed into Tang Province.
That evening, heavy clouds blanketed the sky, threatening a downpour. After a brief discussion, Wen Jin and Lan Xiangru decided to find the nearest village to shelter in for the night.
About an hour later, they arrived at a village called Fragrant Flower Ridge. Dusk had fallen, and the entire village was ablaze with lights, bustling with activity.
As they crossed the stone bridge at the village entrance, a weather-beaten archway came into view. It was adorned with large red lanterns bearing the character for “Double Happiness,” and the osmanthus trees lining the road were also draped in red silk and lanterns.
“Who celebrates a wedding so ostentatiously?” Wen Jin wondered. “Even the village entrance is decorated with red lanterns.”
Lan Xiangru was equally puzzled. “Perhaps it is a local custom.”
Intrigued, Wen Jin drove the carriage into the village and secured lodging with a middle-aged couple.
The couple, whose family name was Li, were simple and hospitable. However, their home was modest, and they could only spare one decent bedroom to offer their guests. Wen Jin quickly said, “Uncle Li, Aunt Li, please don’t trouble yourselves. One room is enough for us.”
“How can we allow that!” Uncle Li protested immediately. “Wife—go prepare Lin’er’s room.”
Lan Xiangru stopped him. “We are only staying for one night. There is no need for such formality.”
Seeing their insistence, Uncle Li said no more. He instructed Aunt Li to cook dinner and went to the courtyard to chop pig fodder.
Wen Jin took out a dose of medicinal herbs and went to the kitchen to borrow a clay pot from Aunt Li to decoct them. Noticing another pot of medicine simmering on a second stove, he asked with concern, “Aunt Li, is someone in your family ill?”
Aunt Li chuckled. “That’s just breeding medicine for our sow.”
Wen Jin was shocked and quickly moved his own pot further away. After a moment, he asked, “Why are there celebratory lanterns hanging on the village’s entrance arch?”
Aunt Li poured a half-plate of sliced cured meat into the wok and answered as she stir-fried it. “Old Man Niu’s daughter is getting married. Starting tomorrow, they’ll be hosting a three-day open-house banquet.”
“They have that much money?”
“What money? They just happened to raise a beautiful daughter who was lucky enough to be chosen by the Mountain God. She’s marrying into his household to live in luxury.”
“The Mountain God?” Wen Jin frowned.
“This is a custom in Tang Province,” Aunt Li scoffed. “Every year, the Mountain God chooses a beautiful woman from across the province to be his bride, rewarding her family with ten thousand strings of coins. For years, the people of Tang Province have taken pride in bearing daughters, all hoping their own child might become the Mountain God’s bride and live a life of luxury and ease.”
Wen Jin harbored doubts about the Mountain God, yet he said no more, silently adding a few pieces of firewood to the stove.
Soon, dinner was ready. Wen Jin and Lan Xiangru joined Uncle Li and his wife at the table. Lan Xiangru, ever the fastidious one, refused the cured meat and the mushroom soup, eating only a few bites of stir-fried vegetables mixed with his rice.
Aunt Li asked anxiously, “Is the food not to your liking, Young Master?”
Wen Jin swallowed his mouthful of rice and explained, “My elder brother is a Buddhist. He eats a vegetarian diet.”
Lan Xiangru did not contradict him, allowing Wen Jin to make excuses on his behalf.
Aunt Li smiled. “Ah, I see.”
After the meal, Wen Jin brought Lan Xiangru a bowl of medicine, then went to help Aunt Li clear the table. It was only at the first hour of the Pig—around nine o’clock at night—that they returned to their room to rest.
Wen Jin lay flat on his back on the inner side of the bed, his hands tucked under his head. He recounted the tale of the Mountain God’s bride to Lan Xiangru and then asked, “Do you believe there are gods and immortals in this world?”
Lan Xiangru’s voice was devoid of emotion. “If the gods existed, why did my parents have to die such a cruel death?”
Wen Jin’s breath hitched. He turned his head to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong. There’s no need to apologize.” Lan Xiangru closed his eyes, his tone no longer as cold as before. “Go to sleep. We have a long journey tomorrow.”
Wen Jin pursed his lips, inwardly annoyed with himself for asking such a question.
They lay there for a long time before sleep finally claimed them.
At midnight, when all was silent, Wen Jin was sound asleep. Suddenly, he heard a rustling sound outside the window. His eyes snapped open, and he listened intently.
The noise seemed to be coming from the west side of the courtyard.
“It’s been so long, why is there still no reaction? Could we have bought fake medicine?”
“Impossible. Boss Zhu isn’t doing business with us for the first time!”
It was the voices of Uncle Li and Aunt Li.
Soon, Uncle Li spoke again, “Then tell me, why isn’t this sow in heat yet? Could you have given her the wrong medicine?”
Aunt Li retorted, “Bullshit! I only brewed one pot of breeding medicine, how could I have…”
Her voice trailed off as she seemed to remember something, and she froze.
Wen Jin’s heart tightened. He instinctively looked at the empty bowl on the table…
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