Noteworthy Read

Chapter 2: Mystery, Poison, and Martial Legends

 


Tang Lici closed his eyes once more. Chi Yun had already returned with tea, tossing a pot of cold water with tea stems onto the table before Zhong Chunji with a sharp thud.

“Drink,” Chi Yun said, his voice icy.

Zhong Chunji froze. Tang Lici’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Chi Yun’s tea-making skills are unmatched in the world. Miss, perhaps you should try it. Tea soothes the mind… even if this is Chi Yun’s way of apologizing.”

Chi Yun tilted his gaze toward the ceiling, sneering silently. Zhong Chunji hesitated, caught in a moral dilemma, before taking a reluctant sip. She forced a bitter smile. “Mr. Tang is right. I have urgent matters to attend to. I shall take my leave. Apologies for disturbing you.”

The cold water and tea stems left an odd, lingering taste on her tongue. She hurried into another guest room and closed the door behind her.

“You are a good person,” Chi Yun said, voice still sharp.

Tang Lici exhaled softly, eyes closed, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. “After all, the girl drank the delicious tea you brewed… yet she remains angry.”

Chi Yun chuckled darkly. “It’s obviously you who provoked me.”

He paused, voice dropping. “Shi Tinghe killed Jiang Cheng. If Jiang Cheng had come to Xiaoyan Lake to contact the little girl and seek out that immortal, Xue Xianzi… then at least Yanmen would know about the Xinggui Jiuxin Pill.”

“To investigate the Xinggui Jiuxin Pill, it’s better to follow Zhong Chunji than chase her to Yanmen,” Tang Lici mused, frowning. He pressed his hands against the quilt, clenching it tightly. “It’s just… well…”

Chi Yun strode forward, frustration flickering across his face. “Your abdominal pain has lingered for over three years, and even the doctors in the capital are clueless.”

Tang Lici’s lips curved into a faint, wry smile. “Over three years ago, I told you—you are not a fish in the pond, and nothing can cure this illness. I was right then, and I remain right now.”

Chi Yun’s eyes narrowed. “So you mean you’re always right and can never be wrong?”

“Of course,” Tang Lici replied calmly.

Chi Yun’s anger flared. “If I hadn’t seen you bedridden, unable to move, I’d have gone to Yanmen long ago. Why stay here to endure your wrath?”

Tang Lici smiled faintly. “Have you made your decision about Yanmen?”

“I miscalculated. Shi Tinghe… he chopped Jiang Cheng into four pieces,” Chi Yun muttered, his tone cold.

“The Nine Hearts of the Gorilla is intriguing. But if I don’t play along, wouldn’t that be an insult to me, Chi Yun?” Tang Lici said lightly.

“Do as you wish. I have my own matters,” Chi Yun said, suspicion lacing his words.

Tang Lici coughed softly, a small smile on his face. “If I said otherwise, you wouldn’t believe me.”

Chi Yun gritted his teeth, furious again. “I never want to cross paths with you—a white-haired vixen—again in this lifetime! Six months serving you, and I’m still sane. Consider me lucky!”

With that, a white figure leapt out, vanishing into the air.

Tang Lici’s eyes closed once more. Hands resting on the quilt, he exuded calm. The baby beside him had been awakened by Chi Yun’s shouting, yet his bright eyes and tiny hands clutched Tang Lici’s hair with delight, tugging playfully, without a single cry.

Outside the window, sunlight spilled faintly, carrying the breath of spring. The room remained dim, the light tracing the contours of Tang Lici’s silky gray hair.

Zhong Chunji had entered the next room, her anger dissipated. Chi Yun’s words had been sharp, yet not meant to harm. They had met by chance—there was no need to take his hostility to heart. She poured a cup of cold tea, sipped, and felt a knot of unease in her chest. Jiang Cheng had been killed by Shi Tinghe, who in turn had been slain by Chi Yun. The chain of murders was tangled, possibly linked to the poison Shi Tinghe had consumed. Yet the significance, the looming disaster in the martial world, could not fully seize her attention. Vaguely, she wondered… if he had entered the martial world sooner, perhaps events might have unfolded differently.

After a few quiet sips, a soft sigh escaped her. A baby’s laughter drifted from the next room, startling her. Tang Lici—an adopted son of the emperor’s father-in-law—wandering with a child… some mysteries in this world defied reason.

Outside the Xiankelai Inn, two men in straw sandals and plain robes approached a middle-aged woman who seemed slightly dazed. They checked into the last remaining room.

“Cao Wufang,” one murmured, “that Chi Yun has gone. As we suspected, he abandoned the girl named Zhong and counterattacked Yanmen.”

The other chuckled, “Perfect. Then we poison the girl and return with her head as proof.”

Nearby, the middle-aged woman slumped silently, as if asleep.

Zhong Chunji, now calm, unrolled a piece of paper and began drafting a letter to Xue Xianzi. Yet even as her disciple, Xue Xianzi’s temper rivaled Chi Yun’s—there was no certainty the letter would reach him. She noted in the letter the Nine Heart Pills of the Red Ghost and asked her master for assistance. If he consented, she would meet him in Yanmen in a month. Writing it this way, she held onto a small hope, though doubt lingered. She unconsciously always referred to her master as “him.” Perhaps… if Yuedan came out of seclusion, things could change. A waste of hope, maybe, but irresistible all the same.

A gentle knock at her window drew her attention. “Miss, I have a question for you,” a young man’s voice called. Zhong Chunji saw him in brown robes, smiling, and the window slowly opened. Alarmed, she raised her hand, sword poised. A delicate, intoxicating fragrance filled her senses. In a reflex, she snatched up the inkstone and hurled it outside.

With a heavy thud, ink splattered across the floor. Hua Wuyan, hands clasped behind his back, stepped in leisurely, brushing the back of his hand across her delicate cheek. “Such a shame… just a single flower…”

“Then I’ll do it,” another voice said. Hua Wuyan drew a small jade bottle and addressed Cao Wufang, “Hold your breath.” Cao Wufang disappeared, and a faint green mist poured from the bottle. Within moments, plants withered, tables scorched, and Zhong Chunji’s face paled.

A baby’s cry pierced the chaos next door. Hua Wuyan collected the bottle, the mist dissolving into the floor as green water, spreading black decay wherever it touched. His expression shifted, calculating.

Outside, Cao Wufang glimpsed a man emerge from the next room. Disheveled, in simple robes, he moved with a quiet authority, unseen in his actions. A single blow paralyzed Cao Wufang’s body and tongue, rendering him powerless. From the room, Hua Wuyan chuckled, tossing a white bottle. A gray-clad figure caught it, a faint smile on his lips, leaping nimbly over the rooftops.

“I suggested staying here instead of chasing them to Yanmen,” the gray-clad figure murmured, stepping into the room with antidote in hand. He sprinkled powder across the green water, neutralizing it, then lifted Zhong Chunji’s head and administered the cure.

She awoke, eyes meeting a pair of large, dark, round ones. A baby lay beside her, staring intently. Confusion clouded her mind—how could she, poisoned by powerful toxins, still be alive?

“Young lady… the poison has been neutralized. Rest, do not rise yet.”

She turned to see Tang Lici, gray hair tied neatly, youthful yet noble. “Young Master Tang… you saved me?” Her thoughts spun—he was ill, bedridden, yet here he was.

Tang Lici had changed into a lotus-colored Confucian robe, accentuating his serene, picturesque features. A silver bracelet adorned his right wrist, intricate patterns depicting flowers, birds, and women of all seasons. Truly enigmatic.

“You witnessed Shi Tinghe’s death,” Tang Lici said gently. “Fengliudian wanted you silenced. The Nine Hearts of the Gorilla Pill is not something for outsiders.”

“Fengliudian?” Zhong Chunji asked.

He nodded. “They sold the Nine Hearts of the Gorilla Pill. Shi Tinghe, ‘West Wind Swordsman’ Feng Chuanxiang, and ‘Iron Pen’ Wen Ruiqi—all perished at their hands.”

Zhong Chunji’s eyes widened. “Feng Chuanxiang… dead?”

Tang Lici lifted a cup of tea, offering it to her. “His wife, Xiao Emei, was killed by ‘Floating Ghost’ Wanyu. Seeking vengeance, Feng Chuanxiang used forbidden drugs. After killing Wanyu, he was poisoned, passing it to his closest friend, Wen Ruiqi. They both perished.”

Zhong Chunji’s eyes widened in shock. “When… when did this happen?”

Tang Lici held a delicate cup of tea, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. “Half a month ago. Please, have some tea, young lady.”

Zhong Chunji accepted the cup with trembling hands, her heart still racing. She gazed down at the porcelain in her palm—fine, translucent, almost glowing from within, with a subtle painting of a sea of clouds. Elegant. Refined. Rare.

“How… how did you know of Feng Chuanxiang’s death, Mr. Tang?”

Tang Lici straightened in the chair beside the bed, his voice calm yet tinged with solemnity. “The news came from Yanmen.”

“Yanmen?” Zhong Chunji’s brows knit. “‘Xinyan’ Jiangcheng?”

Tang Lici inclined his head slightly. “Shi Tinghe followed Jiangcheng like a mantis stalking a cicada, while the oriole waited behind. Chi Yun followed Shi Tinghe and overheard their conversation at Xiaoyan Lake. The poison Feng Chuanxiang ingested… it was given to him by Shi Tinghe. Unaware that it was lethal, Feng Chuanxiang succumbed only after Wan Yu’s death. Shi Tinghe demanded money to buy the Nine Heart Pills of the Gorilla Ghost, but Feng Chuanxiang refused outright. After his escape, he was taken in by Wen Ruiqi. Tragically, the poison spread to Wen Ruiqi. Realizing the toxin was incurable, both severed their own meridians and died. It was… a heroic act.”

Zhong Chunji whispered, “Feng Chuanxiang… he was a gentleman.”

Tang Lici’s gaze softened, as if recalling a memory. “Jiangcheng and Feng Chuanxiang were close. He pursued the truth of Feng Chuanxiang’s death relentlessly, tracing it to Shi Tinghe. Perhaps he hoped to convey it to his revered teacher Xue through you, Xianzi… or to find Shui Duopo, the ‘Mingyue Golden Doctor,’ to save you from the poison. But… before you could even meet me, Shi Tinghe’s sword had already struck. Chi Yun, caught off guard by Shi Tinghe’s murderous intent, and enraged by his failure to protect him, has fled to Yanmen.”

Zhong Chunji lowered her gaze, silent for a long moment. Then, quietly: “But Chi Yun already knew about the Xinggui Nine Heart Pill before that.”

Tang Lici’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Yes. I told him.”

Zhong Chunji shot up in sudden realization. “You?”

Before an answer could be spoken, a tiny, eager pair of hands grabbed her sleeve. She jerked upright, startled, and the baby squealed with laughter, clutching her sleeve and wriggling in delight.

“Fengfeng,” Tang Lici said softly.

The child froze mid-giggle, shyly retreating under the quilt, a pout of mock grievance on its small face. Zhong Chunji couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity.

“Is this your son? He’s… adorable,” she said.

Tang Lici shook his head slightly. “A friend’s child. Quite well-behaved.” He paused, voice dropping to a somber note. “Years ago, there were whispers about the Chimpanzee Nine Heart Pill incident, but its full story… is not for outsiders.”

Zhong Chunji’s brow furrowed, curiosity piqued, her gaze locking onto Tang Lici. He was striking, with a faint scar slicing through his left eyebrow into his hair—proof of a grievous injury.

“Young Master Tang,” she asked carefully, “as a relative of the emperor, why would you leave the capital and wander into the underworld? Aren’t you concerned that your family would miss you?”

Tang Lici’s reply was calm, almost cryptic. “Some matters… are best left unrevealed to outsiders.”

Zhong Chunji lowered her head, sipping her tea, embarrassed at how strangely aloof he was. He called her an outsider, yet there was a sharpness in his manner that even Xue Xianzi’s highest disciples rarely faced.

“Miss,” Tang Lici said softly, “your poisonous wound has yet to heal. I’ve covered the rent for eight days. Rest here, if you wish.” He lifted Fengfeng gently from the bed. “I have urgent matters elsewhere, so I will take my leave.”

Zhong Chunji’s brow knit. “But… the proprietress outside—”

Tang Lici smiled faintly. “She’s been put to sleep by a mild poison. A day’s rest is all she needs. Miss, should you see Xue Xianzi, tell him Tang Lici sends his regards to an old friend.”

Zhong Chunji’s eyes widened. “You know my master?” If he was Xue Xianzi’s old friend, wouldn’t that make him… her uncle? She struggled to rise, but Tang Lici merely smiled and left without another word.


Outside, Jiangnan bloomed in lush abundance. Orioles and swallows darted amid the trees, sunlight spilling across a grand courtyard.

A young man in blue stood before the vermilion gate, brows drawn like swords, eyes scanning the sky in restless worry.

“Young hero Gu,” an elderly man with a black beard sighed, stepping from the doorway. “Chi Yun probably won’t appear again today. You needn’t remain on guard. You’ve done enough these past days.”

The youth shook his head. “This man’s skills are extraordinary, and he is elusive. I do not know his intentions in Yanmen. I cannot rest easy.”

Suddenly, the rhythmic sound of horse hooves broke the tense air. He turned to see a white horse, dappled like plum blossoms, racing toward him. Upon it rode Zhong Chunji, in flowing light purple robes. Her sleeves fluttered with the wind, carrying elegance without arrogance.

She slowed her mount, Meihuaer neighing sharply, and leapt gracefully to the ground, landing like a plum blossom in the breeze. “Brother Gu, how are you?” she said, smiling.

The young man in blue returned the smile and bowed slightly. “Sister Zhong, I am well. Xitan treats guests kindly.” He gestured toward the black-bearded elder. “This is Jiang Feiyu, leader of Yanmen and father of Jiang Cheng, the ‘Xinyan.’”

Shock darkened Zhong Chunji’s expression. “Uncle Jiang…”

Jiang Feiyu stroked his beard, solemn. “You come from a respected family, radiating distinction. Speaking of my son… it has been two months since we last met. Do you know of his whereabouts?”

Her teeth clenched. “Brother Jiang… he is already in Xiaoyan Lake… he died at Shi Tinghe’s hands.”

Horror stole the elder’s voice. “Could what Chi Yun said… be true?”

The youth in blue interjected, uneasy. “Chi Yun has not only arrived at Yanmen, he infiltrated the Yanggao Pavilion, rifled through bedrooms, seized personal letters, and insists Shi Tinghe is responsible for Jiang Cheng’s death. Someone within Yanmen must have betrayed him. Can this possibly be true?”

“Shi Tinghe is a renowned hero,” the young man said doubtfully. “How can we trust a gangster’s claims?”

Zhong Chunji’s voice was soft, tinged with sadness. “Although he is unruly, I believe him. I saw Brother Jiang’s body, but Shi Tinghe… his body was covered with red spots. Poison. Chi Yun says Shi Tinghe took a poison that heightened his martial skills, defeating Yu Qifeng. But the toxin backfired… and Chi Yun’s blade struck when he could no longer defend himself.”

Jiang Feiyu’s face paled. “Shi Tinghe was poisoned? Did he do it himself, or was it Chi Yun?”

The youth in blue shook his head. “Chi Yun is no poison master. If he could wield such a skill, he would have used it against me yesterday, but he did not wish to fight and withdrew.”

Zhong Chunji looked down at the hem of her robes. “Chi Yun may be strange, but he saved me… even though he could have killed me without a trace, he chose otherwise.” She smiled to herself, thinking of Tang Lici and his quiet involvement. Some things were better left unsaid.

“He saved you?” the youth asked, astonished.

She suppressed a laugh, the corners of her mouth twitching. “He…”

“When did I ever save you?” a cold voice interrupted from above. “Don’t credit yourself with favors from some white-haired fox!”

Zhong Chunji flushed crimson, caught in the rare indignity of being exposed. She stamped her foot in frustration.

Above the vermilion gate, a man in white reclined with legs crossed, eyes glinting disdain. “If I had wished to kill all of Yanmen, it would have been effortless. Shi Tinghe’s death? I did not touch it. You have my attention merely because of your ignorance.”

“Is Jiang Cheng really dead?” Jiang Feiyu’s voice was hoarse with grief.

Chi Yun’s reply was blunt, cold: “He is deader than dead. No wish to lie.”

The youth in blue supported the elder, conflicted and hesitant. Chi Yun’s eyes swept over them, disdainful. “Bastards from the Central Plains. Doubt me all you like—let me introduce clarity.”

“Who?” Several figures emerged from Yanmen, tense but wary.

The leader, clad in green and sword in hand, frowned. “If you are a friend, descend and be polite.”

Chi Yun laughed coldly. “I won’t. What do you think?”

The man’s grip tightened on his sword, fury radiating. “Do you think Yanmen is yours to trample at will?”

“Isn’t it?” Chi Yun’s voice was laced with mockery, sharp as a whip. The man’s face flushed, torn between rage and hesitation, unsure whether to attack or retreat. Zhong Chunji couldn’t help laughing quietly at the absurdity of it all. Chi Yun’s audacity had long been legendary—no wonder Pu Zhongqu, the “Iron Goose” of Yanmen, had been so incensed by him in the past.

Chi Yun continued, his words slicing the tense air: “You’re old, fragile in skill, and lack restraint. If we fought, you’d be down in one blow. Yet here you stand, trembling with indignation.” The green-clad man’s eyes widened, realization dawning: Chi Yun’s assessment of his lower body skills was painfully accurate.

A calm voice rang from outside the gate. “How long do you intend to sit there? How dare you speak so to a senior?” The Yanmen members tensed. But the next words stopped them in their tracks: every syllable was gentle yet piercing, wise and precise—the truth they had longed to hear, but feared to voice.

Chi Yun snorted. “Then how should one speak?”

The voice replied with a serene smile, “With humility, respect, and composure. Your arrogance explains why Yanmen sought to push you away rather than invite you in for tea.”

Jiang Feiyu, still grieving, released his hold on the youth in blue, who strode forward as the vermilion gate swung open. Standing outside was a young man in simple robes, a baby cradled in his arms, eyebrows delicately arched, and a gentle, confident smile on his face.

“Chi Yun?” the youth in blue asked, disbelief shading his tone.

A light breeze fluttered around him, and in the next instant, Chi Yun had landed gracefully on the ground. Dusting himself off, he pointed at the newcomer with a cool edge. “This man is Tang Lici.”

The blue-clad youth stared blankly, words failing him. Zhong Chunji quickly stepped forward, introducing him. “This is Mr. Tang, adopted son of the emperor’s father-in-law.”

Jiang Feiyu’s eyes widened. “So noble, yet you come to Yanmen… why?”

Tang Lici stepped into the courtyard, baby Fengfeng in his arms, and inclined his head slightly. “I come not for idle reasons. The capital demanded my attention, but one matter here cannot be delayed.” He glanced at Chi Yun with a faint smile, as if basking in the spring sunlight.

Pu Zhongqu’s voice cut through coldly: “Yanmen is no place for someone of your stature. What is it you seek?”

Tang Lici’s expression remained serene. “Jiangcheng discovered that Feng Chuanxiang’s death is tied to Shi Tinghe. He went to Xiaoyan Lake to meet Miss Zhong. Who else in Yanmen knew of it?”

“The sect leader and I,” Pu Zhongqu replied. “Do you imply that either of us had dealings with this poison?”

Tang Lici’s smile was soft, almost wistful. “Jiangcheng died because of this. Isn’t that grave enough? The matter involves Shi Tinghe, Chi Yun, and Miss Zhong—heroes of the white and black ways, and a disciple of the revered Xue Xianzi. The consequences ripple through the martial world. If Yanmen can provide guidance, it will be a boon to all.”

Pu Zhongqu faltered, Jiang Feiyu startled. “Mr. Tang is… right. Jiangcheng died over this, yet I know nothing of Chi Yun. How… how are you involved?”

Tang Lici sighed, a shadow passing over his face. “Do you know of Miss Bai, the ‘Mingyue Tianyi’ of the Bai family, who ran away from home?”

Jiang Feiyu nodded slowly. “I’ve heard whispers…”

Tang Lici continued, voice steady but heavy: “Bai Su Che is Chi Yun’s future wife. Two years ago, her father arranged the marriage in gratitude for Chi Yun saving her life. Yet Bai Su Che ran away, leaving Chi Yun to investigate. Her disappearance may also connect to this poison.”

Emotion swelled in Jiang Feiyu’s voice. “Then today, I will summon all disciples and interrogate them. Someone leaked information, causing Cheng’er to meet Shi Tinghe at Xiaoyan Lake. If it weren’t for that spy, he would still be alive!”

Tang Lici inclined his head, silent acknowledgment. Jiang Feiyu invited him inside, servants presenting tea, while Zhong Chunji’s thoughts wandered. Tang Lici’s earlier words about respect, gentleness, and composure echoed in her mind—indeed, he carried himself with such grace that even Yanmen could only invite him to tea. She stole a glance at Chi Yun, disdain flickering across his face as he assisted Tang Lici with Fengfeng, leaving the martial elders bewildered.


Days later, Taoist Qinghe of Wudang arrived at Yanmen, mourning Shi Tinghe’s death. He explained that several sects had discovered disciples afflicted with strange, incurable poisons—a troubling crisis spreading through the martial world.

Jiang Feiyu inquired of Jiang Nanfeng, martial arts leader of another sect. Taoist Qinghe explained that Jiang Nanfeng had vanished after Wei Beiyin destroyed Jiang Nan Villa, retiring with his son for safety. He also warned that Yu Xiu, the “Sky Eye,” Rong Yin, the “White Hair,” and Qi Yang, the genius doctor, had disappeared following Bai Nanzhu’s death, searching for the long-missing Young Master Shengxiang. They were unlikely to intervene in the present crisis anytime soon.

Hearing this, all present felt a pang of nostalgia. The grandeur of Li Ling’s banquet, the siege of Shangxuan, and the death of Bai Nanzhu seemed like a distant dream. Martial heroes had scattered, and the era of glory felt irretrievably lost.

Martial legends congregated at Yanmen to discuss Shi Tinghe’s death, yet Xue Xianzi was absent. Zhong Chunji sighed, believing her master had dismissed her earnest letter as trivial. Meanwhile, Chi Yun and Tang Lici occupied the Yanmen guest room, ignoring the elders’ whispers and judgment, their focus on matters far beyond the martial world’s politics.

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