This place was called Cangshi City, located not far from the border of Daliang. With its poor land and sparse population, it had never known prosperity throughout its history.
Refugees displaced by war often passed through the area. The bandits looting along nearby mountain roads probably outnumbered the city's residents.
Those with means had fled southeast with their families long ago. The rest could only continue living in confusion—after all, Daliang seemed flooded with disaster these days, and every place was suffering.
In recent years, the imperial court had frequently sent troops to suppress bandits, granting this desolate little city some measure of peace. Now, because of one nameless person, it had become famous overnight.
Since the little beggar was born, she had never seen so many people in the city. The air still hung damp, yet the streets and alleys were already packed with warriors carrying swords and knives.
The little beggar had crawled through a hole in the wall, clutching a broken bowl as she begged along the street.
She didn't dare approach too closely. These warriors were ruthless—she'd already suffered a serious loss, being shoved so hard she'd nearly broken a bone.
Life outside wasn't easy. She shivered as she paced for a long while before a young man finally tossed her a few copper coins.
The child bowed and thanked him, then hurried to a nearby stall. She tossed in the money, grabbed a steamed bun, and wolfed it down.
Two ragged adult men squatted nearby. Seeing this, they cursed angrily, then dropped their half-risen buttocks back down.
The little beggar choked, clutching her neck as she swallowed with difficulty. The rice flour, mingling with her saliva, took on a faint sweetness. She squinted her eyes with rare innocence and smiled at the two men from afar.
She was still thinking about her sword manual. After eating and no longer feeling hungry, she found a tavern bustling with people. Sitting cross-legged at the door, she observed the merchants coming and going, hoping to find a kind and generous swordsman to whom she could quietly sell her discovery.
Several rough voices drifted through the open door, intermittently repeating the same name. The child pressed against the door panel, eavesdropping on the conversation inside.
"Is Song Huiya really dead this time?"
"How could it be false? Sect Master Xie led the expedition himself, and people from both righteous and unorthodox circles responded. Even if Song Huiya had three heads and six arms, she couldn't defeat thousands. I heard she grew desperate and jumped from the cliff. Now even her bones can't be found. Alas, she was a hero of her generation, yet died so miserably. Things are truly unpredictable."
"Your rumors are unreliable. If that were true, they should have dispersed long ago. Why surround Wumingya with three layers, even turning over the soil?"
"Even if she didn't die, she's hard-pressed to protect herself. Otherwise, with her temper, how could she endure it? She would have come out and turned the world upside down long ago! You and I couldn't just sit here drinking in peace." The strong man took a sip of wine. Seeing his companion's eyes dark and uneasy, he couldn't help joking, "Why? Do you also want to search for Song Huiya's body at Wuming Cliff?"
He continued half-jokingly, "It's certainly a way to make a fortune. If you really find her—alive, hand her to the court; dead, hand her to the Wulin Alliance. Brother, you'd have wealth and glory for life."
The young swordsman laughed loudly, "Hahaha! Such shameless wealth is better left untouched!"
The sturdy man's face suddenly darkened. He warned in a low voice, "Don't say such things."
The young swordsman looked kind and easygoing, but he was stubborn. He sneered, "What's there to fear? So many martial artists have come to the city these past two days, all gathering information. It's finally over after all this commotion—do you want another fight? No matter how high Xie Zhongchu's reputation, he can't stop people's mouths!"
The little beggar was moved by what she heard. She rolled her eyes twice, mind working.
The woman in the dilapidated temple—her identity was unknown. She'd come suddenly and been injured by coincidence. She was probably connected to the turmoil at Wumingya. If she reported it and found a clue, could she also earn a reward?
The child blew warm air into her palm and hunched over to stand. Just as she was about to enter and inquire, she heard an angry shout from inside, followed by a wooden chair being overturned and kicked out.
A dark-skinned young man in a cloth shirt picked up a stick at hand, pointed it at the young swordsman's nose, and cursed, "Shut up! What are your origins, you rascal? For the sake of Song Huiya, that murderous devil, you actually insult Sect Master Xie!"
The young swordsman was already full of anger, and these words provoked him further. He stood suddenly and retorted, "Yes! Nine out of ten deaths in the martial world are said to be Song Huiya's doing! She's truly powerful—able to travel three thousand miles back and forth in a day. Foreign invaders have ravaged Daliang for decades, digging up graves and destroying lives, yet they haven't killed as many as Song Huiya supposedly has. I suppose even the Palace of Hell was built by her!"
The strong man traveling with him hurriedly pulled his sleeve, urging restraint. The young swordsman waved him away, exclaiming, "We both know the truth. Outsiders can believe a few words, but don't let them fool you!"
The burly man, frightened, exerted force and sternly warned, "Shh—are you trying to get yourself killed?"
The young swordsman said, "I'm just telling the truth. What's wrong with that? Song Huiya dared to accept the heroic order and traveled west alone to cut off the enemy general's head—for that alone, I respect her. Song Huiya fought bravely at the front while Hu Mingshen plotted and attacked from behind. I have eyes and can distinguish right from wrong!"
The burly man reached out to cover his mouth, pushing and pulling, trying to restrain him. The young man was quicker, and in the shoving match, he'd already vented his anger.
"Song Huiya wanting to kill Hu Mingshen and his son—that's only natural! The heroes the court repeatedly failed to summon are now fighting against their own people, and suddenly everyone comes out claiming justice!"
"I'll wait and see. If the Hu people produce another great general who can command troops like a god, can Xie Zhongchu find another Song Huiya? Haha! Don't turn coward when that time comes!"
The young swordsman's angry condemnation forced the tavern into complete silence.
Everyone stopped talking and laughing, looking at them meaningfully.
The waiter huddled in a corner with his tray, face mournful and eyes filled with despair, as if his parents had died.
His companion was frightened by these wild, unrestrained words and broke out in cold sweat. He humbly clasped his fists and apologized to all around, "I'm sorry, truly sorry—he drank a little too much!"
The young swordsman patted his ruffled collar and said arrogantly, "I'm not drunk. I just feel sad. Song Huiya didn't die under enemy swords and spears, but in the schemes of her own people. If I were a Hu person, I'd wake in the middle of the night laughing and applauding!"
"Well said!" A young man in green clothes clapped his hands vigorously from the edge of the second-floor railing. "I came to Wumingya this time just to see if anyone in this vast world dares tell the truth!"
"The thief Song has more than one accomplice?" The young man with the stick glared, eyes wide, ready to spit fire. He was tongue-tied, unable to get a word in, his mind a mess. After a long while, he finally managed in a trembling voice, "Since when has killing innocent people earned the reputation of hero? You're here flattering her to no end, trying to excuse her crimes. Do you think the souls of those who died untimely deaths are already cold and unable to defend themselves? Fine, fine—you're all heroes of the world, only seeing the honor and disgrace of the upper class, not caring about the lives of ordinary people. But I consider myself a mortal, and I'll never reconcile with her in this life!"
Another person stepped forward and echoed, "Fortunately, there are still people like Sect Master Xie in the martial world! Sect Master Xie also went to a meeting alone, penetrated deep into enemy territory, and returned victorious. But he's indifferent by nature—how could he seek credit for it? He's a man of great benevolence and righteousness. How can a mere Song Huiya be compared with Senior Xie?"
More people spoke up simultaneously:
"That's right! If Song Huiya hadn't been too murderous, why would Sect Master Xie have taken her life? There were thousands of bright roads for her to walk, but she insisted on attending this Hongmen Banquet!"
"Is there no reason Hu Mingshen wants her dead? Song Huiya's swordsmanship is a few points better than others, so she's automatically right? Since it all depends on one's own ability, Hu Mingshen being able to persuade old friends to help—isn't that also skill? Don't make it sound as if the entire martial world wants to persecute her!"
All kinds of sarcastic and harsh comments covered the sky like an impenetrable net.
The combination of powerlessness and anger made the young swordsman's head hot. He blurted out, "Song Huiya acted righteously and killed bandits—that's well-known fact. The enemy wanted to eat her flesh and drink her blood, offered a thousand taels of gold to make her a general and marquis. Does Xie Zhongchu have such a reputation among the Hu people? In my opinion, whether the woman was actually killed by Xie Zhongchu is debatable!"
As soon as the words fell, the young man felt regret. As expected, it aroused the crowd's fury. Even the spectators who had remained silent frowned in disagreement.
Everyone's faces paled as they slammed tables and stood, shouting, "Of course she can't compare to Song Huiya's ruthlessness—she slaughters entire families with a single strike! What about the civilians who died at her hands? Does killing a Hu man justify killing Han Chinese?"
The warrior wielding the staff was furious. He swept his iron staff with murderous intent and roared, "You arrogant brat! I thought you were reasonable, but you're just spreading rumors and stirring up trouble! Today, I'll smash your teeth with this stick and teach you how to speak like a human being!"
The young swordsman's face changed suddenly. He drew his sword to block, shouting, "You think I'm afraid of you?!"
His companion rushed to his aid.
Seeing the fight break out, onlookers hurriedly fled, refusing to pay for their drinks. The clerk, not bothering to pursue payment, collapsed to his knees with a thud, kowtowed, and pleaded pitifully, "Gentlemen, please stop fighting! Go somewhere else! My family depends on this business for survival—Shopkeeper!"
The shopkeeper at the door clutched his forehead, gasping, and fainted.
The shop descended into chaos. Shadows mingled, making it impossible to distinguish friend from foe. Broken tables and chairs flew through doors and windows.
Seeing the situation turn dangerous, the young beggar swiftly leaped several feet away, patted her backside, muttered, "That was close," and cursed, "These people are all crazy!" Reluctant to leave, she climbed onto a long pillar across the street and hung there like a monkey, still peering in.
A group of young heroes fought tooth and nail over others' false reputations. The young beggar, while not fully understanding the logic, grasped the gist. She thought they were utterly foolish and sneered inwardly.
Fighting for others? How pointless.
She only cared about herself.
These martial artists were incredibly stingy. She'd cried until her throat was raw, yet they hadn't shed a single coin. All they talked about were worldly affairs—whose mighty warrior had shaken the martial world was now dead, how the world was ruined beyond repair, how people couldn't even afford to live.
She felt their boasts were so outrageous they could tear the sky apart. If such a powerful hero truly came to this shabby place where even birds wouldn't bother landing and saw a poor little beggar like her, wouldn't they have rewarded her with a few taels of silver and saved her?
Just look at these shabby people making such a scene! Even if they died, it wouldn't make a splash.
More and more people gathered to watch. As the fight reached its peak, a low, hoarse voice rose from nowhere, like spring thunder at the Waking of Insects, drowning out the clamor and echoing overhead.
"Stop!"
The little beggar thought it was just noise, but unexpectedly, the people in the tavern actually ceased fighting after hearing those words.
She uttered a surprised sound, squinting down, and heard everyone respectfully address someone, "Senior Xie!"
Mixed in the crowd, Xie Zhongchu was truly inconspicuous.
He wore an indigo robe, his white hair rustling, the ends damp, with fallen mountain leaves on his shoulders. He looked exhausted from his journey.
To call him a martial artist seemed wrong—he resembled more an elegant scholar. Even with displeasure on his face, he showed no particular sharpness. If not for the group of formidable warriors following him, it would be hard to believe he was the leader of the contemporary martial world.
Xie Zhongchu rushed to the door and saw the mess on the ground. He sighed with disappointment, bowed to passersby, and motioned for everyone to disperse. Entering the room, he glanced around and went first to the frightened shop assistant.
Xie Zhongchu supported the assistant's arm and helped him up. The assistant had a bruise on his forehead and was still in shock. Looking at that kind, amiable face, he felt he was seeing a god-like figure. After staring for a moment, grievances and sadness surged in his heart like a raging sea, choking him with tears. His legs went weak, and he wanted to kneel again. Xie Zhongchu held him firmly with both hands and waited until he stood steady before comforting him gently, "Don't be afraid, little brother. All the broken items in this store will be compensated by me. We came uninvited and caused you trouble—I'm truly sorry. Go to the side and wait a moment. I'll speak with them."
The waiter choked with sobs, wiped his face with his sleeves, and nodded vigorously.
Xie Zhongchu bent down, set a nearby bench upright, then walked slowly toward the crowd.
The young man with the stick pointed at the opposition, eager to complain, "Master Xie—"
"That's enough."
Xie Zhongchu didn't want to listen. He raised his hand to block, nodded slightly, and interrupted. Facing the young swordsman, the old man showed no emotion, nor did he act as a superior elder. He simply discussed calmly with the youth, "My friends, this place is plagued by drought and frost. There are few good farmlands, and most people are poor. It's difficult to have surplus food all year round—making a living isn't easy. You young friends are angry with me, so why make trouble here? If you still have resentment, go out and find a deserted place and have a proper fight with me. It would be doing me a favor."
The young man with the stick said quickly, "No more fighting."
The young swordsman muttered, "It's not like I started it."
The strong man traveling with him grabbed him, unable to conceal his shame, and said, "Yes, yes. Though my brother looks gentle, he's hot-headed with a quick temper. He speaks without restraint, which caused this misunderstanding. Master Xie, please don't take offense."
Xie Zhongchu smiled calmly, "I'm old and don't fear what people say. Besides, who in this world is perfect? I also want to accept good advice and change my ways. This young man is outspoken—his words are nothing serious. However, I'll say one thing: if you want to judge people in the future, please see them firsthand before making judgments. Harsh words always hurt and aren't kind."
This attitude left no one feeling resentful.
The young swordsman opened his mouth, feeling simmering anger that was difficult to relieve, unable to articulate what was wrong. In the end, he raised his hands, clasped his fists, bowed earnestly, and apologized politely. The atmosphere became joyful and peaceful. Those who witnessed this scene praised Xie Zhongchu's open-mindedness and generosity.
The little beggar was thoroughly entertained. She slid down from the pillar and said in an exaggerated, pretentious tone, "What a kind man!" Then she burst into laughter.
She walked around the street twice, shaking her hands. When the young swordsman emerged from the shop covered in dust, she quickly chased after him, extending her arms to block his way.
"Hero, hero!"
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