Chapter 14: Emerging from the Mountains, Sword in Hand

Thump, thump, thump...!

"Master, your disciple seeks an audience!"

Clad in flowing white robes, Ye Yuan stepped lightly through the air, alighting gracefully three feet before his master's courtyard gate. He approached, knocked, and called out.

"Come in!" Zhang Sanfeng's voice rang out, robust and full of energy.

Ye Yuan pushed open the door and entered, only to find his master, seldom seen idle, not practicing martial arts but rather seated early on a stone bench, reciting a Daoist scripture.

Seeing Ye Yuan enter, Zhang Sanfeng set aside the Daoist text and smiled, "My disciple, it's only been one night apart and you already miss your master?"

Knowing his master's penchant for humor, Ye Yuan could only roll his eyes in response—a grand, deliberate gesture, for he needn't exaggerate to make his point.

"Master, I am setting off to roam the martial world and rescue fallen heroines!" Ye Yuan declared with righteous fervor.

"Oh? As expected of my disciple! In my younger days, I, too, saved countless fallen heroines. Each one wished to devote herself to me, but alas..." Zhang Sanfeng began, nostalgia shining in his eyes.

"Stop, stop, stop! Master, I could recite your tales of glory by heart now!" Noticing the reminiscent look and the air of one who has seen through the red dust, Ye Yuan quickly cut him off.

"Hmph! You have no sympathy for an old man!" Zhang Sanfeng's white beard trembled with indignation.

Yet Zhang Sanfeng treated this fearless young disciple differently from others. He never wore a stern face or lectured him harshly; instead, their rapport was unusually warm and lighthearted.

Looking at the youth before him—handsome as jade, brimming with vigor—Zhang Sanfeng could not help but sigh inwardly. He recalled how, seven years ago, Ye Yuan had only reached his waist, a spoiled and delicate child when he first brought him to Wudang Mountain. Now, the little boy had, without notice, grown to nearly match his brow in height.

"Master, I'm leaving tomorrow. Do you have any divine weapon or sharp blade for me to defend myself? It doesn't have to be too powerful—just more formidable than the Heaven-Reliant Sword that Abbess Miejue wields," Ye Yuan said, eyes filled with hope.

"Out of the question! Do you think the Heaven-Reliant Sword is a common trinket? All I have in my room is one sword—take it or leave it," Zhang Sanfeng said, glaring and rising to retrieve it.

Ye Yuan hurried after him, eager.

"Master, this sword is beautiful! What is its name?"

Holding the three-foot-long blade, glowing with a jade-green light, Ye Yuan found himself ever more enamored.

"This sword is called Autumn Water. It was my companion in my youth, but I have had little use for it since then."

In that instant, Ye Yuan felt profound awe. His master truly had style—when all heroes lay subdued, the long sword rested in vain!

"My disciple, I need not worry about your journey into the world. Your internal and external skills have reached their peak; few in the martial world can best you in single combat. But beware—there are many deceitful and treacherous people out there. Guard yourself against their plots and schemes," Zhang Sanfeng said with heartfelt concern.

Hearing the care in his master's words, Ye Yuan's eyes grew moist. He nodded solemnly, "Rest assured, Master. If I don't trick others, it's already good enough. I won't be taken advantage of."

The next morning, after bidding farewell to everyone on Wudang Mountain, Ye Yuan set off with brisk steps into the dazzling sunrise.

Dressed in fine attire, with a horse at his side and a sword in hand, he set out to roam the world!

How many people dreamed of such a youth?

At that moment, Ye Yuan found himself wanting to say, "Brother from my past life, I'll help realize your dream!"

Strolling along the mountain path, Ye Yuan's spirits soared. Compared to the future world, littered and overcrowded, here the woods were lush, streams clear, and beauty abounded. Passing through villages, he saw interlaced fields and farmers busy in their work, their faces radiant with happiness.

Ding-dang, ding-dang!

Over a small bridge, by flowing water, a shepherd boy returned home at dusk. The gentle sound of bells calmed Ye Yuan's restless heart.

As the setting sun cast its final rays, a white-robed youth carrying a sword strode into Shiyan Town.

This was the nearest town to Wudang Mountain, and Ye Yuan’s first stop after leaving the mountain. He intended to purchase supplies for his journey and, if possible, find an old horse that met his standards.

Though he had never ridden a horse before.

But how could a promising young hero lack a dashing steed? After all, to roam the world with sword in hand, he must at least cross all of the Central Plains! Perhaps he might even venture westward—he had long wished to visit the Potala Palace, though in his previous life, poverty had kept him away.

His planned route would span mountains and rivers; surely he couldn’t traverse it all on foot. That would hardly suit the image of an elegant young hero.

Amid bustling crowds, the overwhelming clamor of daily life made Ye Yuan pause. Passersby, catching sight of the youth standing in the street, dared not stare—after a swift glance, they hurriedly bowed their heads and moved on.

For under the Yuan dynasty, all peoples were divided into ranks.

First were the Mongols, the "national race," whom the rulers deemed their own flesh and blood.

Second came the Semu—mostly people from the Western Regions, with some Khitans included.

Third were the Han—those north of the Huai River, from the former Jin territories, including Khitans, Jurchens, early-conquered people from Yunnan, and even Koreans.

Fourth were the Southerners—those from former Southern Song lands, the lowest class.

Most people south of the Yangtze were considered Southerners, the lowest caste. Yet Ye Yuan’s silvery eyes resembled those of the second-class Semu.

No wonder the townsfolk feared and avoided him.

"Humans truly are communal creatures," Ye Yuan sighed, and continued on.

Glorious Inn!

"Ha! Of course, every martial world must have a Glorious Inn!" He smiled at the two-story building ahead after weaving through the lively street.

Patting the ten taels of silver his senior brother had given him before his departure, Ye Yuan strode confidently forward.

"Welcome, honored guest!" Even before he reached the door, a waiter greeted him with the exuberant smile of a blooming chrysanthemum.

Ye Yuan's heart skipped a beat. In his previous life, the first time he got paid, such a smile had lured him into a salon, and he’d barely escaped with his underwear pawned.

Such painful memories explained his lingering wariness.

"Bah, what am I afraid of? At least I’m a young hero with a bright future! Besides, weren’t ancient people supposed to be honest and sincere? Or so I hope..." Reassured by the expectation of the ancients’ virtue, Ye Yuan gripped his ten taels and entered the inn with resolve.

Behind him, the waiter grew even more respectful—regardless of the sword on Ye Yuan’s back, he too was of the lowest class; they were kin in adversity.

Inside, the aroma of meat and wine made Ye Yuan’s throat tighten.

The main hall was filled with a dozen tables, crowded with travelers and laborers. The sounds of drinking games and clinking bowls echoed throughout. To his right, behind a high counter, a portly man worked an abacus—clearly the inn’s accountant or manager.

"Sir, please head upstairs. We have private seats above," the waiter said, noticing Ye Yuan’s pause and unreadable expression. Years of service had made him adept at reading people. Mistaking Ye Yuan for a Semu, he assumed the youth would not wish to sit among the lower ranks, and hurried to guide him upstairs.

Ascending the creaking wooden stairs, Ye Yuan followed. The second floor was indeed much quieter—about a hundred square meters, with only four tables by the window and two private rooms on either side of the stairs.

The room on the left was closed—clearly occupied; the right was vacant. Two of the window tables were taken: one by five or six burly men in blue short coats, the other by an old man in embroidered robes, drinking alone.

Ye Yuan noticed, with a glance, that the burly men, though eating and drinking noisily, remained vigilant. As soon as he appeared, several knife-edged gazes fixed upon him.

Ye Yuan frowned. Though their loyalty was admirable, should they meet a bad-tempered expert, blood would soon be shed.

Sensing the tense air, the waiter’s heart leapt into his throat.

"Heavenly Emperor, Guanyin Bodhisattva, please bless us! May these fiends not start a brawl—if they break anything, the manager will dock my wages again!" Perhaps the gods did hear his plea.

Moments later, seeing that Ye Yuan, though sword-bearing, was only a thin youth—likely a noble’s son playing at the martial world—they withdrew their stares.

Seeing they didn’t seek trouble, Ye Yuan was slightly disappointed. "Am I not the protagonist? Isn’t this the part where a group of idiots challenges me, so I can make a name for myself?"

Realizing he was not blessed with the aura of lowering others’ intelligence, he sulked a moment, then took a seat by the window, at the leftmost table.

He now sat facing the old man in embroidered robes, a table between them.

The old man greeted him with a beaming smile and a nod.

"This shameless old man—could he be coveting my beauty?"

Faced with the radiant smile, Ye Yuan forced an awkward yet polite smile in return, then turned to the waiter at his side. "Brother, what are your signature dishes?"

At the mention of food, the waiter forgot his earlier anxiety and eagerly listed, "Honored guest, ours is the largest inn for a hundred miles. Our specialties are many: braised pork knuckle, steamed Wuchang fish, Tianmen triple-steamed, braised Yi River clams, mandarin fish in tomato sauce, Huangpi three-ways, Mianyang triple-steamed, Family Feast, Furong chicken slices, braised soft-shelled turtle, tangerine fish balls..."

Listening to the litany, Ye Yuan’s mouth watered. In seven years, he had never left the mountain. Zhang Sanfeng, being a Daoist, did not abstain from meat but preferred light fare; the mountain meals were mostly vegetables and tofu. Years ago, when his seventh senior Mo Shenggu was still present, they’d often sneak to the back hills for wild game. But since his senior’s departure, Ye Yuan had not bothered, and two more years of greens and tofu had left him famished for something different.

"I'll have the steamed Wuchang fish, Furong chicken slices, braised soft-shelled turtle, braised pork knuckle, and a pot of your best wine," Ye Yuan declared grandly, as if to say, "I’m not short on money!"

The waiter answered promptly, grinning as he rushed downstairs to alert the kitchen.

"Never mind, money is just a thing—if I spend it, I’ll earn (or take) more. Aren’t all young heroes in the martial world like this? If needed, just find some local tyrant to ‘sponsor’ me, and I’ll be living carefree again."

With dreams of a future where money was no concern, Ye Yuan eagerly awaited his meal.

Suddenly, he sensed two potent presences in the closed private room.

It was their internal skills that caught his attention—both had cultivated impressive inner power, likely having opened their Eight Extraordinary Meridians and Twelve Principal Meridians, no less than second-rate experts in the martial world.

Ye Yuan was intrigued. Who could they be?

"Are these the destined rivals of my fate?" he mused.

In the martial world, small sects or families rarely possessed advanced internal cultivation methods. Most second- or third-rate groups only had rudimentary techniques; the best were held by first-rate powers. As for supreme skills—like Wudang’s Pure Yang Infinite Skill or Shaolin’s Muscle-Tendon Transformation Classic—only a handful of sects had those.

Why, then, had he so casually encountered two people with such accomplished inner strength?

But, given the proximity to Wudang Mountain, it was not uncommon for martial peers to pass through on their way to pay respects.

"Perhaps they are just passing through on their way to Wudang," Ye Yuan reasoned.

Soon, his attention was wholly claimed by the delicacies set before him. With such culinary temptations, how could he care about two strangers? He devoted himself to making short work of the feast.

Little did he know that his rise to unrivaled strength in both fist and sword would begin precisely with those two strangers.