Chapter Fifty-Six: First Encounter by the Han River

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"Qin’er, it’s been a long time!" The young man looked at the woman in yellow within the pavilion, his face adorned with a cheerful smile.

As she gazed upon that familiar expression and heard the voice she had yearned for day and night, the frost that had lingered on her face melted away like winter snow in an instant, replaced by a gentle smile. "This time, you mustn’t leave me behind again," she said softly.

It was clear that this young man and child were none other than Yuanye and Wuji, who had left Mount Wudang a year ago. Over the past year, Yuanye had disguised himself as a blind physician, traveling from place to place with Wuji, offering medical aid wherever they went.

Even if one did not speak of him, Wuji himself had become quite renowned in the martial world.

To avoid recognition and trouble, Yuanye used medicine to stain his own face a waxy yellow, while Wuji, who once was a fair and handsome youth, had been transformed into a dark-skinned boy.

As they journeyed, Yuanye seemed to have completely forgotten his martial arts, relying solely on his feet to traverse the realm. Wuji, resilient by nature and accustomed to hardship since childhood, never complained about their rough life on the road. Instead, he often worried that Yuanye, unable to see, might stumble into a pit by accident.

Along their travels, whenever Yuanye encountered impoverished folk or wandering heroes, he treated them with all his skill, never accepting a coin in return.

But should the patient be one of those wicked landlords, corrupt officials, or ruthless martial artists who oppressed the innocent, he would ignore them entirely.

At first, some local tyrants or martial artists attempted to bully the blind man and the child, trying to force Yuanye to treat them with violence. Yet these individuals met with mysterious ends, dying without a sound or trace, as if haunted.

Gradually, word spread across the land: "The Divine Blind Doctor has saved countless lives, shielded by deities. Those who offend him will be struck down by divine retribution."

Only Yuanye himself knew the truth: these people had merely been rewarded with an embroidery needle by the little Fanzi, who followed behind him and Wuji.

As his mastery of the Sunflower Manual deepened, his movements became swift as a ghost, and he followed Yuanye’s instruction to switch his weapon to embroidery needles, making him all the more terrifying.

After all, what could be more fitting for the Sunflower Manual than embroidery needles?

Thus, those who intended to harm Yuanye and Wuji would see only a flash of purple before a needle, fine as ox hair, pierced their brow and into the brain, killing them instantly, leaving no time even for a scream.

Such bizarre deaths soon became rumored among ignorant folk as the work of spirits or divine punishment.

Martial experts, of course, saw through these tales, but recognizing that a master surely protected the Divine Blind Doctor, they thought better than to provoke him.

Recently, Yuanye received news that the branch of the Nine Provinces Trading Guild in Shaanxi was in trouble. As he happened to be nearby, he went to look into the matter himself.

After resolving the Guild's difficulties, he suddenly remembered the girl who was both a source of his longing and his headaches, and so he took Wuji with him to Mount Zhongnan.

They lingered on Mount Zhongnan for half a month before Yuanye departed with Wuji. Yet, while they arrived as two, they left as three.

For two days, the three of them traveled south along the main road before switching to river travel. Amidst the misty expanse of rivers and lakes, the overlapping green of mountains, the pavilions by the water, and the bustle of boats and people, life’s poetry unfolded in every moment.

They were in no hurry. Yuanye simply bought a small boat, making himself the boatman, while Yang Yaoqin played the role of the boat-woman.

Wuji, meanwhile, transformed from a farm boy into a fisher lad; his dark face suited him well enough to pass for someone raised on the water.

This leisurely journey proved most rewarding, washing away much of the fatigue that Yuanye and Wuji had accumulated for so long.

One day, as their boat drifted onto the Han River, Yuanye sat at the gunwale, wearing a bamboo hat and fishing intently with a rod in hand.

On the other side, Yang Yaoqin and Wuji chatted. Wuji, ever playful, kept calling her "sister," making her secretly happy, though she softly protested that she was too old to be addressed so.

But when Wuji grinned and called her "Master's wife," she grew flustered, repeatedly forbidding it, though her cheeks flushed as she stole a glance at the man still fishing so guilelessly, her eyes full of longing and reproach.

Just then, a booming voice echoed across the river: "Stop the boat at once and hand over the child. Show obedience and the Buddha will spare your life; resist and show no mercy!"

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The voice carried clearly over the waves, revealing the speaker’s considerable inner strength.

At that moment, Yang Yaoqin was already annoyed with a certain obtuse man. Hearing these words, she assumed someone meant to harm Wuji. After half a month together, she had grown fond of this kind-hearted, resilient child.

Instantly, she was furious, a cold sneer forming in her heart: "I’d like to see who dares demand the child from me!"

She had, since youth, trained in the world’s finest martial arts, her skills rivaled by few, though her name was little known for her rare appearances in the martial world.

But what had she to fear, especially with an almost invincible fool by her side?

Yang Yaoqin pulled Wuji to her and told him to return to the cabin. Lifting her gaze, she saw two river boats speeding toward them.

Focusing her eyes, she spotted a burly, bearded man at the stern of the leading small boat, urgently rowing with both hands, two children—a boy and a girl—inside the cabin.

Behind, a larger boat carried four foreign monks and seven or eight Mongolian officers, who helped row with planks.

The burly man’s strength was remarkable; with a single stroke, his boat surged forward by several yards. But the larger vessel, manned by many, was swiftly gaining.

In no time, the Mongolian officers and monks bent their bows and fired arrows at the bearded man, the air whistling with the passage of feathered shafts.

Yang Yaoqin quickly realized: "So they mean to force that bearded man to give up the children, not to pursue us after all."

This matter had nothing to do with them, but her family lineage traced back to the legendary archer Yang Guo from the late Song, who, while aiding the great hero Guo Jing in the defense of Xiangyang, slew the Mongolian prince Möngke with a stone amidst countless enemies.

Thus, Yang Yaoqin harbored no fondness for the Mongol invaders. Witnessing these foreign monks and Mongolian officers hunting a Han man, she was moved to intervene.

At this, Yuanye rose to his feet. The bearded man, with one hand still rowing, raised his oar to fend off the arrows—his movements swift and skilled.

"Qin’er, this man’s martial arts are formidable. A hero in distress—how can we not save him?" Yuanye said.

Yang Yaoqin nodded; his thoughts matched her own.

Seeing the man’s peril from afar, Yuanye realized they could not wait for their boat to drift closer on the current. Summoning his internal strength, he slapped the water behind the boat with his right palm.

Bang!

With a thunderous explosion, water splashed in all directions. Driven by the immense recoil, their boat shot forward like an arrow, racing toward the two other vessels.

Before the boats could close, Yuanye and Yang Yaoqin heard a sudden cry of pain. Looking up, they saw the boy in the small boat struck by an arrow in the back.

The bearded man was aghast, bending down to check on the boy, but was himself hit in the shoulder and back. His grip faltered, the oar slipping into the river, and the boat ceased to move.

The larger boat quickly caught up, and seven or eight Mongolian officers and monks leaped onto the small craft. The bearded man, wounded yet unyielding, fought back with fists and feet.

Yuanye, enraged, shouted, "Mongol dogs, cease your violence!" With a tap of his toe, he leapt, white robes fluttering, soaring through the air toward the small boat.

Yang Yaoqin followed, skimming the water’s surface like a fairy dancing upon waves.

Two Mongolian officers, alarmed by their approach, fired arrows. Yuanye, airborne, was unfazed, striking out with his palm and sending the two shafts spinning harmlessly away.

Yang Yaoqin, no less formidable, swept her sleeve, redirecting the arrows with a twist of her martial power, sending them back where they came.

Swish! Swish! With two sharp sounds, both Mongolian officers were struck in the throat by their own arrows, tumbling into the river.

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Before the remaining officers could even be shocked by the fate of their comrades, Yuanye had already landed on the deck. With a sweep of his left palm, two monks were hurled a dozen feet, plunging into the river with a splash. Without a backward glance, Yuanye struck the water twice more, ensuring they would not surface again.

Yang Yaoqin alighted beside him, her cold gaze sweeping across the remaining monks and Mongolian officers.

They, seeing the two descend like immortals and dispatch four of their number in a heartbeat, were filled with terror.

The leader of the officers shouted, "You there, man and woman! What do you think you’re doing?"

Yuanye’s eyes turned icy. "Mongol dogs! Once again you commit evil, harming the innocent. None of you will leave alive today. My sword has long hungered for blood!"

The officer bellowed, "Do you even know who this is? He’s a remnant of the traitorous Demon Sect of Yuanzhou, wanted by the entire world! Are you planning to rebel?"

Hearing "remnant of the Yuanzhou Demon Sect," Yuanye was startled. "Can it be such a coincidence? With Master not here, I’ve stumbled into this myself! Is this fate’s correction at work?"

Though his mind raced, his expression betrayed nothing. He turned to the bearded man. "Are you Chang Yuchun of Fengyang? Is what he says true?"

Bleeding profusely, the bearded man cradled the boy, tears brimming in his tiger eyes. "Young master... young master has been killed by their arrows. I am indeed Chang Yuchun." With these words, he admitted his identity.

Certain now of his suspicions, Yuanye felt a heavy weight in his heart, but knew this was not the time for pondering such matters. "Is this Zhou Ziwang’s child?" he asked.

Chang Yuchun choked, "Yes. I have failed in my duty; my life is forfeit."

He gently laid the boy’s body down and lunged at the officer. But wounded, two poisoned arrows still in his back and shoulder, he managed only a brief leap before collapsing with a groan onto the deck.

The little girl clung to the corpse of the boatman, crying, "Father! Father!" Yang Yaoqin, seeing from the clothing that the dead man was the boatman, felt great pity for the orphaned, weeping child. She stepped forward and gently drew the girl into her arms.

The officer, witnessing Yuanye’s martial prowess, realized that if it came to a fight, none of them would survive. Hoping to frighten the strangers off with official authority, he called out loudly, "Who are you to interfere in imperial business? Are you not afraid of your family’s destruction?"

Yuanye smiled faintly. "Why should you care who I am? The affairs of the world concern all its people. As for your mighty court, it can neither exterminate my family nor destroy my clan."

The officer tried a different tack. "May I ask your name and where you are from, friend? If you’ll step aside today, the court will reward you handsomely."

Zhang Sanfeng merely glanced at him, not bothering to reply.

The two Mongolian officers exchanged a glance, realizing there would be no peaceful resolution. They could only fight for their lives.

In the next instant, both drew their sabers and slashed at Yuanye’s shoulder with all their might. The blades came swiftly and, in the cramped space of the boat, left no room to evade.

Yuanye merely shifted his body slightly, turning from facing the bow to the port side. The blades cut nothing but air. With a double palm strike, he hit them both squarely in the back, snapping, "Be gone!"

His inner strength sent them flying, and they landed with twin crashes in their original boat. The small craft, already flimsy, splintered under the weight of two full-grown men with a series of sharp cracks and instantly broke apart.

The two Mongolian officers, blood and fragments of their ruined organs spilling from their mouths, still clung to life for a moment, but soon slipped into the river, becoming food for the fish.