Gan Nineteenth Sister Chapter 1 – Part 3

Every soul present was stricken with horror. Every one of them stood rooted in place.

Six of the remaining disciples let out a collective shout, drew their weapons, and surged forward.

“Hold!” Li Tiexin barked.

The zhangmen’s¹ word was law. The six young men in dark blue halted in mid-stride, and where they stood was precisely at the circle’s edge. It had been close, perilously close.

Though so many people were now gathered before the gate, not one of them uttered a sound. The only voices came from within the circle, from the three who lay upon the ground.

Xu Bin the Wind-Chaser had entered the circle first, and his suffering was by far the worst. His face had gone black, the veins beneath his skin stood. He writhed in the snow like a serpent, his body coiling and uncoiling in the grip of unspeakable agony. He had plainly seen the zhangmen and his fellow disciples arrive, and the sight drove him to a frenzy of urgency. He was desperate to convey what he had endured—the terrible understanding he had wrung from the jaws of death—but the power to do so had already left him. His throat produced only a strangled, muffled howl.

Then, with a convulsive heave, he rolled over and dragged himself forward on his knees. He managed a few agonised paces before his strength failed and he pitched forward again. A great gush of thick, purplish blood came pouring from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nostrils.

Another life, extinguished.

The two young disciples still inside the circle were plainly following Xu Bin down the same path, stumbling toward the same end.

The living-corpse of a man standing beside the sedan had not altered his posture by so much as a hair’s breadth. Only his eyes had changed. Those eyes whose light seemed banked and hooded had fixed themselves upon Li Tiexin with an unblinking, predatory intensity. Everyone present, the Four Hall Elders included, found it impossible to maintain their composure in the face of such horror.

The Four Hall Elders held the highest seniority within Yueyang School, each presiding over one of the Four Halls: the Azure Hall,² the Fragrance Hall,³ the Cloud Hall,⁴ and the Splendour Hall.⁵ Every one of them outranked the zhangmen in generation and standing. Their martial arts were formidable, each in a different way, and their long years had bred in them a wisdom and temperance that seldom gave way to anger. But the sight before them now had stripped away every last vestige of restraint. Their faces were terrible to behold.

Yueyang School’s rules of discipline were severe, and the zhangmen’s authority was absolute—his word held the power of life and death. As matters now stood, no man among them would dare act without the zhangmen’s command. None would dare overstep that boundary by so much as a single pace.

Every eye turned toward Li Tiexin, awaiting his order to strike at the intruders.

The mention of “intruders” was almost laughable, for up to this moment, apart from the red-clad, red-capped retainer and the two sedan bearers, not a single soul had yet laid eyes upon the person who sat within the sedan chair.

Li Tiexin appeared to be studying the sedan with particular care. And yet for all the wealth of experience possessed by the zhangmen and the Four Hall Elders combined, not one of them could divine the person’s origins.

Li Tiexin the Peerless Sword swept those keen eyes once around the scene, and then took three deliberate steps backward.

Everyone followed his lead and retreated three paces with him.

In that same moment, the two dark-robed disciples lying inside the circle loosed a pair of agonised screams in quick succession, and died where they lay, blood streaming from all seven apertures.

Four bodies now lay before them. Including Old Ma, the manner of death was the same in every case: the faces had turned black, and all had perished bleeding from the seven orifices.

The pattern was immediately clear to all.

“Poison!”

One of the Hall Elders could not contain himself and blurted the word aloud.

The speaker was Peng Wanlin,⁶ the Fire Hedgehog,⁷ Hall Elder of the Azure Hall. He was sixty-seven or sixty-eight, with long eyebrows, narrow eyes, and a complexion the colour of dark jujubes. Every patch of exposed skin bore that same deep russet hue. It was from this that his sobriquet derived.

Peng Wanlin the Fire Hedgehog was master of the Azure Hall that was the place for the direct instruction of the school’s disciples in martial arts, and it was also the place where the disciples of Yueyang School spent most of their time. The sight of two of his own disciples dying in such a fashion cut him to the quick.

That single word “Poison” sent a tremor through every heart. They had all suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed from Peng Wanlin’s own lips lent it a force that struck like a physical blow.

In truth, Li Tiexin had been among the first to perceive the truth. His shouted command that had reined in the six disciples at the very brink, and his order to retreat three paces were both born of this realisation. As zhangmen and the most celebrated figure in recent memory of the wulin,⁸ Li Tiexin was a man of uncommon composure. That he could remain this steady after watching four of his own people die one after another was remarkable indeed.

A chill pallor crept across his face, cold as frost. He gave Elder Peng a slight nod. “Elder Peng’s assessment is sound. But the poison at work here, as we can all tell, is no ordinary venom.”

Peng Wanlin shot a glare of pure fury toward the lone figure and the sedan chair. “Give the word, Zhangmen, and I shall go forward at once to take the measure of this intruder. Let us see what manner of ability warrants such arrogance.”

He had scarcely finished speaking before the other three elders voiced their agreement, each declaring themselves ready to stake their lives against the enemy.

Li Tiexin addressed Elder Peng in a measured, deliberate tone. “Elder Peng is deeply versed in the science of poisons, and the danger of being overcome is small. Yet it is my belief that Elder Xu and the two disciples did not die of poison alone. The enemy clearly possesses some further lethal technique, and we must guard against it.”

The Four Hall Elders had always held their zhangmen in the highest regard. They knew that despite his relative youth, his mastery of both external and internal arts had long since reached the pinnacle. He was not a man who spoke lightly, and when he did speak, his words invariably hit the mark. If Li Tiexin claimed to have detected something beyond poison, there was assuredly a reason. The elders fell silent, and none pressed the matter further.

Every eye converged upon the lone figure and the sedan chair within the circle.

Their exchange had been conducted in the lowest of whispers—impossible for the enemy to overhear.

Li Tiexin surveyed the scene once more. As zhangmen, he could not delay. A decision was needed.

His mind made up, he stepped forward, fixed his gaze upon the sedan, and spoke, his voice cold and clear, “An honoured guest has come to our gate. The courteous thing would be to step inside and speak face to face. Yet you sit behind your curtain, toying with mystery and playing at riddles—a posture that invites only ridicule. Human life is a matter of supreme gravity. How do you answer for this, sir? Pray emerge from the sedan and shed some light on this matter.”

Every eye turned to the sedan, awaiting a reply.

They saw the gaunt man in red shift his stance for the first time. He stretched his arms wide, arching his back in an immense, languid yawn. Those watching could hear his joints crack and pop.

Then, abruptly, he seemed to be listening for something. His right ear twitched and flickered upward. Those strange, glinting eyes swivelled toward Li Tiexin the Peerless Sword. His face arranged itself into an expression of undisguised contempt. When he spoke, it was in the thick, heavy tones of a Southern accent.

“My master instructs: whoever from Yueyang School—be they old or young, senior or junior—can walk into this circle and lift the curtain of this sedan, that person alone is fit to speak with my master. All others deserve nothing but death. Is that understood?”

As he spoke, the prominent knob of his throat bobbed up and down, and set against that gaunt, bloodless face, the sight was repulsive in the extreme. His words fell upon the ears of Yueyang School’s assembled ranks like a slap across the face. The sheer, unhinged arrogance of the challenge was beyond comprehension. If the man were not out of his wits entirely, how could he dare utter such words in the presence of the renowned Li Tiexin? It bordered on madness.

A ripple of agitation ran through Yueyang School’s ranks. Every face was a mask of outrage.

Li Tiexin the Peerless Sword had been a famous man for many years. Since assuming command of the school, he had yet to meet his match. This brazen affront was, as the saying goes, “If this can be endured, what cannot?”⁹ And yet, he swallowed it.

He permitted himself a cold smile and fixed his gaze upon the gaunt stranger. “Those are the words your master bade you relay?”

The gaunt man gave a thin, mocking smile. “Just so.”

Li Tiexin let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Since I assumed the leadership of Yueyang School, I have held myself to a strict standard: rigour toward myself, forbearance toward others. Yet you arrive at our gate, master and servant both, in a manner that defies all reason. I would hear the full explanation.”

Two deep lines carved themselves into the gaunt man’s bloodless face. He spoke slowly, deliberately. “My master has already spoken. If you wish an answer, you must first lift the curtain. Otherwise, there is nothing more to say.”

Li Tiexin’s expression darkened, fury settling across his features. His voice turned to ice. “If your master insists upon these terms, then courtesy must yield to necessity, and we shall have no choice but to give offence. Huang and Cai, attend!”

Two of the six disciples answered the call at once, bowing with left palms over right fists.¹⁰

One was named Huang Yunfei,¹¹ the other Cai Nanxun.¹² Both were fighters of exceptional ability, soon to complete their formal training. They were the most distinguished of Yueyang School’s second-generation disciples. Huang Yunfei had a leopard’s brow and round, watchful eyes. Cai Nanxun was fine-featured and sharp of gaze. One refined and one fiery, one coarse and one delicate. They made an apt pairing.

Li Tiexin had chosen these two with deliberation. Huang Yunfei excelled in external martial arts, while Cai Nanxun’s strength lay in neigong.¹³ Fighting in concert, they could achieve a balance of hard and soft. Moreover, both had trained under the same shifu and were proficient in the techniques of acupoint-sealing and breath-sealing, which might afford some measure of protection against the invading poison.

Yet fearing they might be careless, Li Tiexin gave explicit instructions. “The two of you shall enter using the breath-sealing method our shifu taught you. You need only lift the sedan curtain, then withdraw at once.”

“Understood!” they replied in unison. ach reached up and drew a long bronze sword into his hand. The blades radiated a chill that bit at the skin.

Footnotes

1. 掌门 – zhǎngmén. The head or leader of a martial arts faction. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

2. 青堂 – Qīng Táng. The Azure Hall. One of the four senior divisions of Yueyang School. ↩

3. 香堂 – Xiāng Táng. The Fragrance Hall. One of the four senior divisions of Yueyang School. ↩

4. 云堂 – Yún Táng. The Cloud Hall. One of the four senior divisions of Yueyang School. ↩

5. 采堂 – Cǎi Táng. The Splendour Hall. One of the four senior divisions of Yueyang School. ↩

6. 彭万麟 – Péng Wànlín. His name meaning “Ten Thousand Qilin,” the qilin being the mythical Chinese unicorn-beast, a symbol of auspiciousness and power. ↩

7. 火刺猬 – Huǒ Cìwei. Literally fire hedgehog. Peng Wanlin’s sobriquet, derived from his perpetually ruddy complexion, suggesting a prickly and fiery temperament. ↩

8. 武林 – wǔlín. The martial arts community; the world of martial arts practitioners. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

9. 是可忍，孰不可忍 – shì kě rěn, shú bù kě rěn. Famous Confucian proverb from Analects, 3.1. An expression of absolute moral outrage at an intolerable transgression. See Wikipedia. ↩

10. 抱拳 – bàoquán. Literally embraced fist. Left palm over right fist used in the jianghu to show respect. ↩

11. 黄云飞 – Huáng Yúnfēi. His name meaning “Clouds Flying”. ↩

12. 蔡南勋 – Cài Nánxūn. His name meaning “Southern Honour” or “Southern Merit”. ↩

13. 内功 – nèigōng. Internal cultivation or internal martial arts, the practice of developing neili through breathing techniques, meditation, and energy cultivation. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩