Gan Nineteenth Sister Chapter 7

VII

Yin Jianping’s¹ unease had been, as the saying goes, a premonition of the heart—a stirring of instinct that was by no means without cause. For no sooner had the two of them vanished into the distance than a pinprick of lamplight flickered into being upon the ridge road ahead.

A small sedan chair advanced up the ridge, attended by two blue-clad bearers and the crimson-robed retainer Ruan Xing.²

The mountain wind howled through ten thousand swaying trees, and amid the rustle and sigh of the undergrowth, the sedan chair crested the ridge and came to an abrupt halt.

The young woman within the chair was Gan Shijiu Mei,³ and she was possessed of an extraordinary beauty. As was her custom, a veil of gossamer silk covered her face. Through the glazed-glass lantern⁴ that hung before the chair, one could just discern, half-hidden behind that diaphanous screen, the contours of a face of surpassing loveliness. Her luminous eyes shone always with a keen and piercing light, and she seemed always, unfailingly, composed.

Composure and ruthlessness are but two faces of a single coin, and so, though she was beautiful as a celestial maiden, hers was the cold and frosted kind of beauty.

The sedan chair had stopped at her command.

The mountain wind moaned through the darkness, setting the long crimson coat of the red-clad retainer snapping and billowing like a banner. This party of four souls and one sedan chair had materialised upon the ridge without the faintest trace of sound or sign—like phantoms drifting out of the deep watches of the night. The glazed-glass lantern that hung before the chair cast a faint, blue-tinged glow, eerily reminiscent of a will-o’-the-wisp wandering above some desolate grave. The sight of it was enough to send a chill through the marrow of one’s bones.

The young woman within the chair widened her luminous eyes and gazed outward in silence, observing. She tapped her foot twice, lightly, and the sedan was lowered to the ground.

Ruan Xing stepped forward and bowed. “Has the young mistress discovered something?”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a slight nod. “What do you see?”

Ruan Xing turned and surveyed the scene before them.

The Double Crane Hall⁵ rose tall and imposing ahead, flanked at its gates by a dense press of dark trees. The edifice cut a striking figure against the night.

Between them and the hall, the distance appeared to be no more than some three hundred feet.

Ruan Xing studied it for a moment, then said with a puzzled air, “Does the young mistress mean to say this is not the Double Crane Hall? That we have taken a wrong turning?”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “The twin cranes rise high before us—how could it not be the Double Crane Hall? And the road is not wrong. But something is amiss.”

Ruan Xing started.

His reverence for this young woman bordered on the devotional. If she perceived something amiss, then assuredly something was.

“What has the young mistress observed?”

“Chief Ruan, does nothing strike you as strange?”

“Strange?” Ruan Xing was taken aback. A sheepish smile crossed his face. “I confess I have noticed nothing untoward. Would the young mistress be good enough to enlighten me?”

Gan Shijiu Mei stepped from the sedan chair and fixed her gaze ahead for a long moment. A cold, thin smile played upon her lips. “Look again. How far is it to the Double Crane Hall?”

Ruan Xing gauged the distance. “Three hundred feet at most.”

Gan Shijiu Mei turned and resumed her seat. “Carry on,” she commanded.

The sedan chair rose upon the shoulders of the two blue-clad bearers and advanced once more.

They had gone perhaps a hundred feet when Gan Shijiu Mei said softly, “Stop.”

Ruan Xing blinked. “Why does the young mistress stop again?”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “Look again. How far now?”

Ruan Xing listened to her words and scrutinised the way ahead with care. The distance between them and the Double Crane Hall appeared to be precisely the same as before. A shock ran through him.

“How can this be?”

Gan Shijiu Mei stepped out and gave a cold, quiet laugh. “It seems we underestimated that old Daoist.”

“Does the young mistress mean there is some trickery afoot? What devilment could the old Daoist possibly manage?”

Gan Shijiu Mei raised both hands and drew aside the gossamer veil from her face, turning her luminous, dark eyes to survey every quarter of their surroundings.

After a moment, she let out a soft sigh. Ruan Xing said, “Has the young mistress seen something?”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “I had not thought Kanli the Ascetic⁶ would prove so well versed in the Five Elements Earth-and-Wood Method.⁷ It seems I took him too lightly.”

“The young mistress is saying—”

“A formation has been laid before us,” said Gan Shijiu Mei. “Had I not detected it in time, we might well have blundered into the heart of it.”

Ruan Xing was alarmed. “What manner of formation?”

Gan Shijiu Mei shook her head and walked three paces to one side. She paused, looked, then walked three more paces to the right, and stopped to look again.

A faint smile touched her beautiful face.

Ruan Xing said at once, “Has the young mistress worked it out?”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “I have.”

She turned and stepped back into the sedan. The two bearers lifted the chair once more. Gan Shijiu Mei said, “Ruan Xing, fall in behind the sedan. Follow the chair’s path, and you will come to no harm.”

Ruan Xing acknowledged the command. “Understood.”

The sedan chair set off again.

After six or seven paces, Gan Shijiu Mei said softly, “Stop. Turn right.”

The lead bearer answered and turned as bidden.

But at once he froze, too terrified to move.

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “Why have you stopped?”

The bearer said, “Begging the young mistress’s pardon—there is no way forward.”

A bank of mountain mist had risen before them, swallowing the road ahead. Through shifting rifts in the fog, the wind revealed nothing but a sheer, plunging precipice. Had the sedan not halted, another thirty feet would have carried them over the edge. Small wonder the bearer dared go no further.

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a cold laugh. “Ruan Xing, give him the lantern. Press on.”

The lantern passed to the lead bearer’s hand, and the sedan chair continued forward.

The bearer, judging the path before him, was convinced that his next step would plunge them all into the abyss. His terror was so absolute that the very soul seemed to have fled his body.

Yet Gan Shijiu Mei’s command was not to be defied. His knees trembled without ceasing.

From within the sedan, Gan Shijiu Mei gave a quiet laugh. “Useless wretch. What is there to fear? If the chair goes over, you will hardly die alone.”

The bearer’s jaw chattered. “B-begging the young mistress’s pardon! The cliff edge is right before us. One more step and—and we fall.”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a soft hum of displeasure, then laughed. “Then let us fall.”

The lead bearer answered weakly, his whole frame shaking ever more violently. He could not bring himself to take a single step. Gan Shijiu Mei sighed, though her voice held no reproach. “If you are so frightened, why not simply close your eyes? Walk ten paces more, and I expect you will see the difference.”

The bearer, trembling, did as he was told. He shut his eyes tight and pressed forward, certain in his heart that he need not go ten paces—two more steps, surely, and they would all plummet to their doom, the chair and all its passengers dashed beyond salvation. Yet to his astonishment, ten paces came and went without the slightest jolt or fall. He opened his eyes, and his heart surged with relief.

The scene before him had changed utterly. Gone was the precipice, gone the shattered ridge. It was as though he had crossed into another world entirely. Through a dense stand of sombre, ancient trees, the venerable mass of the Double Crane Hall loomed before them, close enough almost to touch—less than a hundred feet distant.

The bearer’s spirits soared, and he broke into a long stride. But Gan Shijiu Mei called out, “That will do. Stop here.”

Ruan Xing moved to the front and received the lantern from the bearer’s hand. Gan Shijiu Mei had already stepped from the chair.

Ruan Xing threw his head back and laughed. “Who would have thought the old man had it in him—conjuring tricks and ghost-candles! If the young mistress had not seen through it, we would have walked straight into his trap. Let me go in at once and take his miserable head.”

“Not so fast.” Gan Shijiu Mei’s smile was cold. “If you go charging in blindly, I may not be able to pull you out again.”

Ruan Xing started. “You mean there is more?”

Gan Shijiu Mei nodded slowly. “If it were merely this, it would scarcely deserve the name of subtlety. There is far more to it than meets the eye.”

She was, indeed, a product of a distinguished school—well-tutored and widely experienced. In that very instant her shrewd eyes flickered, and alarm flashed across her lovely face. “That was close!” she breathed.

Ruan Xing was startled. “What is it?”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “That first illusion—it was fortunate I detected it early. Had we continued along the original path, we would by now be trapped within a formation designed upon the principle of mutual generation and overcoming.⁸ Once triggered, it might not have held us fast, but it would have turned the advantage against us—as the proverb has it, holding the Tai’e by the blade.⁹ After that, getting in and out freely would have cost us dearly.”

Ruan Xing said, “What formation could be so formidable?”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a cold laugh. “Four Bright and Four Dark, entry and exit—it appears to be that kind of formation.” She paused. Ruan Xing thought for a moment. “I have never heard of such a formation by name.”

Gan Shijiu Mei shook her head again. “I suspect the situation is more complex even than that. Ruan Xing, give me the lantern.”

Ruan Xing blinked, then passed her the glazed-glass lantern. Gan Shijiu Mei took it in hand, studied the surroundings briefly, and set off.

From where Ruan Xing stood, he watched Gan Shijiu Mei’s lantern-bearing silhouette advance and retreat, now veering left, now veering right, until she had traced a full circuit and then doubled back toward him.

Ruan Xing said in astonishment, “Has the young mistress discerned its nature?”

“The Eight Wood Shifting-Image Formation,”¹⁰ said Gan Shijiu Mei. “Four Bright and Four Dark. This does not resemble anything in the Double Crane Hall’s repertoire. I have heard of this formation.” A cold smile crossed her lips. “It seems we have encountered a formidable adversary. I should like to see just how formidable. Ruan Xing, follow me.”

Ruan Xing answered and gripped his bamboo staff crosswise before him.

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “This person’s Eight Wood Shifting-Image draws its power from the terrain itself—specifically, from the maple grove before us. It operates on the principle of doubling: four becomes eight by pairing, and odd numbers mark the safe path.”

Her knowledge, it seemed, encompassed all things. Her mastery of the Five Elements and the arts of earth and wood ran to a profound depth. She raised the glazed-glass lantern high, and by its light, a row of trees materialised along their left flank.

Ruan Xing exclaimed, “How strange! There were no trees here a moment ago. How have they suddenly appeared?”

Gan Shijiu Mei smiled faintly. “That is the art of the Eight Wood Shifting-Image. The real is rendered illusory, and within the illusion, something real abides.” As she spoke, she raised the lantern higher still and advanced one step. Ruan Xing hastened to follow.

In the same instant, that row of trees seemed to transform into hundreds upon hundreds of rolling logs, thundering down upon their heads. Ruan Xing leapt back in alarm, about to spring clear. Gan Shijiu Mei snapped, “Do not move!”

Before the words had left her lips, she was already airborne. Her palm shot out and struck the third tree in the row she had marked earlier.

The technique was nothing short of masterful—swift and unerring both. In the breath before the cascading illusion reached them, her hand made contact with solid bark. And in that same instant, the phantom avalanche dissolved into nothing.

Ruan Xing watched hundreds of rolling logs bearing down upon them like the toppling of a great sea, only to vanish like storm-clouds scattered by a gale. One moment the illusion loomed; the next it was gone—swift as a flash of lightning, extinguished in the space between two heartbeats. The subtlety of it beggared the senses; none who had not witnessed it with their own eyes could have grasped a fraction of its wonder. When he looked again, even the original row of trees had disappeared. Only the single trunk Gan Shijiu Mei’s hand had touched remained—the sole real tree among them all. Cold sweat broke out across Ruan Xing’s entire body.

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a cold laugh. “This lone tree is the keystone of the entire formation. By using xu-fire to overcome yi-wood,¹¹ his formation, though it still stands in form, has been rendered powerless.”

She extended two slender fingers and drove them into the tree trunk. Where those delicate fingertips met the wood, a hole appeared in the hard surface as easily as a needle piercing silk. She inserted the lantern into the cavity, stepped back, and smiled. “Now we may proceed without fear.”

Ruan Xing looked again, and the scene had transformed. The ancient edifice of the Double Crane Hall stood no more than twenty feet before them, its twin copper doors set within a frame of grey stone. A low courtyard wall stretched away to either side. Under the frostlike wash of moonlight, all was still as death.

Ruan Xing peered about. “It is far too quiet,” he said, an edge of unease in his voice. “Can they all have gone? Or have they all retired for the night?”

Gan Shijiu Mei shook her head. “I told you before—the Double Crane Hall’s disciples have long since scattered. Only the hall’s master remains, alone.”

As she spoke, her gaze had already found a faint point of light. It issued from the elixir chamber¹² at the rear of the compound. “If I am not mistaken,” said Gan Shijiu Mei, gesturing toward the source of the glow, “Mi Ruyan¹³ will be there.”

Ruan Xing’s spirits surged. He gave a cold laugh. “Would the young mistress be so good as to wait here a moment? I shall go and take his life at once.” With that, he crouched, coiling his lean frame to spring.

“Not yet.” Gan Shijiu Mei stayed him with a word. “He is, for all his failings, the master of a school. You will invite him out first, and then we shall speak.”

Ruan Xing assented. His wiry body uncoiled, and he shot skyward in a single fluid motion, streaking upward like a wisp of smoke drawn into the heavens. When he landed, he was perched atop the low courtyard wall.

It was then that his eyes fell upon something.

A length of yellow hemp,¹⁴ tied to the branch of a tree.

In the moonlight, the tassel of hemp hung like a long, narrow pennant, stirring in the breeze. In truth, such a thing might well have gone unremarked by an ordinary man. But to those of broad experience in the wulin,¹⁵ it carried a significance that was anything but ordinary. The instant Ruan Xing caught sight of it, a jolt of alarm passed through him. He sprang toward the trees. Gan Shijiu Mei’s slender frame reached the spot at the same moment. The two of them stood beneath the tree from which the hemp tassel hung, staring at it with undisguised shock.

Ruan Xing let out a sharp exclamation, leapt forward, and untied the tassel with swift fingers. He examined it briefly, and the colour drained from his face. He turned at once and presented it to Gan Shijiu Mei. She took it and studied it for several moments. Across her fine, delicate features, a shadow of cold anger gathered.

Ruan Xing said in a voice tight with alarm, “Young mistress, do you recognise it? Is this not the token—the Yellow Hemp Command¹⁶—belonging to old Yan?”

Gan Shijiu Mei nodded. “It is.” She let out a soft sigh, and a bitter smile touched her lips. “I had not thought old Yan would choose this moment, of all moments, to meddle in affairs that do not concern him.”

“Has Yan Pengju the Yellow Hemp Guest¹⁷ come in person?”

“That I cannot say.” Her voice was cool and flat. “Old Yan’s arrogance knows no bounds. If he imagines that a single tassel of Yellow Hemp Command is enough to frighten me off, he flatters himself beyond all measure.”

Ruan Xing hesitated. “Does the young mistress intend to—”

Gan Shijiu Mei arched one slender brow. “No wonder the formation struck me as foreign to the Double Crane Hall’s traditions. So it was the work of the Yan household all along. That explains everything.”

Ever since confirming that the Yellow Hemp Guest had a hand in matters, Ruan Xing’s demeanour had shifted perceptibly. Apprehension and something very near fear were writ plainly upon his face.

“Young mistress,” he murmured, “if it truly is that old man—the young mistress must tread carefully. I recall that before we set out, the Pavilion Mistress¹⁸ made particular mention of this person and cautioned the young mistress to be on her guard.”

Gan Shijiu Mei’s laugh was cold. “I am well aware. You need not belabour the point.”

Ruan Xing retreated a step and lowered his head. “Forgive me. I only wished to remind the young mistress that this man is one who must not, under any circumstances, be provoked.”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a cold laugh. “And what would you suggest?”

Ruan Xing glanced left and right, satisfying himself that no one was near, before he spoke. “If I may, I would counsel the young mistress to let the Double Crane Hall go for now. We might do well to grant old Yan this favour and leave him in our debt.”

“And then?”

“And then—” Ruan Xing stepped closer and dropped his voice. “We strike straight for the Huai region¹⁹ and deal with old Fan first.”

Old Fan could only mean Fan Zhongxiu²⁰ of the Huai country.

Fan Zhongxiu, Mi Ruyan,¹³ and Xian Bing²¹ had in their younger days sworn a bond of brotherhood,²² and together with four others now deceased had been known as the Seven Cultivators of the Wulin.²³ These were the very men who had taken part in the siege and burning of Shui Hongshao²⁴ in the tunnels beneath Phoenix Mountain—the principal culprits, every one of them—and the first targets of Gan Shijiu Mei’s campaign of vengeance upon her descent from the mountains.

Gan Shijiu Mei made no reply.

Ruan Xing, taking her silence for assent, pressed on. “Once old Fan is dealt with, we can double back for Mi Ruyan. By then, the odds are that old Yan will have moved on.”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a thin, cold smile. “And if he has not?”

Ruan Xing faltered. “Well, that—”

Gan Shijiu Mei let out a contemptuous hum. “And if he chooses to meddle in old Fan’s affairs as well? What then?”

Ruan Xing was struck dumb. He had no answer for that.

Gan Shijiu Mei said, her voice low and cool, “Before I set out, the Pavilion Mistress¹⁸ bade me take heed of this man, true enough—but she told me only to avoid provoking him needlessly. Now that he has thrust himself into this affair of his own accord, I find myself rather curious to discover what is so extraordinary about old Yan.”

Ruan Xing started, and was about to protest, when Gan Shijiu Mei shook both hands sharply. The tassel of yellow hemp was already torn to shreds between her fingers.

“Young mistress, you must not act rashly!” Ruan Xing’s face had gone white. “Old Yan is not a man to be trifled with!”

Gan Shijiu Mei smiled faintly. “Is that so? Then I shall show him that the Gan name is less trifling still. We go in.”

Her slender frame flickered, and in a flash she stood before the door of the elixir chamber,¹² swift as a bolt of lightning streaking across the heavens. Ruan Xing knew only too well how unyielding this young woman’s temperament was; there was no turning her once her mind was set. He steeled himself and sprang after her. The two of them stood before the elixir chamber’s entrance. The door was shut fast. Through the paper window, they could just make out a dim glow of lamplight within.

Ruan Xing said, “Be on your guard, young mistress. We must not fall into one of old Yan’s traps.”

It seemed the spectre of the Yellow Hemp Guest¹⁷ had already shattered Ruan Xing’s nerve entirely.

Gan Shijiu Mei regarded him with a cold, contemptuous smile. “You think yourself the Pavilion Mistress’s most trusted retainer, yet the moment you face a true adversary, you crumble like wet clay. What a useless creature you are.”

With that, she raised one pale hand and pushed at the empty air before her. The door of the elixir chamber burst inward with a thunderous crash, flying wide open.

Kanli the Ascetic,⁶ Mi Ruyan, had been dozing upon a meditation cushion. The explosion of sound jolted him awake, and he lurched to his feet in wild alarm.

The chill wind rushed in from outside. When at last his bleary eyes focused upon the man and woman standing in the doorway, a shock of pure terror ran through him, and whatever vestiges of sleep had clung to him vanished in an instant.

“Who—” He stared at the two figures in horrified bewilderment. “Who are you?”

Gan Shijiu Mei’s limpid, dark eyes fixed upon him without blinking.

“You are Mi Ruyan, are you not? Elder Mi?”

Kanli the Ascetic shuddered involuntarily. Not only had every trace of drowsiness fled, but even the heavy fog of wine that had thickened his wits cleared to half its former potency.

“Young lady… where have you come from?”

“Does Elder Mi truly not know?” Gan Shijiu Mei advanced several unhurried steps. “I come from the Cinnabar Phoenix Pavilion²⁵ in central Yunnan.²⁶ My family name is Gan. Gan Mingzhu.²⁷ They call me Gan Shijiu Mei.”

Mi Ruyan retreated a step. His voice came out in a stammering whisper. “What… you are the one they call Gan Shijiu Mei?… Shui… Hongshao’s disciple?”

Gan Shijiu Mei inclined her head. “Just so. Shui Hongshao is my shifu.”

Terror convulsed Mi Ruyan’s features. In a flash, his hand snatched a sword from the table beside him. Gan Shijiu Mei stood utterly still, not so much as a hair stirring upon her person. The crimson-clad Ruan Xing, for his part, showed no alarm whatsoever. Four eyes bored into Mi Ruyan like gimlets. He let out a cry of panic and hurled himself through the doorway. His body had scarcely cleared the threshold when a shadow flickered before him and the crimson-clad retainer blocked his path. Mi Ruyan twisted and flung himself thirty feet to the right—the absolute limit of what his diminished powers could manage.

He landed badly. The force of his own momentum staggered him, and he very nearly pitched face-first into the earth. By the time he steadied himself, sword in hand, he found—to his horror—that the young woman called Gan Shijiu Mei had somehow materialised directly before him.

Mi Ruyan cried out in alarm, snapped his wrist, and drew his blade from the sheath in a single motion. Without a word, he lunged forward and sent the sword flashing in a silver arc toward Gan Shijiu Mei’s throat.

Against his blade, Gan Shijiu Mei’s willowy figure seemed no more substantial than a paper doll—she spun upon the spot, light as a feather in the wind. Mi Ruyan’s desperate, darting thrust met nothing but empty air.

He had once been zhangmen of the Double Crane Hall, head of a school of no small renown. Though his martial arts had long since fallen into ruin, his accumulated craft was not to be dismissed so easily. The instant his first stroke missed, Mi Ruyan planted his feet, braced his left hand beneath his right wrist, and rolled into a savage reverse thrust. The blade blazed a second streak of lightning, driving straight for Gan Shijiu Mei’s breast.

This was the Linked Twin Swords²⁸—throat-slash and breast-stab, each devastating in its own right—one of the Double Crane Hall’s proudest techniques. Two strokes fused into one seamless whole: should an opponent miraculously evade the first, there was no earthly escape from the second. Once unleashed, the two strikes flowed as a single irresistible current, quite impossible to defend against.

Old and decrepit though he was, Mi Ruyan’s execution of this favourite technique still carried a formidable edge—not to be taken lightly. What he had not reckoned upon, however, was that this Gan Shijiu Mei’s martial arts were of a subtlety beyond all his imagining. She was very nearly as quick as the sword itself.

Mi Ruyan’s blade was swift.

Gan Shijiu Mei’s hand was swifter.

The gap between them was measured in fractions of a heartbeat. Mi Ruyan himself could scarcely comprehend what had happened. He was aware only that her single hand had performed two functions at once—disarming him of his sword and striking him in the same fluid instant. A searing heat flared through his tiger’s mouth,²⁹ and the sword was no longer in his hand but in hers. At the same moment, a force unlike anything he had ever known in all his years struck him full in the chest. Mi Ruyan used the impact to hurl himself backward, and a strangled, rasping cry tore from his throat as his body shot away like an arrow from a bow. Even so, he could not arrest his momentum, and he tumbled end over end across the ground before finally coming to a halt in a sitting position. A gout of bright blood burst from his lips. A shadow passed before his eyes, and Gan Shijiu Mei stood over him once more.

Mi Ruyan staggered to his feet. The sword in Gan Shijiu Mei’s hand was levelled at the precise centre of his brow. A thread of killing cold drove straight through his skull, and Mi Ruyan’s body locked rigid as stone, unable to move so much as a finger.

“Spare—spare me…” His whole frame shook violently. “Young lady… you can see for yourself… I am a useless old man… let me go!”

A flicker of hesitation passed through Gan Shijiu Mei’s eyes. Her neili³⁰ flowed through the blade; she need not even touch the steel to his flesh—the piercing jianqi³¹ radiating from the sword alone was more than sufficient to bore through his skull and end his life in the space of a single breath. She had no fear whatsoever that Mi Ruyan might escape.

“My shifu commanded me to take your life. I am permitted no leniency.” Gan Shijiu Mei gave a thin, cold smile. “Though I confess I had not expected your skills to have fallen so low. In truth, there was no need for me to trouble myself at all—this retainer of mine could have taken your life with ease.”

Mi Ruyan trembled from head to foot. Tears and mucus streamed down his face.

“Miss Gan… have mercy… spare me… I beg you!”

Mi Ruyan had begun to weep like a child. And something in Gan Shijiu Mei softened.

The sword still pointed at his brow, the jianqi still emanating from it cold and pitiless, yet in the depths of her dark, luminous eyes, the sharp edge of killing intent had quietly dimmed.

Mi Ruyan saw this clearly. Through his streaming tears, he pressed on. “I am nothing but a broken-down old wreck… I am of no account any longer… young lady, can you really bring yourself to kill a pitiful old man? No… you cannot… because your heart is merciful…”

Gan Shijiu Mei cast the sword to the ground with a look of cold disdain. “Spare me your grovelling.”

Mi Ruyan watched the sword fall and felt the crushing weight upon his chest lift at last. He gasped for air. “Thank you, young lady… you are too kind… far too kind!”

Gan Shijiu Mei’s cool, unblinking gaze settled upon him. “Old Mi, you can stop that performance. I am not so easily deceived. I have not said I will spare your life. I merely wish to ask you a few questions first.”

The colour drained from Mi Ruyan’s face. “Young lady, whatever you wish to ask, I will tell you everything I know…”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “You are not alone here, surely. Where are the others?”

Mi Ruyan let out a heavy sigh. “They are all gone. Every last one.”

“Then it is only you?”

Gan Shijiu Mei’s keen, penetrating eyes held him fast. Under that fathomless gaze, Mi Ruyan found dissembling impossible. He could only shake his head.

“So there is someone else?”

“One disciple… he arrived only yesterday.”

“Oh?” Gan Shijiu Mei swept her sharp gaze across the surrounding darkness. “And yet I do not see him.”

At this, the crimson-clad Ruan Xing made as if to spring away and search. Gan Shijiu Mei stayed him. “There is no need. There is no other person here.”

Mi Ruyan murmured, “The young lady is so young, yet she has already mastered the art of Divine Celestial Hearing.³² I am filled with admiration.” After a brief pause, he sighed again. “My disciple has gone out… Alas! In truth, he can scarcely be called a disciple of the Double Crane Hall at all… he is blameless in all of this… young lady, I beg you, show him mercy!”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a cold laugh. “I fail to see what you mean. Explain yourself clearly. Tell me about this disciple of yours.”

Mi Ruyan said, “Yes…”

A wave of anguish swept through him. For Yin Jianping,¹ he felt a guilt beyond words. His own careless tongue might well have sealed the fate of the very young man who had come to save him. His jaw worked, but for a long time no sound emerged.

Gan Shijiu Mei frowned faintly. “Why do you not speak?”

Mi Ruyan said, “Young lady, this boy is truly innocent of any part in this affair.”

Gan Shijiu Mei’s gaze sharpened to a blade’s edge and cut toward him. Mi Ruyan flinched beneath it and retreated a step, almost without thinking.

Behind him and to his left stood the crimson-clad Ruan Xing. Beyond Ruan Xing lay a covered walkway leading to the inner sanctum.

Mi Ruyan’s mind raced. If he could somehow break free and reach the inner sanctum, there were a hundred places to hide. And beneath the gilt statue of Patriarch Lü,³³ a secret passage opened into a hidden chamber. If he could reach that passage and conceal himself within, his life would be all but assured. Even as the thought formed, his trembling body shifted one step toward the walkway.

Gan Shijiu Mei and the crimson-clad Ruan Xing—four sharp, watchful eyes—were trained upon his every movement. Gan Shijiu Mei’s gaze, in particular, shone with that unnerving, crystalline intelligence that made Mi Ruyan hesitate even as he yearned to bolt.

“Old Mi, I know what you are thinking.” As she spoke those words, Gan Shijiu Mei’s expression turned suddenly cold. “If you are entertaining thoughts of flight, you will achieve nothing but your own humiliation.”

Mi Ruyan’s heart plummeted. The crimson-clad Ruan Xing needed no instruction; he had already shifted to block the walkway entrance. Mistress and retainer, it seemed, were of one mind.

A tide of despair washed the last spark of hope from Mi Ruyan’s face.

Gan Shijiu Mei let out a soft, contemptuous hum. Her voice was as sweet as a songbird’s, yet Mi Ruyan alone could discern the boundless killing intent concealed within that delicate sound.

Ever since he had tasted the terrible power of the woman called Shui Hongshao all those years ago, he had never again dared to underestimate any woman alive. This Gan Mingzhu before him—in martial prowess and keenness of mind alike—seemed in no way inferior to Shui Hongshao in her prime. Mi Ruyan’s thoughts of escape were, for the moment, extinguished. His hollow, defeated gaze, brimming with pleading and despair, drifted to Gan Shijiu Mei’s face.

Her slender, pale hand had moved to her breast. Only now did Mi Ruyan notice a short sword hanging there.

It was a compact weapon, no more than a foot in length. Its scabbard was concealed within a snug sheath of red velvet, and since her garments were of that same crimson hue, the sword all but vanished against her person. Unless one looked very closely, it was easily overlooked. But now, as her five tapering fingers closed upon the hilt, a chill that seemed to cut through flesh and bone rolled outward from the weapon and struck Mi Ruyan like a wall of winter air.

Decrepit and debased though he was, Mi Ruyan had once been zhangmen of a school of renown. His experience was vast, and there were few branches of martial learning, however exotic, that he had not at least heard of. The instant that icy aura enveloped him, a jolt of recognition ran through his body. His gaze fell upon the short sword at her breast, and through the velvet sheath, he perceived a cold, shimmering luminescence—a faint corona of spectral fire playing about the scabbard.

He knew at once what it was.

Jianqi.³⁴ The supreme distillation of the swordsman’s art. In all honesty, though Mi Ruyan had lived a long life and once held the rank of zhangmen over a school of martial artists, though his experience was not inconsiderable and his knowledge not narrow, the phenomenon known as jianqi—this most exalted union of neigong and swordsmanship—was something he had only ever heard spoken of in whispered legend. It was said that this art represented the ultimate convergence of internal cultivation and the blade: qi channelled through the sword, the sword forged into qi.³⁵ Once perfected, the practitioner could take a man’s head from a hundred paces.

Such claims might smack of the fantastical, yet there was no denying that, even short of that legendary extreme, the ability to kill without staining the blade—to slay by means of jianqi alone—was demonstrably real. Shui Hongshao in her day, and Yan Pengju the Yellow Hemp Guest³⁶ of the northwest, were both reputed to have attained this level of mastery.

Now Mi Ruyan could be in no doubt that Gan Shijiu Mei—Gan Mingzhu—possessed this same power. In truth, he ought to have recognised it sooner: when she had held his own sword to his brow moments before, he had already felt the bone-deep chill of jianqi pressing against his skull. He simply had not grasped the full, terrible significance until now.

Through the velvet sheath, that invisible, freezing force radiated outward like an unseen dome, enclosing Mi Ruyan from crown to sole. Beyond the cold, he felt a sensation of utter constriction, as though shackled by chains he could not see. Only now did he abandon all hope of flight, truly and completely.

“Old Mi, speak.” Gan Shijiu Mei’s hand remained upon the hilt. At the first sign of danger, she need only draw the blade, and that pitiless jianqi would end his life in the time it took to snap one’s fingers.

Mi Ruyan, his face the colour of old wax, waved his hands feebly. “Young lady, have mercy… I will tell you… I will tell you everything…”

Gan Shijiu Mei nodded. “You have no choice. Now then—this disciple. What is his name?”

Mi Ruyan hesitated. His mind groped for a false name, but under the weight of Gan Shijiu Mei’s fathomless gaze, he found he had not even the courage to lie. He simply could not invent one.

“Well?” Gan Shijiu Mei’s voice was sharp as a blade’s edge. “You still refuse to speak the truth?”

Mi Ruyan gave a start, as though waking from a dream. “I will tell you, I will tell you—his name is Yin Jianping.”

His jaw was stiff, his voice quaking, so that the surname Yin came out sounding like Yi.³⁷

“Yi Jianping?” Gan Shijiu Mei repeated.

Mi Ruyan nodded frantically. He was so consumed by guilt—knowing that his carelessness might doom an innocent young man—that he was in no state to attend to the niceties of pronunciation. Tears coursed down his weathered cheeks, and he nodded again and again, sobbing aloud.

Gan Shijiu Mei had no reason to doubt that the name was genuine. She murmured it softly to herself: “Yi Jianping. Yi Jianping.”

Mi Ruyan looked at her beseechingly. “Young lady… he is innocent. You must spare him.”

Gan Shijiu Mei said coolly, “That is for me to judge. Tell me—how, precisely, is he innocent?”

Mi Ruyan wiped his streaming eyes and sighed. “He… in truth, he is not a direct disciple of the Double Crane Hall… nor is he a disciple of the Yueyang Gate…³⁸ In fact, he cannot properly be called the disciple of any school at all…”

The crimson-clad Ruan Xing could restrain himself no longer. He gave a cold snort. “Why waste your breath on this wretch, young mistress? One stroke and be done with it.”

Gan Shijiu Mei flicked a glance at him. Ruan Xing read the rebuke in it clearly enough and held his tongue.

Her gaze returned to Mi Ruyan, and her expression softened perceptibly.

“Oh?” She arched one slender brow. “This man surnamed Yi—he has some connection to the Yueyang Gate as well?”

The words struck Mi Ruyan like a hammer blow to the chest. His face changed at once. Only then did he realise that he had said too much.

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “What is the nature of his connection to the Yueyang Gate?”

“It… it is like this.” Mi Ruyan’s voice was barely audible. “The reason he went to the Yueyang Gate to study was… because I recommended him.”

Gan Shijiu Mei nodded slowly. “I see. So this man surnamed Yi first studied under you, and then you sent him to the Yueyang Gate. Is that not so?”

“That is so… that is exactly how it was.”

“And why would you do such a thing?”

“Because his… his skills were not up to the mark.”

“I think not.” Gan Shijiu Mei’s expression turned cold, and she cut him off. “You would hardly recommend an incompetent disciple to the Yueyang Gate.”

“Yes…” Mi Ruyan could only nod. “He is not without talent…”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a smile. “Then he must be a most outstanding disciple indeed?”

The smile graced her face, but her voice carried an undertone of killing frost. Mi Ruyan found he could not meet her eyes. Hearing her words, he felt the full force of her terrible acuity—there was no hope of deceiving this young woman. He let out a sigh and could only nod. “You are right. He is an exceptional disciple…”

Gan Shijiu Mei said coldly, “You said just now that he cannot properly be called a disciple of the Double Crane Hall or the Yueyang Gate.³⁸ What did you mean by that?”

“Because…” Mi Ruyan said, “because this young man did not come as a formal disciple seeking initiation. He came solely to learn.”

“How novel.”

Gan Shijiu Mei lowered herself into a high-backed chair with an air of unhurried composure. Let no one imagine this afforded Mi Ruyan any relief—her hand still rested upon the hilt of her short sword, and the invisible pall of jianqi³¹ hung as cold and oppressive as ever. Mi Ruyan felt not a whit less constrained.

Gan Shijiu Mei continued. “I take your meaning. You are saying that this Yi Jianping sought you out for the sole purpose of studying the martial arts of the Double Crane Hall and the Yueyang Gate?”

Mi Ruyan said, “Just so. That is exactly it.”

Gan Shijiu Mei tilted her head slightly upward. Intelligence and shrewdness shone from her lovely face as she pressed the question home. “Then he must not have come to you and your school alone. He has studied elsewhere as well, has he not?”

“That… I could not say for certain…”

“Hmph.” Gan Shijiu Mei fixed him with her gaze. “You expect me to believe you would accept a disciple of unknown provenance? Where did he come from? Who sent him to you?”

“It was… it was the Cold Zither Recluse.”³⁹

Gan Shijiu Mei’s eyes brightened. She gave a slight nod. “Now we come to it. You mean the Cold Zither Recluse of the Cold Zither Pavilion on South Putuo Mountain?”⁴⁰

Mi Ruyan had abandoned all pretence of shielding Yin Jianping. He nodded wearily. “The very same… it was he who recommended the boy.”

“Then this man surnamed Yi must have been held in the highest regard by the Cold Zither Recluse, and in all likelihood has already mastered the full breadth of the Recluse’s abilities?” Her voice had turned bitterly cold, revealing that she had been compelled, however reluctantly, to regard this young man she had never met as a serious threat.

Mi Ruyan sighed again. A pained smile crossed his lips. “I imagine so.”

Gan Shijiu Mei nodded. “The Cold Zither Recluse is renowned throughout the wulin for his Spring and Autumn Righteous Qi⁴¹ and his Six Shadowing Techniques.⁴² The Yueyang Gate is known for its Blood Shroud.⁴³ And as for your Double Crane Hall’s—”

She broke off. In that instant, her mind had leapt to the ancestral hall at the rear of the Yueyang Gate, and to the Sheng brothers⁴⁴ who had died there so gruesomely. The fatal wound on one of them had borne the unmistakable hallmark of the Double Crane Hall’s supreme and closely guarded technique: the Diamond Iron Wrist.⁴⁵ Understanding blazed through her like a shaft of light. At last she knew the true identity of the Sheng brothers’ killer. A nameless fury kindled in her breast.

Since descending from the mountains on her shifu’s command, Gan Shijiu Mei had swept all before her. Not once had she encountered any true impediment—save for that single, galling occasion when the Sheng brothers had been slain under her very nose. For her, the incident was nothing less than a burning humiliation. And now, at last, she knew who had done it.

The name turned over and over in her mind. She regarded Mi Ruyan with a cold, level gaze. “So you taught him your Diamond Iron Wrist as well?”

Mi Ruyan let out a heavy sigh but made no answer. Ruan Xing² spoke up sharply. “Young mistress, do not forget the Sheng brothers!”

Gan Shijiu Mei cut in, her voice like a blade drawn across ice. “I have not forgotten.”

She turned back to Mi Ruyan. “Old Mi, I wonder if you are aware that this disciple of yours, this man surnamed Yi, killed two of my retainers. One of them fell to none other than the Diamond Iron Wrist—that closely guarded secret of your Double Crane Hall.”

Only now did Mi Ruyan catch it: Gan Shijiu Mei had been saying “Yi” all along, not “Yin.” He would certainly not correct her.

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a thin smile. “So when you told me a moment ago that this man surnamed Yi was wholly innocent, that claim, I am afraid, does not hold.”

Mi Ruyan said, “Young lady… have you seen him?”

“I have not,” said Gan Shijiu Mei. “But the evidence speaks for itself. Once the facts are laid side by side, it can be no one else.”

The crimson-clad Ruan Xing spoke loudly. “Old man, where has this Yi gone?”

Mi Ruyan murmured, “He went out… with young Master Yan…”

Even as the words left his lips, a tremor of anxiety passed through him. He dreaded that Yin Jianping might return at any moment, and his gaze drifted involuntarily toward the window. These reactions were entirely unguarded—there was no artifice in them whatsoever.

Gan Shijiu Mei, observing him from the corner of her eye, judged that everything he had told her was the truth. She asked, “Do you mean Yan Chunlei⁴⁶ has come?”

“Yes!” Mi Ruyan seized upon the name like a drowning man clutching at a rope. “Old Yan of Shaanxi—the Yellow Hemp Guest—he and I are the closest of friends. He foresaw that I would face this calamity and sent his son Yan Chunlei to protect me.”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a cold laugh. “Yet despite his coming, he arrived too late and failed to save you. That is something neither he nor you had reckoned upon. Am I wrong?”

Mi Ruyan was struck dumb. Then the hidden menace in her words registered, and a shock of cold terror ran through him. “Young lady, what… what do you mean by that?”

Gan Shijiu Mei let out a soft sigh. “Mi Ruyan, I had been inclined to spare your life. But your tongue has been altogether too honest. If I let you go now, it will seem as though I am afraid of Yan Chunlei. And so, I am afraid, I must kill you after all.”

Mi Ruyan’s face twisted in horror. He burst into racking sobs.

“Have mercy! Have mercy!”

Then, all at once, he felt the invisible dome of jianqi that had bound him dissolve and vanish. This was the chance of a lifetime—now or never.

Still crying out, he whirled and hurled himself toward the window. In the same instant, the crimson-clad Ruan Xing sprang upon him with a furious snarl. The bamboo staff in his hand whipped downward in a single, whistling arc and struck Mi Ruyan squarely upon the crown of his skull. Bone splintered. Mi Ruyan’s body swayed once, then crumpled into a spreading pool of blood.

Gan Shijiu Mei had plainly not anticipated this. In the fraction of a heartbeat before Ruan Xing’s blow fell, she had been visibly on the point of crying out to stop him. But her voice had not come quickly enough, and the bamboo staff had fallen first. She stood gazing down at Mi Ruyan’s body in its widening lake of red, and a sigh of genuine regret escaped her lips.

“You fool.” Her reproachful eyes bored into Ruan Xing. “You… that was beyond stupid.”

Ruan Xing blinked. “Did the young mistress not see? He was trying to escape through the window.”

Gan Shijiu Mei said coldly, “Of course I saw. I let him go deliberately.”

“Deliberately… why?”

“Idiot.” Gan Shijiu Mei shook her head in helpless vexation. “Even if he had made it through the window, could he have escaped me? You acted far too hastily.”

Ruan Xing flushed scarlet. “I did not understand the young mistress’s intention.”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “I meant to let the wretched state of him lure that man surnamed Yi out of hiding, so that I might deal with both in a single stroke. Now that you have done this, finding him will be far more difficult.”

Ruan Xing faltered, his face stricken. “The young mistress should have used the Whispered Command⁴⁷ to tell me.”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a small, exasperated sound. “What is more, this Mi Ruyan was so feeble and decrepit that there was no need to guard against him at all, let alone kill him. Word of this will spread, and the wulin will hold us in contempt. Worse still, it binds us into a blood debt with Yan Pengju¹⁷ of Shaanxi—one we could well have done without.”

Ruan Xing was stricken anew. He stammered, “But, young mistress—it was you who said you would kill him.”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a cold laugh. “I was merely saying it.”

She let out a rueful sigh and turned to leave. The two of them had barely stepped beyond the threshold of the elixir chamber when a sudden darkness seemed to fall before their eyes, accompanied by a lurching, spinning sensation.

Gan Shijiu Mei hissed, “Something is wrong!”

Her right palm shot out and struck Ruan Xing’s shoulder. “Back!” she snapped.

The two of them sprang backward in unison. Carried by the momentum of Gan Shijiu Mei’s palm, they alighted twenty feet away, landing once more before the door of the elixir chamber.

Ruan Xing was bewildered. “What has the young mistress found?”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “Quiet.”

Her dark, lustrous eyes swept the surroundings. A shadow of gravity settled upon her lovely face. She gave a cold, quiet laugh and said in a low voice, “Someone has come.”

Ruan Xing’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

Gan Shijiu Mei’s limpid gaze searched the darkness around them. She shook her head. “I cannot yet tell. But the lantern—the one that anchored the entire formation—has been extinguished.”

At this reminder, Ruan Xing recalled the lantern she had driven into the keystone tree. He looked, and indeed, the faint red glow that had marked the spot was gone.

Gan Shijiu Mei surveyed the surroundings with deliberate care. “The formation was already half-broken when we came through,” she said, her voice low and cool. “What remained posed no real danger, only inconvenience. That is why I set the lantern there—using xu-fire to overcome yi-wood. It seems our hidden friend has seen through the principle.”

Ruan Xing’s narrow, triangular eyes swept the darkness. “Where is he now?”

Gan Shijiu Mei shook her head, though her voice held certainty. “He is somewhere close by. He is clever. He means to let us exhaust ourselves contending with the formation before he shows himself.”

After a brief pause, she turned to Ruan Xing. “Can you make out the formation’s logic?”

Ruan Xing studied the darkness around them and nodded. “The young mistress explained it on the way in. The Eight Wood Shifting-Image Formation, is it not? Four becomes eight by doubling; odd numbers mark the safe path.”

Gan Shijiu Mei nodded. “Good. Keep that fixed in your mind. Remember: every transformation is governed by even numbers; odd numbers are auspicious. We go in now.”

Ruan Xing said, “One moment, young mistress… I am still not entirely clear.”

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “Have you a fire striker on you?”

Ruan Xing nodded. “I have.”

He drew out a fire striker and, with a sharp click, struck it alight. The tiny flame fluttered in the wind. Gan Shijiu Mei gave a faint smile. “Then there is nothing to fear. Follow me.”

She set off at a brisk pace. Ruan Xing held the fire striker high and followed close upon her heels. Gan Shijiu Mei strode forward without hesitation until they had passed through the rear courtyard and reached a pair of covered walkways leading to the front compound. There she stopped. Everywhere they had passed, aside from the flame in Ruan Xing’s upraised hand, not a glimmer of light was to be seen. All around them lay impenetrable darkness.

Ruan Xing peered into the gloom. “Black as pitch,” he muttered.

But Gan Shijiu Mei’s gaze had been drawn to something nearby: a dense stand of tall bamboo, a hundred or more canes growing so close together that they formed an unbroken wall. The night wind set them swaying, and they creaked and groaned in eerie chorus. Their shifting shadows fell in a lattice of dark spears, lending the scene an air of deepening menace.

After a long, intent study, Gan Shijiu Mei nodded with the air of one who has confirmed a suspicion. “The enemy’s secret lies there.”

For all his formidable martial skill, Ruan Xing was quite at sea amid the subtleties of formation craft. He held his tongue and studied the darkness, still as a cicada in winter. Gan Shijiu Mei glanced at him and smiled faintly. “What—are you afraid?”

Ruan Xing drew himself up and set his jaw in a show of defiance.

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “If you still have any courage left, go and flush the rabbit out for me.”

“The young mistress has found him?”

Gan Shijiu Mei gave a soft hush and jutted her chin toward the bamboo. “There. Go.”

Ruan Xing studied the grove for a moment but said nothing.

Gan Shijiu Mei said, “You need not be afraid. The formation is potent, true enough, but the fire striker in your hand is your talisman.”

Ruan Xing steeled himself and nodded. “Understood.”

The word had scarcely left his lips before his wiry frame shot skyward. Three or four soaring leaps carried him to the edge of the bamboo grove. In the very instant he was about to plunge in, a gust of icy wind burst from among the canes. Ruan Xing’s nerves were already strung taut; at the first hint of something amiss, he planted his feet and halted dead. Before he could call out a challenge, a figure came hurtling toward him out of the darkness, swift as a bolt of lightning.

Ruan Xing threw himself into a rolling dodge to the left. He caught a fleeting impression of a tall, lean man of scholarly bearing—and in the same breath felt the overwhelming press of the stranger’s palm technique engulfing him.

The newcomer’s skill was extraordinary. He struck without preamble the instant he appeared, unleashing a ferocious offensive that left Ruan Xing scrambling to respond. Ruan Xing cried out in alarm and twisted away. But the man had done no more than throw out a feint—his true intent was misdirection pure and simple.

In the very moment Ruan Xing took him for a practitioner of some crushing, force-driven palm style,⁴⁸ the stranger’s hand executed a deft, sinuous reversal⁴⁹—dropping low, then sweeping upward in a single fluid motion—and alighted upon the wrist of Ruan Xing’s right hand: the hand that held the fire striker.

Ruan Xing’s heart clenched. Only now did he grasp the stranger’s true objective. In a flash of desperate reflex, he flipped his right hand and drove the tip of his bamboo staff at the man’s face. But in matters of close-quarters exchange, he was already a fraction too slow. The stranger’s grip was astonishingly powerful. In the time it took Ruan Xing to raise his staff, the man had already completed the theft—the fire striker was plucked from his fingers as cleanly as a conjurer’s trick.

Footnotes

1. 尹剑平 – Yǐn Jiànpíng. See earlier note. ↩ ↩²

2. 阮行 – Ruǎn Xíng. See earlier note. ↩ ↩²

3. 甘十九妹 – Gān Shíjiǔ Mèi. See earlier note. ↩

4. 琉璃灯 – liúlí dēng. Literally glazed-glass lantern. A lantern made of coloured glass or ceramic glaze, prized for its translucent glow. Glazed-glass lanterns were luxury items associated with wealth and refinement. ↩

5. 双鹤堂 – Shuānghè Táng. See earlier note. ↩

6. 坎离上人 – Kǎnlí Shàngrén. See earlier note. ↩ ↩²

7. 五行土木之法 – wǔxíng tǔmù zhī fǎ. Literally five elements earth-and-wood method. A branch of arcane knowledge rooted in the Five Elements theory (metal, wood, water, fire, earth), dealing with the manipulation of terrain, vegetation, and natural features to create illusions and formations. See Wikipedia. ↩

8. 生克 – shēngkè. Literally generation and overcoming. A core concept of Five Elements theory in which the five elements (wood, fire, earth, metal, water) both produce and destroy one another in fixed cycles, forming the philosophical basis for formations, medicine, and divination in Chinese tradition. ↩

9. 太阿倒持 – tài’ē dàochí. Literally holding the Tai’e sword by the blade. An ancient idiom meaning to place oneself at a fatal disadvantage by surrendering control to another. The Tai’e was a legendary sword forged by the master smiths Ou Yezi and Gan Jiang. ↩

10. 八木易象阵 – bāmù yìxiàng zhèn. Literally eight wood shifting-image formation. A formation that exploits the natural arrangement of trees and vegetation to create shifting illusions, derived from the principles of the Eight Trigrams and Five Elements. The formation uses groups of eight trees, alternating between real and illusory configurations, to disorient intruders. ↩

11. 以戌火而破乙木 – yǐ xūhuǒ ér pò yǐmù. A technical application of the Five Elements cycle. Xu (戌) corresponds to fire in the Earthly Branches system; yi (乙) corresponds to wood in the Heavenly Stems. Since fire overcomes wood in the Five Elements cycle, channelling xu-fire energy into the yi-wood keystone disrupts the entire formation. ↩

12. 丹房 – dānfáng. Literally elixir chamber. An alchemical workshop used for the preparation of medicinal elixirs and the cultivation of internal arts. In Daoist practice, the elixir chamber served as a place of both spiritual and physical refinement. ↩ ↩²

13. 米如烟 – Mǐ Rúyān. See earlier note. ↩ ↩²

14. 黄麻 – huángmá. Literally yellow hemp. A type of jute fibre used in rope-making, here serving as a marker or token associated with the martial artist Yan Pengju the Yellow Hemp Guest. ↩

15. 武林 – wǔlín. Literally martial forest. The broader community of martial artists and their collective traditions. See Wuxia Wiki. ↩

16. 黄麻令 – huángmá lìng. Literally yellow hemp command. A token of authority carried or left by Yan Pengju the Yellow Hemp Guest, whose presence serves as both a calling card and a warning to those who would recognise it. ↩

17. 晏鹏举 – Yàn Péngjǔ. His name meaning “Roc in Flight”. A formidable and reclusive figure of the older generation, known by his epithet the Yellow Hemp Guest for his distinctive affinity for yellow hemp in his clothing, accessories, and tokens of authority. ↩ ↩² ↩³

18. 轩主 – xuānzhǔ. Literally pavilion mistress. The formal title of Shui Hongshao the Cinnabar Phoenix as head of her faction. The retainers of her household address her either as the Matriarch (主母) or the Pavilion Mistress, depending on context. ↩ ↩²

19. 淮上 – Huáishàng. See earlier note. ↩

20. 樊钟秀 – Fán Zhōngxiù. See earlier note. ↩

21. 冼冰 – Xiǎn Bīng. See earlier note. ↩

22. 义结金兰 – yìjié jīnlán. Literally bound in righteousness through golden orchids. A solemn oath of sworn brotherhood, the most binding of all jianghu bonds, in which unrelated men pledge to one another as though they were brothers by blood. ↩

23. 武林七修 – wǔlín qīxiū. See earlier note. ↩

24. 水红芍 – Shuǐ Hóngshāo. See earlier note. ↩

25. 丹凤轩 – Dānfèng Xuān. Literally Cinnabar Phoenix Pavilion. The stronghold and faction of Shui Hongshao the Cinnabar Phoenix, located in central Yunnan Province. Its retainers address Shui Hongshao as the Pavilion Mistress (轩主). ↩

26. 滇中 – Diānzhōng. Literally central Yunnan. Dian is the ancient name for modern Yunnan Province in southwestern China. See Wikipedia. ↩

27. 甘明珠 – Gān Míngzhū. Her name meaning “Bright Pearl”. Gan Shijiu Mei’s given name, revealed here for the first time. Gan Shijiu Mei (甘十九妹) is the name by which she is known in the jianghu. ↩

28. 连手双剑 – liánshǒu shuāngjiàn. Literally linked twin swords. A signature swordplay technique of the Double Crane Hall, in which two successive strikes—a horizontal slash at the throat and a reverse stab at the chest—are executed as an inseparable unit. The technique’s power lies in its seamless continuity: the first strike creates the opening that the second exploits. ↩

29. 虎口 – hǔkǒu. Literally tiger’s mouth. The web of flesh between the thumb and forefinger. In swordsmanship, a blow to the tiger’s mouth forces the hand open and disarms the wielder. ↩

30. 内力 – nèilì. See earlier note. ↩

31. 剑气 – jiànqì. See earlier note. ↩ ↩²

32. 天耳神听 – tiān’ěr shéntīng. Literally divine celestial hearing. An advanced neigong technique that extends the practitioner’s hearing to an extraordinary range, allowing them to detect the faintest sounds—breathing, heartbeats, even the rustle of clothing—far beyond normal human perception. ↩

33. 吕祖 – Lǚ Zǔ. Literally Patriarch Lü. Lü Dongbin, the most celebrated of the Eight Immortals of Daoist legend and patron saint of internal alchemy. His gilt statues are found in Daoist temples and cultivation halls throughout China. See Wikipedia. ↩

34. 剑气 – jiànqì. See earlier note. Here the term is used in its fullest sense: an invisible emanation of lethal force projected through the blade by means of supreme neigong, capable of killing without the steel ever touching the victim’s body. ↩

35. 以气卸剑，以剑成炁 – yǐ qì xiè jiàn, yǐ jiàn chéng qì. Literally channelling qi through the sword, forging the sword into qi. The foundational principle of jianqi mastery, describing the complete fusion of internal cultivation and swordsmanship. The archaic character 炁 (qì) is used in place of the standard 气 to denote qi in its most refined, cultivated form. ↩

36. 晏鹏举 – Yàn Péngjǔ. See earlier note. ↩

37. Mi Ruyan’s terror causes him to slur the name. The surname 尹 (Yǐn) is mispronounced as 依 (Yī), the nasal final swallowed by his chattering teeth. This seemingly trivial error will prove significant: Gan Shijiu Mei accepts the name as she hears it. ↩

38. 岳阳门 – Yuèyáng Mén. See earlier note. ↩ ↩²

39. 冷琴居士 – Lěngqín Jūshì. See earlier note. ↩

40. 南普陀山 – Nán Pǔtuó Shān. See earlier note. ↩

41. 春秋正气 – chūnqiū zhèngqì. See earlier note. ↩

42. 六随身法 – liù suí shēnfǎ. Literally six shadowing techniques. A set of six versatile body methods taught by the Cold Zither Recluse, encompassing evasion, pursuit, and close-quarters adaptation. ↩

43. 血罩 – xuèzhào. See earlier note. ↩

44. The Sheng brothers, retainers of Gan Shijiu Mei dispatched to the Yueyang Gate, who were found murdered in the ancestral hall. See earlier note. ↩

45. 金刚铁腕 – jīngāng tiěwàn. See earlier note. ↩

46. 晏春雷 – Yàn Chūnléi. See earlier note. ↩

47. 传音入密 – chuányīn rùmì. Literally transmitting voice into secrecy. An advanced neigong technique that allows the practitioner to project their voice into the ear of a specific person without anyone else hearing, even at considerable distance. ↩

48. 排山运掌 – páishān yùn zhǎng. Literally mountain-toppling palm. A forceful palm technique characterised by overwhelming, crushing pressure, designed to drive an opponent backward through sheer power. ↩

49. 偷龙转凤 – tōulóng zhuǎnfèng. Literally stealing the dragon, turning the phoenix. A technique of deceptive sleight-of-hand, in which the practitioner feints with one overwhelming attack while the true strike executes an entirely different objective—in this case, seizing the fire striker from Ruan Xing’s grasp. ↩