Little Sword Immortal Fang Shaobai

Wang Yu pulled awkwardly on the ox cart's reins and looked at the newcomer. The traveler appeared about twenty-three or twenty-four years old, dressed in slightly disheveled deep azure robes. He wore an easy, uninhibited expression, though at that moment he was trying his best to squeeze out a harmless, amiable smile. Seeing Wang Yu look his way, he tucked the longsword behind his back a little further out of sight. A very interesting young man. A glint flashed in Wang Yu's eyes, and he waved him over. "Hop on." The young man broke into a grin and briskly stepped up beside the cart. First he bowed respectfully toward Li Yunxiu and Zi Ling under the awning, then vaulted onto the cart and sat down beside Wang Yu. "Much obliged, brother!" the young man said to Wang Yu. "I flagged down three carts, and you're the only one willing to give me a lift." Wang Yu glanced at the sword at the young man's hip. "When traveling far from home, a bit of caution is understandable." It was a longsword in a black scabbard. The cotton cord wrapped around the hilt had been handled so much it gleamed with grease, and the leather sheath bore numerous scratches, looking quite old. The young man leaned casually against the edge of the awning and asked with a grin, "Aren't you afraid, brother?" "If you wanted to do me harm, either you wouldn't let your sword show at all, or you would've already drawn it," Wang Yu replied, shaking his head. Then a teasing smile touched his lips. "Who knows? Letting you ride along might even make me safer." The young man burst out laughing, then lifted the longsword in his hand and offered an offhand explanation: "A gift from my master's sect. I could hardly go tossing it by the roadside." Wang Yu said, "Understood," and then asked, "We're heading west toward Puning County. Is that on your way?" "What a coincidence! Puning County is exactly where I'm headed," the young man nodded eagerly. "Then our paths align." Wang Yu flicked his whip, setting the old yellow ox in motion once more. ... Spring was at its height, and even the afternoon sunlight carried a touch of brilliance. The gentle breeze was thoroughly refreshing to body and spirit. Having met purely by chance, Wang Yu and the young man did not exchange names, merely chatting idly. Wang Yu learned that the young man was a local, rushing to Puning County because fellow disciples had run into trouble and needed help. The young man learned that Wang Yu hailed from Pingjin Prefecture in the Jingji Circuit and was journeying to the northwest to attend his father's funeral. Inside the awning, Zi Ling looked at Li Yunxiu in confusion, baffled as to why Wang Yu would invite an unfamiliar martial artist onto their cart, yet she didn't dare ask aloud. Sensing Zi Ling's doubt, Li Yunxiu smiled faintly. She first pointed to the three of them, holding up three fingers, and then pointed to the young man, raising a fourth. A spark of realization lit up Zi Ling's eyes, and she looked out at Wang Yu with considerable admiration. Three days had passed since they took up their disguises and began slipping under the radar. The assassins along the way had surely caught wind of the situation; aside from those who gave up, others were bound to be staking out the thoroughfares leading to Longshan Prefecture. Puning County ahead was a key junction along one of the routes from Lujia Market—where Elder Yan had died of poison—to Longshan Prefecture. There might well be persistent assassins keeping watch over the passing travelers. No matter how thoroughly they disguised themselves, they were still a trio of one man and two women, and their apparent ages could not differ too widely. After all, even if Li Yunxiu could disguise them as elderly folk, they could never mimic the decrepit frailties of old age, making them prone to giving themselves away. Therefore, Wang Yu inviting one or two extra people along the road—ideally locals—would only help them slip through undetected. The only thing that left Li Yunxiu slightly uneasy was that Wang Yu had invited a jianghu martial artist rather than an ordinary peddler, porter, or artisan like she had envisioned. Of course, a martial artist wasn't necessarily a bad choice. As the saying went, the darkest place was beneath the lamp; a local jianghu wanderer might attract even less suspicion—provided they didn't expose their own secrets before him. There was no such thing as a completely flawless bargain in this world: to enjoy the advantages, one had to shoulder the risks. Li Yunxiu looked out at the two men outside the awning. One was witty and humorous, the other natural and unconstrained. Wang Yu spoke knowledgeably about his observations in Pingjin Prefecture, while the young man, hearing that Wang Yu hadn't returned home in seven or eight years, shared some northwestern road customs. Just then, a banner appeared by the roadside ahead, emblazoned with the single character "Tea"—a roadside tea stall opened on the left side of the road. "We must be out of drinking water. Let's buy a bowl of tea from the owner and refill our waterskins," Wang Yu called back into the awning. Then he said to the young man, "I'll buy you a bowl of tea to sober up too." The young man did not stand on ceremony. "Much obliged, brother." Wang Yu pulled the ox cart to a halt beside the tea stall, took the leather waterskin Li Yunxiu handed him, and stepped down to buy tea and water from the owner. The young man remained on the cart, leaning casually against the edge of the awning. With a sweep of his gaze, he took in all the customers under the stall's shed. Only about half of the seven or eight tables were occupied. At two of them sat several traveling merchants and peddlers, sipping tea with bowed heads in timid, anxious caution. When they glanced at the ox cart and Wang Yu walking up to buy tea, their eyes were filled with pity. At two other tables sat several rough-looking men. Their leader was a burly fellow with his tunic bared across his chest. Despite being at a tea stall, half a jar of wine was perched before him. Wang Yu walked in, ordered four bowls of tea from the proprietor, requested a waterskin full of water, took out a thin pouch, and counted out twelve copper coins to hand over. Seeing Wang Yu's deflated purse, several thugs beside the burly man cast inquiring glances at their leader. The big man grunted and gestured forward with a finger. At once, two men rose from their seats, one stepping in front of Wang Yu and the other behind him, blocking his path. "Brother, passing through?" the man in front asked. "Brother, spare a few coins for spending money," the man behind said, eyeing Wang Yu from head to toe. Wang Yu had already prepared for such encounters. Besides a few dozen copper coins, his thin purse held half a tael of silver—an amount neither large enough to provoke excessive greed nor so paltry that it would anger them into forcing a fight and exposing his skills. Yet before Wang Yu could reach for the pouch, the young man sitting on the cart spoke up. "Curly-haired Dog, instead of lording it over Puning County, what are you doing out in the outskirts bullying folk?" "Who's that! How dare you!" "Nonsense! Our boss's title is Curly-haired Bear!" The burly man was furious and jerked his head up. But before he could speak, his lackeys had already begun clamoring. "Who are you? State your name!" the big man demanded, glaring at the young man. The young man didn't answer. Instead, longsword still in its scabbard, he casually tossed the weapon to one of the thugs who had rushed a few paces forward to show loyalty to the boss, though without getting too close. The thug caught the longsword, looking completely bewildered. The young man pointed toward Curly-haired Bear. Only then did the thug snap out of his stupor; holding the sword with both hands, he hurried back to his leader and presented it. "Boss, what's he mean by this?" "Why'd he give you his sword? Is he scared out of his wits, or surrendering?" Curly-haired Bear took the longsword, his heart skipping a beat. He picked up the scabbard to examine it closely. "This sword looks pretty worn," one thug remarked. "Clearly from someone without much fat on him." "Still, he's definitely a martial artist. Why'd he hand over his trusty weapon to us?" another asked in confusion. "There's even a character 'Bai' carved on the sheath. But the sheath is clearly black, isn't it?" A sharp-eyed third thug noticed the engraving. "Is this guy blind?" The moment the words left his mouth, Curly-haired Bear felt as if struck by lightning. He swung his backhand and slapped the third thug across the face. "You're the blind one! Your whole family is blind!" Clutching his left cheek in terror, the thug stared at Curly-haired Bear, having no idea what he had said wrong. Then he watched his boss turn toward the young man, the look of alarm and fury instantly melting into an obsequious grin. Holding the sword high in both hands, the big man jogged out of the tea stall and rushed straight to the ox cart. "This lowly one was blind not to recognize Young Hero Fang, the Little Sword Immortal, in person! In your great benevolence, please forgive me!" As he held the longsword out with both hands to return it, he twisted around to frantically signal the two men blocking Wang Yu. Those two were sharp enough. Especially upon hearing the words "Little Sword Immortal," they recoiled as if Wang Yu were bristling with three-foot-long spikes, hastily backing aside, heads bowed and hands lowered, trying their best to fade into the background. The young man merely rolled his eyes, reached out to take back the offered sword, and corrected him: "Not Little Sword Immortal. It's the Sword in Wine!" "Yes, yes, of course! Whatever Young Hero Fang says!" Curly-haired Bear nodded frantically, agreeing to whatever he said. The young man curled his lip and pressed the point no further, asking instead, "Don't you usually run a gang in Puning County and collect protection money from your turf? What brought you out here?" A pained smile crossed Curly-haired Bear's face. "A few ruthless figures came to the county recently, which in turn drew over the heroes of the Taihua Sect and the venerable monks of the Great Vajra Monastery. This lowly one truly didn't dare stay in town, so I came out here to lie low for some peace and quiet." "So you came out here to bully people instead?" the young man asked with a faint smirk. Curly-haired Bear's smile was uglier than weeping. "This lowly one was merely scrounging up some silver to blow off steam. I wouldn't dare take a life." Noticing the young man's sideways glare, Curly-haired Bear hastily added, "This lowly one will return every copper to them!" The young man nodded. "When you take protection money in town, you at least get things done, so I won't pry into that. But doing this out here—aren't you afraid of running into a hard bone who'll finish you off on the spot?" "I wouldn't dare! Never again!" Curly-haired Bear nodded repeatedly before asking respectfully, "What brings your esteemed self here? Is there anything this lowly one can do for you?" "Whatever drove you out is what's bringing me in," the young man replied. "Uh..." Curly-haired Bear looked troubled. "Fine, just stay out here for a few days." The young man waved him off, then asked, "How did this end up drawing the Great Vajra Monastery into it? Who came?" "I don't know either!" Curly-haired Bear shook his head quickly, then added, "It was Master Hongzhao who arrived." The young man clicked his tongue twice, then waved his hand to dismiss Curly-haired Bear. At the same time, Wang Yu returned to the ox cart carrying the filled waterskin, followed by two thugs who each held two bowls of tea. Wang Yu joked, "Turns out I have a knack for fortune-telling. Giving you a ride really did make me safer." The young man smiled as well, took a bowl of tea, and downed it in one gulp. ... The ox cart set off once again. Wang Yu turned to the young man. "You're Fang Shaobai, the most formidable Little Sword Immortal of the Taihua Sect's younger generation?" He hadn't expected that someone he picked up on a whim just to mask their trail would turn out to be the fiercest champion pushed to the forefront by the Taihua Sect. "You've heard of me too?" Fang Shaobai raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. After all, tales of jianghu figures were staple fodder for storytellers across the land, and ordinary folk were always fascinated by the mysteries of the martial world. Thus, many prominent martial masters enjoyed widespread fame among the common people. Yet he lifted the gourd in his hand once more. "'Little Sword Immortal' is just flattery meant to kill with praise, and I don't want a 'Little' in my title anyway. I gave myself an epithet: the Sword in Wine!" As he spoke, Fang Shaobai popped the stopper from the gourd and took a hearty swig. The fragrant aroma of wine wafted through the air. Wang Yu caught the scent, glanced at Fang Shaobai in surprise, and said incredulously, "The Sword in Wine? A grown man drinking fruit wine—and getting so drunk you lost track of time?"