Suns rose and suns set; in the blink of an eye, several days had passed.
Widow Wang's disappearance had caused a bit of a stir in the village.
Some said she had taken her daughter beyond the passes to return to her ancestral home...
Others said the woman had lost her mind completely to muttering and superstition, and went to sell her daughter to a child broker in Chang'an City...
Naturally, it was only idle gossip.
An outsider widow, forever smelling foul and universally disliked—who would truly care whether she lived or died?
At most, folk sighed over the poor child who was not yet four years old.
Village Head Li Huairen cared even less.
He simply dispatched someone to report a disappearance to the yamen, then had his household servants seize the plots Widow Wang left behind, infuriating a few others who had harbored the exact same design and prompting a round of curses behind his back.
Such were the only traces the Widow Wang household left behind in Fort Li...
...
Rattle, rumble!
Several old horses strained to haul stone rollers.
With the summer harvest drawing near, golden waves of wheat rolled across the fields.
Though it was not yet time to reap, farm chores were by no means sparse.
Women gathered mulberry leaves to raise silkworms and cooked for young and old alike.
The men brought out sickles, pitchforks, wooden shovels, and pushing rakes from storerooms, repairing and maintaining their tools in preparation for the summer harvest.
Besides this, the threshing ground had to be rolled smooth and flat with stone rollers.
After all, rushing the harvest was like fighting a war; if preparations fell short and trouble struck during the reaping, followed by a bout of rain, no one could expect an easy year.
Li Yan was not idle either, feeding fodder to the horses at the threshing ground.
"Little Brother Yan, my beasts are second to none!"
The carter Du Sixi bared a mouth of crooked, protruding teeth, spitting as he pitched his wares with gusto.
"Around ten years old, in the prime of life! Never suffered an injury. Can't claim it covers a thousand li a day, but trotting back and forth to Chang'an on regular days is child's play..."
"Roaming the jianghu, you've got a blade—how can you do without a horse?!"
Fort Li was far from wealthy; only Village Head Li Huairen's household possessed a few old workhorses, which he occasionally took out for a leisurely ride.
Even that stirred envy among the village lads.
Li Yan naturally wanted to get one as well, not out of petty vanity, but to practice archery on horseback and make traveling to Chang'an more convenient whenever he found spare time.
Yet at the moment, he was somewhat distracted.
Watching Du Sixi boast endlessly, Li Yan felt a stir in his mind and asked, "Old Du, what famous Daoist temples are there in Chang'an City?"
Widow Wang and her daughter had been gone for several days.
No one knew a terrifying thing had crept into the village to cause havoc.
Though the incident had settled, for Li Yan, matters were just beginning.
First, he knew his family's misfortunes—and the violent deaths of his father and this body's previous occupant—were caused by a foe using yansheng sorcery to curse them.
Their enemy's methods were vicious, and to tamper with an item bestowed by the imperial court proved their influence was far from ordinary. Once they discovered the curse was broken, they would likely stir up trouble again.
Moreover, Li Yan had no intention of letting the matter drop.
Second, according to Widow Wang, his Yang Six Roots had opened and he had gained supernatural smell, meaning sooner or later foul, yin-evil things would target him again.
Thus, stepping into Xuanmen had become his immediate, crucial goal.
This Du Sixi before him was a cart driver from the neighboring Du Village. On ordinary days, he traveled between nearby settlements, carrying passengers to Chang'an or hauling freight.
These past two days, he had hitched up his team to help several villages drag stone rollers.
Though unremarkable in appearance, he was nonetheless a man of the jianghu.
Within the jianghu lay the Five Trades and Eight Crafts. The Five Trades referred to carts, boats, inns, porters, and brokers; the Eight Crafts referred to various artisans—blacksmiths, carpenters, tanners, and the like.
The jianghu was not merely about fighting and killing; it was first and foremost a means of earning a living.
Moreover, some factions within the Five Trades and Eight Crafts commanded such weight that even renowned desperadoes of the greenwood had to show respect when crossing paths with them.
Take water transport: in the south there was the Raft Sect, in the north the Canal Gang, and on the open sea the Four Seas Gang.
Take the porters: though it was grueling manual labor, every wharf had its gang.
Take the inns: several celebrated tavern establishments were not only resting places for traveling jianghu figures, but also conduits where intelligence flowed freely.
Coach houses were much the same.
Consider this: scraping a living taking fares in one place, dealing in travelers coming and going, how could anyone manage without backing? Not to mention traversing the country from south to north.
Where there were people, there was profit; and where there was profit, there was the jianghu.
Within Chang'an City, two great coach houses held sway: Taixing and Changsheng.
Not only in Chang'an City, but across the entire Guanzhong region, all cart and carriage business was monopolized by them, and they maintained close ties with every armed escort agency, renowned inn, canal gang, porter guild, and broker firm.
Their martial prowess might be mediocre, but their ears and eyes were extraordinarily sharp.
Du Sixi was one of Taixing Coach House's men. Because of his crooked, oversized teeth, folk had nicknamed him Big-Tooth Du.
Though of humble rank and modest ability, scratching out a living drifting among the villages, he truly knew a good deal.
He had once received kindness from Li Yan's father, Li Hu, which was why Li Yan felt comfortable asking.
"Need you even ask?"
Du Sixi chuckled. "Though Chang'an has suffered through wars and turmoil, it remains the capital of multiple dynasties. With its hundred and eight wards, temples and Daoist shrines big and small are beyond counting."
"Why, does Little Brother Yan want to go burn incense? Tomorrow I happen to be heading into Chang'an..."
Li Yan waved him off, his voice dropping into a solemn tone. "Old Du, I want to know where to find true masters of Xuanmen!"
"Xuan... Xuanmen?"
Du Sixi froze. "What are you asking about that for?"
From his reaction, he actually knew something?!
Pleased, Li Yan flashed a smile and pulled Du Sixi down into the shade of a tree. "Old Du—no, Uncle Du—since you know, why not tell me a bit?"
Hearing himself addressed as "Uncle Du" made Du Sixi feel quite pleased, but knowing who Li Yan was, he dared not act presumptuous. He offered an obsequious grin. "Don't mock me, Little Brother Yan. Your father, Master Tiger, was a man who made quite a name for himself across the Guanzhong roads."
"Who hasn't heard of the Sick Tiger of Guanzhong? How could he not have known about such things?"
Li Yan grew pensive. "Just tell me what you know. Don't ramble about other things."
Come to think of it, his father had taught him plenty about jianghu lore, passing down all the Chundian argot, yet he had never once spoken of Xuanmen.
Could he have concealed it on purpose...?
Seeing Li Yan's face darken slightly, Big-Tooth Du felt his heart thump. Daring not waste any more breath, he said, "In the jianghu's three religions and nine schools, besides skill, there's also station and status."
"I'm only a carter, running errands in the gang. I don't know much, but I've caught bits and pieces over the years."
"The term 'Xuanmen' is broad. Anyone capable of strange arts can claim to be part of it, though dragons and snakes mix together, making truth hard to tell from trickery. Yet those who truly possess ability—no one dares look down on them."
"Among them, there are roughly two branches."
"One is appointed by the imperial court and registered under the Ministry of Rites' Bureau of Mysterious Sacrifices. They receive Daoist or Buddhist ordination certificates and preside over celebrated mountains, temples, and monasteries. They claim to be orthodox Xuanmen, the most renowned of which is the Taixuan Orthodox Sect."
"The other branch is far broader: geomancers, spirit-mediums, shamans, and anyone on the jianghu road who knows occult arts."
"Though the orthodox sect looks down on them and calls them heterodox paths, their standing in the jianghu is extraordinary. The formidable ones are enshrined and supported as honored elders by powerful gangs."
"It's just that ordinary folk can't tell the swindlers from true masters..."
Li Yan pressed immediately, "Do you know anyone in Xuanmen?"
"You jest, Little Brother Yan!"
Big-Tooth Du replied with an apologetic grin, "Old Du here is just scraping by, not worth a single pubic hair in the gang. Besides, with these mortal eyes of mine, how could I know such exalted masters?"
Seeing Li Yan's brow knit slightly, he lowered his voice at once. "Don't fret, Little Brother Yan. Old Du has no great skill, but there's a fellow with wide connections who also has ties to your family. He ought to know someone."
"Who?"
"Sha Lifei!"
"Him?!"
Hearing that name, Li Yan's expression turned exceedingly odd.
...
After chatting a while longer with Big-Tooth Du, Li Yan returned home.
The moment he stepped into the courtyard, he saw his grandfather, Li Gui, squatting on the door threshold, long pipe in hand, puffing out clouds of smoke with a huffy scowl.
Li Yan smiled. "Grandpa, what happened this time?"
The old man knitted his brows and cursed, "That dog Li Laoshuan cheated at chess! A miserable wretch who'll never eat a proper meal in his life!"
Li Yan chuckled at that. "Cool your temper. Go settle the score with him tomorrow."
When this bunch of old men played chess, it wasn't their skill that was tough—it was their mouths.
Losing a match didn't matter; losing the argument was what stoked their fury.
Still, wasn't this a good thing?
Ever since the yansheng magic inside the plaque had been broken, Grandpa Li Gui had visibly changed. He no longer spent whole days stewing in sullen gloom, seemingly having let go of many grievances.
He either played chess with the village elders or went fishing at West Creek, and had even clamored about wanting to hear an opera in Chang'an City.
Seeing the old man like this brought genuine joy to Li Yan's heart, but at the same time, it deepened his hatred for the person who had cast the curse, stoking murderous intent.
Across two lifetimes, he had never been one to swallow an injury in silence.
Furthermore, on his walk back, he had turned several thoughts over in his head.
Reasonably speaking, his father was a veteran of the jianghu and could not have been ignorant of Xuanmen. He had taught him everything, yet seemed to have deliberately concealed this one subject.
Could his father, Li Hu, have been investigating in secret as well?
Yet that seemed unlikely. Had his father known a curse was secretly laid upon their home, how could he have left that plaque hanging above their lintel?
And then there was his cause of death. He hadn't thought much of it before, but the more he considered it now, the stranger it seemed...
At the thought, Li Yan's curiosity stirred. He looked at Li Gui, crouched down, and asked with a smile, "Grandpa, back in the day, who did you actually offend?"
Li Gui bristled, his white brows twitching up. "Why ask about that?"
Li Yan gave an easy grin. "Just curious. Besides, if not for that person, I might have grown up as some pampered young master. Whenever I felt put out, I'd at least have an excuse to curse them."
"Young master, my foot!"
Li Gui took a puff from his pipe and barked, "You were born to scratch out food from the dirt! Stop daydreaming about nonsense. That happened so many years ago—what, are you thinking of picking a fight?"
"Besides, that person is already dead."
"Dead?!"
Chapter 12