In a little while, Qian Chen followed Huang Yuhan to a secluded little courtyard. Only two men were within: Hong Sihai and the divine monk Kongming — Daoist Wanshi was still over at Five Lakes Hall, holding the overall situation in hand. Qian Chen heard Kongming saying, "The Hall Master carries the great cause of the martial world on his shoulders — how could you be so careless... If the Twelve Yuan Chen had not schemed to cripple one of your arms, how would they dare be so brazen?"
Hong Sihai laughed heartily. "As if I would let these scoundrels desecrate my sworn brother's remains."
Then, seeing Huang Yuhan come in, he hailed him. "Yuhan! How goes the mourning hall for my sworn brother? Is all in order?"
Huang Yuhan bowed his head. "All is ready."
"I will offer up the heads of the Twelve Yuan Chen to my second brother's spirit in heaven!" The rage Hong Sihai had been forcing down all this while finally showed itself in that moment.
Huang Yuhan asked Qian Chen to examine the Hall Master's wound. Qian Chen unwrapped Hong Sihai's bandaged right fist, saw the skin split open and the flesh gape, and his brow creased. He pondered a long while before lifting his head. Noting that the divine monk Kongming looked faintly tense, Qian Chen gave an easy smile, drew a medicine case from his robes, blended a wound salve, and applied a fresh dressing to Hong Sihai's hand.
"Old Hero Hong, the wound on your hand is grave. I fear it will be months before it heals clean. I applied a measure of wolf-and-tiger medicine to it: that delays the wound's full healing, but it speeds up your recovery over the short term. Once this night is past, old hero, you will be able to throw punches again... Only, each punch you throw makes the wound that much worse. If you do it several times in quick succession, I'm afraid..."
"Afraid of what?" Chan Master Kongming asked, taut.
"Afraid this hand will be ruined!"
Even Kongming's amiable temper was provoked to anger by Qian Chen's bluntness! "How could you do such a—"
"All the better..." Hong Sihai waved a hand. "Then let me avenge my sworn brother and the disciples who died in our hall with these two hands of mine!"
Hong Sihai and the divine monk still had much to settle between them, so Huang Yuhan and Qian Chen withdrew first. On the way, Qian Chen smiled. "The truth is, I know little of these jianghu matters. Many of the heroes here I couldn't put a name to, and it's hard to know how to open a conversation."
"What's so hard about that? Allow me to make you a few introductions, little brother."
Huang Yuhan began by pointing out a young swordsman.
"This is a rising star of the righteous path — Kang Qiandeng, the Three-Absolutes Swordsman. His swordsmanship is ferocity itself. Among grandmasters he is still a newcomer, yet with his family's heirloom divine weapon, the Startled Swan Sword, he was already the match of any long-famed grandmaster hero."
"And this is the Jade Maiden of the jianghu-famed Jade Maiden and the Yaksha — the heroine Shen Wanjun..." Huang Yuhan gestured to a beautiful young matron, lovely of face yet wearing a look of frost, clad in plain mourning white, and explained to Qian Chen with no little regret: "Five years ago, Hero Fu the Night Yaksha King was murdered by the Twelve Yuan Chen. Heroine Shen swore herself to vengeance and took a new title — the Jade Rakshasa. Now her husband's murderers are before her eyes, yet she cannot cut them down just yet. I fear that is the bitterest torment there is..."
"Hero Fu was ugly of face, but his heart was chivalrous. And Heroine Shen was once one of the celebrated beauties of the jianghu. When the two of them married, it gave all their jianghu friends the shock of their lives! Yet this heroic couple was devotedly in love, the envy of everyone who knew them. It's only a pity..."
"And this is Zhao Cheng, 'One Line of Sky.' Hero Zhao heads the Changfeng Escort Agency as its honored chief escort. With a single Fading Sun Spear he once stormed the eighteen stockades of Uneven Mountain — 'Eight hundred li of Uneven Mountain, where the homebound traveler's soul broke upon the paths' — and from that day forward the mountain was renamed Taiping Mountain, the Mountain of Great Peace!"
Chief Escort Zhao Cheng was a taciturn man, often found alone, wiping down that divine spear of his, the Fading Sun.
"And there is Du Zihuai, Hero Du — his Crimson Blood, Loyal Heart Sword Art is subtle beyond fathoming."
Qian Chen followed his gaze and saw a down-at-heels swordsman dressed as a middle-aged scholar, several strands of long hair straggling carelessly over his brow, his eyes dull, carrying a bemused, drunken haze.
"That unremarkable old gentleman is Old Hero Li, the Old Man of Generals and Ministers. The title sounds imposing, and there is a true story behind it: the heirloom divine weapon of his house is the Spring and Autumn Brush, yet by nature he loved the spear. In time he smelted brush technique and spear technique together in one furnace, founded a school of his own, and named it 'Generals and Ministers' — and today he is the top master of the jianghu most likely to break through to great grandmaster."
This Old Hero Li turned out to be a wizened, wiry old man brimming with vigor, an iron brush hanging at his waist.
"That upright gentleman is Hero Xu Xiaoyang. The Xu family's Righteous Qi Manor is a name that thunders across the land; though hidden weapons are their family art, they have never once struck from the shadows to wound a soul. Their heirloom divine weapon, the Five-Colored Stone, is among the most famous and most powerful divine weapons in all the jianghu."
And this Hero Xu Xiaoyang looked for all the world like a rich country squire, a handsome beard on his chin, groomed to perfection — clearly an object of its owner's fondest care.
As grand steward of Four Seas Hall, Huang Yuhan had a hundred matters clamoring for him at such a time. When the introductions were done, he took his leave. Qian Chen lay on his cot for half the night — and then ferocious shouts of battle burst from outside Four Seas Hall, shattering the quiet of the night.
Qian Chen's eyes went red in an instant. He bowed his head and sighed, "Brother Huang!"
The Twelve Yuan Chen had fought their way into Four Seas Hall.
Huang Yuhan, he feared, was already lost!
They had known each other a single day, yet already there was the unspoken rapport and standing of friends between them... Without a word, Qian Chen bundled up his bedding, shouldered the Heavenly Net Umbrella, and joined the startled heroes gathering before the main hall.
Hong Sihai stood at the head of the great hall, his face dark as a storm. His right hand was held behind his back; his left gripped the back of a chair so hard the veins stood out on the back of his hand, proclaiming the turmoil within. Only when everyone had assembled did he speak. "While Yuhan was setting out the mourning hall for my sworn brother, someone killed him inside it!"
The heroes exploded. "Who did it? Four Seas Hall's defenses are sealed airtight — could it be..."
The divine monk Kongming stepped forward. "No one left these grounds last night!"
"How cunning the Twelve Yuan Chen are..."
"We cannot sit here waiting to be slaughtered!" the Elder of Eight Cripples roared. "The Twelve Yuan Chen have already fought their way in! With this many of us, are we to fear a few skulking wretches?"
"Yes — fight our way out!" someone echoed.
Hong Sihai and Chan Master Kongming exchanged a look. With Huang Yuhan dead, no one remained who could take his place and keep Four Seas Hall's defenses watertight. The web of arrangements Yuhan left behind was still feeding word of the enemy into Five Lakes Hall without pause, but there was no one left to weigh each report in turn and move the hall's disciples where they ought to go.
There was nothing for it but to take the enemy situation as it stood and send the righteous heroes out to hold separate fronts.
At one sweep of Hong Sihai's hand, the heroes filed out of Five Lakes Hall together. "Elder of Eight Cripples, you two Straight-Talking Brothers — the three of you are one group. Go meet the enemy coming from the south, and beware their covert blows."
***
So the orders went out, one after another, and still they were orderly enough.
But Qian Chen knew this was only the surface. The groups looked composed, as if the situation were well in hand — yet once divided, they had all but lost their grip on the intelligence and the course of events. Qian Chen clasped his hands behind his back, the Heavenly Net Umbrella slung across his shoulders.
The bright moon paced out from behind the clouds, its clear light chill — and yet it spilled across the ground, lighting every hall bright. In the distance thunder-fire boomed and the cries of slaughter rose, nothing like the hours before, when Huang Yuhan still lived: the fighting then had been just as fierce, yet it had passed, on the whole, in silence. Now the signal whistles of Four Seas Hall disciples sighting the enemy rose and fell in waves across the night.
The night had come apart!
Qian Chen made straight for the densest knot of killing intent. He wanted only to kill the enemy — as an offering to his friend!
In the winding gallery that led to the rear courtyard, in the places the moonlight could not reach, shadows seemed to stir. Qian Chen and several righteous swordsmen were bound for the rear courtyard, where the battle cries raged loudest, when several peals of laughter like ghost-wailing rang out along the gallery...
"Hee hee hee..."
That laughter, bursting out of nowhere, was secretive and cold to the marrow... it made the skin crawl.
(End of the chapter)
Chapter 19