Chapter 4

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Horse Tracks Left in Empty Snow

(Thanks to Grand Alliance Leader Brushmaker Who Sells Newspapers!)

The third day after the beginning of spring.

A late spring cold snap brought another snowfall to the Central Plains. Fuzi Mountain was draped in white gauze, and the stone steps leading down the mountain were covered with a thin layer of ice. When Zhou Yi, broom in hand, reached the foot of the mountain, a cold sun was just breaking through the mist on the eastern peak.

“Spring snow promises a bountiful harvest, a good omen.”

Jue Wuzi admired the snowy landscape, loosening the reins in his hand. The old horse beside him stretched its neck, nibbling at the new sprouts of shepherd’s purse that peeked through the patchy snow.

Zhou Yi looked at his master’s white beard and eyebrows, advising: “The wind and snow are holding people back, Master. Perhaps you could leave a few days later.”

“There’s no better day than today,” Jue Wuzi stroked his long beard. “As your Master, I am not afraid of long journeys in the martial arts world. The Daochang is now entrusted to you. You three were all picked up by me from piles of dead bodies. It’s only with a bit of false reputation that I’ve been able to keep you safe. Remember, in the martial arts world, your identity is what you make it.”

Zhou Yi bowed respectfully: “Disciple understands.”

“Go back now.”

The sound of horse hooves echoed, and Jue Wuzi gave a carefree smile.

The Taiping bids farewell to its Master in the east mountain, only horse tracks remain on the empty snow.

Before long, Zhou Yi could only see the horse tracks stretching into the distance in the snow, his master’s figure no longer visible in the soft morning light. He hoisted the bamboo broom and, along with some early-arriving believers, began to climb the mountain.

The news of the Old Heavenly Master of Taiping going on a journey to visit friends didn’t cause any trouble. Zhou Yi diligently practiced his internal cultivation and read scriptures daily. Whenever he had free time, he would go to the training room to browse the martial arts manuals collected by the Daochang.

Although they were all external martial arts and some rudimentary fist, staff, and stick techniques, in this world, let alone those who practice by observing great mountains and lakes, even martial artists who practice lower-grade hard qigong should not be underestimated. For example, there’s a person named Bao Rang in the southern martial arts world. His Iron Cloth Shirt is only considered a lower-grade external martial art. But through diligent and arduous training, accumulated over decades, he actually cultivated a “Horizontal Forging Gang Qi” that was no less powerful than superior internal true qi. Thus, he became a first-rate master, earning the title “Great Strength God.”

There are many martial arts circulating in the martial arts world, and combined with those who find unconventional paths, various masters emerge endlessly. Upholding the principle that “more skills are never a burden,” Zhou Yi dedicated his free time to studying these.

It was the fifth day since Jue Wuzi left the mountain for his travels.

At Chen time (7-9 AM), a remarkably elegant young Daoist priest stood before the mountain gate of the Taiping Daochang. He wore a Hun Yuan scarf, a yellow straight-collared Daoist robe, straw sandals on his feet, and a peach wood sword struck by lightning hanging on his back. At this moment, if he held a sword in one hand and a bell in the other, Zhou Yi felt he could open an altar in the Chechi Kingdom to pray for rain. His attire was quite similar to that of Great Immortal Huli when praying for rain.

“Senior Brother!”

Yan Qiu and Xia Shu carried the religious artifacts for their mission, cheerful and excited.

Zhou Yi nodded, greeted the elderly caretakers of the Daochang, and then led the two youngsters down Fuzi Mountain. At the foot of the mountain, they got onto Feng Si’s carriage. Feng Si’s situation was similar to Zhang Cheng, who guarded the training room; he was also instructed by Jue Wuzi in hard qigong and accepted as a nominal disciple. Besides helping with the carriage rides, he also managed the vegetable garden down the mountain with another man from Dongjun named Dou Kui.

“Where’s Dou Kui?” Zhou Yi asked, as these two usually traveled together.

Feng Si replied: “Reporting, Senior Brother. Old Li, who is in charge of carrying vegetables and rice, fell and broke his leg bone a few days ago due to slippery ice on the road. Old Li’s daughter is frail and doesn’t have much strength, so Dou Kui helped him to the town to find a doctor.”

Zhou Yi remembered Old Li; he was an honest and timid farmer.

“Was the injury serious?”

Feng Si sighed: “It’s not critical, but he’s old and frail, so it won’t heal as easily.” Zhou Yi felt a little relieved.

Feng Si pulled the old mat at the front of the carriage, settled down, and hesitated as he took the reins: “Senior Brother, should we take the official road or a small path?”

Zhou Yi saw his hesitation: “Have you heard any new information?”

Feng Si’s face showed a look of lament: “That Zhang Xutuo is truly formidable. Yesterday, I heard from people in the teahouse at Gaoyang Gathering that Zhi Shilang was defeated by him again, suffering a massive defeat of over ten thousand troops near Zhangqiu. This Zhang Xutuo is currently trusted by the incompetent ruler and has taken on a new assignment in Luoyang. They say he’s teamed up with General Yuwen Chengdu of the Eagle Yang Guard to jointly eliminate the remnants of Yang Xuan’gan’s rebels and suppress the righteous armies in the Central Plains and Qilu region.”

Feng Si was a little nervous. “The Eagle Yang Guard was originally in the Baima area, not far from us. Now they’ve gone south to Taikang, and I don’t know where they are now.”

Zhou Yi remained cautious. ‘The “Queue General” is a master of the Yuwen Clan. I need to keep a low profile these days.’ Although the Taiping Dao was a martial arts force, even Feng Si could feel the danger. This name was too special; it was indistinguishable from the various righteous armies that had risen in rebellion, and all were seen as achievements in the eyes of the Sui generals.

However, the Yuwen Clan was one of the Four Great Clans. If they didn’t actively seek trouble, they likely wouldn’t bother with the small pickings of Fuzi Mountain. Taking a small path was out of the question; firstly, forest paths were difficult to travel, and secondly, they were prone to bandits. Any delay on the road would affect today’s birthday banquet ritual.

“Let’s take the official road, it’s fine,” Zhou Yi responded calmly, looking at the sky.

Only then did Feng Si urge the horse forward.

It was late Si time (9-11 AM).

The carriage traveled north of Yongqiu, and the Yanggu Fortress appeared in sight. The city walls were less than two zhang (approx. 6.6 meters) high, making it only a small city. After all, the city walls of Chang’an, Luoyang, and Jiangdu were all over thirty zhang (approx. 100 meters) high; those were truly enormous. Even with the unparalleled lightness skill of Cloud Marshal of the Western Tujue, it would be difficult to easily cross them.

The carriage passed under the words “Yanggu” on the city gate.

Xia Shu pulled the carriage curtain wider. The two young Daoist acolytes peered outside. The Taiping Daochang had many believers, but rarely did they encounter such urban market bustle.

Upon entering the city, a continuous “ding-dong” sound filled their ears. Sparks flew from the blacksmith’s shop at the street corner. Two burly men, bare-chested, swung hammers, striking red-hot iron on the anvil. Their rhythmic hammering resonated with the failed art student. Zhou Yi seemed to hear from the clanging of the iron: The courage of the wind… hmm, martial artists like the wind.

A nearby inn was bustling. Many martial artists, armed with weapons, were drinking together at the tea stall on the first floor, boasting about their experiences in the north and south. On the south side of the second floor, two young scholars gazed out the window at the willow buds, vaguely heard muttering about “Emperor Wen” and discussing “the rise and fall of the world.”

The streets were lined with shops, and there were many people and horses. Feng Si had already slowed the carriage. Zhou Yi gazed, mesmerized, at the sights and sounds of the human world. This was also one of the wonders of the Huangshi world; no matter how fierce the fighting outside, most cities remained unaffected, displaying a prosperity that far exceeded historical records.

“Whoa~!”

Feng Si suddenly reined in the horse.

An old man dressed as a steward approached the carriage, followed by several capable guards, all wearing dark martial robes, with sleeves tied at the waist and swords hanging. Just by their physique, one could tell they were trained martial artists. Beside the steward stood a richly dressed young nobleman.

The old steward looked at the flag on the carriage and stepped forward. “May I ask if this is the carriage from the Taiping Daochang?”

Feng Si, from outside, replied: “It is.”

The old steward immediately smiled: “My Old Master ordered me to wait here to welcome the Heavenly Master to the Cao residence.”

Xia Shu said: “Thank you for leading the way, host.”

Zhou Yi and the old steward met eyes and nodded to each other.

The Cao residence was a prominent family in Yanggu. During Emperor Wen’s reign, their family members served as Attendant Censors in the Secretariat. Normally, with such a background, even if the family had many connections with martial arts forces, they should cherish their reputation and not invite people from the Taiping Dao. The problem was that after Yang Guang ascended the throne, this Attendant Censor of the Cao residence had already been executed.

The Cao family guards cleared the way, leading Feng Si’s carriage forward. The young nobleman remained silent, walking at the very front of the procession with the old steward.

“Steward Sun, who are the people in the carriage?” asked the Cao young master.

The old steward saw a hint of displeasure on his face and gently reminded him: “This person is named Zhou Yi, the esteemed disciple of Heavenly Master Jue Wuzi of the Taiping Dao. Young Master, you’ve been cultivating in the Sanqin region for a long time, so naturally, you wouldn’t know his name.”

The young man scoffed lightly, “Grandfather shouldn’t have invited people from the Taiping Dao at a time like this.”

The old steward’s voice grew softer: “This matter involves many aspects. Empress Liang’s people once sent subordinates to the residence. Young Master, you need to ask Old Master about this.”

“Empress Liang’s people?” Cao Chengyun snorted through his nose, shaking his head dismissively. “The only one who can enter the eyes of our sect master is Duke Mi.”

“It’s just a pity that Yang Xuan’gan wasn’t a successful person…”

– Mochinuna.