The noodle stall owner chatted with a regular customer about what had happened, and Zhong Lingxiu caught the gist of it.
Apparently, Manager Zhao across the street ran a cloth shop. Though it was a small business, the town’s location was prime, so merchants came and went in a steady stream, and business was booming. Over the years, he’d managed to save up a little nest egg.
It wasn’t until he was in his thirties that he and his wife finally had a daughter, whom they treasured like a pearl. They arranged a good marriage for her early on, planning for her to wed into her aunt’s family so she wouldn’t be bullied in the future.
But who could have predicted disaster would strike? On the eve of her engagement, Zhao Xiaojie was violated by a scoundrel, losing her innocence. She tried to end her life several times, but each time her family saved her. No one expected that even after all that, she still couldn’t escape this fate today.
What a pity—every year, the Zhao family gave out porridge to the poor and never had any disputes with their neighbors, yet now the elders must bury the young.
“Where did this villain come from? Why isn’t the local magistrate doing anything?” a customer protested indignantly. “The officials are all useless freeloaders.”
“You’ve misunderstood, sir,” the stall owner hurriedly explained, not daring to offend the county yamen’s constables. “The one who did this isn’t an ordinary criminal, but the infamous Chahua Bandit, Tian Boguang, of the Jianghu. Even the authorities can’t do anything about him.”
Zhong Lingxiu frowned slightly.
She could barely recall the plot of “Smiling Proud Wanderer” now—just that Dongfang Bubai, Yue Buqun, and Lin Pingzhi all ended up mutilated, with the whole mess starting over the Bixie Sword Art. Zuo Lengchan wasn’t a good person, Linghu Chong and Ren Yingying got together, and their duet on the qin and xiao was legendary.
As for Tian Boguang, all she remembered was that he was a Chahua Bandit—she had no idea how his story ended.
Who would have thought such a beast would show up at the foot of Mount Heng?
Zhong Lingxiu muttered inwardly, not daring to speak up.
Tea stalls and noodle shops were dangerous places—who knew what might happen if she echoed the crowd and called him a “pervert”? It was said that criminals liked to revisit the scene of the crime. If she ran into the culprit himself, she’d be in serious trouble.
“Yixiu.” Ding Yan Shitai returned and instructed, “I’m going to visit the Zhao family. You handle the shopping.”
Zhong Lingxiu nodded repeatedly. The Mount Heng Sect had the secret medicine Tianxiang Duanxu Jiao, perfect for treating wounds. If Zhao Xiaojie had stabbed herself, perhaps it could save her. “Don’t worry, Shifu.”
Ding Yan Shitai smiled in relief.
Though a member of Mount Heng’s “Ding” generation, her mediocre talent left her martial skills ordinary. She had long given up on wandering the Jianghu and settled into managing Baiyun Nunnery’s daily affairs.
Now older and often weary, she hoped to train a junior to take her place. Yixiu, whom she had raised herself, was literate, steady, and sensible.
On this trip down the mountain for ritual duties, Yixiu handled everything with poise—never complaining or slacking, always proper with others—deepening Ding Yan’s appreciation for her.
“Don’t wander off after you finish shopping.” Ding Yan pressed a small pouch of coins into her hand. “Wait for me at the tea stall.”
“Yes.”
Ding Yan followed Zhao Zhanggui away. Zhong Lingxiu felt the pouch and found her shifu had left her a few copper coins. She quickly fished one out and handed it to the stall owner. “One more marinated egg, please.”
“Coming right up.”
Zhong Lingxiu slung her bundle over her back, bit into the marinated egg, chewing as she headed for the grain and oil shop.
It was the largest store in Yunzhong Town, and even before entering she could smell the fragrance of food.
She looked around, made sure they had what she needed, and asked, “How much for salt and brown sugar?”
The shopkeeper saw her dressed in a nun’s robe and carrying a sword, recognizing her as a Disciple of Hengshan, and didn’t dare to cheat her. He bowed and replied, “Little master, ten jin of white salt is four taels, and sugar is about the same.”
Zhong Lingxiu sucked in a breath.
She knew salt was expensive in ancient times, but this was outrageous.
No wonder everyone in the Mount Heng Sect wore coarse cloth and ate rough grains—feeding several hundred mouths was no small expense.
But with so many varieties here, and the shopkeeper quoting prices straight away, he was surely trying to take advantage of her youth and inexperience.
“May I trouble you to show me the different types of salt you have in the shop?”
The shopkeeper complied, laying out several kinds: loose salt, salt bricks, and among the loose salts, some of slightly lower quality that were only half the price of the first.
Zhong Lingxiu thought for a moment and, not pretending to be shrewd, sincerely asked, “Shopkeeper, these two salts seem similar in quality—why is there such a price difference? What’s the reason?” Could it be illegal salt? Is it a crime to buy illegal salt? Maybe the martial world is more lax about such things???
She wasn’t as pretty as her junior Yilin, but her features were delicate and her manners polite—hard to dislike. The shopkeeper smiled and explained, “Little master, this is regular salt, and this is surplus salt. Surplus salt is naturally cheaper.”
“What’s surplus salt? The leftovers from salt production?”
Business was slow today, so the shopkeeper elaborated. At this time, during the Jin Dynasty, the Kai Zhong Law was in effect. Regular salt was the state-mandated production quota, but the southeastern coast’s salt production had increased, so there was a surplus—this was surplus salt.
Surplus salt was made by the salt workers themselves. Its quality was variable, but always a bit worse than regular salt, with many impurities. Ten jin cost only two taels.
Zhong Lingxiu was relieved and ordered twenty jin of surplus salt for four taels, and ten jin of brown sugar for another four taels, totaling eight taels. With the remaining two taels, she bought some oil, vinegar, and soy sauce, and asked the shopkeeper to throw in some loose rock sugar.
Altogether, it was over thirty jin of supplies, all packed neatly into a basket.
She’d practiced martial arts since childhood—though not very skilled, carrying heavy loads was no problem. She easily hoisted the basket and left.
The tea stall was packed with customers. With a mountain of goods and seven or eight bundles, she didn’t want to get in the way of business, so she found a seat in the corner, ordered a cup of plain tea, and waited.
People came and went, bowls and chopsticks clinked, and as dusk deepened, Ding Yan Shitai still hadn’t returned.
As the tea stall was about to close, and the tea was watered down to the point of tastelessness, Zhong Lingxiu sensibly gathered her things and asked, “Elder, where is the Zhao family’s cloth shop?”
“Just follow the main street, go to the paifang and turn west, then ask around—you’ll find it easily,” the stall owner replied warmly. “Little master, it’s getting late. Be careful on the road.”
“Thank you.”
Following the directions, Zhong Lingxiu found the paifang easily, and heading west, she entered Ping’an Fang. She was just about to ask a friendly-looking passerby for the exact location when a figure suddenly flashed across the rooftop.
Her eyes widened in shock. That person’s qinggong was incredible! She could only dash across rooftops at best—no way she could move with that kind of “whoosh” speed.
And what was that red glow on his body?
She hadn’t seen a Jinshouzhi’s guidance in years.
Was this an important character? The protagonist, Linghu Chong?
Before she could react, the man burst out laughing arrogantly: “You old nun, if you keep chasing me, this master won’t be so polite!”
“You Chahua Bandit!” Ding Yan Shitai pursued with her sword, gritting her teeth. “You actually dared to come back!”
“I care about Zhenniang, you know.” He laughed flirtatiously. “I couldn’t bear to let her pine for me, so I had to show myself.”
Zhong Lingxiu:
Damn!!
Tian Boguang!!
She acted on instinct, darting into a nearby house and pleading with the owner, “Auntie, I’m a Disciple of Hengshan. My shifu is chasing a criminal—could you please look after my things for a moment?”
The auntie, hearing there was a criminal about, didn’t want trouble. “Go, don’t come in.”
“I’ll be right back.” Zhong Lingxiu quickly dropped her heavy basket. “Just keep an eye on my things, I’ll draw him away.”
Hearing that, the auntie hesitated for a moment before shutting the door.
Zhong Lingxiu kept her word, leaping onto the rooftop and quickly chasing after the two.
Honestly, she knew full well she shouldn’t get involved. The best martial artists in Mount Heng Sect were Abbess Dingyi, Dingxian, and Dingjing—they could spar with the leaders of the other Five Mountains Sword Sect. Dingyan Shitai… well, she knew a bit of martial arts.
A nameless old nun from the book, facing a notorious, plot-relevant villain—there was no contest.
The rational choice was to stay out of it. But with such a gap in martial skill, her presence or absence hardly mattered. If she went, maybe she could scare him off—if he saw reinforcements, he might flee. After all, this was the foot of Mount Heng. The villain might give some face to the Five Mountains Sword Sect.
If she didn’t go, she’d be letting down Ding Yan Shitai, who had raised her, and it would go against her conscience.
So she braced herself and went.
Zhong Lingxiu steeled her nerves, but by the time she caught up, it was already too late.
Tian Boguang, annoyed by the old nun’s relentless pursuit and her constant cries of “Chahua Bandit,” was now murderous. He turned back and slashed with his saber.
Zhong Lingxiu saw the strike.
It was swift, fierce, and chilling—a blur flashed before her eyes.
And then, Ding Yan Shitai fell.
Her grey-black nun’s robes blossomed with a burst of blood. She staggered, her legs gave out, and she crashed to the ground.
Tian Boguang curled his lip in disdain and glanced in Zhong Lingxiu’s direction.
Zhong Lingxiu clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing herself flat against the eaves. The sharp tiles dug into her painfully, but she dared not move.
Tian Boguang didn’t come over to finish her off.
Just a teenage girl—since she didn’t make a fuss, he couldn’t be bothered. He pulled out a wine gourd, took a swig, and strode away.
Zhong Lingxiu waited until he was far gone before climbing down and rushing to Ding Yan Shitai’s side.
She saw that Ding Yan Shitai had taken a saber to the chest, blood pouring out. She immediately tore open the cotton robe, pulled out the inner wadding to plug the wound, and applied the Tianxiang Duanxu Jiao she always carried to stop the bleeding.
“Shifu, Shifu,” she called softly, “wake up.”
From behind the tightly closed doors, wary eyes peered out. She immediately called out, “Good people, we are Disciples of Hengshan. Please, could someone help me find a doctor for my shifu? There will be a great reward.”
Afraid they might fear Tian Boguang, she quickly added, “The villain has already fled. You won’t be dragged into this.”
Mount Heng Sect was well-known in Shanxi, and the nuns of Baiyun Nunnery often treated pilgrims, earning much goodwill. Hearing her pleas, someone finally came to help—a woman came over and helped Zhong Lingxiu lift Dingyan Shitai. “Let’s get your master inside first.”
“Thank you, auntie.”
An old man said, “I’ll go fetch a doctor for you.”
“Thank you, elder.”
With someone taking the lead, more and more people came out to help. Zhong Lingxiu thanked everyone, her heart burning with anxiety as she waited for the doctor.
Dingyan Shitai’s face was pale and gold-tinged, her palms icy, her breath barely there.
Doctors came to check her pulse, one after another, all shaking their heads.
By dawn the next day, Ding Yan Shitai passed away.
Zhong Lingxiu felt her hair stand on end.
She’d been in this world for thirteen years—life had been hard, training in martial arts was tough, but all in all, Mount Heng Sect was free of strife, peaceful and quiet—a veritable paradise.
Now, those good days were over.
All it took was a trip down the mountain for a ritual, trying to save one unfortunate girl, and she lost the shifu who had raised her for over a decade.
Just one slash.
Just one slash.
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