To cross the Yellow River, the river was frozen solid; to ascend the Taihang Mountains, snow blanketed the peaks.
The Taihang Mountains rose like colossal stone waves arching from the earth, crashing against the western frontier of Jin territory. Towering ridges stretched toward the heavens, blocking the blizzards from the north, where Xuan Yue Mountain thrust upward from the ground.
Xuan Yue Mountain lay within Datong Prefecture, a strategic stronghold in Yun State amid the Yanyun Sixteen Prefectures.
Emperor Xiaowen Tuoba Hong had once ordered a temple built on Xuan Yue Mountain as a dojo for the Celestial Master Kou Qianzhi. Later, the majestic Hanging Temple took shape there, enduring eight centuries of wind and frost. After several restorations, it became one of the world’s wonders.
Dark clouds blanketed the sky, and northern winds howled as a late autumn blizzard gathered strength.
Xiang Xian arrived alone on horseback, comparing the map marked by the monks against the landmarks. He gazed up from the ruined village below the Hanging Temple.
The village had long since turned to rubble amid years of warfare, yet in these desolate mountains, some must have hidden from the flames of war.
Xiang Xian slowed his horse and proceeded along the rugged mountain path. Midway up, the suspension bridges could no longer bear the horse’s weight. He tethered it to a tree and continued on foot. As evening dimmed the sky, he found a wind-sheltered boulder, gathered branches, and took a Golden-Red Feather from his bosom, placing it atop the pile.
The branches ignited, flames rising warmly.
Xiang Xian took dry rations from his pack, ate his evening meal, drank a few mouthfuls of strong liquor from his leather flask, and lay down with his Pei Sword as a pillow.
The north wind roared, fine snow fell, yet it avoided the space within a zhang of the campfire, as if some peculiar barrier protected it.
Xiang Xian slept as straight and orderly as his Pei Sword, hands folded across his chest.
The world held only the whistling wind and the rustling of mountain pines.
Near dawn, all sounds vanished, leaving utter silence.
In that stillness, Xiang Xian spoke.
“You’ve followed me all this way—why not come out and say hello?”
A shadow approaching him startled and retreated, but Xiang Xian moved faster. Without visible leap, his form became a gust of wind, closing in as he struck with a fist!
The stalker instinctively parried, and the two flew off the cliff into the abyss. Amid the heights, dull thuds of clashing fists and feet echoed, snowflakes around them freezing as if confined before exploding in the clash of qi!
As Xiang Xian punched, he felt the air thick with viscous force, realizing his opponent matched him and could not be underestimated. During the fall, they exchanged over twenty moves at blinding speed, plummeting faster toward the valley floor!
From a hundred-zhang cliff, as they neared a splatter of blood and flesh, Xiang Xian fired a hook lock, wrapping it around a cliffside pine. He swung through the ravine. His opponent thrust a dagger into the cliff wall, sparks ringing out.
Each buffered their descent and landed steadily.
By the faint dawn light, Xiang Xian saw his assailant’s appearance. The man wore a black-blue martial robe overlaid with simple bright-silver armor: a pauldron on the left shoulder and a diagonal breastplate.
Tall and straight, his height matched Xiang Xian’s. His features were deep and handsome, brows like those of Northern Lands Han People, eyes faintly reflecting gray-blue.
His skin was unnaturally pale, like a ghost dwelling in a tomb without sunlight, his gaze carrying a mesmerizing demonic beauty.
Meeting that stare, Xiang Xian felt a sudden dizziness, swiftly dispelled by his lifelong cultivation base.
“Brother, you’ve trailed me since I entered Datong Prefecture,” Xiang Xian said gravely. “What business do you have?”
The assailant sneered, raising his palm to reveal an item—Xiang Xian’s waist badge.
Xiang Xian’s expression changed. The blue-clad youth no longer pressed the fight and withdrew.
Xiang Xian could not let him escape. He crouched slightly and shot forward like a straight arrow. The blue-clad youth spread his arms like a soaring eagle toward the Hanging Temple, but Xiang Xian summoned a gale wherever he passed, streaking like a meteor toward the escape route.
“Don’t go!” Xiang Xian’s angry shout echoed across the mountains from the plank road.
At the Hanging Temple’s east side, before an abandoned pavilion, a boom shattered wood and tiles, revealing a stone-carved ancient Buddha.
Xiang Xian had finally blocked his path, locking down his every movement.
The blue-clad youth assumed a stance, a Tang Dao wrapped in indigo Blazing Flame appearing in his hand.
Xiang Xian faced him bare-handed. With a flex, the plank road boards shattered beneath his feet.
He surged forward. The blue-clad youth spun midair for a slash. Xiang Xian dodged the blade’s path and seized it with the Bare-Handed Blade Grab divine skill. The youth shook his wrist, sending two crisscrossing saber qi attacks. Xiang Xian leaned back to evade, then struck with a kick.
The youth blocked with the Tang Dao’s hilt before it fully returned.
A sharp aura shot forth. Xiang Xian abruptly withdrew, gliding three zhang flat. Saber qi sheared off strands of hair that drifted in the air, a red mark scoring his cheek.
After the brief clash, they separated again, each atop a broken pillar at the Hanging Temple’s western edge. The blue-clad youth gripped his Tang Dao two-handed; Xiang Xian spun a jade pendant on his index finger and smiled at him.
It was an exquisitely carved Dragon-Shaped Jade Pendant, crystalline and translucent, with faint blue light flickering inside.
The blue-clad youth: “…”
“Exchanging tokens?” Xiang Xian said. “Let me see what else you carry.”
Xiang Xian sat cross-legged on the pillar top and shook the small waist pouch he’d taken from the youth, beginning to inspect his spoils.
The blue-clad youth: “………………”
The pouch held the man’s personal items and some letters. Xiang Xian was measured and did not rashly open them.
He pulled out a map of the Taihang Mountains, an ancient medicine bottle, some loose silver, and an Amber Square Seal.
“Xiao what?” Xiang Xian stamped the seal on his hand. “Xiao Kun? Oh? You’re Xiao Kun?”
Xiang Xian turned the man’s belongings inside out. The blue-clad youth named Xiao Kun could endure no more. With an angry roar, his Tang Dao flared blue Blazing Flame and charged!
“Hey! What’s this birth paper?” Xiang Xian had not finished rummaging when thunderous golden clamor erupted—Xiao Kun’s assault was upon him. Xiang Xian hastily bundled the spoils in a cloth package and rose to meet it.
Hanging Temple pillars snapped with massive cracks. Plank roads on both sides disintegrated into flying debris. Dark clouds gathered, thunder roared, hurling spinning ice crystals and projectiles that tracked Xiang Xian.
Xiang Xian had thoroughly enraged his foe. He knew he must bring his true skills or the rampaging youth would collapse the entire Hanging Temple under that ferocious qi.
Under the youth’s storm of attacks, Xiang Xian retreated repeatedly, reached back, unslung his Pei Sword—but did not draw it, holding sword and sheath horizontally before him.
Xiang Xian flourished a sword flower and closed in. Xiao Kun stood firm, his Tang Dao whipping up a flash like moonlight under the dim sky, aiming for Xiang Xian’s throat.
Xiang Xian drew!
