Chapter 94: How high is a master?

Feng Yi had long planned to go to Mongolia to spread poison and create a plague, but though it sounds easy, actually doing it is full of difficulties.

He knew neither the routes nor how many water sources dotted the grasslands. Too little would be useless, yet he could not dump it indiscriminately, since plague spares no one.

Thus it could not be done by one person alone; he needed the Beggars' Sect and a tight plan. Help from Beggars' Sect disciples who had once accompanied Guo Jing and Huang Rong on their western expedition would achieve twice the result with half the effort.

He had planned to cause an uproar in Guanzhong, make a name, then wait for the Heroes' Gathering to confer with Guo Jing and Huang Rong; he never imagined that in the vast jianghu he could also wear out his iron shoes searching in vain, yet succeed without effort.

He knew Guo Jing would never consent to such a heaven‑harming act, but he still had a backup plan.

Since a gentleman can be tricked with straightforward tactics, enemies can use it—so why couldn't Feng Yi?

Besides, the Guo family's fate is tied to Xiangyang, and that does not alter Mongolia's hold on the Central Plains; he might as well try his own scheme.

Having just raced Huang Yaoshi on foot, covering over thirty li in one go, Feng Yi naturally did not sprint back.

He wove between trees and stones, reached a woods where dense shade blotted out the moon, shifting shadows, endless eerie cries like owls or cold crows, as if monsters lurked.

Though Feng Yi was highly skilled and bold, a sudden mournful whisper reached his ears and made him shudder.

Curious, he followed the sound and saw a green‑clad woman holding a jade flute, walking and playing; his deep inner power let him instantly recognize her as Cheng Ying.

Seeing her martial arts were not lacking, Feng Yi found the jade flute's music equally beautiful.

Given Huang Yaoshi's and Feng Yi's lightning qinggong, how could Cheng Ying keep up? In the dead of night her sight failed, and she soon lost them.

She could only walk and play the flute, waiting for her master to hear and send a mental message.

Cheng Ying was playing with downcast eyes when a breeze stirred her robes behind her; she startled, halted the flute and was about to strike, when a voice at her ear said, 'Don't fear, it's me!'

Cheng Ying turned and saw Feng Yi standing under a tree several zhang away, regarding her with a half‑smile.

Knowing he had spoken at her ear, she instantly stepped back, admiring his lightness, and said lightly, 'Oh, it's you. Where's my master?'

Feng Yi replied, 'She met her daughter and son‑in‑law; they probably need to talk.'

Cheng Ying happily said, 'That's good!' Then she turned and walked away.

'Miss Cheng,' Feng Yi said with a wry smile, 'don't you want to know what happened?'

He also did not know why she fled at the sight of him, though he certainly did not eat people.

Cheng Ying murmured, 'My master sent me to remind you—he clearly bears you no ill will. Knowing that, and not being an ignorant brute, how could you be his enemy?'

'You're just excited at the prospect of a match, wanting to test your martial arts.'

Feng Yi laughed, 'Then you don't even ask who wins or loses?'

Cheng Ying replied, 'Nothing to ask. If you win, I don't want to know; if my master wins, he's a famed senior of the martial world—so it's only natural, nothing to boast about, why ask?'

Feng Yi nodded, 'You are quite perceptive.'

He sat, pointed to a stone opposite, and said, 'Miss Cheng, your flute is truly lovely; today we part, not knowing when we'll meet again—may I ask you to play another piece?'

Cheng Ying hesitated a moment, then said, 'All right.'

Feng Yi struck a firesteel, lit a bonfire that lit the area; Cheng Ying sat beneath the tree, jade flute in hand, and began to play softly.

She played 'Welcoming the Immortal Guest,' a host‑guest courtesy piece whose stately, reverent melody receives honored guests.

Feng Yi sat poking the fire, silent.

Though he did not know the melody, the Divine Illumination Sutra's wonder cultivates a divine sense that lets him sense her intent.

Aware that she meant to hide her heart, playing this tune felt like completing a task.

In a flash, Feng Yi lost all thought—even curiosity about how beautiful her face might be behind the mask faded.

When the piece finished, Feng Yi rose, bowed and said, 'Thank you, Miss Cheng; we'll meet again!' As he stepped forward, she stood straight and asked, 'What's wrong? Do you think my playing is bad?'

Feng Yi smiled, 'No, it's not that—you wear a mask on your face and in your heart. I'd rather stay aware and tactful, lest I annoy people.'

Cheng Ying stayed silent, but as Feng Yi's figure was about to vanish she called, 'Master Feng, I have a question—may I trouble you?'

'What?'

Cheng Ying whispered, 'Is the woman beside you a disciple of Li Mochou?'

Feng Yi startled, halted and turned, bewildered: 'How do you know?'

Cheng Ying pressed her lips and said, 'Five years ago she came to my uncle's house to kill; I saw her!'

Feng Yi's heart jumped; in an instant he understood everything.

Why, upon seeing him, Cheng Ying did not just hide or flee but looked weighed down by worry.

Although Feng Yi knew Li Mochou had slain the Lu family, Hong Lingbo had not—otherwise how could she be so close to Lu Wushuang?

Had he misremembered? Feng Yi thought this, walked over, sat again, and sighed, 'Miss Cheng, what's going on? Who are you really? Please tell me, and who is your maternal uncle?'

Cheng Ying said sorrowfully, 'I am Cheng Ying; my maternal uncle is Lu Liding, master of the Jiangnan Lu Manor; my cousin is Lu Wushuang.'

Feng Yi nodded, 'I know about the Lu Manor and Li Mochou, but it seems Hong Lingbo didn't kill the Lu family.'

Cheng Ying saw his astonished look and smiled, 'Don't overthink it—she came to my uncle's house on her master's orders, harmed no one, and was repulsed by Madam Wu. I only want to ask her what became of my cousin taken by Li Mochou.'

It turned out Cheng Ying and Lu Wushuang were maternal cousins; Cheng Ying was the daughter of Lu Liding's brother‑in‑law, and her parents had entrusted her to him before they died.

Hong Lingbo went to the Lu residence on Li Mochou's orders to kill, but was driven back by Wu Santong's wife.

Later Li Mochou herself struck, killing Lu Liding and his wife; when she turned on Cheng Ying and Lu Wushuang she saw the silk kerchief Cheng Ying had once given to Lu Zhanyuan, bound to both, felt pity and tried to take the two girls; Cheng Ying was rescued by Huang Yaoshi, but Lu Wushuang was taken by Li Mochou, her fate unknown.

Having attained some martial skill, Cheng Ying set out to find her cousin.

Seeing Hong Lingbo today made her feel familiar; on reflection, wasn't this the girl who that day wore a yellow Taoist robe, carried a long sword, stood on the Lu residence roof, and claimed to be acting on Li Mochou's orders as a little Taoist nun?

Cheng Ying now wanted to know whether her cousin Lu Wushuang was dead or alive.

They sat by the fire, one speaking, the other listening.

Cheng Ying spoke gently, her voice soft and melodious, and tears began to flow as she talked.

Feng Yi sensed her grief, yet wondered how this utterly frail girl could resemble a disciple of Old Heretic Huang.

Because Cheng Ying is clever, recall how Lu Liding, on his deathbed, meant to give her the life‑saving silk kerchief, ignoring his own daughter; his sister‑in‑law, deeply devoted to her nephew, saw her husband neglect his child and fainted from distress.

She constantly recalled that scene; in the face of dire peril her uncle's conduct showed benevolence and righteousness—how could she not feel grateful? Now her cousin's fate is unknown, she has followed a renowned master for years yet her martial arts remain weak; when will she avenge her uncle's family? Grieving, she heard Feng Yi say, 'Miss Cheng, your cousin is still alive and has mastered superb martial arts.'

Cheng Ying's face lit with joy; she stood and said, 'Really? You're not deceiving me?'

Feng Yi said, "She was sought by Lingbo, who had Li Mochou take her as a disciple! Although I often cheat people, I only cheat enemies—I would never cheat you!"

Cheng Ying gave him a deep look, then suddenly smiled and said, "Have you and Hong Lingbo become husband and wife?"

Feng Yi fell silent involuntarily—how to say this? They were married, but in fact they were not.

They hadn't formally married, yet they had the reality of a husband and wife.

However you put it, it's unfair to Hong Lingbo.

Cheng Ying said coldly, "Hong Lingbo was only a teenager back then, with no grudge against my Lu family; whether she became your wife or not, I, as a young lady, have no right to comment."

But Li Mochou is her master; if you're involved with her disciple, would you also help her? I need to clarify this first, otherwise one day we might become enemies over this, which would be bad.

"Miss Cheng," Feng Yi sighed lightly, "Li Mochou expelled Hong Lingbo from her school, so whether you seek revenge on Li Mochou or others, it has nothing to do with me. How could I help her?"

Cheng Ying nodded.

Feng Yi gave a wry smile and said, "Miss Cheng, if you truly want to take revenge on Li Mochou, you still need to train your martial arts for several more years, and you must not act rashly."

He knew Li Mochou's inheritance was extraordinary, her martial arts formidable; although her internal strength had been greatly damaged, it was still beyond ordinary people.

Moreover, she now possesses Chongyang's legacy inscriptions; who knows where she is cultivating? Once she emerges from seclusion, aside from those of the Five Absolutes' caliber, no one could dare claim they could kill her. She promised herself not to kill, but that does not mean she would not kill those who seek to kill her for revenge.

Cheng Ying snorted, slammed her jade flute hard, sending sparks flying, and thought, "He's right—given my current martial arts, how could I ever match Li Mochou?"

Feng Yi sensed her anger; this anger was both toward Li Mochou's cruelty and toward her own inadequacy.

Cheng Ying recalled that even the combined forces of Wu Santong, a top disciple of Master Yideng, and the Flying Bat Ke Zhen'e were no match for Li Mochou.

So many years have passed; who knows how much her martial arts have improved? In this lifetime, she probably won't get that chance.

Cheng Ying secretly felt disheartened, and without realizing it, she pressed the holes and blew the flute again.

The flute's wailing, lingering notes were bleak and desolate; in the quiet night, birdcalls fell silent, leaving only the flute filling the air.

Huang Yaoshi was not only a grand master of martial arts of his generation, but also versed in the Way of Music. He incorporated musical theory into internal energy, composing a piece titled "Azure Sea Tide Rising Melody"; its melody stirs the qi and blood, giving rise to a marvelous sentiment that sways the soul and spirit.

Cheng Ying's internal skill naturally cannot compare with Huang Yaoshi's, yet when she played, it seemed to let listeners' hearts follow the melody, the flute's sound gradually fading to silence.

After Cheng Ying finished playing, weariness washed over her like a tide, and she actually leaned against the tree trunk and fell into a deep sleep.

Feng Yi's chest also churned like a stormy sea: "Yes, Hong Lingbo is ultimately Li Mochou's disciple; having her, which respectable woman in the world could accept me?"

Thinking of this, Feng Yi finally began to face himself, thinking: "Ah, Feng Yi, you damn it, your essence is just a scumbag! Holding what's in the bowl while eyeing what's in the pot."

"In your past life you had no opportunity, no ability! Now that you've gained a bit of talent, you get cocky, constantly wavering—indeed, you're no match for Lu Zhanyuan!"

Feng Yi heard Cheng Ying silent for a long time, turned his head and saw she had already fallen asleep, thinking: "She must have been following Huang Yaoshi lately, also needing to shadow us, gather information, and give me advance notice; today knowing my cousin's situation has lifted half of her worries, leaving her exhausted." Feng Yi naturally couldn't just leave, so he sat by the fire for a while,

The campfire crackled, and he too grew drowsy, beginning to doze.

Time drifted slowly; in his daze, he heard a rustling of footsteps.

Feng Yi jerked awake, opened his eyes, and saw it was already broad daylight, illuminating a pile of gray-white ashes; Cheng Ying had vanished without a trace.

Feng Yi had originally wanted to take a look at her appearance, but this inevitably left him a little disappointed; he sighed, shook his head, and prepared to meet up with Hong Lingbo and head to Guanzhong.

Suddenly he heard Cheng Ying's soft voice: "Early in the morning, why sigh and lament?"

Feng Yi turned his head and saw she was dressed in plain blue clothes, her face still covered; their eyes met, and both felt a surge of emotion.

Feng Yi smiled and said, "I thought I would never see you again."

Cheng Ying gazed at him, not knowing what to say.

As her master would say, this person is neither proper nor improper, neither evil nor good—always hard to read. After a moment of silence, she softly sighed, "If that day ever comes, it will be forced by circumstance, leaving no choice."

"Well said!" Feng Yi sighed deeply.

Cheng Ying took out a gauze-wrapped bundle from her clothing sack; when she opened it, a wheat fragrance wafted out—it was a few white flour steamed buns. She handed them to Feng Yi and said, "I just went to fetch some water!"

She then poured clear water from the kettle and shared it with Feng Yi.

Feng Yi took the buns and water, stared for a moment, then began to eat.

He already thought Cheng Ying's blue robe was exquisitely tailored, fitting her perfectly; wearing it accentuated her slender, graceful figure—this simple outfit far surpassed fine silk and embroidery, and it must have been made by her own hands.

These buns, kettle, and so on were all arranged properly; everywhere showed her meticulous care. He silently sighed, "Such a good girl, yet in the end she is destined to a life of loneliness."

He knew that having Hong Lingbo made him unworthy of Cheng Ying.

In the original story, Yang Guo, having Xiao Longnv, naturally only caused people heartache.

He suddenly felt that it seemed good people in the world never have good endings! Seeing Feng Yi's brow unfurrowed, Cheng Ying couldn't help but say, "Don't like the taste? Have a bite first—we're still more than ten li from the town."

Feng Yi swallowed a mouthful of bun and couldn't help but sigh, "This is already great—I'm not picky, I'm just thinking that someday a girl like you will end up cheap for some brat."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt it inappropriate to joke with such a proper young lady, and felt a bit embarrassed.

Cheng Ying wanted to speak but held back; suddenly a sharp cry came from the sky, and looking up she saw a huge white vulture circling in the distant heavens.

Feng Yi frowned and said, "Looks like there's going to be some excitement."

Cheng Ying said, "Just now, while fetching water, I heard that a martial-arts master was passing by."

Feng Yi rejoiced, "A master? How high-level?"

Cheng Ying's face flushed; she thought, "About the same as me!"

Feng Yi suddenly said, "Let's go take a look!"

Saying this, he grabbed Cheng Ying's little hand and they ran off.

His movements were swift; soon he rounded a ridge, only to hear ahead a few "ding-ding" clashes of metal and the shouts of a fierce battle,

Feng Yi focused his hearing; several people were engaged in combat, and from the sound none of them were amateurs.

Cheng Ying, held by his hand, several times wanted to urge him to let go, but she dared not speak, fearing that if she did, Feng Yi would feel ashamed and their bond would break.

At this moment Feng Yi wasn't thinking much; he just found her slow. In the distance they saw deep white clouds, towering mountains piercing the sky, ancient pines on the slopes wailing in the wind, wave after wave surging like a vast sea.

With a broad mind, Feng Yi reached the mountain base, where a flat area was crowded with over thirty people standing densely; suddenly the formation shouted in unison a cheer.

Cheng Ying tugged Feng Yi's sleeve and whispered, "The other side is numerous and strong; let's first take a look."

Feng Yi saw that here there were many rocks and few trees, the craggy stones jutting out; he led Cheng Ying around the ridge, climbing to the cliff's top to look down.

Cheng Ying endured for a while before bursting out, "Can you let go of my hand…" but then she couldn't continue, her heart filled with mixed feelings.

Feng Yi only then realized, hastily let go, and embarrassedly said: "Miss Cheng, sorry."

Cheng Ying said: "If you don't help Li Mochou in the future, that will be enough to make it up to me."

Feng Yi laughed: "That definitely won't happen."

Cheng Ying laughed: "You're so dishonest, no wonder you could trick a Daoist nun into returning to secular life!"

Feng Yi anxiously said: "How could mutual affection be considered deceit?"

Cheng Ying snorted, then looked down.

Feng Yi also looked down and saw that among the thirty-plus people, many had distinctive appearances—some with high noses and bristly beards, some with curly hair and deep-set eyes, not Central Plains folk, yet each looked fierce and vigorous, clearly versed in both internal and external training.

They formed a circle, surrounding the two men in the middle.

Inside the arena, two people were fighting fiercely.

One was dressed in Western Regions attire, wielding a sabre; its light was like a startled wind blowing snow, floating and unmatched—indeed a rare sabre master,

the other a youngster holding a long sword, wearing a purplish sauce-colored robe, waist tied with an embroidered silk sash, expression fierce, every move full of spirit.

A few spots of fresh blood spattered his cheek; he held a long sword, his moves simple yet often able to spot openings in the snow-like sabre light, attacking to defend; though the opponent's sabre was fast, for a moment it could not overcome him.

Cheng Ying wondered: "Are they them?"

Feng Yi asked: "Do you know them?"

Cheng Ying said: "The one fighting with the long sword is called Wen Dunru, the one sitting on the ground is Wu Xiuwen; they are two brothers, and I saw them at my aunt's husband's house when we were young."

Feng Yi gave an "oh", then said: "No wonder then."

Feng Yi saw Wu Xiuwen wearing a treasure-blue robe, sitting on the ground, eyebrows raised and eyes glaring, a bloodstain on his leg, obviously injured, his gaze fixed on his brother, looking quite tense.

This crowd, thinking it rare to meet such an opponent, watched excitedly, pointing and commenting; one Han-dressed man laughed: "Old Brother Ma, you still can't win after this while—why not rest a bit and let me take him on?"

The Western Regions man snorted angrily, his sabre technique tightening; yet when his sabre sped up, an opening appeared,

With a clang, Wen Dunru's long sword blocked the sabre, his eyes sharp and hands quick, he grabbed the man's arm, pulled hard sideways half a foot, kicked up, striking squarely in the opponent's abdomen,

the Western Regions man spat blood, flew backward, yet flung his sabre like a lightning throw; with a "puff", it sank into Wen Dunru's shoulder, whereupon he gave a muffled grunt and stepped back.

The Western Regions man, kicked in a vital point, half-knelt on the ground; famed for his sabre in the Western Regions, he never expected to suffer a loss at the hands of a youth today, feeling both shocked and admiring, he spoke in stiff Han language: "Who are you?"

Wen Dunru drew backhand the sabre from his shoulder, gave a slight cold smile, and said: "I am the chief disciple of the great hero Guo, Wen Dunru!"

Seeing him let blood pour from his shoulder without frowning or changing expression, already astonished, upon hearing his self-introduction they all gasped and retreated several feet, their faces showing fear.

Suddenly a long whistle came from afar, grand and resounding, making the mountains echo; then followed a clear, high-pitched whistle.

The two whistles intertwined, like a great roc and a small bird flying side by side, rising higher and higher, the small bird never falling behind the roc.

Even though these twin whistles came from several li away, they still carried the might of soaring to the ninth heaven.

Cheng Ying exclaimed in alarm: "I think I've heard these two's whistles before."

Feng Yi said: "Guo Jing and Huang Rong will arrive shortly."

Suddenly we heard two people laugh together with a strange-sounding ha-ha.

Feng Yi then saw the others retreat while these two stepped forward; he saw a person dressed like a noble young master, floating forward, giving a slight smile: "I've never heard your name. Though Guo Jing's martial arts are superb, making him the foremost master of the Central Plains, his disciples are nevertheless pus-filled sacks."

"You brat dare come here and ruin my business—do you not know who this prince is?" His accent was impure, clearly not a Central Plains person.

He was seen wearing a light yellow brocade robe, holding a folding fan, about thirty years old, his face bearing an arrogant and fierce expression.

The other wore a red robe, wore a gold crown, appeared emaciated, a middle-aged Tibetan monk.

Cheng Ying saw that these two had a solemn demeanor, unlike the other foes; recalling her master's words, she said: "These two must be the two disciples of the Golden Wheel National Master."

Feng Yi gave an affirmative hum.

Wen Dunru chuckled and said: "I naturally know who you are—you're not Huo Du, are you? You Mongol bandits stole my martial sister's horse; if I didn't intervene, where would heavenly principle lie?"

"Well said." Huo Du slapped his fan and laughed loudly: "It seems this prince's reputation is not small. However, youngster of the Wu family, you clearly know who I am yet speak so boldly—aren't you afraid of death?"

Wen Dunru raised his thick brows, coldly said: "Even if the nation and ethnicity suffer hardship, what is my brother's and my body to begrudge? Just bring it on!"

Wu Xiuwen also propped himself up, pointed his long sword at Huo Du, and shouted loudly: "Who among you dares to come up next?"

Wen Dunru patted his shoulder: "Your legs are inconvenient; let me handle this round."

Wu Xiuwen's face flushed with shame and anger, but the situation now does not allow him to fight further; he can only limp away to the side.

Huo Du chuckled: "At such a young age, what do you know about national calamity?"

Wen Dunru sneered: "Cut the nonsense—come up and receive instruction!"

Huo Du burst into loud laughter: "Even your master made an agreement with me—where do you get such audacity! Haha..."

Everyone, whether they understood or not, joined in the laughter.

(End of chapter)