Chapter 1 – A Solitary Box (1/2)

A solitary person, a solitary box.

A quiet, ordinary person, carrying an old-fashioned, ordinary box. As the sun set, this person quietly entered the ancient city of Chang’an.

Part 1

The fifteenth day of the first month of the lunar calendar.

Chang’an. (1)

Zhuo Donglai shut the door, closing out the wind and snow that for a thousand years had been a part of the ancient city of Chang’an. (2) He took off his violet, sable-fur coat and hung it on the violet-red sandalwood coat hanger propped to his left. In his right hand he held a set of violet-red copper tongs, which he used to stoke the fire in the violet-red copper brazier in front of him, a brazier which was never extinguished.

Next to the brazier was a violet-red sandalwood chair, over which was draped a fur of violet-red sable. Next to the chair was a violet-red sandalwood table, upon which was a violet crystal bottle, filled with Persian red wine.

It only took two steps to reach the table, upon which he could at leisure pour himself a cup of wine.

He liked the color violet. (3)

He liked famous race horses, beautiful women, luxurious clothes, and good wine. He liked to enjoy himself.

He was extremely particular and picky, and always planned everything meticulously. He was never willing to waste even the slightest amount of energy, and was also never careless. He didn’t even make exceptions for small everyday matters of life.

This was Zhuo Donglai.

Perhaps it was because he was this type of person that he had managed to stay alive to this day,

He sat down and took a sip of wine.

The warmth of the luxurious and beautiful room, the fragrant, sweet wine, had already driven the cold from his body. He suddenly felt very tired.

The past two days of preparation for tonight’s grand ceremony had already thrown his normal routines into chaos.

He definitely could not allow any mistakes. Even the smallest mistake could lead to a larger blunder, a blunder which might never be remedied. And if that happened, not only would he feel guilty for the rest of his life; his master would also be implicated. In fact, it could even affect all Jianghu.

The most important thing was that he could not allow Sima Chaoqun’s life or reputation to be harmed in any way, especially now, at the peak of his success. (4)

A person like him, who had worked so hard to become an idol to the heroes of Jianghu, must succeed in every undertaking, must never fail.

There were two things in life that Zhuo Donglai could not tolerate: mistakes and failure.

**

Sima Chaoqun was already undefeatable.

He rose to prominence in Jianghu at the age of eighteen. Throughout his thirty-three major battles, he had never once been defeated.

He was tall, strong and handsome, with a mighty and bold disposition. His rugged face always carried a bright smile. Even his enemies could not deny that he was a unique man, and there would never be a shortage of beautiful women willing to accompany him. And yet, he was completely faithful not only to his wife, but also to his children and his friends. Not once had he been involved in any sort of scandal.

He was extremely proud of this.

However, what was most worthy of pride in his life was what he had accomplished in the past two years. Using all of his martial arts ability, wisdom, good character and forthright work ethic, had traveled the road between Heshuo in the Central plains (5), all the way to Northeast China, persuading 39 of the greatest heroes and bandits to join him. Rising from the depths of the underworld to the pinnacle of righteousness, he had organized a never-before seen Great Protection Agency. For reasonable rates, they protected any trader or traveler in the region.

No mishap had every befallen anyone who stood under the protection of their violet-bordered satin banner, emblazoned upon which was the character “Great.”

This was an unprecedented, glorious achievement in the world of Jianghu. And it was something that could not be achieved using iron and blood alone.

**

Sima Chaoqun was currently thirty-six years of age, and he could already be considered an idol to the heroes of Jianghu – An invicible heroic idol.

Only he and Zhuodonglai knew what it truly took to attain this position.

Part 2

After finishing his first cup of wine, Zhuo Donglai once more thought through the plan for the night’s grand ceremony, from start to finish.

He always drank slowly, but thought extremely quickly.

Today was the first time ever that Sima Chaoqun would accept a personal disciple. From whosever perspective you looked at it, this matter would cause a huge sensation in Jianghu.

The most shocking part of it all was that Sima Chaoqun’s first disciple was Yang Jian, who had just one month ago betrayed the “Central Plains Lion Clan.” (6)

Among the forty groups of heroes who occupied the northern roads, the Lion Clan was the only one who refused to join Sima Chaoqun’s alliance. They were also the largest and most powerful of the clans.

Yang Jian had been one of the four most trusted lieutenants of the Lion Clan Leader, Mr. Zhu.

No one in Jianghu would ever have imagined that Yang Jian would betray the Lion Clan. But everyone knew that the day after Yang Jian left the clan, “Fierce Lion” Zhu Meng had sent messages throughout the martial world, expressing his opinion.

—No matter the sect, school or clan, anyone who gave haven to Yang Jian was an enemy of the Lion Clan, and would receive full and unequivocal retribution.

And now, Sima Chaoqun was not only giving him haven, he was opening the doors wide, lighting incense, and accepting him as a disciple.

**

Even though the Lion Clan had not joined Sima Chaoqun’s “Great Protection Agency,” they had also not opposed him, let alone attempted to overthrow him. (7)

“Fierce Lion” Zhu Meng was sinister, fierce, and cold-blooded. He was not the type of person to trifle with, and when he made a promise, he kept it. If he made it known that he would fight dirty in order to win, then he would use any and all methods to secure victory.

In fact, in order to achieve his goals, he wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice the heads of his 3,800 subordinates and disciples.

What he cherished most in life was a woman named Die Wu. (8)

Die Wu was beautiful, and her dancing even more beautiful.

The man who comprehended the beauty of women more than anyone in the world, the Marquis Di Qinglin, once had an opportunity to watch her dance before he passed away. He was left speechless. Later, others would ask him how he felt about her dancing, and after a very long time he would sigh and say, “I can’t say. I’ve never seen a mortal person with such legs, never imagined that they could even exist.”

**

Everyone in Jianghu was convinced that no matter the circumstances, Zhu Meng would never let Yang Jian off.

Even if he held off on moving against Sima Chaoqun, he would definitely kill Yang Jian.

Zhuo Donglai disagreed.

He believed that no matter the situation, Zhu Meng wouldn’t touch a hair on Yang Jian’s head.

He was convinced.

**

The grand ceremony would be public. Those who received invitation cards could enter the inner chamber as Sima Chaoqun’s personal guests. Those without invitation cards could congregate in the outer courtyard to observe.

Among the disciples of the Lion Clan, there were many who had survived hundreds of battles and killed countless enemies.

In Jianghu, there were many professional assassins who could kill well-protected targets in the twinkling of an eye. Any of these people could show up, blend into the crowd, and wait for an opportunity to kill Yang Jian.

Throughout the course of the grand ceremony, there would be many such opportunities.

But Zhuo Donglai believed that the ceremony would be completed smoothly, and that not a hair on Yang Jian’s head would be harmed.

The reason was that he had calculated every possible situation and circumstance; every person who could possibly pose a threat to Yang Jian was under his surveillance.

In preparation, he had already dispatched 186 top-notch masters from the “Northern Roads 39 Great Protection Agencies,” each of whom could easily handle 27 or 28 opponents.

Zhuo Donglai had split them into eight groups, each of whom would take responsibility for a different area.

But one of the groups he set aside especially to deal with three people.

**

“Which three people?”

That morning, Sima Chaoqun had asked Zhuo Donglai, “Why do you need a whole group to deal with them?”

Zhuo Donglai only needed to speak the names of two of the people to answer the question.

“Because of the three people, one is Han Zhang and the other is the Wooden Chicken.” (9)

At the moment, Sima Chaoqun was eating.

He was a strapping man, and needed lots of rich food to maintain his vigorous physique.

His breakfast this morning was a beef loin that weighed about three pounds, along with ten eggs and a huge helping of fruits and vegetables.

The beef was slow roasted over charcoal, covered with spices and juicy sauce, and was extremely tender.

This was one of his favorite foods, but as soon as he heard these two names, he dropped the curved Persian knife he was using to cut the meat. He stared at Zhuo Donglai with eyes as sharp as knives.

“Han Zhang and the Wooden Chicken are both here?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen them before?”

“I haven’t.” Zhuo Donglai calmly continued, “I’m sure no one here has ever seen them.”

Most people in Jianghu had heard of them, but few had ever seen them.

Han Zhang was the same as Yang Jian. He was a lieutenant of the “Fierce Lion,” one of his most trusted followers, and also one of the most dangerous.

Zhu Meng rarely let him leave his side.

The Wooden Chicken was even more dangerous than Han Zhang.

He had no home and no permanent residence. He had no set pattern of life, and therefore, was impossible to find.

But if someone needed him, and he believed that he needed that person, he would suddenly appear.

What he normally required of others was pearls, jewels, gold or huge amounts of bank notes.

What others normally required of him were his flying noose and his two blades.

One long blade, one short blade.

He used a blade to cut peoples’ throats as gently and skillfully as a farmer cutting crops with a sickle.

When he killed people with his noose, it was just like a dainty playboy placing a string of pearls around the neck of a lover.

Of course, he required payment, and if the payment you offered was not sufficient, he wouldn’t kill an ant for you, even if you knelt on the ground and begged.

Whoever it was that required his services, they must first offer a sufficient payment. There was only one person who was an exception, because he owed this person his life.

And that person was Zhu Meng.

**

The curved knife, its hilt encrusted with jasper, lay on the wooden tray. The blade was covered with meat juices.

Sima Chaoqun used a delicate piece of silk to rub the blade clean until it shone. When he was finished, he asked Zhuo Donglai, “You’ve never seen them, how do you know they are here?”

“I know,” he said coolly. “I know because I know.”

Did this qualify as an answer? This type of answer wasn’t an answer at all. No one would be satisfied with this response.

And yet Sima Chaoqun was satisfied.

Because it was uttered by Zhuo Donglai, and he trusted Zhuo Donglai’s judgement, as much as he trusted that the knife on the wooden tray could cut meat.

And yet his eyes suddenly shone with a strange expression. And then he said something very strange.

“A mistake!” he said. “This time, Zhu Meng made a mistake!”

“Why?”

“Han Zhang and the Wooden Chicken are already here?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Zhuo Donglai.

“Can they leave with their lives?”

“No.”

“Are they useful to Zhu Meng?”

“They are.”

“Would I send two useful people to their deaths?” Sima asked Zhuo Donglai. “Well, would I?”

“No.”

Sima laughed. “So, Zhu Meng made a mistake.”

Zhuo Donglai didn’t laugh. He waited until Sima was finished, then slowly said, “Zhu Meng didn’t make a mistake.”

“Oh?”

“He didn’t dispatch them here to send them to their deaths.”

“Then what did he send them here to do?”

“To be a front,” said Zhuo Donglai. “Han Zhang and the Wooden Chicken are just a front.”

“Why?”

“The person sent to assassinate Yang Jian is neither of the two. It’s someone else. If we only take precautions against them, then the third person will have a much easier time making a move.”

“Who is the third person?”

“It’s a young man. He wears clothes of homespun cloth and carries a sword. He’s staying in a cheap little inn, and for every meal he eats a bowl of noodles with boiled cabbage.(10) He’s been here for three days, but he’s never left his room other than to eat.”

“He locks himself in a bug-ridden room doing what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he from?”

“I don’t know.”

“What sword skill has he studied? Is his sword skill high or low?”

“I don’t know.”

Sima Chaoqun’s pupils constricted.

He and Zhuo Donglai had been friends for twenty years. From the distressed and impoverished muck, they had clawed their way up to their current position. No one understood him better than Zhuo Donglai, and no one understood Zhuo Donglai better than him.

And yet he never imagined that he would hear the three words “I don’t know,” come from Zhuo Donglai’s mouth.

When Zhuo Donglai wanted to investigate a person, he needed at the most 6 to 10 hours to uncover that person’s origin, family circumstances, habits, hobbies, martial arts affiliations, most recent whereabouts, and current destination. He could find out everything. Not only was he extremely experienced in this type of matter, he had many different methods, many special methods, each of which was very effective.

Sima Chaoqun knew all about these methods.

“He’s staying in a cheap inn,” said Sima Chaoqun, “and he wears clothing made from coarse materials. He eats noodles with boiled cabbage. From these facts you can at least see that he is not a very successful person. He must not come from a very good family.”

“It would seem that way,” said Zhuo Donglai, “but this young man is an exception.”

“Why?”

“Because of his bearing. When I saw him, even though he was in a little shop eating boiled cabbage noodles with a bunch of coolies and rickshaw drivers, he seemed as if he had just placed first in the Imperial Examinations and was feasting with the Emperor. Even though he was only wearing clothing made from homespun cloth, it seemed as if he was wearing a marten coat worth a thousand pieces of gold.”

“Maybe he was purposely puffing himself up.”

“This kind of attitude cannot be feigned. Only someone who is completely confident in themselves can have this kind of bearing. I’ve never seen someone so confident.”

Sima Chaoqun’s eyes shone. It seemed he was very interested in this young person.

Zhuo Donglai continued, “The name he used at the little inn was ‘Li Huicheng,’ but it’s definitely fake.”

“How do you know it’s fake?”

“Because I saw the name he wrote at the sales counter. He wrote it himself, and correctly, but very stiffly. When a person who can write characters signs their own name, it shouldn’t be so stiff and unnatural.”

“When he speaks, what kind of accent does he have?”

“I didn’t hear him speak, but I asked the innkeeper.”

“What did the innkeeper say?”

“The innkeeper used to work for a protection agency, and has been to a lot of places. In fact, he can speak the dialects of seven or eight different provinces. But even he couldn’t tell where this Mr. Li is from.”

“Why not?”

“Because this Mr. Li can speak the dialects of those seven or eight provinces even better than the innkeeper.”

“What about his clothing?”

You can tell a lot about a person from the clothes they wear.

All clothing is made from different materials. Even homespun cloth has many different types. Different areas have different methods of dying and weaving, as well as yarn production.

Zhuo Donglai was also an expert in these types of matters.

“I’m sure you saw his clothes,” said Sima Chaoqun. “What could you tell?”

“I couldn’t tell anything. I’ve never seen that type of cloth. I’ve never even seen the type of thread used to sew the clothing. I’m sure that he spun the thread himself, wove the cloth himself, and sewed the clothing himself. Even the cotton was probably grown by himself somewhere. Somewhere that neither you nor I have ever been to.”

The two of them had set out together in the beginning, and had adventured throughout China.

Sima Chaoqun laughed bitterly. “We’ve been almost everywhere.” (11)

“I also didn’t see his sword,” said Zhuo Donglai. “His sword was wrapped up in cloth, and always at his side.”

“The cloth the sword was wrapped in, was it the same cloth that his clothing was made from?”

“Exactly the same.”

Sima Chaoqun suddenly laughed. “It seems this Mr. Li really is an eccentric. If it turns out that he’s here to kill me, then tonight should be really enjoyable.”

Part 3

Dusk.

Inside the little restaurant, the fragrances of lard and stir-fry, the sweat of coolies and rickshaw drivers, the odor of hard liquor, hot peppers, leeks and garlic, all mixed together to create a strange, hard-to-describe smell.

Little Gao liked this smell.

He liked the smell of clouds floating past a mountain peak, and the delicate fragrance a cold wind passing through trees and leaves. And yet, he also liked this smell.

He liked the smell of noble and elegant scholars, but he also liked these sweaty men, who sat eating flatbread-wrapped leeks, garlic heads and fatty meat, and drank hard liquor.

He liked people.

This was because he had been alone for too long, and rarely saw people, only the green mountains, white clouds, flowing water and ancient pines. Three months ago he had finally returned to the world of men. And in three months time he had already killed four people.

Four local warlords with illustrious reputations, people who deserved to die, and yet couldn’t be killed.

He liked people, and yet he killed people.

He didn’t like killing people, and yet he killed them.

The world is filled with many things like this, things that leave you with no leeway to make any decision.

**

Chang’an. Ancient Chang’an. A grand city, filled with ancient history and the feeling of countless legends.

Little Gao didn’t come to Chang’an for any of these reasons, though.

He’d come for a person—the forever invincible hero Sima Chaoqun.

He’d brought his sword with him, and his sword sat at hand next to him. It was forever at hand.

The sword was wrapped tightly in cloth.

Few people could see this sword. From the time it was forged until now, few people had even had the opportunity to see it.

This sword was not a sword for people to see.

**

Little Gao knew that someone was watching him.

The second day he’d arrived, he’d noticed. It was a very thin man, wearing very expensive clothing, with a pair of cold eyes that seemed like they would never contain an ounce of emotion. His eyes looked like they might be grey.

He had seen eyes like this before.

When he was eleven years old, he had almost been killed by a leopard. That leopard’s eyes had looked exactly the same.

As soon as this person appeared, it seemed as if everyone in the little restaurant had stopped breathing for a moment.