Chapter 4: The Uninvited Guest

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Night had fallen over Double Laurel Alley. Ye Jingtang led his old horse forward slowly, eyes scanning the surroundings. The little bird on his shoulder, cheerful after a day’s journey, lay atop the saddlebag, gazing up at the starry sky and occasionally letting out a lively chirp:

“Chirp chirp chirp~…”

Dye Workshop Street, true to its name, was a poor district filled with manual craft workshops. Though now in decline, with only a few small shops stubbornly holding on, once night fell, it was rarely frequented by people.

Double Laurel Alley was even more desolate, the ground thickly blanketed with fallen leaves that rustled softly underfoot.

Ye Jingtang had roamed the talent market; many jobs were available, but positions offering a monthly salary of three strings of cash were fiercely competitive.

As the saying goes, “The poor pursue literary arts, the wealthy favor martial skills.” As a martial artist, just purchasing equipment was a considerable expense for Ye Jingtang, not to mention the appetite such training demanded. Clearly, these jobs were ill-suited for him.

Though he found no suitable work, his accommodation problem was unexpectedly resolved. He had thought two taels of silver would hardly suffice in the capital, but after some inquiry, he discovered Double Laurel Alley — a good place where a single landlady owned a dozen or so rundown courtyards, each rentable for just two taels a year, with free choice of room.

Ye Jingtang paid half a year’s rent upfront; the landlady didn’t even give him a key. Upon arrival, everything matched his expectations — dozens of dilapidated courtyards, with walls mostly crumbling and only two or three doors still intact. It looked like few would choose to live here even if rent was free.

Simple in life, just him and his bird, Ye Jingtang didn’t mind. He casually picked a seemingly complete courtyard and entered.

The yard was littered with leaves, doors and windows wide open. Inside, nothing remained but a bare bed frame.

“Chirp…”

The bird hopped down from the horse, scoped out the room, then looked up at Ye Jingtang with its glossy black eyes as if to say, “Let’s go back and live with the busty lady instead.”

Ye Jingtang paid no heed. He tied the horse in a corner, fed it some grass, then took down his bedding from the saddle.

Clack, clack—

Striking a flint, sparks flew, and the dim candlelight flickered to life, illuminating the sparsely furnished room.

Leaning his knife against the wall, Ye Jingtang surveyed the empty space, surprised to find the floor unusually clean. The straw bed was slightly indented, and on closer inspection, he found a strand of long hair.

“Hm?”

He picked up the hair; it was of good quality, suggesting it hadn’t been there long. Someone had recently lived here.

But in this era, both men and women wore long hair, so the owner’s gender was impossible to determine.

Perhaps a leftover from the previous tenant…

Puzzled but uninterested in delving deeper, Ye Jingtang tossed the hair outside and began making his bed.

The bird busied itself pecking at a small package, trying to extract the dried meat it had purchased.

“Still eating? Don’t you see we’re living in such a dump now? If I can’t earn any silver soon, I’ll have to sell you next month.”

“Chirp~”

The bird gave two hops, as if to say it was just a little plump and wouldn’t fetch much money.

Just as Ye Jingtang smoothed the bed sheet, a faint sound came from outside:

Whoosh—

Like a gentle breeze, it swept into the courtyard, stirring the fallen leaves.

Ye Jingtang frowned, gripping his knife’s hilt and peering out through the window.

A figure had appeared in the courtyard!

In the darkness, moonlight silvered half the yard. The figure stood on the border between light and shadow, cloaked and wearing a bamboo hat that concealed its shape and gender. In hand was a long spear wrapped in black cloth.

Motionless and silent, the intruder’s intent was clearly unfriendly.

Ye Jingtang silently signaled the bird to discreetly find his escort leader, then sheathed his knife behind his back and stepped to the door.

“Sir, who might you be? Is this your residence?”

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The visitor in the bamboo hat was none other than Shao Xiangjun, arriving late at night.

Shao Xiangjun said nothing as the spear in his hand slid free. Holding the spear’s butt with one hand, he raised the weapon horizontally, drawing a semicircle in the old courtyard, pointing straight at Ye Jingtang. He then lifted his hat, revealing a ghost-faced mask.

Only someone with solid skill could hold a nine-foot spear single-handedly and wield it so smoothly.

Ye Jingtang took a half-step back, calm and ready, his left hand clutching his knife’s hilt. But Shao Xiangjun did not strike immediately; instead, he gave a slight flick of his wrist.

Crack—

A sharp whip-crack echoed through the moonlit alley.

The black cloth wrapping the spear instantly tore away, revealing the true black lacquered spear beneath.

Its silver blade gleamed coldly under the moonlight, and a trembling hum like a dragon’s roar resonated from the blade.

Hum~~~

Ye Jingtang’s eyes widened in surprise. The spear was wielded effortlessly with one hand, yet the cloth covering it shattered by vibration alone—this was beyond his capability.

Realizing he was outmatched, Ye Jingtang’s expression shifted. He looked towards the courtyard gate.

“Master Wang?!”

Shao Xiangjun quickly turned to look.

Bang—

Ye Jingtang stamped the ground, leapt up, and sprang onto the rooftop, racing wildly toward the bustling street.

Unfortunately, this move might work against ordinary martial artists, but this visitor was no common foe!

No sound followed Ye Jingtang’s leap, but fierce rushing wind came from above.

Swish—

Drawing his knife, Ye Jingtang glanced sideways, stunned to see the motionless bamboo-hatted figure suddenly leap three zhang (about 9 meters) into the air. With both hands gripping the spear, the attacker brought it down like a mighty mountain crashing down on his head.

The house was only about three meters tall; this leap was equivalent to three stories high. Ye Jingtang had never seen anyone jump so high in his life and was shaken to the core.

Facing a crushing overhead strike, Ye Jingtang quickly raised his knife horizontally with both hands, the right hand pressing the blade’s back.

Clang—

Crash—

The clash of metal rang out as the old roof instantly collapsed.

Ye Jingtang was slammed back inside, feeling the spear’s immense brute force. Even landing hurt his soles.

“Master, wait—”

Ye Jingtang tried to plead, but the sudden attacker gave no chance. Piercing through the roof’s gap, the spear thrust straight for his face.

Clang—

Ye Jingtang swung his knife horizontally. Amid the loud noise, sparks flew, snuffing out the flickering candle.

The spear, like a thousand-pound iron pillar, was deflected sideways by the blade.

Seizing the chance, Ye Jingtang sprang up, holding the knife with both hands, slashing at the attacker’s five fingers along the spear shaft, attempting a counterattack.

But the spear tip touched the ground, then flew backward off the roof lightly, landing gently atop the tiles, its tip slanting toward the courtyard without further attack.

Seeing this, Ye Jingtang halted abruptly, holding his knife ready before him, prepared for battle.

Thud thud thud…

The courtyard fell into deadly silence under the moonlight, the pounding of a heart on the verge of bursting clearly audible.

Sweat beaded on Ye Jingtang’s brow; he stood motionless, eyes fixed on the figure above.

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After a moment of standoff, the figure on the roof slightly lifted his bamboo hat, revealing a hoarse voice neither masculine nor feminine:

“You don’t know the ‘Eight-Step Furious Blade’?”

Ye Jingtang frowned. Raised by his godfather in martial arts, he had only learned the standard blade and spear techniques, never hearing of the Eight-Step Furious Blade.

As for related manuals, none had crossed his path. The border town’s limited books on martial lore were mostly romantic tales of swordswomen’s tears, scandalous martial histories, and legendary heroines. Though he read many, he never mastered those moves, only learned some postures.

“I’m just a mere escort guard, never heard of the Eight-Step Furious Blade. I only know a few mixed techniques. You may have the wrong person.”

“The Eight-Step Furious Blade was founded by the previous dynasty’s top swordsman and passed down to the blade master Zheng Feng. Today, when you brandished your blade at Mingyu Pavilion, your opening stance resembled the Eight-Step Furious Blade. The authorities will likely come knocking soon. But since you truly don’t know it, no need to worry—at worst, I’ll just give you a beating to test your depth.”

A beating?

Ye Jingtang guessed that “Zheng Feng” was his godfather Shao Yuanfeng’s alias in the martial world, never expecting his godfather to be a true master.

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