Chapter 80: The Unprincipled Master

An Yi settled temporarily in the Green Bamboo Pavilion. After dinner, Hu Qingyue came, bringing several sets of clothes and accessories for her. “Nineteenth Junior Sister, I forgot to ask you what colors you like. For now, you can wear these. I’ll have the seamstresses make dresses in your preferred colors as soon as possible.”

Looking at the colorful stack of garments, An Yi smiled gently. “Eighteenth Senior Sister, it’s all right. I’m not particular about colors—the clothes you brought are lovely. There’s no need to make more.”

“Nineteenth Junior Sister, don’t be so restrained. Here, you may live as you please. If you have any requests, just ask—there’s no need to hold back,” Hu Qingyue said with a warm smile.

“I understand. If there’s anything I need, I’ll let you know,” An Yi replied, though she reserved judgment on this promise.

“You’ve had a long journey today, Nineteenth Junior Sister. Rest early. I’ll visit you again tomorrow,” Hu Qingyue said, beaming as she took her leave.

Aunt Chen entered, bowing respectfully. “Miss Nineteen, hot water is ready for your bath and change of clothes.”

“Thank you.” An Yi chose a white dress with blue flowers from the pile and followed Aunt Chen to the adjoining bath.

In the center of the bathhouse stood a large wooden tub, waist-high, with rose petals floating on the surface, filling the air with rich fragrance.

“You may go. I’m not used to having anyone nearby when I bathe,” An Yi said as she waited for Aunt Chen to leave. She undressed and slipped into the water. The temperature was perfectly comfortable.

After bathing and changing, refreshed and clean, An Yi returned to her bedroom and sat by the window in a bamboo chair, gazing at the night sky. There was no bright moon, no scattering of stars—only endless blackness, as if it held boundless sorrow.

She had not slept well in the carriage the night before, and soon sleepiness overtook her. She closed the doors and windows, extinguished the candle, and lay down to rest.

Aunt Chen, who had been standing guard outside, quietly departed.

When An Yi awoke, it was already broad daylight.

Aunt Chen was waiting outside and brought in hot water for her morning wash.

Just after breakfast, Hu Qingyue arrived, dressed in a pale yellow long robe embroidered with peonies, her hair arranged in a crescent-moon coiffure. “Nineteenth Junior Sister, did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes,” An Yi replied with a gentle smile.

“I’ll show you around.”

“Thank you, Eighteenth Senior Sister.”

As they walked, An Yi noticed that the large compound had little extravagant decoration. Several whitewashed walls divided the estate into smaller courtyards, each planted with common trees—pine, bamboo, willow, plum, peach, apricot, pear. Around them grew various poisonous plants.

Pinellia, aconite, monkshood, gamboge, castor beans, poppies...

An Yi knew nothing of the arcane arts, nor could she tell that the layout of the courtyards formed a labyrinth. Without Hu Qingyue’s guidance, she would have found herself lost, circling one place endlessly.

Hu Qingyue lived in Willow Garden; An Yi, in Bamboo Grove. Other gardens had their own pavilions, but none were occupied. As they passed through the paulownia grove, they saw a short stone wall and, inside, three stone houses.

“That is Master’s residence. Never enter without her permission—poisonous snakes and scorpions crawl everywhere inside,” Hu Qingyue said, her beautiful face showing a trace of fear.

An Yi was now certain that Ji Fanyi was a master of poisons. Her heart skipped—back in the modern world, she had relied on precise instruments to concoct her toxins. Here, in ancient times, she was far less confident. If she could win Ji Fanyi’s help, her efforts would yield twice the result with half the effort. Perhaps her journey to Hezhou was a blessing in disguise.

Because Ji Fanyi had made it clear the day before that she was not to be disturbed until sunset, the two women strolled a while. By midday, they returned to Green Bamboo Pavilion.

Hu Qingyue stayed to have lunch with An Yi but was soon called away by unknown matters, leaving no trace. An Yi did not wander about, choosing instead to stay in the pavilion and read. She was not yet thinking of leaving, so there was no rush to find a way out.

The bamboo shelves were filled with books of all kinds, from historical critiques onwards. An Yi pulled out a volume titled “A Chronicle of the Martial World,” and settled into a bamboo rocking chair to read.

Aunt Chen, standing outside the door, soon brought in a pot of fragrant tea and two plates of pastries before quietly withdrawing.

An Yi stared at the teapot and snacks on the table, lost in thought for a moment before returning to her reading.

“A Chronicle of the Martial World” recorded various notable people and events from the martial world—even Dr. Lu, the reclusive miracle physician, received a mention. But there was not a single word about Ji Fanyi. An Yi guessed that any such record must have been torn out by Ji Fanyi herself.

After nightfall, An Yi finished dinner and was about to take a stroll outside when she saw Hu Qingyue approaching—she had changed into a pink silk robe with a slanted collar and worn her hair in a gold-ingot bun, her steps graceful. “Nineteenth Junior Sister, Master wishes to see you.”

Hu Qingyue led An Yi to the vicinity of the stone houses before stopping. She handed An Yi a sachet. “Nineteenth Junior Sister, Master wants you to enter alone. I can only bring you this far. This sachet contains snake-repelling powder—if you wear it, the snakes will avoid you.”

An Yi took the sachet, fastened it to her waist, and walked toward the stone house. Pushing open the half-closed door, she was struck by the scene within. Her entire body went numb. The white lantern beneath the eaves cast a pallid glow over the courtyard, making it as bright as day. Countless snakes slithered about in the ghastly light, the sight all the more chilling and terrifying.

Though An Yi was not afraid of snakes, she had never seen so many at once, all of them highly venomous. Her courage faltered, her legs weakened, and her clenched palms were slick with cold sweat. No wonder Hu Qingyue had been frightened earlier—no one could remain unafraid in the presence of so many snakes.

Did Ji Fanyi summon her now to test her courage?

An Yi took a deep breath and walked straight ahead, refusing to be intimidated by this ordeal. As she advanced, dozens of snakes reared up, flicking their tongues at her.

Step by step, steady and unyielding, she walked thirty-six paces to the house door, sweat beading on her brow and a chill running down her spine. Regaining her composure, she knocked. “Master, I have arrived.”

“Come in,” Ji Fanyi’s voice called from inside.

An Yi pushed open the door. Ji Fanyi reclined in a chair, clad in fiery red, idly playing with a banded krait.

“Little Nineteen, go over there and pick three tokens from the jade tray.”

“What are they?” An Yi asked cautiously.

“My disciples may learn three skills from me—choose any three you like.”

An Yi’s gaze flickered. “Master, may I ask what Eighteenth Senior Sister chose?”

“Little Eighteen chose star-gazing, makeup, and cooking.”

“And besides those three, what else does Master know?”

Ji Fanyi cleared her throat. “I am versed in astronomy and geography, the five elements and eight trigrams, the arcane arts, music, chess, calligraphy, painting, agriculture, irrigation, economics, military strategy, medicine and poisons, martial arts, and cooking. There is nothing I do not know, and nothing in which I am not skilled.”

“I wish only to learn the art of poisons. I have no interest in the rest.”

A glint of severity flashed in Ji Fanyi’s eyes. Her smile faded as she fixed her gaze on An Yi. “Who are you?”

Seeing her expression change, An Yi knew suspicion had arisen. She met her master’s gaze calmly. “If you think I was sent to harm you, you can kill me.”

Ji Fanyi snorted. “If you fall into my hands, dying will not be so easy.”

“I am not from the martial world. I have always lived in Jingtang Village in Lingling County. Until now, I had never heard your name. I do not know who you are, and no one sent me to harm you. That is the truth—I hope you will believe me.”

“And if I don’t?” Ji Fanyi retorted.

“Then I have no way to resist and can only accept my fate,” An Yi replied honestly.

Ji Fanyi flicked her wrist, and the krait shot onto An Yi, winding itself around her neck. An Yi pressed her lips together; the cold sensation was enough to make the skin crawl, but she refused to flinch, calmly meeting Ji Fanyi’s gaze.

After a long moment, Ji Fanyi laughed softly. “Come, Silver Child.”

The snake obediently unwound itself from An Yi and slithered back to its mistress’s arm.

“Little Nineteen, even if you were a clever little fox, I wouldn’t be afraid. I am a thousand-year-old fox myself—there’s no way I’d fall into your trap. I’ll take you as my disciple. You may rest assured.”

An Yi’s lips curved slightly. “So Master has agreed to teach me the art of poisons?”

Ji Fanyi squinted, a shrewd light in her eyes. “Some say that medicine is but another form of poison. Do you agree?”

“I do. Medicine is inherently neutral—it can heal or it can kill, depending on how it’s used. The same herb can be a miraculous cure or a deadly poison. Take datura, for example. It can be used to harm, but also as an anesthetic to ease pain.”

“You once said you poisoned someone with cocklebur. Who was she?”

“A selfish, ruthless woman who, to achieve her own ends, not only harmed others but disguised herself as a benefactor to extort money and favors,” An Yi replied coldly.

“Such a person truly deserves to die,” Ji Fanyi applauded. “According to our rules, you may learn two more skills besides medicine and poisons. Go and choose two more tokens.”

“Isn’t it the rule of this sect that we may do as we please? I only want to learn the art of medicine and poison, nothing else,” An Yi said. She wanted to prepare her poisons quickly, leave this place, and go to the capital to settle accounts with An Qinghe.

“Little Nineteen, don’t regret it later,” Ji Fanyi said slyly.

“Master, I get the feeling you’re trying to trick me,” An Yi replied, narrowing her eyes.

Ji Fanyi put on a serious face. “Nonsense. How could I possibly trick you? You are my last and most cherished disciple—I would never scheme against you.”

At that moment, An Yi did not realize what it meant to be the last disciple, nor that the days ahead would be so arduous.

From the next day, An Yi became the busiest and most hard-working of Ji Fanyi’s nineteen disciples. Apart from the three hours of sleep she got each night, she had not a moment to herself. At dawn, she had to get up to bathe in medicinal water, reciting medical texts and pharmacopoeias as she soaked.

She did not mind bathing in herbal water, memorizing books, or handling all manner of poisonous creatures. What she dreaded were the horse stances, the sandbags tied to her legs as she leaped up stairs, the sword practice, the nightly star-gazing. “Master, I said I would only learn medicine and poisons. These are not part of that. I won't do them.”

“Who says they aren’t? If I say they are, then they are,” Ji Fanyi retorted unreasonably.

“Master, you really are tricking me!” An Yi glared at her in annoyance.

“So what if I am?” Ji Fanyi replied with a triumphant raise of her brow.

There was nothing An Yi could do. Since she did not intend to rebel against her master, she could only endure and study everything patiently.

Her master was unscrupulous, taking pleasure in tormenting her disciples, but at least her senior sister was dependable, making delicious food for her every day.

“Nineteenth Junior Sister, try this crystal osmanthus cake.”

An Yi had just eaten, but she sampled two pieces out of politeness.

“Is it good?”

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Eighteenth Senior Sister.”

“No need to thank me,” Hu Qingyue replied, her eyes curving like crescent moons. “Tomorrow I’ll make you pipa shortbread.”

“All right,” An Yi answered with a soft smile.

Time flew by, and before she knew it, An Yi had been living in the Carefree Sect for more than two months. Her progress in the other arts was slow, but her skill in medicine and poisons advanced rapidly. This rare “talent” delighted Ji Fanyi beyond measure; she called An Yi her treasure and explained many poison formulas and antidotes in great detail.

While An Yi strove to learn, Young Lord Gong was fending off a constant stream of assassins while having people search for clues as to who had abducted her and how to rescue her.

Wei Yang's injuries gradually healed, but the cold weather forced them to remain in a small village at the foot of Mount Heng, unable to travel north. The assassins searching for them in the area found no trace after several days and assumed they had all drowned in the river, thus ending the pursuit.

On New Year's Eve, Hu Qingyue prepared a sumptuous feast and opened a jar of her home-brewed pear blossom wine. “A cup for Master, a cup for Junior Sister, and one for myself.”

An Yi found no flavor in her food. After a few cups, she collapsed on the table, a faint smile on her lips. In her dreams, she returned to Jingtang Village, seeing her beloved mother and brothers. Suddenly, the dream shifted—everything was awash in blood. Her mother and brothers lay dead, and a man in official robes with a vague face laughed hideously.

“Mother, Brother, Second Brother,” An Yi murmured, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, calling out softly.

“Master, Nineteenth Junior Sister is crying,” Hu Qingyue said.

“She calls for her mother and brothers but not her father. Little Nineteen, do you not have a father?” Ji Fanyi gazed at An Yi and asked quietly.

“He is not my father. He is a villain,” An Yi said through gritted teeth.

Ji Fanyi’s eyes sharpened. She leaned closer. “What did he do?”

An Yi replied bitterly, “He wants to divorce my mother and marry again. He thought my mother was in his way, so he sent assassins to kill us.”

Ji Fanyi slammed her palm on the table in anger. “Despicable! Such a vicious man should be sliced to pieces!”

The noise woke An Yi. She opened her eyes in confusion. “Master?”

“Little Nineteen, you’re drunk. Let me carry you back to rest,” Ji Fanyi said, putting an arm around her and patting her back.

An Yi, head spinning, closed her eyes.

Carrying An Yi and using lightness skill, Ji Fanyi returned her to the Green Bamboo Pavilion, instructing Aunt Chen to take good care of her. An Yi remembered nothing of that night, and neither Ji Fanyi nor Hu Qingyue mentioned it again.