Chapter Sixteen: The Secret Affairs of Hengyang

From then on, Li Chongyuan spent his days cultivating on Ascension Peak. Every few days, he would leap down the stone well to the precipice—partly to return to the Lotus Ginseng Cave and study the patterns in the grotto, seeking enlightenment in martial arts, and partly to gather snow lotuses and snow ginseng to nourish his internal strength. He couldn't bear to waste the leftover snow lotuses and ginseng, so he would slice them finely with stone shards, knead them with flour into small pellets, and dry them for storage. These pellets, though neither as fragrant nor as appealing as the Tianshan Sect's secret elixirs, were in fact more potent. Those so-called elixirs barely contained a tenth of the snow lotus and ginseng, while Li Chongyuan's coarse, homely pellets were nearly pure, aside from a touch of flour. How could they not be powerful?

Time in the mountains flowed swiftly; two years passed by like a fleeting stream. While Li Chongyuan secluded himself on Ascension Peak, Li Jiu ventured down the mountain through swirling snow, accompanied by Zilan. Affection had long blossomed between Zilan and Li Jiu, so when Li Jiu decided to descend the mountain, Zilan insisted on following. Zi Wuzhuo, with a mind to bring them together, readily consented.

Hengzhou, Hengyang City.

A grand mansion stood with its vermilion gates tightly shut. Passersby were astonished, for at this hour the gates would usually be wide open, with guests coming and going. This was the renowned residence of Zhu Shitian, the wealthiest man in Hengyang. None could say for sure where Zhu Shitian had come from; he was as elusive as a dragon. Twenty years prior, this area was nothing but wild grass and saline wasteland. Zhu Shitian bought the land, built his estate, laid a broad flagstone road, and erected shops on both sides. Within two years, merchants from all over the land came to rent premises and do business, making this the most prosperous district in Hengyang. Zhu Shitian became the city's largest landlord. Not only that, but most businesses in the city operated out of Zhu's shops. With wealth enough to sway the gods and no shortage of cunning, Zhu Shitian soon had all the underworld and upright figures of Hengzhou under his sway—even the local magistrate would often visit his mansion.

In the main hall sat dozens of men in martial attire. At the center was Zhu Shitian himself, pacing back and forth with furrowed brows, heavy with thought. On the desk before him lay a crane-shaped token—the exclusive symbol sent by the Crane Sect a month before.

The Crane Sect was once known as the Crane Hall, an obscure northern sect with no standing in the martial world. But in the past two years, its reputation had soared: in a single month, they slew over ten renowned experts, striking terror into the northern sects. Recently, they began coercing and enticing other sects to join them, then renamed themselves the Crane Sect, recruiting followers far and wide. Those who refused were often slaughtered overnight. The sect now stood alone, unmatched in the north.

Yet Hengzhou was in the south, and the martial world of the south and north had always been distinct; the two seldom mingled. Couriers from the northern and southern escort agencies, when treading on each other's territory, would pay their respects to local leaders and be treated with courtesy, provided they followed protocol—no trouble would ensue. Aside from the time twenty years ago when Master Ye Changqing of the Tianshan Sect rallied the heroes from north and south to ascend the mountain and punish traitors, the two spheres rarely interacted.

A refined-looking scholar gently closed his folding fan and said, “Brother Zhu, there’s no need to worry. The martial world is treacherous, but reason still prevails. The Crane Sect has merely sent a token; they haven’t said what they intend to do. As long as they remain courteous, we can treat them as fellow martial artists from the north. If they act unreasonably, well—our southern branch has no cause to fear them.”

“Haha! Well said, Death Pen Brush Liu,” said a burly priest, rising to join in. “The Crane Sect may swagger in the north, but we’re content to leave them be. For them to come south and deliver messages—truly, they know not the height of heaven or the depth of earth! Those northern brutes know nothing of martial arts; they rely on brawn and thick skin, thinking themselves invincible!”

“Amitabha. Since receiving Brother Zhu’s letter last month, this humble monk hurried here. The journey was long, and I only arrived yesterday morning. The letter mentioned the Crane Sect causing trouble but did not specify the reason. I would like to hear the whole story from the beginning.” This was Yuanhui, abbot of Guizhou’s Demon-Subduing Temple.

With this question, most of the gathered heroes murmured in agreement. “Yes, Brother Zhu, you said someone meant you harm, so we all rushed here from afar. But we’d like to know why.”

Zhu Shitian hesitated, then said to his steward, “Zhu Fu, bring Xiang Lianfu in.”

Soon, the steward returned with a middle-aged man, who bowed deeply to Zhu Shitian and saluted those present. Zhu Shitian said, “Lianfu, tell the heroes the full story of the Crane Sect’s attack on our escort carriage.” “Yes, Master.”

In Hengyang, there was a renowned escort agency, Fortune Heaven Escort, which operated openly but was in fact Zhu Shitian’s clandestine business. The chief escort was Xiang Lianfu, formerly of the Qilian Sect. After years on the road, his martial prowess earned him a post as instructor to the Prince of Luling’s household. When the prince fell from grace under Wu Zetian, the house was implicated; the Qilian Sect, fearing trouble, expelled Xiang Lianfu and made it known across the martial world. When the authorities raided the prince’s residence, Xiang Lianfu fought back with his bare hands, felling a dozen soldiers and escaping over the walls. Thereafter, he wandered in anonymity, an outlaw with no refuge, reduced to poverty and near-beggary, until he found his way to Hengzhou and entered Zhu Shitian’s service. Upon testing his skills, Zhu was overjoyed, immediately founding an escort agency with Xiang as chief, spending heavily to bribe officials and erase Xiang’s name from wanted lists. Grateful beyond measure, Xiang worked diligently, gathering a loyal band of skilled escorts. His reputation from former days earned him respect in both the underworld and among the upright. Within a few years, Fortune Heaven Escort became one of the most prominent agencies in the south.

Three months ago, Xiang Lianfu was escorting a shipment to Youzhou. Passing through Cangyun County, he saw a large crowd kneeling before a clay idol—a handsome young man in brocade robes. Xiang, well-traveled and familiar with many customs, had never seen such a deity and stopped to watch.

Among the worshippers was a striking young man in splendid attire. Seeing Xiang observing from horseback, he shouted, “You there! Having seen the Divine Lord Crane, why do you not dismount and pay your respects?” Xiang was not one to seek trouble, but neither did he hold such a dandy in any regard. He replied, “You pray to your god; I travel my road. What is it to you?”

The young man grew angry. “How rude! I urge you out of kindness to worship the Divine Lord Crane, bringing you blessings. How dare you refuse?” Xiang said, “We who make our way in the martial world earn our food and clothes by risking our lives among friends, not by the grace of gods or buddhas. Why should I worship it?” The youth snapped, “You insolent fellow! Worshipping the Divine Lord Crane ensures peace in this life and virtue in the next. Not only do you refuse, you even speak disrespectfully—do you not fear calamity?” Martial escorts value auspicious words above all; ill omens are taboo. Xiang was furious, swung his horsewhip at the youth, who deftly dodged. The young man then leapt up, fingers clawed, shouting, “Insolent knave, come down here!”

Xiang, trained in the Qilian style, was not to be trifled with. His earlier lash had merely been a warning, but now, seeing the youth was skilled, he showed no mercy; with a quick lift of his leg, he kicked the youth off his horse, sending him tumbling into the dust. The escorts roared with laughter. The young man, undeterred, lay on the ground, pointing at Xiang. “You may refuse to worship, but to strike a servant of the Divine Lord is to invite ghosts upon your journey!” Xiang’s anger flared, but before he could retort, the villagers—young and old—rose up, brandishing hoes and rakes in a commotion. The escorts, well trained, cared little for such disorderly attacks, but martial code forbade harming commoners—especially when it would cut off future routes or risk inviting the attention of local bandits. Should things escalate, even the authorities might not look kindly on those who beat innocents, who were not outlaws. Thus, the escorts shielded their cargo and hurriedly withdrew.

Fortunately, the villagers, seeing the escorts merely defending and not retaliating, did not pursue, but gathered at a distance to hurl curses.

Seeing this road was now closed, Xiang Lianfu ordered a detour. The northern plain was crisscrossed with roads, so it mattered little. He was not reckless and knew the importance of harmony in business. Besides, as a man once wanted by the authorities, he preferred to keep a low profile.

The new route was more remote, but Xiang and his men were unbothered. After so many years, they had never encountered bandits.

As they traveled on, they saw ahead a white mourning tent. An old woman, dressed in sackcloth and hemp, knelt by a plain coffin, weeping as she burned yellow paper over a brazier.

When escorting, there are three things to avoid: government processions, weddings or funerals, and gang gatherings.

Upon encountering a wedding or funeral, if avoidance is impossible, one must give a gift—so-called “borrowing joy”—for good fortune. The amount is unimportant; it’s the gesture that matters.

Xiang Lianfu sighed and ordered the assistant to take two strings of coins as an offering. The convoy skirted the mourning tent and continued on its way.

[Author’s note: I work during the day, take care of my children morning and evening, and attend to my parents. Only in the quiet of night can I find time to write. In the year I have spent writing ‘Legend of the Flourishing Tang,’ I have rarely gone to bed before one in the morning. Though I do not claim every word is a gem, each line is written with effort and emotion. What you may read in minutes takes me hours of careful thought. It is not easy. I hope you will support and recommend this work, so my painstaking efforts are not in vain. My thanks to you all.

This novel is a slow burn; the plot unfolds gradually with each chapter. You will find that the deeper you go, the more captivating it becomes. Open and hidden struggles abound, and early seeds are revealed in time. The story is not only about martial heroes but also unveils the hidden intrigues of the imperial court. The plot is based on historical fact; characters such as Li Chongyuan, Li Chongjun, Li Duozhuo, Tian Yangming, Xue Chongjian, and others were real figures, and their fates follow the historical record. Thus, ‘Legend of the Flourishing Tang’ is both a martial and a historical tale, revealing many secrets of the Tang palace. I trust you will not be disappointed. When this novel is complete, another, ‘Tang Shang,’ will follow, to thank all those who support me.]