Chapter Fifty-Six: The Mandate of Heaven

Seeing that Ye Pei truly seemed intimately familiar with the layout here, Chen Mo simply walked alongside him.

“Chen Mo,” Ye Pei suddenly asked, “why are you so certain that Huang Jifeng will protect me?”

Chen Mo chuckled at the question. “Ah, that’s because our leader loves making friends with heroes. Someone like you, Brother Ye—gifted in both pen and sword, able to bring peace with words and secure the land with martial might—he’ll like you very much.”

Ye Pei lowered his head and let out a faint laugh. “Then I suppose I must admit that.”

Along the way, everyone atop this Lesser Sacred Ritual Mountain greeted Chen Mo—some with sly grins, others with hearty laughter. They also nodded to Ye Pei at his side; a few even came forward to exchange names.

“As we’re nearly at the summit,” Ye Pei remarked, “the atmosphere here is better than most outside, not just in this region, but even compared to Sacred Ritual Mountain.”

Chen Mo grinned. “Most here are people our leader personally recruited from the martial world. If they’re not loyal, he won’t take them in. As for Sacred Ritual Mountain… most there aren’t pleased with Ni Siguans’s ways either. By the way, Brother Ye, what were you doing at Sacred Ritual Mountain?”

Ye Pei replied, “Ni Manxiu invited me. I stayed at his place for over a month.”

Realization dawned on Chen Mo. “No wonder you find Sacred Ritual Mountain’s atmosphere lacking—you must have spent most of your time with Ni Siguans. In that case, our leader will surely protect you. His admiration for Ni Siguans burns deep and intense, like a dormant volcano.”

As they spoke, the two arrived at the courtyard gate.

Ye Pei glanced up. “This courtyard’s different from Ni Manxiu’s.”

“Although Ni Siguans gave our leader the layout of Sacred Ritual Mountain, he had no idea what this courtyard actually looked like,” Chen Mo explained.

Ye Pei nodded. “In that case, I can draw you a plan of Ni Manxiu’s place. But as for the four arts—music, chess, calligraphy, painting—I’m rather mediocre at music and painting.”

Just as Chen Mo was about to knock, a robust but not burly middle-aged man opened the door and stepped out.

“Mo! You’re back?”

The man was strong, but not imposing; his ordinary face radiated kindness, and his demeanor was understated. If Ye Pei hadn’t known this was a formidable figure exiled by the Wan Clan to carve out his own realm, he might have mistaken Huang Jifeng for a humble schoolteacher.

“Boss!” Chen Mo bumped into Huang Jifeng. “Guess who this is?”

Huang Jifeng looked at Ye Pei, cupped his fists, and announced, “I am Lord Huang Jifeng of the Sacred Ritual Domain. May I know your name, young sir?”

Ye Pei hurriedly returned the courtesy. “I dare not claim a great name. I am Ye Pei. Greetings, Lord Huang.”

Huang Jifeng paused in surprise. “You’re Ye Pei from Wangmai?”

Ye Pei nodded. “Yes, I am—”

But before he could finish, Huang Jifeng had thrown an arm around his shoulders and was leading him inside, his voice booming with laughter: “Ha ha ha! So it’s Young Hero Ye! Forgive my rudeness. Come, let’s drink three catties of strong wine together and not part until we’re drunk!”

Now Ye Pei was, by all counts, safe; for the moment, no one had noticed he’d arrived at the Sacred Ritual Mountain in the Flowing Region. However, his current disguise had already been compromised, and he lacked the materials to craft another mask—it was truly a thorny situation.

Huang Jifeng was exceedingly bold and forthright, and with Ye Pei’s own considerable drinking ability, the two drank from noon till sunset and still remained clear-headed, chatting all the while.

Upon learning that Ye Pei’s relationship with Ni Manxiu was unusual, Huang Jifeng’s attitude became even warmer. Although Ye Pei himself was a bit confused about their relationship—he had no idea why Ni Manxiu was helping him—Huang Jifeng was convinced. After all, being invited by Ni Manxiu to stay for a month and frequently spar together was proof of a deep friendship.

“In those days, when I was hunted to the ends of the earth by the bandit and constable domains—hic—” Huang Jifeng hiccuped drunkenly, “it was then that a young Ni Siguans appeared. With a martial technique I’d never seen, he struck down several of them in an instant. Later, he told me it was called internal strength—hic—and that tiger of his was ferocious as hell, charging straight into the blades. The blades couldn’t even cut it…”

Ye Pei, listening, recalled sparring with Ni Manxiu and the tiger himself. He let out a soft laugh. “So they were going easy on me?”

Thus, Ye Pei settled in at Huang Jifeng’s place, spending his days sparring with his host.

After their first match, Huang Jifeng was hopelessly addicted. However, neither of them used internal strength; it was pure physical technique. Huang Jifeng’s style was aggressively offensive—actually ill-suited for friendly matches, as he often abandoned defense in favor of attack, easily leading to mutual injury. Fortunately, Ye Pei’s training was diverse, and his steady nature meant his martial arts were endlessly adaptable, enough to meet every challenge. The two fought with great joy every day, making Chen Mo, watching on the side, nervous.

“Ye Pei’s strength…” Chen Mo swallowed, staring at the blue brick shattered by Ye Pei’s kick. “My chest isn’t nearly that tough.”

Night fell.

Chen Mo leapt onto the rooftop. “Brother Ye, you’ve been sitting here late at night so many times—are you troubled?”

Ye Pei looked at him, thought for a while, and asked, “Are you married?”

Chen Mo was utterly baffled; he couldn’t make sense of why Ye Pei would ask that.

“N-no…”

Ye Pei went on, “Are you engaged?”

Chen Mo blinked. “No…”

Ye Pei turned his head away, gazing at the stars again. “Then you wouldn’t understand.”

Chen Mo was silent for a few seconds, then smiled. “So that’s it. In the end, you’ll have to leave this land, won’t you? Have you thought about that?”

Ye Pei lowered his head, considering. “I haven’t. I don’t even know if I can return to Wangmai.”

Chen Mo idly pinched his fingers, as if calculating. “Brother Ye, do you know why I help you? It’s not just because you saved the Chief Scribe of Brotherhood City—that’s nothing to do with me.”

Ye Pei looked at him and Chen Mo continued, talking to himself.

“You don’t know. I help you because our fates are deeply connected. I can divine that I’ll be a strategist, winning battles from a thousand miles away—but I can’t see your future. Strangely, I do know we’ll be friends and brothers.”

Ye Pei tilted his head, frowning. “You… know fortune-telling too?”

Chen Mo laughed. “When it comes to martial arts, a dozen of me couldn’t beat you. But in intellect and scholarship, even with your talents, you can’t match me.”

Ye Pei grinned at that. “I admit the latter—I have my flaws in scholarly matters. But as for the former… I’m not afraid of any number of your kind in a fight.”

Chen Mo’s face darkened, but he said nothing more. He continued pinching his fingers, muttering, “I have a vague sense—when you gather everyone, you’ll know your destiny.”

“Gather everyone? Who?”

“That’s heaven’s secret—I can’t reveal it. Really, the reason I’m telling you this is that when I divined and found that the woman traveling with you was Lady Zi, your destinies were inextricably entwined. You needn’t worry—in this vast but small martial world, you’ll meet again.”

Ye Pei, hearing this, lowered his gaze for a few seconds, then laughed freely. “Ha! Let fate be damned.”

After a moment’s thought, Chen Mo added, “All right, I’ll tell you what I mean by ‘everyone’ in another way.”

With that, Chen Mo left the rooftop. Ye Pei watched him go, said nothing, and sat cross-legged to meditate.

“If eight weapons can bear heaven and earth, twin blades can sever light and dark.
A drawn string plucks a feather of colored glass, a bared chest shines with a thousand emerald rays.
Starlight and shadow cloak the sword within, cold edge and broken halberd frost the eyes.
At dusk, wild herbs and heavenly orchids hide, beside dense woods and summer’s expanse.”
—From “Ten Scores: The Record of Azure Ink,” by Chen Mo

“Not bad, but I can’t understand a word,” Ye Pei said when he received the paper.

Wangmai, northern mountains of the Snow Country.

“Aren’t you going to help her? Look how miserable she is now…”

Ni Manxiu, biting into a rabbit leg, glanced at Sanhu and replied, “There are plenty of rabbits here in the mountains—if she can’t catch one, that’s her problem. She complains the river’s sometimes too cold, sometimes too dirty, and refuses to wash—her life isn’t in danger anyway. We’re in no rush to leave.”

The man and tiger sat on the cliff, feasting on rabbit. Far below, the young lady’s face was smudged black as coal, her once-pretty features unrecognizable, and her clothes were torn and tattered—who knew where she’d snagged them. If not for the soft armor Ye Pei had left her, she’d be in even worse shape. She looked much thinner now, sitting alone, quietly eating wild fruit.

At this point, she no longer balked at eating fruit.

“Well… food is food, what difference does it make… hmph…”

“Besides,” Ni Manxiu said, swallowing a mouthful of rabbit, “you saw her sprout wings and flee when she was desperate. I doubt she’ll run into danger she can’t handle—not for now. Let’s see how far she can go.”

“Aaahhh—!”

Her shriek made Ni Manxiu look down in alarm, only to see her hurl a fruit far away, wait a few seconds, then go and pick it up again.

“What’s she doing… even now, she throws away fruit…”

Ye Feilan picked up the fruit, eyeing the worm that had poked its head out, struggling internally.

“Mother always said being picky comes from never having truly starved—if you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat even bugs… Now I think I might actually want to try—ugh, so gross, but at least it’s meat, and it took effort to pick this…”

Her stomach growling, the young lady scrunched her face, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, steeled herself, and bit into the fruit—worm and all.

“Mm…” she chewed, “doesn’t taste any different, nothing special… Maybe my survival skills are almost as good as Mother’s now…”

Ni Manxiu, overhearing this, curled his lip. “Your mother never starved in the wild…”

Suddenly, as she chewed, the girl bit into something unusually tough. When it burst, a strange liquid sprayed through her mouth—

“Ugh… ah… ugh…”

“See?” Ni Manxiu laughed from above. “Your mother could stomach bugs, but she never needed to eat them. That’s what you get for not learning martial arts.”