Where Immortals Once Walked

“It’s not a bad choice either. Dunyu is closer to the front lines, and the roads around it are better,” the Marquis of Songyang mused. “However, Songyang Mansion doesn’t have any local connections there, so I’ll have to trouble Lord He to help me find a good plot of land.”

He Chunhua readily agreed, “A small matter.”

The two soon began talking about the current situation in the realm.

He Lingchuan stood off to the side, drinking tea and nibbling on pastries, watching the scene unfold. The Marquis of Songyang had bright eyes and fine features, her bearing elegant and unhurried. Whoever she looked at, she made them feel as if spring sunlight had broken through the clouds and shone solely on them.

He Yue, caught under that gaze, could hardly lift his head.

She was no older than twenty, yet beneath her gentle grace was an air of confidence and command. When she discussed court affairs with He Chunhua, she spoke with insight and conviction; more than once, her views aligned perfectly with his.

He Chunhua was a man of grand ambition, but rarely did he find someone outside his circle with whom he could talk so freely. Once the conversation began, time slipped away unnoticed, and they had already spoken for over an hour before he realized it.

Madame Ying had to cough several times in warning before He Chunhua reluctantly drew the discussion to a close, though the look in his eyes still brimmed with interest.

Just then, the Marquis of Songyang remarked, “I’ve heard that the monster puppet master Dong Rui is one to repay every slight in kind. Since he suffered a setback at your hands, he’s unlikely to let it go so easily.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” He Chunhua replied with a wry smile. “I just don’t know who thought so highly of me as to spend a fortune hiring such a renowned assassin.”

“It’s either Nian Zanli or Dong Haoming. The former has a blood feud with you, and the latter lost his chance to seize the divine artifact because of you. Either way, your death would weaken the royal court’s power.”

“Or perhaps remnants from Sun Fuping’s faction?”

The Marquis of Songyang shook her head. “Sun Fuping’s forces have been wiped out. You can safely rule that out.”

He Lingchuan interjected, “I thought he had disciples and old friends all over the capital.”

“Sun Fuping did have disciples and friends, but once he became a state preceptor, he had to deliberately distance himself from them. The Imperial Censorate pays special attention to such matters. It’s one of the kingdom’s fundamental policies: if a state preceptor or high minister forms private ties with other officials, those officials face severe punishment.”

He Lingchuan shrugged. “Right, and yet he still colluded with the Minister of War.”

So much for a fundamental state policy.

“Sun Fuping had neither sons nor daughters. With his death, there’s no one left who’d avenge him,” the Marquis of Songyang said with a smile. “When a tree falls, the monkeys scatter. Young Master He, you’re worrying too much.”

As she spoke, she covered her mouth to stifle a yawn.

It was indeed quite late. Sensing the cue, He Chunhua rose to his feet. “Since Your Lordship will also be heading north, why not travel together with my army?”

The Marquis of Songyang agreed readily, “That would be splendid. With the Coordinating Army as escort, the journey will be perfectly safe.”

The group walked out of the courtyard. He Chunhua turned back for one last glance before returning to the village house they had decided to stay at beforehand.

The village houses had already been allocated, most to the officers of the army. Madame Ying had specially set aside two rooms for the elderly and the young.

When the He Family entered their quarters, the brazier was already burning, filling the room with comforting warmth.

Only after confirming that no outsiders were nearby did Madame Ying’s expression harden. “In this desolate wilderness, in a village freshly razed by slaughter, how could the Marquis of Songyang just happen to run into us? That woman’s motives are far from pure. We must be on our guard!”

The more she thought about that woman, the more uneasy she felt.

He Chunhua chuckled. “If she meant us harm, why choose such a place to appear? It would only put us on alert.”

Madame Ying shot him a glare, and then she turned that same sharp look on her two sons.

He Yue instantly felt the weight of his mother’s expectations. He blinked, hesitated, and decided he wanted no part of this. But Madame Ying called him out directly, “Yue’er, what do you think?”

Caught, He Yue coughed lightly. “Father, Grandmaster Artisan Li Fubo once came asking about Sun Fuping’s items. It must’ve been at the Marquis of Songyang’s behest. That means she still has ties to Sun Fuping. Until we’ve clarified that relationship, it’s best not to get too close to her.”

He Chunhua considered the words, then nodded. “You make a fair point.”

Madame Ying gave her younger son a look of approval.

He Lingchuan, meanwhile, smacked the table lightly. “So the Marquis of Songyang is actually a woman? Why has no one ever mentioned that before?”

With a title like “Marquis,” and everyone calling her “Your Lordship” and “the Marquis,” how was he supposed to guess she was a woman in the first place?[1]

He Yue asked in surprise, “Brother, you didn’t know?”

“How was I supposed to know?” He Lingchuan snapped. “Am I the only one who’s been living in some remote backwater where news never travels?”

“The Marquis of Songyang’s surname is Li, and her given name is Qingge. The title is hereditary, but she’s the only female marquis in the current dynasty. Even in Heishui City, I’ve heard the local gossiping wives talking about her,” He Yue said, genuinely puzzled. “Big Brother, you’re always the first to pick up on rumors. How could you not know this one?”

He Lingchuan pointed at the people walking ahead of them. “So you’re telling me that all of you knew?”

Every member of the He Family except him nodded, faces full of casual nonchalance.

Even Old Steward Mo, waiting by the side, smiled and nodded pleasantly.

So Li Fubo had not mentioned it, Sun Hongye had not mentioned it, and even that chatterbox Fixer Liu from Shihuan City had not breathed a word… all because it was supposed to be common knowledge?

He Lingchuan stretched lazily, suddenly feeling drained in both body and mind. “Are we having dinner yet? I’m starving.”

* * *

That night, he slept dreamlessly.

He Lingchuan had been hoping to revisit the battle’s aftermath in his dreams, but alas, there was no return to Panlong. Perhaps the broken saber had taken pity on how hard he had worked in his dreams the night before.

When he woke, he found that He Yue was still asleep. He noticed that his younger brother’s face was flushed bright red, his lips murmuring something under his breath.

He Lingchuan leaned closer, curious to hear. But just as he drew near, He Yue’s eyes snapped open, and he let out a startled yell at the sight of him.

Both brothers jumped in fright, loud enough that the guards outside came bursting in.

He Lingchuan rubbed his ear. “What are you yelling for? I nearly went deaf!” The boy’s voice was like a blade through the skull.

He Yue’s face was still red, and he avoided his brother’s gaze. “I, I was just sleeping. Why were you leaning over me?”

“I heard you saying, ‘good, good,’ and then, ‘slower,’” He Lingchuan said with deliberate calm. “So tell me, what exactly was so good, and what needed to be slower?”

“Uh—” He Yue glanced downward, then abruptly leaped to his feet and bolted for the door. “I need to pee!”

“There’s a bucket behind you.”

Whether He Yue heard him or not was unclear. He just grabbed a coat, threw it over his shoulders, and sprinted off as if his life depended on it.

The snow had stopped, but the morning air outside was bone-chilling.

He Lingchuan clicked his tongue twice. Youth sure burns hot.

Then he made a rather unwelcome realization:

Ever since he had obtained the broken blade, every dream he had had was tied to Panlong City.

It was either that he entered the dreamscape, or he slept like a log without dreaming at all.

The only exception had been the dream of that immortal’s cave abode, and yet even that, tangentially, had something to do with the divine bone and therefore with Panlong City.

In other words, he had lost the ability to have any other dreams.

Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life dreaming only of Panlong City?How dull.

I’m still young! I want to have vigorous, sweat-drenched, pulse-pounding dreams of passion and glory!

He wanted dreams like He Yue’s youthful fantasies.

“Brother Saber,” He Lingchuan said, patting the broken saber, “how about cutting me some slack and letting me dream of something else for once?”

Naturally, the broken saber gave no reply.

But He Lingchuan was sure that it heard him.

* * *

The dead villagers had already been buried. Before the group set out, He Chunhua burned a stick of incense for them and recited a brief prayer.

“In this age, nothing is cheaper than human life,” said the Marquis of Songyang, Li Qingge, joining her palms solemnly. “Young Lord He, your compassion does you great credit.”

At that moment, the small sable perched on Wu Shaoyi’s shoulder let out two sharp squeaks.

Wu Shaoyi immediately lowered his voice and said to the others, “My sable says the crows in the trees have been watching us this whole time, and they reek of human blood.”

He Chunhua jolted and looked up. Sure enough, nearly a hundred crows had silently gathered on the big tree by the grave pit, staring down at them from on high.

Crows were a common sight in winter. The Coordinating Army had seen who knew how many along the way and, by habit, ignored them.

But with Wu Shaoyi’s reminder, everyone felt something was off.

Since when were crows this quiet?

Moreover, a dozen or so were far larger than the rest, nearly the size of vultures. The way they watched humans was strange, like they were eyeing carrion.

Down on the ground, the two wolf monsters were staring right back at them, licking their lips.

He Chunhua said slowly, “Their beaks are awfully sharp. Don’t they look like pickaxes?”

The more they looked, the more they did.

He Lingchuan pulled the Ghost-Eye Bow from his storage ring, intending to give the crows a lesson.

But before he could nock an arrow, the flock seemed to sense danger. With harsh “caw, caw” cries, they beat their wings and lifted off in a black sheet, sweeping away toward the back hill. Snow cascaded from the tree in a blanket.

He brushed the fallen flakes from his shoulders, helpless. “That last bout of imperial nectar was clearly scant and poor-grade. How did it still manage to stir up so many monsters?”

He Chunhua said, his face grave, “In troubled times, monsters flourish; in peace, demons are few.”

Li Qingge looked over at him. “Then how do we get peace?”

He Chunhua shook his head. That was the answer countless experts had groped for in vain. He Lingchuan, however, chuckled and said, “It probably takes a peerless sovereign to set things right.”

The man-eating crows were hateful, but chasing birds was a fool’s errand, especially in broad daylight. He Chunhua and Li Qingge dropped the idea, packed the camp, and set out.

Murderers walking free, reality was always this helpless. The so-called “vast net of the law” was just self-comfort for the masses.

How many newly spawned monsters were roaming the land of Yuan? What could their six-hundred-odd men actually hope to change?

Aide Mozhe Jingxuan could only try to soothe the indignant Madame Ying, “Monsters just waking to wit go through a muddled stage. Give it some time, and they’ll settle down.” Most of them would, anyway. If not, a human army would soon teach them how to be “proper” monsters. This was still Great Yuan, after all.

But He Lingchuan understood that applied to “normal circumstances.” Great Yuan was presently mired in a two-front war. Did it still have the spare capacity to scour away these “skin rashes” on its own turf?

Hence, He Chunhua’s lamenting sigh.

Leave a surface malady unchecked, and it festers into a bone-rotting cancer.

As the Coordinating Army moved off, the crows shadowed them overhead for more than five kilometers, cawing nonstop—mocking, provocative, brazen. A few even tried to swoop in and defecate on people’s heads, drawing a sharp scream from Madame Ying.

Zhao Qinghe and Zeng Feixiong shouted for bows to be aimed up, and the Coordinating Army shot as one.

Arrows hissed skyward in a rain, and a dozen crows dropped on the spot.

They were rather pesky things. If you did not teach them a lesson, they would climb right onto your head.

Startled, the flock clawed for altitude. Another rippling volley brought four or five more tumbling down. The two giant wolves bounded out, retrieved each one, and tossed them onto the wagons. Lunch secured, and toys as well.

Having taken some losses, the crows finally grasped that these people were nothing like ordinary villagers and not to be crossed. Sullenly, they flew away.

Snow began to fall again.

1. Note that “Your Lordship,” in particular, is translated from 爵爷, for which the 爷 part is typically used to refer to male elders (i.e. 爷爷 = grandpa). ☜