I’m telling you…
Despite the influx of martial artists into Taijing, claiming to excavate Emperor Li’s tomb, Gong Jun did not believe they could actually find this most mysterious of imperial tombs.
After Emperor Li was buried, for hundreds of years, countless people claimed to have found his tomb, but none were true; the best outcome was finding a suspected tomb.
A suspected tomb has an authentic exterior with traps, but the difference is that the burial chamber is empty.
There are exquisite murals along the passage, occasionally accompanied by burial objects like gold artifacts, luring tomb raiders further in. However, upon reaching the chamber’s entrance, at least a dozen lives would have been lost, and after strenuously opening the stone mechanism of the tomb door, the raiders would find nothing but an empty chamber, a letdown so profound it could drive one mad.
After such repeated occurrences, even the most reckless tomb raiders refused to target “Emperor Li’s Tomb”
— who knew if it was real or fake?
The risk was too great. With such effort, it was better to seek fortune in other tombs, possibly with greater rewards.
Gong Jun looked down on the martial artists for their gullibility.
Every year in the martial world, so-called treasure maps, martial arts manuals, or peerless weapons would appear, usually revolving around these three things. Sometimes all three would emerge in a year, causing a stir.
The authenticity of these claims was self-explanatory, and yet the martial artists never learned, falling for the same tricks year after year.
As the Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei, Gong Jun was just annoyed by these martial artists disrupting the peace of the capital, potentially alarming the nobility and causing him trouble.
What was happening now?
Was the news about Emperor Li’s tomb actually true?
Gong Jun’s first reaction was still disbelief.
Dragon Claw Peak had many temples and Taoist abbeys, with many people visiting yearly for pilgrimage. Liuhe Temple was unremarkable among them, without popular legends or renowned monks, and its incense offerings were not thriving.
Without cliffs and sea of clouds, peculiar rocks or forests, or Buddhist halos at sunrise and sunset, how could it be chosen as the “auspicious” site for an imperial tomb? Gong Jun couldn’t figure it out.
Having served as Jinyiwei for many years, he understood the emperor’s mindset well. No matter how much they pretended to be wise, they loved to hear flattery and deep down believed themselves destined by heaven. Even if they didn’t initially think so, after sitting on the dragon throne for a long time, they would become deluded.
How could the true Dragon Emperor and ordinary people be the same?
Let alone the tyrannical Emperor Li, an inconspicuous place without any “special features” to highlight his status as the true Dragon Emperor would never be his final resting place.
Gong Jun did not hesitate to voice his doubts.
He had to clarify this matter; even if it led to death, he needed to understand.
“Deputy Commander Gong is correct, but there is something you don’t know,” Meng Qi deliberately slowed his speech. He had wanted to intimidate Gong Jun for a long time and seeing him distressed now, he decided to let him stew a bit longer.
“In the Chen Dynasty, this place was not called Liuhe Temple, but Zhuyin Valley.”
The wind through the boundless forest produced an incessant and varying whistling sound, a remarkable phenomenon.
During Emperor Li’s reign, a thunderstorm ignited a fire in the valley, nearly burning down the bamboo forest. Such events were common, and people only lamented, as replanting the vast bamboo required immense labor and resources. Without anyone taking charge, the valley gradually became desolate.
“However, this place is extraordinary,” Meng Qi glanced at Mo Li, opting not to reveal the full truth.
Because the location was a spiritual site, vegetation recovered quickly.
Explaining this was difficult, so Meng Qi chose to attribute it to “Feng Shui.”
“Indeed, there is a gathering of dragon energy here. Trees transplanted here mostly thrive, and seeds sown grow much faster than elsewhere.”
Gong Jun looked skeptical, as if thinking, “Just because I can’t beat you doesn’t mean I’ll believe any nonsense you say,” dismissing the mention of dragon energy as absurd.
“Zhuyin Valley is not here; in fact, it’s another valley not far from here, later renamed Xianyue Valley after the bamboo disappeared, with a Taoist abbey, Xianyue Temple.” Gong Jun, in his quest for the Imperial Seal, was naturally familiar with the geography of Dragon Claw Peak and aware of all the temples and Taoist abbeys.
The old monk nodded vigorously, unable to speak due to his muted point. His stiff expression had relaxed.
Then he heard the young-looking “Master Meng” chuckle sarcastically.
“Deputy Commander Gong is correct, but only that—”
“…”
This phrase sounded familiar, as if it had been said just a moment ago.
“I am unaware,” Gong Jun said through gritted teeth, holding back his anger, “I am but a man of limited talent and learning. Please enlighten me, Master Meng.”
The old monk’s eyes widened in shock, and he hurriedly turned his head to look at Meng Qi.
His movement was so abrupt that he strained his neck muscles, instantly causing him such pain that he clutched his neck, writhing in silence.
Doctor Mo, who had been observing from the start: “…”
In pain, the old monk was held steady by Mo Li, who applied a warm force to ease the pain, then swiftly adjusted the stiff muscles back into place.
The old monk leaned back, instinctively touching his neck.
The residual pain lingered, but he could now move his neck naturally.
Mo Li loosened the old monk’s mute point while also helping to improve his circulation.
The old monk, still in shock, asked, “Are you a doctor?”
Only after speaking did he realize he could talk again, and he shakily asked again, “Are you really Master Meng?”
Meng Qi glanced coldly at the abbot, whose legs went weak from the familiar icy gaze, causing him to fall to his knees with a thud. He then sat down awkwardly due to the pain in his knees.
Doctor Mo relaxed a bit after hearing the sound.
No broken bones.
No dislocations.
Doctor Mo had used his internal strength from a distance to cushion the old monk’s fall, preventing worse injuries.
Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei: “…”
What should he say? That Master Meng was truly insightful and foresighted, bringing a doctor along to avoid scaring someone to injury or death?
Gong Jun thought to himself, he would not flatter Meng Qi! He would not utter such words!
Flattery and sycophancy were common in the officialdom for benefits, but flattering Meng Qi, a state teacher from the previous dynasty with a temper and a grudge against the Jinyiwei, would not save his life, so why bother?
“How could it be the state teacher?” The old monk ignored the pain in his knees and turned to look at Gong Jun and then at Mo Li, as if seeking a denial from them.
However, neither Mo Li nor Gong Jun gave him the response he wanted.
Regarding Meng Qi’s identity, they were very clear.
Whether the old monk believed it or not, it had nothing to do with them. Gong Jun was unconcerned about the old monk, and Mo Li was more focused on another matter.
“Why is this place called Zhuyin Valley?” Mo Li kindly repeated Gong Jun’s question.
“Back then, Dragon Claw Peak had an imperial retreat, and commoners were not allowed to enter. Temples and Taoist abbeys weren’t as numerous as now and were mostly family temples built by nobles, maintaining some monks and Taoists to pray for ancestors and blessings for the family. People wouldn’t wander or pray in another family’s temple. Liuhe Temple once belonged to a powerful minister, later stripped of his title, leaving the temple vacant, easy to tamper with. Back then, there was no Xianyue Temple, only Liuhe Temple, which originally wasn’t here but in another nearby valley. Emperor Li ordered the temple to be dismantled and rebuilt here. These two locations were close, and after a fire burned the other valley and changed the mountain paths, it became difficult for later generations to distinguish between them.”
Meng Qi revealed the centuries-old secrets as if he had witnessed them himself, puzzling Gong Jun even more.
“Such a claim, is there any evidence? Is it from the words of monks who once chanted in the mountains?”
“These people have long turned to dust. Moreover, family temples are strictly guarded, how could they wander the mountains freely?” Meng Qi shook his head. “Moreover, during Emperor Li’s reign, to construct his mausoleum, he conscripted laborers, causing great suffering near Taijing. Those people either died from exhaustion or were silenced. A mausoleum and several suspected tombs. None of the laborers who worked on any of them returned alive, so what evidence could there be?”
Gong Jun almost asked: Then how do you know?
He said sternly, “Master Meng’s words lack evidence, and I find it hard to believe.”
He wasn’t truly disbelieving, but rather didn’t want to get involved in this messy affair. Abandoning the search for the Imperial Seal and maintaining disbelief in the existence of the imperial tomb might just save his life. Knowing all the secrets was a sure way to a short life.
Meng Qi saw right through Gong Jun’s intentions.
It was laughable; after all his efforts, he just wanted to use this Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei.
—Thinking of running away? Even fleeing home won’t save you!
Meng Qi gave Mo Li a meaningful look, trusting the doctor to understand his intent.
Mo Li realized he had unwittingly become part of Meng Qi’s plot to coerce others. He couldn’t expose Meng Qi in front of others, leaving him no choice but to play the accomplice.
Mo Li composed himself and suggested, “Deputy Commander Gong, why not talk to this master?”
Gong Jun instinctively looked at the old monk, who was trembling like a frightened bird after the series of shocks. Hearing Mo Li’s words and meeting Gong Jun’s intense gaze, the monk collapsed on the ground.
This involuntary admission confirmed Meng Qi’s claims.
“So, it really is Emperor Li’s tomb?” Gong Jun murmured, “And the craftsmen secretly collaborating with the monks in the temple were not plotting rebellion but just greedy tomb raiders?”
With the Imperial Seal gone and no rebels to capture, his chance for glory vanished.
The Deputy Commander felt utterly disappointed.
“Cough, not exactly,” Mo Li said slowly.
Gong Jun looked up, puzzled.
Mo Li calmly asked, “Does the Deputy Commander know where the rumor of Emperor Li’s tomb treasure originated?”
“It seems to be from Ancestor Qingwu…”
Gong Jun began, then suddenly paused, his expression changing.
Ancestor Qingwu had a disciple who served the Heavenly Granted King.
While martial artists value their lineage, the reality is often different. Many turn rogue after leaving their masters. There are many who learn martial arts and commit atrocities outside. If they steal secret manuals or betray their own sect, they are expelled, but robbing the rich is seen as ‘acting for heaven,’ and serving the government is viewed as serving a ‘higher purpose,’ neither of which warrant pursuit or punishment.
Now, with the north and south governed separately, serving a self-proclaimed righteous Heavenly Granted King is nothing unusual. Ancestor Qingwu Zhao Cangfeng having such a disciple mattered only to officials he interacted with, not to fellow martial artists.
Gong Jun hadn’t labeled Ancestor Qingwu a rebel because, in times of chaos, it was common for disciples of major sects to serve various powers.
Learning arts and serving emperors for profit and fame was the norm.
But thinking more carefully, Gong Jun sensed something amiss.
“Does it mean,” Gong Jun asked deliberately, “that Zhao Cangfeng discovered Emperor Li’s tomb treasure, tried to excavate it himself, found it too dangerous, and now wants others to risk their lives to probe the tomb’s traps?”
Mo Li found Meng Qi remaining silent, appearing like a detached sage. With no choice, Mo Li continued, “That’s the most obvious conclusion, but the situation is likely not that simple.”
The game was just beginning.
Without Ancestor Qingwu making the next move, others could only speculate about an empty chessboard.
Gong Jun’s expression darkened.
Regardless of the conspiracy, with such a commotion at Liuhe Temple and the roof demolished, Ancestor Qingwu must already know. The temple was above Emperor Li’s tomb, and although other martial artists didn’t know and hadn’t arrived yet, how could Ancestor Qingwu not have someone watching for changes in the temple?
Gong Jun, looking grim, grabbed the old monk and demanded, “Which monk here is Ancestor Qingwu’s man?”
“I truly don’t know!”
The abbot suddenly wailed, claiming he had just randomly chosen a dilapidated temple to settle in, unaware that the craftsmen had discovered Emperor Li’s tomb beneath it.
“…They said they would give me gold after the job was done. I just wanted to take some money, go to the south, and live as a wealthy layman, buy some land, and live peacefully.”
No longer using a monk’s title, he cried pitifully.
Mo Li initially felt sympathy but saw Gong Jun’s contemptuous look.
“I wouldn’t have survived long if I hadn’t become a monk; I am the only surviving son of the fallen prince!” the old monk continued to whine pitifully, “I’ve been fasting and praying for nearly a lifetime, but fate still doesn’t spare me…”
Gong Jun couldn’t help but retort sarcastically, “The monk’s certificate in your hand belongs to someone else. What about the actual monk?”
The old monk faltered, then cried, “What was the capital like on the day of Chu Dynasty’s downfall? Do I need to tell you? There were plenty of these certificates; just pick one from a corpse.”
“It’s probably not that simple,” Gong Jun sneered. “The monk on this certificate is from Taijing, not a faraway place. All these years, no one who knew the original owner showed up. You got lucky, didn’t you? Not only did his fellow monks, including his master, all die, but also all acquaintances, and his age is about the same as yours… just picked it up from a corpse?”
The old monk quickly changed his story, “No, actually this certificate is fake, I bought it.”
“From whom? I know all the forgers of certificates and travel passes near Taijing.”
“No, it was a martial artist…” the old monk stuttered, “Actually, a Taoist, surnamed Ning.”
Mo Li immediately realized he was talking about Ning Changyuan.
But Gong Jun instantly refuted the old monk’s deceit.
“What a joke! You must be making this up from the government’s wanted posters!” Gong Jun exclaimed harshly. “Sixteen years ago, Ning Changyuan was still learning swordsmanship in the Tianshan Mountains, how could he forge a certificate for you?”
Mo Li communicated with Meng Qi using internal energy.
“Brother Meng, why does the Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei get so angry whenever Ning Changyuan is mentioned?”
“I’m not sure, maybe out of rivalry?” Meng Qi also whispered back, “When I was in Yongzhou, I heard many conversations among martial artists and sects. Ning Changyuan, known for forging travel passes, is considered the number one swordsman in the world.”
Ning Changyuan’s martial arts skills were indeed high, and his determination was strong, resembling a swordsman who follows his own path. His way of adhering to his path, however, differed from other swordsmen; forgery and such sounded very mundane.
“Although Ancestor Qingwu is implicitly considered the number one master in the martial world, someone like Ning Changyuan, obviously younger than Ancestor Qingwu, is also highly regarded. Martial artists love to debate, and I heard a discussion at a tea stall about who would be the top master in thirty years.”
Meng Qi seemed interested, and Mo Li listened relaxedly.
—As the conversation wouldn’t involve him.
“Did they mention Ning Changyuan?”
“He was one, and the other was Golden Phoenix’s Young Master.”
Mo Li recalled the Golden Phoenix Young Master who insisted on grabbing him and pulling his hat, coughing lightly, “Golden Phoenix Young Master lacks some luck. If he stayed home and practiced martial arts, he might stand a chance.”
Facing an unmanageable opponent, survival until thirty years later might be uncertain.
Meng Qi thought about it and agreed.
“In addition to the so-called rising stars from various sects, I heard an interesting opinion. Many people doubt that Ancestor Qingwu is the current top master of the martial world.”
“Do they know about my teacher?” Mo Li instinctively asked.
“Not Qin… Mr. Qin.”
Meng Qi struggled to add a respectful title to Qin Lu’s name.
Age and seniority are unrelated; he must follow the doctor’s way of addressing him.
“Not Mr. Qin, many haven’t even heard of Xuanhu Divine Doctor,” Meng Qi shifted back to the topic, “They were talking about the person in front of you, Deputy Commander Gong Jun.”
“He’s that famous?” Mo Li was genuinely surprised.
Gong Jun’s martial arts skills were definitely first-class in the martial world, but not quite top-tier.
However, with time, as his internal strength deepened, he could indeed compete for the title of a top master.
Mo Li thought this as he listened to Meng Qi explain, “No, Deputy Commander Gong Jun is relatively unknown in the martial world. They were praising a mysterious sword expert, a Taijing resident, identity unknown, always appearing masked in black. This person’s swordsmanship is incredibly fast and unpredictable, with blue sword light, and can strike several times in an instant, leaving marks resembling bamboo segments. Known as ‘Bamboo Sword Guest’ in the martial world, ignoring the so-called segment-like marks, who does it remind you of?”
Mo Li: “…”
Had he missed something by not letting Gong Jun’s sword strike the wall?
Meng Qi enthusiastically continued, “Because the Bamboo Sword Guest became famous very early. When I was still a State Teacher in Taijing, I had vaguely heard of him. Now thinking back, Gong Jun gained fame in his youth, showing exceptional talent at eighteen but remaining composed and clear about his own abilities, choosing opponents of similar strength. As a result, people in the martial world now believe that the Bamboo Sword Guest must be at least fifty years old and has never been defeated, a force not to be underestimated.”
Before Mo Li could react, Meng Qi added,
“Also, there’s a nickname in the martial world called ‘Three Friends of the Cold Season,’ referring to Song Ya of Chunshan School, Scholar Mei of Tianshan School, and the mysterious Bamboo Sword Guest.”
“Do these three have any connection?” Mo Li asked, his expression stern.
If Gong Jun was friends with Song Ya, a notorious killer, Mo Li would need to reassess his opinion of the Deputy Commander.
“No, they have no relationship and probably have never met. People in the martial world like to group together individuals with similar nicknames under a unified title, thinking it’s easier to remember. Such as ‘Sword of the South, Sabre of the North,’ or the ‘Four Young Masters of Martial Arts.’ The most bizarre part is the rankings they create, like Golden Phoenix Young Master being ranked first among the Four Young Masters. I don’t know what the others think, but they might have fought several times just over these titles.”
Mo Li was speechless, gaining further insight into the lives of martial artists.
Gong Jun had interrogated the old monk into silence and then noticed Mo Li and Meng Qi silently conversing, realizing they were using secret sound transmission.
Not only were they whispering, but they also seemed quite happy about it — don’t ask how Gong Jun knew; Meng Qi’s expression gave it away. Previously indifferent and aloof, he now showed a hint of a smile.
Gong Jun thought he must not be fooled and couldn’t stay at Liuhe Temple any longer.
“I see Master Meng has everything under control, so I’ll return to the capital to report this matter,” he said, bowing and heading for the door.
Meng Qi didn’t stop him.
Gong Jun, surprised, tensed up and suddenly spun towards the window.
He broke through it and ran off faster than a rabbit, disappearing in an instant.
Mo Li looked at Meng Qi, “Aren’t you chasing him?”
“Aren’t you either?” Meng Qi replied, hands behind his back.
Both men smiled slightly, their eyes meeting and deepening their amusement.
“Since the doctor and I are on the same page, shall we discuss it?”
They continued their secret sound transmission, unconcerned about being overheard.
Author’s Note:
People in the martial world like to group individuals with similar nicknames under a unified title
—Forced group formation
—Then forcing group members to compete in popularity contests
I’m telling you…
Despite the influx of martial artists into Taijing, claiming to excavate Emperor Li’s tomb, Gong Jun did not believe they could actually find this most mysterious of imperial tombs.
After Emperor Li was buried, for hundreds of years, countless people claimed to have found his tomb, but none were true; the best outcome was finding a suspected tomb.
A suspected tomb has an authentic exterior with traps, but the difference is that the burial chamber is empty.
There are exquisite murals along the passage, occasionally accompanied by burial objects like gold artifacts, luring tomb raiders further in. However, upon reaching the chamber’s entrance, at least a dozen lives would have been lost, and after strenuously opening the stone mechanism of the tomb door, the raiders would find nothing but an empty chamber, a letdown so profound it could drive one mad.
After such repeated occurrences, even the most reckless tomb raiders refused to target “Emperor Li’s Tomb”
— who knew if it was real or fake?
The risk was too great. With such effort, it was better to seek fortune in other tombs, possibly with greater rewards.
Gong Jun looked down on the martial artists for their gullibility.
Every year in the martial world, so-called treasure maps, martial arts manuals, or peerless weapons would appear, usually revolving around these three things. Sometimes all three would emerge in a year, causing a stir.
The authenticity of these claims was self-explanatory, and yet the martial artists never learned, falling for the same tricks year after year.
As the Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei, Gong Jun was just annoyed by these martial artists disrupting the peace of the capital, potentially alarming the nobility and causing him trouble.
What was happening now?
Was the news about Emperor Li’s tomb actually true?
Gong Jun’s first reaction was still disbelief.
Dragon Claw Peak had many temples and Taoist abbeys, with many people visiting yearly for pilgrimage. Liuhe Temple was unremarkable among them, without popular legends or renowned monks, and its incense offerings were not thriving.
Without cliffs and sea of clouds, peculiar rocks or forests, or Buddhist halos at sunrise and sunset, how could it be chosen as the “auspicious” site for an imperial tomb? Gong Jun couldn’t figure it out.
Having served as Jinyiwei for many years, he understood the emperor’s mindset well. No matter how much they pretended to be wise, they loved to hear flattery and deep down believed themselves destined by heaven. Even if they didn’t initially think so, after sitting on the dragon throne for a long time, they would become deluded.
How could the true Dragon Emperor and ordinary people be the same?
Let alone the tyrannical Emperor Li, an inconspicuous place without any “special features” to highlight his status as the true Dragon Emperor would never be his final resting place.
Gong Jun did not hesitate to voice his doubts.
He had to clarify this matter; even if it led to death, he needed to understand.
“Deputy Commander Gong is correct, but there is something you don’t know,” Meng Qi deliberately slowed his speech. He had wanted to intimidate Gong Jun for a long time and seeing him distressed now, he decided to let him stew a bit longer.
“In the Chen Dynasty, this place was not called Liuhe Temple, but Zhuyin Valley.”
The wind through the boundless forest produced an incessant and varying whistling sound, a remarkable phenomenon.
During Emperor Li’s reign, a thunderstorm ignited a fire in the valley, nearly burning down the bamboo forest. Such events were common, and people only lamented, as replanting the vast bamboo required immense labor and resources. Without anyone taking charge, the valley gradually became desolate.
“However, this place is extraordinary,” Meng Qi glanced at Mo Li, opting not to reveal the full truth.
Because the location was a spiritual site, vegetation recovered quickly.
Explaining this was difficult, so Meng Qi chose to attribute it to “Feng Shui.”
“Indeed, there is a gathering of dragon energy here. Trees transplanted here mostly thrive, and seeds sown grow much faster than elsewhere.”
Gong Jun looked skeptical, as if thinking, “Just because I can’t beat you doesn’t mean I’ll believe any nonsense you say,” dismissing the mention of dragon energy as absurd.
“Zhuyin Valley is not here; in fact, it’s another valley not far from here, later renamed Xianyue Valley after the bamboo disappeared, with a Taoist abbey, Xianyue Temple.” Gong Jun, in his quest for the Imperial Seal, was naturally familiar with the geography of Dragon Claw Peak and aware of all the temples and Taoist abbeys.
The old monk nodded vigorously, unable to speak due to his muted point. His stiff expression had relaxed.
Then he heard the young-looking “Master Meng” chuckle sarcastically.
“Deputy Commander Gong is correct, but only that—”
“…”
This phrase sounded familiar, as if it had been said just a moment ago.
“I am unaware,” Gong Jun said through gritted teeth, holding back his anger, “I am but a man of limited talent and learning. Please enlighten me, Master Meng.”
The old monk’s eyes widened in shock, and he hurriedly turned his head to look at Meng Qi.
His movement was so abrupt that he strained his neck muscles, instantly causing him such pain that he clutched his neck, writhing in silence.
Doctor Mo, who had been observing from the start: “…”
In pain, the old monk was held steady by Mo Li, who applied a warm force to ease the pain, then swiftly adjusted the stiff muscles back into place.
The old monk leaned back, instinctively touching his neck.
The residual pain lingered, but he could now move his neck naturally.
Mo Li loosened the old monk’s mute point while also helping to improve his circulation.
The old monk, still in shock, asked, “Are you a doctor?”
Only after speaking did he realize he could talk again, and he shakily asked again, “Are you really Master Meng?”
Meng Qi glanced coldly at the abbot, whose legs went weak from the familiar icy gaze, causing him to fall to his knees with a thud. He then sat down awkwardly due to the pain in his knees.
Doctor Mo relaxed a bit after hearing the sound.
No broken bones.
No dislocations.
Doctor Mo had used his internal strength from a distance to cushion the old monk’s fall, preventing worse injuries.
Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei: “…”
What should he say? That Master Meng was truly insightful and foresighted, bringing a doctor along to avoid scaring someone to injury or death?
Gong Jun thought to himself, he would not flatter Meng Qi! He would not utter such words!
Flattery and sycophancy were common in the officialdom for benefits, but flattering Meng Qi, a state teacher from the previous dynasty with a temper and a grudge against the Jinyiwei, would not save his life, so why bother?
“How could it be the state teacher?” The old monk ignored the pain in his knees and turned to look at Gong Jun and then at Mo Li, as if seeking a denial from them.
However, neither Mo Li nor Gong Jun gave him the response he wanted.
Regarding Meng Qi’s identity, they were very clear.
Whether the old monk believed it or not, it had nothing to do with them. Gong Jun was unconcerned about the old monk, and Mo Li was more focused on another matter.
“Why is this place called Zhuyin Valley?” Mo Li kindly repeated Gong Jun’s question.
“Back then, Dragon Claw Peak had an imperial retreat, and commoners were not allowed to enter. Temples and Taoist abbeys weren’t as numerous as now and were mostly family temples built by nobles, maintaining some monks and Taoists to pray for ancestors and blessings for the family. People wouldn’t wander or pray in another family’s temple. Liuhe Temple once belonged to a powerful minister, later stripped of his title, leaving the temple vacant, easy to tamper with. Back then, there was no Xianyue Temple, only Liuhe Temple, which originally wasn’t here but in another nearby valley. Emperor Li ordered the temple to be dismantled and rebuilt here. These two locations were close, and after a fire burned the other valley and changed the mountain paths, it became difficult for later generations to distinguish between them.”
Meng Qi revealed the centuries-old secrets as if he had witnessed them himself, puzzling Gong Jun even more.
“Such a claim, is there any evidence? Is it from the words of monks who once chanted in the mountains?”
“These people have long turned to dust. Moreover, family temples are strictly guarded, how could they wander the mountains freely?” Meng Qi shook his head. “Moreover, during Emperor Li’s reign, to construct his mausoleum, he conscripted laborers, causing great suffering near Taijing. Those people either died from exhaustion or were silenced. A mausoleum and several suspected tombs. None of the laborers who worked on any of them returned alive, so what evidence could there be?”
Gong Jun almost asked: Then how do you know?
He said sternly, “Master Meng’s words lack evidence, and I find it hard to believe.”
He wasn’t truly disbelieving, but rather didn’t want to get involved in this messy affair. Abandoning the search for the Imperial Seal and maintaining disbelief in the existence of the imperial tomb might just save his life. Knowing all the secrets was a sure way to a short life.
Meng Qi saw right through Gong Jun’s intentions.
It was laughable; after all his efforts, he just wanted to use this Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei.
—Thinking of running away? Even fleeing home won’t save you!
Meng Qi gave Mo Li a meaningful look, trusting the doctor to understand his intent.
Mo Li realized he had unwittingly become part of Meng Qi’s plot to coerce others. He couldn’t expose Meng Qi in front of others, leaving him no choice but to play the accomplice.
Mo Li composed himself and suggested, “Deputy Commander Gong, why not talk to this master?”
Gong Jun instinctively looked at the old monk, who was trembling like a frightened bird after the series of shocks. Hearing Mo Li’s words and meeting Gong Jun’s intense gaze, the monk collapsed on the ground.
This involuntary admission confirmed Meng Qi’s claims.
“So, it really is Emperor Li’s tomb?” Gong Jun murmured, “And the craftsmen secretly collaborating with the monks in the temple were not plotting rebellion but just greedy tomb raiders?”
With the Imperial Seal gone and no rebels to capture, his chance for glory vanished.
The Deputy Commander felt utterly disappointed.
“Cough, not exactly,” Mo Li said slowly.
Gong Jun looked up, puzzled.
Mo Li calmly asked, “Does the Deputy Commander know where the rumor of Emperor Li’s tomb treasure originated?”
“It seems to be from Ancestor Qingwu…”
Gong Jun began, then suddenly paused, his expression changing.
Ancestor Qingwu had a disciple who served the Heavenly Granted King.
While martial artists value their lineage, the reality is often different. Many turn rogue after leaving their masters. There are many who learn martial arts and commit atrocities outside. If they steal secret manuals or betray their own sect, they are expelled, but robbing the rich is seen as ‘acting for heaven,’ and serving the government is viewed as serving a ‘higher purpose,’ neither of which warrant pursuit or punishment.
Now, with the north and south governed separately, serving a self-proclaimed righteous Heavenly Granted King is nothing unusual. Ancestor Qingwu Zhao Cangfeng having such a disciple mattered only to officials he interacted with, not to fellow martial artists.
Gong Jun hadn’t labeled Ancestor Qingwu a rebel because, in times of chaos, it was common for disciples of major sects to serve various powers.
Learning arts and serving emperors for profit and fame was the norm.
But thinking more carefully, Gong Jun sensed something amiss.
“Does it mean,” Gong Jun asked deliberately, “that Zhao Cangfeng discovered Emperor Li’s tomb treasure, tried to excavate it himself, found it too dangerous, and now wants others to risk their lives to probe the tomb’s traps?”
Mo Li found Meng Qi remaining silent, appearing like a detached sage. With no choice, Mo Li continued, “That’s the most obvious conclusion, but the situation is likely not that simple.”
The game was just beginning.
Without Ancestor Qingwu making the next move, others could only speculate about an empty chessboard.
Gong Jun’s expression darkened.
Regardless of the conspiracy, with such a commotion at Liuhe Temple and the roof demolished, Ancestor Qingwu must already know. The temple was above Emperor Li’s tomb, and although other martial artists didn’t know and hadn’t arrived yet, how could Ancestor Qingwu not have someone watching for changes in the temple?
Gong Jun, looking grim, grabbed the old monk and demanded, “Which monk here is Ancestor Qingwu’s man?”
“I truly don’t know!”
The abbot suddenly wailed, claiming he had just randomly chosen a dilapidated temple to settle in, unaware that the craftsmen had discovered Emperor Li’s tomb beneath it.
“…They said they would give me gold after the job was done. I just wanted to take some money, go to the south, and live as a wealthy layman, buy some land, and live peacefully.”
No longer using a monk’s title, he cried pitifully.
Mo Li initially felt sympathy but saw Gong Jun’s contemptuous look.
“I wouldn’t have survived long if I hadn’t become a monk; I am the only surviving son of the fallen prince!” the old monk continued to whine pitifully, “I’ve been fasting and praying for nearly a lifetime, but fate still doesn’t spare me…”
Gong Jun couldn’t help but retort sarcastically, “The monk’s certificate in your hand belongs to someone else. What about the actual monk?”
The old monk faltered, then cried, “What was the capital like on the day of Chu Dynasty’s downfall? Do I need to tell you? There were plenty of these certificates; just pick one from a corpse.”
“It’s probably not that simple,” Gong Jun sneered. “The monk on this certificate is from Taijing, not a faraway place. All these years, no one who knew the original owner showed up. You got lucky, didn’t you? Not only did his fellow monks, including his master, all die, but also all acquaintances, and his age is about the same as yours… just picked it up from a corpse?”
The old monk quickly changed his story, “No, actually this certificate is fake, I bought it.”
“From whom? I know all the forgers of certificates and travel passes near Taijing.”
“No, it was a martial artist…” the old monk stuttered, “Actually, a Taoist, surnamed Ning.”
Mo Li immediately realized he was talking about Ning Changyuan.
But Gong Jun instantly refuted the old monk’s deceit.
“What a joke! You must be making this up from the government’s wanted posters!” Gong Jun exclaimed harshly. “Sixteen years ago, Ning Changyuan was still learning swordsmanship in the Tianshan Mountains, how could he forge a certificate for you?”
Mo Li communicated with Meng Qi using internal energy.
“Brother Meng, why does the Deputy Commander of the Jinyiwei get so angry whenever Ning Changyuan is mentioned?”
“I’m not sure, maybe out of rivalry?” Meng Qi also whispered back, “When I was in Yongzhou, I heard many conversations among martial artists and sects. Ning Changyuan, known for forging travel passes, is considered the number one swordsman in the world.”
Ning Changyuan’s martial arts skills were indeed high, and his determination was strong, resembling a swordsman who follows his own path. His way of adhering to his path, however, differed from other swordsmen; forgery and such sounded very mundane.
“Although Ancestor Qingwu is implicitly considered the number one master in the martial world, someone like Ning Changyuan, obviously younger than Ancestor Qingwu, is also highly regarded. Martial artists love to debate, and I heard a discussion at a tea stall about who would be the top master in thirty years.”
Meng Qi seemed interested, and Mo Li listened relaxedly.
—As the conversation wouldn’t involve him.
“Did they mention Ning Changyuan?”
“He was one, and the other was Golden Phoenix’s Young Master.”
Mo Li recalled the Golden Phoenix Young Master who insisted on grabbing him and pulling his hat, coughing lightly, “Golden Phoenix Young Master lacks some luck. If he stayed home and practiced martial arts, he might stand a chance.”
Facing an unmanageable opponent, survival until thirty years later might be uncertain.
Meng Qi thought about it and agreed.
“In addition to the so-called rising stars from various sects, I heard an interesting opinion. Many people doubt that Ancestor Qingwu is the current top master of the martial world.”
“Do they know about my teacher?” Mo Li instinctively asked.
“Not Qin… Mr. Qin.”
Meng Qi struggled to add a respectful title to Qin Lu’s name.
Age and seniority are unrelated; he must follow the doctor’s way of addressing him.
“Not Mr. Qin, many haven’t even heard of Xuanhu Divine Doctor,” Meng Qi shifted back to the topic, “They were talking about the person in front of you, Deputy Commander Gong Jun.”
“He’s that famous?” Mo Li was genuinely surprised.
Gong Jun’s martial arts skills were definitely first-class in the martial world, but not quite top-tier.
However, with time, as his internal strength deepened, he could indeed compete for the title of a top master.
Mo Li thought this as he listened to Meng Qi explain, “No, Deputy Commander Gong Jun is relatively unknown in the martial world. They were praising a mysterious sword expert, a Taijing resident, identity unknown, always appearing masked in black. This person’s swordsmanship is incredibly fast and unpredictable, with blue sword light, and can strike several times in an instant, leaving marks resembling bamboo segments. Known as ‘Bamboo Sword Guest’ in the martial world, ignoring the so-called segment-like marks, who does it remind you of?”
Mo Li: “…”
Had he missed something by not letting Gong Jun’s sword strike the wall?
Meng Qi enthusiastically continued, “Because the Bamboo Sword Guest became famous very early. When I was still a State Teacher in Taijing, I had vaguely heard of him. Now thinking back, Gong Jun gained fame in his youth, showing exceptional talent at eighteen but remaining composed and clear about his own abilities, choosing opponents of similar strength. As a result, people in the martial world now believe that the Bamboo Sword Guest must be at least fifty years old and has never been defeated, a force not to be underestimated.”
Before Mo Li could react, Meng Qi added,
“Also, there’s a nickname in the martial world called ‘Three Friends of the Cold Season,’ referring to Song Ya of Chunshan School, Scholar Mei of Tianshan School, and the mysterious Bamboo Sword Guest.”
“Do these three have any connection?” Mo Li asked, his expression stern.
If Gong Jun was friends with Song Ya, a notorious killer, Mo Li would need to reassess his opinion of the Deputy Commander.
“No, they have no relationship and probably have never met. People in the martial world like to group together individuals with similar nicknames under a unified title, thinking it’s easier to remember. Such as ‘Sword of the South, Sabre of the North,’ or the ‘Four Young Masters of Martial Arts.’ The most bizarre part is the rankings they create, like Golden Phoenix Young Master being ranked first among the Four Young Masters. I don’t know what the others think, but they might have fought several times just over these titles.”
Mo Li was speechless, gaining further insight into the lives of martial artists.
Gong Jun had interrogated the old monk into silence and then noticed Mo Li and Meng Qi silently conversing, realizing they were using secret sound transmission.
Not only were they whispering, but they also seemed quite happy about it — don’t ask how Gong Jun knew; Meng Qi’s expression gave it away. Previously indifferent and aloof, he now showed a hint of a smile.
Gong Jun thought he must not be fooled and couldn’t stay at Liuhe Temple any longer.
“I see Master Meng has everything under control, so I’ll return to the capital to report this matter,” he said, bowing and heading for the door.
Meng Qi didn’t stop him.
Gong Jun, surprised, tensed up and suddenly spun towards the window.
He broke through it and ran off faster than a rabbit, disappearing in an instant.
Mo Li looked at Meng Qi, “Aren’t you chasing him?”
“Aren’t you either?” Meng Qi replied, hands behind his back.
Both men smiled slightly, their eyes meeting and deepening their amusement.
“Since the doctor and I are on the same page, shall we discuss it?”
They continued their secret sound transmission, unconcerned about being overheard.
Author’s Note:
People in the martial world like to group individuals with similar nicknames under a unified title
—Forced group formation
—Then forcing group members to compete in popularity contests
