Chapter One Hundred: The Poisoned Orchid

Poisoned Guanyin whispered, “These past few days, my sect has suffered a great calamity. I am ashamed that I do not know who orchestrated this attack. The Golden Silkworm Sect is no insignificant presence in the martial world. For them to dare strike with poison, their backing must be formidable.”

Since the failed palace coup led by Zhang Yizhi, the Golden Silkworm Sect had retreated quietly to the Miao Territories, lying low for two years. Upon hearing of Li Chongjun’s failed rebellion and his death by the imperial guards during a prison break, Poisoned Guanyin resolved to personally lead a small group of trusted followers to the Central Plains in search of Qu Beiyuan.

Over a month ago, they arrived in Chang’an, first purchasing the Pure Water Manor as their base, then informing their informant in the capital—the owner of the Southern Goods Shop—to keep a close watch on news of Lan Wutong. Unfortunately, accustomed to operating in the Miao Territories, they had no connections in the north. Moreover, as fugitives wanted for treason, they dared not act openly. Thus, for nearly a month, their efforts bore no fruit.

Yesterday at noon, while debating whether to relocate, there was a sudden knock at the door of Pure Water Manor—a place unknown to outsiders. Mistaking it for a traveler seeking food and drink, they sent a disciple with some silver to deal with the visitor. Unexpectedly, when the door was opened, the man pushed past the disciple and entered.

Others rushed forward to expel him, but the man wore an exquisitely embroidered robe and fought with formidable skill, knocking down several disciples with a few punches and kicks. Furious, Tuotuo Mu and two other elite disciples prepared to unleash deadly moves.

The man, after exchanging several moves and realizing he was outmatched, sneered, “Is this how Poisoned Guanyin welcomes guests?” Alarmed, even Poisoned Guanyin herself could not remain seated. She appeared, ordering the disciples to stand down, then invited the man inside.

The man carried an extraordinary air but spoke with a mocking tone. Poisoned Guanyin asked his purpose. He said, “I have long heard of the Golden Silkworm Sect’s unparalleled mastery of poisonous arts. My master wishes to enlist your help. Unfortunately, without an introduction, I take the liberty to visit you directly. Please pardon my boldness.”

Poisoned Guanyin wished to avoid complications and was about to refuse. The man sneered, “You once aided Zhang Yizhi—why now reject my master’s sincere offer? Zhang Yizhi merely used charm to win favor; how could he achieve greatness? My master is a descendant of the imperial line, born with ambitions spanning the seas and the might of a dragon. With your help, your sect’s dominance in Jiangnan would be unstoppable. Refuse, and although my master commands countless heroes, the loss of one follower is insignificant. But your sect will lose its foothold. Don’t think hiding in the miasmic Miao Territories will guarantee survival. All lands belong to the emperor; when the army arrives, it will be annihilation for all. I urge you to reconsider.” His words were harsh and threatening.

Poisoned Guanyin, proud and unyielding, retorted, “A ruler should govern with virtue, not consort with exiles seeking lawlessness. Such a man ruling the realm would bring no blessing to the people.”

The man said no more, turned his back, and left with a cold smile.

Foreseeing trouble, Poisoned Guanyin packed her belongings that night, planning to leave Chang’an at dawn. Unexpectedly, a large group of black-clad assassins stormed Pure Water Manor under cover of night, slaughtering indiscriminately. Though small in stature, the black-clad men were ferocious, wielding narrow curved sabers and hacking wildly at anyone in sight.

The Golden Silkworm Sect was famed for their poisonous arts and venomous insects, not martial prowess. Here in the northwest, amid the freezing winter, their poisons were dormant, their bodies stiff and sluggish. Moreover, their numbers were few, taken by surprise, resulting in many disciples falling in pools of blood.

In the end, only six elite disciples and a dozen followers remained by Poisoned Guanyin’s side. Though fierce, the black-clad assassins were no match in skill; many fell to blades and spears. Still, they showed no fear, pressing on relentlessly. After dozens of deaths, a strange command was shouted; the assassins withdrew slowly. A masked man approached with a sword, tall and slender, calm and composed.

Poisoned Guanyin knew him not to be underestimated and ordered her followers to retreat. She herself wielded a whip in her left hand and a Miao knife in her right, leaping forward. Yet the man’s swordsmanship was exquisite, difficult to counter. Poisoned Guanyin secretly hurled a poison mist pellet.

The pellet explodes on impact, releasing toxic vapors. Yet the man used a sticky technique to catch several pellets on his sword, neutralizing the poison by slicing them into harmless fragments and gently setting them down. After less than thirty exchanges, he wounded her arm.

Seeing their leader injured, the disciples charged recklessly. Tuotuo Mu, Mo Ai, and Wali Lang, the strongest among them, stayed behind to cover the retreat, ordering three others to release poison smoke from bamboo tubes.

The man, poised to strike leisurely, was suddenly agitated by the smoke and unleashed deadly moves. The three disciples perished almost instantly. Yet the poison smoke deterred him enough for the others to drag Poisoned Guanyin away from Pure Water Manor.

Lan Wutong listened carefully but could not discern the background of these people, who seemed to know her investigation in detail and resorted to assassination when persuasion failed. Though the man claimed his master was a descendant of the imperial line, there were dozens of princes and nobles; identifying him was impossible. The martial world had heard no mention of such a formidable figure.

After a moment of melancholy, Lan Wutong suddenly remembered something. She took from her bosom a letter and a token personally written by Qu Beiyuan and handed them to Poisoned Guanyin. “After two years of wandering, fortune has smiled upon us. I finally met the old master, who, as expected, is imprisoned alone in a secret location atop Tianshan. Without Li Chongyuan’s status as his disciple and my little intervention, finding him would have been impossible. I wish to rescue him, but the old master, considering the greater good, refuses. This letter is his own handwriting. Please read.”

Poisoned Guanyin took the letter and read it carefully. Tears welled in her eyes. It was written by her long-absent father to her and her mother:

“To my beloved wife and daughter Feiyan:

Having parted from the Miao Territories over twenty years ago, I think of you both day and night. I dream of the joyous family moments in Miao, waking with tears soaking my pillow.

Now that Lan Wutong has secretly met me to rescue me, I am grateful, yet upon deep reflection, I find it unwise. If I escape alone, it will surely bring the Golden Silkworm Sect and the Tianshan Sect into a deadly trap. I cannot bear to see my people slaughtered for my sake. Therefore, though it pains me, I refuse to leave. Do not despair; the heavens’ cycles harbor mysteries. When the time comes, I shall descend as a respected elder to reunite with you. Then, the northern and southern branches of the Tianshan Sect will reconcile and unite. Also, Lan Wutong is a young woman brave enough to undertake what many men dare not; I trust you will treat her kindly.”

After a long silence, Poisoned Guanyin wiped her tears softly. “Father’s choice is right. Though burdened with a dark past, he has never failed others in life. He refuses to endanger others and so we must respect his wishes. We will act in due time to repay the Tianshan Sect’s kindness. Soon we shall return to the Miao Territories. I will take this letter to mother—she will rejoice to know father lives.”

Noticing only two elite disciples remained by Poisoned Guanyin’s side, Lan Wutong asked, “Where is Bu Chengfeng?”

Bu Chengfeng was one of the sect’s seven greatest elite disciples and a childhood friend of Lan Wutong. Born of noble lineage, his grandfather was once the sect leader but was deposed for violating sect rules by secretly allying with their enemy, the Witch Sect. His descendants were barred from leadership; though highly skilled in martial arts and poisons, Bu Chengfeng was only allowed to serve as an elite disciple, never even an elder. Despite this, he bore no grievance and was always diligent, leading many battles against the Witch Sect where he fought at the forefront. His reputation was high.

Poisoned Guanyin tearfully replied, “After breaking out from Pure Water Manor, those black-clad assassins pursued us. Bu Chengfeng stayed behind alone to hold them off. Even after we had fled far, we could still hear his battle cries. Since then, no news. It seems his fate is grim.”

Lan Wutong stood stunned. She and Bu Chengfeng were close confidants. Hearing of his likely demise, she could not hold back tears.

Poisoned Guanyin asked, “I heard you travel with a pair of men and women. Who are they?”

Lan Wutong said, “The young man is Li Chongyuan, the lady Lin Qingli; both were once elite disciples of the Tianshan Sect, though no longer. We met them while wandering the martial world and rescued Zilan and Li Chongjun in turn.” She briefly recounted their rescues, then sighed, “I truly do not understand the Central Plains people. To cast out such talented disciples… it baffles me.”

Poisoned Guanyin, upon hearing that the honorable crown prince Li Chongjun had become a recluse in Tianshan, sighed deeply.

“Little sister,” she said, “you’ve suffered much outside. Why not return? Tomorrow we set off for the Miao Territories. After regaining strength, we will strike into the Central Plains to avenge this great wrong.”

Lan Wutong replied, “Sect leader sister, I cannot return yet.”

Poisoned Guanyin asked in surprise, “Why?”

Lan Wutong said, “If I return, the mystery behind Pure Water Manor’s attack will remain unsolved. It’s better I stay with Li Chongyuan and the others, wandering the martial world. Should we find any clues, I will inform you. Besides, I want to search for Bu Chengfeng. Please, sect leader sister, allow it.”

Her eyes reddened once more. Knowing her heart was heavy with concern for Bu Chengfeng, Poisoned Guanyin consented.

When Lan Wutong returned from the abandoned temple, it was already midnight. Fortunately, the city of Chang’an had lifted its curfew, allowing Li Chongyuan and others to find a beef noodle stall. They ate steaming bowls quietly while waiting for Lan Wutong, who looked troubled. Not wishing to disturb her mood, they ordered another bowl for her, but she declined. The three then found an inn to rest.

At dawn, Lan Wutong mounted her horse and rode swiftly out of the city. Li Chongyuan followed anxiously, leaving Lin Qingli behind to wait at the inn.

They reached a mass grave a few miles from Pure Water Manor. Poisoned Guanyin told Lan Wutong that Bu Chengfeng had fought alone here, covering the group’s escape. The site was strewn with broken tree branches and several shattered swords, evidence of a fierce battle.

Li Chongyuan examined a broken sword, puzzled. “This sword is unfamiliar—hard and broad like a horizontal blade but curved upwards, somewhat like a Miao knife, yet narrower.”

Lan Wutong whispered, “It’s a long sword used by wandering ronin from the East Sea. When I was in Fuzhou, I saw those people who crossed the sea; they all wielded such swords.”

Li Chongyuan asked, “You mean East Sea men attacked your Golden Silkworm Sect? There should be no enmity between you; why would they do this?”

Lan Wutong replied, “Those men are cruel and merciless, caring only for money, not life. They were likely hired.”

After searching carefully, Lan Wutong found a small curved dagger with an ivory handle hidden in the grass. Seeing it, tears streamed uncontrollably. She was nearly certain Bu Chengfeng had perished.

This dagger was once her own. When the Golden Silkworm Sect entered the Central Plains to join Zhang Yizhi’s forces, Bu Chengfeng stayed behind in the Miao Territories. Their deep bond led her to gift him this dagger as a memento before parting. In return, he gave her an ancestral black jade Buddha pendant.

Since then, Lan Wutong had wandered far and wide, never meeting Bu Chengfeng again—now separated by life and death.

Not far from the mass grave lay a large pile of ashes mixed with unburned bones, evidence that their enemies had desecrated the bodies after the battle.

After long silent tears, Lan Wutong whispered, “Brother Chongyuan, let us descend the mountain.” (To be continued.)