Chapter Twenty-One: "Little Uncle Bao" — The Fifth Master, Li Wuyi

Over the past few days, Gongsun Xi had been fighting with unbridled joy. She discovered that Gongsun You seemed to be preoccupied with some matter, leaving early and returning late, and for once, had failed to notice her sneaking out.

Early this morning, Gongsun You left again, and Gongsun Xi repeated her usual trick, slipping out of the inn through the window and hurrying toward the southern street of Ji City.

After several days of sweeping victories, Gongsun Xi grew ever more confident with each bout. This time, her target was the southern street.

In Ji City, the southern street was known to be the safest and most orderly thoroughfare, a place where the ancient ideals of honesty and trust still flourished. People left their doors open at night and would never pocket what others had dropped. Unlike the golden ages of old, however, this was only partly due to goodwill; more crucially, it was because the southern street was a gathering ground for rogues, drifters, and swordsmen of the martial world.

The old saying goes, “A rabbit doesn’t eat the grass by its own burrow,” and that was part of the reason, but the most important factor was the presence of a man called Li Wuyi, known as Lord Five.

Li Wuyi was renowned far and wide for his generosity and sense of honor, as well as his willingness to help others. People called him “Little Uncle Bao,” likening him to the fearless general Qin Qiong of early Tang times. He could move freely between the underworld and respectable society; those who walked the darker paths never failed to praise him.

Yet these days, Li Wuyi was beset with troubles. Outwardly a hero, he was in fact weaving secret plots in the shadows, conspiring with the Xi and Khitan clans, and had betrayed his country on countless occasions. Most notably, he had recently helped King Li Dapu of the Xi tribe defeat a Tang army of a hundred thousand, gravely weakening Tang’s hold in the northeast. But an unexpected mishap had led to today’s predicament. Li Dapu’s beloved son had been killed by an obscure scholar, and nearly a thousand elite Xi soldiers had perished as well.

According to Xi custom, the dead must be buried on the steppe, for only then could they become its favored sons in the next life. After retreating with his army, Li Dapu immediately sent envoys to contact Xue Ne, hoping to ransom his son’s body. He knew that the two nations were hostile, and the price for the corpse would be steep, so he offered extremely generous terms.

The offer was so tempting that Xue Ne could scarcely refuse. Yet upon investigation, it was discovered that during the Xi rampage in Huairou County, their atrocities had so enraged the people that the corpses of all Xi soldiers had been mutilated and burned by grieving families, to appease the souls of the dead. Li Dapu’s son was no exception—indeed, his end was the most tragic of all: reduced to ashes, his remains scattered in the paupers’ graves outside Huairou.

The loss of his only heir, the only one fit to inherit the throne, was unbearable for Li Dapu—made worse by the cruelty of his death. Driven to fury and humiliation, Li Dapu now hated Pei Min with a passion, sending word to Li Wuyi to bring him Pei Min’s head as an offering to his son’s spirit.

Li Wuyi was not, in truth, an agent of the Xi or Khitan. He served another master, and his help to the steppe tribes was for his own purposes. He had never accepted Li Dapu’s overtures, and his own convictions had never wavered. He bore Pei Min no personal grudges, and with the Tang army just defeated, the times were already troubled enough—he had no wish to stir up more chaos without reason, and he made his position clear.

Yet he had not expected Li Dapu to issue an ultimatum: take Pei Min’s head, or all ties would be severed.

Li Wuyi was both shocked and furious. He hadn’t expected that his refusal to serve Li Dapu would now be used against him, making him a pawn in Li Dapu’s schemes. He regretted his earlier decisions.

Li Dapu’s intent was plain: if Pei Min was not eliminated, Li Wuyi’s true identity would be exposed. Li Dapu had nothing to lose; Li Wuyi was not his man, and no loss would be his own.

Faced with this threat, Li Wuyi was left with no choice. If his cover were blown, decades of careful planning would be ruined overnight. His own death did not matter, but his homeland would be implicated, and he would be forever branded a traitor.

But how could he dispose of Pei Min quickly and cleanly, and deliver his head to the Xi? Li Wuyi had no idea. He had no information on Pei Min, save that the man’s swordsmanship was extraordinary. He knew nothing of Pei Min’s master or what style he practiced—Pei Min had appeared out of nowhere, a master swordsman who had slain Li Dapu’s son.

Li Wuyi had risen to the rank of Lord Five precisely because of his caution and prudence—he never acted rashly without absolute certainty. A figure like Pei Min, beyond his intelligence network, was a source of great frustration.

“Lord Five!”

As Li Wuyi was pondering how to deal with Pei Min, he heard someone calling outside. The voice was deep and booming, nearly shaking the rafters. Though the caller was in the front courtyard and Li Wuyi in the rear, the sound carried as though they were side by side.

Without waiting for his servants to announce the visitor, Li Wuyi put on a broad smile and strode out front.

There, a burly man with a leopard’s head and round eyes came up to greet him. “Lord Five, if you don’t step in soon, Ji City’s martial world will have no face left in all of Youzhou!”

“Yide! What’s the matter? Come, speak slowly.” Li Wuyi greeted the man warmly, pulling him aside to sit down.

This warrior’s given name was Li Ming, born in Zhu County. Since childhood, he had idolized the legendary Zhang Fei, the Tiger General of Zhu County from the Three Kingdoms era. He had even changed his name to Yide, after Zhang’s courtesy name, and as he grew, his features came to resemble Zhang Fei’s own, earning him the nickname “Little Zhang Fei.”

Unlike the wily and courageous Zhang Fei of old, this Little Zhang Fei, Li Yide, was a straightforward, honest brute. Show him the slightest kindness, and he would gladly risk his life for you without batting an eye. Li Wuyi loved having such easily manipulated men around and went out of his way to befriend him.

No sooner had Li Yide sat down than he sprang up again, exclaiming, “There’s no time! That girl has already fought her way to our southern street!”

Li Wuyi had heard of a formidable young woman who had recently arrived in Youzhou, brazenly challenging all comers and defeating many of Ji City’s best fighters—even the renowned Ren Le had fallen to her sword. He had taken care to avoid such a person, unwilling to make himself a target. Yet now she had come knocking at his own door.

“So you’ve already crossed swords with her, Yide?”

Li Yide’s dark face flushed faintly with embarrassment. “I have. That girl was so arrogant, how could I put up with it? She took me down in just twenty moves. Damn it, how can a woman be that formidable? Did she start training in the womb or what?”

Li Wuyi was surprised. Li Yide’s martial skills were average, but he was born with unnatural strength and a hide thick as a bull’s. Beating him wasn’t strange, but to force him to concede in just twenty moves took real ability. Li Wuyi was about to reply when a servant hurried in: “Lord Five, there’s a young lady at the door who says she’s come to challenge you.”

Li Wuyi’s face grew solemn. “Be polite. Invite her in.”