Chapter Eighteen: The Wandering Swordsman Dugu

Meng Xiaoli was suffering from grievous injuries and an incurable venom. Outside, a tempest roared with thunder and torrential rain. Knowing her situation was dire, she remained in the dilapidated temple, attempting to tend to her wounds.

Just then, a group of merchants burst in, each carrying double axes and crates of goods. They began shaking the rainwater from their soaked outer robes. One remarked, "This wretched weather—it just had to rain, soaking us through. Thank goodness the cargo is safe; otherwise, we’d have no way to answer to the leader." Another replied, "Indeed. Why the leader insisted on leaving the south for this godforsaken place is beyond me. The people here can barely feed themselves; what kind of business is there to be done?" He turned and spotted the woman sitting on a low dais, her clothes dripping wet. Caught with nowhere to hide, Meng Xiaoli could only sit there, feigning composure.

The man nudged his companion and whispered, "Look, there’s a woman in there!" All eyes shifted from the rain-swept darkness to Meng Xiaoli.

The dozen men exchanged glances, their expressions turning predatory. They closed in on her, and one leered, "Miss, you must be lonely in this ruined temple all by yourself. Why don’t we brothers keep you company and help you unwind?" Sensing their ill intent, Meng Xiaoli reached for her sword to defend herself, but her severe injuries left her too weak to resist. The blade was knocked away, and the group lunged at her.

Thrown to the ground, Meng Xiaoli felt blood seep from the corner of her mouth as calloused hands began to tear at her clothes. Her desperate cries for help were swallowed by the howling wind and thunder. She wailed in agony, her tears mingling with the blood on her face. *Is this to be my end?* she thought, her heart breaking. *Not merely dying from poison and strikes, but suffering the ultimate humiliation? Does Heaven have no eyes?*

Just as a ruffian pressed his greasy lips toward her, forcing her head down so she could not escape, a stone flew from the darkness. It grazed the man’s mouth, shattering his lips and knocking out a front tooth, leaving a spray of blood in its wake. Without losing momentum, the stone struck another man in the center of his forehead, killing him instantly. The dislodged tooth spun through the air and embedded itself in the eye of the man who had been pinning Meng Xiaoli down. He released her, clutching his right eye and shrieking as blood poured through his fingers.

This "three birds with one stone" maneuver was executed with peerless mastery; the hidden expert possessed unfathomable internal energy. The sudden shift in fortune brought the men to a standstill. The ruffian, clutching his ruined mouth, scrambled to his feet. Seeing his fallen comrade, he shouted through his mangled lips and missing teeth, "Who is attacking us from the shadows? Do you not know we are from the Guanlie Gang? You must have a death wish to provoke us!"

Before he could finish, another stone whistled through the air and flew straight into his open mouth, exiting through the back of his skull. His voice was cut short. His eyes bulged in terror as he slumped over, dead on the spot.

Panic set in. The remaining men hoisted their axes, scanning the room and shouting into the shadows. Meng Xiaoli, weak and trembling, clutched her torn clothes and huddled in the corner.

When no one answered the Guanlie Gang disciples, one suggested, "Could that wounded wench be playing some trick?" Another growled, "Forget her, kill her first!" They raised their axes and charged at Meng Xiaoli.

Then, a flurry of stones whistled through the air, unseen but lethal. None of the men could dodge them; they were struck down one after another, falling to the ground without a single final cry.

Watching the dozen disciples perish in an instant, Meng Xiaoli was overwhelmed by the sheer, unimaginable power of the unseen expert. Outside, the storm raged, standing in stark contrast to the deathly silence within the temple. She remained terrified, fearing to move, wondering who had saved her and why they had not revealed themselves.

"Th-thank you for saving my life," she whispered weakly.

"Shut up!" the command boomed from above. "Wouldn't it be better to just get some sleep?" Meng Xiaoli looked up and saw an old man in red robes lying across the wooden beams of the vaulted ceiling, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded behind his head as he napped.

She was stunned. He must have been there long before she arrived to seek shelter from the rain. Not daring to speak, she lay back down to dress her wounds. But sleep was impossible. Not only was the room filled with corpses, but the toxins within her—the icy cold and the searing heat of the palms—were tearing at her body, leaving her organs burning one moment and frozen the next.

She realized with a bitter irony that the ruffians of the Guanlie Gang had been far kinder than the twin sisters who had poisoned her; at least the gang would have granted her a swift death. Now, between her injuries, the poison, and the emotional wreckage in her heart, she was trapped in agony.

She couldn't suppress her moans and cries, even though she tried to stay quiet for the expert’s sake. Finally, the old man let out a long sigh, sat up, and pointed at her. "What is wrong with you? You’ve been wailing all night—can’t you just get some sleep?"

"Sir," she replied helplessly, "I am gravely injured. I don't know if I'll last until morning. I am in pain; I cannot control it."

The old man in red wrapped his loose robes around him and huffed, "I know you're injured, but how bad can it be to warrant such noise?" He leapt down from the beams, landing without stirring a speck of dust, moving as if he were weightless.

He grabbed Meng Xiaoli’s wrist, his eyes closed. She saw an old man of about sixty with white hair and a white beard, phoenix eyes, arched brows, and a noble nose. Despite his wrinkles, his skin was fair and glowing, and his features hinted at the dashing man he must have been in his youth. His body was lean but powerful, his breathing slow and controlled. When he opened his eyes, they were as bright as a child’s; when he closed them, he seemed to shut out the world entirely.

He felt her pulse—racing wildly one moment, sluggish and frozen the next—and opened his eyes. "Have you crossed paths with the Moon-Shooting Sect?" Meng Xiaoli, ignorant of the sect, replied, "It was a pair of twin sisters; I don't know who they belong to."

The old man tossed her hand aside, annoyed. "So badly wounded... if I’d known, I wouldn't have bothered saving you, nor offended the Guanlie Gang." Then, he tugged his beard and chuckled, "Though, to me, Dugu the Elder, those Guanlie brats are just sparrows. They wouldn't dare seek revenge even if they knew it was me."

"Who is the Moon-Shooting Sect?" Meng Xiaoli asked. Dugu the Elder looked back, shocked. "You don't know them? They rarely come to the Central Plains. They reside on the Yunnan border, led by Meng E, and are masters of poison and witchcraft. Those twins are their disciples. They possess naturally opposing constitutions, which allowed them to develop a unique 'Ice-Fire Palm.' No one else can wield it with such power. It is their innate talent. How did you manage to provoke them?"

Meng Xiaoli shook her head weakly. "It’s a long story, and there's no point in telling it. In the jianghu, people fight over the slightest disagreement."

Dugu the Elder didn't press her and turned to return to his beam. "Am I going to die?" Meng Xiaoli asked. "Indeed," he replied bluntly. "Struck by both palms, you won't survive the day." She nodded. "Then there is no hope?" Dugu the Elder rolled his eyes. "Well, I could save you, but it would cost me a great deal of my own energy. I have no reason to do that."

She understood. "As death approaches, one's mind is filled with memories. Sir, I am in such agony that I fear I will disturb your sleep. I truly apologize."

Dugu the Elder didn't answer. He dozed for a while before opening his eyes. "Since you are near death and still worry about the thoughts of a stranger, you must be a kind soul. I have no reason to save you, but I don't mind chatting. Tell me, why did you come here?"

Unable to sleep, Meng Xiaoli hoped conversation would distract her from the pain. "My peaceful family was torn apart by a woman. She killed my daughter and bewitched my husband into trusting her implicitly. Heartbroken, I left home. As for my time in the jianghu, I didn't know the dangers. I was robbed by bandits, cheated by black-hearted shops, betrayed, poisoned, beaten, and humiliated. I have truly survived nine deaths. People would take my life over a blade of grass. The coldness I’ve experienced has shown me the true ugliness of human nature. Despite the hardships, I thought Heaven wanted me to live, but I suppose I have used up all nine of my lives. I have never done anything malicious, so why does all this retribution fall upon me? The hatred I have received will be branded on my heart for as long as I live." She began to weep.

Dugu the Elder sat up, his legs dangling from the beam. "The ways of the jianghu are what they are. It’s not just you; everyone experiences this. Do you not understand the law of the jungle?"

Shivering uncontrollably as the cold toxin took hold, she clutched her arms, her teeth chattering. "I understand. If I lived, I would master the martial arts. But I suppose I have no chance."

Dugu the Elder looked down at her. The cold had turned to burning heat, and she was writhing on the dais, unable to bear her clothes but afraid to remove them. She rolled off the dais onto the floor. Hearing the storm outside, she scrambled toward the entrance, throwing herself into the freezing rain, finding a small measure of relief in the cold.