Chapter Seven: The Fallen Heiress (Part One)

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Li Yujang felt puzzled and asked, “Master, is Elder Dugu really one of the top five figures on the ranking list? His position has remained unsurpassed for many years.”

Ji Shuishi replied, “Indeed, he was a peerless wanderer with exceptional martial skills, yet he never took disciples nor married. He lived a carefree, unrestrained life, roaming the world. He was known as the supreme leader of the heavens; in the mortal realm, he was the unrivaled master. He never sought fame or profit, nor did he dominate others, so few young people have ever seen him.” He continued, “However, that mischievous old rogue met a tragic end a couple of years ago. His corpse was partially devoured by wild beasts. The martial skills you demonstrated today reminded me of him.”

Li Yujang asked with doubt, “But how could such a master, who neither provokes trouble nor invites disaster, die so miserably?”

Ji Shuishi chuckled and said, “That has been a mystery to me for years. Back then, I received a report from an outer disciple saying a suspected corpse of Elder Dugu was found in the wilderness, ravaged by wild beasts, in a pitiful state. Only his usual red garment and accessories confirmed his identity. Logically, a martial artist of his caliber shouldn’t be harmed by wild beasts; and in the martial world, no one could stand against him. I thought perhaps he died suddenly from some strange illness. The matter was then set aside and long forgotten. Now recalling it, it’s like a sudden revelation. It seems Elder Dugu’s death is closely related to Meng Xiaoli.”

Still confused, Li Yujang pressed on, “But why would Meng Xiaoli harm him?” Then he speculated, “Could it be that he coveted Elder Dugu’s martial skills? No wonder his disciples all learn Elder Dugu’s martial philosophy.”

Ji Shuishi seemed intrigued and bowed slightly, interrupting, “I have a bold guess: this demonic Yan ghost princess, Meng Xiaoli, might actually be Elder Dugu’s disciple.”

Li Yujang was baffled. Recalling what Beggar Gang leader Liang Keyong said during the battle, he told Ji Shuishi, “Master, during the conflict between the two factions, the Beggar Gang was involved. I overheard Leader Liang say Meng Xiaoli’s martial arts had never been seen in the martial world before, but his lightness skill resembles that of the Xuanmo Sect, which is related to Bu Shan Fo Long Ye—meaning they are from the same sect.”

Ji Shuishi replied, “It’s not unusual for someone to master two families’ martial arts. But Liang Keyong has some connection with Elder Dugu. How could he fail to recognize that Meng Xiaoli’s skills are actually Elder Dugu’s?” After a moment’s thought, Ji Shuishi stood up. Li Yujang then heard the creak of a mechanism as Ji Shuishi fetched a scroll. Returning to his seat, he began to study it carefully. Li Yujang dared not disturb him and sat quietly by the low table, contemplating Meng Xiaoli’s matter.

After a cup of tea, from behind the white gauze, Ji Shuishi began to speak softly: “Some time ago, you sent news saying Meng Xiaoli found Long Ye’s residence and cruelly harmed his wife and daughter. I ordered people to follow Long Ye’s wife, Jin Xiaodao, and arranged for someone to disguise themselves nearby to gain her trust and uncover their emotional entanglements. Today, combining this with the Xuanmo Sect’s archives, we learned Meng Xiaoli’s true background. Unfortunately, Elder Dugu lived a lonely life. The Fengyun Pavilion only knew that in his later years, for unknown reasons, he accepted a female disciple as company. No one knows her current whereabouts. We can only guess. If that disciple is Meng Xiaoli, then what happened between master and disciple that led to Elder Dugu’s tragic death? That demonic Yan ghost princess is indeed cold and merciless. The master died without a proper burial and was left exposed in the wilderness. It seems Elder Dugu was most likely killed by that demon.”

Ji Shuishi paused and then instructed, “Tell those under you to spread the news: the demonic Yan ghost princess is Elder Dugu’s disciple, and not only did she cruelly murder him, but she also fed his remains to wolves—a truly inhumane act.”

Li Yujang grew worried and asked, “Master, this matter isn’t confirmed yet. Isn’t it improper to spread such rumors?”

Ji Shuishi replied indifferently, “Has the demonic Yan ghost princess not done enough evil? With her ruthless nature, this is most likely true. Even if the news spreads among the common folk, it need not bear the Fengyun Pavilion’s name.”

Li Yujang bowed and accepted the order, then asked, “I always feel the evil of the demonic Yan ghost princess stems from more than just emotional matters.”

Ji Shuishi rolled up the Xuanmo Sect scroll and returned it to the bookcase, smiling: “Don’t overestimate women. In their eyes, it’s either love or death. All women in the world are like this.” He then briefly discussed the background of the demonic Yan ghost princess Meng Xiaoli with Li Yujang, offering some conclusions before resting.

Time reversed; the years slipped by.

It is said that the founder of the Xuanmo Sect amazed the world with a set of lightness techniques. Seizing the opportunity, he recruited disciples and established the Xuanmo Sect. Unfortunately, besides the lightness skill, his martial arts had no particular strengths. In the martial world, relying solely on lightness, no matter how extraordinary, was insufficient to make a mark. Gradually, no one wished to join, and the sect waned, passing down only a few generations before dying out. The last generation left only a young man and a young woman: Long Ye and Meng Xiaoli.

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Both Long Ye and Meng Xiaoli were orphans who lost their parents in the Jingnan turmoil—one was eight years old, the other five. They were adopted by the last descendant of the Xuanmo Sect, who taught them the sect’s martial arts. Over time, Long Ye and Meng Xiaoli developed feelings for each other. Thirteen years later, both came of age and arranged their marriage. The following year, Meng Xiaoli gave birth to a daughter named Long Ze. The family then lived a secluded, peaceful life in the forest.

Meng Xiaoli and Long Ye’s married life was tranquil and happy until two years later, one summer day, when Meng Xiaoli was playing with their daughter in the courtyard. A ragged, staggering young woman appeared, swaying as she approached. Just at the gate, she collapsed.

Meng Xiaoli glanced over and told her daughter Long Ze to stay put, then approached the woman. She was emaciated and faint, nearly unconscious from hunger.

Meng Xiaoli helped the woman inside and fed her a bowl of porridge. The woman gradually regained consciousness. Seeing Meng Xiaoli and the little girl, she turned over with effort and said, “Thank you for saving my life, thank you.”

Meng Xiaoli supported her gently and said, “Life in the martial world is not easy; everyone may face wandering and hardship. It’s no trouble to help.”

The woman, seeing Meng Xiaoli’s kindness, pleaded earnestly, “Kind-hearted lady, I have nowhere to go. Please let me stay and serve as a maid. I can work and won’t ask for wages. Just a meal three times a day is enough.”

Meng Xiaoli hesitated, then smiled, “You may stay a few days. Once you regain your health, you can go wherever you wish. There’s no need to become a maid here.”

Hearing this, the woman wept bitterly, sobbing, “I have nowhere else to go. I beg you to take me in. Please have mercy. I won’t trouble you.”

Faced with such pleading, Meng Xiaoli’s heart softened, and she agreed, “Alright, you may stay here for now. But remember, if you want to leave one day, you can go anytime. I won’t force you.”

The woman thanked her profusely, wiping tears and sniffling, and tried to get up to work. Meng Xiaoli firmly stopped her. Suddenly, their daughter called out, “Daddy!” and happily ran out.

Meng Xiaoli turned to see Long Ye returning from hunting. She went out to greet him. Long Ye entered, holding their daughter, kissing and hugging her. Seeing another woman inside, Meng Xiaoli explained, “This woman has nowhere to go and wants to be a maid here to help with the household.”

Long Ye sized up the ragged woman. Concerned she might be expelled, the woman quickly bowed repeatedly. Long Ye sensed no internal energy from her and knew she possessed no martial skills. Even if there were problems, Meng Xiaoli’s skills could protect them.

He said to Meng Xiaoli, “If she’s truly a wanderer, let her stay for a while. Once she recovers, let her go.” Then he turned to another room. Meng Xiaoli followed, “I agree.”

Hearing this, the woman hurried to wash her face and hands in the courtyard, then took up the broom to sweep. Meng Xiaoli advised her a few times, but she ignored the advice, so Meng Xiaoli let her be.

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That evening, seeing the woman filthy, Meng Xiaoli boiled water for her bath, gave her clean clothes, and tidied her up. Now seeing her clearly, the woman’s skin was fair, with willow-shaped brows, almond eyes, cherry lips, and a delicate face—a standard beauty. Her hands, though calloused, bore fresh wounds. Compared to her, Meng Xiaoli seemed pale.

After a few days, Meng Xiaoli noticed the maid was hardworking but clumsy, awkward at every task. She seemed unlike one from a poor background. Curious, Meng Xiaoli invited her to sit in the courtyard and eat fruit together, asking, “What’s your real name?”

The maid wiped her hands with a handkerchief, cleaned the fruit, and answered, “My name is Jin Xiaodao. My father was once an official in the imperial court. Due to a momentary lapse, he was caught in a trap. The court is complicated; a local power accused us and raided our home. My family was slaughtered. I was secretly sent out by the household servants, barely escaping with my life.”

Though Jin Xiaodao survived, she had no home in the vast world. She was deceived by human traffickers and sold into servitude. After many transfers, she lost her virtue and realized how treacherous the martial world is, how dark and terrible human life can be.

From Yangzhou Prefecture, she was sold north and worked as a rough servant in a mansion. Unable to do chores well, she suffered constant abuse and beatings, always longing to escape. Never letting down her guard, one night she seized an opportunity and fled desperately, running far from her captors, but unaware of where she had ended up.

Calming down, she thought of her noble birth as the daughter of a high-ranking official, having enjoyed wealth and luxury. How could she be reduced to a servant? Her fate could not be so bleak. She resolved to fight her fate, believing she had a greater destiny.

Yet her stomach betrayed her. The constant hunger pangs tormented her. Without shelter at night, a lone woman dared not sleep on the street. Venturing to the countryside, she feared wolves and tigers. She finally found a dilapidated temple inhabited by vagrants who pounced on her like starving wolves. She kicked and fought them off, and they sulked away to sleep.

Frightened, Jin Xiaodao cried and ran, then sat beside a tree. Hunger, cold, dampness, and the howls of wild beasts made sleep impossible. She longed for her home’s warmth—the servants, the stove, the silk bed. Drowsy, half-asleep, she endured the night until dawn.

Dizzy, hungry, and weak-legged, she returned to the market. The northern region was desolate due to palace construction, with suffering citizens and skeletal beggars everywhere. Corpses of the starved lined the roadside.

Only those who could afford steamed buns were considered wealthy. Seeing the steaming buns, her stomach growled louder. The buns were right before her, but she couldn’t reach her own stomach. Approaching too close, the vendor would curse and chase her away. Jin Xiaodao thought, “If being scolded could earn me two buns, I’d accept it.”

Walking and watching, she lamented that the world’s riches and sorrows, though so close, were utterly irrelevant to her. Once she wore fine silks and enjoyed luxury, now she couldn’t even get a bun.

She regretted, “If things hadn’t happened so suddenly, if I’d been disguised as a servant and sent away hurriedly, even bringing a gold ingot would have amazed these small merchants. Or at least taking a pearl flower or hairpin to pawn would have eased things and gotten me food. But then I think, even if I had, those traffickers would have robbed me on the way.”

She hated her own hunger, “This stomach is really disobedient, always demanding food. If people could live without eating or drinking, why must I live so humbly? I remember a servant once said he survived seven days of hunger at his worst. Why am I starving to death now?”