Chapter Seven: A Calamity of Blood
Within the dilapidated main hall of Azure Bamboo Academy, Su Fan and Xiao Lin sat upright, though both appeared distracted and ill at ease. Lin Ling’s expression was peculiarly strained; she glanced at Su Fan, who kept his head bowed in silence, then at Xiao Lin, whose eyes were half-shut.
Su Fan’s hand gripped a short sword tightly. The bloodstains on its blade had long since dried; as his fingers brushed them away, the brittle residue crumbled to dust, as if his anxiety, too, was falling away with each stroke.
Lin Ling’s face grew more sallow, and she forced herself to speak in a low voice, “What plans do you two have now?”
Su Fan suddenly looked up, his tone cool, “Who are you, really? How do you know so much? And how did you recognize that jade tube as proof of a registered disciple of the Heavenly Origin Sect?”
Lin Ling’s expression darkened further. She looked at Xiao Lin, who remained motionless, eyes half-closed and silent, as if everything in the room had nothing to do with him. Yet the tremor in his hands as they gripped the chair betrayed his inner turmoil.
Lowering her head, Lin Ling paused, then said, “Very well, I’ll tell you. I’m the youngest daughter of the Lin family in Willow Town. I truly came here without any ulterior motive. My talent is insufficient, so my family forbade me from cultivating. Yet I’ve always had an affinity for alchemy, though my family wouldn’t allow it. The Master here tried to absorb my soul, but I carry a protective family treasure, so he could not harm me—though he isn’t aware of this. As for the jade tube, I’ve seen it before; several members of my family have received such tokens.”
Su Fan listened with half-belief, but out of consideration for her connection with Xiao Lin, he asked no further.
Xiao Lin abruptly released his grip on the chair and let out a long breath, his eyes snapping open. He walked to Lin Ling’s side and tugged her hand. “Su Fan, take the jade tube to the Heavenly Origin Sect and become a registered disciple. I’m not suited for the constraints of any sect.”
Lin Ling’s gaze became distant. “I, too, have a jade tube and a map to the Heavenly Origin Sect. Xiao Lin, you should go with Su Fan. The Master was right—you both have considerable talent. Your future in cultivation is boundless.” With that, she held out her jade tube to Xiao Lin.
He hesitated, frowning, but accepted both the tube and the map, murmuring, “And you? Where will you go?”
“I’m going home,” Lin Ling replied. “I’m not gifted and have no great love for the path of cultivation. I’m fond of alchemy, and at home I can pursue it.” Her words sounded resolute, but her face betrayed her reluctance. She pressed her lips together, gave Xiao Lin one last look, then turned and walked away without looking back.
Xiao Lin gave a bitter laugh, helplessness etched upon his features. He stood rooted, lost in thought. Su Fan hurried after Lin Ling, calling, “Miss Lin, your sword!”
She turned and smiled. “It has already recognized you as its master. It would do me no good—you might as well keep it as a token of our meeting.”
Su Fan clasped his hands and said, “Take care.”
Lin Ling said no more, heading out of the academy.
The vast courtyard was carpeted with fallen leaves, untended and silent. Xiao Lin sat alone before the academy’s main gate, gazing down the mountain path in silence.
Su Fan approached, looked at Xiao Lin, and said quietly, “If you can’t let her go, then go after her.” Xiao Lin scrambled to his feet, forcing a smile, “No, I was just thinking… Once we reach the Heavenly Origin Sect, will we be bullied?”
Su Fan exhaled deeply. “Let’s go.”
Xiao Lin cast one last lingering glance at the academy, then lowered his head and followed Su Fan.
Azure Bamboo Mountain was not high, and the descent was short. They soon reached Willow Town at noon. The town was as bustling as ever, and Xiao Lin, complaining of hunger, dragged Su Fan to a meal. After eating, they resumed their journey.
Laughter and chatter filled the road; hawkers watched passersby with eager eyes, hoping for that dream customer who would buy out their entire stock and let them rest early for the day.
Under the slanting sun, the weeping willows by the roadside looked withered and sickly. An old man came toward them, his hair and beard entirely white, exuding an air of otherworldly refinement. In one hand he carried a bell, in the other, a signboard. On it, in bold, flowing script, were the words: “Heaven and earth turn, rock crumbles, pine withers.” He was unmistakably a fortune-teller.
Xiao Lin had already regained his usual lively demeanor, glancing about with curiosity. Su Fan, by contrast, was quieter and more reserved.
From a distance, Su Fan noticed the old man—and the old man seemed to notice him as well. As they drew closer and passed each other, Su Fan couldn’t help but glance back.
The old man, as if sensing something, turned abruptly and called out with a smile, “Young man, your brow is clouded, your face is shrouded in deathly energy—you are destined for bloodshed, a great misfortune looms!”
Startled by this sudden pronouncement, Su Fan froze and turned back. “Elder, what do you mean by that?”
Xiao Lin, seeing this, hurried over, pulling Su Fan away and glaring at the old man. “All swindlers say such things. Let’s go before he cheats us.”
The old man smiled without protest, his gaze still on Su Fan. “Your friend is right—many such fortune-tellers abound, and most are frauds. But there are few left who can truly read fate as I can.”
Su Fan’s frown eased a little. Before Xiao Lin could speak, he asked, “Then, Elder, would you read my fortune?”
The old man smiled and glanced at Xiao Lin. Then, quietly, he said, “Young man, you carry a heavy aura of death. For someone your age, you have experienced things even elders can scarcely imagine.”
Xiao Lin hesitated, but did not refute him.
The old man turned to Su Fan. “You have a sorrowful look about you—not the bearing of one born to wealth.”
Su Fan nodded. “Indeed, I am from a farming family.”
The old man stroked his beard. “Your gaze is dim, and you have a mole on each side of your face—yet the left is much fainter. I’d wager you were raised by your mother, your father having left home for many years.”
Su Fan was stunned. “You are exactly right. My father has indeed been gone many years, and my mother raised me alone. But Elder, you mentioned a calamity of blood—what do you mean?”
The old man smiled. “Let me see your left hand.”
Still puzzled, Su Fan held out his hand. The old man studied his palm, his smile gradually fading into solemnity.
Seeing the old man’s grave expression, Su Fan asked, “Is there a problem?”
The old man gently released his hand, murmuring, “How odd. At first glance, there was something there, but the more I look, the less I see. Now, I can see nothing at all.”
Xiao Lin glanced at Su Fan and said, “If he can’t see, let’s just be on our way.”
Su Fan, though dissatisfied, saw that the old man was lost in thought and had no choice but to turn away.
Suddenly, the old man called out, “Though I cannot divine your fate, young man, I can still see something of your companion’s. Would you like me to read it?”
He was speaking to Xiao Lin, who replied without turning, impatience in his voice, “I don’t believe in fate. And if fate does exist, I’ll change it by my own hand.”
The old man shook his head and sighed, “If you persist in obstinacy, there’s nothing I can do. Yet since we are fated to meet, let me give you a warning: your life will be beset by romantic entanglements.”
Xiao Lin ignored him. Su Fan bowed to the old man, about to leave.
The old man added, “Young man, you have a kind face. Though I cannot see your future, I advise you: put away the short sword you hide in your sleeve.”
Su Fan stood there, thoughtful, watching the old man’s retreating figure.
The rest of the way, neither Su Fan nor Xiao Lin spoke. Xiao Lin, who had regained his composure earlier, now fell into contemplation after the old man’s words. Su Fan, too, kept mulling over the advice—“put away the short sword in your sleeve.”
Unnoticed, night had fallen. They had walked beyond Willow Town into open countryside, passing graves burning with ghostly lights in the fields. Though Su Fan felt uneasy, seeing Xiao Lin’s calm demeanor gave him courage.
Suddenly, Xiao Lin stopped. “Wait—someone’s there.”
Startled, Su Fan drew his short sword, but recalling the fortune-teller’s words, slowly put it away. Following Xiao Lin’s gaze, he saw a figure gradually emerge.
The newcomer was dressed all in black, only a pair of cold eyes visible. His voice was icy. “Since you’ve noticed me, so be it. Tell me—was it you two who killed our young lady?”
Su Fan demanded, “Who are you?”
“I was hired by the Lin family of Willow Town,” the man replied.
Xiao Lin quickly asked, “Your young lady was killed?”
The man in black shot Xiao Lin a glance and barked, “Don’t try to hide it. I’ve been following you since you came down from Azure Bamboo Mountain. The Lin family’s young lady was taken by bandits from that mountain. I searched the mountain and found only an empty academy—traces of her and you two remained. That’s how I tracked you.”
Su Fan asked, “You say the Lin family’s young lady was taken to Azure Bamboo Mountain by bandits. But the Lin family is a cultivation clan—how could mortal bandits dare target cultivators?”
At this, the man in black burst out laughing, as if Su Fan’s words were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, his laughter uncontrollable.
Su Fan, puzzled, shouted, “What’s so funny?”
Suppressing his mirth, the man said, “The Lin family, a cultivation clan? Hardly. They’re little more than local gentry. If they were true cultivators, would they have hired me to catch you? If not for their promise to grow spirit herbs for me for ten years, I wouldn’t bother with this at all.”