Chapter 8: A Nightmare

Under Yu Jing’s guidance, the group made their way toward the valley where the elder Xiao Xiang resided. Not until dusk did they finally spot the great mountain, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, every blade of grass and leaf upon it appearing breathtakingly beautiful. “My master lives at the foot of this mountain,” Yu Jing explained. “That place is called the Cliff of Broken Longing. Master has dwelled there for many years.”

“The Cliff of Broken Longing? Isn’t that the place from The Return of the Condor Heroes?” I muttered to myself.

“Brother Li, what are you talking about?” Xu Qinghuan asked.

“Brother Yunfei, why don’t you just tell them the truth?” Zhang Lei said, chewing on a blade of grass.

“At this point, there’s no need for secrecy.” Thus, I revealed my origins to them, though Xu Qinghuan seemed somewhat incredulous.

“Brother Li, you say you’re from another world—then how did you come here?” Even Xu Lin looked doubtful. I had no choice but to provide some proof. I reached into my pocket, but found nothing save for a photograph. A photograph? How could I have a photo on me? I pulled it out, and realized it was a picture of Liu Tingting and me together, one I had always kept in my pocket. Before coming to this world, I had been so busy with work, rarely making time for her. Perhaps it was right that she left me…

Xu Qinghuan snatched the photo from my hand. “Brother Li, is this you in the picture? What kind of clothing are you wearing?”

Everyone gathered around, curious. “Brother Li, when did you paint a portrait of Miss Qinghuan?” Yu Jing asked.

“I didn’t. That’s a photograph—not a painting!”

Xu Qinghuan’s cheeks flushed noticeably. Looking at the woman who so closely resembled Liu Tingting, with the same expression as when we first met, involuntarily reminded me of that twilight…

“I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“It’s fine.”

“So many documents—what do you do for a living?”

“My name’s Liu Tingting. I’m the finance department manager.”

“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Li Yunfei.” I extended my hand, but she didn’t take it. Awkwardly, I withdrew my right hand.

“Let me give you a lift.” I opened the car door.

“No need. Goodbye.”

Scenes from the past replayed in my mind, impossible to dispel… The sunset is infinitely beautiful, but dusk is near. Tingting, are you well? I miss you so much. Farewell—perhaps we’ll never meet again…

“Brother Li, why are you crying?” Xu Qinghuan asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. The wind’s strong, some dust got in my eyes.” I wiped the corners of my eyes with my sleeve. There was no point dwelling on it; we still had a journey ahead. I asked Yu Jing about the Cliff of Broken Longing. According to him, “My master came here ten years ago. As for the origin of the name, I actually don’t know.”

“Have you ever heard of a man named Yang Guo?” I asked offhandedly.

“No. Are you looking for someone, Brother Li?”

“No, just asking.” So it seemed the Cliff of Broken Longing existed even before the era of Yang Guo. Lost in thought, we continued until night fell. The group suggested we find a place to rest, as the road ahead was still long and the mountains were filled with strange beasts. Only now did I understand the saying, “Looking at a mountain tires you to death.” After such a long trek, I was exhausted. We found a large tree and planned to spend the night beneath it.

I stumbled along beneath the streetlights—it was already midnight—when I saw a couple standing by the guardrail. The man was flabby and vulgar-looking; the woman was tall, alluring, and striking. As they turned, illuminated by the faint glow, I saw that it was Liu Tingting with that sleazy man. Rage burned in me, and I strode towards them.

“Tingting, come home with me,” I slurred.

“Yunfei, what are you doing here? You’ve had too much to drink,” Liu Tingting said with concern.

“Get lost, punk! Tingting doesn’t want you anymore—why are you still clinging on? Just look at yourself! With that pathetic salary, you think you can support her or make her happy? Drop dead! Don’t let me see you again!” The man flung a wad of cash in my face, then dragged Liu Tingting away.

“Tingting, don’t leave me, don’t go…”

“Brother Li, what’s wrong? Having a nightmare?” Yu Jing asked with concern.

The memory of that night before my suspension surfaced once more—misfortunes never come singly. Shaking my head, I told Yu Jing, “You rest. I’ll take the watch for a while.”

Yu Jing didn’t argue, and soon lay down in a clean spot. I didn’t know if fate was toying with me, or if I was simply unlucky by nature, but just as Yu Jing fell asleep, a group of mysterious figures surrounded us, armed and clearly ill-intentioned. I hurriedly woke the others.

The leader was a bald man wielding a broadsword. Resting the blade arrogantly on his shoulder, he called, “Brothers, charge! Take them alive!”

“Wait, uncle, we’ve never met before—why resort to violence?” Zhang Lei asked.

“Haha, true, we’ve never met. If not for the bounty on your heads, I wouldn’t bother killing you—especially that girl, heh heh.” The bald man’s leering grin was sickening.

“Enough talk. Zhang Lei, protect Miss Xu. Brother Li, Uncle Xu, break out with me!” Yu Jing commanded.

There was no time for further words—a fierce battle erupted. Relying on his agility and his famed “Catching Shadows Like the Wind” technique, Yu Jing swiftly dispatched two of the assailants. Although Uncle Xu’s skills were somewhat inferior, his physique—honed from years of performing—was formidable, his body nearly invulnerable. Though he took a blow from the enemy’s blade, it rang harmlessly off him, leaving him unscathed and much to my relief.

I threw myself into the fray, venting all my anger on our attackers. None who fell at my feet survived. A cold smile crept across my lips as I surveyed the carnage. Only five of us remained standing: Yu Jing and me, the panting Uncle Xu, and across from us, the bald man and a young swordsman at his side.

“Not bad, not bad,” the bald man laughed, clapping.

“It’s a pity, really. With skills like yours, I almost regret having to kill you.” He signaled to the youth, who responded by darting forward, his sword trailing sparks along the ground. The youth’s approach was menacing, exuding an aura I’d only seen in television dramas—the kind that only true masters possessed. I doubted this boy was a master, but his presence and those chilling eyes triggered a sense of danger.

Summoning my inner energy, I gathered a ball of white force in my right hand and hurled it at him. The youth merely swung his sword before him, and with a resounding crack, the force exploded harmlessly. His long, disheveled hair nearly covered his face, but his cold eyes were terrifying.

Yu Jing stepped in front of me. “Yunfei, let me handle this.”

He drew a narrow black cloth from his sleeve and tied it over his eyes. Though I stood behind him, I could sense not the slightest change in his expression—still as composed as when I first met him. I quickly fell back, giving him ample room to maneuver. Until then, I had thought my own skills were close to Yu Jing’s, but watching him now, I realized how vast the gulf truly was.

Drawing his “Crescent Blade” from his side, Yu Jing charged at the youth with astonishing speed. The blade swept past the youth’s throat, but he turned his head calmly, executing a fierce “Autumn Wind Sweeping Leaves” move within a five-meter radius. I could see the very air rippling around him, waves radiating like ripples on water, forcing us to retreat involuntarily. The sheer power filled me with dread—he was that strong!

Yu Jing flipped backwards, flinging six silver needles from his sleeve with blinding speed. Only then did the youth become cautious, dodging for his life, his eyes on Yu Jing now serious. The youth steadied himself, sword in right hand, and ran his left along the blade. Instantly, the sword gleamed with a crimson light—blood from his hand dripped onto the earth, sending a chill through us all. They clashed again, their figures weaving and blurring in the moonlight, neither yielding.

“He’s performing a blood sacrifice on his sword!” Zhang Lei exclaimed.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“He’s a demon cultivator—focused on soul cultivation. Sacrificing blood to the sword boosts his power, but demon cultivators usually favor ranged attacks. This one seems different…” Zhang Lei explained.

Twenty rounds passed, the youth’s fierce swordplay never relenting, but Yu Jing’s martial arts were not only undaunted—they surpassed the youth by a hair. Yu Jing’s white hair and crescent blade, the youth’s sharp sword and piercing eyes, and the dazzling flashes of blade and sword made the fight mesmerizing. This youth was no ordinary foe—if it were me, I wouldn’t have survived ten rounds against him. No wonder the Cang Emperor sought Yu Jing’s death so desperately—he had survived for good reason.

Gradually, the pace slowed. Both opponents were disheveled and battered. After fifty rounds, the youth began to falter, retreating repeatedly under Yu Jing’s relentless assault, anxiety and panic finally showing in his eyes. Yu Jing, blindfolded, revealed nothing of his own emotions, remaining as calm as ever. In the distance, the bald man paced restlessly, cursing, “Damn it, are you done yet? What a waste of money!”

Clang!

The Crescent Blade knocked the sword from the youth’s hand—it fell to the ground with a metallic clatter. Yu Jing landed lightly, as composed as ever. The youth staggered back, disbelief etched on his face. Yu Jing removed his blindfold and said coldly, “I won’t kill you today. Leave!”

“Not bad. My turn!” The bald man brandished his broadsword and charged at Yu Jing, swinging with little warning. Yu Jing merely glanced at him coolly and dodged.

Zhang Lei leapt to attack. “Big guy, your opponent is me!”

“Hah! You? If you want to die, I’ll oblige you!”

“Oh? Let’s see about that.” Before he’d finished speaking, Zhang Lei was already upon him, his fists raining down like a storm. In under a minute, the bald man had taken over two hundred blows. This was Zhang Lei’s martial art—the “Storm Fist” from “Wind and Cloud”—its strength lay in relentless assault, leaving the foe no chance to fight back. It reminded me of Wing Chun.

The bald man gritted his teeth. “I underestimated you, but not again!”

He spun his broadsword, sending it whirling at Zhang Lei like a propeller. Zhang Lei dodged nimbly, then taunted, “Is that all you’ve got?”

After a dozen rounds, the bald man was defeated. I watched with interest, guessing he was now cursing his own greed. Zhang Lei, barehanded, knocked him to the ground and claimed his broadsword. With the blade pressed to his throat, the bald man cried, “Heroes, spare me! I was forced into this, just trying to survive—please, let me go!”

Zhang Lei didn’t let him finish—he cut him down on the spot. Only the wounded youth remained. Yu Jing moved to finish him, but the youth hurled a hidden weapon and fled into the night-shrouded forest, vanishing swiftly. The fierce battle was over at last. Yu Jing leaned against a tree, tending his meridians. Though he’d been hurt in the fight, he hid it so well that even the youth and the rest of us were fooled.

Yu Jing had always said, never let your fear show before your enemy—always act as though you’re the stronger, and you will be. Zhang Lei was delighted that his skills had improved through real combat—this “Storm Fist” truly was formidable.

Speaking of the “Storm Fist,” its story began years ago, when Zhang Lei had stumbled upon it by chance. Each of us, carrying our own thoughts, quietly tended our wounds. Dawn was near, so we resigned ourselves to waiting until we found the elder Xiao Xiang before we could rest properly. As the sun rose, we gathered our things and pressed onward.

(Two chapters have been combined here for easier reading.)