Unintended Immortality

The Daoist walked steadily from west to east, leaning on his bamboo staff. The jujube-red horse silently followed, carrying their luggage.

Beside him, the little girl also held a bamboo staff, hers much thinner than the Daoist’s.

She ran ahead, holding her staff high. Tied to the top was a slender grass string, and fastened to the string was a small white cloth about the size of a cat’s paw. As she ran, the wind caught the cloth, making it flutter and spin. It looked less like a piece of cloth and more like a butterfly.

The butterflies of the grasslands, as simple-minded as they were, seemed to believe it was indeed a butterfly. They began to follow the white cloth, soon forming a neat line trailing behind it.

The little girl ran, waving her staff, the cloth fluttering.

Behind her stretched a long, orderly line of butterflies.

When she had run far enough, she turned in a wide circle across the grasslands before running back. Passing behind the Daoist and the jujube-red horse, she then continued forward again, as if tireless.

“Daoist priest, look!”

“Hmm.”

“Impressive.”

“...”

Not only did she seem tireless, but she also didn’t smile—her face remained serious. Yet her eyes shone with an unusual brightness, filled with curiosity, and her voice rang out clear and crisp.

She ran back and forth, holding her bamboo staff high.

The Daoist occasionally glanced at her, the scene seemingly picturesque.

Anyone watching would find it hard to imagine that this was the contested border between Great Yan and the eighteen grassland tribes of the northern grasslands, a place where rival scouts frequently crossed paths, gathering intelligence and often clashing in skirmishes.

After a long time, the little girl appeared to tire. Her pace slowed, but she continued waving her bamboo staff in circles around her, keeping the cloth fluttering to ensure the butterflies stayed in pursuit.

Then, in one quick motion, she reached out with her hand.

“Swish!”

She easily caught one of the tiny butterflies.

Before the Daoist could avert his gaze, he saw her lift her hand toward her mouth.

“...”

Only then did the Daoist look away, directing his eyes toward the horizon.

“Hmm?”

Lady Calico, just about to reach for another lucky butterfly to turn into her impromptu snack, suddenly paused mid-action. She turned her head toward the distance.

From beyond the hill, faint hoofbeats could be heard. Before long, figures appeared atop a distant hill.

They were grassland men, their attire markedly different from that of Great Yan. Without armor, they were lightly equipped with curved sabers and bows, ready for swift action. They quickly noticed the lone man, child, and horse.

After a brief exchange of glances among themselves, they began riding toward them.

“Hya!”

A few sharp calls broke the silence.

With just one glance, Song You could tell they were scouts from the northern frontier. Like Great Yan, their units were composed of ten riders each.

As expected, before the group even got close, they began shouting. Their words were in an unfamiliar language.

Perhaps seeing that Song You, with his refined appearance, Daoist robe, lack of visible weapons, and the presence of a little girl, posed no immediate threat, they refrained from displaying overt hostility or murderous intent.

However, based on Song You's days traveling along the border, he knew it was unlikely they would simply let him leave. Even if they didn’t kill him outright, they would likely capture him or force him to accompany them.

Song You calmly turned to face them. Waiting until they approached, he spoke unhurriedly, “Please, return to where you came from.”

“Neigh!”

The horses abruptly halted, their riders momentarily stunned.

The horses beneath the northern scouts suddenly neighed and reared, coming to an abrupt halt. No matter how much their riders spurred them on, the horses refused to move forward. Instead, all the mounts turned around and began galloping back the way they had come.

The scouts were both shocked and furious, yanking hard at their reins in an attempt to stop the horses, but their efforts were futile.

In the end, the group that had appeared from beyond the distant hill disappeared over it once again.

“Impressive, Daoist Master!”

Lady Calico’s voice was soft and delicate, but she mimicked the tone of Heroine Wu from Changjing, turning to the Daoist while holding her bamboo staff.

“Would you like to learn?” Song You asked.

“If I learn it, will our horse listen to me too?”

“Doesn’t it already listen to you when you speak to it?”

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“Then it’s just like you, Lady Calico—it has its own thoughts.”

“But what if I learn this spell?”

“Lady Calico, you cannot use spells to make your friends obey.”

“Then I won’t learn it.”

The little girl turned her attention back to her bamboo staff and the white cloth tied to it. Only then did she notice that, in focusing so intently on the scouts earlier, she had forgotten to keep waving her staff.

The deceived butterflies, realizing the “butterfly” tied to the staff was dead, had all flown away.

“...”

The little girl didn’t get discouraged. Holding her bamboo staff, she resumed running. The Daoist also began walking again, continuing eastward.

In this direction, there was said to be a major military stronghold of Great Yan—Zhaoye City. It was quite renowned.

Back in Yidu, Song You had already heard of it from storytellers. It was one of Great Yan's five northern strongholds, and the furthest from Changjing in the north. Stories about it abounded, captivating the imagination of Great Yan's scholars and commoners alike.

However, the storytellers themselves did not know its exact location, only that it was in the northern region. It wasn’t until Song You reached the grasslands that he learned its approximate whereabouts.

Yet the vastness of the grasslands posed a challenge. With no map or guidance, it didn’t seem easy for Song You to find it. It was possible to miss it entirely, separated by just a single hill.

The journey stretched from afternoon into night.

Under a vast, starry sky as expansive as the grasslands themselves, Lady Calico once again gathered firewood and lit a campfire among the hills.

The Daoist boiled a pot of water and prepared dinner—a mix of dried beef and wild rabbit caught by Lady Calico.

However, the long night would not remain peaceful.

Cavalrymen from one side or another were roaming the grasslands even at night. Perhaps spotting their fire from afar, they approached cautiously to investigate. Before they could get close, Lady Calico, ever alert, detected their presence.

Once the group saw that the fire’s owner was merely a Daoist, they sent one rider forward to make contact, while the others held their bows and crossbows at the ready, maintaining a watchful stance in the dark.

“Who’s there?”

A voice came from the darkness, speaking in a familiar language.

One rider approached slowly under the starlit sky, gradually stepping into the range of the bonfire’s glow.

It was a sturdy man armed with a long spear and a bow.

The Daoist remained seated by the fire, holding a piece of dried beef in his right hand and a bowl of hot water in his left. Turning toward the approaching figure, he spoke calmly, “My name is Song You, from Lingquan County in Yizhou. I am a traveler wandering the North. Please, Captain, do not trouble yourself over me.”

“...”

The cavalryman approached closer, carefully scanning the Daoist, the calico cat by the fire, and the jujube-red horse resting nearby.

“Song You? Mr. Song?”

“Hmm?” Song You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Captain, you know me too?”

“Of course!” The rider immediately turned and shouted back to his comrades, “It’s Mr. Song!”

Then, dismounting quickly, he cupped his hands in a respectful gesture toward Song You.

“My surname is Feng. I am a cavalryman from the ninth regiment of the northern garrison, serving under General Chen. I was ordered to patrol the grasslands and, if I encountered a Daoist surnamed Song, named You, traveling with a calico cat and a jujube-red horse, to deliver a message: The northern frontier had enlisted the help of demons in their army.

“The general requests you to proceed to Yuanzhi City to assist.”

“Yuanzhi City?”

“Yes!”

“Where is Yuanzhi City?”

“Six hundred li east of here.”

“That far...”

“Yes, sir. We are stationed at Zhaoye City, but we received orders from Yuanzhi City to search for you while on patrol.”

“How did General Chen know I would be here?”

“That, I cannot say.”

“...”

Song You pondered for a moment, then pieced it together.

The message likely originated from Caotou Pass to the south. General Chen knew Song You had crossed the He Plains and Caotou Pass and was also aware of the grand gathering taking place ahead on the Duoda grasslands. He figured he would certainly attend it. Predicting that Song You would then continue northward after the gathering, this location made perfect sense.

It was a well-calculated move.

Meanwhile, the rest of the cavalry put away their crossbows and weapons as they approached.

Besides the scout surnamed Feng, there were nine other horses. Eight carried riders, many of whom bore visible injuries, suggesting they had recently engaged in combat. The last horse, led by one of the men, carried the corpse of a soldier clad in light armor strapped to its back. Several severed heads also hung from the saddle. Most of the group were armed with long spears, bows, and crossbows.

One by one, the riders dismounted and cupped their hands in salute to Song You.

Song You returned their salutes one by one and asked, “You’re all injured?”

“While on patrol today, we encountered a group of scouts from the northern frontier and engaged them,” the cavalryman surnamed Feng explained, his manner exuding a certain jianghu air. “We suffered some minor injuries and lost one of our comrades. Unfortunately, we couldn’t capture any of them alive, but we did bring back our comrade’s body.”

“You all seem to be from the Changqiang Sect[1]?”

“You’re familiar with the Changqiang Sect, sir?”

“By reputation—it’s well-known.”

“Some of us are.”

“I’m one of them...”

“So am I...”

“I’m Changqiang Sect’s Zhao Guanyi! At your service!”

“I’m Changqiang Sect’s Zhou Yitong...”

Several cavalrymen armed with long spears chimed in.

The North was in chaos, and heroes often rose during chaotic times.

Since traveling through Hezhou and Yanzhou, Song You had encountered many members of the Changqiang Sect, quite a few of whom had joined the military, where they often served as elite soldiers.

When he was in the South, Song You had heard storytellers rank Changjing's Yunhe Sect, Yizhou's Xishan Sect, and Yuezhou's Changqiang Sect as the “Three Great Sects” of the jianghu. The Yunhe Sect, based in Changjing, had ties to influential officials and enjoyed a dominant advantage in publicity. While despised by many in the jianghu, it was often proclaimed by storytellers as the premier sect.

The Xishan Sect had an excellent reputation among martial artists, its disciples renowned for their exceptional skills. It was said that anyone encountering them would be compelled to give a respectful thumbs-up. This left the Changqiang Sect ranked lower in the hierarchy.

However, seeing them now, Song You felt there might have been some inaccuracies in those claims.

In these troubled times, and with General Chen’s support, the Changqiang Sect had grown to such prominence that it might surpass the combined strength of Yunhe Sect, Xishan Sect, and other major jianghu sects.

“Just now, you mentioned that you’re from Zhaoye City?”

“That’s right.”

“Has Zhaoye City been retaken?”

“It was retaken two years ago.”

“I heard it was occupied by demons before?”

“You might not know the full story, sir...”

The cavalryman surnamed Feng began to explain.

Zhaoye City was Great Yan’s furthest military stronghold in the northern frontier's territory.

Why was it called Zhaoye[2] City?

Because in the vast expanse of these grasslands, the Great Yan garrison stood like a lone light in the pitch-black night, piercing the darkness and illuminating the surrounding region.

During the last major invasion by the northern frontier, Zhaoye City’s garrison held the line against the enemy’s onslaught for several years. Even as the men from the northern frontier crossed the northern border, overran the entirety of Yanzhou, and rode all the way to Beifeng Pass in Hezhou, slaughtering the people of He Plains, Zhaoye City in the farthest north still did not fall.

Cut off from Changjing, the defenders lost all contact with the capital. Even the court assumed that Zhaoye City had long since fallen.

When news finally reached Changjing that Zhaoye City still stood, it caused an uproar in the court.

It was said that at the time, voices advocating for peace negotiations were growing louder in the imperial court. Upon hearing of Zhaoye City’s steadfast resistance, Emperor Wu slammed the table and decided to continue the fight. This news reportedly inspired countless heroes across the jianghu, who, moved by anger and resolve, rushed to enlist.

However, Zhaoye City eventually fell.

Some claimed it was due to demons.

Others said that the northern frontier general at the time failed to provide timely reinforcements. When the city ran out of supplies, it finally succumbed. Fearing accountability, the general blamed the loss on demons.

Across the land, whether officials or commoners, scholars or warriors, all spoke of the events surrounding Zhaoye City with great interest.

It was a tale destined to be remembered through the ages.

1. Chanqiang literally means “long spear”. ☜

2. Zhaoye means “illuminating night”. ☜