Li-Qian's heart overflows with joy; the gladness shows at the tips of her eyes and brows. Gazing upon the pair before her — matched jade and paired phoenix, consummate as Heaven's own decree — she cannot help recalling the days when she and Wu-Tong first bound their fates together. Then the Jianghu was wind and rain, steel and hunger, and they leaned upon one another to live. Now the dust of those roads lies far behind, and love has found its rightful shore; a deep warmth rises in her chest. She lifts her cup lightly and laughs in a bright, ringing voice: "Raise your cups, all of you — to this flawless pair! May they know a hundred years in harmony, and may their joy never see an end!" The hall bursts in one accord; cups flash upward like a forest of lances, laughter shakes the rafters, and the toast is drained in a single pull. Warmth fills the chamber; blessing and rejoicing swell like a tide.
Under the roar of celebration, Master Qiu suddenly sets down his cup. His expression turns; the mirth drains from his face and a grave stillness settles upon him. After a moment's silent weighing, he turns to Wu-Tong and says, "Lord Wu — since the betrothal is agreed, the wedding may wait; but urgent affairs admit no delay. The True-God Palace has sent word to all under Heaven, proclaiming that on the twenty-fifth of the Fifth Month they will convene upon Mount Song to found the Alliance of Heavenly Dao, calling all factions to take part. Tell me — how should our Flying-Eagle Gang answer?" Though his tone is even, his eyes burn like coals; he has pondered this matter long, and now seeks to sound the depth of Wu-Tong's mind.
Wu-Tong lightly taps the table with his fingertip. His gaze grows distant and deep. "In these recent years," he says, "the True-God Palace has swelled with astonishing speed. Its lord, Tuo-ba Xing-ge, not long ago cast down the Nine-Heavens Lord Long Zhen-tian in a single duel, and so rose to instant fame. That he intends to master the realm of Jianghu is now beyond doubt. Now he calls for the founding of this Alliance of Heavenly Dao — such intent is not of small measure." He pauses, then lifts his eyes. "Since their letter has arrived, to ignore it entirely would be discourtesy; yet to accept without reserve would hand them a handle against us. In my judgment — send the Deputy in the gang's stead. Thus sincerity is shown, yet room for reversal remains. If matters prove difficult, say only that further counsel is needed upon return — a stratagem that offends none and binds us to nothing."
Master Qiu eases and laughs aloud. "Lord Wu speaks my very thought. Thus we advance and withdraw by reason, and the world may read our posture without grasping our throat." Inwardly he nods, gaining still greater regard for Wu-Tong: this man excels not only in the sword, but in the art of conduct — truly a pillar fit to bear a sect.
Wu-Tong then turns his head. "Brother Yun — has a summons to the Mount Song convocation reached you as well?"
Wang-Yun bows with clasped fists. "It has, elder brother. The Chief Escort has commanded that I attend on his behalf. I am already preparing to depart." His words are simple, yet within his breast the waters surge — for if Chiu-Ting might travel with him, it would be a boon bestowed by Heaven itself.
Liu-Yun, watching from the side, smiles with gentle mischief. "Master Qiu — since your son-in-law must go, and since your daughter too is a child of Jianghu, why not let the young lady accompany him? Their bond will ripen on the road, and she may open her eyes upon the world as well." Before her words have fully ended, she glances sidelong at Li-Qian; the two women exchange a knowing look — half auntly teasing, half true affection.
Master Qiu bursts into hearty laughter. Turning toward his daughter with feigned sternness, he says, "Ting-er — are you willing to travel with Young Wang… no — with your betrothed — to Mount Song?" Chiu-Ting, whose heart has long been pledged, flushes scarlet to the ears. Her head dips; her fingers twist the hem of her sleeve. She cannot lift her gaze before the hall, but within her breast tenderness rises like warm tide. In a voice soft as a gnat's wing she murmurs, "As Father commands…"
At this the company smiles all around. Master Qiu laughs louder still. "Ha! You see — a grown girl cannot be kept!" Then he turns to Wang-Yun, his face suddenly sober, his voice weighty with charge. "Yun-er." Wang-Yun rises at once. "Your son-in-law is here!" Master Qiu lays a firm palm upon his shoulder, eyes keen beneath the warmth. "The Jianghu is peril and teeth. Since you have pledged your life, you must guard hers with your own. This road is not a holiday — Chiu-Ting's safety is first in all things. Do not be ruled by heat of blood. Remember — though love weighs heavy, the duty of the sect weighs heavier still." Wang-Yun bows deeply, his heart pounding like surf upon rock. Within he vows: Whatever storms lie ahead, not a breath of harm shall touch her.
Zhao-Rou, smiling, suddenly speaks: "Brother Tong — since all roads lead to Mount Song, why not we also go and watch the storm unfold?" Wu-Tong answers with a faint laugh. "So I had already thought. To go is both to shield the younger generation and to weigh the mind of the True-God Palace — a gain of two ends by one road." He glances at Wang-Yun and sees the young man's face alight with joy barely veiled; inwardly he smiles. Deputy Lord Qiu-Biao strokes his beard. "With Lord Wu along the way, our hearts are still as iron."
"Come!" cries Master Qiu, lifting his cup once more. "Let us drink to this double joy upon our Flying-Eagle Gang!" Laughter breaks again; cups meet like steel upon steel; red lanterns burn above the feast, their flames stirred by a wandering breeze, shining even more brightly — as though foretelling that both this union and this journey shall open a new leaf upon Mount Song.
At the faint edge of dawn a single cock-crow tears the fog of morning. Wu-Tong and his company have already readied horses and carts, and the train rolls out upon the official road. Chiu-Ting rides abreast of Wang-Yun; the maid steals glances at her betrothed — that sword-browed face lit with quiet resolve — and her heart tilts between sweetness and shame.
Suddenly a plume of dust swells ahead; faint shouts and the bite of steel ride upon the wind. Wang-Yun draws tight his reins at once and shifts his body, placing Chiu-Ting behind his stirrup."Be on guard!" Wu-Tong raises a hand; the procession halts. He narrows his eyes toward the turmoil. Two bands clash in a storm of blades — at their head stand the chiefs of the Western-Wind Gang and the Ancient-Way Gang.
Deputy Qiu-Biao speaks low: "Those two have borne feud for years. Today they meet upon a narrow road."In the field stands He-Fan of the Ancient-Way Gang with hands clasped behind him, his dusky face curled in a sneer. His gaze nails itself upon Yao-Li — fierce of build yet faintly strained between the brows. He-Fan scoffs inwardly: The Western-Wind Gang has fattened by swallowing smaller packs and now would crown themselves lords of Puzhou? If I blunt their edge before all eyes today…With deliberate malice he lifts his voice: "If Lord Yao seeks aid from a greater power, he labors in vain!"
The words stab like a naked spike through Yao-Li's pride. His tiger eyes flare; in his sleeve his iron fists creak. Never since the rise of the Western-Wind has any dared shame him before the world. Yet recalling the purpose of this journey, he forces the fire down: The True-God Palace forbids inner strife — to draw blood now hands them a pretext.But if he shrinks an inch before his own men, his face is ruined for years.
As the deadlock tightens, He-Fan snaps, "Second-Commander Sun-Wu — step forth and greet Lord Yao!"Sun-Wu springs out; the earth booms under his landing, a ring of dust rising three feet. He salutes with seeming courtesy, yet his eyes flame with challenge.Yao-Li's heart gives a small jolt: A hard-body practitioner — He-Fan means to bleed my strength! A glance at the distant figures of Wu-Tong and the others sharpens the trap — if he enters the fray himself and falters, the Flying-Eagle Gang will witness his loss of face.
"Wu-Qiang!" Yao-Li barks. "Go keep the Second-Commander company!"A black streak flies from the Western-Wind ranks — the Vice-Chief Wu-Qiang, thin as a winter reed, yet his palms black as quenched iron, mark of poison-arts driven to extremity.
Sun-Wu, seeing that his opponent is not Yao-Li himself, laughs in fury: "So — Lord Yao deems Sun unworthy?""Not so," Yao-Li strokes his beard with a cold half-smile. "In a match, the stones must be equal."He draws out the words — then turns the blade with his eyes toward He-Fan:"I only wonder — will your noble gang dare stake the three river-ports of Puzhou?"
He-Fan's pupils constrict. The three ports are the lifeblood of the Ancient-Way Gang; Yao-Li has flung his hand upon the gang's very throat, forcing him to show cards or break.