Chapter 5: The Second Assault

“A lot of worth, the lot of you. You cannot even do one simple thing—retrieve a sacred text—and you call yourselves my men. What use are you to me?” the Patriarch of the Poison Sect thundered. It was clear he had never expected his handpicked elite, sent out under his own authority, to return in such disgrace. Since Duzhong became sect master, this was perhaps the day he had most wanted to erupt in fury. He fixed his gaze on the battered Mandalo below him. “Mandalo, do you remember what you told me before? You said your power had already surpassed Suwen. I gave you this vital mission and told myself to worry no further. Is this how you repay me?”

“You know perfectly well what the Lingyuan Silk truly is and what it means to our Poison Sect. Now you have failed. If I have not miscounted, this is your third failure. By our law, anyone in the Poison Sect who fails three times has no place left in this world. Tell me, should I finish it myself, or will I do it with my own hand? Since your past service to the sect was worthy of remembrance, I can at least leave you a body entire.”

Since Duzhong had taken the position of sect master, he had laid down a severe but clear rule: every person had three chances to err; no one was exempt, not even the master himself. By the time it was made, the disciples’ morale had been rekindled and their standards sharpened. So when he saw Mandalo’s ashen face, Duzhong felt a faint reluctance, but rules were rules, and this one had been his own. If he broke it, what shape would the Poison Sect take in the future?

“Master,” Yueyuan said, bowing with urgency, “Mandalo was raised within the Poison Sect since childhood. If we speak of loyalty to her, none of us can match him. I beg you, make an exception. I know you value discipline above all, yet there are exceptions when matters demand it. The Poison Sect is in a season of dwindling talent and needs every capable hand. If this man dies, we lose something irreplaceable.”

Yueyuan and Mandalo had always been close. If the master truly meant to execute him that day, Yueyuan would have had no choice but to submit as a subordinate. But he knew many disciples’ hearts would collapse at this.

Duzhong’s laugh was cold and dismissive. “So. He has already reached such a height in everyone’s eyes?”

“Well then,” he said after a long breath, “I will grant you one final chance. Fail again and you may not complain about my strictness. You have been given this chance. What will you do now? Zhuang Yunzhen has drawn everyone’s attention, and the way you stand there tells me you have already decided upon something. Come, speak.”

The fabric behind Mandalo’s shoulders clung with cold sweat. He had only moments before stood at the gate of death. If Yueyuan had not interceded, the master would have ordered his end. He was a fierce practitioner of venom arts, yet in front of Duzhong his whole power suddenly felt weightless. In truth, even ten exchanges would be too many.

“Do not worry. Around Goldfinch Hollow I already placed a strike team. We agreed that if I failed, they would step in and reclaim the Lingyuan Silk. If they died, no one would suspect us; with such a treasure hanging in the air, everyone wants it,” Mandalo said.

Duzhong nodded. “Your method is old-fashioned, but used well it still bites deeply. Good. Once more, I entrust this to you. Mandalo, remember this: your life hangs in your hands by a thread. Your power is frightening, but your temper is wild and proud. Yet that is how a disciple of this sect ought to be. Enough. This matter is settled. All of you, go.”

Yueyuan could not believe that today’s master would be so easy to reason with. Usually he was one word and one action. Now a single plea had shifted him—rare indeed.

“You think I did this so you would thank me?” Duzhong said, eyes narrowing. “No. In short, you are on the brink of becoming dead already. You will know why very soon.”

Mandalo understood his nature better than any man there. Perhaps Duzhong understood Mandalo’s value and therefore would not discard him entirely—but such intent could never be shown. If others sensed it, his authority as master would crumble.

“Boy,” Duzhong continued, “you have one path now. If you live through today, you will remember that in the Poison Sect there are words one may speak and words one must never speak. Reveal the latter, and your life ends.”

“Hmm. Mandalo, did you forget? A moment ago, had I not stepped in, you might already have become a corpse. And now you dare speak to me thus? Is this proper?”

“My death or life is no matter for your concern. Think instead what comes next. This is your final chance. Fail again, and no one can save you,” he said.

Mandalo laughed dryly. “In the end, youth must bow to heaven. This time I will succeed. Only you will not witness the outcome.”

Much later that night, Duzhong came to Yueyuan’s side. He struck the bed with one roaring palm. It was a perfect shot, yet it passed empty in front of him.

“Hmm? I didn’t expect that. You can evade a strike like that,” Duzhong growled. “I underestimated you. You avoided my most incisive move. Still, you die today.”

Yueyuan laughed. “You have always been harsh and merciless. I knew this day would come. I was pleading for Mandalo and understood it. You wish to kill me—but it will not be so easy. I have not served in this sect long, but you have not seen what I can do.”

“Only a bit of illusion,” Duzhong said. “Against the Red Spider Lily, what use is that?”

“Don’t boast,” Duzhong sneered. “If I said you would die today, you will not live long enough to argue. And now—” He lashed out.

Yueyuan was blasted backward, his body hurled by immense force. Duzhong advanced in maddeningly slow steps. “You do like to read hearts, do you not? Fine. This is another chance. Get out of this room and live. Fail, and die.”

Then he drew forth a blood-red flower into his palm. It glowed faintly. “The Red Spider Lily. Before this blossom withers, you may use any technique you have.”

Its fragrance spread through the chamber—a sweet poison, unmistakable. “Very well then,” Yueyuan said. “Since I have entered your hall, teach me, master.”

He launched a leg strike like a streaking blade of wind. Yueyuan hated him, yet his mastery of kicks was uncanny. The Dragon-Slaying Kicking Art had ten canonical forms, yet never had anyone mastered them all.

“That was Dragon Defying the Nine Heavens,” Duzhong observed coolly. “A strong angle, enough force. Against ordinary experts, it would end the match. But now it is me you strike. Those moves alone are insufficient.”

The attack was blocked within a breath. Around Duzhong the Red Spider Lily unfolded into a dense field of defense. The kick, brutal as it was, could not even graze him.

“Phantom Dragon.”

Yueyuan pivoted instantly and broke into another pattern. Illusions flashed all over the room, and then he gathered them into a singular pressure that felt like a thousand weighted arms of force. “How do you judge this strike, Master? Please give your comment.”

Before he could finish, Yueyuan was again flung to the ground by Duzhong’s raw power.

“It seems you have failed again,” Duzhong said, expression blank. “You had no right to ask me to strike. I already gave you one mercy; now it is gone. A pity. You had your chance and did not hold it. Then die.”

A red blossom flew from his hand as if flicked by a brush. Yueyuan turned to look for his opponent, but Duzhong had already turned away.

Suddenly Yueyuan felt a titanic force swallow him from within. His tongue went numb, words dissolved, and then even thought itself frayed. He died without a cry.

“Bring Yueyuan and bury him properly. Not for any kindness,” Duzhong said. “We honor him for one thing only: men of the Poison Sect may be proud before outsiders, but never before me. Yet if one is utterly certain of one’s own force, one may challenge me. Beat me and you become master; then your arrogance will be justified. If not, keep your pride at bay.”

He spoke as if to the restless disciples, perhaps to the night itself. Who, after all, would know or care? A man of such caliber fell, and fiercer men would keep coming. Since the founding of the Poison Sect, it had never needed the weak; now it did not, and will not now. The disciples accustomed to hidden power read the air and accepted this as natural.

Perhaps that was always the way of the Poison Sect. Yet why did he seem so weighed down today? When Duzhong became master, he had only been ten. How could a child command such arrogant elders into submission? There was no other path, only battle. He fought from then on, and over years he forgot his own heart. He gained terrible strength, but also unbearable solitude. He longed for an opponent strong enough to match him, and could not find one. If that is the price of supremacy, he thought, perhaps it may be paid many times over. Looking upon the desolate circle around him, he felt strangely complete. Upon this throne, he alone sat. Since the founding of the Poison Sect, none had sat there as strong as Duzhong. To his predecessors he spoke silently, half in challenge, half in remembrance: “You would be pleased to see me now. My rise—if ugly as it is—was made possible by what you gave me.”

“You gave all your power to me, so I could command the Red Spider Lily. I see now what it means to be the strongest.”

Alone, he slipped into his own muttering. In such times no one must speak to him. To do so meant death, and no disciple had dared these many years. But now his control slipped.

“Ah! So that is exactly when it erupts?” he growled, face twisting. “Suppress it!”

A violent backlash surged forth. Even in power there are prices: isolation too, and retaliation from within. The many strengths of the ancestors he had absorbed now crowded inside him. The more he used that immense force, the harsher the backlash became. He had once controlled it; now it struck more strongly each year. Yet strangely the stronger the backlash, the more he took pleasure in it. It proved he had not yet reached his true summit. If he had truly reached true transcendence, such a backfire would mean nothing.

Only the Lingyuan Silk could suppress this recoil. It was the ancestral divine relic of the Poison Sect: merely carrying it improved one’s inner strength and could be borne through day-to-day life. But now Suwen had taken it. He had tried many methods to retrieve it and failed each time. He had placed all his remaining hopes in Mandalo. This man, he was certain, would succeed.

Golden Swallow Nest, Solitary Dragon Peak.

“Fengming,” he said quietly, “do you know why the disciples of the Poison Sect spent so many years searching for me? Every one of them did all this for one thing. This is a cloth so fine it seems like breath. When it appears, a strange light radiates from it and bends everything around it.”

“That thing is what I have called the Lingyuan Silk for generations,” he continued. “Its power is severe, its abilities uncommon. As long as you carry it, even the deadliest poisons beneath heaven cannot harm you. Yet over these years I never fully understood it. It may once have held great vitality, but after so many years that spiritual core should have faded away. I tell you now because you must be ready. Mandalo will not relent. He may already be planning something even now, though I have never fully read his mind. Keep this relic carefully. If danger reaches me, the future of the Poison Sect will rest on you and Duzhong.”

In years of constant warfare, Duzhong had forged a terrible demon of the mind. Often he did not know what he was doing at all. Yet if he ever regained his true heart, he would become the best master the Poison Sect ever had. He and the youth had been linked by years of acquaintance; he knew that heart had not changed. He needed nothing but a worthy opponent—an impossible desire never fulfilled.

“Now,” Duzhong said, “no need to fret. Remember what I have spoken. Look carefully: the air around Solitary Dragon Peak is filled with murderous intent. The fighting is far from over, is it not?”

“Since you have all come, why not show yourselves?” he added into the night. “What kind of heroes hide in shadows? If you are all here for the Lingyuan Silk, then come and duel.”

Suwen, the man he once had been known for, despised concealment and issued the challenge with a command in his voice. His shout rolled over the ridge like a tidal wave of force.

A laugh came from the dark, smooth as polished steel. “No matter how deeply we hide our tracks, we are still found. Still, Suwen, do not mourn. The master of the Poison Sect has missed you all these years. We only came for the Lingyuan Silk. Come with us now.”

Suwen sliced through the air, and in an instant all the hidden men were thrown down as if struck by invisible wings.

“Come out,” he called. “Will you think these illusions enough to beat me?”

One of the fugitives groaned, “Great master, everyone said you possessed overwhelming power. We are not here for glory. We are castaways of the Poison Sect. If we complete this task, we can return. If we fail, we die without a grave.”

“Those before you were mere illusions,” another said. “You need not be so serious. The man before you was once the strongest of the Poison Sect. One could almost call him the source of its present fame. Though he came from the Poison Sect, throughout his life he preferred medicine to venom. That alone made him unlike all of us.”

“He has even reached a point where he could master both poison and healing,” another added. “At this point, do you still not want to witness the one whose fame reaches rumor and reaches legend?”

“Truly, this need not be so troublesome now,” someone muttered, as if only a flicker, and then a figure flashed by at their side.

“Pow! Pow! Pow!” Men who had strutted only moments before now lay stunned on the ground. It was Zhuang Yunzhen’s hand. His Sun-Moon Twin Radiance Palm was now controlled with confidence. Since he began learning it, today was the first day he felt true joy.

“Against me how can you contend with my foster father? Yet since you have come, leaving no mark would be unforgivable. I will answer as your opponent. But if you truly want to fight, you must be able to do so now.”

“What do you think of my Proud Cold-Ice Dance?” he pressed. “Your Luan and Yuan channels should both be sealed now. Force your qi if you dare, and you die.”

“It is the Sun-Moon Twin Radiance Palm, is it?” one of them gasped. “It is interesting. You have probably not dared to overuse this path for long, else even my Proud Cold-Ice Dance just now would have ended you. If you did not unleash it well, then now you shall see what we can do. Remember: our task is to recover the Lingyuan Silk. This pair’s deaths are no concern of ours.”

“Those two are already trapped in the illusion now,” a deeper voice said. “If they want out, it won’t be easy. Second Tiger, Third Tiger—you two go find the Lingyuan Silk. This illusion array is mine to maintain. As long as I stand here, they cannot break it in a day.”

The three of them had been known as the Three Tigers of the Poison Sect. Raised together since childhood, they possessed rare silence and coordination. The array they formed together was called the Tiger in the Heart, and few could unravel it.

To leave Big Tiger alone against Zhuang Yunzhen and Suwen was perilous, but it was the only way to finish the task.

“Big Tiger,” said Second Tiger and Third Tiger in unison, “be careful. Once we find the Lingyuan Silk we will return and help you.”

“It has come to this, has it?” Suwen said to him, with bitter amusement. “See, Fengming, I did not misjudge. Fortunate that I earlier gave the Lingyuan Silk to you out of foresight. Since we two are trapped in the illusion, no need to rush out now. Watching those outsiders scramble is oddly entertaining.”

“They are so simple,” he went on. “They want only to witness us in panic. If that is what they want, Fengming, shall we not grant it?”

“At heart, Yunzhen is still a youth,” he added with a sardonic smile. “And all youths are fond of play.”

At this Yunzhen answered with a cheerful obedience that belonged to no villain, only a youth: “Whatever my foster father says, that is what I do.”

“No, no,” Suwen smiled. “There is nothing we need do. Just wait. The rest is in good hands.”

“Now I finally see who you are, Big Tiger,” he said. “Once you were only a little devil at my side. Years have changed you. I’m pleased to meet such a tiger now. The Heart-Tiger Formation, did you finish it all these years?” He laughed. “You know I once told you: if the three brothers wanted, this would be effortless.”

Big Tiger’s answer was as unwavering as steel. “Master, now that you remember what I am, all the same I will not change my mind. If you ask me to abandon the mission, you know I cannot. I have only one nature: this task means more than sky itself.”

“I have long owed Suwen my life. He saved me when I had nothing left,” Big Tiger said, voice rough. “But now, after years, we stand opposed. The blame is not theirs. It is fate.”

“To see you sound and unharmed eases me, though this scene is ugly,” Suwen said. “Do not burden yourself with guilt. I had long since lost faith in the Poison Sect; to leave was only a matter of time. Enough words. You three came here for the Lingyuan Silk. Yet what I must tell you is this: even if you tear this place apart, it will not help.”

“It is not here you seek it. You are wasting time,” he said. “Still, it is good you are with me, speaking. In these years of retreat no one had come. Suddenly, this has become a roaring crowd. I did not expect so many who remembered me.”

“Big Tiger,” he continued, “will you like the gift I prepared?”

“I know you have hidden the Lingyuan Silk somewhere else,” Suwen said. “Do you think my men cannot find it? You also know our three tigers are skilled at finding things. Otherwise I would never have sent the three of them.”

Then he turned to Zhuang Yunzhen. “You are fortunate, boy. To become my elder’s foster son—who would have predicted it? The Lingyuan Silk is in your hands now. Do you think I do not know that? Such a strong object is a pity to remain with a mere youth. Hand it over—it is your best path. Your power is good, but you still cannot yet hold such a mighty relic. Trust me. You alone cannot bear its full force. If you doubt this, test it.”

Big Tiger, who had been listening in silence, then said through clenched jaw: “Master, because of the grave inner wound I just received, what I was to do should have been my work. But now that chance is gone. Still, I know this: we brothers will meet again.”

Mandalo, though bloodied, still perceived everything sharply. “Big Tiger,” he said with cold calm, “the words you meant to say before are now spoken. Now what do you do next? This is your last chance. If you miss it again, do you know what happens? Think carefully and decide.”

“Yet remember this: Suwen was your lifesaver,” Mandalo said more quietly. “You are unlike the rest of my disciples; sometimes your heart is too soft. You know that softness can be a burden. If you cannot decide, I will decide for you.”

A heavy pressure moved through the air. Big Tiger was seized by force at distance.

“Big Tiger,” the unseen voice commanded, “you now possess fierce strength. What do you do now? Fight them!”

“You leave now,” Mandalo told him. “You are the one I most cannot hurt. You have always been a great kindness to me. I owe you still and cannot abandon that debt. Mandalo and I can deal with who we must. But there is one condition—you hear me clearly: I will never harm Suwen.”

“Would refusing harm to Suwen mean defying my order?” Big Tiger said, anger flicking like sparks. “Do you know, as orphans all three of you were in childhood, I owe you no small debt myself, and so do I owe your two brothers. Why does Suwen always come first?”

“You are indeed a worthy man,” Mandalo answered. “That is exactly why this is the last time I do not press you. Finish this final task and the rest is yours, easy enough, yes?”

“Mandalo is right,” Big Tiger snapped at last. “We three were once nothing at all in this world. Even so we had our own choices. Let me say it clearly: this task, we are done with it. Second Tiger, Third Tiger—we have found a benefactor; now we owe him.”

“You are the most troublesome of the three,” Mandalo remarked as though blessing him. “I know this. You no longer wish to do the task because your heart is tied by many attachments. Your two brothers do not think so. They do everything for themselves. Big Tiger, you have become this way—what should the two of you do now?”

“Wake up,” Big Tiger replied, voice rough. “Suwen has indeed shown us kindness, but the matter is old. We three surviving to this day was never easy. Think carefully. We still have many tasks left. Do you really want us to die here?”

“Second Tiger, Third Tiger,” Mandalo pressed, “have you become followers of me now? When did this happen? Why am I still ignorant as your elder brother?”

Mandalo’s face lifted with a kind of savage joy. “You always cared only for your own growth. But how do your two brothers truly think? As elder brother, you never paid attention. I can. It is the same, perhaps. I can give them powers you could never.”

“Why do those two follow me?” Mandalo continued. “Because, since ancient times, whoever is strongest gathers allies. Yes, your power is excellent, but you have never wished to be my friend. Then here is your single choice: be my enemy. I care about my own name and repute, so now only your brothers may oppose you.”

The three had been raised together; this was where Mandalo turned the blade. “Among the three, who is strongest? I have pondered this for years and can’t decide. My own mind is not enough. Since we have such a chance, the three of you should fight.”

He looked at Suwen trapped in the array and said, voice ringing like steel:

“Elder brother, this is because of you that all of this has come. If you had given me the Lingyuan Silk earlier, this brat you still cherish would not have fought. It would have been better for everyone. You have always acted for yourself alone. Never have I doubted that beneath your self-interest there is still care. You never speak it. Fine. If you cannot, then watch with your own eyes. The juniors you favored will die because of your absurd pride, and then your heart will be fire and helplessness—seeing the strength you believed secure but cannot use to save a soul. Why hold such a vast power otherwise? You love the stage and drama. Come then. We two brothers have been apart too long. Let us see how the Big Tiger three-fight ends.”

Mandalo’s laughter split the sky.