The cottage's owner, Qiu Lin, stepped out to see the Taoist off. He froze when he spotted Zhang and Yuzhen emerging from behind the tree, then hurried over to greet them.

  “Laosi! What are you doing here?” Qiu Lin asked, his voice low. “Come inside—do you need a place to rest? I can get you some hot soybean milk.”

  “Is anyone else inside?” Zhang asked. “We need to rest for a bit—we're in a hurry.”

  “Just a young boy from out of town—harmless,” Qiu Lin said. “Come in; we'll talk inside.”

  Zhang set Yuncong down, introducing him to Qiu Lin. They hung their wet clothes by the fire to dry. Qiu Lin stared at their tattered, muddy appearance, his brows furrowed.

  “Who is this?” he asked. “Why are you three in such a state?”

  Since Qiu Lin was an old friend, Zhang told him everything—how Yuncong had escaped the temple, the monks' cruelty, and their decision to flee. Qiu Lin turned to Yuncong, his expression serious.

  “Young Master Zhou, I don't mean to dampen your spirits, but I know those monks' power and connections,” he said. “Their crimes have angered heaven and earth, but their luck hasn't run out yet. They're on good terms with every official in the city, and they've bought a good reputation here. The temple is like a small fortress—after killing those scholars, they've surely covered their tracks.”

  “Even if you report them to the authorities in Chengdu, the officials will only pretend to investigate. They'll send word to the monks, who'll prepare for a search and send men to silence you. The monks have money, martial arts, swordsmanship, and dozens of followers. Even the government can't defeat them—especially when they're in cahoots. Don't throw your life away. Flee quietly to the capital, finish your studies, and earn your official title. When their sins catch up to them, they'll be destroyed.”

  Yuncong opened his mouth to argue, but a sudden breeze swirled through the room. A figure appeared out of thin air, laughing loudly.

  “Well, well—I never thought I'd see you again!”

  Zhang and Yuzhen jumped, reaching for their weapons. Qiu Lin quickly held them back. “Don't panic—he's one of us!”

  Yuncong stared at the figure, then dropped to his knees in reverence. It was the same Taoist they'd seen leaving the cottage—the one he'd met at Wangjiang Tower, though he'd been on Zhang's back and hadn't recognized him earlier.

  Qiu Lin bowed to the Taoist. “Uncle, allow me to introduce you. This is my uncle, the Drunken Taoist—a senior Sword Immortal of Mount Emei.”

  Zhang and Yuzhen's eyes widened. They'd heard of the Drunken Taoist—an immortal with incredible power. They quickly bowed, showing their respect.

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  “How do you know each other?” Qiu Lin asked Yuncong.

  The Drunken Taoist chuckled, patting his red gourd. “We met at Wangjiang Tower a few days ago. I saw these three hurrying along, looking anxious, so I followed them here. Saved me a trip to the temple.”

  Yuncong kowtowed again. “Immortal Master, you warned me of danger at Wangjiang Tower, but I was foolish and didn't understand. I barely escaped with my life. Now that I know you're a senior Sword Immortal, I beg you—let me follow you to the mountains to cultivate. I've had enough of mortal fame and fortune.”

  The Drunken Taoist laughed, pulling him up. “Becoming my disciple isn't that easy. You have good talent, so I'll agree—on three conditions.”

  “First: Filial piety is the most important virtue. You carry the weight of nine generations of your family's legacy. If you become a monk, who will care for your aging parents? Who will keep your family's memory alive? Go home, marry, and have children first. Only then can you join me in the mountains.”

  The Taoist's eyes pierced Yuncong, waiting for a reaction.

  “Second: We answer to no tyrant. Our swords serve only justice, not any emperor, especially not foreign usurpers. Even though the dynasty has fallen, my disciples must never serve the foreign rulers.”

  “Third: As Sword Immortals, we cannot stand by while people suffer under tyranny and evil. You must vow to uphold justice and protect the innocent.”

  “I'll teach you our sect's rules once you're my disciple. Do you agree?”

  Yuncong was overjoyed—this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He knelt again, promising to keep all three conditions, and performed the disciple's salute.

  Yuzhen watched, her eyes bright. When Yuncong finished, she knelt too. “Immortal Master, please take me as your disciple too!”

  The Drunken Taoist shook his head gently. “Rise, young lady. I never take female disciples. You will have a master even stronger than me someday. Both of you will bring honor to our sect—patience.”

  Yuzhen begged again, but the Drunken Taoist stood firm. She rose, her cheeks flushed with shyness and disappointment.

  The Drunken Taoist turned back to Yuncong. “I almost forgot—at Wangjiang Tower, I saw death in the eyes of your seventeen companions. Only you had a chance to survive. Heaven is merciful, so I planned to follow you, but an elder from our sect sent me on an urgent errand. I was delayed for three days.”

  “Last night, in the storm, I saw a boy hanging himself in the woods. I cut him down and brought him here—he woke up just before dawn. It turns out he's your servant, Xiao San'er. He couldn't find you, the innkeeper kicked him out after a monk visited, and he despaired. I knew you were in danger, so I was on my way to the temple when I saw you escape.”

  “I'm sorry I was late—I could have saved the other sixteen. But the monks' luck isn't up yet; revenge will have to wait. Xiao San'er is resting in the back room. With me here, the monks won't dare come. Rest today—tomorrow, I'll send you on your way. I'll teach you how to feel the qi surging like a warm river within his meridians on the road, and I'll visit you to guide you further once you've mastered it.”

  A soft rustle came from the back room. Xiao San'er peeked out, his eyes widening when he saw Yuncong. He rushed forward, throwing his arms around his master, and burst into tears.

  The Drunken Taoist pulled out a small jar of medicine, applying it to Yuncong's wounds. “Dawn is breaking—travelers will be on the road soon, and the monks have spies everywhere. Rest in the back room; Qiu Lin and I will handle anyone who comes.”

  Yuncong and Xiao San'er went inside. Yuzhen followed, her head down, lost in thought—disappointed at being rejected by the Drunken Taoist, troubled by a secret, her heart silently longing for the fate she'd dared not hope for.