Forgotten Tale of Jianghu

Snow fell gently from the sky. Yet, despite the wintry afternoon, Kunming City seemed to glow with a faint warmth. As Xin Long strolled through the streets, he mused that perhaps the Radiant Sun Prince himself had lit the heavens, offering a touch of solace to the townsfolk.

The bustling city was alive with movement. Just like him, there were ordinary citizens clad in simple clothes, mingling with wandering martial artists. It was this very sight that drew a subtle remark from Xin Long's thoughts — a world where the mundane and the extraordinary brushed shoulders.

After a brief rest at the Golden Princess Inn, he had cleaned himself up and donned one of the two outfits brought to him by the inn's servant boy. Now, dressed inconspicuously, he blended into the crowd as he navigated the lively streets.

His purpose, however, was not mere idleness. Having heard about Young Master Xu's public declaration earlier that morning, he had ventured to the southern edge of the city. It was there, in the shadow of the town's border, that Xu Zhu Han had spread word — a call to arms and a challenge, rippling through Kunming like a stone cast into still waters.

As Xin Long wandered, the sounds of life poured into his ears. The clamor of market stalls, the sizzle of food from street vendors, and the hushed yet sharp arguments exchanged between martial artists and locals alike — it all blended into the ever-present hum of a city on edge.

Silent, observant, Xin Long moved like a shadow within the crowd.

Rumors spread like wildfire throughout Kunming City — the renowned Young Master Xu, hailed as the Dragon-Tiger of Kunming, would host a three-day martial arts tournament at his grand estate. The event would be overseen by the Shaolin and Wudang sect leaders, with the esteemed Bai Family's patriarch standing by their side.

In addition, an official decree had been announced: all martial artists arriving in Kunming were strictly forbidden from causing any disturbances outside of the tournament. No fights were to break out in the city—a rule clearly meant to maintain order.

For Xin Long, this decree wasn't just a matter of control—it was an opportunity. This very tournament was part of his plan, a piece of the larger scheme he had carefully crafted. With enough moving parts, there was always a way to bend the chaos to his will. Somewhere within the threads of his plot, he believed Young Master Xu's death would come—if not directly, then by manipulation.

It was Xin Long himself who had whispered this idea into Young Master Xu's ear, leveraging the feud between Bai Yue and Tai Shan Hu. Their rivalry was a spark, and Xin Long had merely fanned the flames.

As he strolled through the city streets, his mind buzzed with the next steps of his scheme. His first objective was simple—observe the unfolding chaos. The second? Find Bai Jing Jing.

His thoughts, however, were abruptly cut short.

Reaching a four-way intersection, Xin Long's dark eyes narrowed as he spotted a procession entering through Kunming's eastern gate. Leading the group were none other than the Shaolin sect's senior monks and the Wudang sect's martial artists.

Silently, Xin Long halted his steps and watched them intently.

At the very front of the procession, a figure clad in a golden-yellow robe stood out — his hand gently holding a string of prayer beads, his face a picture of serene dignity. Without a doubt, this could only be the Abbot of the Shaolin Sect.

His sharp, hawk-like eyes were a striking contrast to the calm, almost tender smile on his lips. His every movement exuded a sense of tranquility, a presence so composed that it seemed to ease the hearts of those around him. The deep hollows of his temples spoke of a powerful inner force, a silent testament to his martial prowess.

Surrounding him were several Shaolin monks, their gazes fixed upon their leader with unwavering reverence, murmuring softly among themselves.

Further to the side, Xin Long's gaze shifted, catching sight of Young Master Xu's martial artists, clearly there to welcome the Abbot and his entourage. Behind them, a line of Shaolin disciples, all clad in identical gray robes, moved in unison — a solemn yet commanding sight.

As Xin Long observed, the group reached the intersection. With a graceful turn, they made their way toward Young Master Xu's grand estate. He watched in silence as they disappeared down the road.

It was clear — if the Abbot of Shaolin had arrived, the leader of the Wudang Sect would not be far behind.

A faint smile tugged at Xin Long's lips.

His plan was about to unfold.

His fist unconsciously clenched at the thought.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward.

Crossing the intersection and passing a few more shops, a familiar sight came into view — the Silent Serenity Apothecary. It seemed to call out to him, a quiet whisper inviting him closer.

But it wasn't just the apothecary.

Beside it stood the courtyard of Bai Jing Jing's residence — and in his mind, it too seemed to beckon him, the pull of both places intertwining in his thoughts.

Xin Long knew the location of Bai Jing Jing's courtyard thanks to a brief conversation with a young servant at the inn. Now, standing near the entrance, he came to a stop, his gaze carefully sweeping over the courtyard, silently observing.

Just then, a soft laugh drifted from behind him.

"Heh heh... Why is the great mercenary brother lingering outside my courtyard?"

The familiar, teasing voice belonged to none other than Bai Jing Jing.

Xin Long's lips curved into a faint smile, though his expression quickly returned to its usual cold, composed stillness as he slowly turned around.

Even without speaking, the playful glint in his eyes was unmistakable.

She stood there in a flowing green dress, her emerald eyes fixed on him — sharp yet lighthearted. Seeing that she was alone, Xin Long's satisfaction only grew.

"I came because I wanted to see you again…" he said smoothly. "I'd like to attend the wedding celebration, but… without any acquaintances, it seems difficult… Since I don't know anyone else, I thought I'd ask if you'd join me for a drink — unless, of course, you'd refuse…"

His words were deliberately casual, the choice of "I" and "you" strikingly direct — a subtle but calculated shift.

From the very first time he met Bai Jing Jing, Xin Long had sensed that polite formalities wouldn't work on her. She was a woman who saw through niceties. That was why he discarded the usual formalities, opting for a bold, straightforward tone.

"So, you'll use me to build a connection and attend the wedding. Then, you'll cozy up to all the famous martial artists and sect leaders who come to offer their congratulations… Mm… not a bad plan... You've got ambition, I'll give you that..."

Xin Long almost let out a laugh at her pointed remark.

Bai Jing Jing stood there, arms crossed, speaking like a wise old mentor. He watched her silently, his gaze calm yet unwavering. Instead of responding, he simply gave a slight nod — a quiet acknowledgment.

There was no need for unnecessary words. Let her believe what she wanted. As long as she stayed amused and intrigued, his plan could unfold smoothly.

"Heh heh… Since that's the case, how could I refuse the great mercenary brother?"

Her laughter was light but meaningful, and Xin Long caught the subtle shift in her tone. The simple nod had worked — she'd taken it as a silent admission, adding to her amusement.

Without another word, he turned and began walking down the road. It led past the intersection, veering left — a path toward the western gate of Kunming City.

The Shaohua restaurant stood along the way.

Xin Long moved ahead, intentionally passing her, knowing Bai Jing Jing's sharp, perceptive nature wouldn't allow her to ignore him. A woman like her, who favored boldness and wit, wouldn't respond well to flattery or begging for attention.

He didn't need to ask her to follow. She would.

The space between them would shrink — not because he looked back, but because Bai Jing Jing, with her clever eyes and playful spirit, would choose to close the distance herself.

After all, Xin Long understood — women like Bai Jing Jing admired those who led, not those who followed.

In truth… according to human nature, it's fair to say Xin Long's belief was largely correct — that sharp-minded women tend to admire men who lead and forge their own paths.

However, it would be a mistake to assume this was an absolute rule.

Some clever women are drawn not to leaders, but to those they can control — men who rely on them, who bend to their will without resistance.

Yet, Xin Long knew Bai Jing Jing wasn't one of them.

From the moment he saw her lips twitch at Xu Zhu Han's words, he had already gauged her temperament.

This ability to read others — to calculate their thoughts and desires — wasn't something Xin Long had learned. It was something he was born with.

End - 40