Adventure of Yi Zaifu 1

His companions sheath their blades and back toward the door. The leader keeps still until Yi Zaifu lowers the jian, then gathers them onto the dark road.

Their footsteps fade beneath the night wind. The innkeeper, his wife, and the frightened travelers remain inside, while Yi Zaifu stays beside the quiet doorway.

He unlocks a small wooden box beneath the counter and produces a folded scrap sealed in dark red wax. Its mark shows nine sharp peaks surrounding a single central sun.

Yi Zaifu studies the dark red wax beneath the lamplight. Nine peaks encircle the central sun, their sharp points arranged with deliberate martial symmetry.

His perception catches a finer detail: the highest peak is split by a narrow vertical line, the identifying stroke of the Nine Peaks Sect.

Yi Zaifu turns the scrap toward the flame. The heat loosens the wax, and a brittle flake drops onto his already aching wrist, reopening the sharp strain there.

The innkeeper sets aside the sealed scrap instead of answering further. His caution turns the promised investigation into a dangerous question with no willing witness.

His wife brings steaming rice, broth, and sliced vegetables. Yi Zaifu eats beneath the lamplight while the room gradually resumes its low, uneasy murmur.

She opens a clay jar and spreads cool herbal salve across the reddened wrist, binding it with clean linen. The treatment eases the sharpest pain, but stiffness remains.

The meal leaves warmth in Yi Zaifu’s stomach as the inn settles into uneasy quiet. His bandaged wrist remains stiff, but the worst of its pain has faded.

The innkeeper glances toward the shuttered windows, then draws the wooden box closer. The dark red seal rests inside, untouched since Yi Zaifu examined it.

His wife rinses the salve from her fingers and tightens the linen once more, checking that it supports the joint without restricting movement.

Yi Zaifu rises from the table, testing the bandaged wrist only enough to confirm it remains supported. He settles his jian at his side and steps toward the door.

The innkeeper lifts the bar, and the door opens onto cool night air. Lamplight spills across the threshold as Yi Zaifu walks east beneath the fading clouds.

Behind him, the inn door closes and the voices recede. Ahead, the eastern road gleams pale between dark fields, leading toward the old milestone and the distant charcoal village.

Yi Zaifu leaves Roadside inn behind and arrives at the charcoal village.

The charcoal village crouches beneath the eastern hills, its roofs dark with soot and its kilns glowing like banked red eyes. Workers pause as Yi Zaifu enters.

A muddy track leads between stacked timber and smoking pits. Near the largest kiln, a charcoal burner watches Yi Zaifu's bandaged wrist and resting jian.

He points eastward, then retrieves a blackened tally board from beneath a shed awning. One delivery is marked with a red peak, matching the seal's highest stroke.

The board gives Yi Zaifu both the estate's name and its route: follow the quarry stream at dawn. Beneath the lodge mark, a fresh footprint points toward a hidden rear trail.

Yi Zaifu lifts his gaze from the quarry track to the night sky. Clouds swallow the stars, and the hills beyond the village are already dark.

The charcoal burner points beyond the glowing kilns, where the muddy path bends beneath leaning pines. Smoke and darkness conceal the hut from the village.

Yi Zaifu follows the indicated path and finds the abandoned hut farther on. Its shutters hang crooked, but the dry interior offers a roof, a stone hearth, and a place to rest until dawn.

Yi Zaifu raises the borrowed lantern and inspects the hut methodically. Dust lies thick across the floor, but the hearth stones show recent disturbance.

He checks beneath the sleeping platform, behind the crooked shutters, and along the roof beams. No person hides within, and no weapon waits in the shadows.

Near the hearth, his keen sight finds a thin scrape in the packed earth. A flat stone lifts beneath his fingers, revealing a folded strip of oilcloth.

Inside rests a charcoal rubbing of the Cloud-Splitting Lodge mark and three lines naming a rear gate, a dry streambed, and the next moonless night.

The information confirms the hut has served as a temporary meeting place. Yi Zaifu replaces the rubbing, covers the stone, and settles near the cold hearth.

He places the lantern beside the wall, keeps his jian within easy reach, and lets the hut's quiet settle around him while dawn remains ahead.

Dawn pales the hut’s crooked shutters. Yi Zaifu rises, checks the support around his wrist, and leaves the borrowed lantern beside the door as promised.

He follows the charcoal burner’s directions beyond the last timber stack, finding the quarry stream where clear water threads between stones and pine roots.

The rising sun catches the stream in broken gold. Yi Zaifu keeps to its bank, his jian settled at his side while the hills brighten around him.

The dry streambed named in the rubbing appears ahead, branching away from the water beneath a screen of reeds. Fresh heel marks darken its pale gravel.

Yi Zaifu reaches the concealed rear trail as morning fully breaks over the quarry. Beyond it, nine white stones rise among the trees, marking Cloud-Splitting Lodge.

Yi Zaifu leaves the nine white stones undisturbed and circles the lodge’s rear perimeter, moving through pine shade and keeping clear of the concealed entrance.

The ground beneath the trees holds several overlapping tracks. Most belong to shod men, but one narrow set turns away from the lodge toward a ravine.

Behind a fallen cedar, he finds a shallow cache covered with bark. Inside are empty provision wrappers, a snapped red cord, and a scrap of account paper.

The paper lists deliveries from the charcoal village and three payments marked only with a black crescent. One line names the next moonless night.

Near the ravine, Yi Zaifu spots a fresh handprint in pale dust beside a narrow ledge. Someone recently used the route while avoiding the lodge entirely.

From higher ground, he sees the lodge’s rear wall, a covered storehouse, and a servant emerging to inspect the distant trail. The clue trail now points beyond the lodge, toward whoever pays for these deliveries.

Yi Zaifu remains beneath the pine shade and studies the servant without moving. The man is lean, middle-aged, and wears a brown vest over a faded blue tunic.

The servant pauses beside the rear wall, scanning the trees. A short iron key hangs from his belt, while ash dusts his sleeves and one boot.

Yi Zaifu lowers his profile as the man turns toward the lodge. Pine trunks break the sightline, and the stream’s murmur covers the faint shift of his footing.

He follows the narrow trail toward the ravine, placing each step on stone or packed earth. The servant’s inspection ends without discovering him, and the lodge recedes behind the trees.

The trail descends beside the ledge, passing fresh scuffs where someone dragged a burden downhill. Below, a concealed footbridge crosses the ravine toward thicker forest.

From the far bank comes a muted whistle, answered once from the direction of Cloud-Splitting Lodge. The black-crescent payments may have more than one messenger.

Yi Zaifu stops on the ravine trail, one foot settling silently onto packed earth. He lowers his breathing and lets the pine branches, stream, and distant lodge fill the silence.

He waits without shifting his stance. No branch bends, stone rolls, or breath disturbs the trail he has crossed; the forest behind him remains empty.

Across the concealed footbridge, however, a faint scrape sounds from thicker forest. It comes from ahead and to the left, not from the path behind him.

A second whistle answers the earlier signal, shorter and lower. The reply travels toward the bridge, confirming that the messengers are coordinating beyond the ravine.

The concealed crossing hangs still between the banks. Beyond it, undergrowth parts briefly around a dark-clad figure carrying a narrow bundle toward the forest.

Yi Zaifu crosses the concealed footbridge with measured steps, placing each foot where the ropes meet the old planks. The hidden crossing groans beneath his final step.

Across the ravine, the dark-clad figure stops. The narrow bundle shifts against one shoulder as the carrier turns toward the sound.

Yi Zaifu lowers himself behind a cedar root and tries to follow as the carrier moves deeper into the forest. His delay leaves the distance widening between them.

The carrier slips the bundle from one shoulder and plants it beside a mossy stone, then retreats along a side trail screened by thorny brush.

By the time Yi Zaifu reaches the stone, the carrier has vanished from sight. The abandoned bundle remains in the open, while the bridge behind him now creaks with every movement.

Yi Zaifu crosses the concealed footbridge with measured care, but the old planks groan beneath his final step. Across the ravine, the bundle carrier turns at once.

Yi Zaifu lowers behind a cedar root and follows along the bank, keeping to stone and shadow. The carrier’s pace widens the distance through the thickening trees.

The carrier drops the narrow bundle beside a mossy stone and retreats along a thorn-screened side trail. Yi Zaifu advances, but the brush swallows the figure.

By the time Yi Zaifu reaches the stone, no movement remains ahead. Each step behind him makes the bridge complain, making a quiet return impossible.

The abandoned bundle is tied with a snapped red cord, and a black crescent is inked beneath its fold. Beside it, the carrier’s fresh tracks enter the side trail, offering a clear route to follow or investigate.

Yi Zaifu crouches beside the mossy stone and studies the bundle without touching it. The snapped red cord lies loose, its fibers damp with forest mist.

He examines the folds, seams, and surrounding leaves for disturbed soil, hidden line, or concealed mechanism. Nothing shifts beneath the cloth, and no scent of oil or powder reaches him.

Using a fallen twig, he lifts the lower fold and checks beneath the bundle. The moss, earth, and shadowed underside reveal no trap or waiting blade.

Satisfied, Yi Zaifu grips the bundle at its balanced center and raises it carefully. It is compact and heavier than cloth alone, with something rigid enclosed within.

The black crescent remains visible beneath the broken cord. Fresh tracks continue along the thorn-screened side trail, while the carrier’s escape route disappears deeper into the forest.

Confront the person behind the black-crescent payments