Chapter 36: Scarred Eye
“Pfft.”
Mu Bai couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing.
He patted the little monk’s bald head and joked, “Of course we can; we’re incredibly good at it. In fact, it was thanks to bird language that we found your senior brother.”
“Wow.” The little monk clapped his small hands and asked, “How does it go? Jiu jiu jiu jiu jiu? Ji ji zha zha?”
Mu Bai glanced at Su Mo, who lowered his eyelids halfway as he pondered for a moment before speaking slowly, “It depends on what kind of bird it is. Different birds have vastly different calls; some are incomprehensible, requiring one to communicate through gestures instead. It’s quite complicated.”
“Oh—”
Kong Yan and Kong Yuan, standing nearby, also suddenly realized and said, “I see now; we are grateful for your instruction.”
Mu Bai, who had truly witnessed the art of bird taming, listened to his nonsense and silently suppressed a laugh, turning her face away.
The three monks proceeded to ask numerous questions one after another, all of which Su Mo answered with complete fabrication.
He claimed, for instance, that to foster a conducive learning environment, disciples of the Xuanhe Sect greeted each other in bird language; or that disciples of Lingyun Palace treated their swords as wives, while those of the Xuanhe Sect kept birds as wives—all utterly absurd.
Yet one dared to speak, and three dared to believe, utterly bewildered by the deception.
After everything was done, Kong Yan sincerely remarked, “Indeed, hearing about something a hundred times is not as good as seeing it once.”
Mu Bai thought to himself that if the White Crane Elder were here, he would probably be so furious that his beard would stick straight up into the sky.
The reputation of the Xuanhe Sect had been completely ruined by Su Mo. The monks then moved on to discuss other sects. Since there wasn’t much to say about the Konggu Temple or the Pianyu Observatory, they turned their conversation to the three major sects of the neighboring kingdom, Jialan.
As everyone knows, among the three major sects of Jialan, the Chaosheng Pavilion is the most fond of seeking attention. Apart from participating in the martial arts tournament and the annual duel with Lingyun Palace, they frequently send disciples to various song-and-dance galas. Whenever they secure a spot among the top three, they bribe the Yushu Villa to publish extravagant reports in the newspapers, making a great fuss about their achievements.
Not only did they neglect their proper duties, but they also published the exclusive manuals of the Chaosheng Pavilion: “Guqin: From Beginner to Master,” “A Collection of Exclusive Guqin Scores by Nanfeng Yi,” “Elder Meng: Learning the Guqin—Fifty Is Not Too Late,” and more.
The little monk said, “I once saw a book titled ‘A Few Tales of the Master of Chaosheng Pavilion and the Master of Qinglian Valley’ in my master’s study…”
Kong Yan tapped him on the head. “So young, yet already reading such books.”
Mu Bai raised an eyebrow and asked, “What is it about?”
“Hmm.” The little monk, clutching his head, recalled, “It’s roughly about the tangled love and hatred between the Master of Chaosheng Pavilion, Qin Lanyi, the Master of Qinglian Valley, and her twin sister. In the end, the two of them got married and had a daughter, while the sister disappeared.”
“Twin sister… what’s her name?”
“I don’t know.” The little monk shook his head. “The book doesn’t mention it. Many characters are blacked out with ink; I had to guess quite a few parts myself.”
“Blacked out?”
“Yes. And in some places, while reading, suddenly an entire night would pass—it truly baffles the mind.”
Kong Yan sensed something amiss and quickly steered the conversation back: “Speaking of which, at the martial arts assembly a few years ago, the Xuanhe Sect was present, but the Green Lotus Valley did not show up. At that time, the sect masters of Chaosheng Pavilion and Lingyun Palace looked extremely displeased.”
Mu Bai said softly, “Back then, the old master of the Green Lotus Valley had already passed away. The valley was being managed by just one senior sister; how could she possibly spare the time to attend the martial arts assembly?”
“Is that so?” Kong Yan nodded. “It seems this young hero knows quite a lot as well.”
The little monk added, “I read in that book that the medical immortals of the Green Lotus Valley drink only dew…”
Mu Bai nodded. “Right, and no need to visit the latrine either.”
The little monk exclaimed, “Wow.”
As they spoke, half an hour passed. Feeling a bit thirsty, Mu Bai took Su Mo’s waterskin for a drink, then leaned against him, closing his eyes to rest.
Fearing their voices might disturb Mu Bai’s rest, the three monks gradually fell silent inside the carriage.
Upon arriving at the Baihe Relay Station, the sky was pitch black. The group stepped inside and took seats at the two nearest tables. Several glances came from the corner.
Among them was a burly middle-aged man, bald and appearing to be in his forties. A knife scar ran horizontally across his left eye, leaving only his right eye visible as he stared over, his gaze sinister and hawk-like.
Mu Bai noticed but paid no heed, simply waving to summon the waiter.
He reckoned that apart from some crumbs of steamed buns and a bowl of congee at Old Man Baihe’s place, Su Mo had eaten nothing else, and would likely not be accustomed to such simple fare. Thus, he ordered three of the most expensive dishes along with two bowls of white rice.
The young monk at the neighboring table fetched from the innkeeper the Jianghu Express reports from the past three days and sat on a bench to read. After barely glancing at them, he tugged at Kong Yan’s sleeve: “Senior Brother, look! The chivalrous hero Ta Xue has arrived in Wuti Kingdom and has already taken down two dens of rebellious officials.”
Previously, Ta Xue had only operated within the borders of Jialan Kingdom; thus, among the people of Wuti, this knight-errant remained but a distant legend from a foreign land, lacking any sense of reality.
The moment news of his appearance in Wuti was published, it sparked considerable sensation.
Kong Yan took the express report, reading while sipping his tea, when suddenly something struck him, causing his gaze to freeze.
In Wuti Kingdom, people may not have a deep impression of Ta Xue, but they all know his distinguishing features—white robes, falling petals, and the Tianyu Liufang Sword.
Kong Yan’s eyes flickered, shifting toward the adjacent table.
According to the description, the Tianyu Liufang Sword measures two chi seven cun in length and one chi nine cun in width, with seven lustrous white jade stones embedded along its blade… This matches almost exactly the sword that yesterday slipped from the young hero’s hand, fell to the ground, and was picked up by him before being returned.
Could it be a counterfeit?
Kong Yan stroked his chin.
It’s not impossible. Back then, replica swords of Luo Wangchuan’s “Whirling Snow in the Breeze” once sold like hotcakes. Now that “Treading Snow” is all the rage, it’s highly likely that weapon shops will release similar replicas.
He fixed his gaze on the sword strapped to Mu Bai’s back and nodded silently.
This sword is indeed quite handsome. Later, he’d ask the young hero where it was bought; if he had enough silver on hand, he’d want to get one too for his collection.
The waiter brought out the dishes one by one. The monks’ table had only two plates of stir-fried greens and snow-white steamed buns, while Mu Bai’s spread was far more lavish: braised lion’s head meatballs, sweet-and-sour osmanthus fish, and even a whole roasted suckling pig.
Mu Bai picked up a piece of fish, dipped it in sauce, and placed it into Su Mo’s bowl. The glistening white rice became coated in the vibrant, appetizing sauce.
The three monks watched from their table, suddenly finding their steamed buns utterly unappetizing.
Catching their glance from the corner of his eye, Mu Bai curved his eyes into a smile and asked, “Would you like to try some?”
As he spoke, he picked up a large piece of fish and placed it into a clean bowl.
Kong Yuan and the little monk swallowed simultaneously.
Kong Yan said, “Young hero, your body is still weak; you should nourish yourself properly. We will refrain from eating meat.”
The little monk, looking grievously aggrieved, pleaded, “Senior Brother… I just want to taste a bite.”
Kong Yuan scrunched his face, piling up the rolls of flesh: “Senior Brother, I’d like to have a taste too.”
Kong Yan retorted, “Have you already forgotten what the three of us said last time?”
At his words, Mu Bai suddenly remembered. Back then, the three of them had pointed to the heavens and sworn over that pot of chicken soup, vowing that after this meal, they would never again eat meat.
Mu Bai gazed at the fish in her bowl, from which she had carefully picked out all the bones, originally intending to offer it to the three monks for a taste. Deciding she could not be the one to lead them into breaking their vow, she instead ladled some broth over the fish with her spoon and pushed the bowl toward Su Mo.
The little monk and Kong Yuan stared with mouths agape, watching Su Mo eat the fish, their mouths watering uncontrollably.
Kong Yan tapped his chopsticks against the rims of their bowls: “Stop staring.”
Just then, someone in the corner snorted coldly: “So much for the three great sects of Wuti; Konggu Temple is nothing special either. Getting this worked up over a single sweet-and-sour fish is truly laughable.”
Mu Bai turned toward the source of the voice; sure enough, it was that bald middle-aged man.
That person had set his sights on them the moment he walked in.
Judging by the bewildered expressions on Kongyan and the others, they had clearly never seen this man before.
Traveling the jianghu, Mu Bai had encountered two or three individuals who provoked others without cause, but he truly couldn’t comprehend it: this man, who appeared to be at least forty years old—a full generation older than Kongyan—was picking on three young monks from Konggu Temple. Didn’t he feel that such behavior was beneath his dignity?
Kongyan raised his eyes to meet the man’s gaze for a moment and asked, “Senior, I don’t believe we have offended you in any way?”
The bald man sneered, “I just can’t stand you self-righteous monks.”
Kong Yan couldn’t understand, “Senior, you’re also bald. Why must one bald man trouble another?”
Had he not brought it up, all might have been well; but the moment he did, the man rose to his feet and slammed his palm onto the table.
The entire table split clean down the middle and collapsed onto the floor.
“It’s all your fault, you bunch of bald donkeys!” The bald man drew a long blade from his waist, strode forward, and with a single slash split the three monks’ table apart, sending shards of wood flying in every direction.
The other guests at the relay station quickly rose and scrambled to one side to avoid the chaos.
Mu Bai narrowed his eyes slightly.
This bald senior’s martial prowess truly matched his age; it was profoundly deep, comparable to that of the Yellow-Browed Monster once seen in the Prime Minister’s residence.
He was likely a figure renowned enough to be named throughout the jianghu.
He heard someone whispering softly in the corner: “Is that Scar-Eye?”
“Alas, it seems it really is.”
Those timid and cautious who overheard this didn’t even bother finishing their meal; they immediately slipped out of the relay station.
Mu Bai had heard this name before; within the Kingdom of Wuti, he was even more notorious than the Yellow-Browed Monster.
It is said that Scar-Eye originally had no scar on his face and possessed thick, jet-black hair. In his wandering days across the martial world, he was known as a dashing rogue who amassed numerous romantic debts, pursued and beaten by heroines from various schools, which suggests he must have been quite handsome.
One day, while relying on his martial prowess to commit evil deeds, he encountered Master Kong Yuan. During their fight, his left eye was injured, causing him to collapse instantly from the pain.
After Master Kongyuan stopped him from committing evil, he brought him back to Konggu Temple to recover from his injuries and even intended to take him as a disciple, guiding him through Buddhist teachings.
Scar-Eye awoke from unconsciousness to find himself lying in a meditation cell at Konggu Temple.
He pushed open the door, and a gust of wind met him face-on, leaving his head feeling cool.
So I went to find a mirror to look at myself.
In the mirror was a bald head, with a hideous, unhealed knife scar running horizontally across the left eye.
It looked just like a fierce and menacing earth-colored egg.
Enraged and humiliated, Scar-Eye stormed into Master Kongyuan’s room and began cursing furiously.
Master Kongyuan shook his head, deeming the man beyond redemption, then beat him and threw him out.
Later, for some unknown reason, Scar-Eye’s hair never grew back. He harbored deep hatred for Master Kongyuan but, unable to defeat him, resorted to harassing disciples of Konggu Temple every now and then.
Upon hearing that name, Kongyan immediately understood, grabbed his two junior brothers, and dashed out of the relay station.
Scar-Eye gave chase, only to suddenly have his arm seized by someone.
He whipped his head around and barked, “Get lost! Where did you come from, you greenhorn? Don’t get in my way.”
Mu Bai did not let go.
Scar-Eye was notorious for his ferocity in fights; seeing he couldn’t yank the arm free, he spun around and slashed with his blade.
Mu Bai had no time to draw his sword, parrying the strike with only his scabbard.
In the time it took to blink, Kong Yan had already retreated outside the post station with his two junior brothers.
Glancing back at the scene, he hurriedly shouted, “Young hero, flee quickly! That man is a madman!”
Had Mu Bai not been injured, Kong Yan would not have been so worried; yet, having been poisoned just yesterday, Mu Bai’s face remained bloodless, his entire demeanor radiating sickness.
None of the onlookers inside the post station believed that this young hero in white could withstand even three moves under Scar-Eye’s blade.
Yet, under the gaze of countless eyes, Mu Bai still drew the Tianyu Liufang sword, pointing it at the burly middle-aged man before him.
Scar watched as the blade emerged from its sheath, slowly revealing its ancient spiral patterns and seven lustrous white jade stones.
As if understanding something, he sneered, “You yellow-haired kid, dressed in white and wielding a replica sword, actually think you’re Ta Xue… If you’re going to put on a show, why not do it properly? Where are the falling petals?”
Immediately after, he saw the young man before him take out flower petals and casually toss them into the air, saying with a smile, “This junior is Ta Xue; please forgive my offense.”
The sword pointed directly at his throat.