Chapter Nine: When Has Heaven Ever Been Merciful

A long silence, heavy and wordless. Su Lichen felt like a fish cast out of water, suffocating, on the verge of asphyxiation. Powerless, he dropped to the ground, staring blankly at the green mountains beyond the doorway.

“Sixteen years ago, the Sacred Sect’s Serpent Envoy, Fang Shu, and the disciple Wu Yan were on an errand in Chengdu Prefecture when they chanced upon a lecherous thief abducting a young girl. Naturally, the two could not stand idly by and gave chase.

The villain was cunning beyond compare; he not only separated them during the pursuit but also covertly administered the vile aphrodisiac ‘Red Candle’ to Elder Fang. The medicine was insidious—women who fell victim to it would lose their senses, obsessed only with seeking pleasure with any man.

At the moment of crisis, a young hero chased the villain away. But alas, the drug’s effects overwhelmed Elder Fang, and an irreversible mistake was made.

When the leader of the sect learned that Elder Fang had lost her honor, he flew into a rage and decreed her execution. Uncle Wu Yan pleaded desperately, claiming that he had long harbored feelings for Elder Fang, coveted her beauty, and in a drunken stupor had drugged and assaulted her, taking the blame upon himself.

Uncle Wu Yan was cast into the Abyss of Ten Thousand Serpents, suffering the agony of snake bites, denied peace even in death. Elder Fang was stripped of her poisonous skills, and after giving birth to Lady Fang three years later, she died from the poisonous backlash.

Do you know why the old sect leader was so furious? Because Fang Shu was the very Saintess of Mount Hua he had personally chosen.”

Listening to Su Lichen’s wooden, indifferent voice, Lu Liao remained motionless, like a carved figure. But at the mention of the Abyss of Ten Thousand Serpents, she began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Brother Su! I beg you, kill me. Please, do not throw me into that abyss—I cannot bear such torment.” Lu Liao’s face was deathly pale.

After a long inner struggle, Su Lichen finally stood and walked to the door. “Lu Liao, go. Go as far as you can.”

Lu Liao had always believed herself unafraid of death, but the thought of perishing in the jaws of a thousand snakes filled her with terror. Forcing herself to her feet, she cast a hesitant glance at Su Lichen.

“If I leave just like this, what will happen to you, Brother Su?”

Su Lichen closed his eyes, his voice drifting, “Me? I know nothing.”

He took a careful look around the room and the courtyard. Aside from those accursed porcelain bottles, it seemed there was nothing of his own. He tucked the bottles close to his chest, instinctively slid the blood-stained dagger into his belt, and stood dazed for a moment. At last, he entered Lady Fang’s bedchamber, rummaged through the powder box for a handful of silver shards, and left.

Su Lichen’s figure appeared lonely and desolate. Lu Liao could find no words, only managed a slight bow, “Take care, Brother Lichen.”

Su Lichen did not turn, nor did he speak. He only returned her bow from an angle.

Lu Liao had barely taken a few steps when Su Lichen’s low, heavy voice came from behind, “Never tell anyone. Often, the antidote is the true poison.”

Lu Liao paused, but did not look back, oblivious to Su Lichen’s guilt-ridden face, bowed and unable to watch her go.

Only if Lu Liao escaped or vanished would this matter have any chance of being concealed.

One by one, the grass and trees, the mountains and valleys, fell away behind him, becoming ephemeral and unreal. He turned back, gazing foolishly into the depths of the mountains.

There, he had tended the herb fields, swept the courtyards; there was the kitchen where he cooked, the stream where he washed clothes; there were the bright moon atop the peak, the gentle breeze, and the figure who had caused him endless suffering, yet whom he relished and was unwilling to leave behind.

All of it seemed dreamlike, illusory, unreal. But the warmth lingering in his body recalled the blazing passion of last night, a fire that left him suspended between ecstasy and agony, unable to let go.

Forget it, just forget it—it was only a dream. Now, all he wanted was to go home.

On the mountain road, he passed other disciples—men and women alike, their faces alight with eager anticipation for the coming Mount Hua Festival. None spared a glance for this inconspicuous medicine slave.

The old man guarding the mountain gate gave Lu Liao a knowing smile as she passed and let her go without a word.

In the Five Saints Sect, there were no runaway slaves—never. One either returned quietly to the mountain, or died from poison, leaving nothing but bones behind.

He vaguely remembered the small town at the foot of the mountain. If he could find the post station and board a carriage, he could leave. So leaving was, after all, so simple.

“Young man! Where are you off to?” A Miao woman, bold in dress and exuding mature charm, intercepted him.

Lu Liao dared not look at the expanse of white at her chest, dropping his head and replying softly, “To Xichang County.”

The woman boldly pinched his cheek. “Such delicate skin—hardly like a mountain boy. Where are you headed in Xichang? How about coming up the mountain with me to see the Mount Hua Festival? Be my companion, will you?”

Seeing the wanton smile on her face, Lu Liao grew anxious and indignant, but unable to break free, he lowered himself to pleading, “Sister, I’m on urgent business in Xichang, please let me go.”

She laughed. “Such a handsome little fellow—I like you! How about we slip into the woods and you keep me company for a while?” She pointed enticingly to the nearby forest.

Lu Liao’s face flushed with anger. In desperation, he invoked Lady Fang’s name, “I’m the medicine servant of Lady Fang, Serpent Envoy of the Five Saints Sect, sent by her to handle affairs in Xichang. If I’m delayed, neither of us can afford the consequences. Please, Sister, don’t toy with me.”

She burst into laughter. “I’ve been out of the valley less than two years, and Lady Fang already found herself such a handsome servant. That little girl is all grown up!”

After her laughter, she teased him further, “Well, as it happens, I’m Lady Fang’s senior, the mistress of Serpent Valley. Do you dare disobey me?”

Lu Liao sighed inwardly—must a man like him truly submit to such indignity?

“Mei Chou! What are you doing? The mountain eagle brought a message.” A man’s voice called from afar.

Mei Chou slapped Lu Liao’s shoulder. “Coward! Did you really think I’d eat you?” She left, laughing.

Lu Liao breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the unexpected rescue.

He hadn’t yet reached the town when his savior turned hunter—the path was barred once again, this time by Mei Chou and the man who had called her.

Mei Chou looked him up and down with great curiosity. “So this is the little fellow who destroyed our Serpent Valley’s sacred artifact, the Soul-Devouring Flute? How is he still walking around as if nothing happened?”

Lu Liao was utterly bewildered.

The man, impatient, said coldly, “Enough talk! The sect leader’s orders—dead or alive, throw him into the Abyss of Ten Thousand Serpents as food for the vipers.”

Lu Liao understood nothing of sacred artifacts or Soul-Devouring Flutes. He only knew one thing: he would never go to that abyss, not alive or dead.

Before the two could react, he had already dashed into the woods at the roadside.

Mei Chou shook her head in regret. “Poor boy! The road to paradise lies open, yet he rushes into hell. The Heartless Ridge is not a place one enters lightly.”

Unhurried, she and the man pursued him.

Branches lashed his face without mercy, thorns tore at his clothes and flesh, but Lu Liao paid no heed, fleeing headlong into the depths of the forest.

Whenever exhaustion overcame him and he wished to pause for breath, the bold, passionate mountain songs of the woman would rise behind him.

In the year he’d spent on the mountain, he’d heard such songs—Feng Yao had sung them, Lady Fang had sung them, even Wu Ya would sometimes drunkenly break into a tune or two. Back then, Lu Liao listened with a smile, finding them delightful. Now, the woman’s song was a harbinger of death.

His tongue lolled from his mouth as he panted for air, reminding him of the hunting dogs of Tianmen Mountain, racing themselves to exhaustion just as he was now.

Soon, more mountain songs echoed through the forest—a call and response, growing in number until there were more than ten. Their voices formed an invisible net, slowly closing in on Lu Liao, but they did not hurry; he was like prey in its death throes, unable to escape their encirclement.

He stumbled into a muddy pit, utterly spent and unable to move. Each breath tore at his lungs.

Was this the end? Whether devoured by venomous insects or wild beasts, Lu Liao no longer cared. He only wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

The morning sun crested the clouds, painting them with brilliant red, declaring the dawn of a new day. Dew washed the leaves, returning to the earth, dropping onto Lu Liao’s face like tears, mourning the misery of this child’s fate.

He opened his eyes, his tongue greedily licking the dew into his mouth. The coolness soothed his throat, restoring a trace of life. Glancing at the sachet at his waist, he dragged his aching legs toward the rising sun.

The deathly song began anew, but Lu Liao was no longer afraid. He pressed on resolutely, climbing higher until he heard the distant roar of water behind the mountain.

There was nowhere left to go. Below the cliff raged a wild river, behind him the shadows of his pursuers drew closer.

“Heaven above! What unforgivable crime have I, Lu Liao, committed that you drive me to such a dead end?” he cried in grief and anger.

The crimson sun leapt into the sky, casting its golden rays across the mountains and rivers.

No answer came to Lu Liao’s lament.

He looked at the encroaching figures, their smiles as mocking as cats toying with a mouse. In his heart he swore, “If there is a next life, I will never be a slave. I will never again be hunted like a dog, with nowhere to escape.”

He slowly closed his eyes, shutting his heart to the world. But in his mind appeared Lady Fang’s tear-stained face, her eyes filled with despair.

A farewell, stuck in his throat, unspoken—Lu Liao leapt from the cliff.