It was a small town—though "town" was perhaps too grand a word. Really it was a biggish market village called Qingniu Town, and only the unlettered folk who lived in the mountain hollows nearby insisted on calling it "Qingniu City." Such was the private thought of Zhang Er, a gatekeeper of twelve years' standing.
Qingniu Town was indeed small. There was only one main street, the east-west Qingniu Street, and only one inn—the Qingniu Inn, which sat at the western end of the long, narrow town. Travelling merchants who wished to avoid sleeping under the open sky had no choice but to stay there.
A carriage, clearly worn by the road, rolled in from the west. It swept past the gate of the Qingniu Inn without stopping, and raced all the way to the far end of the town, pulling up before the door of the Chunxiang Tavern.
The Chunxiang Tavern was not large, and rather old, yet it carried a certain antique charm. Since it was noon, the dining tables were packed with customers, its seats nearly all taken.
From the carriage stepped a plump man with a round face and a small mustache, and a dark-skinned lad of about ten. The man led the boy boldly into the tavern. Some regulars recognized the plump man—called him "Han Fatty," the tavern's steward—but no one knew the boy.
"Old Han," someone suddenly joked, "that dark one looks a lot like you. You didn't father a son on the sly behind your wife's back, did you?"
The remark set the crowd roaring with laughter.
"Pah!" The plump man was not offended but rather pleased. "He's my own nephew from my branch of the family. Of course he bears some resemblance to me."
The two were none other than Han Li and his Third Uncle—"Han Fatty" to all who knew him—who had traveled three days straight and only just arrived in town.
Han Fatty greeted a few familiar faces, then led Han Li to the back of the tavern, into a secluded little courtyard.
"Xiaoli, rest well in this room and build up your strength," he said kindly, pointing to the side room. "Once the steward of the inner gate arrives, I'll call for you. I have to step out now to attend to some regulars."
With that, he turned and hurried away. At the doorway he paused, as if uneasy, and added one more instruction.
"Don't wander off, now. There are too many people in town. Don't go getting lost. Best not to leave the courtyard at all."
"Mmm!"
Only when Han Li gave his obedient reply did Han Fatty walk out for good.
Exhausted, Han Li had no sooner seen his uncle leave than he collapsed onto the bed and fell fast asleep, without the faintest trace of a child's homesickness or fear of strangers.
That evening, a servant brought his dinner—not a feast, but tasty enough. After he ate, another servant came to clear the bowls. Only then did Han Li's uncle saunter in, unhurried.
"So, how did you find the food? Missing home a little?"
"Mmm, a little," Han Li answered dutifully.
His uncle seemed pleased with the answer and fell to chatting about domestic matters, boasting of amusing people and curious adventures he had seen. Gradually, Han Li shed his reserve and began to laugh and talk along with him.
And so two days passed.
On the third day, as Han Li finished his supper and waited for his uncle to come tell him more stories of the jianghu, another carriage drew up before the tavern.
This carriage was lacquered a gleaming black, and pulled by a rare yellow-maned horse, one in a hundred. But what drew the eye most was a small triangular black banner fixed to its frame, bearing the character "Xuan" embroidered in silver on a red border. The flag gave off a subtle, ineffable air of mystery.
Any veteran of the wandering world within hundreds of miles knew that seeing that banner meant a person of importance from the "Sect of Seven Mysteries"—one of the two great powers of the region—had arrived in town.
The Sect of Seven Mysteries, also called the Sect of Seven Extremes, had been founded two centuries earlier by the renowned Seven Extremes Elder. In its heyday it had dominated Jing Province for decades, even spreading its influence into neighboring provinces and winning fame throughout the whole kingdom of Yue. But after the Seven Extremes Elder died of illness, the sect's power plummeted, and allied sects drove it from Jingzhou City, the provincial capital. A hundred years ago, the sect had been forced to relocate to the most remote corner of Jing Province—the Immortal Xia Mountains—where it had taken root and dwindled into a third-rate local power.
Still, as the saying goes, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse. Having once been a great sect, the Sect of Seven Mysteries retained no small strength. Settling in the region of the Caixia Mountains, it promptly brought more than a dozen small towns, including Qingniu Town, under its control, and gathered three or four thousand disciples beneath its banner. It was, in name and truth, one of the two great local powers.
The only force in the region able to stand against the sect was the Wild Wolf Gang.
The Wild Wolf Gang traced its origins to a band of pillaging, murdering horse-bandits that once roamed Jing Province. After repeated campaigns by the authorities, some of the bandits had accepted the imperial pardon, while the rest had reformed themselves into the Wild Wolf Gang. But they carried over the bandits' savagery, their bloodlust, their willingness to kill and fight. Time and again, the clashes between the sect and the gang had gone against the Sect of Seven Mysteries.
The Wild Wolf Gang held more towns and villages, but it did not know how to manage them; in wealth and prosperity it lagged far behind the sect's holdings. Envious of several of the sect's richer territories, the gang had lately been provoking repeated conflicts, giving the current Sect Leader no small headache—and that was precisely why the sect had been recruiting disciples so eagerly of late.
From the carriage sprang a lean, forty-something man. His movements were quick, clearly the motions of a skilled fighter, and he seemed familiar with the place, striding straight toward the room where Han Li was staying.
No sooner did Han Li's uncle lay eyes on the man than he stepped forward and bowed with deep respect.
"Protector Wang, you've come in person?"
"Humph!" The man snorted, an arrogant look on his face. "The roads have been unsafe lately, so the Elder ordered the defenses strengthened and sent me to fetch the children myself. Enough talk. Is this boy the one you're recommending?"
"Yes, yes. He's my own nephew, from my family. I hope you'll look after him on the road, Protector Wang."
Seeing that the man was growing impatient, Han Fatty quickly drew out a heavy little pouch from his clothes and handed it over discreetly.
Protector Wang weighed it in his hand, and his expression relaxed somewhat. "Han Fatty, you know how to handle people, don't you? I'll keep an eye on your nephew along the way. But it's getting late—let's get moving."