Chapter Four: First Encounter! Clash of Blades

Ouyang Ke’s eyes gleamed, his heart shook, and he no longer paid any attention to Tolui. With a languid smile, he said, “Who do you take me for? Once I give my word, there’s no question of going back on it. However, he may leave, but Miss Huazheng, you should stay…”

“Very well.”

Cheng Lingsu had already anticipated that he would not let matters rest so easily. But this was for the best—she alone could still maneuver against Ouyang Ke and look for a chance to escape. With Tolui present, she would inevitably be distracted by concern for him. Thus, before Ouyang Ke could say anything further, she cut him off and agreed without hesitation.

Ouyang Ke hadn’t expected her to consent so readily. He laughed aloud. “That’s more like it. With that troublesome eyesore gone, we can have a proper conversation.”

Cheng Lingsu ignored him and turned away. She took from her bosom a handkerchief embroidered with blue flowers, gave it a quick shake in the air, and wrapped it around Tolui’s wounded palm. She put the two blue flowers back into her clothes, then quickly explained the situation to Tolui, urging him to return at once.

Tolui’s face was ashen. He took two steps back, suddenly snatched up the single saber beside his foot, fixed his gaze on Ouyang Ke, and brought the blade down fiercely in front of him, cleaving a stroke through the air. “Your martial arts are superior; I am no match for you. But today, in the name of the son of Temujin Khan, I swear to the sky god of the steppe: when I have vanquished all those who have plotted against my father, I will challenge you to a duel! I will avenge my sister and show you what it means to be a true hero of the grasslands!”

Though he was the son of a Mongol chieftain, Tolui was courteous and loyal, not arrogant like Doshi. Yet his pride was in no way less than Doshi’s. As Temujin’s favorite son, he knew well his father’s ambitions: to make all the land under the sky part of the Mongol pastures.

For this goal, he had trained with the army from childhood, never wasting a single day. Who could have imagined that after all these years of hardship, he would fall into the enemy’s hands? Worse, he was unable to bring his sister, who had come to his rescue, safely back home! He understood that Cheng Lingsu was right—he must put Temujin’s safety above all else and return quickly to rally the troops and support his father, who had been ambushed. Yet the thought of his sister being forcibly detained here filled him with such shame it nearly choked his breath.

Among the Mongols, one’s word was sacred, especially when sworn before the sky god worshipped by all the steppe. Knowing he was outmatched, Tolui nonetheless made his oath, his face solemn and sincere, the words ringing with heroic spirit. Though not a master of the martial world, years in the camp had given him a kingly bearing very like Temujin’s own—overbearing and majestic. Even Ouyang Ke, who didn’t fully understand his words, felt a flicker of unease.

Cheng Lingsu’s heart warmed. The blood of Temujin’s daughter within her seemed to feel Tolui’s stubbornness and resolve, surging through her veins until her eyes burned with unshed tears. Turning calmly, she positioned herself between Ouyang Ke and the direction he might attack, and said softly, “Go quickly, hurry back. I have my own way to escape.”

Tolui nodded, stepped forward and embraced her briefly. Without another glance at Ouyang Ke, he turned and ran towards the gates of the camp.

On the way, a few guards saw him running out. They tried to stop him, but he felled each one with a single stroke of his blade.

Only when she saw Tolui seize a horse at the edge of the camp and ride off into the distance did Cheng Lingsu finally breathe a sigh of relief.

In her previous life, her master, the King of Venom Hand, used poison as medicine to cure the sick and save lives. Yet he firmly believed in karma and retribution, so that in his later years he embraced Buddhism, cultivating his nature until he reached a state of equanimity, free of anger or joy. Cheng Lingsu had been his youngest disciple in those last years, deeply influenced by his teachings. Now, after the wheel of fate had turned and she had died, something had brought her here again. She could not help but believe that perhaps, in the unseen workings of destiny, there was another purpose for her presence.

She had never intended to become entangled in the affairs and people of this world. She had even dreamed of finding a way to slip away, to return to the banks of Dongting Lake, to see what the White Horse Monastery looked like after centuries had passed. To open a small clinic, heal the sick, and spend her days cherishing the longing and affection she still carried from her past life.

But if Temujin were to fall, the Mongol tribe she had lived with for ten years would be doomed as well. Her mother and brothers who had truly cared for her, as well as the tribespeople she saw every day, would all suffer. After so many years together, how could she stand by and do nothing?

The thought brought another soft sigh.

Ouyang Ke, noticing her gazing after Tolui and sighing repeatedly, lifted his chin and sneered. "What, do you find it so hard to part with him?"

Hearing the implication in his tone, Cheng Lingsu frowned and came back to herself. She blurted out, "I'm worried about my brother. Isn't that only natural?"

"Oh? He’s your brother?" Ouyang Ke raised his eyebrows, a fleeting look of delight in his eyes. "Then... that other young man from earlier is your lover?"

"What nonsense are you—" Cheng Lingsu abruptly stopped, realizing, "You mean Guo Jing? You were here before... You knew as soon as we arrived?"

"It wasn’t 'you all'—it was you! The moment you entered, I knew," Ouyang Ke said smugly, clearly enjoying her reaction.

Though Cheng Lingsu had dismounted far from the camp, his internal strength and keen hearing were far beyond those of ordinary Mongol soldiers. He had noticed her almost as soon as she slipped into the camp. Just as he was about to reveal himself, he saw Ma Yu intervene and take both her and Guo Jing away.

Years earlier, his uncle Ouyang Feng had suffered a great loss at the hands of the Quanzhen priests, so the Western Venom lineage had always harbored some resentment and wariness toward the Taoists. Ouyang Ke recognized Ma Yu’s robes and, recalling his uncle’s warnings, decided against making an appearance. Instead, he watched from the shadows as they exchanged words.

He had thought Cheng Lingsu would persuade Ma Yu to storm the camp and rescue the prisoners. Unaware that Ma Yu was the leader of the Quanzhen Sect, he assumed that, besides the tens of thousands of soldiers, the camp had several martial artists under Wanyan Honglie that would be enough to keep Ma Yu occupied—perhaps even allowing him to take the opportunity to eliminate Ma Yu and weaken Quanzhen. He hadn’t expected the Taoist to leave with Guo Jing and leave Cheng Lingsu behind alone.

By now, Cheng Lingsu had pieced things together. "Wanyan Honglie has come here in secret to provoke strife between Sangkun and my father, in the hope that the Mongol tribes will be consumed by infighting. That way, the Jin Dynasty won’t have to worry about threats from the north."

Ouyang Ke had no interest in such schemes, but seeing how seriously she spoke, he nodded along and praised, "You really are clever, seeing through it all at a glance."

She brushed aside a windblown strand of hair, her gaze as clear and cold as the waters of the Onon River. "You serve Wanyan Honglie, and yet you let Guo Jing go to report back, and now you’ve let Tolui go to raise troops. Aren’t you afraid you’ll ruin his plans?"

Ouyang Ke laughed, reached out, and lightly touched her chin. “Afraid? What do his plans have to do with me? If I can win a beauty’s smile, isn’t that worth anything?”

Far from smiling, Cheng Lingsu frowned slightly and took a half-step back, dodging the fan he tried to hook under her chin. She reached out, and with a crisp snap caught the black iron fan in her hand. Instantly, a chill shot from the metal into her bones, almost making her let go. Only then did she realize the fan’s frame was forged from black iron, as cold as ice.

“What’s this? Do you like my fan?” Ouyang Ke gave a casual flick of his wrist, pulling the fan free and folding it with a snap. With another flourish, he opened it again and waved it gently in front of him. “If you fancy something else, I could give it to you. But this fan…” He paused, then smiled slyly. “If you really like it, stay by my side from now on, and you’ll see it every day…”

Author’s note: Oh, Ouyang Ke, can’t you just give Lingsu the fan she likes? So stingy!

Ouyang Ke: But that was a gift from my—cough, uncle…