Chapter 27: Li Jingyi

On Jingyang Ridge, countless green pines grew, their evergreen branches lending a hint of vitality to this already gloomy hillside throughout the four seasons.

Having just left that rustic inn, Chen Jiu followed behind Wu Song as they set foot upon the mountain path leading up the ridge.

From time to time, melodious birdcalls echoed from the dense woods all around, mingling with the persistent chirr of crickets, making the stillness seem all the more raucous.

Wu Song strode forward with the bearing of a dragon and tiger; though the mountain road was steep, he moved with effortless ease.

Resting his cudgel on his shoulder, he spoke without looking back, “Young man, you don’t believe there’s a tiger on this mountain, do you?”

Hearing this, Chen Jiu thought, I most certainly believe there’s a monster here…

But outwardly, he only replied ambiguously, “Who can say? Perhaps there is, perhaps not.”

Wu Song let out a cold laugh. “That innkeeper is just trying to scare people. Follow me, and by tomorrow morning, we’ll be safely down Jingyang Ridge.”

Chen Jiu made no comment.

Though he was tempted to ask Wu Song about his origins, he recalled the saying, “A hero’s past need not be questioned,” and so he kept his curiosity in check.

The two of them continued along the ridge, one ahead, one behind.

After about half an hour, the sky was tinged with crimson dusk. The surroundings gradually darkened, while mist began to rise from the forest below.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they finally reached a somewhat level platform.

Chen Jiu, following behind, saw a tall stone wall ahead, evidently hewn by human hands.

Upon the stone wall was a somewhat tattered notice.

Wu Song’s brows drew together as he approached.

After a moment, he read aloud in a deep voice, “Notice from Xinyang County: A great tiger has recently appeared on Jingyang Ridge, claiming lives and committing all manner of evils…”

Wu Song’s expression grew grave as he finished reading. “So there really is a tiger…”

Chen Jiu, knowing this part of the tale, said, “Shall we turn back, then?”

Wu Song stood silent for a moment, then snorted, “Turn back now? That would only make us the butt of that innkeeper’s jokes!”

Chen Jiu laughed to himself.

Indeed, heroes are ever mindful of their pride.

Had it been him, he might have already fled down the mountain in terror.

“If you’re afraid, I’ll see you safely down,” Wu Song offered, glancing at Chen Jiu.

But Chen Jiu shook his head. “Brother Wu, you underestimate me. I possess some minor spells—not enough to slay a fierce tiger at a glance, perhaps, but certainly enough to hold my own.”

Wu Song’s eyes flickered. “Oh? You know magic?”

Chen Jiu smiled faintly. “Just a few paltry tricks, nothing worth boasting of.”

Wu Song nodded. “So long as you have some skill, that’s enough. If we truly encounter a great tiger, just help me with a feint—leave the rest to me.”

Chen Jiu had no objections; after all, he’d known the story of Wu Song slaying the tiger since childhood, hearing it from his grandfather again and again.

So the two of them passed beyond the stone wall, preparing to venture deeper into the ridge.

Just then, a slender scholar in a moon-white robe suddenly emerged from behind the stone wall.

Startled, Wu Song spun his cudgel, whipping up a fierce gust.

“Who are you?” he demanded sharply.

The man in the moon-white robe glanced at them, then replied, “My name is Li Jingyi. I came up the mountain earlier today, but after seeing the county’s notice, I was so unsettled that I decided to wait here, hoping to find companions for the journey.”

Unnoticed, a flush crept across Wu Song’s face.

“Well, if you’re not afraid, join us,” he said.

Li Jingyi bowed gratefully and hurried to Chen Jiu’s side.

Chen Jiu returned the courtesy. “Sir, you have real courage, waiting here alone for so long.”

Li Jingyi bowed again. “I suppose I was lucky not to encounter the great tiger.”

Chen Jiu nodded thoughtfully.

The three of them continued on together, passing the notice-covered stone wall and plunging into the ever-thickening mist.

…

The sun had long since dipped below the western horizon; it was now the end of the evening hour.

Darkness crept in from all sides, and the moon rose quietly into the sky.

Chen Jiu, sweat beading his forehead, brought up the rear of the group, shivering as he gazed at the pale blue light filtering through the woods.

From the forest came the eerie calls of night owls, heightening the sense of unease and dread.

Li Jingyi, walking ahead of Chen Jiu, appeared calm and untroubled, light-footed and serene.

Yet Chen Jiu felt an inexplicable aversion toward him, though they’d never met before. Even he could not say why he disliked the man so instinctively.

Before long, Wu Song halted.

He gazed gravely at a massive stone stele ahead, inscribed with characters.

“Jingyang Ridge…”

The crickets’ chorus never ceased, and from time to time, an owl hooted in the distance.

Wu Song loosened his sweat-soaked garments, then suddenly laughed aloud.

“Hahaha! What tiger is there to fear?”

Li Jingyi suddenly asked, “Good sir, what’s the matter?”

Wu Song staggered a few steps and plopped down onto a large stone.

A sharp light flashed in Chen Jiu’s eyes. He said, “Mr. Li, don’t you smell anything?”

Li Jingyi sniffed the air, puzzled. “Is there some kind of scent?”

Chen Jiu’s gaze grew cold. “Even from this distance, I can smell the reek of wine on Brother Wu, yet you claim not to?”

Wu Song had drunk eighteen bowls of wine—though he’d bent the rules by surpassing the customary three, he was no immortal, and the wine had clearly taken its toll.

With such a heavy aroma, it was strange that Li Jingyi remained unmoved; this alone made Chen Jiu deeply suspicious.

Li Jingyi’s expression changed slightly, but he managed a weak laugh. “Oh, you mean the smell of wine? Of course I noticed.”

Chen Jiu’s eyes gleamed, boring into Li Jingyi. “Then answer me—how long have we walked from the stone wall to here? How far have we come?”

Li Jingyi looked up at the moon, thought for a moment, and replied, “Roughly half an hour; as for the distance, from the wall to here should be nearly thirteen li.”

Chen Jiu nodded.

Li Jingyi, perplexed, asked, “Is something amiss?”

Chen Jiu shook his head. “The time matches, and the distance matches. But the person walking does not.”

Li Jingyi’s brows furrowed. “Daoist, why are you pressing me so?”

Wu Song, hearing the dispute, steadied himself against his dizzy head and asked, “Little brother Chen, do you sense something wrong?”

Chen Jiu nodded, then walked to Wu Song’s side and pointed at Li Jingyi. “Spirit—are you not ready to reveal your true form?”

Li Jingyi feigned confusion. “Daoist, what are you talking about?”

Wu Song’s sword-like brows rose as he fought the effects of the wine and pushed himself upright, exclaiming, “Brother Chen, you’re saying this man is a ghost?”

Li Jingyi’s expression turned livid. “Daoist, I can’t believe a man of your path would slander others so! Good sir, look at me—do I resemble a ghost in any way?”