Chapter Ninety-One: The Storytelling Gathering

The prisoner who called himself “one who enters the Way through martial arts” had a vile character and a strange temper.

For the same request, if anyone else made it, he would brush them off with cold ridicule. Yet when Hong Jian made the same appeal, and on account of her being a lovely woman, he agreed without much hesitation.

Because both Hong Jian and the old man were complete laymen in matters of martial training, teaching them to send messages over great distances took the fellow quite a lot of breath and patience. He began with the dantian, first teaching them how to sense vital energy, how to circulate inner power, and only then the incantation for that distant voice transmission.

This had nothing in common with the methods of cultivation, so both Hong Jian and the old man found it all immensely novel. Yet the difference in how the two were treated was like heaven and earth; it was obvious that if it had been only the old man, this martial expert would never have had the patience or interest to teach him at all.

As the man had said, Hong Jian’s body, having already established its foundation, adapted to such a small trial with ease. In just two days, a robust sense of vital energy had formed within her dantian, and by the fifth day she had already mastered the distant voice transmission.

During that time, the guards came twice to deliver food. From far away she heard their footsteps, and the man would promptly fall silent; only after they had gone off did he begin again, speaking flirtatiously to Hong Jian.

“Lovely lady, we’ve become so familiar with each other, and I still don’t even know your name. How awkward is that?”

Over these few days, Hong Jian had also come to understand his temper. Ignoring his incessant chatter, she asked directly, “And you? What is your name, and why were you imprisoned here?”

The man seemed to think it only fair to let Hong Jian know him first, and so he answered readily: “Your humble brother is named Lu Yanzhang, not yet a hundred years old, and I once took a master. I come from the renowned immortal sect of Immortal Gorge Cave. You’ve heard of Immortal Gorge Cave, haven’t you? Back when I was there, I was simply too particular. So many pretty girls, and in the end I never properly took a partner for life.”

“Lu... Yanzhang.” The three syllables turned once in Hong Jian’s heart. For some reason, the characters in her mind were the goose of a wild geese and the long of enduring affection. She thought, “That is a fine name. So he really is from Immortal Gorge Cave. I wonder what crime he committed?”

“Heh heh, ha ha!” Her thought was cut off by a sudden burst of laughter. The voice was entirely unfamiliar, carrying the air of an old and seasoned man. “You impudent young lout with no respect for your elders. What is this ‘distant voice transmission’ anyway? Strip away the fancy wording and it is hardly worth mentioning. The old man has already learned it; what of it?”

“So what?” Lu Yanzhang shot back at once. “You shameless old fossil, the lovely lady isn’t going to pay you any mind anyway. Whether you can do it or not, you’re still talking only to me. What’s there to be pleased about?”

Since this was learning someone else’s martial art, some face had to be given. Hong Jian remained silent. The old man probably found it boring after thinking it over himself and let the matter drop.

Lu Yanzhang had won the exchange, yet he suddenly cried out, “Ah, right! Old man, what was your cell number again?”

The old man replied lazily, “What a memory you have. Didn’t I tell you it was Vermilion Bird Ten?”

Lu Yanzhang ignored the mockery. He asked Hong Jian, “Lovely lady, and you?”

Hong Jian replied, “Vermilion Bird Thirteen.” After a pause, she added, “My surname is Fang.” Both sentences she had attempted to send out with distant voice transmission.

Lu Yanzhang treated Hong Jian, the rare girl in this prison, with remarkable consideration. At once he called out, “Miss Fang.” Then his tone changed abruptly, and he began to curse in anger: “Which dead man is in Vermilion Bird Twelve? He stole my martial art and couldn’t even say so? Damn it all, even begging for scraps ought to earn a word of thanks.”

Hong Jian immediately understood. Lu Yanzhang was being held in cell number eleven. For several days he had wasted who knew how much spit and breath before only now discovering that right beside him there had been another person silently reaping the profits.

But after being confined so long, was there still anyone who could resist such temptation? Hong Jian could not help suspecting that Vermilion Bird Twelve was in fact an empty cell.

“Get lost!”

The shout burst like thunder in the sky, startling Hong Jian. Not only Hong Jian; the entire prison fell suddenly silent, and even Lu Yanzhang lost his voice for a moment.

It was simply... how to say it? The man had indeed learned distant voice transmission, but his forceful shout made one’s ears ring with a buzzing shock. He and Hong Jian had clearly learned it at the same time, so for him to achieve this meant his cultivation was far above hers—whether he was at the perfect stage of the Gold Core realm or had already formed his Nascent Soul, she could not tell.

That said, whether Gold Core or Nascent Soul, once locked in the Demon Refining Prison he was no different from a useless cripple. The troublesome part was that he had learned distant voice transmission too, and his foundation sounded so solid. Picking a verbal fight with him would only be asking for misery.

Thinking it over, Lu Yanzhang lost his earlier fire. The days in this lightless place were already hard enough; if there was a chance to pass the time talking with a girl, why insist on cursing like a street thug with a madman? That would be foolish.

The old man in Cell Ten, seeing how Lu Yanzhang bullied the weak and feared the strong, sneered and jabbed at him with a few mocking words. Thus the two of them quarreled, and half the day passed in their noisy bickering.

The old man gave his surname as Hu, but his origin and background he guarded like a secret.

Having someone to talk to truly made the days much easier to bear.

That day Lu Yanzhang, as usual, pestered Hong Jian into conversation and asked curiously, “These old geezers really are inhuman, locking up a girl. The ones sent to the Vermilion Bird side are all serious criminals. Miss Fang, what exactly did you do that was so unforgivable?”

Looking back on what had happened, Hong Jian felt as though she were recalling a life from another world. She did not wish to revisit it and changed the subject. “Is there a difference between Azure Dragon and Vermilion Bird?”

Lu Yanzhang had not asked only to pry into her past. So long as she answered him in some way and let him hear that clear, pleasant voice, he was satisfied. At once he followed her question and explained, “The Azure Dragon side holds the newcomers who’ve just come in; their punishment hasn’t been settled yet. As for the White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise wings, the farther along you go, the graver the crime. Here in our place, the few of us can still chat with each other. I hear that over in Black Tortoise they’re holding monsters who’ve slaughtered whole swathes of people. I reckon even if you used distant voice transmission, you still wouldn’t be able to get a word through.”

Hong Jian was left in a daze. She knew that in terms of cultivation, she was probably the lowest-ranking person in this prison, but judging from Sui Yiyun’s inexplicable attitude last time, the degree to which she was valued might have surpassed even those true demonic cultivators. And yet she too had been locked in here. She wondered what sort of people were imprisoned in the Black Tortoise cells above Vermilion Bird.

Lu Yanzhang was very troubled by Hong Jian’s watertight evasions, and he coaxed her on: “Since we’re all idle anyway, why not have some fun and make a wager? I’ve got an interesting game. Old Hu, are you in?”

It was rare for Lu Yanzhang to take the initiative, so Old Hu seemed somewhat interested and said, “Bet on what? Let me tell you, boy, gambling is what I do best.”

Lu Yanzhang laughed. “It’s dark and we can’t see each other anyway. How about this: each of us tells two true experiences from our own lives, and they must be the most interesting or most dangerous things we’ve ever encountered. The listeners then guess whether the story is true or false. If the same person gets it right twice in a row, that means the storyteller wasn’t sincere, and he loses. Then he has to accept a penalty.”

“Hmm, heh heh, not bad. I like it.”

“What does Miss Fang think?”

Hong Jian’s heart stirred. This was a good opportunity to learn about their pasts. She asked, “And if one loses, what exactly is the penalty?”

Lu Yanzhang grinned. “Good question! We’re all locked up in this dark prison and can’t even see one another. Why not do it like this: whoever guesses right consecutively is the winner, and the loser has to agree to one request from the winner. Of course, since we’re living so close together in the same cell block, that counts as fate, so the request mustn’t make the other person too embarrassed or put them in a bind.”

“I have no objections,” Hong Jian replied. A prisoner had no freedom to speak of anyway, and since Lu Yanzhang had already set the stakes, the prize was nothing more than a harmless embellishment.

Old Hu suddenly said, “The fellow in Cell Twelve, since you’re sitting there all bored by yourself, why not join us too?”

Hong Jian heard Old Hu extend the invitation, and Lu Yanzhang did not object. It was obvious that both of them were intensely curious about whoever lived in Cell Twelve.

That man had only uttered the single word “Get lost” on that one day. At all other times, no matter what the three of them said, he remained silent, so much so that people often forgot there was such a person at all. Since Lu Yanzhang had come up with such a good idea, everyone wanted to hear what sort of background this somewhat mysterious man had.

“Hmph. If it’s an actual experience, then in the end the storyteller can say it was true or false as he likes. Who could refute him? What a useless, rotten idea!”

At last, the prisoner in Cell Twelve broke his silence and began to nitpick.

Old Hu paused, as if only now realizing the problem, and said, “Yes, that would be hard to handle.”

Lu Yanzhang gave a soft snort. “Truth cannot be false, and falsehood cannot be true. We all hear it with our own ears. If you don’t have even that bit of courage, then being exposed and still refusing to admit it, just so everyone can witness your shamelessness, wouldn’t be so bad either. Since the idea was mine, I’ll go first. You can follow the order of the cell numbers, from lowest to highest. No objections, right?”

He stopped and, seeing that the others had no disagreement, began to recount what he called his first experience.

“I told you before that I was originally a martial artist in the mortal world. By the time I was in my thirties, I was nearly without rival in the martial world. Later, by chance, I blundered into the cave abode of a cultivator. Since that cultivator had passed away in seclusion there, quite a few valuable things were left behind. I found a method for refining qi inside. Back then I knew nothing at all about the ways of cultivation, but I also found a technique in that cave. Before I had even established my foundation, I had muddled through and learned it.”

“Ha! False. This part is obviously meant to fool us.” Old Hu interrupted him at once.

Yet Hong Jian’s heart moved. Could it really be such a coincidence that Lu Yanzhang, like her, had cultivated his natal technique before establishing his foundation? She could not help asking, “Brother Lu, what spiritual root do you have, and what technique did you cultivate?”

Lu Yanzhang answered, “Me? I have a metal spiritual root. The technique is called Radiance Piercing the Sun.”