Wu Tong said, "You and I have no personal enmity. I did not wish to harm you, and for today's matter, let it end here. Leave at once!"
The Palace Mistress of the Palace of the Fairy Empress, Nangong Yan, supported by two of her disciples, struggled to her feet. A trace of melancholy crossed her face—though she felt unwilling, the situation left her no choice but to swallow her anger. She turned with difficulty, mounted her horse with her disciples' help, and with a wave of her hand, the Palace of the Fairy Empress's entourage withdrew.
At this, the Beggar Sect's Wu Branch Master said, "No wonder our Sect Leader, Elder Fei, always says that among the young heroes of the world, Wu Tong of Guangzhou in Lingnan ranks first."
Wu Tong clasped his fists in salute and replied humbly, "The Beggar Sect's leader is the true hero of this age. I am truly unworthy of such praise."
Zhao Rou and Liu Yun were all smiles, their faces like blossoming flowers. They came forward, their slender jade-like hands soft as silk, each taking one of Wu Tong's hands, striding forward together. As the saying goes: Heroes seldom shed tears, but beauty's favor is the hardest to refuse. Wu Tong's handsome face flushed slightly, his heart filled with joy. In high spirits, he called out, "Everyone, let's head back into the city!"
The group marched toward the city gates in grand style, no longer concerned about pursuit—there would be none.
Verse:The hero's chivalrous heart entwined with tender feelings.A smiling beauty's jade hand reaches out.A hero's face flushed with joy.Refreshed in spirit, with beauty at his side.
For days thereafter, Wu Tong, Zhao Rou, and Liu Yun traveled together, visiting scenic spots, wandering through famed rivers and mountains, lingering among lakes and hills, savoring this carefree time. They rode horses across the countryside, drifted in boats across clear lakes, composed and recited poetry, and laughed over tales of the martial world. Their bonds deepened with each passing day, until no barriers remained between them. Young men and women, full of youthful pride, may not yet know the taste of sorrow, yet they still find ways to speak of it in verse—as if the whole world held only wind, flowers, snow, and moonlight, only deep affection and righteous loyalty. Peaceful days seemed the greatest happiness in life.
But time passes, and partings must come.
One day, the Heavenly Sovereign Sect prepared to depart for their headquarters. Wu Tong and Zhao Rou came personally to see them off. Though reluctant, they knew that farewells were the way of life for those who roamed the martial world.
At that moment, the Sect Leader, Liu Xuan, looked seriously at Wu Tong. "Son-in-law, we will return to the headquarters ahead of you. Your Sister Yun's martial skills still need refining. If she follows you on your travels, you may be stretched thin. Should danger arise, you would have to protect her and face your foes at the same time—it might be too much."
Wu Tong paused, recognizing the truth in Liu Xuan's words. Bowing, he said, "Father-in-law speaks wisely. Please guide Sister Yun's training well, so that she may soon achieve mastery. Then she can walk the martial world at my side, sharing wind and rain."
Liu Xuan nodded, pleased, and turned to his daughter. "Yun'er, your father will go on ahead. You three can speak a while longer—catch up with us later." With that, he led the Heavenly Sovereign Sect away.
Liu Yun gazed at Wu Tong, her eyes full of reluctance. She held his hand lightly and said softly, "Brother Tong, even a thousand-mile journey must end in parting. Don't come further. When I return, I will train hard. On the ninth day of the ninth month, I will not disappoint you."
Wu Tong looked at her with tenderness. Taking her hand gently, he said, "I hope you achieve your goal soon. On the ninth day of the ninth month, let us meet again at the Central Plains Anti-Rebel Martial Assembly in Qizhou, Henan."
Zhao Rou, standing nearby, her eyes misty, added softly, "We'll meet on the ninth day of the ninth month… at the Martial Assembly."
The three embraced, saying nothing, as if to etch the moment forever in their hearts. Tears welled in Liu Yun's eyes; Wu Tong brushed them away with gentle fingers, then bent to press a deep kiss on her forehead. "This is my promise to you."
Liu Yun nodded, her eyes shining with resolve and longing. She gave Zhao Rou and Wu Tong one last, lingering look, then mounted her horse. Her hair streamed in the wind; with a clear neigh from her mount, she spurred it forward, galloping away until she disappeared on the horizon.
Wu Tong watched her go, a trace of melancholy in his heart—but more than that, anticipation. He believed they would meet again amidst the storms of war. Turning, he saw Zhao Rou also looking wistful. Taking her hand, he said gently, "The three of us—let's meet in Qizhou on the ninth day of the ninth month."
Zhao Rou smiled. "Certainly."
They shared a knowing smile, then mounted their horses side by side, seeking the ferry to cross into Jiangbei. This was a farewell, but only a temporary one. The road of the martial world was long—they would surely ride together again.
It was early July, the summer heat oppressive. After disembarking from the ferry, Wu Tong looked out from the riverbank and caught sight of the evening glow. In a distant village, thin streams of cooking smoke curled into the sky. He recalled Wang Wei's verse: "At the ferry, the setting sun remains; in the village, a lone wisp of smoke rises." As night fell, the two found lodging in a small town by the Yangtze. After many days on the road, they turned in early.
The next morning, they went downstairs for breakfast. The inn was busy with patrons. Suddenly, they overheard an old man say, "Some days ago, a grand Anti-Rebel Assembly was held at Tengwang Pavilion in Hongzhou. But An Lushan sent the Black Dragon Sect's leader, Murong Gui, to cause trouble. The moment he entered, he swaggered about, boasting that the Mighty Martial Emperor was raising troops to punish the Tang, just as Tang overthrew Jie of Xia, or King Wu overthrew King Zhou of Shang, and that all under Heaven would turn to him!"
Another old man asked, "Was the Black Dragon Sect really so arrogant?"
The first replied, "Indeed! The Beggar Sect Leader cursed him outright: 'You son of a—! A dog will always be a dog! Shameless! Spouting nonsense about Tang overthrowing Xia or Shang—what rubbish!' Just then—"
By now, the whole inn was listening. The second old man urged, "Old Wang, don't stop there—go on!"
Old Wang pointed at the wine jug. The second old man quickly said, "Waiter, two jugs of wine and a plate of beef!"
Old Wang cleared his throat. "A figure suddenly shot toward the Beggar Sect Leader, Fei Jin, moving like lightning. The attack was vicious, aiming straight for his head. There was a gasp from the crowd, faces changing color. But Fei Jin met the strike head-on, cutting into the attack and delivering a single palm strike. Bang! The attacker flew through the air, crashed to the ground, and died on the spot!"
A young man at a nearby table, stirred to excitement, called out, "The Beggar Sect Leader is truly a hero! The Black Dragon Sect were asking for it—like provoking the Tiger God himself—serves them right!"
Old Wang nodded. "Exactly! Even Murong Gui, the Black Dragon Sect Leader, had to hold back—one of his men had just been killed in front of so many heroes. And yet, he still stood there in the assembly and declared: 'The Mighty Martial Emperor is a man of great talent and vision. The fall of Chang'an is at hand. When the dynasty changes, you will all be branded rebels!'"
The second old man exclaimed, "That Murong Gui is truly arrogant!"
Old Wang said, "Master Li, you don't know. Murong Gui's name has rung loudly in the martial world for the past ten years. Many say his martial arts are unmatched in our time."
Master Li asked anxiously, "Then what can be done?"
Old Wang replied, "At that moment, a young man named Wu Tong stepped forward and shouted, 'An Lushan is worse than a pig or dog!' The whole assembly was shaken. Master Li, alarmed, said, 'That young man is too bold—he's risking his life!' But I told him, 'Don't worry. This Wu Tong has both great skill and great courage.' Then the Black Dragon Sect sent out Chu Tianba—'King Chong'—a man who terrorized the Jiangnan region. He's tall, broad-shouldered, with a leopard's head, round eyes, and a bristling tiger's beard. The two fought fiercely, and to everyone's shock, this Chu Tianba, scourge of Jiangnan, was struck by a single palm from Wu Tong and spat blood!"
Master Li, unable to contain himself, cried out, "Truly, heroes come from the young!"