Chapter Sixty-Eight: The First Emperor's Tomb

“It’s finally over.” Zhou Qian thought silently to himself, yet felt not a trace of joy. With so many dead, what was there to be happy about?

“The Hundred-Armed Sword Immortal and Master Tu both saw true!” Lou Yuxiao laughed heartily. To have such swordsmanship and a mind so sharp—how many years has it been since the martial world produced a talent like this? Linghu Ye was one, Zhou Xun was one, Suo Cuohada was one, the Red Lotus Sect Leader was one—who else? Tu Yong was too domineering, the Tang Sect’s master too sly. Among the young heroes of today, few could match Zhou Qian.

“Congratulations, and thank you,” Fei Yue said sincerely. “You kept the Tang Sect from compounding their mistakes.”

“Not at all,” Zhou Qian managed a slight smile. “If the Tang Sect hadn’t cooperated with Wang Hu and staged this play, how could the real culprit have been caught? Now that the First Emperor’s tomb is about to open, I’ll need the Tang Sect brothers to give their best effort.”

Fei Yue was taken aback, then a smile broke through. Was this matter settled? Zhou Qian hadn’t used the opportunity for revenge. By rights, the Tang Sect’s elaborate scheme was vicious enough; if revealed, it could have greatly damaged their reputation and invited retaliation from the Beggars’ Gang. Yet Zhou Qian showed magnanimity—in truth, he realized Zhou Qian’s intent: the imperial court did not want the Beggars’ Gang to dominate the martial world, so keeping the Tang Sect around maintained balance. The Tang Sect, having received Zhou Qian’s favor, would be less inclined to pursue the Beggars’ Gang even if they possessed real evidence of wrongdoing. It was retreat in order to advance.

“What a formidable young man!” Fei Yue exchanged a wry smile with Mr. Tu.

“Hu, it’s up to you now,” Zhou Qian turned to Wang Hu, now freed of his bonds.

“What do you mean by that, Third Brother?” Wang Hu frowned; he didn’t want to profit at his brother’s expense.

“You endured days as the accused murderer, letting me steal all the limelight. Now it’s time for you, Hu.”

“But…” Wang Hu hesitated.

“Big Brother, you said we don’t play with fake honors among ourselves!” Zhou Qian said firmly. “Besides, Hu, I truly am weary now.” His voice carried a note of desolation.

On the way back, Mo Shaoguan remarked, “First it was Xiang Feihe, then Wang Hu, and finally the killer was Qiqiao’er. I think every martial artist on this ship must be on the verge of madness…”

“When we were clearing Qiqiao’er’s body, a pair of refined steel gloves fell from her bosom. So that’s why the Mouse was killed by a master of fist techniques.” Uzier sighed.

“So it’s all finally over…”

Early the next morning, Zhou Qian’s door was knocked upon. Wang Hu, bold and hearty, carried two huge jars of wine, grinned at Zhou Qian and said, “I know you’re feeling low. Come, drink with me.”

“But Hu, it’s barely dawn…” Zhou Qian protested.

“When the mood for drink strikes, who cares what time it is! The important thing is to drink heartily!”

Wang Hu dragged Zhou Qian up to the highest deck of the Sandbird Tower Ship, over ten yards above the water. Before them, the river surged and foamed, mountains encircled the banks, white birds soared overhead, and a gentle breeze caressed their faces. It was supremely comfortable; the grandeur of Mount Li was already visible in the distance.

“To think, back in Changzhou, three little beggars—who could have guessed what the future would bring?” Wang Hu mused, taking a deep swig. “What did we hope for back then? Li wanted to train hawks and dogs, bully and lord over people, become a young master. You, Third Brother, probably dreamed of opening a shop and becoming a cook. As for me, I thought I’d be a guard, taking over from my godfather. Heaven has treated us kindly!”

“Haha,” Zhou Qian grinned, “But Li wasn’t thinking that—he told me he wanted to open a grand inn and hire me as the chef, buy a big house and make you the guard, then boss us around and order us about.”

“He dares!” Wang Hu huffed and glared. “I’d tear him apart!”

“Here, this is for you.” Wang Hu handed over a brocade box. “From the Tang Sect.”

Zhou Qian opened it, finding fifty thousand taels in banknotes. He chuckled, “Looks like the Tang Sect is really bleeding this time.”

Wang Hu rolled his eyes, “Serves them right. The martial world may ignore rules, but only for the winners. Their plot was exposed, so they pay the price!”

Zhou Qian hesitated, “Hu, is the Beggars’ Gang really going to rebel?”

“We did consider it,” Wang Hu looked around and lowered his voice. “But that was ten years ago. The old man’s heart has cooled. As he says, ‘Thirty years to conquer the world, another thirty to govern it. How could I live so long?’”

“In those days, the old man was confused for a moment, really wanted to raise the banner in the name of Princess Chang of the Hu dynasty, and left some ‘things’ with her. Who knew such ancient, trivial matters would come out now?” Wang Hu sighed. “This time, the old man ordered me to destroy those ‘things’ and erase all traces, lest they become evidence against us.”

“You Beggars’ Gang are really unlucky,” Zhou Qian said.

“Aren’t we just!”

There was a silence. Wang Hu grinned, “Still sad, Third Brother? That Lady Hu had a thing with you, didn’t she?”

“I’m a little down,” Zhou Qian nodded. “There are so many things I can’t make sense of anymore…”

“Oh?” Wang Hu took a gulp, burped, and said, “Tell me about it?”

“My master’s swordsmanship was supreme, his talent unrivaled; Elder Tu was powerful in the martial world; the emperor enjoys all under heaven—yet after a hundred years, they all return to dust. All these intrigues and faction struggles—what are they for?”

“A hundred years of glory, yet all become bones in the grave. It’s really meaningless.” Zhou Qian sighed.

Wang Hu stared at Zhou Qian, as if trying to find a flower blooming on his handsome face. Suddenly he asked, “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Maybe drifting on a lake, maybe wandering the great rivers and mountains. I’m tired of the martial world.” Zhou Qian shook his head and smiled. “Hu, there really are immortals out there—roaming the nine heavens, exploring the four seas, observing the rise and fall of the world. That’s a life worth envying!”

“Indeed, how could a sparrow know the ambition of a swan!” Wang Hu smiled wryly.

“Of course,” Zhou Qian’s tone brightened, “I can still taste delicacies from all over the world, create dishes from ancient to modern times! Being an immortal is best after all!”

“You’re still you!” Wang Hu slapped his knee and laughed.

“And why shouldn’t I be me?” Zhou Qian laughed as well.

They drank for two full hours. Suddenly Wang Hu muttered, “My belly’s bursting from all this wine.”

“Agreed!” Zhou Qian felt the same.

“Remember that game we played as kids?” Wang Hu said. “Li told me you always lost to him?”

Zhou Qian bristled, “Nonsense, Second Brother was always half a foot behind me!”

“Shall we compete now?” Wang Hu gave him a sideways glance.

“Let’s!”

Together, they pulled down their trousers, two backsides exposed to the river, and began a childish contest of urinating into the current—a feat only the most bored and immature could attempt.

“Haha, Big Brother, your stream didn’t go as far!”

“Nonsense, I wasn’t ready yet.”

“Ha ha ha! Third Brother, you see, I’m not worse than you!”

“But can you last as long as me?”

“More than enough!”

Both faces turned red with effort. Suddenly Zhou Qian pulled up his trousers and said lightly, “Big Brother, you win.”

“Third Brother, you…”

The August river wind was fickle. Suddenly it shifted, blowing straight at them, reversing the water’s direction. Like rain on loquats, droplets splashed everywhere—mouth, clothes, face, hands.

“Ugh!” Wang Hu was furious, “Third Brother, you tricked me!”

“Big Brother, you won but still act unreasonable!” Zhou Qian’s voice echoed from afar.

At noon, after the truth came out, everyone on the ship held Wang Hu in even higher regard. These men might be willing to risk their lives, but to endure humiliation was far harder. The Beggars’ Gang’s Tiger’s reputation soared!

After more than ten days of travel, the Sandbird Tower Ship finally reached the foot of Mount Li. The mountain was known for its beasts and poisonous snakes, and legends spoke of ghosts; there was little sign of human habitation, let alone a ferry. The ship, forced to anchor near the shallow shore, sent iron chains to the bank; with various skills, everyone managed to disembark.

“Brother Zhou, we’ll see you off here,” Wu Zhang said awkwardly, knowing he had betrayed Wang Hu and the Beggars’ Gang for personal gain. Though shrewd, he felt uneasy.

“Thank you for the escort!” Zhou Qian was unconcerned; the matter was past, and he was the winner.

He grasped the chain lightly and slid down.

“What a remarkable young man!” came a hoarse voice nearby.

“Your Excellency!” Wu Zhang bowed low. Only one could merit that address—the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea, Wang Zhi! And Wang Zhi was on the Sandbird Tower Ship.

“About…”

“No concern.” Wang Zhi waved his hand. “My life was saved by Zhou Xun, not that old Tu. His disciple has no ties to me. You needn’t worry about the First Emperor’s treasure—what’s ours is ours. The martial artists of the Central Plains value reputation above all and won’t cheat us out of our share.”

Zhou Qian and his companions followed the map’s route in silence. After three days, they finally reached their destination. Before them, a military camp bustled, the clash of arms echoing without pause.

At the very front stood Zhou Xun, the Tang Sect master, and an old general clad in armor, exuding murderous intent.