Heading South to Taihu

After claiming the first clear of the Dongming ship dungeon on hard difficulty, Tang Xuan, a level 30 inner disciple of Shaolin Temple, set out on a journey at the behest of his sect, seeking tempered experience through travel.

Northern Shaolin is located in the Song Dynasty’s territory. After leaving the temple, Tang Xuan noticed a marked increase in the number of players active in the martial world. The last time he descended the mountain with his master, the venerable Master Xuan Zhi, to attend the grand martial gathering at Dasheng Pass, there had been only a scattering of players along their route. Back then, most players had just left the novice villages and were still learning within their respective sects, striving to conquer the Black Wind Stronghold dungeon on hard and nightmare difficulties.

Now, many outer disciples in the various sects had already reached level 20. Upon reaching this threshold, these disciples would be sent out by their sects to travel the land and complete certain tasks. Upon returning and fulfilling these missions, they would be promoted to inner disciples and granted access to their sect’s superior martial arts.

Only after mastering these advanced skills could parties of level 20 players attempt the Dongming ship dungeon on standard difficulty. Without such martial prowess, the two master-level bosses, both between level forty and fifty, at the end of the dungeon would be insurmountable foes.

Having reached the ranks of a third-rate martial artist at level twenty-something, Tang Xuan now encountered many such players on his journey after leaving Northern Shaolin. Each had been assigned different trial tasks, depending on their sect’s nature. Generally, the renowned orthodox sects tasked their outer disciples with acts of justice—protecting the weak, upholding chivalry, punishing local tyrants, or eradicating bandits to bring honor to their orders. Taoist and Buddhist sects, such as the Quanzhen Sect and Shaolin Temple, also sent disciples on proselytizing missions. Minor sects like the Sand-Sea Sect, which subsisted on smuggling salt, required their disciples to undertake smuggling-related tasks. The Giant Whale Gang specialized in piracy, and their disciples’ trials involved attacking merchant ships at sea. For a sect like the Dragon Gate Escort Agency, the disciples’ task was, naturally, to serve as armed escorts. The demonic sects—Sun-Moon Divine Sect, Ming Cult, and the Eagle Sect—assigned their disciples a wild variety of missions.

As an inner disciple, Tang Xuan had bypassed the promotion task at level 20, but upon reaching level 30, he too was required to travel and gain merit—an opportunity to earn virtue and thus unlock even more advanced techniques.

“I’ll head south to Jiangnan first,” Tang Xuan decided upon leaving Northern Shaolin.

There were rumors in the martial world: Ma Dayuan, the vice-chief of the Eastern Beggar Clan, had been killed by his own signature technique, the Throat-Locking Grapple. Upon hearing this, Tang Xuan knew that a great upheaval was brewing within the Eastern Beggar Clan—the true identity of Chief Qiao Feng was about to be revealed! The Beggar Clan’s treasured weapon, the legendary Dog-Beating Staff, was in Qiao Feng’s hands. As one of the successors to the Dog-Beating Staff Technique, Tang Xuan naturally had an interest in the divine weapon. Moreover, he and Qiao Feng had both been secular disciples of Shaolin, disciples of the Xuan-generation monks, and shared the bond of fellow apprentices.

Jiangnan. Taihu Lake.

Tang Xuan journeyed from Northern Shaolin to the lands of Jiangnan and began to explore the surroundings of Taihu Lake. Word on the street was that the Apricot Grove Incident, which would expose Qiao Feng’s true heritage, was imminent—one could even sense the tension among the local Beggar Clan members.

But with the event not yet underway, Tang Xuan saw no point in waiting idly at Apricot Grove. Instead, he chose to enjoy the beauty of Taihu Lake. Here resided the illustrious Murong clan, whose name stood alongside the legendary Qiao Feng, and among them was Wang Yuyan, famed as the most exquisite beauty in all of “The Grand Wuxia.”

While sightseeing, Tang Xuan inquired about the locations of Swallow Dock, home of the Murong clan, and Mandala Manor, the residence of Wang Yuyan’s family. Despite asking many people, no one could tell him where to find Swallow Dock or Mandala Manor—perhaps it was a language barrier, or simply that the locals were unwilling to share.

The dialects of ancient China varied greatly; the local tongue of Gusu left Tang Xuan, a northerner, utterly perplexed. Such realism was a testament to the immersive detail of “The Grand Wuxia” game.

At this moment, Tang Xuan was still wandering by the lake, struggling to communicate with an old man. The old man, wishing to help, attempted to speak the common tongue, but what came out was so garbled that Tang Xuan could not understand a word.

Just then, from a small boat by the shore, a young girl who had overheard their exchange suddenly called out, “Young master, are you seeking Sanhe Manor? What business do you have there?”

Her voice was sweet and clear, with a soothing quality that instantly put one at ease.

Tang Xuan turned and his eyes lit up.

The girl appeared to be about sixteen or seventeen, her face gentle and delicate—a quintessential Jiangnan maiden. She was not a great beauty by conventional standards, not quite matching the likes of Wang Yajun or Jiang Wanwan, but her moderate looks, combined with an exceptional softness, made her as attractive as any renowned beauty.

Her words were touched with the local dialect, but her official speech was clear enough for Tang Xuan to understand. He smiled and replied, “I have long admired the fame of North Qiao Feng and South Murong. I have come specifically to pay my respects to Young Lord Murong.”

He had already guessed her identity—could it be that by chance, here at the lakeside, he had encountered Abi, one of the Murong household maids?

In saying this, he both established his identity as a martial artist and expressed his desire to call on the Murong clan, adhering to the customs of the jianghu and showing proper respect.

Sure enough, the young woman’s expression shifted slightly, and after a moment’s thought, she replied, “What an unfortunate coincidence! Young Lord Murong just left two days ago. Had you arrived three days earlier, you would have met him.”

Tang Xuan understood: Murong Fu was not at home. His guess had been correct—the girl was indeed from the Murong family.

At that moment, a loud voice called from afar, “Miss, do you know the way to Sanhe Manor?”

Tang Xuan and the girl turned toward the sound.

They saw, in the distance, a tall monk striding forward, accompanied by a young man. The monk’s qinggong was extraordinary; even carrying someone alongside him, he covered two or three zhang with each step and soon drew near.

Once standing still, it was clear the monk was less than fifty years old, dressed in coarse linen and straw sandals, his face radiant with a subtle gleam, as if he were a natural jewel shining with inner light. The young man beside him was fair-skinned, exceptionally handsome, and exuded an air of noble privilege.

Kumochi and Duan Yu?

Recognizing them, Tang Xuan marveled at the coincidence. Given the astonishing qinggong displayed, few in the world could match such skill.