Legend of The Frost Blade - Chapter 1

Young Master Feihua does not resemble a flower.

He is like a sword, a sharp blade hidden in an ordinary scabbard. 

His appearance is not outstanding; his features are common and his demeanor is gentle.

But outside Dali City, with a single green bamboo flute, he fought against the Demon Sect’s six commanders and achieved a great victory: At that time, he had black,silky hair like satin, his long robe whiter than snow, and pear blossoms fell in profusion. The head of Wudang, Xuantian Daozhang, bestowed upon him the elegant title “Feihua”

 Thus, Yan QingQiu’s name “Young Master Feihua” dared both the righteous and unrighteous paths not to underestimate him.

Murong Ai, known as the “Demon Blade”, does not use a blade.

He uses a sword, the “Kuaiyi Qiushuang Sword” which has drunk ten years worth of human blood.

He has sword-like eyebrows and deep-set eyes, a handsome appearance, but carries an air of malevolence.

Eight years ago, the Demon Sects’s Left Guardian Long Qian defected to the righteous path, and Murong Ai, who was in charge of the Punishment Hall, exterminated his entire family and set fire to the entire “Qianxin Garden”. At that time, the sky was filled with a crimson hue. He stood in the courtyard with a long sword in his hand, carrying a human head upside down. The flames licked away the clothes on his back, revealing a blood-red scimitar on his skin; the Emei disciples who came to besiege him exclaimed, “Demon Blade!” when they saw it.

As a result, there was now another person in Jianghu which everyone feared and avoided.

Although these two couldn’t be described as mortal enemies, they definitely couldn’t stand each other either.

However, the beauty of fate often lies in turning the most impossible situations into reality.

It was in the late third autumn, however, Chengdu Prefecture in Sichuan was not covered in cold frost, unlike the north. The leaves on the trees had yet to fall completely, and there was still the occasional fragrance of osmanthus. In some wealthy households, the chrysanthemums beneath the Embroidery Towers of young ladies were still in full bloom.

Past the small street east of Wuhou Temple is an average sized house. Usually, it is still with nothing out of the ordinary, except for the sign on the gate that reads “Qiuxiang Courtyard”, which is wiped particularly clean. The neighbors all know that the owner, surnamed Tang, is a round-faced, kind-hearted middle-aged man who loved nothing more than chrysanthemums. In autumn, when their fragrance was rich, he would come to stay for a while. The people around, young and old, have all more or less received a chrysanthemum as a gift from him, which created a harmonious relationship. When he’s away, they keep an eye out for him, guarding against fire and theft. 

That evening, the sound of a flute wafted from the back garden. As soon as Li Xiucai heard it, he knew Tang Laoye must be enjoying the flowers again. His rear window faced Tang Laoye’s garden, providing him with some unintended auditory pleasure. After listening for a while, just as the Scholar was about to close the window, the sound of the flute abruptly stopped. Following that was a woman’s piercing scream, shrill and high-pitched, which startled him into a cold sweat. Then came an angry roar from Tang Laoye, mixed with the clang of two swords clashing. Tang Laoye’s sturdy voice suddenly disappeared, as if it had been cut off.

Although Li Xiucai was only a scholar, he was not lacking in courage. He immediately rushed out the door, heading straight for the back garden of Tang’s residence. 

Through the hollowed stone window, he clearly saw among the colorful chrysanthemums the bodies of maids and servants lying in disarray. Tang Laoye’s purple brocade robe was stained red with blood, his body slumped in the bamboo pavilion, as a black-clad figure slowly lifted his head. 

Li Xiucai was so frightened that he fell back. The figure’s face turned, revealing a mask with a green face and fangs.

Li Xiucai’s soul seemed to have left his body out of fright. He scrambled out of the alley, rolling and crawling, shouting, “Murder—!” The black-clad figure lightly leaped and landed in front of him. With a swing of the hilt of his sword, he struck the scholar square in the face. Li Xiucai’s flimsy body fell to the ground, spitting out a mouthful of blood along with three teeth before fainting.

The largest restaurant in Jin Guan City, “Feng Lai”, sees at least five to six hundred guests come and go every day, accumulating all sorts of information. Today, the topic going around the most was the bloody incident at Tang’s residence last night.

A bearded man was vividly describing as saliva flew out of his mouth: “Aiya ya, you should have seen it! The blood all over the ground was like a pool of water that had been splashed around. Flower pots, wine cups, and the like were all smashed to pieces, and there were dead bodies strewn all around, pēn pēn……”

The people at the same table were all listening in stunned silence, becoming dumbfounded when they heard it. Even the waiter passing by stopped in his tracks. It was only after the shopkeeper gave a scolding shout that he hurriedly delivered the dishes, placing them in front of the white-clad guest at the next table. 

The teenage boy blushed and repeatedly apologized, while the man in white smiled gently and asked using a formal tone: “Those gentlemen, were they speaking of the “Qiuxiang Courtyard Murder case?”

“Indeed!” The waiter leaned in fawningly, “Based on your accent, you seem to be from out of town. Do you happen to know of that place as well?”

“Just passing through. I’ve been here for three days and heard about it from the locals.”

“Aiya, Young master, you see, this matter is truly terrifying!” The waiter’s mouth immediately opened as if a seal had been torn off, “There were more than twenty people in the residence, all of them killed. Even Tang Laoye had his head severed clean! I heard the murderer was just a single person. Shouldn’t that be labeled as a monster?”

“How do you know it was just one person?”

“Li Xiucai saw it! Said he was wearing a Yama mask, looking just like a ghost!”

“A mask?”

“If you ask me, it must have been the ‘Demon Blade’ Murong Ai!” A burly man next to them, holding a glass of wine, intervened.The waiter glanced at the large blade on his back and quietly slipped away.

The man in white didn’t take any offense, graciously making room for him on an empty seat. “Xiong Tai, how do you know this? I’d like to hear the details.”

The blade-wielder, with a northern accent, sat down boldly across from him and said in a loud voice: “Hasn’t it been spreading around the martial world for a while? The resilient Yang Wei from the Shandong Jinpeng Escort Agency, the ‘Top Scholar’ from the capital Wang Xiao, Guo Daxiong with his Jade-Splitting Spear from Huainan…and now Tang’s Lao Shiliu, thirteen notable figures all wiped out overnight along with their entire households over the span of four months, their heads all severed! Isn’t this just his usual way of doing things?”

The swordsman paused, carefully looking the man opposite of him up and down. He found that despite the ordinary appearance, his long, jet-black, silky hair was quite striking, held up tightly with a jade hairpin. His eyes held a warmth of gentleness, although hiding a hint of frigidness. Only a thin white shirt covered his slender figure, the green bamboo flute at his waist standing out. 

The swordsman vaguely remembered something but paid it no mind: “I see you’ve also been trained in internal martial arts, so you must have heard his name while trekking Jianghu! That demon’s famous battle eight years ago is no different from the recent series of murders!

The man in white nodded: “Yes, the method does seem similar.”

“The corpses are all marked in sword wounds, all killed with a single blow to the throat. Damn, isn’t that the most famous move in his ‘Blood-Drinking Sword Technique?’”

The man in white smiled: “You seem well-informed on these cases, Xiong Tai. However, my view differs from yours.”

The swordsman slapped his thigh and said: “Aiya, enough with the fancy talk! Just say it frankly!”

“Please think it through, Xiong Tai: If Murong Ai were the murderer and repeatedly wore a mask, it goes to show he intended to hide his identity. Why then would he use his signature sword moves and leave clues for others to figure out?”

The swordsman’s rugged face displayed a moment of surprise before he burst into laughter: “Makes sense, makes sense! Youngster, you really are something!” He patted his chest, “My name is Li Jiu, let’s be friends, ba.”

“Nice to meet you,” the man in white smiled with the warmth of a spring breeze, “My surname is Yan, Yan Qingqiu.”

Though the case at Qiuxiang Courtyard seemed simple, it was in fact giving the Prefect a headache. 

The victim’s surname was Tang, and that itself was a big issue.

Although the vendettas and killings in Jianghu generally had nothing to do with officialdom, accidentally offending a local authority figure could place his official hat at risk. Fortunately, the Tang Sect sent someone today to inform them that they would handle the matter themselves. The Prefect immediately agreed and handed over all related matters. 

Therefore, when Yan Qingqiu arrived at Qiuxiang Courtyard, apart from the white seals of the government, he didn’t see even a single shadow of an official.

The dim sunlight, veiled by floating clouds, gave the otherwise ordinary house an eerie feel, yet the warm demeanor of Young Master Feihua with his black hair and white clothes felt out of place, as if he was attending a friend’s evening banquet rather than a blood-soaked empty house. 

Yan Qingqiu slightly raised his legs and, like a white egret, effortlessly floated over the wall, landing silently on the blue-bricked ground. 

The corpses had long been removed, leaving only splattered blood stains and damaged potted plants in the notably pristine corridor. Yan Qingqiu’s soft, white cloth boots carefully sidestepped these obstacles before he stepped into the garden.

A faint scent of blood mixed with the night wind and penetrated his nose. He took out a fire striker and lit a half-burned candle that had fallen on the ground.

Large dark stains on the ground indicated the previous night’s brutality, while the neatly-cut candle stub in his hand along with the scattered chrysanthemums showed that the owner had fought with all their might.

Yan Qingqiu walked to the pillar of the bamboo pavilion and carefully examined the three small, black holes reaching up to his height. With a forceful blow from his left hand, three Bone-Piercing Darts popped out and landed on the ground. On the green stone table were some neat and conspicuous white dents about the size of fingernails, clearly left by caltrops. 

Lao Shiliu truly lived up to his Tang Clan heritage: his accuracy and strength with hidden weapons were top-notch. Unfortunately, his opponent’s movements were faster. Not only did all his hidden weapons miss, but they also cut down many prized chrysanthemums in the process. In the end, he was forced into the pavilion where he had his head severed. Judging by the marks on the ground and surrounding area, it looked like the two had exchanged no more than ten to twenty moves. In the entire Jianghu, those who could kill Tang Sect’s Lao Shiliu within a short exchange were very few. 

Yan Qingqiu sighed, extinguished the candle in his hand, and was about to turn and leave when a chilly wind suddenly brushed past the back of his head. 

He moved swiftly, drawing the green bamboo flute from his waist with his right hand, sweeping it in a wide arc to block the attack in front of him, then retreating several steps, laughing loudly: “Such an impatient friend! Why attack without saying a word, ah?”

The other party snorted, withdrew their sword, and stood silently.

It turned out to be a stranger dressed in black. 

Yan Qingqiu observed the person: the moonlight illuminated his face, vaguely revealing a handsome profile. His long, jet-black hair was loose, and his eyes reflected a cold radiance. He stood quietly in the shadows, his breathing imperceptible, but exuding a faint aura of hostility.

Young Master Feihua clasped his fists: “I am Yan Qingqiu. May I ask how I offended you, Xiong Tai?”

“What are you doing here?” came the slightly hoarse yet expressionless voice.

Yan Qingqiu continued to smile: “Tang Xiong, please forgive me. I merely heard there was trouble at your residence so I came to inspect.”

“Who told you my surname is Tang?”

“Oh,” Yan Qingqiu stood with his hands behind his back, “So that makes us both intruders. Why question me as if you are the owner of this place?”

The man in black let out a chuckle: “I didn’t expect the famous Young Master Feihua to be such an interesting person. What, are you interested in the Tang Sect’s murder case as well?”

“Not the Tang Clan, but rather the ‘Demon Blade’, Murong Ai.”

The eyes of the man seemed to flicker with a spark in the darkness: “What, the ever carefree immortal, Young Master Feihua, is also tempted by the ten-thousand tael bounty from the Five Great Clans?”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Yan Qingqiu remained unbothered, “I don’t have that kind of capability. Besides……I believe these cases were not committed by Murong Ai.”

The man in black snorted: “How would you know……”

Yan Qingqiu was about to speak when he suddenly inclined his head, “Ah, it seems the real owner is here this time. Xiong Tai, we should leave.”

Before he finished speaking, several bright lanterns sped out the corridor with an intense wind, and four young men in green robes looked warily at the two figures in the courtyard, one in black and one in white. The oldest among them stepped forward and asked: “Friends, this is the Tang Sect’s property. What are you doing, visiting us so late at night?”

Yan Qingqiu remained calm and politely stepped forward, saying: “Apologies, I am Yan Qinqiu. I heard that your Sect’s Sixteenth Master was murdered and that the case is similar to the deaths of the Twelve Heroes of the North, so I came to investigate. I apologize for not informing your esteemed master earlier, please forgive me.”

The older man looked at his white clothes, black hair, and the green bamboo flute in his hand, and his expression softened considerably: “So it’s the famous Young Master Feihua. If you could offer some guidance, the Tang Sect would be most grateful.”

“There’s no need for such pleasantries.”

He then turned to the silent person opposite him: “May I know who you are——”

The man in black slowly stepped out into the light, revealing a strikingly handsome face and a sword in his right hand; a sword entirely silver-white, as pristine as ice and snow.

The young man’s face was instantly drained of color: “Kuaiyi Qiushuang! You’re……”

“Murong Ai!”

His three fellow disciples shouted from behind, six caltrops shooting out towards the man in black. But with a flash of silver light and a few dings, the poison-quenched hidden weapons were all shattered into pieces.

The Tang Clan disciple’s face turned pale, drawing his weapon with his right hand and gripping another hidden weapon with his left.

The sudden turn in events caused Yan Qingqiu to pause for a moment in a daze, inwardly cursing: if a fight really broke out, these four youngsters would be no match for the “Demon Blade”; and as someone who has always maintained cordial relations with the Tang Sect, he would inevitably have to step in, making things even more troublesome! 

However, the man in black remained motionless, a thin smile of mockery tugging at his lips before he suddenly leaped onto the roof, disappearing into the night like an owl.

The green-robed youths were startled, but also breathed a sigh of relief; at least the Demon left on his own, avoiding a deadly clash. But why would Young Master Feihua appear here at the same time as him……

Yan Qinqiu sighed, seeing their uncertain expressions and knowing the situation had worsened.

He hurriedly clasped his fists: “Regarding today’s incident, I hope you all do not harbor any suspicions. I will explain everything to your esteemed master later. For now, I bid you farewell.”

Without waiting for the four people to reply,  he swiftly followed Murong Ai towards the outskirts of the city.

The crescent moon shone intermittently through the clouds, the shadows of the trees swayed, casting dappled shadows on the two figures, one in black and the other in white.

The “Demon Blade” and “Young Master Feihua” have been famous throughout Jianghu for about seven to eight years. Although one excelled in swordsmanship and the other in staff techniques, their agility was on par. About half an hour later, they both stopped at the same time at a gurgling stream.

Yan Qinqiu, observing that the black-clothed man’s expression had not changed at all, secretly praised him and then smiled: “It’s truly unexpected that I could go on a stroll tonight with the renowned Demon Blade. It is truly an honor worth three lifetimes.”

Murong Ai looked at the scholarly young man and sneered coldly: “Young Master Feihua, save your flattery. You are a young hero, I am a bloodthirsty demon; there’s no need to get chummy. What do you really want, say it quickly ba.”

“Murong Xiong, why do you keep people at a distance?” The smiling young man in white retained his graceful demeanor, “In fact, I’ve always admired your martial arts, and never once believed you were the culprit behind those thirteen murders. Being able to meet you today, I wanted to exchange pointers and learn from you.”

Murong Ai raised an eyebrow: “Oh? So you truly have a death wish!”

“No, no,” Yan Qingqiu quickly defended, “Please don’t misunderstand, Murong Xiong. I’m merely interested in your ‘Blood-Sucking Sword Technique’ and wanted to test its depth. Let’s spar for fifty moves, stopping after that time arrives. I’m sure Murong Xiong will not hurt me.”

“What if I do?”

Yan Qingqiu remained unphased: “If you can’t control your own unique sword technique, wouldn’t the ‘Demon Blade’ just be an empty title?”

Murong Ai narrowed his eyes but did not respond. 

“How about this, if Murong Xiong wins without injuring me, I’ll host a banquet in your honor to express my gratitude.” Yan Qingqiu thought for a moment and added, “How about including the song 《Píng Shā Luòyàn》for you to listen to?”

Murong Ai showed a hint of surprise on his face and finally nodded slowly: “I’ll be very careful not to break your bamboo flute……”

The sword moved with lightness and agility, just as any skilled swordsman must be. Though Yan Qingqiu was not a practitioner of swordsmanship, his bamboo flute moves mimicked the thrusts, slices, chops, and flicks of a sword. His body was just like fluttering petals under the moonlight, transforming into graceful poses, effortlessly countering Murong Ai’s sword moves.

The Demon Blade noticed that this seemingly modest man continuously blocked the fierce and ruthless edge of his sword with the green bamboo flute. Though primarily on the defense, he subtly utilized it as a form of offense.

Such a good opponent had been rare to find for many years!

A surge of heat rising in his chest, Murong Ai licked his lips, and unknowingly, the speed of his sword increased, sending cold winds swirling around.

Yan Qingqiu’s expression had long turned serious, fully focused on the black-clad figure and the gleaming blade before him. Murong Ai’s swordsmanship was vastly different from what he had imagined: apart from the inherent fluidity and agility of a swordsman, the ruthlessness of every sword strike, along with the speed and manner of his blows, were unlike any other swordsman.

As their duel reached its climax, Yan Qingqiu frowned as he looked at Murong Ai: at this moment, the man’s eyes seemed to faintly glow with a blood-red light, his killing intent intense. The silver light of “Kuaiyi Qiushuang” continuously brushed past his ears, neck, and even his chest. As they neared fifty moves, the attacks grew fiercer. Yan Qingqiu began to wonder if he had made a mistake; asking the “Demon Blade” not to inflict any harm was akin to asking a tiger to eat vegetables.

Seeing the silver sword dangerously close to hitting his left rib again, he moved his flute to block it, but the sword tip suddenly angled up from inside the bamboo flute, aiming straight for his throat, so fast that he had no time to retreat. Yan Qingqiu was horrified, inwardly thinking this was bad, before feeling a bit of coolness on his neck.

It turned out that Murong Ai merely pressed the sword tip gently against his skin, not advancing a step further, as that handsome face showed a smile from less than half a foot away.

Yan Qingqiu felt a cold sweat on his back. He retracted his flute and gave a deep bow: “Impressive, impressive. Murong Xiong’s sword moves are extraordinary, but his ability to retract his sword energy in an instant leaves me speechless.”

Murong Ai sheathed his sword, letting his disheveled hair hang down: “In that case, I look forward to the fine wine, delicious food, and a performance of 《Píng Shā Luòyàn》from Young Master Feihua.”

“Yes. After half a month, at West Lake ‘Ciufang’ in Hangzhou I will be awaiting  you.”

FOOTNOTES

Titles

Feihua: “Flying Flower”

Daozhang: “Taoist Master/Priest

Xiucai:  Scholar

Laoye: (Old)Master/Mr.

Lao Shiliu: Old Sixteenth(Master)

Xiong/Xiong Tai: A more formal and respectful way to address a male peer or someone of similar age and status.

Places
Punishment Hall: The Demon Sect’s Criminal Justice Department

Jianghu: General term for the entirety of the martial arts world

Ciufang: A scenic spot in Hangzhou, Zhejiang Province, China

Chengdu: Capital city of Sichuan Province in southwestern China

Emei: A sacred Buddhist mountain in China

Objects

Kuaiyi Qiushuang: The name of Murong Ai’s sword, “Joyous Autumn Frost”

Yama Mask: A mask referencing King Yama, the Underworld Ruler in Chinese Mythology

Government Seal: Taping or seals that close off an are of investigation; Like police tape

Sounds

Aiya: A noise of exclamation expressing surprise, shock, and sometimes pain. Commonly used for “Oh(no/dear/my), ouch…” Repetition shows emphasis.

Pēn: An onomatopoeic expression used to imitate a spurting/splattering noise.

Ba: A sentence-final particle that softens the tone, making a sentence sound more like a suggestion or a mild command, rather than a direct statement. Can also imply a question or assumption, akin to saying “right?” or “okay?”

Ah: A versatile particle that can be used to express various emotions or tones, such as excitement, surprise, agreement, or emphasis. Its meaning largely depends on the context and intonation.

Other

“An honor worth three lifetimes”: This phrase expresses deep gratitude or an immense fortune, suggesting that the situation or person is a rare and extraordinary gift that one feels immensely lucky to encounter.

《Píng Shā Luòyàn》: “Wild Geese Descending on a Sandbank,” a traditional piece for the Guqin, an ancient Chinese seven-stringed zither.