The Jianghu is Full of Vests (GL) - Chapter 9

As the crowd returned to their positions, the clashing of wooden swords once again echoed through the arena.

Over in Group Four, with Mo Qingyuan taken away, Fu Peibai was declared the winner by default. According to the rules, she had to face her next opponent immediately. But right now, her head was spinning, her vision flashing with light, and her entire body throbbed with pain. Her right arm, crushed earlier by Mo Qingyuan, hurt so badly she could barely lift it. Still, she couldn’t surrender—not now. Not when her family’s future, her need for revenge, all hinged on this. She had to keep going. She would keep going.

She pinched the soft flesh of her thigh hard enough to make herself gasp. The sharp pain jolted her back to clarity. Switching her sword to her left hand, she held her right arm behind her back and waited for her opponent to strike.

In the end, she lost—and not just lost, but lost badly. Red marks covered her from head to toe. At first, she’d been able to dodge a few attacks, but her injuries and fatigue quickly caught up with her. Her movements slowed, her body unresponsive, and she was hit again and again with no way to escape. When the final bell sounded to mark the end of the match, her legs gave out and she dropped to one knee, barely staying upright by leaning on her wooden sword.

Head bowed, her thin shoulders shook with every labored breath.

She’d failed—completely. The opportunity had been handed to her, and she hadn’t seized it.

The crowd had gone quiet. No more jeers or laughter. Now, the gazes cast her way carried a touch of pity, maybe even sympathy.

“Fu Peibai, clear the field,” came the voice from the officiator’s platform.

She pushed herself up with her sword. At some point, she’d twisted her ankle and could now only limp awkwardly off the field. When she reached her bag, the others instinctively stepped aside, leaving a wide berth around her.

“Are you alright?”

“Need water?”

“Want to sit?”

Fu Peibai sank to the ground and shook her head wordlessly. Her mind was blank. Maybe it was the rush of bl00d to her head, or something else, but a metallic tang rose in her mouth. She licked her teeth and tasted it—bl00d.

As the crowd gradually dispersed, she closed her eyes to rest. After a while, something stirred in her memory. She grabbed her pack and dug through it, finally pulling out the jade pendant she’d wrapped carefully in clean cloth.

Clutching it, she slowly got to her feet and limped toward the officiator’s platform.

The black-clad woman saw her coming and stepped forward. “Something you need?”

Fu Peibai leaned on her sword with her left hand, her right hand trembling slightly as she held out the jade pendant—not to the black-clad woman, but toward the white-clad woman beyond her.

“Your jade,” she said. “And… thank you.”

The white-clad woman looked over through the gauzy veil covering her face. She didn’t respond.

A wave of shame washed over Fu Peibai. That woman had given her a chance. She was the one who’d failed to rise to it. Unable to meet her eyes any longer, Fu Peibai turned and stumbled away.

Once she was gone, the black-clad woman passed the pendant to the white-clad one. The latter held the piece of warm-scented jade that had been absent from her side for a month, silently running her fingers over it for a long, long time.

…

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the entrance trials of the Tianji Sect finally drew to a close. Of the 378 applicants, 222 had made it to the first round. After three grueling rounds of competition, only 47 had successfully earned the right to join the sect.

Those who had failed descended the mountain in twos and threes. Near the foot of the path, the same donkey cart still sat waiting, the village boy slumped beside the wheel, fast asleep. No one spoke to him. They quietly dispersed in different directions.

Silence fell over the clearing at the base of Mount Jinyun. Occasionally, the donkey let out a bray, lifting its hooves in frustration after standing in place all day. The noise startled Fu Peibai awake—she really had fallen asleep against the wheel.

As soon as she’d come down the mountain, her body had given out. She’d slid to the ground beside the cart, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions—confusion, despair, frustration, bitterness—until she’d simply passed out.

Now, as she opened her eyes, she realized she was the only one left. The looming mountain before her seemed like a slumbering beast crouched in the dark. Bird calls echoed now and then, sometimes interrupted by distant howls. The wind whispered through the night.

She stood, wincing at the pain that wracked her entire body. A soft hiss slipped from her lips before she managed to haul herself up onto the cart.

Where was she supposed to go now?

The world was vast, but she had no direction. She remembered what Old Wen had said—there were plenty of other sects in the world. Maybe she could try her luck elsewhere. But as her gaze fell on the massive stone archway in the distance, its grandeur silhouetted in the darkness, that stubborn sense of unwillingness—unwilling to give up—rose again in her chest and refused to be silenced.

Still, what was the point in fighting fate?

She picked up the reins, ready to leave, when a shout rang out behind her. “Gongzi, wait!”

She turned and saw the black-clad woman approaching—she vaguely remembered her name was “A’ Fu.”

She paused, confused.

Ah Fu jogged up with a friendly smile. “Our peak master sent me to ask—Chaoquan Peak is short one hand to fetch water and chop firewood. Would you be willing to take the job?”

Fu Peibai blinked, stunned. Then, as if afraid the offer might vanish, she rushed to answer, “Yes! I’m willing!”

Ah Fu laughed, her eyes crinkling. “Then come with me.”

“My… my cart?”

“I’ll have someone take care of it. You just follow me.” With that, Ah Fu headed for the stone steps leading up the mountain.

Fu Peibai stared at the long, winding staircase, suddenly filled with dread. She honestly didn’t think she had the strength to climb it again. But before she could say anything, Ah Fu grabbed her by the back of her collar and shot upward.

The world blurred. Her feet left the ground, the landscape whipping past her eyes. Within moments, they had reached the top of one of the mountain peaks. The wind howled. Fu Peibai shivered.

They walked a bit farther before reaching a narrow rope bridge suspended between two peaks, swaying slightly in the breeze. Ah Fu had already stepped onto it when she noticed Fu Peibai still frozen in place.

“Hurry up!” she called.

Fu Peibai swallowed hard. Looking down, all she could see was a deep, yawning chasm. A fall from here would leave nothing behind. She took a deep breath, grabbed the rope railing, and shuffled forward step by careful step.

When she finally reached the solid stone path on the other side, she let out a breath of relief. She turned to look back at the swaying bridge. “Is this really the only way across?”

“Mm-hm,” Ah Fu replied without turning around. “Tianji Sect has six peaks. The main one, where you did the trial, is called Cangqiong. The others are arranged around it. Qingliao is to the east, home of the sect leader. Yongxiang Peak’s in the northwest, Yunkun in the southwest, Wuju to the northeast. And this here’s Chaoquan Peak, southeast.”

She rattled off the names effortlessly, but Fu Peibai barely caught any of it. What she did catch was that this peak, Chaoquan, was where she’d be staying from now on.

Ah Fu led her through a quiet forest path lined with stones. After a short walk, the trees opened up to reveal a small but elegant courtyard.

“Quiet now,” Ah Fu said in a whisper. “Our peak master’s a light sleeper and already turned in for the night. Let’s not disturb her.”

Fu Peibai nodded and crouched down as she followed Ah Fu past the serene bamboo grove. They didn’t stop there, though—soon they arrived at the back of the mountain, where buildings were scattered around, warmly lit, and bustling with activity.

“This is Chaoquan Peak’s back quarters,” Ah Fu explained. “It’s where we handle all the miscellaneous tasks for the peak.”

Fu Peibai nodded and followed the woman toward the building. As they drew closer, she finally saw what everyone was busy with—some were washing clothes, others scrubbing dishes, picking vegetables, or bouncing toddlers on their knees as they babbled. Men and women, young and old, at least forty or fifty people in all. The scene instantly transported her back to her days in Huailiu Village. As the memories surfaced, her gaze gradually dimmed.

The woman led her to a doorway and knocked. “Brother Meng, are you in?”

Heavy footsteps sounded from inside, and then with a creak, the door swung open. A burly man leaned against the frame, letting out a rough laugh. “What brings you here this late, Afu-guniang?”

Afu gestured to Fu Peibai behind her. “This is the new boy who joined the peak today. Take him under your wing—let him get his bearings and find something suitable for him to do.”

The man raised a brow and gave the tall, slender youth a once-over, clearly unimpressed. “Skinny arms and legs like that… probably can’t even carry a bucket of water. What can he actually do?”

“Oh, quit grumbling. Anyway, I’m leaving him with you. You’re old enough to be his father, so don’t go bullying the kid, got it?” She turned to Fu Peibai. “From now on, just follow him. He’s in charge of everything in the back courtyard. Just call him Uncle Meng.”

“Oh, and about his injuries—have A’Ruo take a look at him later. I’ll be off.” With that, Afu left, leaving Fu Peibai alone with the big man.

Uncle Meng scratched at the stubble on his chin and clicked his tongue, then turned and walked toward another room. “Come on.”

Fu Peibai followed. They crossed to the building opposite, and Uncle Meng knocked firmly on the door. After a moment, it opened to reveal a young woman in her prime. Her features were soft and refined, with a delicate, southern charm. Facing the man’s gruffness, she only offered a gentle smile. “So late, Brother Meng—what is it?”

Uncle Meng pointed to Fu Peibai. “New kid’s all banged up. Give him a look.”

The woman glanced at Fu Peibai and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Just as Fu Peibai was about to enter, Uncle Meng yanked her back and barked, “Hey! Just because she’s being polite doesn’t mean you can just waltz into a young lady’s room. Got any sense of propriety, boy?”

Fu Peibai froze, a little dazed. Right—she was still pretending to be a boy. She had to mind the boundaries between men and women.

She quickly stepped back and apologized, “Sorry.”

The woman gave a soft smile. “It’s alright. A physician doesn’t fuss over such things. Come in.”

“No way. Take him to my place instead,” Uncle Meng insisted.

“Fine.” The woman turned back into the room, grabbed a wooden medicine box, and followed Uncle Meng to his quarters.

As they walked, she glanced sideways at the unfamiliar youth and started a conversation. “I didn’t catch your name. What do they call you?”

Fu Peibai kept her head down and muttered, “Fu Peibai.”

“I’m Yun Ruoling. I’m probably a few years older than you. I’m the physician here. Just call me A’Ruo like everyone else.”

Fu Peibai nodded silently. In the few words exchanged, the three arrived at Uncle Meng’s place, where the faint smell of alcohol lingered in the air.

Yun Ruoling teased, “Brother Meng, sneaking drinks again? Aren’t you afraid the peak master will catch you and punish you?”

The man grinned sheepishly and quickly shut the door. “Good sister, don’t tell anyone. Just pretend you saw nothing.”

Yun Ruoling chuckled and turned to Fu Peibai. “Don’t follow his example. Alcohol is forbidden on Chaoquan Peak. If you get caught, there’ll be consequences.”

“Sit. Let me take a look at your arm.”

Fu Peibai sat obediently. When told to try moving her arm, she raised it without much trouble—but the moment she tried to exert strength through her wrist, a sharp pain shot through it. It went limp instantly.

Yun Ruoling reached out to check her pulse, but Fu Peibai suddenly jerked her hand away, her eyes flashing with caution. Yun Ruoling paused and said gently, “I just want to take your pulse. Don’t be nervous.”

Fu Peibai remembered what Old Wen had warned her—that she must never let anyone take her pulse. A woman’s pulse was different from a man’s, and a skilled physician could tell with one touch. She stiffened and said, “No need.”

Uncle Meng clicked his tongue, mistaking her reaction. “Why are you being so bashful? You were all too eager to barge into her room earlier, and now you’re acting like a delicate little maiden?”

Fu Peibai just shook her head, firm. “No need.”

Yun Ruoling didn’t press her. “Alright. Are you feeling unwell anywhere else?”

Another shake of the head. Aside from the soreness all over, Fu Peibai just felt exhausted to her very core.

“Have you had an injury to this arm before?”

“Mm.”

“I can see your wrist trembles slightly and lacks strength. Likely tendon damage. If left untreated, you might not be able to lift anything heavy in the future.”

Fu Peibai’s expression changed. It was her right arm—the one she used to wield a sword. Her voice rose in panic. “Can—can it be healed?”

Yun Ruoling met the boy’s dark, anxious eyes and gave a small nod. “It’s treatable. I’ll use acupuncture—once every three days for about a month. You should see improvement. But for the following six months, you’ll need to be careful. No reinjury.”

“So for six months… I can’t train with my right hand?”

“It’s best not to. If you strain it again, the damage could be irreversible.”

Fu Peibai’s shoulders slumped. She suddenly looked very small.

“You’re still thinking about sword practice?” Uncle Meng grunted. “Once your arm’s better, you’ll have more than enough to do.”

Yun Ruoling continued, “As for those cuts on your face, they’re just surface wounds. Keep them clean and they’ll heal fine. Any other injuries?”

There were, of course. Mo Qingyuan had kicked her hard several times, and the wooden sword strikes had left bruises in all sorts of places—but they were all in spots she couldn’t reveal. So she just shook her head again.

“Alright then. I’ll head back. I’ll come by tomorrow to start the acupuncture. Brother Meng, find him a place to sleep tonight.” With that, Yun Ruoling picked up her box and left.

Uncle Meng scratched his chin. “No empty rooms left. You’ll sleep in here with me. I’ll take the bed, you take the floor. No complaints, right?”

Fu Peibai had none. She was already lucky to be here at Tianji Sect. So what if she wasn’t a formal disciple? She could still find ways to learn.

Uncle Meng grumbled, “Out back, there’s a well. Go fetch some water and wash up.”

Fu Peibai didn’t argue. She knew she was filthy—covered in dust, hair matted, soaked in sweat. She reeked. So she went to the well to clean herself.

The well water was icy cold. It stung a bit where it touched her scrapes, but she bore it. When she was done, she sat by the well and looked up at the sky. A waxing moon hung high above—tomorrow would probably be clear and sunny. Stars scattered across the sky in a way she’d rarely seen in the northwest. As her gaze drifted downward, she spotted a courtyard glowing faintly under the night, tucked away in the distance.

She stood, craning her neck for a better look. From this higher ground, she could see the bamboo grove and the courtyard nestled at its heart—the very one she’d passed on the way up. It was the residence of the Chaoquan Peak master.

The image of that white-robed woman surfaced in her mind—ethereal and untouchable, like a celestial being. She even had a faint, intoxicating fragrance.

Fu Peibai instinctively reached for her chest, only to find it empty. Ah, right. She’d already returned the jade pendant.

She withdrew her gaze and headed back to Uncle Meng’s room. He was already asleep, snoring softly. A bed of thick quilts had been laid out for her on the floor. She slipped off her outer robe and shoes and lay down. The bedding was warm and soft, like cotton her mother used to fluff by hand. Staring at the dim ceiling, she slowly closed her eyes.