The Perils of the Mountain Stream

“Hmm, how did you come to know about this, Second Brother? I recall you rarely paid much heed to such matters!” His sudden revelation, coupled with his evident excitement, left me utterly perplexed.

“Because, I’ve seen it before—a Japanese remake, ‘Shi Guanyin Battles Chu Liuxiang.’ Especially that opening scene where Shi Guanyin passionately self-…” Yang Chun trailed off with a lewd chuckle. “Oh, hehehe, Fourth Brother, you know exactly what I mean. If First Brother and Third Brother are curious, I likely haven’t deleted it from my hard drive yet! It’s the file ‘Shi Guanyin.avi’!” He concluded, a truly depraved grin spreading across his face.

I froze, then instantly grasped the lewd implication of his words, and couldn’t help but scoff in his direction. Though First Brother and Third Brother remained somewhat clueless, hearing Yang Chun’s utterly depraved laughter, and then learning it was a Japanese production, they naturally began to piece together the unsavory details.

****

In essence, Mount Huangshan was a name that resonated far and wide, its fame extending across the land. Consequently, the imperial court had long since designated and developed it as a special tourism zone. Especially during extended holidays such as this, Mount Huangshan, if not quite a veritable sea of people, was undeniably teeming with crowds; by no stretch of the imagination could it be considered sparsely populated.

Embracing this thought, I decided to abandon my worries and simply follow my father’s directions on the map. After boarding my horse at the post station nestled at the foot of the mountain, I navigated a series of winding turns, tracking the map’s indicators. It was then that I realized my father had truly not misled me! For the path he had marked did not lead to the well-trodden tourist route, but rather took a circuitous route, entering the mountain from its flank. Before I knew it, I had left the clamorous crowds far behind. The few travelers I still encountered occasionally moved with a remarkable swiftness, their eyes gleaming with an inner vitality—a clear sign that they were masters of martial arts.

In truth, it was hardly a strange phenomenon. This region, with its rugged mountains, treacherous waters, and vast stretches where eagles soared and grass grew wild, was a place ordinary folk, lacking martial prowess, would never dare to tread. Viewed from another angle, it was, in fact, an exceptional sanctuary for the cultivation of martial arts.

As I ventured deeper into the mountain forests, an unwelcome dryness began to parch my throat, yet the water in my pack had long since been depleted. With no clear direction and feeling utterly adrift, I wandered aimlessly until, thankfully, the faint murmur of water reached my ears.

Filled with a sudden eagerness, I jogged towards the sound, soon discovering a small stream cascading from the mountain depths. Without hesitation, I knelt by its edge, drinking my fill until my thirst was quenched, then refilled my water flask. I had just turned to resume my journey when, after only a few steps, a sudden, urgent need arose. With a swift change of mind, I promptly turned back.

As the ancient adage declares, ‘Heaven is about to bestow a great responsibility upon this person.’ For a long time after that pivotal incident, I found myself constantly questioning what peculiar impulse had seized me, compelling me to turn back. My ordinary life’s trajectory, a path I had trodden for eighteen unremarkable years, along with the subsequent destinies of countless individuals and events, were, in that single moment, irrevocably rerouted.

Sometimes, hatred manifests as a tragic massacre, wiping out an entire lineage—first the father slain, then the wife abducted. And then, at other times, hatred is merely a narrow stream, with one’s enemy downstream, and oneself positioned upstream.

“The mountain spring water of Huangshan is truly sweet and refreshing!” a slightly rough voice boomed, imbued with an undeniable, heroic gusto.

Following the sound, my gaze fell upon a group of four or five figures downstream. Each was clad in close-fitting martial attire, a long saber strapped to their back, and all possessed a formidable, robust bearing. Leading them was a coarse, forthright man, evidently the very individual who had just voiced his hearty exclamation. At this very moment, they were mirroring my earlier actions, stooping by the stream to drink deeply of the mountain spring, no doubt parched from their wanderings through this untamed wilderness.

As these thoughts crossed my mind, an involuntary shiver ran through me. I hastily moved to pull up my trousers, utterly oblivious that my presence had already captured the burly man’s attention. At that precise moment, he was in the midst of cupping a handful of spring water to drink, simultaneously turning his head to glance upstream in my direction—just in time to witness my motion of hitching up my pants.

“Pfft!”

Water erupted, scattering like shattered crystal. The burly man expelled the entire mouthful of spring water, drenching the companion kneeling to his right, head to toe.

“Boss, what in the world are you doing?!” his companion immediately yelped.

“No, you little brat, what—what the hell are you doing?!” Without so much as a glance to apologize to his drenched companion, the burly, bearded man stomped his foot and bellowed at me.

I wrinkled my nose, slowly and deliberately securing my waistband, still formulating a suitable response.

My primary aim was to find a more refined way to describe my recent activity, yet the phrase ‘using the restroom’ felt entirely ill-suited to the immediate circumstances.

“Stop drinking, all of you, goddammit! That little brat just peed in it!” Seeing my continued silence, the burly man exploded in a fit of rage, his beard bristling. I had been rather mortified to explain my recent actions, but he had, quite helpfully, saved me the trouble.

Upon hearing his declaration, the remaining three or four men likewise spewed the spring water from their mouths. One after another, they began to bellow from downstream, hurling a barrage of vile epithets—‘little brat,’ ‘bastard,’ and other utterly vulgar insults. I couldn’t help but shake my head. For if my father ever learned he had, however inadvertently, been labeled a ‘rabbit master’ and an ‘old bastard,’ I shuddered to imagine his reaction. Knowing his temper, it would be a true miracle if he spared these young punks, mere undergraduates of Tianwu University.

Yet, my father was a thousand *li* away, while these burly, saber-wielding men were right before me. Realizing that their verbal abuse was utterly fruitless, their leader suddenly stomped his foot, then, leveraging the force, propelled himself skyward. His form soared like a cloud, and with a single somersault, he landed precisely at my upstream position. Without uttering another word, he unleashed a powerful palm strike, hurtling towards me with a resounding whoosh.

“You little brat, what in hell are you shaking your head at? How dare you toy with us like this? You—you’re also a student of Tianwu University? Which department are you in? What year?” Catching sight of the Tianwu University cultural shirt I wore, the burly man questioned suspiciously, yet the momentum of his incoming palm strike remained utterly undiminished, its fierce palm wind still powerfully intimidating.

On one hand, the thought of my public indecency reaching the ears of the university was indeed rather shameful. On the other, I considered how my father had also been cursed by these men today; if this incident were to truly reach the venerable ears of that old man, who was infamous for holding grudges and making others’ lives difficult, I shuddered to imagine how he would ‘process’ these unfortunate senior brothers. For the time being, my only recourse was to feign ignorance.

In a swift glance, I discerned his palm technique as the ‘Double Coiling Palm’—a widely disseminated routine within the Green Forest Academy. My father, having once traversed the *jianghu*, knew a thing or two about it and had subsequently imparted it to me. Thus, anticipating the trajectory of his strike, I shifted my foot with nimble grace, effortlessly sidestepping his thunderous, awe-inspiring blow.

****