Chapter One: The Yellow Flowers Have Faded Away, Thirty Years

  The afterglow of sunset slowly slides down the mountain, far away the vast mountains stand tall and unchanged for thousands of years. The shadows at dusk, however, change daily, casting themselves over Fengyuan Town.

  Although the sky was no longer early, the sun on the horizon was slowly setting, and it was almost time to light the lanterns. The streets of this small town were still bustling with people coming and going. On both sides of the street, there were vendors selling trinkets, snacks, paintings, and performing acrobatics, as well as fortune tellers and diviners. Many people crowded around these small stalls, creating a lively scene.

  It's even more so on the main street, let alone at Yunlai Inn, the largest inn in town.

  Fengyuan Town is located between Dali City in the south and Cangshan Mountain in the west. Since ancient times, there has been an official road connecting Dali to Cangshan Mountain, with people coming and going all year round, making it a bustling place where one can leave in the morning and return in the evening. However, if tourists or merchants come down from Cangshan Mountain late at night, or if they have heavy goods and cannot return to Dali on the same day, Fengyuan Town and Yunlai Inn are their top choices for overnight accommodation, making the town a lively place all year round.

  The Yunlai Inn, on the other hand, is a decades-old establishment in Fengyuan Town, having risen and fallen with the town itself. The front half of the inn is a two-story tavern, with two wooden pillars at the entrance that require two people to wrap their arms around them. On top of the pillars are pasted a pair of red paper couplets with golden characters, reading "Four corners all guests like clouds coming" on the left and "Five lakes have guests arriving like returning home" on the right. The calligraphy is a replica of a genuine Tang Dynasty piece by the most famous calligrapher in the world, Wang Gongzi, with bold and powerful strokes, and the surface is gilded, making it look very majestic.

  Behind the wine building, there is a two-story guest house and a very large backyard, forming a four-in-one layout. At this time, the inn was already brightly lit with lanterns in front and back, and now it was truly like a cloud of guests coming. The first floor of the wine building was bustling with customers, and all that could be heard were loud noises, but most of the customers were local residents and small merchants who had come and gone many times and knew each other well. Suddenly, there were bursts of laughter, noise, clinking glasses, and toasts, and the sound of drinking games filled the air.

  It's rare to hear the sound of the abacus in the shopkeeper's hand and the loud voice of the shop assistant calling out to customers, as well as the accurate reporting of dishes and menu names amidst the hustle and bustle. From this alone, it can be seen that the atmosphere of the inn is a truly harmonious scene.

  The people sitting upstairs are mostly wealthy families in the town, young masters, or tourists from afar who come to Dali and Cangshan Mountain. Although there are many people, they are accompanied by a few close friends, chatting and laughing softly, drinking wine and having a good time, so it's not too noisy.

  It was in the 30th year of Hongwu during the great Ming dynasty, in August, when the world had been at peace for a long time.

  But someone was heard humming softly:

  "The moon over the Jiangnan region, a clear night fills the western tower."

  Clouds fall open when ice spits mirror, wave flowers deep place jade sink hook.

  When will the moon be full again?

  The Milky Way is vast, with autumn dew entering the new season.

  The cassia tree does not know the sorrow of its falling leaves, Chang'e should believe in the sadness of parting.

  "The sky is vast and infinite."

  This poem has been passed down from the Song Dynasty, the waxing and waning of the moon is endless, just like the joys and sorrows of human life are unpredictable. It writes about the deep and painful longing for separation, the sorrow and joy of parting and reunion in human life, with a profound charm, which is what people call the bitterness of parting. Although it's not as famous as Su Shi's "When will the moon be bright", it has also been widely spread among later generations. Therefore, when people recite this poem, they often sigh about the helplessness of time passing by, lamenting the cruelty of the world, and now that the Mid-Autumn Festival is approaching, many travelers cannot return home, the sadness in their hearts far surpasses what they normally feel when reciting poetry.

  The old man who is reciting this poem is sitting by the window on the second floor of the Yunlai Inn.

  The old man wore a simple gray long gown, but it was exceptionally clean and well-tailored. His temples were flecked with white hair, which outnumbered the black hairs, and his three strands of beard were also predominantly white. He had a straight nose and high cheekbones, looking rather gaunt yet dignified, and one could still glimpse the extraordinary elegance he must have possessed in his youth.

  His face now has a somewhat worn and weary look, with a hint of frosty chill. His eyes are dimly shining with a faint white mist, and he is softly sighing, as if lost in thought. He then casually recites this poem. After finishing the recitation, he lets out another long sigh: "Alas!"

  An old man sat facing a young boy, who was obviously his junior, on the side of the table. Both of them looked at the old man with a desolate tone, and couldn't help but absent-mindedly watch the bustle outside the window and the laughter of the crowd upstairs, their expressions gloomy, as if they had thought of something, and their eyes became moist.

  The shopkeeper was just upstairs pouring tea and was familiar with the old man who had been staying at the Yunlai Inn for four days, along with two young men.

  Although he didn't know the old man's name, he knew that the young man sitting opposite the old man, who was about twenty years old and had a refined appearance, was named Luo Zhihan, and the burly big man sitting on the side was called Chen Xin, both of whom were the old man's disciples.

  Three people seemed to have come from the east, traveling around the world. Every morning they would leave the inn on horseback with great enthusiasm, as if searching for something, visiting various places, and return in the evening looking dispirited, not saying a word, ordering a table of wine and dishes at the tavern but hardly touching their chopsticks, and this went on for several days.

  The young shopkeeper had been puzzled for several days and thought: "These three people are really strange!"

  Now he heard infinite sorrow in the old man's voice, and saw that the dishes on the table were still the same as they had been for several days, basically untouched. Although he didn't understand the meaning of the old man's poem, the sadness was very clear.

  He stepped forward, pouring tea while speaking to the kindly-looking Luo Zhihan: "Sir, in this life, who doesn't have to run around outside? Please advise your master to take good care of his body. On the day he returns home, he can return safely and peacefully. These small dishes are our store's specialty, please make sure to taste them carefully."

  At this time, the table was set with "chicken meat cold rice noodles", "stir-fried flapping cakes" and other snacks, which were famous for their unique flavor in Yunnan Province. The color, fragrance and taste were all perfect. Although other places also had similar dishes made from the same materials, even with the same craftsmanship and seasonings, they did not have the unique deliciousness of Dianxi. This was also one of the reasons why "Yunlai Inn" was famous for its snacks for decades. About half of the repeat customers came to "Yunlai Inn" frequently because of these delicious foods.

  The old man and the three apprentices faced such a delicious meal but had no heart to taste it, so the shopkeeper saw that today's wine and dishes on the table were still untouched, and came out to advise them.

  That young man, Luo Zhihan came back to his senses from his thoughts and said: "Thank you, little brother, we can take care of ourselves." The shopkeeper poured the tea water, looked at the three people, sighed, and went downstairs.

  "Newborn, Haner, from the age of 16, Master has taken you on a journey across the land, year after year. It's been four years now, and you haven't returned to Nanhai yet. You two must be tired!" The old man suddenly raised his head and asked his two disciples slowly.

  "Our master is for the good of our South Sea Sword Sect, we all know that. So this bit of hardship we're not afraid of." The eldest disciple Chen Xin is 27 years old this year, with a sturdy build and thick eyebrows and big eyes, his personality is quite straightforward. He has followed Master for nearly ten years drifting in the Jianghu, long ago understanding the ups and downs of life and what's on Master's mind. Now hearing Master ask this question, he looked at his younger brother before answering, "It's actually you, Master, who have suffered for decades..."

  Luozhi Han and his fellow disciple shared the same thoughts, but seeing their master busy year after year without any results, becoming haggard so quickly, having just passed fifty years old, with two temples already white, a face full of wind and frost color, truly exhausted mentally and physically, in his heart he let out a sigh, unable to speak.

  Although they themselves and their senior fellow disciple did not entirely know what the master was looking for, the master had never explicitly stated it either. However, in his heart, he had never harbored any resentment. He only thought of how the master had been drifting in the jianghu for nearly thirty years yet still hadn't found the person and thing their sect's founder wanted, seemingly unable to obtain even a single faint clue, and his heart felt extremely desolate.

  Three people from Nanhai Jianpai have come to Zhongyuan with a bitter and sour expression, for thirty whole years, it must be a helpless move!

  "It's probably fate, a life of nothingness, an old man's destiny is like this, should be desolate!" The old man seeing his two disciples so understanding and considerate of him, felt comforted in his heart, but even more sighed at the ruthlessness of the world!

  "Master's lifelong pursuit, the sincerity of his heart, can be reflected in the sun and moon, heaven will not disappoint those who are kind-hearted!" Luo Zhihan heard the master's tone was so desolate, and immediately responded.

  "Alas, I hope so!" The old man furrowed his brow and sighed, "Tomorrow, we'll go to Mount Diancang, and ask the Diancang Sect for news. The Diancang Sect is one of the seven major sects in Jianghu, a renowned and respected school with many talented individuals, always revered by others." After finishing speaking, the old man let out another sigh, slowly sipping his clear tea.

  The old man muttered a few more words behind him, seemingly to his two apprentices, but also like he was talking to himself: "As a master, I've been fortunate enough to know several friends, and the Qingcheng Sect and other famous orthodox sects in the Central Plains have had deep exchanges. The sources of information are also very wide, hoping to find some clues, alas, it's almost thirty years now! Time really flies!"

  Diancang Mountain has been famous for its ten scenic spots in the south of China for thousands of years. The first of the ten scenic spots, "Erhai Moon Reflects Diancang Snow, Wind Blows Flowers at Upper Pass", is particularly renowned throughout the land. However, over the past hundred or so years, its reputation has spread even further and shaken the world, due to the presence on the mountain of the orthodox Wulin, the great school of Diancangpai.

  Luo Zhihan asked: "Master, in the Jianghu especially Tian Nan Yidai, as soon as the name of Diancang Sect is mentioned, it's a household name, but is it truly deserving of its reputation?"

  The old man nodded and said, "The Dongcang Sect has had many masters throughout the ages. The masters of the sect are not only skilled in swordsmanship, but also deeply understand the Taoist teachings, clearly comprehend the principles of yin and yang, and know the logic of change. Many have also delved into the mysterious and subtle ways of the universe. Among them, the current master of the sect, the renowned 'Three Sons of Dongcang', are even more exceptional!"

  "Is there a disciple with such qualifications as my junior brother?" Chen Xin asked again.

  The old man smiled bitterly: "Thirty years ago, the first master of Zheng Dao, Wu Shan Shen Nv, predicted that each sect would have a disciple who appears only once in a hundred years! Dian Cang Sect naturally has disciples far surpassing you two!"

  He was also slightly proficient in astrology and sighed, "These days I have been divining, but I found that apart from the top ten disciples of the Diancang Sect, there is actually another small star hidden under the night sky. Once it emerges, the entire martial arts world will change for him!"