Another legendary account often whispered in the martial world is the fateful duel between Sect Master Lin and Fei Xiongman (肥熊蛮), The "Fat Barbarian Bear" the chieftain of the Black Bear Stronghold. One was a man of illustrious splendor, manifesting a dignified bearing in his pristine white robes; the other was a colossal, swarthy figure with narrow, glittering eyes, a square jaw, and protruding teeth, clad in drab brown garments. Such a pair of opposites was a favorite of storytellers, for their images stood in stark and reproachable contrast.
A valiant hero against an ugly scoundrel—the difference in their attire and appearance made for an effortless narrative. Nevertheless, that conflict was born when the Black Bear Chieftain stormed the district tribunal to seize the Magistrate's command seal. This Fei Xiongman was a man of savage strength and supreme martial prowess, wielding a nine-ring broadsword both thick and massive; he was renowned as a peerless bladesman of the era. The local constables were utterly powerless to resist him. Upon learning of this, Sect Master Lin Xiu set out alone to the Black Bear Stronghold to demand the return of the seal.
Though they differed in appearance, both relied on the blade as their weapon; thus, it became a duel to decide the ranking of bladesmen within the martial world. Both possessed extraordinary skills, and they battled relentlessly from the break of dawn until the falling of dusk. Ultimately, the "Sky-Soaring Eagle Blade" proved superior, and Lin Xiu was able to sever the right arm of the Black Bear Chieftain. Lin Xiu emerged victorious, reclaiming the Magistrate's seal and restoring it to the tribunal. This duel significantly enhanced his illustrious reputation as a master bladesman; yet, a hidden truth remains, one that the popular novels of the jianghu failed to recount...
In truth, the reason Chieftain Fei of the Black Bear Stronghold seized the seal was born of the untold hardship suffered by the villagers within his domain. A prolonged drought had devastated their crops, making it impossible for them to deliver the grain taxes demanded by the authorities. Fearing severe punishment, the common folk rose in defiant rebellion. When the authorities planned to dispatch military forces to suppress the masses, Fei Xiongman sought to render them aid. He did not wish for the people to be slaughtered by marauding troops, and so he braved the risk of seizing the command seal, thereby obstructing the official orders for the army to mobilize and exterminate the village.
Lin Xiu learned of these truths only after having severed the arm of that man of the martial world. Upon learning the full circumstances, Lin Xiu's heroic disposition was stirred; on one hand, he returned the command seal to the District Magistrate, and on the other, he parleyed to ensure the Black Bear Stronghold would not be held accountable. Furthermore, he utilized the influential connections of the Sect to lobby high-ranking officials to hush up the matter entirely, even providing sustenance to replace the grain taxes that were to be conscripted from the common folk. Thus, the entire turmoil was pacified.
Fei Xiongman was profoundly moved by such moral virtue, and the two swore an oath of brotherhood. Yet, this sworn brother was not fated for a long life; for a man who had lost an arm, his martial prowess inevitably declined. Before long, he was overthrown and assassinated by his own subordinates, who seized power for themselves. This compelled Lin Xiu to seek vengeance, a turn of events that greatly satisfied the experienced Elders of the Divine Eagle Sect. Under the pretext of upholding justice for a sworn brother, they dispatched a force to slaughter the defiant and annexed the Black Bear Stronghold as a branch of the Divine Eagle Sect, successfully expanding their domain.
There were many more illustrious exploits attributed to Sect Master Lin Xiu. Chen Shuyuan, as his personal attendant, had heard and understood them well; he realized that most were merely embellished for the delight of storytellers, and the naked truth often differed. Nevertheless, Lin Xiu possessed an adventurous spirit and a heart for upholding justice. In his youth, he frequently delegated sect affairs to the Elders while he wandered the world.
Possessing such an unrestrained nature, he had little regard for formal etiquette or official regulations. The prospect of becoming an Imperial official, serving as an instructor for hundreds of thousands of troops, was never in his thoughts. Moreover, should he have accepted an Imperial rank, the sect his father had painstakingly established would surely have perished. Consequently, he declined the official invitation.
The relationship between the Divine Eagle Sect and the authorities remained strained and distant for a time. It was not like the present era, where it is said that the Imperial Court fully recognizes the Sect; indeed, some rival schools even mutter that "the Divine Eagle Sect is backed by the authorities!"
In the distant memory of Chen Shuyuan's childhood, Sect Master Lin Xiu had near-perfectly filled the void left by his vanished father. He revered and doted upon this young leader as if he were his own blood sire, with the sole aspiration of achieving deeds that would make the Master proud. Yet, those were but matters of bygone times.
Chen Shuyuan heaved a deep sigh, reminiscing upon the past while masticating the Hu Bing slowly. Though countless years had passed, the aged Sect Master still vividly recalled the flavor of the pastry he had once stolen. For a destitute wanderer, it was the most exquisite delicacy; he remembered clearly that before his savage beating, he had furtively snatched such morsels three or four times with success.
The Hu Bing from the stall of the man surnamed Li was of a superb quality, its crust crisp and its filling sweetly glutinous. The aroma of kneaded dough and sprinkled sesame, seared in oil atop a scorching iron pan, wafted through the air; when consumed while still warm and fragrant, the essence of wheat and sesame enveloped his palate. It was so succulent that tears nearly stained his cheeks, but more crucially, it served as a lifeline to alleviate the gnawing torment of hunger that plagued his midsection. These memories remained etched deeply in his heart even unto this very hour.
Yet, beyond the savor and the scent, that which the old Sect Master recalled with even greater clarity was not the food, but the facial expressions of men. He remembered the countenance of the burly proprietor, Li San, and that of Aunt Wang Li, the soy milk vendor. However, it was not the fierce and menacing looks they wore on the day he was besieged by the mob as a child. Instead, it was the expressions that manifested many years later, once Chen Shuyuan had ascended to the exalted rank of Vice Sect Master.
In those days, he set aside a brief moment to return to his old haunts, informing no soul of his coming.The countenances etched so precisely in his memory were those of two faces, their eyes bulging from their sockets and tongues protruding, with blood splattered across their features—most especially around the mouth and nostrils, where the gore had surged forth in excessive abundance. Yet, this was not in the least bit strange, for those countenances were no longer attached to their bodies, being merely severed heads!
They were heads and necks sliced clean from their frames, hoisted upon a wooden pole in the middle of the marketplace for the masses to behold!Though several decennia have since passed, it remains a vision that Chen Shuyuan can still vividly recall, not forgetting a single detail even unto this very hour...
The aged Sect Master moved his hand to place another morsel of 'Hu Bing' into his mouth and raised his tea to take a sip, before casting his gaze down upon the common folk gathered below, his heart reflecting upon his own awe-inspiring power and prestige.On this day, he is deemed to have achieved a success that far outshines the two Sect Masters who came before him, having extended his dominion across the entire land of the Song Dynasty to the very edges of the northern border, commanding ten thousand subordinates.
Yet, as this thought crossed his mind, Sect Master Chen recalled that, in truth... regarding the number of men within the Divine Eagle Sect, according to the latest report from his Chief Steward, there were but seven thousand, eight hundred and thirty-four subordinates entered upon the sect's registers.
Yet, when mentioning the number of his followers, the phrase "ten thousand" carries a far more imposing and formidable weight; it is more easily grasped and sounds significantly more impressive to the ear. Thus, he often spoke—and indeed, even thought—that his subordinates numbered "ten thousand," rather than the precise count of seven thousand, eight hundred, and thirty-four currently entered upon the sect's registers.
However, commanding such a multitude is not without its dark reflections. As he looked back upon his hazardous life—stretching from a destitute child loitering in the streets to a lowly attendant, then ascending through various ranks to reach this day—he felt the weight of his journey. To reach the dais where he now sat as Sect Master, throning above all others, he had traversed a road of blood. [30, 1432, 3352, Turn 11] He had eliminated a vast number of souls, enduring untold hardships and facing death itself on countless occasions.
What must a man perpetrate to achieve such greatness? In this world, every object has its owner; to possess, one cannot simply plead with open hands, but must seize by force. The more one amasses, the more one must wrest from the grasp of others.
Thus, with all his treasures, power, and overwhelming prestige, how many souls lay beneath the blade of Sect Master Chen Shuyuan? It is a number he himself does not dare to calculate, yet he remains certain that those who perished all desire for him to repay his blood debt in full. Some were Peerless Masters, others even claimed to be Supreme Experts; in the end, they were all but stepping stones for him to trample upon as he climbed towards his goal.
Yet, there were those of no martial renown who also fell beneath his feet—the burly Li San, Aunt Wang Li, and even the uncle and aunt who had once driven him from his home. Surely, they too harbor a bitter rancor, likely remaining as vengeful ghosts watching him from the secluded shadows, waiting for their moment of retribution.
Li San and Aunt Wang Li, those severed heads that haunt the mind, or the spirits of his uncle and aunt who met such an atrocious demise. Imagine the frame of the aunt, her every bone twisted until the skeleton was a mangled ruin, or the uncle, his chest cleaved open, his heart and viscera unearthed and strewn across the earth. All this was done to discern whether their hearts were truly jet-black within... such horrifying specters they must now be in the Nether World.
The aunt's shrieks of agonizing torment intermingled with the rhythmic crack of her bones being snapped slowly, one by one. To shatter every bone in a body without granting the mercy of death is a task of extraordinary difficulty. Yet Chen Shuyuan, a master of martial prowess, possessed a bizarre claw technique and a profound knowledge of the human frame—its bones, sinews, and joints. However, before he could break the 120th bone, she snatched an early death, leaving the uncle—bound hand and foot and gagged against a pillar—to emit only muffled groans.
The uncle's garments were fouled with an excessive abundance of excrement; a wretched and baseness of stench. Yet at that moment, Chen Shuyuan believed the man's heart must reek even more of foul rot, perhaps being jet-black to its core.
With his blade, Chen Shuyuan made a slow incision, slicing from the lower abdomen to the chest. Gore, coils of intestines, and internal organs surged forth, piling upon the ground. But when he plucked out the heart to examine it... it bore only a fishy stench of blood, not yet rotted, and it was far from jet-black.
Chen Shuyuan pondered: if his heart was not yet black with rot, why did the uncle dare drive a destitute, parentless child from his home all those years ago? Do Li San, the hag Wang Li, and his kin now dwell as vengeful ghosts, awaiting the hour to exact their retribution? And what of the other souls who perished by his hand—do they also hover in the shadows, seeking to harass and harm him?
Furthermore... how many among the living still thirst to settle the score for their fathers, brothers, or loved ones who met their end beneath his blade?
How many more foes remained, harboring a bitter rancor in their hearts, waiting for the hour to strike him down?
He was certain that there were multitudes who sought to do him harm, thirsting to attain renown by replacing him, or plotting to wrest away the power he had so painstakingly won through blood and strife.
Foes beset him from all directions, some lurking in the secluded shadows and others manifesting their enmity openly. Even among the ten thousand subordinates who bowed beneath his awe-inspiring prestige... truly, in whom could he place his trust?
These were the questions that the aged Sect Master pondered in silence. On certain nights, he remained lost in thought until the break of day, unable to close his eyes to sleep for even a brief moment.
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