PART 1: THE CITY OF EVERGREEN PEAKS 🏯✨
In the eastern reaches of the Jianghu continent, where mist-cloaked mountains slope down to fertile river valleys, stood the great city of Qingcui Cheng – the "City of Evergreen Peaks." Towering walls of grey stone wrapped around districts layered like terraced fields: the noble quarter perched on the highest hill, merchant guildhalls filling the mid-level avenues, and the bustling common markets spilling into the river basin below 🏙️💦.
Beyond the city's outer gates stretched the territory of the Lin Clan – keepers of the ancient Pine Stream Sect, whose white-robed disciples had guarded Qingcui Cheng's peace for seven generations 👘⚪. Their compound, built into the side of Mount Hancheng, was a maze of wooden pavilions, training courtyards, and quiet meditation gardens where pine trees grew tall and straight, their needles never losing their green even in the harshest winters 🌲❄️.
Here, in the year of the Golden Crane, a baby girl with eyes as dark as river stones was born to Lin Zhenwei – the clan's 13th leader – and his wife Su Yanmei. They named her Xueyan – "Snow Goose" – for the way she seemed to bring quiet grace wherever she went 🦢💫.
PART 2: THE PINE STREAM WAY 🥋📚
From the moment she could walk, Xueyan's life was woven into the fabric of the clan's martial tradition 🧵⚫. Before sunrise, she'd follow her father to the main training courtyard, where she'd watch disciples practice forms under the pale morning sky 🌅🥋. By age four, she was already learning the basics of the Pine Stream Stance – feet planted like roots, spine straight as a trunk, breath steady as mountain wind 🌬️🦶.
"Strength isn't about how loud you strike," her father would say, adjusting her small hands as she held a practice sword made of bamboo 🎋⚔️. "A pine tree doesn't shout to prove it can stand against storms. It simply stands – and bends only enough to not break."
Her mother, a healer who knew every herb that grew on the mountain, taught her another kind of wisdom 🧑⚕️🌿. "Every fighter has weaknesses, Xueyan – in their body, in their mind, in their heart. To see them, you must learn to be quiet and watchful 🤫👀. Like water in a still pond, you must reflect what's around you without rippling the surface."
The Lin Clan wasn't just a martial sect – it was a family. Elder Uncle Lin Guang would tell her stories of great duels over cups of warm pine-needle tea 🍵🗣️. Cousin Lin Chen, two years older than her, would race her through the meditation gardens, their laughter echoing between the pavilions 😂🌸. Even the youngest disciples treated her like a little sister, sharing steamed buns and teaching her secret shortcuts through the mountain paths 🥟🗻.
Life in the compound was simple but full. Every month, the clan would host a gathering in Qingcui Cheng's central square, where disciples demonstrated their skills and the elders mediated disputes between townsfolk 🤝🎉. The Lin name was respected across three provinces – not for conquering rivals, but for upholding justice and protecting those who couldn't protect themselves 🛡️❤️.
PART 3: THE SCENT OF BETRAYAL 🌹⚫
When Xueyan was twelve, the winds of the Jianghu began to shift 🌪️🔄.
Rumors reached Mount Hancheng of a new alliance forming – the Iron Coin Merchant Guild from the southern city of Tiebi Zhen ("Iron Wall Town") had joined forces with the aggressive Blood Blade Sect from the western badlands 💰⚔️. Together, they were moving to take control of the trade routes that connected east and west, using force and bribes to bend city-states to their will 🚢💎.
Lin Zhenwei refused to bow to their demands. "The Jianghu belongs to all who live in it," he declared at a gathering of eastern sect leaders in the coastal city of Haiyan Gang ("Seasalt Harbor") 🌊🤜. "We cannot let greed and violence decide who holds power."
For a time, it seemed reason would prevail. The other eastern sects stood with the Lin Clan, and the Iron Coin Guild appeared to back down 🤝🤲. Xueyan's father would return home with tired eyes but a steady smile, telling her that honor was still stronger than gold in the Jianghu ✨🪙.
But darkness was already creeping into their midst 🕷️🌑.
On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival – when the moon was round and bright over Qingcui Cheng 🥮🌕 – Xueyan was woken by the sound of shouting and clashing steel 💥🔊. She'd been sleeping in her mother's room, tucked under a quilt embroidered with cranes and clouds ☁️🦩. Her mother pulled her close, pressing a small wooden box into her hands.
"Take this," Su Yanmei whispered, her voice steady even as the sound of fighting grew closer 📦🤫. "It holds the heart of our clan's art. Hide it – and hide yourself. Don't let them find you."
Before Xueyan could ask what was happening, Elder Uncle Lin Guang burst into the room, his white robes stained with blood ❤️💀.
"Brother's orders – get her out of here!" he roared, scooping Xueyan into his arms. "They've betrayed us – the city guard, even some of our own disciples took gold from the Iron Coin Guild!"
As they ran through the dark corridors of the compound, Xueyan saw fires burning in every direction 🔥🔴. The pine trees she'd climbed as a child were now torches lighting the way for invaders in red and black robes – the colors of the Blood Blade Sect 🟥⚫. She saw Cousin Chen fighting off three attackers with a broken sword, his young face set with the same determination their father had taught them 😤⚔️. She saw her father standing in the main courtyard, surrounded by enemies, his Pine Stream Fist moving like water and stone as he held them back alone 💪💦.
"Run, Xueyan!" her father shouted, catching sight of her as Elder Uncle carried her toward a hidden path 🏃♀️🗣️. "Live – and remember what we've taught you!"
That was the last time she saw him 📸💔.
Elder Uncle carried her down the mountain through secret trails only the oldest Lin disciples knew. They reached the river valley as dawn broke, but their pursuers were close behind 🐾🌅. At a wooden bridge over the rushing Han River, he set her down and drew his sword – the real one, not bamboo 🗡️💧.
"Keep going," he said, his voice rough with pain from wounds she hadn't noticed before 🩹🗣️. "Head north to Mancheng – the 'Hidden City' in the bamboo forests. Find Master Wei at the 'Iron Teahouse' – tell him you're the daughter of Lin Zhenwei. He'll protect you."
Before she could protest, he pushed her across the bridge and turned to face their attackers 🔄🛡️. Xueyan ran, tears streaming down her face, not daring to look back until the sound of fighting faded into the distance 🚶♀️😭.
PART 4: THE LONG ROAD NORTH 🛤️🌾
For three months, Xueyan traveled alone through the Jianghu 🌄🥾. She learned to sleep in hollow trees and eat wild berries and river fish 🪵🍓. She kept the wooden box hidden inside her robes, never letting it out of her sight 📦👗. When she encountered bandits on the lawless Gray Road that cut through the western hills, she used what her father had taught her – staying quiet, moving carefully, and using their own carelessness against them 🦹♂️⚠️.
Once, a group of wandering fighters tried to take her bag. She didn't draw a weapon – instead, she stepped aside at just the right moment, letting their leader trip over his own feet and fall into a muddy ditch 😆💩. When they demanded to know who'd taught her such tricks, she simply said she'd learned from watching farmers in her village 🧑🌾🤷♀️.
She reached Mancheng as winter was setting in ❄️🏮. The Hidden City lived up to its name – built among endless bamboo groves, its streets winding between tall stalks that blocked out the sun 🎋🏘️. Signs were written in code only locals could read, and strangers were watched closely by merchants and guards alike 🔐👀.
Following Elder Uncle's directions, she found the Iron Teahouse tucked away on a quiet side street – a two-story building with a weathered sign depicting a teapot and a sword crossed behind it 🍵⚔️. Inside, it was warm and smoky, with wooden tables filled with travelers, merchants, and the occasional fighter in plain clothes 🪑🔥.
Behind the counter stood a woman with sharp eyes and gray streaks in her black hair – Master Wei, though Xueyan had expected a man 🧑🍳👩. When she approached and whispered Elder Uncle's message, the woman's eyes narrowed for a moment before softening 🤨❤️.
"Follow me," she said, leading Xueyan up a narrow staircase to a small room above the teahouse 🪜🔝. There, she poured a cup of strong tea and listened in silence as Xueyan told her everything – about the attack, about her father and mother, about the wooden box 🗣️🍵.
When she finished, Master Wei set down her cup with a soft clink.
"I was your father's friend once," she said quietly 🤝💬. "He saved my life when the Blood Blade Sect tried to take over my old village. I owe him more than I can ever repay."
She opened the wooden box Xueyan had carried so carefully. Inside lay a rolled scroll and a small jade pendant carved like a pine tree 📜🟢.
"The Pine Stream Fist," Master Wei murmured, unrolling the scroll 🥋📖. "Your father always said this style could be changed – adapted to fit the times. Looks like it's up to you to finish what he started."
She looked at Xueyan, her gaze steady and kind.
"You can stay here – work as a helper in the teahouse. No one will look twice at a girl who serves tea and cleans tables 🧹🍶. But you must promise me two things. First – you will never reveal your true name or your clan's heritage. The Iron Coin Guild and Blood Blade Sect still hunt for any Lin survivors 🕵️♂️⚫. Second – you will keep training. Your father didn't want you to live just to hide. He wanted you to live so you could carry on what the Lin Clan stood for."
Xueyan looked out the window at the bamboo groves swaying in the wind 🎋🌬️. She thought of her father's words about pine trees, her mother's lessons about water, and Elder Uncle's final stand on the bridge 🧠💭.
She set down her empty cup and nodded 🫡🙏.
"Tea first," she said quietly. "Training second. But I won't forget who I am – or what they took from us."
Master Wei smiled for the first time, a small, sharp curve of her lips 😊⚔️.
"Good," she said. "Now – let's get you some proper clothes. And we'll start with the basics – carrying water and washing dishes builds a strong core, just like your father taught you 💪💧."
As Xueyan followed her back downstairs to the busy teahouse, the morning sun broke through the bamboo leaves, casting long shadows across the floor 🌞🌿. Outside, somewhere in the vast Jianghu, forces were moving that would one day pull her back into the world she'd fled 🌍⚡. But for now – for the next six years – she would be just another teahouse helper named Xueyan, learning to move like water and stand like a pine, waiting for the day when she was ready to face the past that haunted her 🕰️🤫.
END OF CHAPTER 1 📖🔚.