Chapter 22  

Commander Mu sat in the front row, dressed in military uniform, with slightly graying temples. His tone was even gentle, yet he possessed an undeniable military bearing. He didn't resemble the old scoundrel Mu Gesheng described, but rather a scholarly general.

Mu Gesheng grew up in the military camp until he was ten years old, then entered the Ginkgo Academy. After that, father and son rarely saw each other. Commander Mu did not guard the city; he led his troops out all year round, and communication between father and son was scarce. Mu Gesheng studied abroad for four years, and aside from an initial letter detailing his academic arrangements, there was no news for the entire four years.

Sometimes Mu Gesheng would even forget he had a father. Commander Mu had always let him fend for himself, only arranging for his schooling but providing no tuition or living expenses. Instead, a group of his brothers would send him subsidies every few days. Before returning, he had sent a letter home, but Commander Mu rarely came home more than a few times a year, so he figured it probably wouldn't be received. Now, meeting him so suddenly, he felt an unexpected shyness, like a traveler nearing home.

"There are many things I don't inquire about, and your words won't make a difference," Commander Mu said, pulling out a cigarette. "I'm heading south soon and originally didn't have time to see you, but since we've met, I'll ask you a few questions."

Mu Gesheng offered him a match and lit his cigarette. "Please, go ahead."  

"Are you aware of the current situation?"  

"Yes."  

"Do you have any plans for your return to the country?"  

"Yes."  

"Since you were ten, I haven't really disciplined you much. We've spent little time together over the years. Though you haven't amounted to much, you've picked up a variety of skills, enough to at least make a living." Commander Mu said indifferently, "Now, with smoke and fire everywhere and the edifice on the verge of collapse, why have you returned to wade into these troubled waters?"

Mu Gesheng laughed, "Father, my surname is Mu."  

"Far from enough."  

"Loyal bones are buried everywhere in the green mountains..."  

"Don't give me that academic nonsense. Think clearly before you speak. If you keep spouting rubbish, you can get out of this car right now, buy a boat ticket back to Europe, and go back to your studies."

Mu Gesheng's smile faded. After a moment of silence, he spoke a passage, neither too softly nor too loudly.

He spoke in fluent English, and his words seemed a bit too formal for a father and son. However, Commander Mu listened intently. He extinguished his cigarette and said flatly, "Continue."

He recognized what his son was talking about—the Thames Times' report on the war a few days prior.

Mu Gesheng slowly unfolded the situation in his narration, his tone deliberate and the content vast. International disputes, domestic affairs, battlefield conditions, the lives of the common people... Gone was his usual animated demeanor; instead, he meticulously laid out each detail, clearly having thought it through and refined it repeatedly to achieve such careful consideration.

A few words stripped away all the clamor, revealing a section of a dark green spine from within the flesh, like strong liquor shattering a cold night, both chilling and scalding. Silence, silence, silence. The night ignited a fire in the silence, and from there came the sound of drums—from the young man's chest.

When he finished speaking, Mu Gesheng smiled, a smile difficult to describe. It contained the readiness to face life and death with generosity, and a hint of unspoken understanding between father and son. In chaotic times, the bond within a military family wasn't about filial piety, but rather two renowned blades, mutually licking blood.

"Even without muscles of iron and bones of steel, I wish to bow my head, fortunate enough to be a backbone."  

Father and son exchanged glances in the rearview mirror. Commander Mu tossed him a cigarette. "Looks like you came prepared."

"Otherwise, I wouldn't dare to show off in front of you." Mu Gesheng struck a match. "Commander, do you think I, this soldier, am useful?"

Commander Mu grunted, "I'll give you a passing grade."  

With the cards on the table, the old man didn't beat around the bush with his son. He went straight to the point: "The situation is deadlocked, and a major war is about to break out. I'm heading south soon, but I won't be taking you this time. Instead, I need you to handle something else for me."

"Your orders."  

Commander Mu rolled down the car window and pointed into the distance, "Guard this city well for me."

Mu Gesheng followed his father's gaze. In the distance, the city gate stood majestic, with myriad lights twinkling—a prosperity forged by a thousand years of trials.

"This is a strategic stronghold, and also the gateway to the inland heartland. Should it fall, what awaits us is a thousand li of devastation and a nation shattered across ten thousand li," Commander Mu said. "Although the outcome of the war is still unpredictable, should the worst happen, we must fight for every inch of land."

"You've been with me in the barracks since you were three, traveling all over the country. Guarding a city shouldn't be difficult for you." Commander Mu turned around and smiled at Mu Gesheng: "Don't disgrace me."

Mu Gesheng saluted, "Don't worry, Commander."  

"Don't call me Commander, call me Dad." Commander Mu patted his shoulder, "I've been traveling a lot in recent years and haven't had much time to look after you, but thankfully you don't need much worrying. This mansion in the city has been built for many years, but I haven't properly lived in it for more than a few days. When I return this time, Dad will arrange a marriage for you, and the mansion will be given to you as a wedding home. In the future, with a son or daughter, it will be much livelier."

"Isn't there a saying, 'Until the great enemy is vanquished, there is no home'?" Mu Gesheng scratched his head and said, "Instead of worrying about me, why don't you find yourself a new wife? You've married off all four of your own chiefs of staff, so why are you still alone in an empty room?"

"If you keep spouting nonsense, I'll marry you off to the tofu seller on the east side of town." Commander Mu kicked him out of the car. "Let's go."

"You take care, sir. Actually, I think the wonton seller on the east side is better; his family's fillings are generous and plentiful."

"Wait until your old man gets back," Commander Mu waved his hand. "I'll get you a hundred pounds of pork as a dowry."

The car sped away, and a horn blared in the distance.  

Mu Gesheng stood rooted to the spot for a moment, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. He decided to head to the east of the city for wontons. The old street vendor's stall was still there, with a large clay pot simmering on the stove, a long bamboo-handled betel nut spoon, and blue-rimmed porcelain bowls. The freshly cooked wontons had thin skins and generous fillings, topped with a spoonful of sesame chili oil. Mu Gesheng ate two bowls in a row, feeling an immediate wave of drowsiness. He stumbled back to the Mu residence in a daze and collapsed into bed.

The next day, Mu Gesheng woke up early. After washing up, he headed straight for the military camp on the outskirts of the city. The officer in charge was a former subordinate of Commander Mu, who had watched Mu Gesheng grow up since childhood. Their greeting was a playful exchange of punches. "So, the kid's here? What skills have you learned from the foreigners these past few years? Let's have a couple of rounds first! If you win, then you can come in!"

"No problem!" Mu Gesheng had anticipated this. He rolled up his sleeves and said, "You're too kind!"

Song Wentong kicked open the gates of the Mu residence early in the morning, only to find that Mu Gesheng had left even earlier. The Mu residence had been empty for years, with only a few old women responsible for cleaning, all of whom claimed to know nothing. Song Wentong, having been stood up last night, was seething with anger. He scoured the entire city, then made a trip to Baishui Temple, but found no one. Finally, as he passed Guanshanyue, Aunt Zhao called out to him, "Xiao Tong'er, I heard you've been busy all morning, what are you up to?"

"Find Fourth Brother!"  

"Didn't he go to the military camp in the suburbs early this morning?" Aunt Zhao looked puzzled. "They say the fight was quite lively, with a crowd gathered to watch!"

"?!" Song Wentong took off running.  

When he rushed to the city's outskirts, he saw a crowd gathered around the military camp entrance from afar. Mu Gesheng stood in the center of the crowd, having just knocked down a burly man. "Forty-ninth! Next!"

Song Wentong walked into the crowd, "What's going on here?"  

"Young Master Mu is joining the army, and the old masters are lining up to challenge him one-on-one!" A bystander cheered loudly, saying, "He's knocked down dozens this morning, fighting a crowd alone—it's more exciting than a play on stage!"

Song Wentong raised an eyebrow and stopped pushing into the crowd. He stood aside with his arms crossed, watching Mu Gesheng fight alone.

The young man in the crowd, dressed in a military uniform with his shirt sleeves rolled up, stood tall and straight as a sword in the sunlight. He laughed and ran a hand through his dripping wet hair, "Come on! Next!"

Song Wentong clearly saw how Mu Gesheng had just kicked over a strong man. This was his most frequently used move; when exerting force, he would even leap into the air, yet still be able to change his moves mid-air, strong and fierce. Song Wentong remembered their first meeting at the Ginkgo Bookstore. At that time, Mu Gesheng had just come out of the military camp, his arm still in a sling, a hint of roguishness in his sharp demeanor. He was chewing on a foxtail grass and asked him, "Your saber looks good, wanna fight?"

Later, this man became a lazy lump at the Ginkgo Bookstore, indulging in lavish pleasures, cockfighting, and dog racing. He preferred to use his words rather than his fists, shedding his bandit-like aura and becoming a graceful, charming young man.

But Song Wentong always remembered their first fight. At first, it was just a playful probing, but by the end, neither of them held back, fiercely competing like two wild dogs. Logically, Song Wentong had a greater chance of winning, but the other man gritted his teeth and looked at him, his eyes bright and fierce, with undisguised excitement, leaving the outcome perpetually undecided.

In the end, they were both carried back. That night, Song Wentong stole some wine from the kitchen, intending to find that guy for a drink, but on the corridor, he bumped into Mu Gesheng, who had also stolen wine and was looking for him.

"Fifty-six! Next!"  

Mu Gesheng's voice pulled Song Wentong's thoughts back. He looked at the young man in the sunlight, who seemed like a white eagle spreading its wings, his eyes as clear as ever.

Song Wentong suddenly laughed, turned and went back into the city. When he returned, he had two more things in his hands: a knife and a jar of wine.

He stuck the Scarlet Licker knife into his back, popped open the seal, and watched Mu Gesheng beat people while drinking. "Seventy-eight!" "Seventy-nine!" Mu Gesheng unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside. "Keep going, let's make it a round number today!"

"Eighty-seventh!"  

"Eighty-eighth!"  

...  

"Ninety-ninth!"  

Song Wentong finished his wine, then smashed the jar, startling everyone around him who turned to look. He walked into the crowd and drew his sword at Mu Gesheng, "The hundredth."

Song Wentong's skill was well-known, and Mu Gesheng was greatly depleted, already at the end of his tether. The observing officers' faces changed, and they were about to step forward to intervene, but Mu Gesheng waved his hand, saying, "It's fine." Then he beckoned to Song Wentong with a finger, "Come."

Song Wentong drew his sword with a backhand motion, the blade still sheathed. He lowered his stance, and in an instant, his eyes changed.

Four years later, Mu Gesheng once again saw the Blood-Licking Blade. The ancient blade's edge was still as sharp, stunningly fierce and violent.

The first move of the blade, and he smiled—because that year, too, it was a bright, sunny summer afternoon, and a tall, handsome youth under a tree had swung a blade at him, its edge stunning, whistling through the air. "If you can withstand three moves, I'll tell you the name of this blade."

"And if I win?"  

"Impossible."  

"How can you know it's impossible without trying?"  

..  

"We've been playing all afternoon, haven't we? I don't think I'm without a chance of winning. Tell me, if I win, what then?"

“If you defeat me, I will grant you one wish.”  

..  

Mu Gesheng snapped out of his thoughts, sidestepping the first gust of wind from the approaching blade. Simultaneously, he rolled on the ground. Song Wentong's blade was incredibly fast; no one could clearly see the full extent of his moves. The moment the first flash of light was caught, it was actually the end of his second move. Avoiding a two-stage attack was extremely difficult, but Mu Gesheng, back then, managed it with ease, using a shamelessly crude military tactic: don't stand there, just roll and crawl on the ground, as far as you can.

Song Wentong hailed from the Mohist school, with supplementary studies from Penglai, his martial arts both orthodox and refined. It was the first time he had witnessed such a crude and thuggish move, and he was truly shocked. Later, he realized that Mu Gesheng himself was just like that: he was both dashing and shameless, both a brilliant strategist and an unlearned rogue. He could affectionately sing ditties for the ladies at Guanshanyue, and he could also selflessly stand by his friends. Now, in military uniform, his fighting style was still as brazenly unconventional as it was back then, yet it was also remarkably unique.

The two exchanged blows, each move a familiar one from their past brawls, perfectly recreating the scene of their first encounter. However, they knew each other too well; before one move could grow old, it had already changed. They had drawn back then, and now, fighting again, with even greater speed, Mu Gesheng was undoubtedly at a disadvantage.

The ginkgo leaves had turned yellow several times, yet the events of that year were remembered as if they happened yesterday.  

Song Wentong spun around, his long saber arcing in a half-circle. "Your skills haven't improved much."

"That's not necessarily true." Mu Gesheng leaped into the air. "I'm empty-handed. If I had a weapon, one move would decide the victor."

"Poor skills, big talk." Song Wentong clicked his tongue. "The battle has begun. If you can avoid my saber, feel free to grab any weapon you want."

"How can that be? That's how we fought back then. If I took something, it wouldn't be the same."

"It should be different." The two passed each other, and as they brushed shoulders, Song Wentong's voice rang out: "Things are not as they once were."

Mu Gesheng was startled, then laughed: "Good! Things are not as they once were, not as they were back then!" He then called out loudly: "Come on, second brother, one move decides the winner!"

"No need to hold back!"  

At the critical moment, Song Wentong struck with a flat cut, cleaving a strange and sharp arc through the air. A faint red shimmer appeared within the blade's light, and even the onlookers in the distance were forced to retreat by the blade's aura. He put all his strength into this strike; although the Licking Red Blade was not unsheathed, it was enough to injure.

Mu Gesheng couldn't dodge in time and was knocked over by a single blow, falling to the ground and rolling quite a distance. His body twitched twice, and he didn't get back up.

Song Wentong wasn't too worried about the other party getting hurt; he knew the power of his own blade. It was just that Mu Gesheng wasn't entirely unable to avoid this move; he probably had expended too much energy and reacted too slowly. He walked over with his blade, "If you can still stand up, then continue."

The next second, Mu Gesheng suddenly lifted his leg and hooked it, pulling Song Wentong to the ground. Then, a gun was pressed against his forehead.

"You lost." Behind the muzzle was Mu Gesheng's smiling face.  

Song Wentong kicked the man aside, "That's an unfair victory."  

"All's fair in war, and you said it was allowed." Mu Gesheng laughed heartily, then collapsed onto the ground, "I'm exhausted. Would you mind giving me a hand and dragging me in?"

Song Wentong didn't stand on ceremony. Since it was all sandy ground around them anyway, he grabbed Mu Gesheng's foot and dragged him directly into the military camp.

The entire camp had been built by Commander Mu many years ago. There were several small buildings next to the training ground. Mu Gesheng first went to take a shower, then came out in a military uniform. "Second Brother, why are you at the military camp? No business at noon?"

"So you still remember the Zhu Hua of Yèshui." Song Wentong snorted, "Last night, there was a two-story banquet laid out for you, and you didn't show up even by midnight."

Mu Gesheng was startled, thinking, "Oh no, I'm screwed." He had actually forgotten about this, having finally seen his father last night.

"Uh, about that." Mu Gesheng knew he was in the wrong and chuckled, "How about I pay, and in a few days, you bring all the chefs and their gear to the military camp for a meal? It'll be a treat for the brothers." This man was usually as stingy as they come, but now he was offering to pay himself, which showed how truly guilty he felt.

"Get lost, I don't need your paltry money," Song Wentong snapped back. "Where did you go to enjoy yourself last night? You weren't at the banquet, and even Fengdu sent people."

"Fengdu? Why are they here, of all places?" Mu Gesheng waved his hand at the words. "I have enough living people to deal with; I don't have time for the dead."

"You don't have a choice now." Song Wentong pushed open the window. From the small building, one could clearly see the nearby mountain peak, with Baishui Temple faintly visible. "The news of your return has spread. Two years ago, you weren't here, so this matter has been delayed. Now, all the families are sending people."

"Two days later, at the Ginkgo Study of Baishui Temple, seven families will gather, and all the masters will contend."