In Yu'an, rain was a frequent visitor, often falling from dusk until the deep of night and only ceasing before the first light of dawn. Consequently, the nights in Yu'an rarely saw the moon, and the sky over Douchen Ridge was seldom graced by stars.
Yet tonight, moonlight bathed Douchen Ridge. The pale light lay over the mountain forest like a coat of late-autumn frost, shrouding everything in a hazy white—save for one corner of the foothills, where a restless, murderous intent tore through the soft silence.
A hibiscus tree crashed to the ground, its stump as smooth as a table polished for months.
The purple-clad swordsman struck out with a backhanded palm, sending the fallen timber flying like a siege ram. It knocked away a dozen charging soldiers and crushed the wooden barricades the Yanchi Camp had set up earlier. The sword in his hand traced arcs of cold light through the dark; wherever it passed, flesh and blood flew.
Yan Guang had already spurred his horse forward. After several exchanges, he finally recognized the man: he was the very same purple-clad swordsman they had been hunting days ago. Incredulity flickered in Yan Guang's eyes.
"The Yulin Villa has been sealed for days. You actually..."
Yan Zi stood with his sword held behind him, his posture as arrogant as it had been when he ascended the Changmi Platform.
"Do you think withered branches, rotting leaves, snakes, and ants in the wilderness can stop me from coming and going as I please?"
Lu Songping looked at the dampness still clinging to the swordsman’s clothes, a realization dawning in his heart.
"You were a step late; he slipped in through the river." But he had not been entirely unprepared for this. "I knew that if I entered the mountains to move against the person within, you would surely come. Now that you are here, you might as well stay for good."
Yan Zi tilted his head in mock surprise. "By your strength alone?"
"Perhaps not by mine alone."
Yan Zi’s gaze shifted, landing on the panting Yan Guang. "Adding him? Still not enough."
Lu Songping gave a cryptic smile. "I never said there were only two of us."
Before his voice had even faded, a figure flew out from the ranks behind Yan Guang, heading straight for Yan Zi.
The newcomer wielded an ordinary halberd snatched from the Yanchi guards, yet it was more fluid in his hands than the soft sword in Lu Songping’s. With a few swift strikes, he forced Yan Zi back half a step.
The young swordsman planted his right leg firmly, subtly neutralizing the force of the killing blow, and finally narrowed his eyes to properly size up the interloper.
The man’s brownish-tan robes were tattered and worn, and his face appeared even more aged and haggard than before. Only his eyes burned with an unquenchable light, locking onto his prey like a hawk.
"The Dongyao Sword... you are not worthy of it."
Yan Zi stared at the old man. After a long moment, a memory finally surfaced. "It’s you? You’re actually still alive?"
Zong Hao’s expression remained impassive. After a pause, he spoke in a heavy voice. "The Xiao boy—where did you take him?"
Yan Zi frowned slightly. "Why should I tell you?"
Zong Hao let out a cold laugh. "It matters not if you don't answer. I have my own ways of making you speak."
As Zong Hao’s words fell, Lu Songping suddenly drew his sword and lunged. His soft sword struck from a treacherous angle, aiming three inches below Yan Zi’s ribs. Simultaneously, Yan Guang charged head-on with his saber, while Zong Hao used his halberd to vault himself high into the air.
The three men used three different styles. Though they had never coordinated before, the presence of a powerful enemy brought them into an unprecedented state of unspoken harmony.
Yan Zi was clearly displeased by this. Even as he parried their moves, he did not forget to provoke the most troublesome of the three—the old man in the brown robes.
"A High Priest from the Andao Academy actually stoops to bullying with numbers? A hollow victory, is it not?"
In the world of martial arts, when masters dueled, they avoided unfair advantages to ensure their victory was beyond reproach.
Unfortunately, these three could no longer be considered part of that world. They cared nothing for its rules. Each was ruthless and desperate for victory; not one of them cared about "bullying with numbers" or "hollow victories."
Zong Hao remained silent, his halberd all offense and no defense. Wherever the tip passed, killing intent dissipated, yet it remained as nimble as a hornet's sting. Yan Guang busied himself with support, his Yanchi saber moving in wide, sweeping arcs with the ferocity of a roaring tiger. Lu Songping was far more cunning, striking whenever he saw a gap and never missing an opportunity for a sneak attack.
Yan Zi was no fool. He quickly grasped the situation and stopped wasting his breath, unleashing a barrage of lethal techniques.
All four were fighting to the death. Outsiders couldn't even find an opening to intervene; they could only watch from the sidelines as the masters clashed in a blur.
At first, Yan Zi’s strange techniques and powerful sword intent allowed him to hold the upper hand against the three. However, the weapons held by Lu Songping’s trio—varying in length—compensated for each other's weaknesses in close, mid, and long-range combat. As time wore on, their advantage became apparent, and the tide began to turn.
But at that moment, a blood-curdling scream erupted from Zhao Youshan at the mountain pass.
"Officer Lu! Disaster! Quick, get down...!"
Lu Songping’s movement faltered for a fraction of a second, and a sword blade bit into his left shoulder.
He only had time to see Zhao Youshan and a few other soldiers scrambling out of the narrow pass, their torches long gone.
Then, an invisible and immense force erupted from the depths of the mountain. In an instant, it ground the soldiers trailing at the back into fine pieces.
Yan Zi seemed to have been prepared. Using the momentum from Yan Guang’s saber strike, he leaped into the air, performed a nimble mid-air flip, and landed on a protruding stone ledge on the mountainside. A smirk played on his lips as he watched the scene below.
A sharp whistling wind blasted out from the narrow mountain crevice, sounding like the roar of a mountain demon. In the darkness, it was as if an invisible giant blade had swung out from the pass, carving a deep trench into the ground directly in front of the opening. The overflowing air currents did not dissipate; they continued to slice through the surrounding vegetation and stone until they had cleared a vacant space over a hundred feet wide.
The Yanchi Camp soldiers who had been stationed in front of the pass were sent flying by this sudden, malevolent force. The remaining half on the periphery stood frozen in terror, unsure of what had just happened.
Yan Guang, who had been thrown into the mud alongside Lu Songping, didn't know either, but his face showed not a hint of fear or hesitation.
"Mere ghosts and monsters! Nothing to fear! Men, follow me and drive them back with steel! Leave not a single one alive!"
With that, he wrenched his Yanchi saber from the rubble and prepared to charge, only to be caught around the waist and held back by Lu Songping.
"What’s the rush?! You haven't even seen what we're dealing with..."
"Why should I look at him?! If you're afraid to die, get out of my way! Watch your Grandpa Yan beat him until he cries for his mother and shows his true form!"
If the Yanchi Garrison hadn't been the closest camp, Lu Songping truly would have preferred not to deal with anyone from the Yan family.
Helplessness was written all over Lu Songping’s face. He felt as though he weren't holding back a natural-born general, but a wild boar intent on charging up a mountain.
Seeing that he was about to lose his grip, he spoke urgently.
"In this situation, neither of us can get close! Do not force a frontal assault! If we surround him and wear him down, we will eventually have the advantage."
Would they truly have the advantage? Lu Songping didn't really think so.
Before coming here, he had theorized about the worst-case scenarios and had even gone so far as to use Zong Hao as a chess piece. Yet the current situation far exceeded his expectations.
He suddenly remembered the incident at Mount Se—the scenes described by the soldiers who had rescued the Emperor. They had used four words: *The earth rent asunder.*
At the time, he couldn't imagine what that meant. He simply thought those soldiers lacked experience and were prone to exaggeration.
Now, he understood.
Floating clouds obscured the moon, casting a massive shadow before the mountain. The figure emerging from within was a dark silhouette that blurred into the contours of the great mountain, looking like a ghost without a physical form.
"You are clever. This time you specifically chose some incompetent trash to scout the way, and knowing your body has already formed a contract with me, you teamed up with a descendant of the Qu family to oppose me. Unfortunately, it is ultimately just the strength of mortals. Even staking your lives, it is but a mantis trying to stop a carriage."
The wind tore a hole in the clouds. Moonlight flared, illuminating the speaker’s face—a face that looked like withered bark.
So, this was the true face of the thing that had attacked him in the darkness.
Lu Songping said nothing, his peripheral vision flickering toward the pitch-black depths of the forest behind him.
In the next instant, the skeleton-like body emitted a hollow sound.
"You are stalling for time."
The invisible force gathered once more. After shredding the surrounding bushes, it did not stop. The swirling wind blades swept up the mountain rocks and the sand on the ground, creating a whirlwind at the foot of the mountain that rose like a pillar of signal smoke.
"Again!" Yan Guang raised his arm to shield himself from the flying debris. "Lu Songping, have you seen enough yet? What do we do now?!"
Lu Songping had no time to explain. His eyes were locked onto the chaotic battlefield.
To avoid that ever-shifting demonic wind, his chance was one in a million. He had to seize it.
Since he couldn't get close, he would try another way.
He suddenly flipped upward against a tall yellow pine behind him, his left hand reaching deep into the canopy. When he landed, he held a longbow and three Cloud-Treading Arrows.
Nocking an arrow, he locked his gaze on the figure shrouded in the wind blades and swiftly loosed the first shot.
The silver-white arrow flew under the moonlight, trailing a long, thin line through the night, but it was quickly severed by the wind blades.
Lu Songping did not stop, nocking another arrow.
The swordsman on the stone ledge had already noticed his intent. He dove down, heading straight for Lu Songping, only to be intercepted by the brown-robed old man who had been biding his time.
The second Cloud-Treading Arrow flew. This time, the shaft nearly pierced the invisible wall of wind, only being struck down at the very last moment.
The surrounding gale seemed to be slowly weakening. Lu Songping held his breath and focused his spirit, concentrating all five senses on this final arrow.
The arrow flew, like a silver serpent darting into the curtain of wind.
In the next heartbeat, the purple-clad swordsman’s blade attacked from the side.
Yan Zi had actually taken a palm strike from Zong Hao just to get close enough to take Lu Songping’s life.
Lu Songping was unprepared. He could only twist his body toward the opponent's blind spot, hoping for a moment's respite to draw his sword and counterattack.
However, he watched in horror as the Dongyao Sword danced across the opponent's right wrist, bypassed the shoulder blade, and landed like a flash of light in his left hand.
In that moment, he finally understood why the short swordsman beside Xiao Nanhui had died.
With such mastery of the sword, he was actually ambidextrous.
He had been careless.
"Caught you."
The young swordsman’s blood-stained, smiling face appeared half-visible behind his neck, carrying a faint sense of excitement. The white blade did not stop, driving toward the back of Lu Songping’s neck.
At the critical moment, a leisurely voice rang out from nowhere.
"Junior Brother, move aside."
The voice was clearly slow, yet it seemed to enter everyone's ears in a split second.
Lu Songping didn't react in time, but a few paces away, Zong Hao’s figure instinctively stiffened. Then, a black shadow flew past the tips of their noses.
Lu Songping had come from the world of martial outlaws and had seen many insidious methods in his early years. Assassins who killed for money spent all their time perfecting hidden weapons that were impossible to guard against.
But he had never seen a hidden weapon like this—one that made no sound of breaking the air, passing like a mere gust of wind.
The dark mass arrived before Yan Zi in an instant. He was forced to abort his killing move and instinctively dodge, but the object seemed to be attached to an invisible string, pinning itself right between his eyebrows. No matter how he retreated or dodged, he could not escape it.
Yan Zi was struck square in the face, staggering back three steps.
He suddenly realized something. Even when Zong Hao had pressed him with the halberd, he had only retreated half a step.
Lu Songping finally regained his senses and stared at the ground, frozen.
Lying before Yan Zi was a shoe.
The most ordinary kind—green-topped with a hemp sole, the sort sold cheaply for twenty wen for three pairs at the Quecheng night market.
At the same time, the wind in the clearing finally died down.
A rustling sound came from the forest behind them. Then, a massive, blurred shadow gradually took shape. Under the moonlight, the newcomer's face could just barely be discerned.
The man looked peculiar. He had black hair falling to his shoulders, yet his face was that of an octogenarian. He wore coarse white cloth robes that looked like mourning clothes washed many times over, yet they were impeccably neat.
His mount was a dark mass, far sturdier and taller than an ordinary warhorse. As it moved through the forest, it never paused; the dense thickets and thorny brambles seemed to turn soft, parting for the massive figure.
Only when the giant beast stepped out of the woods and into the clearing did everyone see clearly: it was a Giant Azure Rhinoceros. Its body was bare, with neither saddle nor bridle. The white-robed, black-haired old man sat steadily upon it, holding a duster adorned with various colored feathers. One foot was tucked beneath him, while the other was raised—and that foot was missing its shoe.
A great weight lifted from Lu Songping’s heart, and his posture became much more relaxed.
"Master Xie."
Xie Li tapped his colorful duster and waved a hand with a smile. "No need for thanks, no need."
Zong Hao let out a cold snort, his voice filled with undisguised contempt.
Xie Li glanced at the disheveled, brown-robed old man in the center of the clearing, his expression quite pleasant.
"Why the long face? If I hadn't stepped in, you'd be dead by now."
Zong Hao finally broke his silence, letting out a couple of eerie, cackling laughs.
"After all these years, Senior Brother, you are still as loathsome as ever."
Xie Li seemed too lazy to deal with Zong Hao. He looked up at the moon, then down at the wreckage around them, and let out a long sigh.
"They say Yu'an was once a treasure land, famous for its mulberries and peaches. In my view, the yin energy is indeed a bit heavy. It’s unlucky. It’s time to clear away this filth."
In the center of the clearing, Yan Zi slowly wiped the blood from his mouth, his sword ready.
"So, they were stalling for time just to wait for you."
Xie Li seemed to notice him for the first time and turned his head.
"That sword... does it handle well?"
Yan Zi flicked his wrist, and the blood on the blade dripped away.
"I have killed countless masters with this sword. The last one was only a few months ago—someone from your Andao Academy. I wonder if the Head went to collect her body?"
There was unmistakable malice in his words, yet Xie Li only sighed.
"Years ago, when I cast the names Bolao and Yan Zi into the pool, I hoped the disciples who chose them would complement each other's weaknesses and improve together. Yet you two never met. She entered the General's Manor in a fit of pique, and you stole the sword and fled the sect. It was indeed the fate of the morning and evening stars—destined never to meet, and if they did, one must suffer."
"When warriors meet, it is either death or injury. What is wrong with that?"
Xie Li pulled two short daggers from his sleeve and tossed them onto the ground.
"True. But you should never, ever have broken her weapons."
Arrogance once again flooded Yan Zi’s face.
He naturally recognized those short daggers.
After all, not many people could wound him. He had some impression of the daggers' owner.
In the past, he never remembered the faces of those who died by his sword. Those blurred faces were too mediocre to draw even a fraction of his attention from his own world.
"A warrior is judged by victory or defeat. The strong prey on the weak; one must accept the loss. Her martial arts were third-rate, and her weapons were equally lowly."
"A fine 'third-rate' indeed." Xie Li laughed three times toward the sky, his laughter carrying a touch of wildness unbefitting his age. "Then do you know why the Dongyao Sword in your hand developed a crack?"
Yan Zi was visibly stunned.
His sword was off-limits to everyone but himself, and no one could observe it closely once it was drawn.
The timing of that crack's appearance had been strange, and its form was so minute that he wouldn't have noticed it if he didn't spend every day with the blade. How did this man know?
His face showed a discordant mix of confusion and rage, much like the crack on his sword.
"It was because I did not restrain my strength when striking. It was caused by the vibration."
"Ignorant brat. I might as well tell you."
The white-robed old man looked at the purple-clad swordsman, the depths of his eyes turning as calm as still water.
"Dongyao was forged from meteorite iron. Few know that there was leftover material from the forging. Though not enough to make another sword or saber, it would have been a waste to discard it. The Andao Academy fashioned it into a pair of short daggers and stored them in the Hanling Pavilion, never mentioning their origin to later generations. Because the blades were short and paired, no one touched them for a hundred years—until Bolao entered my academy."
*The stone from another mountain can polish one's jade.* Swords of the same origin have no inherent difference in strength.
What he thought was third-rate was actually of the same lineage as him. What he thought was lowly was no different from himself.
Xie Li slowly stood up from the back of the giant rhinoceros, stepping his left foot onto the beast's shoulder. Only then did everyone realize how tall the old man was. His presence was overwhelming; even from a distance, one dared not look him in the eye.
"Weapons have no rank, and martial arts have no level. For all who enter my gate, the first lesson is to learn the meaning of reverence. From the look of it, your cultivation in this regard is still severely lacking."
Before the last word left his lips, he was no longer on the rhinoceros's shoulder.
He held no weapon, only that colorful, gaudy feather duster. Yet that object, meant only for dusting, tore through the air with immense killing intent. Every single tail feather seemed to transform in an instant into a forest of blades and a rain of swords, unstoppable.
The purple-clad swordsman instinctively focused his spirit and raised his sword to meet the strike. However, he heard a crisp *crack*, followed by the colorful feathers exploding before him like fireworks.
With a single strike, he had shattered his own indestructible sword.
With that same strike, Xie Li had crushed both of his collarbones.
For a swordsman, the connection between the shoulder blade and the collarbone is vital. Though his life was spared, he was now no different from a cripple.
It was a duel that had ended before it truly began, so fast it left everyone bewildered.
And the perpetrator of it all suddenly put on a frail act, hands on his hips as he began to cough.
"I'm getting old, I'm useless. As soon as the weather gets warm, this cough gets terrible."
Even someone as flexible and opportunistic as Lu Songping didn't know how to respond to that.
Zong Hao, who was a "thousand-year-old turtle" himself, had clearly seen through Xie Li, that "ten-thousand-year-old tortoise." He ignored him entirely, stepping forward to grab Yan Zi and turning to leave.
Seeing this, Yan Guang hurried to follow.
Lu Songping had something else to confirm. He walked straight to the withered old man—the entity—and pulled the Cloud-Treading Arrow from between its brows. The body no longer possessed a shred of life. A black liquid smelling of rot flowed from its orifices, and the entire corpse melted like a guttering candle, turning into a puddle of sludge.
In the distance, Yan Zi’s crazed screams drifted back.
"Merely a rotting vessel! The gods are immortal! You can never destroy it, never..."
Lu Songping stood there for a moment. Everything tonight felt like a bizarre nightmare.
He turned toward the fragments of the broken sword scattered on the ground.
The Dongyao Sword, from the day it was forged, had carried the weight of the sun, moon, and the realm, embodying the hopes and aspirations of countless people. Now...
"A pity."
"What's there to pity? Without a master craftsman, it's just a piece of pig iron. It's not even as useful as my duster..."
Lu Songping glanced at Xie Li. He couldn't truly treat the sword as scrap metal, so he stepped forward to pick up the shards.
However, as soon as he picked up one piece, he froze.
Between two fragments of the broken sword was a small, grayish-white object. It was hard and cool to the touch, with slight irregularities.
It looked like... a piece of bone?
"Well, well, well." Xie Li’s voice, which had drifted away, suddenly sounded right next to him. "This object looks like the unluckiest of unlucky things. It should be taken to that crooked monk, Yikong, for a look."
Lu Songping’s expression faltered. "Master Yikong should no longer be in Quecheng."
"Not in Quecheng?" Xie Li raised a dark eyebrow. "Then where did he go?"
"Wancheng."
Xie Li understood. "I leave, and he follows right after. He certainly knows how to time things, doesn't he, Officer Lu?"
Lu Songping didn't dare reply. The image of the monk’s sincere face as he wished him a safe journey flashed through his mind. He suddenly felt that the "bad luck" of tonight was far from over.
***
Thirty miles outside the southwest border of Huozhou, a carriage sped along a somewhat desolate country road.
The carriage was a good one, sturdy and stable. The horse was a fine one, its hooves flying. Only the driver seemed a bit lazy, humming a tune with indiscernible lyrics, a half-empty wineskin tucked under his arm. It seemed that as long as the carriage didn't veer into a ditch, he could keep swaying along in this leisurely fashion forever.
The curtain behind him was suddenly yanked open, and a hand slapped the back of his swaying head without ceremony.
His drunken haze and mountain scenery were instantly shattered. Luo He turned back in a rage.
"You impudent brat! How dare you... how dare you..."
"How dare I what?" Xiao Nanhui’s eyebrows shot up, her face no longer holding even a shred of politeness. "If we don't arrive today, I won't just be impudent. I can be heartless, cold-blooded, and ruthless too..."
Threatened for no reason, Luo He was very displeased.
"Is it my fault we can't find the way?! I haven't been back in over twenty years! This tree isn't that tree, this rock isn't that rock. Old Zhang’s family has probably had two more generations of kids by now. Who remembers if the village entrance faced east or west?!"
"Stop giving me excuses! Even if I left Suyan for over a decade, I could still find my way back to the city."
Luo He looked the half-crazed woman up and down, a wave of disdain accompanied by a mysterious sense of superiority washing over him.
"Do you think Zhongtian is just any place? How can it be compared to that barbaric land of yours in Lingxi?"
Xiao Nanhui hated people who looked down on others, especially those who did so based on their place of birth. But she was no longer the simple girl who was easily provoked into a rage.
Nowadays, her tongue was not to be trifled with.
"And do you think the person sitting in your carriage is just anyone? Is she someone a mere teahouse waiter can neglect?"
Hit by her overwhelming pressure, Luo He indeed began to stutter.
"I... I am at least this boy's maternal uncle! Show me... show me some respect!"
Over the past few days, whenever they disagreed, this man would use his status as a maternal uncle to pressure her. Previously, she had been too worried about whether Su Wei would sleep himself to death to care, but now she felt it was time to settle the score.
"Maternal uncle? I don't care what kind of uncle you are! These days, people even dare to claim kinship with the Emperor. His mother's family was wiped out years ago, not a single soul left. Where did you crawl out from?"
Luo He’s face turned red from his neck up, looking like a toad that had failed to find a mate, nearly choking himself. After a long while, he croaked out a few words.
"I... I won't tell you!"
Xiao Nanhui laughed in frustration. She didn't want to waste any more words on this wine-soaked blockhead. She crawled out from behind the curtain and shoved the lazy driver aside with her hip.
"If you don't want to fall off, sit tight!"
The reins snapped in the air, and the horse accelerated, galloping toward the hazy distance.
With less than half an hour until dawn, though it wasn't yet the busy autumn season, early-rising farmers were already busy in the fields, and herders were already shouting at their livestock to leave the pens.
The land finally showed some signs of life. Xiao Nanhui drove the carriage along the path until it reached a three-way junction.
"Which way?"
Luo He’s mouth hung open as he looked around, his face a mask of bewilderment.
Xiao Nanhui raised her leg and kicked the still-hesitating fool off the carriage, then drove straight toward a small courtyard a dozen paces away.
The yard looked simple and crude, with the fence posts stuck crookedly into the mud. It sat right across from the three-way junction—a major taboo in domestic feng shui, showing the owner's lack of refinement in every detail.
She pulled the horse to a stop and looked into the yard.
Inside, an old woman was bent over, tidying the chicken coop. Not far away, a young man in green robes had his back to her, helping out.
Xiao Nanhui hesitated for a moment, then spoke as politely as she could.
"Excuse me, may I ask if this place..."
Before she could finish, the white-haired old woman suddenly leaped up. With one hand she grabbed the young man's ear, and with the other she pointed at him, scolding him with a voice so powerful it could carry for miles.
"I told you yesterday to add less water when mixing the chicken feed! Why is it still so watery today?! Are you trying to kill the chickens or kill me?!"
The young man in green had no way to fight back. Even as he retreated, he didn't forget to admit his mistake and cower.
"I'll put less... I'll put less next time..."
*Eh? Why does this person's voice sound so familiar?*
Xiao Nanhui wondered to herself, hesitating whether to go forward and ask for directions. In the next instant, the young man turned around. She was so shocked she nearly fell off the carriage.
The other person saw her too and froze. Then, he abruptly turned back, leaving only a very complicated-looking back with a few chicken feathers stuck in his hair.
Xiao Nanhui judged that it was an emotion woven from shame, anger, and embarrassment.
"Ding... Ding Weixiang?!"
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 动爻之剑 | Dongyao Sword | A legendary sword; "Dongyao" refers to changing lines in I Ching hexagrams. |
| 踏云箭 | Cloud-Treading Arrows | Specialized arrows used by Lu Songping. |
| 大青兕 | Giant Azure Rhinoceros | A mythical beast mount ridden by Xie Li. |
| 伯劳 | Bolao | A disciple's name (literally "Shrike"). |
| 燕紫 | Yan Zi | The purple-clad swordsman (literally "Swallow Purple"). |
| 谢黎 | Xie Li | Head of the Andao Academy. |
| 终天 | Zhongtian | A place name, likely the destination of Xiao Nanhui. |
| 宿岩 | Suyan | A place name mentioned by Xiao Nanhui. |
| 丁未翔 | Ding Weixiang | A character from previous chapters encountered at the farm. |
| 罗合 | Luo He | The driver and self-proclaimed maternal uncle of Su Wei. |
| 晚城 | Wancheng | A city name. |
| 翰灵阁 | Hanling Pavilion | A storage location within Andao Academy. |
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