Mountains and rivers bear witness; old memories linger among the flames Chapter Eleven: Recollections of the Southern Capital (Part Two)

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Nandu, once the main city of the Muyun Prefecture, had, because of an incident long ago, been abandoned as the seat of power. The Prefect himself decreed that Nandu would only allow entry, not exit, and sealed off all information about it. As time passed, fewer and fewer people remembered Nandu, until it became a forgotten place—a sad fate for such a rare and beautiful city. To Muyun, it was a city of sin; had there not been a handful who still remembered its existence, it would have long vanished from the world’s memory.

“It’s been years since I last tasted Nandu’s osmanthus wine,” Jiang Wuyou said, his face dreamy, as if he were savoring the fragrant brew at that very moment.

Hearing this, Chen Zhiming fell into deep thought. This place called Nandu seemed wonderful, but why had it been abandoned and sealed off by Muyun Prefecture? What secrets lay buried there? It seemed only by going to Nandu could those mysteries be unraveled.

“Kid, Nandu only lets people in but not out. You’d best give up any thoughts of going there,” Jiang Wuyou said, glancing at Chen Zhiming as if he had read his mind.

Chen Zhiming lowered his head, pondering. Indeed, if they truly couldn’t leave, what would happen to his mother? Yet if he didn’t go, he’d never find his uncle Yu Ansheng, and truth be told, he was curious to see this fabled Nandu for himself.

At that moment, Yu Ansheng spoke up from the side. “If that’s the case, I shouldn’t drag you two into danger any longer. Your families need you. You’ve already helped me enough on this journey. From here on, let me go alone.”

At his words, the air grew heavy with unspoken emotion.

“Let’s rest for now. We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” Chen Zhiming said, then lay down first. That night, everyone’s hearts were burdened.

Before dawn, one person awoke. He checked his surroundings to ensure everyone was still asleep, then slipped outside. There, he found the man in white and bowed. “Sir.” The latter nodded knowingly, and the two of them walked away from the others.

Once certain they were alone, Yu Ansheng spoke. “Sir, can you tell me where Nandu is? I don’t want to implicate the others. They’ve done enough for me already.”

Jiang Wuyou cast him a sidelong glance, tossed him a map, and said coolly, “The location is marked. Also, I’ve indicated where your parents are buried.”

Yu Ansheng looked at him with gratitude. Jiang Wuyou waved it off. Yu Ansheng bowed deeply, glanced back at the house, whispered his farewell, and left alone. Watching his departing figure, Jiang Wuyou closed his eyes halfway, lost in thought or perhaps in a brief rest.

The previous night, Jiang Wuyou had captured a spy lurking nearby and learned everything, including the burial place of Yu Ansheng’s parents. For their safety, he had kept watch outside all night.

Beyond the outskirts, Yu Ansheng reached a hillside where two graves stood. Offerings, left days before, sat before the tombs. He found his parents’ favorite things among them. Slowly, he knelt and bowed his head to the ground several times. “Father, Mother, your son has come too late.”

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“I am unfilial, unable to see you one last time. If I had known what would come of this journey, I would never have left you. Yet I do not regret this journey, for it opened my eyes to new worlds and new friends. Now, my only kin left in this world is my uncle. He came to tend to your final affairs—a kindness I shall never forget. Now he’s missing, and only by going to Nandu might I learn his fate. I must go, even if I never return. Please, do not blame me.”

“In the past, my greatest concern was filling my belly, simply surviving, living each day between hunger and existence. But this journey to Lingwu showed me wonders, and I had good friends by my side. Now that I’ve returned home, I have no regrets. All I wish is to find my uncle, fulfill my promise to that little girl, and repay my uncle’s kindness.”

He bowed again to the graves. As the sun rose, its rays filtered through the tombstones, bathing his face in gentle warmth, as if his parents were caressing him. He smiled, stretched out his arms as if to embrace the sunlight, then rose, took out the map given by Jiang Wuyou, found his bearings, and set out with determination.

Outside Nandu, at the Congjun Forest.

Following the map, Yu Ansheng arrived and was startled by the scene before him. Once a lush forest, it now lay dead and desolate. Scattered across the ground were broken armor, snapped swords and spears, and half-buried bones—one after another, everywhere he looked. He swallowed hard, hesitating to proceed. After much wavering, he finally steeled himself, bowed deeply toward the forest, and walked in.

The deeper he went, the heavier the air of death became. Surely, a fierce battle had raged here in ages past. Yet not a word of it had ever escaped Muyun. What were they hiding?

Every step through the forest echoed in the silence, the only sound the crunch of bones beneath his feet. After a long while, a glimmer of green appeared ahead. Yu Ansheng quickened his pace, emerging from the dead wood into a thriving forest full of spring vitality. At the edge stood a massive city, but unlike any he had seen before. Most cities had four walls, but this one had six, forming a perfect hexagon—completely overturning everything he thought he knew.

Dazed, he realized the ground ahead dropped off—a sheer cliff about fifty meters high. From below, the cliff was nearly impossible to climb, and similar cliffs appeared at intervals. No wonder entry was allowed, but not exit. Without someone above lowering a rope, it was impossible to ascend. The place was strange, the cliffs descending like giant steps, their surfaces smooth as if carved by human hands. He laughed at his own childish thought—who could possess such power?

With no tools, Yu Ansheng considered returning for equipment. Suddenly, a strange wind struck, making him stumble dangerously close to the edge. Before he could recover, the wind came again, and he was blown over the cliff. As he plummeted, a figure in white swept through the air, caught him, and leaped a hundred meters with a few steps, landing at the city gate.

As Yu Ansheng regained his senses, a familiar voice called his name. Gu Wen ran over to steady him, and Chen Zhiming approached, saying coolly, “Well, aren’t you the bold one, leaving without a word.”

Yu Ansheng looked at them, then at Jiang Wuyou in white. He knew he owed these friends more than ever.

“Do you even consider us your friends? We came all this way with you—did you really think we’d abandon you over a few words? So what if it’s easy to enter, hard to leave?” Gu Wen scolded angrily.

Chen Zhiming patted Yu Ansheng’s shoulder, then joined Jiang Wuyou, gazing at the massive city gate. “Congjun Gate,” he read the bold characters overhead. Turning, he asked, “This city has six walls and six gates?”

Jiang Wuyou nodded. “Nandu has six gates. The first three are Congjun, Congwen, and Congyi—the Gates of the Military, the Scholar, and the Healer. The last three are Fearless, Peerless, and Unfettered.”

Chen Zhiming frowned at the curious names. “Do they mean something?”

Jiang Wuyou explained, “Each gate is guarded by one of the six city lords. Entering is unrestricted, but to leave, you must pass their trials. The first three gates represent the aspirations of the city’s people; the last three, the governing principles of the city lords and their people.”

“So that’s how it is,” Chen Zhiming said, suddenly enlightened.

Gu Wen and the others stepped forward, all gazing at the monumental gate, its surface etched with mysterious patterns. In fact, before Yu Ansheng’s arrival, Jiang Wuyou had already shown the others all the city gates, and Chen Zhiming had chosen to wait here. He stepped forward and knocked on the gate, the group tense with anticipation. When nothing happened, he tried again.

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This time, a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, but the gate remained still. Chen Zhiming looked to Jiang Wuyou, who gestured for him to try once more. On the third knock, a bell sounded from within, and the trees outside suddenly exploded with flying leaves, swirling toward the group. Never having seen such a sight, they froze in terror.

Just as the leaves were about to engulf them, Jiang Wuyou stepped forward, waving his feather fan. With a sweep, the leaves burst apart in midair.

Then he called to the sky, “Second City Lord, why not show yourself?” Laughter thundered from above. “Ha! The scholar in white, Jiang Wuyou—long time no see!”

A sword shot from within the city, soaring into the sky. Clouds split as the blade sliced downward, the air ringing with sword-song. Grass, flowers, and trees rose up, swirling around the blade as it descended. Jiang Wuyou opened his fan and sent it spinning around him, splitting into two, then four. The four fans became rain, wind, moon, and flower—phantoms multiplying. Grasping one, he swept it out, summoning a fierce gale.

The two forces collided midair, the shockwave blasting the three spectators backward, leaves and petals raining down. Jiang Wuyou leapt skyward, stepping on drifting leaves. From the city, another figure flew out, meeting him midair. Their battle sent gales sweeping through the green forest, trees bending under the force.

After half an hour, the distant figures finally stopped, glancing back at the onlookers. Chen Zhiming felt the weight of their gaze—the other man seemed to be sizing him up. He could only sigh inwardly; everything before him defied belief. He knew of warriors in the world, but how many could wield such power? For a moment, he even considered learning martial arts, but quickly shook his head. He had to care for himself and his mother—there was no time for such dreams. Selling his paintings for a living was the true path.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the two figures approaching. The man was tall and strong, his eyes filled with boundless fighting spirit.

The three hurriedly bowed. The man waved a hand, telling them not to stand on ceremony, and asked, “Are you the ones seeking entry?”

They nodded.

“You know it’s easy to enter, but hard to leave?”

Again, they nodded.

“Very well,” the man said with a wave at the gate, “Open.”

With a creak, the city gate swung open.

…