Volume One: A Thousand Years of the Stream Chapter 16: The World Beyond the Ridge

“Brother, why are you going to the sect?”
“To cultivate.”
“I want to go too.”
“Then go.”

Sun Zikai led Yang Youshi to Old Yang and explained their purpose. Old Yang refused outright. It wasn’t because he was unwilling; the reason he dared make life-and-death decisions for Sun Zikai was that he knew how formidable the boy was. What seemed like a dead end to others was more like an opportunity for Sun Zikai. But Youshi was different. At nine years old, having been protected by everyone, she had never experienced hardship. She had never even truly learned what it meant to live, let alone venture out into the world.

Sun Zikai shared this view. He saw no talent in Youshi, and now that the gatekeepers had earned two pieces of gold, enough to support their families comfortably in the city, he saw no reason to risk it.

Yet the next day, Sun Zikai returned to Old Yang. The previous night, while explaining to Youshi, she had said, “Brother, I want to be free like you—free to go out, free to come back.”

Old Zhang and Old Yang, rarely in agreement when it came to children, both opposed Sun Zikai’s decision firmly. Sun Zikai respected these father figures deeply and promised repeatedly, but could not change their minds—until Youshi herself stepped in, saying she would not leave. Thinking that if she left, no one would treat the gatekeepers, she chose to sacrifice herself.

Upon hearing this, Old Yang was silent for a long time before finally deciding to let Sun Zikai take Youshi to the sect.

Sun Zikai and Old Zhang were puzzled and uncertain about Old Yang’s decision, but it was final. The cart that had returned from the desert resumed its journey, this time carrying a little girl.

It was the first time in seven years that Sun Zikai walked the road into the city. Since joining Ansheng Pass, he had never returned. The three had to ride outside the cart since it was filled with parcels of all sizes. The gatekeepers and their families had raised Yang Youshi since she was a child. The bright and obedient girl had long been regarded as everyone’s goddaughter. About half the parcels contained food, the rest clothes, which worried Sun Zikai greatly.

“Are you going into the city?” Jiang Yujin asked.
“Yes, I want to see my old home. You can wait outside the city.” Sun Zikai stopped the cart outside and went in alone.

The city’s beggars were still numerous. Although no barbarians had invaded in recent years, this small city, twice plundered seven years ago, had yet to recover. The reason was clear: the fourteen cities lacked clear order, and resources were fixed and limited. Inside the pass was not peaceful; unity existed only in guarding the pass. Beyond that, problems were tangled and difficult to resolve.

The city’s inhabitants clustered by surname; clans with more members tended to be wealthier and more stable. Most conflicts centered around clan rivalry, seldom ending with mutual benefit—usually one rose while another fell.

The Sun clan was one of decline. Small in number and scattered across cities with little contact, they lived harsh lives.

Not long after entering, a group of beggars blocked Sun Zikai’s path. Years of disorder had worn down their humanity; begging had turned into robbing.

Sun Zikai stood with hands in his pockets, calmly observing them. The beggars were the city’s largest “clan” now. Their leader, a youth about seventeen or eighteen, naturally did not take the eleven- or twelve-year-old boy seriously.

“Leave your belongings and get lost.”

Sun Zikai was silent for a moment, then shook his head weakly. He drew his left hand to the sheath of his long sword at his waist, pushed it slightly—the blade gleamed coldly.

“Do you want it?”

“I want it all.”

“Then come and take it.”

The beggar stepped forward, reaching for the sword. Their eyes met. Sun Zikai didn’t raise his head but looked at him coolly and emotionlessly. The beggar paused, then reached again, only to shudder and look at the impassive face.

The beggar screamed and fell backward, crawling away in fright, trembling, “It’s... it’s you...”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“You... you’re back... you’re the little... little devil guarding the pass!”

“Devil?” Sun Zikai frowned.

“No, no, you’re a hero... you’re a hero...”

“Hm, yes, it’s me. Want my sword?”

A flowerpot on a nearby roof was knocked down by a dog and shattered on the ground. The beggar immediately knelt before Sun Zikai, repeatedly kowtowing. Sun Zikai silently walked away without further action.

He first went to the site of Jinping Manor, but all that remained were broken walls and ruins. Anything movable had been looted by the townsfolk. Then he visited the small stall where he had once hoped to buy a pancake, but it too had vanished, leaving only a few broken tables and stools. He sat there on the wood for a long while before finally standing to leave.

The courtyard was earthen, the houses simple, white walls with thatched roofs and pottery jars. Standing before the door, he heard voices inside. His house had indeed been taken over by his uncle’s family. Hiding in the shadows, he saw many people entering, bearing food and goods. After some inquiry, he understood the situation.

Half an hour later, on a narrow path, he blocked a man in a hurry. The man seemed always fatigued, bowing politely to everyone. At a glance, he recognized the boy because he looked too much like his younger brother.

“Xikai, is that you?”

“Uncle.”

“You’re alive? You really are the little devil from Ansheng Pass?”

“Haven’t you been living comfortably in the city under my name?”

The man lowered his head and said, “Come home. It’s been many years. Your sister was thinking of you just yesterday.”

“My home? Didn’t you take it over?”

The man was silent a moment, then said, “I looked for you but couldn’t find you.”

“I’ve been wandering the city. I didn’t see you looking.”

“Well... the barbarians came. I thought you...”

“Before the barbarians came, I wandered for a long time. I never heard you looking for me.”

“I... I heard you were at Ansheng Pass and was relieved.”

“I stayed at Ansheng Pass for seven years. You never came looking.”

The man knew he was in the wrong and lowered his eyes.

Sun Zikai asked, “What about the money the sect gave for my parents?”

The man stammered, “Your... aunt... fell ill, so...”

After a long silence, Sun Zikai spoke, “You may keep the house and money, but don’t use my name for favors again.”

“Child, come home with me.”

A flash of cold light—his long sword was drawn, but he could not bring himself to point the blade at his uncle. Instead, he stuck it into the ground between them and said coldly, “Remember what I said. Do as I say, or I will kill them.”

Sheathing the sword, he left but did not leave the city. He saw his uncle return home and waited until evening. Even then, people still brought food inside. His ears, sharpened from training, heard the conversation from afar: his aunt was laughing, saying today her nephew had come home, and his uncle chatted about the hardships at Ansheng Pass and wanting to return home.

Visitors quickly offered food, thanking the family for their care of those inside the pass.

Sun Zikai drew his sword outside, standing silently for a long time. His heart struggled with his choice. Sitting on a stone, he thought about how when he was weak and powerless, he chose to escape. Now that he was strong, why could he still not freely do what was right?

He wanted to go in and kill, but suddenly felt that his way of solving problems was mostly by killing—especially with barbarians. Killing was the easiest method. People were always hindered by endless trivialities. Even freedom was not living as one pleased. The wings of freedom always hid darkness beneath, a foundation it dared not expose but could never abandon.

He understood that what would not change was not his uncle but his aunt. He sheathed his sword and left. That night, his cousin’s arm and nephew’s leg were broken. The next day, the family hurriedly moved to another city and never mentioned the “little devil of Ansheng Pass” as their nephew again. Not killing did not mean compromise. He was free—not able to do everything as he wished, but refusing to let anyone cage him, including with morality.

That night, he left the city. Jiang Yujin and Yang Youshi waited on the cart all day. With the gatekeeper’s sign hanging outside, no one dared to disturb them.

When they saw Sun Zikai, Jiang Yujin said nothing, but Yang Youshi pouted, “Brother, where have you been? You just got back after a whole day! I can’t go anywhere, I’ve been waiting forever.”

“Want to go back?”

“Not really. Let’s go.”

They did not enter any city but traveled along the main road outside, heading northwest. The gatekeeper’s sign worked wonders, allowing smooth passage and nearly zero expenses.

Yang Youshi said, “Uncle Zhang said don’t just take whatever is offered. If you can pay, pay. City people don’t have it easy either. But my godfather said to take it. Brother, you’re just like my godfather—take anything given. Aren’t you ashamed?”

Sun Zikai replied, “Gatekeepers risk their lives for many. If you don’t take it, how will those after you? Taking it respects the burden and reassures the city folks. After all, their hardship depends on staying alive first.”

“Oh, my godfather says it better than you.”

Jiang Yujin kept practicing the three moves on the cart roof. Sun Zikai watched and said, “Is that all you can do?”

“Huh? Didn’t you teach me those three moves?”

“You didn’t stab me like that last time.”

Jiang Yujin thought for a moment. “That was because you suddenly kicked me, so I stepped back and stabbed, seeing you were blocking the blade, I switched to my left hand. What’s your point?”

Sun Zikai jumped onto the roof and told Youshi to drive. Then he said, “Come, kill me.”

Jiang Yujin attacked without restraint. Sun Zikai crouched to dodge, flicked his right hand fingers three times rapidly on the sword’s blade. The first flick could have sent the sword flying, but the second absorbed the force, and the third made the blade vibrate in place.

Jiang Yujin’s right hand went numb; the sword slipped and fell. Sun Zikai attacked along the side, Jiang Yujin retreated stiffly but fell into his trap, leaning back as Sun Zikai caught her and grabbed her neck with one hand. Calmly, he said, “See? You’re dead.”

Only then did Jiang Yujin feel the pain in her right hand. Sun Zikai let her go. She silently reached for her sword but couldn’t grasp it due to numbness. She switched to her left hand and said, “Again.”

Sun Zikai stepped back two paces. Jiang Yujin attacked again but was noticeably slower with her left hand sword. Sun Zikai didn’t even block, kicking the sword away. It shot straight into the sky. Jiang Yujin’s hands dropped, right trembling, left cracked and bleeding.

Sun Zikai caught the falling sword by the hilt. “See? You’re dead again.”

Yang Youshi couldn’t stand it. “Brother, you’re bullying her. She never practiced outside. I’ll tell godfather. And you’re crazy. Aren’t you her servant?”

Sun Zikai realized trouble and feared losing money again, but Jiang Yujin said, “I still have two feet. Again.” She shuffled forward and backward. Sun Zikai smiled and nodded, “Impressive.”

She was always so serious. After a moment, Jiang Yujin was kicked flying, rolling on the ground before stopping. Sun Zikai stood on the roof, instructing, “Your right foot is too light. The second jump can’t bounce. Don’t think left then right. Forget the feet; think where you want to go.”

Yang Youshi looked astonished. Sun Zikai realized something was wrong, jumped down, and helped Jiang Yujin up, anxious, “Are you okay?”

Unexpectedly, Jiang Yujin’s nose bled, and she cried loudly, “How can you hit me like that! Why hit me like that!”

“We were sparring. I had to take you seriously.”

Jiang Yujin cried harder. Sun Zikai hurriedly apologized, “I’m sorry, I was too intense.”

She sobbed, “Deduct money!”

“How much?”

“All of it!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

When her hands healed, Jiang Yujin climbed back onto the roof to practice the three moves again. She began to understand Sun Zikai’s point—no more monotonous repetition but changing the order and direction, breaking free from bodily and mental habits. Attack whenever you want, retreat when needed. Fight not just to reach a target but to do everything possible to protect yourself and defeat your opponent.

The fourteen cities lay encircled by three long ridges, with only Ansheng Pass as the exit. On the last east-west ridge, a narrow mountain path led to the sect built against the back of the ridge—the Yanming Sect.

At the foot of the ridge, Sun Zikai sold the cart. The three carried their parcels and began climbing. The first stretch was difficult. The two girls used hands and feet, blistering their palms. After half an hour, they climbed about ten feet, but Yang Youshi grew weak and cramped her legs. Sun Zikai looked up—the path ahead was nearly vertical, far steeper than the peaks beside Ansheng Pass, and seemingly endless.

He unpacked, tied Yang Youshi to his chest and Jiang Yujin to his back, then leapt swiftly among the rocks.

Yang Youshi never thought Sun Zikai had such skill. Soon, he stopped leaping and chose to climb, sensing guards nearby. New here, he dared not provoke the sect’s anger.

As he climbed, he told Jiang Yujin, “Take out all the useful things. You can’t show them off anymore.”

Jiang Yujin complied, pulling dozens of items from her bracelet. Sun Zikai, climbing, suddenly felt tired, nearly falling backward. Looking back, he almost spat blood in frustration: “Why didn’t you bring the cart too?”

“Want me to carry it? I don’t mind.”

“Why take so many things?”

“They’re all necessary.”

“Only take what’s essential. Put the rest back.”

“These are essential.”

Sun Zikai sighed, stopping halfway up. After much persuasion, only three items remained: a sword, clothes, and a wooden hairpin.

Jiang Yujin pinned the hairpin in her hair, holding her bundle, mumbling, “Those are really useful.”

At seventy feet high, the girls dared not open their eyes. After another hour, Sun Zikai finally led them over the ridge.

Before landing, Yang Youshi exclaimed, “Big house!”

The misty ridge was layered with divine energy. Eight tall towers stood in all directions, each with stone bells. Thirty-six jade-like buildings soared above the clouds. Golden-trimmed beams shone with the sun and moon’s light. Palaces stood side by side, with crowds like waves in seven tiers.

Ancient trees towered, majestic and imposing. Winding paths led to strange and wondrous places—things the three had never seen or heard of before.

The Crane Forest’s jade dew was too intricate to recall. Green tiles and vermilion eaves led to palaces of osmanthus and orchids.

Jiang Yujin, a princess of a kingdom, felt no novelty but found the cultivation artifacts fascinating. Sun Zikai and Yang Youshi were overwhelmed with awe; their worldview had never encompassed such a realm. Even endless dreaming wouldn’t imagine humans could live like this.

Led by Jiang Yujin down the steps, the three soon reached the rear gate of Yanming Sect.

Only one guard stood there, nodding off. Sun Zikai approached and explained their purpose. The guard wasn’t arrogant but scrutinized them suspiciously.

“I know gatekeepers and their deeds, but the decree always says only those who personally kill four hundred barbarians get this chance. No precedent for replacements. No matter how skilled a gatekeeper is, he can’t kill that many alone. You’re combining kills, right? And how did you kids climb up here?”

It turned out the Yanming Sect cared little about the fourteen cities beyond the ridge. Had they bothered to send someone, they would have known the truth.

Sun Zikai said it took them two days to climb. The gatekeepers had killed the required number. He asked if they could be admitted. The guard gave no great hope but didn’t make things difficult.

The guard sighed, “These past hundred years, gatekeepers had it tough. Though you pooled kills, I admit it. You can enter the sect, but the two girls—forget it.”

Sun Zikai asked, “What rank do I enter at?” This was a known unofficial rule from a Changchen Sect elder.

The guard said, “What else? Fifth rank. Go find some menial job in the outer sect. You’re still a pride to your clan.”

From this, Sun Zikai sensed the man’s disdain. He glanced at the two girls and signaled Jiang Yujin.

Jiang Yujin frowned. Halfway up the mountain, she had been so focused on her things she forgot about the gold. After some searching, she finally found a piece—the same one she’d shown Sun Zikai earlier.

Before she spoke, they saw the guard’s eyes gleam.

“Where... where did this come from?”

Jiang Yujin said, “A family heirloom. We hope the elder grants us a favor—let me and my sister enter the sect.”

“Alright, alright. My quota goes to you two. You’ll enter as second-rank, in the inner sect proper.”

Jiang Yujin pointed at Sun Zikai. “Can he come too?”

The elder hesitated, “I only have two spots.”

Sun Zikai said, “No need. You two go. I earned this chance myself and am satisfied.”

The man accepted the gold, wiping it with joy. He no longer saw three kids but said, “The outer sect youth, go south from the mountain gate to register. Girls, come with me.”

“Elder,” Jiang Yujin said, “I won’t go. I’ll also enter the outer sect. Can my sister enter the sect as first rank?”

Sun Zikai and Yang Youshi were shocked. Youshi quickly said, “I won’t go either.”

The elder turned, curious, and looked her over. “Child, you’re giving up this chance?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm... You can refuse, but first rank is not gained just by this. Child, you...”

Before he finished, Jiang Yujin held up a treasured sword. That sword outweighed the gold easily.

“Who... who exactly are you?”

“I am a refugee, my clan wiped out, only this gold and sword left. Can I exchange them for my sister’s first-rank entry?”

The man examined the sword seriously and said, “I’ll ask.”

He took the sword, formed a hand seal, and tossed it into the sky. The sword turned into a shooting star, piercing the clouds, entering the sect’s interior.

Soon, a voice returned, “Approved.”

The elder then told Yang Youshi, “Someone will come for you shortly.”

Before he finished, a beam of light enveloped Yang Youshi, and she vanished.

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Do you still want to go to the inner sect? My quota is open.” The elder, reluctant, stroked the gold.

Sun Zikai was about to speak when Jiang Yujin said, “I’ll go to the outer sect. Please keep the gold. My sister is alone and inexperienced; she’ll need your care.”

“Very well.” The man pointed them in a direction. Sun Zikai and Jiang Yujin set off.

On the way, Sun Zikai frowned, “You...”

Jiang Yujin interrupted, “I can get it back. Didn’t you see his expression? Do you think he’d give it easily? Idiot.”

Sun Zikai said, “Then why not have him take us both to the inner sect?”

“You’re not going to the inner sect?”

“Because only two spots, so I’m out.”

“You want to go?”

“Of course.”

“You’re an idiot!” Jiang Yujin tugged Sun Zikai back toward the gate, but the man was gone, replaced by a new face.

The two had no choice but to leave through the outer gate. They walked in silence for dozens of steps before Jiang Yujin cursed “idiot” more than ten times. Soon, they saw the outer gate sign.