Chapter 1

Volume 1 Chapter 1: The Fall of the Great Spear

Hebei, in a small county town that takes forever to find on a map.

She looked through the car window at the night market covered in dust and grime, the roaring clamor carrying far into the distance, the street thick with the pungent smell of poppy pods drifting out from hotpot restaurants.

The boss by the barbecue stall had a greasy, shining face, and passersby wrapped their coats tight as they walked through the thick smoke.

Cramped, sluggish, cold and coarse.

“Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou are this country’s illusion; small county towns are this country’s truth.” The woman had heard people say things like this before. She had just never felt it so deeply.

This was probably her last chance. She sighed and said:

“This is the place, Uncle Bai. Let’s get out.”

The wind was strong in the north this time of year. The woman wrapped herself in a loose trench coat that hid the curves of her body. Behind her followed a man in his thirties, standing straight and rigid, with a neat crew cut.

The two walked one after the other into a shabby audio-video store.

This dying trade was truly a rare sight these days.

The old-fashioned television was a bit damp, and a young Dou Wei was screaming hoarsely from the green-tinted screen. It happened to be right at the line: “What you have is your body, moving beauty; what I have is my memory, wonderful feelings.” The lyrics were absolutely filthy.

Stacks upon stacks of wuxia novels were piled everywhere—Liang Yusheng, Gu Long, and even Ni Kuang. In the warm-toned glass cabinet were records and videos of every kind from the end of the last century, along with some blurry, even black-and-white old photos. Teddy Robin, Sam Hui, and Alan Tam holding microphones and gazing at each other, with the words “84 Space Journey Concert” written beside them.

An old-style poster hung on the wall with the three characters “Rouge” written on it. In the picture, Anita Mui, dressed as a man, had brows and eyes as faint as smoke.

“What can I get you?”

The voice was clear and gentle. Not like a coarse northern man at all.

What was truly jaw-dropping was that the owner of such an old-fashioned shop was a tall, thin young man who looked no older than twenty-five. He wore a black T-shirt, and his face was pale.

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Li Yan?”

The woman asked with a smile.

“Ah, I am.”

The girl in the trench coat before him had a high, straight nose bridge, shallow eye sockets, and very pretty features that gave her a striking, heroic air. Her whole person exuded a crisp efficiency.

Li Yan casually glanced at the silent crew-cut man behind the girl and replied.

“I’m a director of the Chinese National Martial Arts Association, from Guangdong. My name is Lei Jing. Lei Hongsheng is my grandfather.”

The woman revealed a mouthful of white teeth.

“By seniority, I should call you senior brother.”

She gripped Li Yan’s hand—warm and strong to the touch.

Li Yan’s eyes seemed covered in a thin layer of dust; only at the name “Lei Hongsheng” did a trace of light show through.

“Oh, sit, sit. The place is small—don’t laugh.”

The woman sat down graciously on a chair nearby, quietly sizing up Li Yan. Her family still kept an old photo of her grandfather and this man from earlier days, but it was hard to connect the sharp, unruly young man in the photo with the owner of this audio-video store before her.

“I often hear Grandpa mention you, senior brother. He always said you were the most talented person he’d ever met.”

The man turned to get the thermos and, while pouring water, asked:

“Is the old man still in good health?”

The woman’s eyes lowered. “He passed away before the New Year.”

Li Yan’s hand was steady—not a drop spilled. He set down the thermos and gave the woman a deep look.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

The woman pressed her lips together and said: “I hope Senior Brother Li can come to Guangdong with me and serve as a consultant for the association.”

Li Yan raised an eyebrow and said:

“You should have heard what kind of person I am, Miss Lei. To put it with some self-awareness, in the martial arts world, the two characters ‘Li Yan’ could be called notorious. Why would you think I could help you?”

Lei Jing was silent for a moment, then smiled beautifully and said:

“Rather than notorious, I’d say infamously fearsome. Those people may not respect you, senior brother, but they will definitely fear you.”

Li Yan couldn’t help but laugh out loud at this.

“Sounds very reasonable. Unfortunately, you’re too late.”

The man raised his cup.

“Miss Lei is an educated person. AML—do you know what that means?”

Lei Jing was stunned for a moment, then a shadow fell over her heart. She ventured: “Acute myeloid leukemia.”

Li Yan took a sip of water. “A month ago I was diagnosed with this disease. Your old man knew—I have no family, no relatives.”

He smiled. “So I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

The woman looked down at her nails for a while before saying dryly: “The medical conditions in the south are much better than here. I also know some well-known foreign doctors. Leukemia isn’t necessarily a terminal illness. Even if you have no siblings, senior brother, it’s entirely possible to find a matching bone marrow donor.”

The woman raised her head, her whole demeanor much sharper now.

“Maybe my coming here has put you in a difficult position, senior brother, but…”

Lei Jing weighed her words. “The association was my grandfather’s life’s work. I can’t just watch it become a tool for some politicians to grab power or profit.”

“You say grab power—”

Li Yan suddenly interrupted the woman. He drained the hot water and toyed with the cup in his hand. He smiled at the woman, and an inexplicable air of menace rose from him.

“Why is it that putting the association in your hands isn’t grabbing power? Can you tell me—what’s the difference between you and those politicians you despise?”

Li Yan’s words were exceedingly blunt, causing the crew-cut man beside them to knit his brows tightly.

The woman’s expression remained calm as she explained unhurriedly: “The National Martial Arts Association was founded by my grandfather alone. I’ve been involved in association affairs since I was sixteen. No one understands it better than I do, and no one loves it more than I do.”

Li Yan shook his head. He set down the cup. “When I shook hands with Miss Lei just now—your hand is very soft. You haven’t trained in martial arts, have you?”

The woman pressed her lips tightly together.

“I was frail growing up, and my family’s techniques are too forceful. So I only practiced some breathing exercises for regulating the qi.”

“So then.” Li Yan lowered his head and suddenly veered off-topic:

“Does Miss Lei like reading wuxia novels?”

Lei Jing was somewhat thrown off by the question. She tried to answer: “Jin Yong?”

“Lao She. ‘The Soul-Severing Spear.'”

The woman clearly didn’t understand what Li Yan meant, but the crew-cut man beside her narrowed his eyes.

“Anyway, a sick man like me really doesn’t have the strength to help you. Thank you for your kindness. If you two want to stay for a meal, I’ve boiled some dumplings. If not, please feel free. Also, light a stick of incense for the old man for me.”

Having said all that, there was clearly no need to continue the conversation.

After a long while, Lei Jing quietly stood up, but she didn’t leave immediately. Instead, under Li Yan’s gaze, she pulled out a business card and placed it on the table.

She said: “Too many people have told me what an arrogant person Li Yan is. They’d never imagine what you look like now, senior brother.”

Li Yan tilted his head and said nothing.

“But my grandfather always admired you. Always. Do you know how he evaluated you?”

Lei Jing looked directly at the man and mimicked her grandfather’s tone.

“‘For those who practice martial arts, one must first cultivate three parts of fierce spirit in the heart. I’ve seen so many youngsters in my life, and only this brat has exactly the right amount—no more, no less—these three parts of fierce spirit.'”

“Whether or not you agree to my request, senior brother, I sincerely hope that these three parts of fierce spirit in your heart have not scattered.”

With that, Lei Jing turned and left with the middle-aged man.

Li Yan sat dazed for a while, then bent down to pick up the two cups of hot water and drank them dry. Only then did he let out a chuckle.

“What a formidable girl.”

He grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose, not caring about the patch of bright red on the paper, and tossed it aside. He flopped back onto the sofa.

“Three parts of fierce spirit… heh.”

Li Yan covered his forehead with his right hand, recalling the spirited, thick-browed old man, and his smile grew somewhat bitter.

“Sorry, old man…”

“Ta.”

A pair of polished black leather shoes stepped onto his floor. Li Yan recognized the owner of those shoes—it was the crew-cut man who had followed behind Lei Jing.

“Is there something else?”

Li Yan sat up and looked up, and immediately felt a chill run down his spine, his chestnut pupils contracting uncontrollably.

The door frame creaked under the grip of the man’s pale fingers. He was hunched over like a beast, the bright red flesh of his face drooping downward bit by bit, sticky with stringy, whitish fascia. His entire face was already festering beyond recognition.

Hearing Li Yan’s question, the man slowly raised his head. His bloodshot eyeballs bulged outward, hideous as a vengeful ghost.

Li Yan drew the cold air bit by bit into his lungs. Accompanied by the intense percussion music from the television screen, came his short, forceful curse.

“Fuck!”