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The bleakness of early autumn had arrived, and the old streets were growing colder by the day.
A chill wind swept across the stone-paved road, stirring fallen leaves into a dry rustling dance across the ground. Accompanied by the creaking groan of wheels, an ox cart slowly emerged from the far end of the street. It seemed edged in gold as the morning sun shone behind it.
On the cart rested three large drums. Each one was over a meter wide, with chipped black lacquer and dark yellow oxhide skins. They were ancient, heavy, and worn. Though aged, they still gave off a powerful presence, as if they could thunder to life at any moment.
But before the cart reached the Dao Inquiry Hall, Li Yan and the others stepped out to meet it.
Wang Daoxuan clasped his hands together and smiled. “Fellow Daoist He, many thanks.”
The driver was an old man with gray hair and deep lines on his face. He sat sideways on the shaft, a dogskin hat on his head as he puffed on a crude pipe.
Seeing Wang Daoxuan, he quickly hopped down, tugged on the reins to halt the ox, then returned the greeting with a smile. “Daoist, you’re too polite. You saved my whole family! What are these worldly things compared to that?”
After leaving the Zhang Family Martial Arts Hall, Li Yan had asked for Qin–Han war drums. But a proper drum took a long time to make. The entire process, from selecting materials to drying and lacquering, was rather lengthy. As such, borrowing was the only option.
Fortunately, Wang Daoxuan knew an old craftsman. The man was from the He Family, and he was also a figure who roamed the jianghu. Not all jianghu folk lived by the blade. Many survived through petty trades like thievery, deception, or craft.
Old Man He had led a drum troupe. Whenever shops opened or major events took place in Xianyang, they performed for tips. Performing arts, storytelling, opera, drum singing… Most of them belonged to the literary arts in the jianghu, which was how he knew Wang Daoxuan.
When he received the request, he decided to personally deliver the drums.
Li Yan thanked him and stepped forward to inspect the drums. They were all old and worn, but well preserved and functional. After some care, they would still command great presence.
He ran his hand across them, growing more fond with each glance.
Drumming the Qin–Han war drums was a local tradition. It was said that retired Qin soldiers passed down their military drum rhythms to villagers, preserving the art across generations. When Qin Shihuang unified the lands and the Han kings started their conquest, such drums had been used to inspire troops.
The old craftsman’s eyes softened at Li Yan’s open appreciation. “I can tell you love drums. Letting you have them is fitting.”
Li Yan quickly waved his hands. “I’m just borrowing them. You use them to make a livelihood. I wouldn’t dare take them.”
“They’re no use to me anymore.” The old man gently stroked a drum, sighing. “When I was young, I dreamed of becoming the Drum King, famous across the land. Hah, that is a lifetime wasted. I barely made a living and neglected my family…
“I wanted to pass them to my son, but because I loved drums, he hates them. He wants to leave for Tianjin and forge his own path. Now, I’ve gotten old. I’ll travel with him for a while, teach him some jianghu rules, and make up for the past.”
Wang Daoxuan frowned. “Brother He, what about your health…”
The old man waved him off. “Returning to one’s roots isn’t so important. Wherever I die is fine. Besides, the war drums that accompanied Qin Shihuang once shook the land. Everywhere under the heavens, wherever is illuminated by the sun and moon, is my home.”
Wang Daoxuan sighed. “Truly open-minded.”
“Haha, not open-minded, I’ve just learned to let go.” With that, Old Man He laughed, waved, and left.
He tried to refuse, but in the end, they pressed some silver into his hands as travel money before watching his hunched figure and creaking ox cart fade into the morning light.
***
In the courtyard, drumbeats filled the air. Li Yan struck lightly with his palm, feeling the vibrations with each thump.
The duel was in two days. There was no time to improve his techniques or experience. His only hope was to grasp the Divine Drum: Thundercloud Resonance. At least, he needed to be able to control hidden force at will.
Thundercloud Resonance was just an amplified resonance. The Qin–Han war drums were the perfect tools to train, since they carried the strongest presence. According to an inherited manual, true training drums required special crafting, from the choice of hide to wood to iron.
Unfortunately, he had no time.
Li Yan sank into a horse stance, drawing his abdomen inward, and expanding and compressing his chest like a bellows. After several breaths, he suddenly opened his mouth.
“Hong!”
That was a sacred syllable in Buddhist and Daoist chants, used to represent the roars of thunder.
Thundercloud Resonance was a secret technique, often trained during storms. Once mastered, it strengthened the body and refined the mind. However, relying on natural thunder to train in it made it difficult to progress. Thus, the Zhou Family’s ancestor had adapted to use drumbeats instead.
As Li Yan shouted, his palm struck the drum.
Boom!
A deep blast echoed through the courtyard.
“Nice!” Sha Lifei clapped loudly.
“Nice my ass.” Li Yan chuckled, then frowned. “This technique is harder than I thought.”
There were three challenges. The first was timing; his voice had to resonate with the drumbeat. The second was his breath, which allowed him to use his body as the drum. Finally, he needed enough control, since exerting too much force would cause him to injure himself.
The first alone would take effort.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Li Yan struck again and again, studying the vibration of the drum.
It didn’t take long for Sha Lifei to grow bored. His eyes darted around, then he cried out, “Well, the food prepared here by Wang Daoxuan is too plain. I’ll head out and get some beef.”
He quickly took his leave. Li Yan, who was completely absorbed in thought, didn’t notice his departure.
Soon, drumbeats resumed intermittently through the courtyard.
***
Meanwhile, Sha Lifei wandered the alleys, checking for anyone who might be spying on them, before slipping away. He avoided main streets, moving through quiet paths.
It didn’t take long for him to reach Paifang Street in the west. Named after an ancient archway, it was filled with taverns, brothels, and gambling houses. It was the liveliest and most chaotic place in Xianyang.
Merchants, warriors, drifters; everyone gathered there. Though it was only the morning and most brothels were still closed, the scent of perfume drifted from open windows. Women in thin clothing occasionally appeared in the windows, combing their hair and doing their makeup.
Sha Lifei didn’t spare them a glance. Instead, he stopped before a two-story building.
Two burly guards stood at the entrance, arms bare despite the cold, wearing leather bracers studded with copper.
Above them hung the sign: Jinbao Gambling House.
Some enjoyed themselves by giving in to their lust, while others loved gambling. It collected many victims, from nobles to commoners. Though the street was quiet, the interior was loud. Clearly, people had been gambling all night.
As Sha Lifei approached, a man was thrown out. He tumbled across the ground, face bleeding.
“Just lend me more… I’ll pay it back double!”
A man in white stepped out. He had thin eyes, broom-like brows, and a cold smile on his face.
“Young Master Lu,” he mocked. “Take my advice. Stop now, you’ve got nothing left.”
“I still have my life!”
“Your life isn’t worth much.”
With a gesture, the guards dragged him away.
Then the man noticed Sha Lifei and immediately smiled. “Ah, Hero Sha! Care for a game?”
Sha Lifei shoved past him. “Get lost.”
He knew the man. He was a con artist. People in his trade worked with gambling dens, luring victims in and cheating them dry. They targeted anyone with weaknesses. Even seasoned veterans could fall victim to them. The very same tactics had ruined the son of the Spring Breeze Troupe.
Inside, the hall was suffused with the smell of smoke, sweat, and chaos. Gamblers with bloodshot eyes crowded around tables, faces as pale as hungry ghosts.
“Damn…” Sha Lifei cursed, then started to yell, “There’s a life-and-death duel in two days, who’s taking bets?!”
The room fell quiet.
“What’s the commotion?!” A door upstairs burst open as a pale short man stepped out. He had white hair all over, down to the thick snow-white beard on his face.
All in all, the best way to describe him was a white ape…
