Chapter 24: Infiltrating Wudang

When Li Daniu finally arrived at the gates of the Wudang Sect, driving the carriage under the relentless mockery of Yin Susu, it was already afternoon.

Had Li Daniu not been outmatched by Yin Susu, he would surely have retorted: “You, a martial arts master and second-generation demon, why take your anger out on a humble pancake vendor who volunteered to help? Don’t you need to tend to your wounds? Is the Xuanming Divine Palm just for show?”

A man’s silence is golden—Li Daniu finally understood the meaning of that saying. Before a woman who would kill at the slightest disagreement, especially one whose son is injured and who has suffered humiliation before her husband’s family, what else could he do but remain silent?

Seeing the gates of Wudang, Li Daniu breathed a sigh of relief. Go quickly, you shrew, to see your son.

The two young Taoists stationed at the gate had already been instructed. Upon seeing Li Daniu arrive with the carriage, they hurried forward to take the reins.

“Lady Yin, several elders are in the rear hall. Please follow us there.”

Lady Yin? Yin Susu’s expression changed immediately as she stepped down from the carriage. Clearly, they did not treat her as one of their own. Yet, her son’s condition was pressing, and she needed the Wudang people to help treat his injuries, so she could not afford to offend the Taoist novices. Unlike the coachman she had bullied at will.

“Please, brothers, lead the way,” Yin Susu said politely to the two Taoists after glaring at Li Daniu.

Is this the same person? As Li Daniu pondered, Yin Susu shot him another inexplicable glare, and he relaxed—no, she hadn’t changed, still the same as ever.

If Li Daniu knew what Yin Susu was thinking, he would have stripped off his clothes and shouted, “Come, bully me! Let’s see who begs for mercy first.”

One Taoist led Yin Susu toward the rear hall, while the other, after bowing to Li Daniu, paid him no further heed until someone came to relieve him.

“Who are you…” the Taoist began.

“Oh, my name is Li Daniu. I’m driving the carriage for Zhang the Fifth Hero.” At last, Li Daniu had the chance to change his name; the system’s assigned Liu Er was truly uninspired. He also gave himself a slightly more respectable identity. Compared to a pancake seller, being the coachman for Zhang Cuishan—renowned throughout the land for his iron-brush calligraphy—was much more dignified. Moreover, Zhang Cuishan was the father of Zhang Wuji, the future greatest martial artist. Those who rely on their fathers have nothing on those who rely on their sons.

“Then you’re one of us.” The Taoist, excited at the mention of Zhang the Fifth Hero, felt honored. He had no idea that Li Daniu’s excitement was just relief at no longer being called Liu Er.

“Yes, yes, we’re all family here,” Li Daniu replied happily. Was he now part of Wudang’s inner circle?

“Follow me. Park the carriage in the shed first, then I’ll arrange a place for you to rest. I expect Fifth Uncle will stay longer this time, so don’t worry.” The Taoist spoke much more freely to his own people than to Yin Susu. After all, everyone in the martial world knew Yin Susu was the demoness responsible for paralyzing their Third Uncle. But Li Daniu? He was just a coachman, with no grudges.

“I’m not worried. I’m just here to help out. Wherever the boss goes, I follow,” Li Daniu said, then suddenly realized the problem: soon, Zhang Cuishan would die—was he supposed to follow Zhang Cuishan to his death?

“Pah, pah, pah…”

“Li Daniu, what are you spitting for?”

“Nothing, just a bug got in my mouth.”

Li Daniu looked around in wonder, clicking his tongue in admiration. Compared to modern architecture, Wudang’s buildings seemed modest, yet as the preeminent martial sect, with over a thousand disciples and servants, these structures had a unique charm.

“Our Wudang is unmatched in the martial world. Our founder, Master Zhang, is recognized as the greatest master under heaven,” the Taoist boasted, seeing Li Daniu’s curious glances and thinking he was unsophisticated, especially since Zhang Cuishan was rumored to live in seclusion. He began extolling Wudang’s virtues.

Li Daniu nodded along, praising the Taoist. Despite being just a young novice, he was a true disciple of Wudang, trained in martial arts—someone like Li Daniu would be no match for him.

After parking the carriage in the shed and untying the reins, Li Daniu led the horse into the stable. Wudang, being a great sect, lacked neither horses nor professional stable hands.

“I’ll arrange a place for you to rest. Though Wudang is the largest sect, we don’t have many rules, so make yourself at home. But you must avoid two places: the rear hall, where the elders live—though they’re generally amiable, you’re a stranger, and if you do something improper and are punished, it would be needless trouble. The other is the Hall of Transmission. Even though you’re with Fifth Uncle, you’re not a formal disciple. As the saying goes, ‘The law is not taught to the sixth ear.’ In the martial world, learning skills without permission is taboo. If you’re caught in the Hall of Transmission, it would trouble Fifth Uncle.”

“Don’t worry. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s following rules—family tradition,” Li Daniu said. He certainly wouldn’t wander into the rear hall; he knew that Wudang was entering a tumultuous period, and if he was conscripted to fight Ming Cult, he’d likely not survive the next scene. As for the Hall of Transmission, he wouldn’t even consider it. As a modern man, reading classical Chinese was exhausting enough, let alone deciphering esoteric martial arts manuals. Even being taught directly, he might not grasp it. If it were just for learning forms, he could already perform the highest level of Wudang’s Taiji, but what use was that?

“That’s good,” the Taoist said. After explaining, he couldn’t help but ask, “I’ve heard the land is rife with war and chaos; you traveled with Fifth Uncle—did anything exciting happen?”

“Well… You’re a Wudang disciple; shouldn’t you know such things?” Li Daniu was not from this world—how could he know any exciting stories?

“I’ve trained on the mountain since childhood, never even been to the market below, so I wouldn’t know. The elders often go down, but they seldom share stories from the martial world,” the Taoist admitted, a bit embarrassed. Though he could best ten Li Danius in combat, he had no worldly experience.

There were many like this Taoist in every sect of this era. Because of war and hardship, orphans were everywhere. When returning to the sect, martial heroes often brought a few along. First, they needed labor—after all, even heroes had to eat, but they couldn’t farm themselves, so they needed hands. Second, training from childhood improved martial efficiency and loyalty, being raised with constant indoctrination in the sect’s ideals. When asked to die for the sect, hesitation was rare.

“There are so many stories, I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Li Daniu realized the ancient wisdom: one lie breeds a thousand others. Had he said he was Liu Er from the market below, the Taoist would never have asked about the martial world.

“That’s wonderful. When you’re free these days, I’ll come find you, and you can tell me about the outside world, so when I venture out, I won’t be clueless,” the Taoist said excitedly.

Li Daniu respected the Taoist only because of his fighting prowess and local influence—he’d need to rely on him, so best not to offend. But at heart, the Taoist was merely a fourteen-year-old child, whom in modern times would still be in middle school.

“No problem, but I wonder when I’ll see Fifth Hero Zhang,” Li Daniu worried that Zhang Cuishan might tell the Wudang people the truth—that he was just a pancake vendor from the market, which would mean he couldn’t stay on Wudang Mountain.

“That I don’t know. Fifth Uncle has stayed in the rear hall since his return, supposedly to recover from his injuries.”

As Li Daniu tried to pry more information from the Taoist, a bell tolled.

“Something’s wrong—trouble is brewing. Stay here and don’t wander; I must go to the front hall,” the Taoist said, his expression changing not from fear, but excitement. He’d never heard the bell that signaled trouble before.

“Can’t you take me along? I’m part of Wudang, too,” Li Daniu said, recognizing the situation—the Five Great Sects were about to besiege Wudang, pressing Zhang Cuishan and his wife for Xie Xun’s whereabouts. How could he miss such a spectacle?

“Do you know martial arts?”

“No.”

“Then you’re just courting death.” The Taoist replied impatiently, then dashed toward the front hall with a speed rivaling Bolt.

Li Daniu was not seeking death; he knew well that aside from Zhang Cuishan and his wife’s suicide, no one would be harmed this time. As the Taoist’s figure vanished, Li Daniu hurried after him.

“Wait for me! I can help make up the numbers!”