Chapter Ninety-Four: The City of Shadows and the City of Light

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PS: Six updates!!! Little Six, keep it up.

As the Tingyun horse carried Jiang Pingchuan swiftly through a dense grove, the horse suddenly stopped. Jiang Pingchuan leapt down and followed the Tingyun horse to an old tree by the roadside. The horse tapped its hoof at the roots, and Jiang Pingchuan crouched to feel the spot it indicated, glancing around to take in the surroundings. Rising with a gentle smile, he patted the horse’s mane, mounted once more, gave a soft command, and the Tingyun horse neighed, returning to the road and hurtling again toward Yin-Yang City.

Night had fallen by the time Jiang Pingchuan reached Yin-Yang City. The Tingyun horse, famed for its thousand-mile days, had finally made it to the capital’s second line of defense, for the distance between each was vast. Such a layout served to protect the royal capital: even if enemies broke through the first defense, Dongzhou City, and rushed onward, they would arrive at Yin-Yang City thoroughly exhausted. In such a state, the garrisoned troops could seize the moment when the enemy’s morale flagged to strike with thunderous force, scattering the invaders utterly. These three lines of defense were crucial to the capital’s safety.

Jiang Pingchuan dismounted, patted the Tingyun horse’s neck, and with a low growl, the horse turned and vanished into the night. Jiang Pingchuan stroked the little fox nestled in his coat and headed toward Yin-Yang City. As he neared the city gates, he quickened his pace—unexpectedly arriving at the very moment when the city was about to close its gates. Ten guards were struggling to push the heavy doors shut as he approached.

“Wait a moment,” Jiang Pingchuan called out, waving. The soldiers turned, eyeing the white-clad newcomer with suspicion. At this hour, no one should be wandering about Yin-Yang City. The city was so named because the city by day and by night were two different worlds. Jiang Pingchuan knew this—before him stood the gate to the Yang City; once it closed, the Yin City would open. If he failed to enter the Yang City now, he would be forced into the Yin City instead.

Before he left, Lord Gong had warned him repeatedly to be sure to enter the Yang City. When Jiang Pingchuan asked why, the old rascal shamelessly replied that he knew the lord of the Yang City, while claiming no acquaintance at all with the lord of Yin City.

“Who are you?” one of the guards demanded warily. Jiang Pingchuan smiled.

“I’ve come from Dongzhou City and need to enter the Yang City. I hope you’ll permit me,” he said, bowing respectfully.

The guard looked him up and down, as if searching for something. Suddenly, a cold wind swept through, sending a chill down Jiang Pingchuan’s back, and a group of people appeared not far off—some driving carriages, others carrying loads, children in arms, all chattering and laughing as they approached. Abruptly, one of the soldiers grabbed Jiang Pingchuan’s hand and dragged him inside the gates, fear etched on his face.

“Hurry up and help!” the soldier shouted, yanking Jiang Pingchuan into the city. He quickly joined the others, pushing at the still-open gates. Seeing Jiang Pingchuan standing idle, the soldier barked irritably, and Jiang Pingchuan, embarrassed, stepped up to the doors.

Boom... Creak... Bang...

Jiang Pingchuan strode up to one of the doors, pushed aside a soldier, and with a kick, slammed the gate shut. The other soldiers promptly withdrew their hands from the remaining door.

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Jiang Pingchuan smiled and delivered another swift kick—the second door crashed shut with a groan, joining the first. In that instant, he glimpsed the crowd outside still approaching, but saw their feet were floating above the ground. It was clear they were the denizens of the Yin City. Although known as a single city, Yin-Yang City was in fact divided into two: the Yang City and the Yin City. Jiang Pingchuan checked the time; it was already the hour of the rooster—precisely the moment the Yin City opened.

The ten soldiers, still shaken, glanced at the time. Had they been a moment later in closing the Yang gates, another conflict between the two cities might have erupted. Once, the two city lords had been on good terms, but for reasons unknown, a rift had grown, and they had forbidden all contact between their peoples.

“My friend, we truly owe you just now. May I ask your name?” The soldier who had questioned Jiang Pingchuan clasped his hands respectfully. Jiang Pingchuan smiled—these guards made a far better first impression than those of Dongzhou City.

“I am Jiang Pingchuan, a newcomer to Yin-Yang City. I nearly caused a disaster just now—please forgive me,” he replied, bowing slightly. As he spoke, he noticed the others staring at him in surprise, as if they had been waiting for him all along.

“So you are Jiang Pingchuan, the sworn brother of Lord Gong from Dongzhou City?” one soldier exclaimed in awe. Jiang Pingchuan nodded at first, but when he heard the latter half, he nearly choked. Since when had he become that old man’s sworn brother?

It seemed that word of his deeds in Dongzhou City had already spread here. While he was exasperated by Lord Gong’s loose tongue, it did mean arrangements had been made for him in Yin-Yang City. He would only need to report to the City Lord’s residence, wait for Tingyun horse to finish its business, and then continue on to Storm City. Perhaps he should thank that old gossip after all.

“I am indeed Jiang—” he began, only to be interrupted by another soldier, who declared proudly, “You needn’t say more—I recognized you at once!” The man’s manner was not unlike Lord Gong’s.

“Oh, really? How did you know?” another soldier challenged skeptically, ignoring Jiang Pingchuan’s attempt to explain. The first soldier straightened up and replied, “First, he’s dressed all in white; second, he’s handsome and dashing; third, he possesses great strength. Isn’t that enough to confirm he’s Jiang Pingchuan?” Several others nodded in agreement.

But just as Jiang Pingchuan thought the matter settled, another question arose. Someone joked that Lord Gong had said Jiang Pingchuan never wore undergarments—though none dared verify this, as Jiang Pingchuan was a formidable figure, and even the combined might of both city lords might not suffice against him. No one had the courage to check for themselves.

Hearing this, Jiang Pingchuan was furious. He turned and strode off, ignoring the ten soldiers, and made his way alone to the main street of Yang City. The sky was not yet completely dark, and the streets still bustled with people. With the little fox nestled in his coat, Jiang Pingchuan began searching for an inn.

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He vowed that the next time he saw Lord Gong, he would beat him half to death. That old man had never even seen him undressed—where had that rumor come from, if not from the old rascal’s deliberate slander?

The ten soldiers argued among themselves for some time, until one suggested they simply ask Jiang Pingchuan directly about his undergarments. But when they turned, he was already gone. Stunned, they looked at each other in dismay—there was no sign of Jiang Pingchuan. Panic set in, not over his undergarments, but because they had lost track of such an important guest. Instead of searching for him, they began blaming one another for the mishap, bickering until dusk had fully fallen. Crestfallen, they shouldered their spears and trudged toward the City Lord’s residence, fearing the worst should the young lord discover their blunder.

Meanwhile, Jiang Pingchuan walked the streets, when a familiar figure caught his eye—it was the old scholar from Sanjiang County, sweeping the ground with a broom. Jiang Pingchuan approached and tapped the man’s shoulder, but to his shock, the figure vanished into thin air, as if he had never been there. Jiang Pingchuan was certain he had not mistaken the man, yet now he sensed no trace of his presence. Frowning, he pressed on.

He soon came upon a crowd gathered in front of an inn, shouting and jeering. As he drew closer, a hush fell, and Jiang Pingchuan squeezed through to see a notice posted at the door.

“Raise this stone to your chest and earn a reward of one hundred jade coins—half a month’s stay, free of charge.”

He read the sign, then glanced at the rectangular stone on the ground. It stood nearly as high as his knee and must have weighed well over a thousand pounds. Someone had just attempted and failed, shaking his head in resignation as he slipped away. Jiang Pingchuan watched with amusement as several more tried and failed. The strongest among them had barely managed to lift it to his knees before dropping it, the stone thudding to the ground without so much as a crack, and the man shuffled off, exhausted and disappointed.

“May I give it a try?” Jiang Pingchuan asked with a smile, addressing the inn’s attendant on the steps. The attendant glanced at him and nodded. Murmurs rose from the crowd, skeptical that someone of Jiang Pingchuan’s build would dare attempt what so many strongmen had failed to achieve—after all, even Shi Daniu, famed as the mightiest man of Yang City, had only managed to lift it to his waist.

All eyes were on Jiang Pingchuan as he gently rubbed the little fox in his arms, then gripped the stone’s handle with one hand and lifted it effortlessly. A gasp of astonishment swept through the onlookers, and even the attendant hurried inside, soon returning with an elderly man who gazed at Jiang Pingchuan in amazement.

Jiang Pingchuan calmly raised the stone overhead, glanced at it, smiled faintly, and set it down again. With a helpless shrug, he turned and walked away.