While the group celebrated their new bond, unaware that danger was still brewing at Ciyun Temple, the monks finally noticed Yuncong was gone. The heavy rain had washed away all his footprints, so they searched everywhere—even stopping at Qiu Lin's tofu shop twice to ask about a young scholar. Qiu Lin lied smoothly, sending them away empty-handed.

  Days later, the monks discovered Zhang and Yuzhen had abandoned their home. They realized the father and daughter had helped Yuncong escape, but by then, it was too late to track them down.

  The group rested at Qiu Lin's shop for a full day. During their conversations, Yuncong learned the truth about the two men: Qiu Lin was known as Divine-Eyed Qiu Lin, one of Mount Emei's Sword Warriors, sent to spy on the temple under the guise of a tofu seller. Zhang's real name was Zhang Qiong—once a famous water bandit called Swallow in the Waves. He'd given up his life of crime years ago, choosing to live quietly as a farmer.

  As his fear faded, Yuncong thought about everything the father and daughter had done for him. He owed them his life—and he couldn't help but notice Yuzhen. She'd been the one to insist on saving him, and over the past two days, he'd grown to admire her: her beauty, her courage, the quiet strength in her eyes. But why was she always frowning, as if burdened by a secret? And why did she and her father sometimes argue in low voices? He couldn't understand.

  The next day, the rain stopped and the wind died down. Before dawn, Qiu Lin and the Drunken Taoist woke them. Outside, four fine horses waited—one for each of them: Zhang, Yuzhen, Yuncong, and Xiao San'er.

  Yuncong hesitated, thinking the Taoist might want a horse. “Master, should I share a horse with Xiao San'er so you can ride?”

  The Drunken Taoist laughed. “I don't need a horse. Hurry—we must leave.”

  Yuncong bowed to Qiu Lin, then mounted his horse with the others. As they trotted away, the Drunken Taoist vanished in the blink of an eye. Yuncong felt a twinge of panic—he hadn't asked where they'd meet again. But that evening, when they stopped at an inn, there he was, sitting by the window, drinking from his red gourd.

  They rented rooms, ate dinner, and then the Drunken Taoist taught Yuncong how to feel the qi surging like a warm river within his meridians and how to focus his body and eyes. Yuncong was intelligent, and he quickly grasped the concepts. Zhang and Yuzhen, both experienced in martial arts, listened closely, hanging on every word.

  Just as the conversation grew lively, the Drunken Taoist's expression turned serious. “Yuncong, I have one more thing to say—and you must listen carefully.”

  “Master, I'm listening,” Yuncong said, sitting up straight.

  “To me, there is no sin greater than betraying those who sacrificed for you,” the Taoist said. “Master Zhang and his daughter risked their lives to save you. When you get home, how will you repay them? Tell me.”

  Zhang opened his mouth to speak, but the Taoist waved him silent.

  “Master, I'll never be ungrateful,” Yuncong said. “My family is wealthy. I'll treat Master Zhang as an honored guest, and I'll ask my parents to give him land and houses for his retirement. Will that suffice?”

  The Drunken Taoist shook his head. “You're wrong. Master Zhang once roamed the rivers and lakes—he's seen more gold and silver than you can imagine. Do you think he saved you for money? Your offer won't repay him; it will insult him. You need a better plan.”

  Yuncong looked confused. “I don't know what to do. Please guide me, Master.”

  “A true man repays great kindness with greater kindness,” the Taoist said, smiling. “Master Zhang has only one daughter—Yuzhen. He risked everything to save you, partly because he saw your talent. You and Yuzhen are the same age, and you complement each other. Let me be your matchmaker. Ask Master Zhang to let you marry Yuzhen. As his son-in-law, you'll stand by his side in his old age—blending your families into one, not out of duty, but out of gratitude and love. It's the perfect way to repay him—and it will make you both happy. What do you say?”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Zhang and Yuzhen exchanged a glance—joy and surprise in their eyes. Yuncong's heart raced. He'd admired Yuzhen since the moment she'd helped him, and he knew she was kind, brave, and skilled in martial arts. Marrying her would be an honor—and a way to repay her father's kindness. He was nervous to speak, his face turning red.

  Yuzhen had begged her father to save Yuncong because she'd been drawn to his kindness and intelligence. Over the past two days, she'd grown to trust him, hoping he might be her husband. But her father was stubborn—he worried their different social statuses would make Yuncong reject her. She'd been too shy to speak up, her heart heavy with worry. Now, the Drunken Taoist had said exactly what she'd hoped for. She bowed her head, her cheeks burning, but her eyes shone with happiness.

  When Yuncong didn't answer, Yuzhen glanced up, fear flickering in her eyes—did he think she was beneath him? Their eyes met, and for a moment, time stood still. Both blushed and looked away, their hearts pounding.

  The Drunken Taoist laughed, seeing their embarrassment. “Master Zhang, I hope you don't mind my boldness. My disciple agrees—now it's up to you.”

  Zhang sighed, smiling. “Ten years ago, after I retired, I fell in love with Chengdu's scenery. I'd met the monks at Ciyun Temple years before, and the garden was quiet—so I rented it to hide my identity. I never thought they'd be so evil.”

  “Last spring, a monk named Mao Tai came. He accused me of being a spy for Mount Emei and told Zhitong to drive me away. Zhitong refused—we'd known each other for ten years, and I kept to myself. He even sent the guest monk Liaoyi to apologize. I thanked him, but I planned to leave soon.”

  “When Young Master Zhou escaped to my garden, I thought he was just a spoiled noble—I planned to help him if I could, but let him fend for himself if not. But Yuzhen insisted we save him, so we fled. I've seen Young Master Zhou's character and talent over these days—and he's your disciple. I'd be honored to have him as my son-in-law. I just wanted to be sure it's what he truly wants.”

  The Drunken Taoist clapped his hands. “Yuncong—stop being shy. Go greet your father-in-law.”

  Yuncong took a deep breath, knelt before Zhang, and kowtowed. “Father-in-law.” He then thanked the Drunken Taoist for his help.

  “Now that it's settled, I can rest easy,” the Taoist said. “You and Yuzhen are engaged—you can call each other brother and sister on the road to avoid gossip. When you get home, tell your parents and marry soon. I have this book—Introduction to Swordsmanship. It teaches the basics of inner and outer martial arts. Practice with Yuzhen after you're married. In two years, I'll come to your home to teach you more secretly.”

  He pulled an old book from his waist, handing it to Yuncong, who knelt to receive it.

  The Taoist then drew a sword from his waist—about 1.2 meters long, its scabbard old but intricately carved, glowing faintly. “This is Shuangtan (Frost Blade), a famous sword from the Warring States period. It cuts through hair and iron like butter, bends without breaking, and can be wrapped around your waist when not in use. It was my weapon before I mastered swordsmanship. I give it to you as a betrothal gift. Guard it well—don't let my kindness go to waste.”

  Yuncong's eyes lit up. He knelt again, taking the sword, and thanked his master. Zhang examined the sword, wiping off a layer of dust. When he pulled it out an inch, its bright blade glinted, sending a chill through the room. He praised it repeatedly.

  Zhang then took a jade pendant from Yuzhen's neck, handing it to Yuncong. “This is our betrothal gift in return.”

  The Drunken Taoist stood up, slinging his gourd over his back. “I have business in Chengdu and can't stay. Remember what I taught you about swordsmanship. I'll be on my way.”

  With a flash, he vanished. The three rushed outside, watching as a white dot flew toward the mountains in the sunlight, their faces filled with awe.

  Yuncong and Zhang talked for a while, then went to rest. The next morning, they mounted their horses, heading toward Yuncong's home—happy, hopeful, and ready to start a new life.

  Back at Ciyun Temple, three days after Yuncong's escape, Zhitong heard that Zhang and Yuzhen had fled. He went to the garden, realizing Yuncong had escaped over the wall. Regret gnawed at him—he'd ignored Mao Tai's warning to drive the father and daughter away, and now he'd let a prisoner escape. He feared Mao Tai's mockery, so he lied to cover his mistake. Meanwhile, he secretly sold the temple's property, planning to flee and build a new lair.

  Mao Tai's eyes narrowed as he listened to Zhitong's excuses, his missing finger twitching with anger. He said nothing, but in his heart, he plotted revenge—against Yuncong, against the Zhangs, and against Zhitong, for his foolishness.