The road from Willow Bridge wound through green hills, where the cries of crows mingled with the ringing of iron from distant forges. Spring fields shone with new growth, yet the air carried the tension of unseen storms.
Yun Liang walked at a leisurely pace, a folding fan in one hand, his sword strapped carelessly at his back. To any passerby, he seemed no more than a wandering gentleman, perhaps on his way to another poetry gathering. His robe was spotless despite the dusty road, his smile calm as though the world were his host.
At the Red Crane Inn, where merchants and martial wanderers gathered, Yun Liang took a seat by the window. His gaze drifted, half-focused, across the room where disciples of two rival sects—Azure Cloud and Iron Saber Alliance—sat at separate tables, each group loud in its boasting.
One Azure Cloud disciple recited verse:
"The Azure Sword pierces the firmament,All blades bow before the heavens!"
The Iron Saber men roared with laughter. Their leader, a burly fighter with scars across his jaw, slammed his cup. "Swords are for women and scholars. A saber needs no poetry—only blood!"
The two groups shouted back and forth, the air thick with rising heat. Patrons leaned away nervously.
Yun Liang flicked his fan open, signaling the innkeeper. "Wine for both tables, on this humble one's account."
The disciples blinked. The innkeeper, delighted, hurried to serve. Yun Liang rose, cup in hand, and bowed toward both sides.
"Brothers of Azure Cloud, Brothers of Iron Saber. Surely the river is wide enough for both boats. Let us drink, and may your blades remain sharp."
His courtesy soothed the room. The disciples muttered but raised their cups. Yun Liang smiled and drank deeply, returning to his seat.
Moments later, a loud cough split the air. One of the Iron Saber men spat blood across the floor, collapsing. Another Azure Cloud disciple clutched his stomach, gasping. Chaos erupted as both sides leapt to their feet, blades drawn, accusing each other of treachery.
Yun Liang sat serenely, sipping from his cup. Only he knew the truth: the wine he had ordered came from two separate jars. Into one, he had slipped a tasteless draught that mimicked poison's signs for an hour.
By the time the inn emptied in a storm of steel and curses, Azure Cloud and Iron Saber disciples were swearing vengeance upon each other.
Yun Liang remained at his table, composing a verse in delicate brushstrokes upon the back of a wine bill:
"Wine shared breeds trust,Wine spilled breeds blood.Men quarrel over poison,While the hand that pours smiles unseen."
He left the poem behind, a careless trace. By morning, when rumors spread of the brawl, the name of Gentleman Yun traveled with them—admired by some, suspected by none.
That night, under the pale moonlight, Yun Liang walked alone through the fields. The stars glimmered above, but his gaze was turned inward.
"Azure Cloud. Iron Saber. Two blades striking the same stone. One day, both will shatter, and my family's ashes will finally find peace."
The wind carried his words away, scattering them like seeds across the jianghu.