The feud between Azure Cloud Sect and Iron Saber Alliance spread like fire in dry grass. Every tavern echoed with boasts and curses, every roadside inn saw blood drawn over cups of wine. By midsummer, both sects had lost disciples, and the jianghu whispered that old grudges had resurfaced.
Yun Liang walked through the chaos as if through a garden in bloom. In taverns he toasted Azure Cloud men with gentle courtesy; in inns he praised the valor of Iron Saber fighters. To each side he offered words of admiration, always careful to appear neutral, always leaving behind just enough suggestion to deepen their suspicions of the other.
One evening at the Stone Bridge Tavern, an Azure Cloud scholar sat across from him, drunk on both wine and indignation.
"They call us hypocrites," the man slurred, slamming his cup. "Do they not know our sword is forged of the purest qi? The Iron Saber brutes are dogs gnawing on bones!"
Yun Liang smiled, pouring the man another cup. "Perhaps. But dogs bite hardest when they are cornered. And I have heard they prepare to march with three hundred men toward Azure Cloud's mountain gate."
The scholar paled, his cup trembling. "Three hundred? Who told you this?"
Yun Liang leaned close, voice dropping to a whisper. "A beggar by the roadside. They hear what even kings cannot."
The next day, Azure Cloud disciples gathered their forces in haste, preparing for an assault that never came. Meanwhile, Iron Saber men, hearing from their own sources that Azure Cloud planned an ambush, armed themselves and sent challenges.
Both sides sharpened blades against shadows, their hatred fed by whispers carried on the wind.
That night, Yun Liang stood upon the stone bridge, gazing at the moonlit river. A child's laughter drifted from the alleys, beggars traded news in hushed voices, and the scent of blood already tainted the air.
He drew his fan across the surface of the water, scattering the moon's reflection into fragments.
"Azure Cloud. Iron Saber. One sky, two suns. Sooner or later, both must burn."
The river carried his words away. Somewhere in the darkness, a figure watched—an old beggar, smiling toothlessly, pleased with the storm the gentleman had summoned with nothing but wine and whispers.