Chapter Twenty: On the Freedom of Dugu

Old Dugu stripped off his clothes. Despite being a sixty-year-old man, he plunged into the water with a splash. Suddenly, the entire world fell silent; he felt as though he had returned to the womb, resting peacefully in his mother’s belly. Just as he felt the suffocation becoming unbearable, he opened his eyes to see Meng Xiaoli swimming like a mermaid at the bottom of the lake. Countless small fish gathered around her, and she mimicked their graceful movements, blending in to chase and play. She darted across the lake floor, vanished into the shadows, only to reemerge from another direction, growing larger as she approached, then flipping away, only to return with a flick of her hands.

Meng Xiaoli surfaced now and then to catch her breath, calling out to Old Dugu, "Do you see? How free the lake fish are." Old Dugu surfaced as well, wiping the water from his face and taking a few deep breaths before replying, "The lake fish are not free, so how could I be?" He vaulted onto the shore, wiping himself dry and straightening his clothes. Meng Xiaoli, with only her head visible above the surface, asked, "Why are they not free?"

Old Dugu gestured toward the lake and said, "A fish at the bottom of the lake might be eaten by a larger fish at any moment, and that large fish might be eaten by a human at any moment. How can there be freedom without control over one's own life and death? Furthermore, a fish in the water knows nothing of the land or the sky—just as you and I know nothing of the heavens beyond our heavens or the lands beyond our lands. If that is the case, how can one even speak of freedom?"

Meng Xiaoli flew out of the lake, landing before Old Dugu. She wiped the water from her face and said excitedly, "The fish may not know the world outside the water, but you do. You are far freer than the fish."

Seeing Old Dugu shake his head, Meng Xiaoli grabbed his wrist and set off at a brisk pace, climbing and trekking until the wind had dried their clothes.

They reached a high mountain peak, surrounded by layers of clouds and mist, where only countless mountain tips pierced through, making it feel like a celestial realm. Old Dugu felt only a deep sense of solitude.

Meng Xiaoli pointed to the summits and said, "The lands beyond, you can measure with your own feet. No matter how high the mountain or how far the road, you can go there. Is this not freedom?" Upon hearing this, Old Dugu tapped into his lightness skill and drifted toward another peak. In an instant, he appeared as a mere red speck leaping between summits, landing effortlessly on each. When he flew back, his expression was calm and his breathing steady.

Yet, Old Dugu felt no joy. He remarked, "The mountain peak is there; if I can climb it, ten thousand others can too. I leap from the peak, but an ordinary person can climb from the base—it is merely a matter of time. What does mountain climbing have to do with freedom?"

Meng Xiaoli scratched her head, then caught sight of a Great Peng bird soaring in the sky, its wings spanning over ten meters. A thought struck her, and she pointed to the bird. "You can soar through the nine heavens just like that Great Peng. You can go even to the heavens beyond the heavens. Is this not freedom?"

Old Dugu grabbed Meng Xiaoli and leaped onto the back of the Great Peng. As the bird ascended toward the clouds, Old Dugu rode along. Seeking to shake off its passenger, the bird tucked its wings and tumbled in mid-air, plummeting from the sky. Meng Xiaoli clung tightly to Old Dugu’s waist, her face turning pale and her lips purple from the sheer velocity. Old Dugu tapped his toes against the bird’s spine, using the force to launch himself back to the mountain peak. Seeing the humans depart, the Great Peng unfurled its wings, let out a sharp cry, and vanished into the sky.

Meng Xiaoli sat on a blue rock on the summit, her legs trembling, still shaken. Old Dugu shook his head in disappointment. "If the Great Peng does not soar, it dies. I can only borrow its wings for a fleeting moment—what kind of freedom is that? I am like the bird; if I change my way of survival, I perish. How can one speak of freedom then?"

Meng Xiaoli furrowed her brows, spread her hands, and asked, "Then what, in your opinion, is freedom?" Old Dugu gazed into the mountain mist and sighed, "A person must spend the first forty years of their life in hard labor just to stand tall for the next forty. By the time I reached the pinnacle, I was already old; I have lost the freedom of time. Without absolute power, I am forced to bow and submit when I am weak; I have no freedom of action. Having never been taught by a master, my thoughts are constrained, and that, too, is not freedom. Now, I possess great martial skill, but without money, how can I earn the world's respect or gain true freedom?"

Meng Xiaoli comforted him, "These are the pursuits of commoners and should not be your aspirations. There are things we can discard. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be a lonely, noble soul, devoid of desire?"

Old Dugu countered, "So I should remain unmarried, take no disciples, leave no descendants, crave no wealth, seek no status, and look down on everything? To discard all things in this world, so as to gain neither sorrow nor joy from them?"

"Does not possessing things mean you must possess them to the extreme?" Meng Xiaoli asked anxiously.

"Without extreme possession, one cannot attain true freedom!" Old Dugu raised an eyebrow, spread his hands, and stared fixedly at Meng Xiaoli. She felt a lump in her throat, and after a long silence, she said, "At least you are freer than I am, right?"

To her surprise, Old Dugu threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Right, right, right! I am freer than the lake fish, freer than the Great Peng, and freer than you." He looked at her with an expression that seemed to ask, "And so what?" Unable to answer, Meng Xiaoli averted her eyes, crouched down, wrapped her clothes tightly around herself, and stared blankly at the peaks amidst the clouds.

Old Dugu rubbed his stomach and sighed, "After all this trouble, I am hungry. I must go down the mountain. Although I saved you, I ask for no reward. Let us part ways here." With that, he turned to descend. Meng Xiaoli, unwilling to be left behind, followed closely. They leaped down the mountain, light on their feet, and headed straight for Huai'an Prefecture. Unlike Qingzhou, the further south they traveled, the more bustling it became; where there are people, there are markets and prosperity.

Meng Xiaoli used a silver ingot left behind by the Crown Mane Gang to buy new clothes, found an inn to soak in a bath, and enjoyed a hot meal.

Afterward, she found Old Dugu drinking tea in a tea house and sat at his table. Ignoring his surprised look, she kept her eyes on the flowing crowds in the street.

Suddenly, a group of men in dark brown robes, each carrying a pair of axes on their backs, came aggressively toward the tea house. Meng Xiaoli felt that their attire was similar to the lecherous thieves on the mountain, and their weapons confirmed her intuition. She looked at Old Dugu with alarm.

Old Dugu had clearly noticed them, but he remained calm, watching the bustling street outside the window. "Yuan Bao, the leader of the Crown Mane Gang. Although their headquarters are in Songjiang Prefecture, their shops are everywhere in Huai'an. Qingzhou has been ravaged by disasters, and the construction of the imperial palace has devastated the northern people. They are destitute and living in misery. Yuan Bao has no business in the north, so I don't know why those boxes of silver ingots were being transported to Qingzhou."

The dark-clad men from the Crown Mane Gang thundered up the stairs, heading straight for Meng Xiaoli. The leader approached her, held up a silver ingot, and asked with hatred, "Was this the silver you spent?"

Meng Xiaoli looked at Old Dugu in a panic. Old Dugu took a sip of tea and turned to the man. "Bring it closer; let me see." The man refused to move closer, throwing the ingot at him instead. "Our Crown Mane Gang ingots all have our mark. This batch was meant for Qingzhou, but it never arrived. Why is it in your hands? Explain yourself. Where are our transport men, and where are the boxes of silver now?"

Old Dugu examined the ingot, unable to discern anything specific, but guessed that they had been tracked after Meng Xiaoli spent the money. He tucked the ingot into his robe and said, "That's right, your great-grandfather spent it."

The leader raged, "How arrogant! My great-grandfather has been dead for years!" Old Dugu smirked, "But I am still alive, am I not?" The man raised his axes in a fury, still asking, "Tell me, where is the silver? Once you tell me, I shall kill you." The absurdity of the statement made even Meng Xiaoli stifle a laugh.

Old Dugu listened to the gang members' questioning and asked with a smile, "If you want the silver, do you not care about the life and death of your fellow disciples?"

"Of course I want both! Tell me where they are!" The man was exasperated, and his followers prepared to strike. Old Dugu deliberately took his time. "The silver is discarded in a ruined temple on Renyu Mountain in Qingzhou. If you go too late, it might be looted by passersby. As for the men, they are all piled up in the forest behind the mountain."

"Nonsense!" the man roared. "Our men went to that temple on Renyu Mountain, and there was nothing there." Old Dugu spread his hands with a shrug. "That I don't know. Perhaps passersby took it. You know, people in Qingzhou are on the verge of cannibalism; they would go mad if they saw boxes of silver. What we have on us is what we took a long time ago."

The man asked again, "Then do you know how our transport men died?" Old Dugu did not hesitate. "I killed them." Everyone present exchanged shocked glances. The leader gripped his axes and pursued, "Why did you kill my men?" Old Dugu gestured toward Meng Xiaoli with his chin and said truthfully, "Your gang members were about to commit atrocities against her; naturally, they deserved to die."

The man struck a pose and roared, "What my disciples do is none of your business!" With that, they all raised their axes and charged at Old Dugu.

Seeing this, Old Dugu simply splashed the tea from his cup to his side. The soft, liquid tea hit the leader with the force of a tidal wave, knocking him flat to the ground. Blood spilled from his mouth, and when his clothes were pulled back, a large bruise was visible on his chest. The droplets that splashed onto the other gang members hit them like stones, knocking them all to the ground.

The remaining followers were stunned. It was hard to believe that a cup of tea could defeat these strong men. They hesitated, but then prepared to charge again. Old Dugu refilled his cup, dipped his middle finger in the water, and flicked it at the approaching men. The droplets flew like short arrows, striking their chests. Each man felt a sharp pain and retreated, bewildered, finding a bruise on their chest where they had been struck.

Seeing that they were not seriously injured, they prepared to attack again, but the leader stopped them, whispering, "A cup of soft water used with such force—this man's internal energy is not to be underestimated. He must be a martial arts master. We cannot act rashly or we will suffer. Let us return and report to the leader first."

Watching the gang members retreat, Old Dugu shouted after them, "Go back and tell your master that it was Old Dugu who did the killing. Let's see if he dares to come for revenge." True enough, the men never returned.

Meng Xiaoli thanked Old Dugu repeatedly for shielding her, but he only replied, "This matter concerns both of us, but from now on, do not follow me." With that, he flicked his sleeves and walked away.