Out of nowhere, a light rain began to fall, its soft patter washing the blood from Ghostdream Cliff and carrying it down the slope. The unexpected shower seemed to jolt the stunned cultivators of Wulong Mountain back to their senses after a long silence.

Liu Xiaolou wiped the rain from his face. “Dragon Mountain Wanderer!” he shouted. “Dragon Mountain Wanderer!! Old Hu Du! Fairy Huang Ye! Everybody, help! Bury Brother Jiang and the others… Bu San, no. Bu San, help your master! Lingling! What are you spacing out for? Get them out of the rain. Cover them up, don’t let them get soaked… don’t let them get soaked!”

Then he went over to the Guzhang Mountain brothers. “Seniors, please... bury Fourth Uncle.” Sadly, Lu Yuanlang’s tenth victim turned out to be Guzhang Mountain’s fourth brother. Of the seven who once stood together, only four were left now.

GuzhangMountain’s eldest trembled, rain clinging to his eyebrows and beard. “Where…where should we bury him?” he stammered. “Oh... bury him next to Second and Third. Keep them company… keep them company…”

Liu Xiaolou shouted, “All right, carry them to the Sky Pit Drum, now!”

Yun Ao suddenly looked around as if something had just occurred to him. “Wait, where’s your brother? That one they call Tan Bajhang…”

Liu Xiaolou let out a quiet sigh of relief. “He’s out with Brother Zuo. They haven’t come back yet.”

Yun Ao exhaled, tension easing from his face. “That’s lucky… really lucky. And what about Junior Fang? Where’s Junior Fang?”

Liu Xiaolou had already gone looking for Fang Bu’ai, but there’d been no sign of him. He figured the man must still be somewhere near Half-Pine Plateau, which was too well hidden for Lu Yuanlang to find when he attacked in the middle of the night. It made sense that Fang Bu’ai had escaped the slaughter unnoticed.

“Junior Fang should be fine,” Liu said. “He wasn’t here.”

“Good… good,” Yun Ao murmured, visibly relieved.

Not only were Tan Bjhang and Zuo Gaofeng away, but Dai Shenggao, along with the Huang brothers and a dozen others, had taken Boss Wang’s Hero’s Post and gone down the mountain to do some business. The job had taken them farther than usual, and they’d been delayed for some time. Most likely, as was their habit, they’d found a secluded spot to lie low; thus, by pure chance, avoiding this catastrophe altogether.

Now, only about twenty people from Wulong Mountain remained on Ghostdream Cliff. Most of them were still in a daze, their minds numb. They moved mechanically at Liu Xiaolou’s call, lifting and carrying, bringing the bodies of Jiang Feihu, Zhang Shihua, and the others toward the great sinkhole they called the Sky Pit Drum.

That place already held more than a dozen graves of their fallen brothers from the Battle of Zhuoshui. Most were just burial mounds marked by simple stone tablets. A place to mourn, if not to rest. The ones who’d led the effort to build those graves last year had been none other than Jiang Feihu and Zhang Shihua.

A year later, no one could have imagined they’d be the ones buried there next, their own names carved into stone.

Liu Xiaolou said nothing. He just picked up a shovel and started digging. One by one, the others followed his lead. Yun Ao took charge, calling out to Fairy Huang Ye, “Huang Ye Xian, come on, let’s cut some wood for coffins.”

The rain kept falling, soft and steady, until dusk. By the time it stopped, ten new stone markers stood beside the Sky Pit Drum.

Liu Xiaolou looked at the twenty or so people still standing before him. They looked back at him, silent. No one said a word.

After a long moment, Liu finally waved his hand. “Let’s go.”

With that, he turned and started walking away.

It was only then that he noticed. Following behind him wasn’t just Yun Ao. Fang Bu’ai was there too. Liu had no idea when Fang had arrived at the Sky Pit Drum; he hadn’t even noticed him come.

When they got back to Qianzhu Ridge, the sight of the collapsed thatched huts made Liu Xiaolou stop again. He stood there for a long time, saying nothing. Fang Bu’ai came up beside him, fists clenched tight, and said haltingly, “Last night… I was scared. I didn’t dare go to Ghostdream Cliff…”

Liu Xiaolou gave a small smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “Then you did the right thing. What would’ve been the point of going? To die? Junior Fang, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not fearing death doesn’t mean you should throw your life away for nothing. I know that if I’d died, you’d avenge me someday, wouldn’t you?”

Fang Bu’ai nodded hard. “I will… I will…”

Liu Xiaolou turned to Yun Ao. “Brother Yun, I owe you an apology. I really dragged you into this today. Now that things are settled, you should hurry home. Don’t keep your wife worrying.”

Yun Ao frowned. “What about you, Xiaolou? You can’t stay on Wulong Mountain anymore. Where will you go? If you’ve got nowhere in mind, why not come to my White Cloud Manor? We could spend our days together, drinking, talking philosophy. Wouldn’t that be great?”

Liu Xiaolou smiled. “Thank you, Brother Yun. But the Su family already cast me out. If I show up at White Cloud Manor, it might stir up more bad blood. The world’s a big place; there’s always somewhere to go. Don’t worry, when I have time, I’ll come find you and help fix that formation disk of yours.”

Yun Ao scowled. “Formation disk, formation disk. Must you always talk about that thing? Can’t you live without it? We didn’t have one before, and we got along just fine!”

Liu Xiaolou nodded. “You’re right, that was careless of me. Tell you what, if one day I truly have nowhere else to go, I’ll come find you, Brother Yun.”

“Alright then, it’s settled,” said Yun Ao.

After seeing Yun Ao off, Fang Bu’ai asked, “Senior, where are we going to move?”

Liu Xiaolou didn’t answer right away. He told Fang Bu’ai to head into the bamboo grove and cut down a stalk of green bamboo. When Fang returned, Liu had him chop it into short sections, then split each one down the middle, shaping them into small plaques about two inches long and an inch wide.

Once the plaques were ready, Liu Xiaolou used the same engraving technique he employed for formation disks to carve two words “Hero’s Post” onto each one.” Then he dipped his brush in ink to darken the lines.

When the carving was done, he pressed a bit of his true qi into each plaque. That way, no one else could forge them.

After finishing two plaques, Liu Xiaolou handed them to Fang Bu’ai.

“Junior Fang,” he said, “make a trip to Dragon Mountain and Jade Maiden Cave. Give these to Dragon Mountain Wanderer and Fairy Huang Ye. If they refuse the invitations, don’t say a word and just leave. But if they accept, tell them to pack up and come down the mountain within the next couple of days. And make it a grand, showy exit. Aren’t there always patrols from the sects down below? Make sure they see it happen. Six days from now, we’ll meet at the second mountain pass on the southeast side of Wuling Mountain.”

Fang Bu’ai’s face lit up with excitement; his lips even trembled a little. Liu Xiaolou gave him a nudge. “Calm down.”

Fang Bu’ai’s nodded, gripping the Hero’s Posts tightly before hurrying down the mountain.

Liu Xiaolou kept engraving the rest of the plaques. About two hours later, Fang rushed back.

“Senior Dragon Mountain and Senior Huang both accepted,” he reported. “Elder Dragon Mountain asked for two… and Elder Huang... she couldn’t stop crying.”

Liu Xiaolou let out a quiet sigh and nodded. Then he handed Fang Bu’ai five more Hero’s Posts.

“Take one to Li Bushan,” he said. “And deliver the rest to Guzhang Mountain, for Uncles One, Five, Six, and Seven.”

Fang Bu’ai hesitated. “They’re all together. One invitation should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

Liu Xiaolou shook his head. “That’s not how it works. When you’re asking someone to risk their life, everyone deserves their own invitation.”

Fang set off again and returned some time later, reporting, “The four elders at Guzhang Mountain accepted. When I left, they were burying their valuables. Anything else?”

Liu Xiaolou handed him more plaques. “Yes. Go to Gourd Pass, Shudao Ridge, Peach Blossom Mountain, and Majiao Valley.”

By dawn, Fang Bu’ai came back once more, covered in dust. “Daoist Hu Du, Elder Cang Yuntian, Brother Long, and Elder Wan Liming all accepted,” he said. “Daoist Hu Du… was sharpening his blade.”

Liu Xiaolou paused for a moment, then couldn’t help but laugh. What would a cultivator need to sharpen a knife for, anyway? It wasn’t about the blade. Just a way to vent his anger...

He handed the freshly engraved Hero's Posts to Fang Bu'ai, who dashed back and forth delivering them. Liu Xiaolou had done his best to plan the route so Fang could cover one direction at a time, but even so, Fang ended up gasping for breath from all the running.

“Old Cripple and Qi Laoqi took theirs. Both agreed right away…”

“Captain Hu accepted. Lingling Traveler wasn’t around; looks like he might’ve moved…”

“Fan Zheng and Daoist Mu Yi took theirs. Li Fuchen didn’t; he’s getting ready to leave the mountain…”

By the time the engraving was done, it was already afternoon. Fang Bu'ai had been running errands the whole time. Out of twenty-two Hero's Posts, twenty were accepted. A pretty good rate, all things considered.

The two who didn’t accept the invitation didn’t surprise Liu Xiaolou. He knew what they were like. Lingling Traveler was always smooth and evasive. If he wasn’t around, he was probably avoiding trouble for real. As for Li Fuchen, he simply hated getting involved in anything messy; cautious by nature, not exactly the brave type. So their refusals were only to be expected.

Still, with nine out of ten people accepting, maybe everyone already understood what Liu Xiaolou was trying to do. And they were willing to join him.

When all the Hero's Posts were finally sent out, Fang Bu'ai sighed. “Too bad Senior Zuo and Senior Tan aren’t around, and Senior Dai hasn’t come back yet. If they were here, we’d have even more people on our side.”