Chapter Ten: The Blue Lotus Sect

His heart was troubled, yet if he were given another chance, Han Tan Yi knew he would still make the same choice. Whenever he saw that woman unhappy, he felt even more miserable than she did. So, to bear such a burden—even to brave a mountain of blades or a sea of fire—he would not hesitate in the least. Perhaps this was a kind of resolve, though he could not tell whether it was right or wrong. Thinking of this, the man could not help but take another drink. Though the wine was not particularly strong, it gradually brought a dizzy sensation over him, clearly affecting his head. His eyes felt heavy, barely able to stay open. In a haze, he saw the door open, a cold wind rushing in and swirling across his face, its chill forcing his eyes open a little wider.

At the threshold, a figure began to come into focus. Unable to see clearly, Han Tan Yi only felt that the person bore some resemblance to the woman in his memories, yet there was something subtly different. He softly murmured “Butterfly” and collapsed.

Being drunk is a miserable experience, especially for a man. The agony is not so much from the effects of the wine as from the turmoil within his heart. So, when Han Tan Yi finally woke, his head was throbbing painfully. A deep sense of regret swept over him, as if he had done something he ought not to have. Indeed, it was his first time being so recklessly drunk. He clutched his head in his hands, trying to ease the discomfort. As his eyes fluttered open, disbelief flooded his expression.

This was no ordinary inn; it was a completely different scene. The walls, their material unknown, were adorned outside with what seemed to be gold dust, dazzling to the point that his eyes could barely stand the glare. The phrase “resplendent with gold and jade” seemed apt. Sunlight filtered through a slanted window, its morning rays weak, perhaps not as bright as the walls themselves. He pushed himself up slightly and was startled by an unfamiliar softness beneath his hand—a sensation he had never felt before. Looking down, he saw himself lying on a bed covered in white sheets. He could not tell what material it was, but his own clothes remained unchanged, making him feel out of place in such surroundings.

Where is this place? The question burst into Han Tan Yi's mind. He recalled the events of the previous night, remembering clearly that he had been in the tavern. Why had he suddenly appeared here? Was he dreaming? Yet everything felt so real. He pinched his thigh, and a sharp pain pierced through him, confirming that this was not a dream, but reality. He pulled back the covers, intending to rub the spot he had pinched, but before his hand reached it, his eyes caught a wound on his thigh—a clear gash that left him utterly bewildered.

“You're finally awake, young man!” In such a scene, no matter how clever one might be, it was impossible to piece together what had happened. Han Tan Yi could only recall, in his last moments, seeing a figure at the door—a slender presence, likely a woman. Though she resembled Butterfly somewhat, it could not be her. As for Qiu Wan’er, no one could be more certain than he. One drunken night had landed him here, but what had happened in between? And what was the story behind the wound on his leg? These unanswered questions swirled in his mind, leaving the young man at a loss for any breakthrough. Just then, a familiar voice came from outside the room.

It was familiar because it was a man’s voice, presumably Old Su from the inn. Han Tan Yi’s first thought was that Old Su had been brought here as well. But on second thought, he realized something was off: the water jar, the lotus, and the sword had all been aimed at Old Su. If he himself was involved, perhaps it was only by chance, caught in the crossfire. As he paused, two figures entered the room. Han Tan Yi had guessed right—the one in front was indeed Old Su. Yet, at this moment, Old Su had changed his attire; his once-ordinary clothes were now adorned with gold and silver, radiating splendor. Even his face, under such light, appeared younger, almost as if transformed into another person. He moved slowly, and his leg seemed to limp slightly. Han Tan Yi's intuition told him that Old Su’s leg bore a similar wound to his own; otherwise, he would not walk in such a manner.

At least there was someone familiar. The doubts in Han Tan Yi’s heart had been seeking an outlet, and now there seemed a chance. Seeing Old Su’s manner, Han Tan Yi felt he must know something, for he would not be so composed otherwise. Behind him followed a girl of seventeen or eighteen, her face half-veiled in a delicate green scarf, making it hard to see her clearly. Yet her figure was graceful, and the white gauze trailing to the floor lent her an ethereal aura that invited a second glance. Instinct told him she was exceptionally beautiful, her steps light, her gaze dazzling.

“Old Su, what is going on? Weren’t we in the tavern? Why are we here?” Seizing the opportunity, Han Tan Yi did not want to let it slip. He was a straightforward person—if he had questions, he demanded answers. At his inquiry, Old Su’s expression flickered with panic for a moment, but he quickly masked it, his face returning to calm. His voice was deep as he spoke, “Here, you should address me as Master Zuo. As for why you and I are here, it’s simple: the Saintess brought us herself. This is the Blue Lotus Sect, and you are now a disciple of the Blue Lotus Sect.”

“Blue Lotus Sect disciple”—these words left Han Tan Yi speechless. He glanced around, uncertain if he sought to confirm his situation or find clues to refute Old Su’s claim. Yet it was clear this was futile. The blue lotus in the water jar, the lotus emblems on the walls and pillars, even the lotus leaves on the bedding—all pointed to something undeniable. He dared not think further, for the wound on his thigh, turned upside down, was unmistakably the bud of an unopened flower. How could this be? This was the scene Han Tan Yi found hardest to accept, yet it was now reality.

The Blue Lotus Sect was no virtuous organization; its infamy was notorious throughout the martial world. Every imaginable evil seemed linked to this mysterious sect: kidnapping, banditry, and countless atrocities. Worse still, its members were said to kill without blinking. The massacre at Chujiang Hall—seventy-six lives lost—the bloody sweep of eighteen disciples at Qingyun Gate, all attested to its cruelty. In the eyes of the martial world, the Blue Lotus Sect was unforgivable, beyond evil, and no term could capture its depravity. Two years ago, the masters of Mingyue Mountain, Hanshan Valley, Qilian Mountain’s slopes, Donghua Gate, and other righteous sects had joined forces to destroy the Blue Lotus Sect’s main temple on Sanlang Mountain. That battle claimed countless lives; Donghua’s master, Ye Hanshan, died on the spot. Afterward, the Blue Lotus Sect was believed to have vanished from the martial world, never to be seen again. Yet now, it had appeared here, just outside Xinyang City.

“You say this is the Blue Lotus Sect—how is that possible? Isn’t the Blue Lotus Sect—” Han Tan Yi’s words were cut off as Old Su gave him a subtle wink, its meaning unmistakable. Han Tan Yi understood and quickly closed his mouth, saying no more. Old Su then turned and gestured to the girl behind him to leave. Though she hesitated, she inclined her body in a gesture of assent and walked out slowly. With her departure, only Old Su and Han Tan Yi remained in the room. It was clear that the moment the girl left, Old Su’s demeanor relaxed considerably. Seated at the bedside, he heaved a deep sigh and glanced toward the door. Though he saw no one, Old Su knew the girl hadn’t gone far, for the light at the doorway would be brighter without someone standing there. Clearly, they were still under surveillance.

“Young man, keep your voice down. Ask whatever you want, and I’ll tell you everything. This is Blue Lotus territory; we must be careful, and not let them see any sign of weakness.” Before Han Tan Yi could speak, Old Su urgently prompted him, his tone cautious, as if engaged in something perilous. In such circumstances, Han Tan Yi understood well. Though his heart was turbulent, he was no fool, and knew how best to act now. Lowering his voice, he quietly asked, “What is really going on?”