Chapter 1054: The Final (Part 14)

The world is not at peace.

Fortunately, Hu Jia City, a key town in the northern part of Bao Ping Prefecture, had not yet been touched by the raging war. Moreover, with the influx of many noble families and elites fleeing north from the Southern Dynasties, the city instead presented a morbidly prosperous scene. The Southern Dynasties were on the verge of collapse; the Northern Court was mostly populated by grassland nomads, and the household registration system of the Northern Mang Dynasty had largely collapsed. Whether one had a travel permit no longer mattered. In such troubled times, holding real gold and silver was more useful than anything else. To enter a city for shelter, regardless of one’s status, one had to honestly pay a hefty toll. The amount of the toll was often directly linked to the height of the city’s walls. At this moment, a man who looked like a scholar from the Southern Dynasties walked slowly amid the crowd, with no powerful servants or strong guards accompanying him. His ivory-white satin robe was already dusty and gray, but the passers-by were not surprised. Countless noble disciples from the Southern Dynasties were in such a sorry state—like fallen phoenixes worse than chickens. During their escape, even many beautiful concubines and maids were personally presented to the powerful officials of the Northern Court who held military power. This unshaven man carried neither a sword nor a saber. However, if one took the trouble to look closely—especially a woman of a certain age, more experienced in matters of men and women—she might have noticed that, without his beard, he would have an extremely handsome face etched with vicissitudes.

Nowadays, the entire Northern Mang was permeated with a The prevailing wind of indulging in pleasure while impending disaster loomed. Taking advantage of the misfortune of the Southern Dynasties’ noble families, many wealthy Northern Court women who liked to keep male favorites had reaped rich rewards. Countless young men from the South had become their playthings. Just then, the curtain of a carriage pulled by two sturdy warhorses was lifted, revealing the face of a woman who was not even of average looks. Her eyes wandered, like a falcon spotting prey. After scanning around, she picked out two frail scholars walking together. With a wave of her finger, the burly maid inside the carriage soon went to “solve her mistress’s problem”—she called over the leading knight among the eight guards and whispered a few words.

The knight nodded, spurred his horse, and charged through the crowd without hesitation. He stopped in front of the two panic-stricken young men. The burly knight sat high on his horse, twirling his battle knife lightly, scaring the two men pale. When the knight bluntly stated his mistress’s identity and intentions, then pointed his knife tip at the carriage, the two young men hesitated slightly. The knight sneered, drew his battle knife, and rubbed the tip with two fingers. The two quickly resigned themselves, followed the knight from the general’s mansion to the carriage, and got in. Inside, they felt both the shame of disgracing their family and the relief of selling themselves for safety. The woman, still holding the curtain, glanced at them, mouth curling up. Thin arms and legs—their arms were probably not even as thick as hers, but after all, this was the taste of scholars. She withdrew her gaze, looking at the slender figure that had caught her eye in a fleeting glimpse, hesitating whether to take another male favorite. However, the already somewhat crowded carriage made her abandon the amorous thought. When the carriage moved past the man again, she thought: since she had no such intention for the moment, she couldn’t let those women in the city who always vied with her for attention get their hands on him. What if he accidentally fell into their clutches? How annoying that would be. What she didn’t want, no one else could have.

So she told the strong maid to pass a message to the guards: go kill that man who had looked quite pleasing just now.

In troubled times, human life is cheaper than a dog in peacetime; life and death hang on a single thought of some people. As the legal wife of a powerful general, she let down the curtain and pricked up her ears, waiting for the satisfying sound of a battle knife piercing a chest or simply chopping off a head. If her husband were merely a commander of ten thousand troops in Bao Ping Prefecture, she would not have dared to act so recklessly. But since her husband had gotten the position because of her noble family name, in Hu Jia City, few would dare to criticize her for abducting refugees in the street or “accidentally killing” a few commoners.

But she waited for a moment, and the expected pleasant sound did not come. Puzzled, she lifted the curtain. The captain of her personal guards returned to the window, bowed, and said in shock: “Madam, that man suddenly disappeared!”

The woman snapped, “Did he escape? Can his two legs outrun a warhorse’s four?!”

The captain’s terror stemmed not from the woman’s anger, but from his own bizarre experience. He hurriedly explained: “Madam, I charged right up to him and swung my knife, but he just vanished into thin air!”

The woman frowned and muttered, “Seeing ghosts in broad daylight? Could he be a hidden martial arts master? That doesn’t make sense. Our Northern Mang’s martial artists have all but wiped themselves out fighting in Bei Liang. Even if there are any stragglers, they’re either still in the army or hired as guards by the Southern noble families.”

Although the woman and her family were prominent among Bao Ping Prefecture’s local powers, they were not so arrogant as to provoke those legendary adepts who could fly through the air. The few peak battles on the Liang-Mang border, where experts from both sides clashed, had sparse details recorded, but they had made the world understand a bloody truth: a warrior capable of defeating ten thousand foes might not decide the outcome of a large battle, but two, three, or even a dozen grandmasters acting together could slaughter twenty to thirty thousand Northern Mang cavalry without breaking a sweat. Even two hundred thousand troops would struggle to advance an inch! The woman, whose fortunes rose and fell with Northern Mang’s, scowled and cursed the stubbornness of the Bei Liang barbarians, saving special venom for the Bei Liang Prince who had caused Northern Mang so much suffering.

When the woman decided to let the matter drop, she waved her hand, shows the loyal captain not to pursue the man. As she let down the curtain, a sudden, unnatural breeze brushed her face. Not only her, but also the burly maid and the two scholars—lambs to the slaughter—stared dumbfounded. The woman then realized an uninvited guest was sitting beside her. Her chest heaved, and she turned with difficulty to see the same ragged yet distinctive man from before. True to her noble upbringing, though her fists were clenched and trembling, she forced a charming smile, raised her hand to stop the maid from rushing to her defense once she came to her senses, and said with a smile: “My lord, are you here to rob me of wealth or beauty? Either way, for the courage and boldness that have me utterly impressed, even if you want both, I’ll submit.”

The man smiled it off and said softly, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lady Shen Tu. I only want detailed maps of Hu Jia and Shi Bei cities.”

The woman giggled coquettishly and asked, “Could my lord be a spy from Bei Liang? I’m a timid soul. If I’m accused of colluding with Bei Liang, it would mean the death of nine generations of my family.”

The man looked slightly impatient, but his tone remained mild: “My time is precious, and I’m sure Lady Shen Tu values her life as well. If I don’t get the maps within half an hour, I wouldn’t mind…”

The woman, feigning helplessness, patted her chest, cutting him off with a pathetically charming look: “I’m so scared, my lord. You’re a great hero—why pick on a weak woman? Of course, these two maps aren’t that precious to me. If only my lord would come to my mansion…”

In the next moment, the woman, who had been avoiding the topic, could no longer speak. Her head and body were pressed Deadly still against the carriage’s rear wall, as if a thin sheet of paper nailed to it. Her face rapidly turned from flushed to pale, then livid, like a fish stranded on shore, teetering on the edge of death.

The maid had already fainted, crumpling to the floor like a pile of mud, her life unknown. The remaining two young men, who had barely escaped Long Yao Prefecture to reach Hu Jia City, fell deathly silent, clamping their mouths shut, fearing even a breath would anger this mysterious demon.

They saw the man look “distracted,” as if sensing something, then appear a little disappointed. He refocused and said calmly to the woman: “Perhaps I wasn’t clear earlier. My time is far more precious than Lady Shen Tu’s life. Blink once if you agree to hand over the two maps. I’ll count to three. If I get no answer, you’ll be carried into the general’s mansion today.”

The woman, on the verge of suffocation, mustered her last strength and blinked once.

Only now did she realize how exhausting a single blink could be.

The most hopeless truth, however, was another matter: her real lifeline was not the eight arrogant guards in plain sight, but the unassuming old coachman—a genuine second-rank master. Yet, through all the commotion in the carriage, the old man had noticed nothing. She had even deliberately raised her voice to “flirt” with the man beside her; by rights, a second-rank warrior of his caliber should have detected what was happening right behind him. But the carriage continued to roll steadily forward. Could this man, who looked not yet thirty, be a first-rank master? Was there such a figure in Northern Mang’s martial world? Unlike the Li Yang Martial Arts World, where masters hid away from the court, Northern Mang’s martial circles had no secrets.

The man sat cross-legged, making no move, yet the woman—daughter of the prestigious Shen Tu clan—regained her ability to breathe. The man said calmly: “Lady Shen Tu, your coachman was once a peak second-rank warrior, skilled with his left hand. It’s a pity, around the age of forty, he suffered severe internal organ damage. Over the years, he’s relied on precious medicines from the Dao De Sect to barely maintain his second-rank status. Am I wrong?”

The woman’s face flickered with uncertainty, suspecting he was a long-hidden enemy of the Shen Tu clan, someone who knew their deepest secrets—otherwise, how could he expose the old coachman’s background so accurately?

The man smiled faintly, with a touch of sarcasm: “The reason I say this is to tell you, Lady Shen Tu: if you create complications and waste my time, it would be trivial to leave this little general’s mansion with no one alive.”

The woman sucked in a sharp breath.

She sat up straight, dropping all pretense, and turned to ask solemnly: “Young master, do you truly only want the two maps? You won’t kill me, or harm anyone in the city?”

The man nodded, then closed his eyes to rest.

The carriage stopped outside the general’s mansion. Lady Shen Tu had planned to send the old coachman to fetch the maps while she stayed in the carriage as a hostage, but the strange man was so confident he let her get off, even saying the servants could bring the maps—no need for her to reappear. The woman couldn’t help but be amazed. She told the two frail scholars, who were to have been her new favorites, to scram, then walked silently into the mansion. Within the time it takes to burn an incense stick, she returned with two scrolls of Northern Mang’s military maps, which she respectfully handed to the man still sitting in the carriage. He unrolled them and studied them carefully.

Lady Shen Tu dared to steal a glance at him. His features were softer than the men of Northern Mang’s Northern Court, yet compared to men from the Central Plains or Jiangnan, they had more sharpness—handsome without being effeminate. His beautiful phoenix eyes, narrowing slightly as he read the maps, were particularly captivating. After finishing, he closed his eyes to memorize them, ensuring he’d missed nothing, then opened them, returned the maps, and smiled: “Lady Shen Tu is true to her word. None of your forty-odd private guards made any hidden moves. I have nothing to thank you for the maps now, but I’m sure there will be a chance to express my gratitude later.”

The woman felt a surge of lingering fear. Fortunately, when she left her husband’s study, she’d decided it was better to let things be. Otherwise, today might have been the death anniversary of many in the mansion.

As she sighed with emotion, the man vanished like a celestial being.

The woman suddenly laughed: “They say the Bei Liang Prince is not only one of the world’s top experts but also extremely handsome. I think this young master is not far behind him.”

If she had known this man was none other than Bei Liang Prince Xu Fengnian, she would have died of fright.

Xu Fengnian had first searched blindly in Northern Mang’s Southern Dynasties, but soon realized something: his child with Hong Shu might not have fled south directly to seek safety. Instead, they might have gone north into the Northern Court first, waiting patiently for a chance to reach Bei Liang safely. So he rushed north. But even if the child was indeed in the Northern Court, he had no idea whether they were on the grasslands or in some city. Xu Fengnian could only rely on his remaining intuition to search, knowing it might all be in vain. In fact, if he found nothing after searching Hu Jia City and Shi Bei City, he would have to return.

Perhaps the child was already dead.

Yet Xu Fengnian dared not entertain this “maybe”—a possibility that, in truth, held the highest odds. He couldn’t even let the thought take root.

Xu Fengnian wandered aimlessly through Hu Jia City, pausing and moving at random. One moment he might be under the eaves of a quiet wine shop, watching the street crowds; the next, he could be in an alley where the laughter of children echoed, then standing atop an unremarkable tall building’s roof.

From the scorching noon sun, to the sun dipping westward, to the arrival of dusk, Xu Fengnian sat on the steps of a dilapidated old temple in a poor neighborhood in the northwest corner of Hu Jia City.

Along the way, he’d hoped thousands of times, been disappointed thousands of times—and yet, he never gave up.

Xu Fengnian told himself: his child must be somewhere, waiting for him, waiting for a father who’d failed her and her mother far too much.

The ancient temple behind him had been abandoned for years, exuding no aura of Buddhism, only dim, gloomy light.

In front of the temple lay a large open space.

Just as Xu Fengnian was about to stand, he saw a group of children running over from not far away—some three or four years old, others seven or eight—all dressed in the plainest Northern Mang clothing. Carefree, most clutched shoddy bamboo-framed kites, likely homemade by their parents. Seven or eight children were playing kite-fighting. In the Central Plains and Jiangnan, children, rich or poor, loved flying kites too, but that was just flying. This was different: kite-fighting, a stark display of the warrior spirit coursing through Northern Mang’s veins. Their kites were long, square boards, curved into tile shapes from behind, crudely painted, with no tails but strings attached. They ran with the wind to lift them, the kites humming as they darted left and right, crashing and “battling” each other. If their strings tangled, they’d saw at each other’s lines; the loser could only watch their kite plummet far away, then scamper to retrieve it. Xu Fengnian stared transfixed at the sky. Already, several kites had snapped their strings and fallen. A child wailed and ran to fetch theirs; when it got stuck high in a tree, the child cried inconsolably beneath it.

Half an hour later, mealtime came. Answering their parents’ calls, the children dispersed—kite-fighting winners like generals returning from battle, losers dejected, plotting to steal more string from their parents.

In the twilight, Xu Fengnian stared blankly at the empty space.

Then faint footsteps broke the silence.

From afar, a small, thin figure hopped over, carrying a slightly damaged small kite.

About twenty-odd feet from the steps, the grubby child stopped. It was a little girl, around four or five, her face smudged with dirt. Besides the kite, she held some yellowed vegetable leaves, probably scavenged. Likely a beggar, she eyed Xu Fengnian—this “roadblock” on the steps—with a fleeting wariness, but soon resumed her cheerful hopping. She passed him, climbed the steps, and prepared to enter the temple. Xu Fengnian smiled; he must be sitting right at her “doorstep”—no wonder she seemed annoyed.

Just then, four or five children ran over from afar. The oldest, around eight or nine, held the hand of the child whose kite had gotten stuck in the tree earlier. Spotting the little dark-skinned girl behind Xu Fengnian, they immediately started shouting. The girl tensed, instantly tossing her kite into the temple courtyard—but not before the other children saw it. They swarmed up the steps. The oldest punched the little girl’s shoulder, sneering, “Thief! Go get my brother’s kite back, then kneel and beg for mercy! Or I’ll tear down your lousy home!”

The girl stumbled from the hard blow, nearly falling, but straightened her chest and sneer, “Who’s the thief? Your whole family are thieves! The kite was in a tree—I climbed up to get it. I didn’t see your name on it!”

The older boy swung a slap; the girl tilted her head to dodge, then kicked him in the crotch. He collapsed, rolling on the ground. Enraged, the other children ganged up on her—this annoying girl. But after a scuffle, they all took a beating: black eyes, swollen faces, one with a bleeding wrist from her bite. Of course, the skinny girl fared worse, pummeled all over—but in the end, she stood proudly at the temple gate, neither fleeing nor crying, as if ready to fight to the end.

The other children, not as desperate as she—”with nothing to lose”—muttered curses like “bastard” and “beggar” as they left, hurling threats over their shoulders.

Xu Fengnian turned to watch the little girl. Once everyone was gone, her young face twisted in pain, a trickle of blood seeping from her lip. She forced her mouth open, stuck in two fingers, and yanked out a loose front tooth, clutching it carefully in her palm.

She glanced at the astonished Xu Fengnian, rolled her eyes, patted her bottom, then jumped over the threshold with both feet together.

Xu Fengnian let out a involuntarily laugh.

He stood and continued searching Hu Jia City, looking for any child who might faintly resemble that lovely woman—maybe her eyes, her nose, her lips. Anything, even a trace of similarity, would do.

Late at night, with no luck, Xu Fengnian stood on Hu Jia’s city wall, sighed, and prepared to head to the last city: Shi Bei.

Somehow, the image of that little dark-skinned girl yanking out her tooth popped into his head. He smiled involuntarily, wondering: should he go see her again?

A gloomy temple, a room with rotting window bars, a narrow plank bed, a wobbly wooden stool, a small pot—and a little bag of grain hidden underground. That was all she owned.

Yet she was happy. For dinner, she’d made a stew of vegetable leaves scavenged from the market—she thought it a feast.

She sat cross-legged on the plank bed, farthest from the window, staring in a daze at the stars. Beside her lay a tattered cloth doll, her only friend to talk to in the world.

She suddenly sniffed, jumped off the bed, creaked open the door, and squinted. In the courtyard, she saw a strange sight: the man from the steps was squatting, roasting meat!

She didn’t approach, just stood at the door, watching him.

Xu Fengnian had built a fire, roasting a chicken. Even without seasoning, he’d made it golden and oily, enough to make anyone’s mouth water.

The little girl swallowed hard, but clamped her jaws shut, refusing to move—even as he tore off a drumstick and bit into it.

By the time he’d eaten half the chicken, she was still wrestling with herself. When she saw him reach for the last plump drumstick, she slowly walked to the fire, held out her hand—clear as day: I want the drumstick, give it to me.

Xu Fengnian ignored her, taking another bite of the drumstick, juice dribbling down his chin.

The little dark-skinned girl took a heavy step forward, holding out her hand again.

Xu Fengnian glanced at her sideways, nibbling the drumstick.

Her eyes sparkled with cleverness: “This is my home!”

Xu Fengnian mumbled, “Just borrowing the spot. I’ll leave after eating.”

“Give me the drumstick!” she snapped.

Hastily, she added, “Only half left!”

Xu Fengnian glanced at her. “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘please’ when asking for something?”

He’d almost added, “Didn’t your parents teach you?” but stopped. Saying that to an orphan would be too cruel.

The dark, skinny girl spat hard at the fire, then stomped back to the steps and plopped down.

Xu Fengnian tossed the chicken bones aside, wiped his greasy fingers, and stared back at her, even adding a deliberate burp to rub it in.

The stubborn little girl fumed. A cool breeze ruffled her dirty, stiff hair, lifting her sparse bangs to reveal a high forehead—surprisingly fair and smooth against her grubby face.

In the end, she gave in first, returning to the room to sleep.

Xu Fengnian sat in the courtyard, meditating like an old monk, eyes closed.

Several times, she climbed on a small stool and peeked through the window—now without paper—until late at night, when she snuck back to her little bed.

At dawn, the little girl gently pushed open the door, only to find that annoying man still lingering in her home. She didn’t dare to chase him away, so she simply pretended he didn’t exist—out of sight, out of mind. Carrying the broken kite, she climbed up an old tree and jumped onto the roof, holding the kite high above her head and running back and forth like an tireless little wildcat.

Xu Fengnian stood up, stretched lazily, and looked up. The little dark-skinned girl was staring down at him with cold eyes, a scrutiny far beyond her years.

Xu Fengnian asked kindly, “Your parents are gone?”

The child, as if her tail had been stepped on, snapped angrily, “Your parents are the ones who died!”

Xu Fengnian sighed in helplessness. “Then why aren’t you out begging? The early bird catches the worm. Aren’t you afraid of starving?”

The little dark girl sneered, “None of your business! And you’re the beggar, not me!”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “If you don’t beg for a living, do you steal or rob instead?”

The little girl scoffed, “What do you know?”

Xu Fengnian fell silent. The child, struggling to survive in the squalor of the lower streets, was clearly adept at reading people—a sharp intuition bordering on instinct. She could fight kids several years older than her because she knew that showing fear meant endless bullying. Last year, they’d stolen her cloth doll while she was away, hidden her small pot, and often threw stones through her window. Yet she clearly dared not truly provoke the grown man in the courtyard. This sense of when to advance and retreat might have been an innate talent, but it was more likely forged bit by bit through the harshness of being orphaned. She was willing to steal, to scavenge vegetable leaves, but she refused to beg with a bowl on the street—she didn’t know why. This year, she could already wade into streams outside the city, barely knee-deep, trying to spear fish with sharpened sticks; or set traps for birds in the wild with a tattered wicker basket, dig wild vegetables. She thought that when she grew older, she’d surely be able to do even more.

Anyway, she could get by on her own. She could wait patiently to grow taller, then do that “big thing.”

Xu Fengnian watched as the mischievous little girl suddenly sat on the roof’s edge, set the kite aside, let her legs dangle and swing, and rested her chin in her hands, gazing south.

Xu Fengnian leaped up to the roof and sat down. After half an hour, she suddenly snapped out of her trance, turned to him in confusion, and asked, “Hey, how’d you climb up here too?”

Xu Fengnian said nothing.

She shifted her bottom, as if to move farther away from him. But in truth, her right hand gently lifted two loose tiles, gripping a small wooden knife—though she made sure Xu Fengnian couldn’t see it.

Xu Fengnian still stared into the distance, then smiled and asked, “Why hide a little wooden knife on the roof? You planning to kill me?”

Her face paled instantly. She stood up abruptly, facing Xu Fengnian, gripping the knife with both hands.

Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, self-deprecatingly, “Believe it or not, I’m not a bad person. Well, technically, maybe I am, but I definitely mean you no harm. Think about it—what do you have that’s worth my while? This wooden knife? That little broken pot? This run-down temple?”

She gave a seemingly innocent smile, nodding and agreeing as she waved the wooden knife around. But even without looking, Xu Fengnian could feel her body remain tense.

Xu Fengnian wondered—had this child been so badly mistreated in her wandering that she’d become this “worldly-wise”?

She sat back down with a giggle, pulled a dull blade from under the tiles—stolen from who knows where—and waved it at Xu Fengnian, as if showing off: See, I have a knife.

Noticing that Xu Fengnian still hadn’t turned to look, she relaxed a little and began sharpening the knife. The small wooden knife was still a work in progress; she needed to keep “forging” it.

Xu Fengnian noticed that when the little girl focused on something, she became surprisingly meticulous.

He couldn’t help but smile, remembering his own childhood. Had he been like this sometimes?

They chatted on and off, his questions met mostly with silence.

“What’s your name?”

No response.

“Do you have friends?”

“Of course!”

It was the cloth doll she relied on.

“How old are you?”

“Why do you care!”

“Did you make this little wooden knife yourself?”

She rolled her eyes, annoyed at his obvious question.

“This knife is a strange mix—straighter than a Mang blade, narrower than a Liang blade, thinner than the famous ‘Haojiang Daping’ of Southern Tang…”

“Hey, hey, why are you nattering like an old woman?”

Xu Fengnian fell silent.

But then, for the first time, she took the initiative to ask, “What’s a Southern Tang Haojiang Daping?”

Xu Fengnian smiled and explained patiently, “It’s a type of portable knife, similar to a large battle-axe used in armies. It was once popular among the Southern Tang royal family, and several famous battle knives today drew inspiration from it.”

The little dark girl pursed her lips, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Xu Fengnian asked curiously, “Your skills were enough to handle those kids yesterday. Why do you need a wooden knife for self-defense?”

The little girl hid the blade, placed the wooden knife on her lap, and stared at it with increasing fondness, stroking it gently. She snorted, “It’s my birthday soon. This is my gift to myself.”

Xu Fengnian teased, “Little girl, you don’t skimp on treating yourself.”

The little girl flew into a rage, turned to glare at him, baring her teeth, “Who’s a little girl? I pee standing up!”

Xu Fengnian rubbed his forehead, at a loss for words.

The little girl suddenly said, “By the way, just so you know—my dad’s the greatest warrior and hero in the world. He kills without blinking an eye. You dare mess with me, and I’ll tell him to beat you to death! I’m only telling you this secret because you don’t seem like a bad guy!”

Xu Fengnian laughed and asked, “Is your dad really that tough? A warrior? How powerful is he?”

The little dark girl’s face lit up with pride. “As tall as ten stories! No, a hundred stories! Are you scared?”

Xu Fengnian paused, then laughed loudly, “I don’t believe it. If your dad were that powerful, you wouldn’t be stuck here without even a chicken leg to eat.”

She fell silent for a moment, then ground out each word through clenched teeth, “D-o-n-’t y-o-u d-a-r-e t-a-l-k a-b-o-u-t m-y d-a-d!”

Xu Fengnian turned to look at her, at that extremely serious little face. For a moment, he felt a daze, a loss.

She stared defiantly back.

Xu Fengnian smiled and conceded, standing up and walking over to her. He tried to pat her head, but she dodged.

Xu Fengnian said softly, “Little girl, I’m leaving. I need to go to Shibei City to find a child around your age. She must look as beautiful as her mother.”

She waved her hand in a grown-up manner, smiling, “Off you go, then. We’ll meet again if fate wills it. Just remember—don’t be so stingy next time. Or you’ll never find a wife, being so petty!”

Afraid of startling her, Xu Fengnian didn’t vanish instantly to head for Shibei City. Instead, he jumped lightly into the courtyard, pushed open the gate, and only disappeared once he reached the shadowy corner of the alley.

The nameless little dark girl felt no sorrow or sentimentality. Once Xu Fengnian was gone, she let out a sigh of relief, squatted down slowly, stuck her little bottom out, and hid the small wooden knife, muttering under her breath, “Draw a knife to cut water, but the water flows on… Draw a knife to chop off a head, and the blood flows more….”

Leaving the kite on the roof, she slid down the tree back into the courtyard, starting her new day.

For an orphan with no one to rely on, surviving was never easy. First, she went to a house two streets away, where she helped an elderly couple clean their home and yard, straining to fill their water tank. The couple’s son and daughter-in-law were peddlers who traveled far, returning once every ten days to pay her a dozen copper coins—though sometimes they owed her. After finishing her work, she wandered the streets, memorizing when families held weddings or funerals, sneaking a meal whenever she could. The markets on the first and fifteenth days of the month often brought good hauls. Her luckiest day was during the Lantern Festival in early spring, when she’d found a bulging cloth purse. It was her first time seeing silver—tiny shards, no bigger than her thumbnail—and she’d been overjoyed ever since. If the city yielded nothing, she’d head outside, fishing in rivers or raiding bird nests. She remembered that at the end of last year, when the river froze, she’d seen people Breaking the Ice and catch fat fish, seeming so easy and profitable—just sitting on the ice. She’d tried it, nearly freezing to death before a kind passing merchant saved her. That harsh lesson taught her: her luck wasn’t good, so she shouldn’t expect heaven to be generous.

And so, a skinny little dark girl ran merrily through Hu Jia City.

Returning to the abandoned temple at dusk, she carried more vegetable leaves and a bag of cicadas caught from trees. Today, luck was on her side—she’d snuck into a wedding feast in the east of the city at noon. Her mouth still tasted of the small piece of pork fat, though she’d been dragged out before finishing her bowl, even though she’d eaten as fast as she could.

That night, Xu Fengnian stood at the window, watching the little girl humming a tune with her back to him, facing a pot of fried cicadas: “Chop off heads to hold wine… scoop out hearts and livers to braise… skin and bone to steam… all taste delicious, but none as crispy as fried cicadas… days pass by, and I grow day by day…”

Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but laugh, though a pang of sadness hit him as he watched her carefully pick up a fried cicada and pop it into her mouth. He imagined the contentment on her face, and even a man as hard-hearted as he felt a twinge of pity.

When you grow up, whatever hardships or blessings come your way, you can’t blame heaven or your parents.

But she was only this age.

Xu Fengnian sighed. He’d found nothing in Shibei City either. Logically, he should have returned to the Bei Liang army at once, but on the way back, his thoughts had turned to this little dark girl, and somehow he’d ended up back at this temple in Hu Jia City.

The little girl suddenly turned her head, saw Xu Fengnian at the window, froze for a moment, then continued chewing, savoring the delicious fried cicadas.

Gourmands Emphasis eating only what’s in season, but the poor eat whatever’s available. In wealthy families, fried cicadas might be a quirky, if unrefined, delicacy.

The little girl asked curiously, “You didn’t go to Shibei City?”

Xu Fengnian shook his head.

She hesitated, then pretended to be generous despite her reluctance, “Hungry? Eaten yet? If not, I’ll treat you to a meal.”

Xu Fengnian smiled, “That’d be nice.”

The little girl clearly hoped he’d say he’d already eaten, but she couldn’t back down now. She gestured sadly for him to come over. There were seven fried cicadas left in the pot. She pulled four toward herself, then glanced at him and pushed one back.

Xu Fengnian squatted across from her, picked up a fried cicada, and ate it. It was tasteless, with a earthy, fishy smell unmasked by seasoning. Yet for some reason, it reminded him of the shabby days he’d spent traveling with Old Huang, and a smile spread across his face unconsciously.

She asked proudly, “Good, right?”

Xu Fengnian nodded, “It’s good.”

After a fierce internal struggle, she patted her stomach and said boldly, “I’m full. You can have the rest.”

After eating four fried cicadas, Xu Fengnian shook his head and smiled, “No need. I can go longer without food than you.”

She tilted her head, “Really not having more?”

Xu Fengnian grunted in assent. While she ate, he looked around, and she took the chance to study him.

She clapped her hands, “Want to cool off?”

Seeing no objection, she led him—this man she neither disliked nor feared—up the tree and onto the roof. They lay side by side, watching the stars.

She asked softly, “Don’t you have a home?”

Xu Fengnian rested the back of his head on his arm, smiling, “I do. And it’s a bit bigger than yours.”

She pouted, “Hey, stop bragging. My home isn’t small—all this space is mine!”

A shooting star streaked across the sky.

The little girl quickly closed her eyes to make a wish.

Xu Fengnian said gently, “Making a wish? What for?”

The little girl rolled her eyes, “Didn’t your parents tell you? Wishes don’t come true if you say them out loud!”

Xu Fengnian stared at the brilliant summer stars, murmuring, “Let me tell you a secret—wishes don’t come true whether you say them or not.”

The little girl quickly spat three times, then turned to glare angrily at this spoilsport.

Xu Fengnian apologized with a smile, “That’s just my experience. Maybe you’re different.”

They fell silent for a long time.

She suddenly asked, “Have you ever ridden a horse?”

Xu Fengnian said, “Of course. Since I was very little. Why? You want to ride one?”

She lowered her voice, looking mysterious, “I’ll tell you a secret—my dad has lots and lots of horses. Ten thousand horses! No, a hundred thousand!”

Xu Fengnian teased, “Little girl, do you know how many a hundred thousand horses are? If they ran side by side, from above, their backs would look like the ground itself.”

She mumbled, “Oh.”

Xu Fengnian rolled onto his side to face her, “You treated me to four fried cicadas, so I’ll grant you four wishes. Like, I could buy you a chicken leg, or give you an ounce of silver. I’ll do my best. Am I a pretty good guest?”

The little girl shook her head, serious, “My mom said to treat people with sincerity. Those fried cicadas were a gift, not a sale. Besides, they wouldn’t fetch a single copper coin anyway.”

Xu Fengnian reached out and pinched her cheek.

The little girl didn’t pull away, though she still scowled at him. She suddenly sighed, “When I was little…”

Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but interrupt, “You’re still little.”

She glared at him, then went on, “When I was little, my mom said that far, far south, in summer, there are things called fireflies, flitting around, so beautiful!”

Xu Fengnian smiled, “Yes. Poets there call them ‘night candles,’ ‘moonlight bugs,’ or ‘heavenly lights.’”

Her eyes widened, sparkling with curiosity, “Do they really glow? Why? I asked mom, but she wouldn’t tell me. She said to ask dad. But my dad… he wouldn’t tell me either.”

Xu Fengnian answered earnestly, “Because they have a light organ in their tails that emits yellow-green light.”

Xu Fengnian added with a grin, “Your dad’s pretty mean not to tell you that.”

She raised her fist, as if threatening to hit him if he spoke ill of her dad again.

The little girl sighed.

For no reason at all, Xu Fengnian sighed too.

They remained silent.

Xu Fengnian propped one leg over the other, savoring this rare peace.

Since the Liang-Mang war began four years ago, there had been endless smoke of battle, unceasing drumbeats and hooves, endless battles, and endless lives to take.

Perhaps future history books would describe this war as “magnificent,” but for those caught in its midst, no one could truly catch their breath.

Xu Fengnian had always felt he was far inferior to Xu Xiao.

In leading armies, that was true.

In being a father, even more so.

Xu Xiao, as a father, had left him an inheritable title of Bei Liang Prince, three hundred thousand iron cavalry, and twenty full years of youthful recklessness. In Bei Liang, he, the crown prince, had once lived more freely than a crown prince of the imperial court.

This was what they called “a virtuous family is sure to enjoy lasting prosperity.”

But when it was his turn to be a father, where was his child?

Was this “a sinful family is sure to suffer lasting misfortune”?

A soft voice sounded beside him, “Missing home?”

Xu Fengnian sighed, “Yes.”

The little girl imitated him, propping one leg over the other, swinging it back and forth, humming a makeshift tune intermittently: “Firefly, firefly, follow me home…”

It was just that one line, repeated over and over.

After some time, Xu Fengnian, no longer hearing the song, realized the little girl had fallen sound asleep.

Fearing she might catch cold, he gently took off his robe and covered her with it.

Xu Fengnian watched the sky, staying there until dawn.

The little girl, curled up warmly in the robe all night, woke up yawning. Seeing him sitting cross-legged, she didn’t know what to say for a moment.

Xu Fengnian turned to her and smiled, “Little girl, want to come to my house? I’ll feed you, clothe you, and give you a place to sleep.”

She looked disdainful, “No.”

Perhaps fearing such a blunt refusal might hurt his feelings, she grinned, “Sorry, but I can’t just wander off.”

Xu Fengnian reached out and ruffled her messy, nest-like hair, “It’s all right. I’ll come visit you again.”

“Next time you come, can you bring a chicken leg?”

“Yes.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Sure.”

The adult and the child solemnly linked pinkies.

Xu Fengnian’s smile remained, but he stood up quickly, looking toward the city gate.

The little dark girl followed his gaze, then glanced around, her face draining of color instantly.

Hundreds of black dots were leaping and bounding across the rooftops, heading straight for her little home.

Xu Fengnian explained softly, “Don’t be afraid. They’re all here for me. I’ll find you a safe place afterward, I promise you’ll have chicken legs every few days.”

Earlier, he had moved swiftly and secretly through several prefectures of the Southern Dynasties. Even with Northern Mang’s cultivators keeping watch, they hadn’t had time to mobilize troops to intercept him. But Bao Ping Prefecture, in the heart of the Northern Court, was different.

It seemed not only had the Spider Web spies been deployed in full force, but several elite cavalry units were also racing here.

Yet the little girl’s lips trembled, and she whispered, “No… they’re all here for me.”

She suddenly pushed Xu Fengnian, shouting sharply, “Run! Hurry! Don’t worry about me!”

Xu Fengnian stared in shock, looking down at the child, who was suddenly frantic. She grabbed his sleeve, looking up with red eyes, choking, “Mom’s gone, Uncle Xu’s gone, Brother Tong Guan lost an arm because of me… it’s all my fault… go! Hurry!”

Xu Fengnian felt as if struck by lightning.

The little girl let go, fumbled under tiles on the other side of the roof, pulled out a long, narrow wooden knife, and quickly thrust it into his hand. She wiped her tears roughly with her sleeve, forcing a smile, “Run as far as you can. If… if you ever find my dad, tell him this is a gift from me. And… my name is Xu Nianliang. Oh, and my nickname is Little Sweet Potato.”

She grinned brightly, “My dad is Xu Fengnian, the Bei Liang Prince! He’s really powerful, right? I wasn’t lying!”

As the black dots grew larger, she pushed the fool who stood frozen, clutching the wooden knife,said angrily, “Why aren’t you leaving?! You’ll really die here!”

Xu Fengnian squatted down slowly, pressing his forehead tightly against hers.

In that moment, he held her, tears streaming down his face, and he sobbed.

The Spider Web spies, who had entered Hu Jia City ready to die, landed on nearby rooftops. Witnessing this scene, even these cold-blooded dead men were stunned.

This Bei Liang Prince, who made the entire Northern Mang Dynasty tremble—this man who had gravely injured the martial god Tuo Ba Pu Sa, leaving him unhealed to this day, this invincible warrior—was crying?

The encirclement tightened layer by layer, growing denser. But every Spider Web spy knew in their hearts: before this man, they were no more than pawns, sacrificing hundreds of lives to delay him for a moment.

The little girl named Xu Nianliang stared resolutely, gripping her small wooden knife.

Xu Fengnian released her, not wiping his own tears, but reaching out to wipe her dirty cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

They spoke in unison.

Little Sweet Potato meant she had dragged this not-bad stranger into danger.

She couldn’t understand why he was apologizing too.

But if she couldn’t figure it out, so be it. It seemed both big and small unlucky souls were going to die here.

She didn’t want to cry in front of these Northern barbarians. Staring at his face, she chuckled, “It’s okay. Don’t worry, I won’t laugh at you. Everyone’s scared of death. I cried too, just now.”

Xu Fengnian stood up, bent down, and carefully fastened the long, narrow wooden knife—carved by the child, modeled after a Bei Liang blade—at his waist.

He said softly, “I found you, Little Sweet Potato.”

Inside the city were Spider Web spies.

Outside, four cavalry units, each ten thousand strong, surrounded them.

The sun rose in the east, its rays spreading like a tidal wave.

Xu Fengnian rested one hand on Little Sweet Potato’s head, gazing into the distance, and said gently, “Little Sweet Potato, Daddy failed to protect your mom, but I’ll definitely protect you. Today, we’re going home together.”

The child stood there dazed beside Xu Fengnian, then burst into loud sobs.

Since she’d grown old enough to understand, this was the first time she’d cried so heart-wrenchingly.

Even when she’d left her mom in Dunhuang City, she’d been brave enough not to cry. Even when she’d watched Brother Tong Guan have his arm cut off, she’d only covered her mouth, not dare to cry out.

She screamed through her tears, “You didn’t protect Mom! I don’t want to call you Daddy!”

“I miss Grandpa. If Grandpa were here, I’d make him hit you.”

“You’re the biggest villain in the world! Give me back my wooden knife! I’m not giving it to you anymore!”

“I never wanted to wish to grow up quickly to find you!”

Xu Fengnian stared coldly at the Spider Web spies, listening to his heartbroken child’s angry words. The famous Bei Liang Prince’s lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.

He clenched one fist, the other resting on the rough hilt of the long wooden knife.

At this moment, even if ten peak Tuo Ba Pu Sa stood in his way, even if all the first-rank masters in the world appeared to oppose him, even if Northern Mang had a million more cavalry blocking the way…

Xu Fengnian would fear none of them!

Tears still streamed down his face, but his smile grew wider and wider.

Little Sweet Potato, I found you.

Xu Fengnian took a deep breath, ready to unleash his full strength in battle, when she suddenly tugged at his sleeve. He squatted down, confused.

She sniffled, raised her small hand, and wiped his tears.

Xu Fengnian gazed at his daughter—his Little Sweet Potato, dark-skinned but more beautiful than any child in the world in his eyes—and smiled, “You weren’t lying. Your dad, Xu Fengnian, really is a warrior a hundred stories tall.”

As he spoke, a unusual spectacle shook heaven and earth.

In Hu Jia City…

Except for this temple…

The entire city…

Tall buildings split apart and rose, stone walls were torn upward, trees uprooted and floated.

All the weapons in the city were caught up in this.

Nearly every inanimate object ascended into the sky.

And there, on this small rooftop, he wore the long wooden knife at his waist, while Little Sweet Potato held her small wooden knife.

This father and daughter…