Xu Fengnian felt a mix of emotions. Before the Battle of Jubei City, he had once made a pact with her to one day share a drink with someone surnamed Wen. For some reason, she seemed to have changed her mind. Last time Xu Fengnian went to that small town to invite her, sending a message to the snowy plains of Huishan Mountain, it had vanished without a trace, like clay oxen plunging into the sea.
Long ago, sharp-eyed martial artists had noticed the strange phenomena atop Huishan Mountain, and the ferry erupted in murmurs. Even Xu Baozao craned her neck, gazing dreamily at the indistinct silhouette of the Queyue Tower. Those who had not truly stepped onto the martial path could never clearly see that figure. Even the ferry passengers, straining their eyes, could only make out the outline of the tallest building in the world. Yet, it was as if they had witnessed the peerless elegance of the “Purple Robe of Huishan” firsthand, leaving them dazzled and hearts racing.
Who would have thought that after Li Chungang and Wang Xianzhi, the one who could make the entire martial world bow would be a woman?
The Northwest Prince, who had achieved unparalleled feats, had once been the more likely candidate—but he was dead.
The father conquered the Central Plains, the son conquered the grasslands.
Two generations of the Xu family ultimately never vied for the throne, never usurped the imperial seat, leaving behind only countless mysteries for posterity.
Just as Xu Baozao, her eyes stinging, was about to look away, in that very moment, she and every passenger on the ferry were struck dumb with astonishment.
A clear purple streak shot up from the peak of the Xiong Tower on the snowy plains, then plummeted straight toward the great river at the mountain’s foot!
Wait—was it heading for their ferry?
The Purple Robe of Huishan crashed onto the bow of the boat.
The bow plunged deep into the river, the stern reared high, tilting the entire ferry at a steep angle.
Chaos ensued. Passengers inside the cabin were jumbled together like dumplings, while those on deck admiring the scenery fared worse—tumbling into the She River like dumplings dropped into boiling water.
Xu Fengnian stood firm, rooted like a tree. Xu Baozao, panicked, shut her eyes, only to open them and find herself inexplicably anchored to the sloping deck, as if nailed in place.
The stern slammed back onto the river, sending up a massive spray.
The awe-inspiring Purple Robe of Huishan casually flicked her sleeve, and all those who had fallen into the river were hauled back onto the boat, collapsing onto the deck, dazed and disoriented.
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng, who had nearly capsized the ferry with a single step, shot Xu Fengnian a glance filled with skepticism and inquiry. He responded with a bitter smile. She snorted coldly and vanished in an instant.
Xu Baozao, sharp-witted, cut straight to the chase: “You know the leader of the martial world from Huishan?”
Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t? Who doesn’t?”
Xu Baozao pressed, “And she knows you?”
Xu Fengnian didn’t bother hiding it, leaning back on the railing. “I knew her long ago, back when neither of us was known in the martial world. Back then, in Jianzhou, people only heard of a certain Xuan Yuan woman on Huishan—a spendthrift who used gold pellets for her slingshot to hunt birds.”
Xu Baozao’s eyes glazed over as she whispered, “Who are you really? Are you the Peach Blossom Sword God?”
Xu Fengnian was taken aback. This girl’s imagination was truly wild—how had she linked him to Deng Tai’a?
Xu Baozao stared at him. “Grandpa Song and Liu Guanshan told me stories about the martial world. Grandpa Song, being a swordmaster, admired the Peach Blossom Sword God who sailed overseas seeking immortality the most. He said Master Deng’s swordsmanship had long transcended mortal limits, his mastery no less than the great immortal Lü Dongbin. And Grandpa Song mentioned that Deng Tai’a disliked wearing swords, was rather plain-looking, not the dashing figure of legend. Since you even know Leader Xuan Yuan, plus your indifference to military elites like Gao Tinghou, and your looks…”
Xu Fengnian cut her off, exasperated. “Just because I’m ugly, I must be Deng Tai’a? If I were handsome, would I be the King of Northern Liang, Xu Fengnian?”
Xu Baozao retorted bluntly, “You’d need to be reborn into a better life to even dream of being that century’s Xu Fengnian.”
Xu Fengnian smiled knowingly. “Of all the things you’ve said since we met, that makes the most sense.”
Xu Baozao curled her lips into a smirk.
Out of nowhere, Xu Fengnian asked, “Did you ever like Taoist texts? Do you want to learn martial arts now?”
Xu Baozao was baffled, unsure what this cryptic man was getting at. She didn’t rush to answer, merely side-eyed him.
Xu Fengnian grew serious. “Do you know you carry destiny with you?”
Xu Baozao felt a surge of inexplicable anger and sneered. “Destiny? Of course I do. How else would I rank fourth on the Rouge List? The second remark even said that in five or ten years, when the young daughter of the Guanhai Xu family grows up, she’ll surely break into the top three, maybe even claim the title of ‘World’s Most Beautiful.’ Don’t I have destiny?!”
Xu Fengnian murmured softly, “In all those Rouge Lists, I’ve never seen ‘Most Beautiful’ as a remark. Only the last empress of Western Chu ever claimed that title, becoming one of the Thirteen Peaks of the Spring and Autumn Era. Titles like ‘World’s Most Beautiful’ don’t interest me. I’ve only heard of the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry being the world’s finest…”
Xu Baozao frowned. “The Northern Liang cavalry? Weren’t they disbanded?”
Xu Fengnian lifted his head, letting the river breeze ruffle his hair like pages turning in a book.
He whispered, “Yeah.”
Back then, at the northwestern gate of the Central Plains, they boasted of the “300,000 Iron Cavalry of Northern Liang.” In truth, the actual number never reached that—at its peak, it was only 140,000. By the end of the Xiangfu era’s third year, their numbers dwindled battle after battle. After Lu Dayuan’s 30,000 Left Cavalry were annihilated, the Youzhou cavalry under Yu Luandao, the White Feather Light Cavalry of Yuan Tingshan, the Dragon-Elephant Cavalry of Xu Longxiang and Li Mofan, the Flow State Iron Cavalry of Kou Jianghuai and Qifu Longguan, Ning Emei’s Iron Pagoda—all these elite forces of Northern Liang suffered heavy losses, replenished time and again, only to be decimated once more. By the time the young prince left the Northern Liang border army, only the Great Snow Dragon Cavalry remained relatively intact. The new dynasty of Liyang, whether out of consideration or caution, left this famed cavalry untouched, placing the unwilling-to-serve Xie Xichui in command to watch over the north and deter the grasslands.
As for why Xie Xichui, who had joined the Northern Liang army late, was chosen over native generals like Li Yanchao, Ning Emei, or Li Mofan—the court’s intentions were plain to see.
The shocked ferry passengers felt no anger, only flattery and immense honor, as if they’d been struck by heavenly fortune.
And rightly so. Xuan Yuan Qingfeng hadn’t been seen in the martial world for years. Her sudden, divine descent today was an unimaginable stroke of luck for these small fry on the fringes of the martial world.
After disembarking, Xu Fengnian led Xu Baozao not up the mountain but straight toward Longhu Mountain, explaining, “I doubt Huishan will take you in now. I’ll have to think of something else. Ideally, you’d stay on Huishan—it’s one of the only two places left in the world that don’t kowtow to the government, the other being Wudang Mountain, which is too far from your hometown.”
Xu Baozao laughed brightly. “So you’re definitely not the Peach Blossom Sword God. Otherwise, no matter how proud Leader Xuan Yuan is, she’d give you face.”
Xu Fengnian glanced at her. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about your own situation?”
Xu Baozao clasped her hands behind her back, skipping lightly along the stone path like a carefree noble out for an autumn stroll rather than a fugitive. She grinned. “When the sky falls, the tall will hold it up. Why should I worry?”
Xu Fengnian teased, “You’re quite the optimist.”
Still within the “domain” of the Xuan Yuan family on Huishan, the area was lively. Xu Baozao spotted an elderly vendor by the roadside hawking freshly dipped candied hawthorns on sticks. Children, coaxing coins from their parents, flocked to buy them. A stunning woman with an ethereal, icy demeanor stood nearby, and a chivalrous young man promptly bought her a glistening golden skewer. She accepted it with a smile that melted his heart. Xu Baozao, unceremoniously, held out her hand to Xu Fengnian for money. He didn’t argue, unfastening his shoulder bag to fish out a piece of silver. Xu Baozao asked, “Don’t you have smaller change? Silver’s worth more than copper now—what if the vendor can’t make change?”
Xu Fengnian smiled gently. “I’m saving the copper for someone.”
Xu Baozao didn’t dwell on it, taking the silver to buy two skewers—one for herself, one for Xu Fengnian. The vendor didn’t cheat her, though prices on Huishan were notoriously steep—a bowl of wine here cost as much as a whole jug elsewhere.
Holding her candied hawthorn, Xu Baozao beamed, her eyes crinkling like crescent moons as she delicately licked the sugary glaze, contentment radiating from her face. Simple pleasures—sour on the tongue, sweet in the heart.
Perhaps infected by her sudden joy, Xu Fengnian, munching on his skewer, smiled too.
Xu Baozao mused aloud, “My maids used to say autumn temple fairs or river festivals were the best times to eat these. Especially the crystal hawthorns from Xinyi Zhai—not on sticks like these, but in pretty little boxes, each berry plump and round, so tempting it made your mouth water.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “Is this your first time trying them?”
Xu Baozao pouted. “Obviously.”
As if fearing his judgment, she quickly added proudly, “I may not have had candied hawthorns, but I’ve tasted winter bamboo shoots from Luling, wild ferns from Guangling, lychees from Anxi, tangerines from Yonggan, chestnuts from Yicheng, pomegranates from Heyin, Shangyuan shad, Songjiang perch, jujube cakes, Daughter’s Red wine, slender-grained rice from Wuzhou—even Northern Liang’s Green Ant wine! Have you?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. So she was just a silly girl who loved to one-up others.
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