Xu Fengnian walked a few steps before turning around to gaze at the figure of a man, a kettle, and a wooden sword leaving along the long dyke. Qingniao stood gracefully while Lu Qiantang appeared solemn, though his mind brimmed with doubt. Despite his attempts, he could never figure out the identity of that ragged youth. Xu Fengnian, with wealth second only to the current Emperor, attracted only nobles and high officials upon the dyke. Lu Qiantang had seen the bustling scene at the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion during the first month of the new year—officials, all of them governors, flattering themselves before the young prince, smiling so sweetly they seemed to bloom flowers. Deep in his heart, Lu Qiantang vaguely felt the man with the wooden sword must be of low birth—though he found it hard to believe, perhaps even unwilling to believe. For this servant of Northern Liang, he would rather have Xu Fengnian be a simple-minded, hollow master. Serving would simply be easier. One Xu Dazhuguo already made him too nervous to breathe properly; if Xu Fengnian also turned out to be as ambitious and talented as a great statesmen, “serving a king as perilous as tigers,” who knows—after offending Prince Jing’an today, would Prince Guangling be tomorrow’s threat? And the day after? How many more years of sword practice could Lu Qiantang, still chasing profound mastery in sword arts, even hope to survive?
Walking back to the inn with Qingniao, Xu Fengnian mused aloud, “Wen Hua refused to meet Li Chungan, but if I had mentioned the name of the old sword immortal, do you think that kid would regret it? I bet he would—maybe even roll on the ground wailing. Still, he’d walk away anyway. That’s where I fall short compared to Wen Hua. He always insists on doing the impossible; every time a martial arts tournament appeared for a bride, he’d rush up eagerly. While other martial artists leaped gracefully onto the stage, he had to take the stairs like anyone else, pretending to be thick-skinned while secretly caring deeply about every scornful glance. No matter how many times he got beaten off the platform, he would still rush back up at the slightest opportunity, puffing up his cheeks to put on a strong front just for a chance to spar. In the end, though, he never seemed to learn anything. What was it all for anyway?”
As he rambled on, Jiang Ni and the old sword immortal left the inn to tour Shouyang Lake. Xu Fengnian waved a kind smile their way, only for it to go completely unnoticed. After breakfast, Xu Fengnian returned to his room and began sorting through martial arts texts and techniques stored in his memory—essences from supreme manuals like *The Record of Sword Practice in the Green Water Pavilion* and *The Whale-Killing Sword*. Normally, it would be ideal to get help and guidance from Li Chungan for such work. Xu Fengnian’s insight wasn’t yet sharp enough to claim to critique martial arts strategies on his own. Yet even thinking about it with his knees told him the old sword immortal, who dared to tear *The Thousand Swords Compendium* to shreds, wouldn’t even bother speaking. Sigh… how great it would be if the face like a white fox were around! Still, on the boat, Li Chungan had shared a mysterious technique—an explanation of sword strokes and sword qi so profound yet simple that it deeply benefited Xu Fengnian. Before then, he felt like a foolish man lost amid a mountain of treasures, gold scattered everywhere, eyes too dazzled to choose what to take. Now, finally, he had a better idea of what to do.
Yu Youwei knocked on the door carrying Wu Meiniang, and Qingniao opened. Yu Youwei said she wanted to sightsee and Xu Fengnian didn’t stop her, giving orders for Shu Xiu and Lu Qiantang to serve as attendants. Noticing Xu Fengnian didn’t plan to go with her, Yu Youwei’s expression dimmed, her interest waning. Xu Fengnian noticed but stayed firm in his choice. Since Jiang Ni had no time for reading, Xu Fengnian sent Qingniao to fetch some martial arts manuals from the book chest. One of them, specifically requested, was *The Arm Manual*, a classified treatise on spear techniques. It was commonly believed to be authored by Wu Shu, known as “The Charging Horse Spear” master. Xu Fengnian took such a keen interest because Li Chungan had once mentioned this book. The old sword master flipped through a few pages and declared it to be a secret record of Wang Xiu—the young spear immortal. Later, as he gained fame, Wang found this early work crude and disowned it, falsely attributing it to his favorite disciple, Wu Shu. As Xu Fengnian flipped the pages, he noticed Qingniao looked odd and asked, “Do you know Wu Shu?”
Xu Fengnian asked offhandedly, not expecting a response. But Qingniao nodded lightly.
Wang Xiu was one of the Four Great Masters, equal in fame to Li Chungan. His spear techniques were considered the finest of the time. His younger brother now served as Xu Xiao’s personal guard and had taken Wu Shu as a student. Yet Wang’s most outstanding disciple, Chen Zhiba, surpassed even his master, becoming a legend himself. Rumor had it that his final duel met its end at the hands of the “Little Butcher.” Strangely, Wang Xiu’s legendary weapon, the Chana Spear, had never resurfaced after his death. Also, since Chen Zhiba’s betrayal and slaying of his master was so controversial and he’d worn white clothes and carried a sword for years, few people truly believed the rumors. Chen was already renowned at twenty. Unlike Wang, who did not enjoy lasting vigor into old age like Wang Xianzhi, instead losing his edge and fading away, his killing of Wang Xiu still shocked the world. Yet Chen Zhiba undeniably carried forth Wang Xiu’s legacy. Like Master’s freezing and deadly spears, he charged into battle, relentless and fearless, offering neither himself nor his enemies any path to escape. And yet, with Xu Fengnian’s status, he had never actually witnessed Chen Zhiba’s spear skills. In his mind, the “Little Butcher,” known for his White Horse and White Robe, looked more like a show-off than any great warrior—always kind and gentle, almost like a compassionate Bodhisattva.
Xu Fengnian frowned, “Have you two crossed swords before?”
Qingniao shook her head. Seeing her hesitation, Xu Fengnian didn’t press. Curious as he was, he restrained himself. Ever since the first time he saw her, led by his mother’s hand, he only remembered her name: Qingniao. Since then, he had never sought any deeper understanding, simply accepting things as they were. Over time, he had grown so comfortable with it that he had entirely forgotten that behind every name stood a real person, complete with a surname and story. Take the servant girl Hong She, whose real name was Song Xiaoyu. But whether Qingniao was her actual name or just a nickname, Xu Fengnian had no idea at all. After returning from his journey, he realized the Wutong Yuan was certainly not a shallow pond. The maids weren’t just simple decorations without stories behind them. Yet with Qingniao, Xu Fengnian selfishly wished she’d stay exactly who she was—the girl his mother brought along who had grown up with him, the childhood companion.
*The Arm Manual* symbolized a spear in one’s hand as a third arm. Describing the intricate and profound art of the spear, Xu Fengnian roughly selected three techniques from it. Counting fingers, it joined sixteen other techniques Xu Fengnian had painstakingly gathered from various manuals and classics. According to Zhao Gugu in Qingyang Palace, one must first have fifty techniques to stand undefeated under heaven. Yet whether the techniques Xu Fengnian selected could truly be incorporated into his saber skills wasn’t certain, and even the sheer number fell short of fifty. Since witnessing the old sword immortal’s legendary finger-snap swordplay aboard the boat, Xu had developed the unique habit of flicking his fingers at nothing. He snapped them lightly against the cover of *The Arm Manual*, mentally compiling the only sixteen life-saving techniques he had. Before entering Xiangfan City, the Great Huangting technique had only reached the second floor of profound depth within him—enough for a single slash to pierce six layers of armor. The red-robed lama, looking like an Avalokiteshvara in white, had seen him to possess three layers. Xu weighed his abilities, concluding that breaking nine layers of armor was no problem at all. A mere increase of three might seem marginal, but the improvement was colossal. Most importantly, he could now wield the Chunlei saber without the previous sluggishness. The right sabre, Xiu Dong, moved with finesse, and the left, Chunlei, with force. Dual-sabres against enemies, their styles distinct—one swift, one heavy. This mastery formed the foundation for Xu Fengnian’s confidence in his saber techniques, refined to perfection. In addition, the fist techniques taught by Hong Xixiang the Daoist, along with *The Commentary on the Coherence of Daoist Principles*, helped Xu Fengnian recover from being intimidated by just a few of Li Chungan’s sword strokes. “Let them be high, I shall rise higher still.”
At noon, lunch at the tavern buzzed with bold conversations, spitting saliva as they spoke. Jiang Ni listened with fascination, while the old sword immortal, wrapped in a stinky fur coat, rolled his eyes frequently, one leg perched on the bench, chewing meat noisily and picking at his ears.
The Martial and Beauty Rankings had become a major event stirring both scholarly circles and martial circles. Perhaps because there is no first among literary pursuits, the Literary Rankings rarely stirred enthusiasm. By contrast, the Martial and Beauty Rankings became the center of everyday chatter. This generation’s Martial Rankings honored eighteen top-grade experts, with the top ten drawing the most attention. As expected, Wang Xianzhi, the leader of the Wudi City, retained his seat as the “Second Under Heaven.” Next came Deng Tai’a, the new sword immortal humorously dubbed the “One Hundred Years Second.” The third place went to a familiar face, Cao Guanzi, praised for carrying “eight out of ten parts of the scholars’ elegance under heaven.”
This brought a major piece of news: Wang Mao, ranked fourth, claimed it a disgrace to be placed after Cao Guanzi but beneath Hong Jingyan of the Northern Meng, seventh on the list. Since Hong had never before appeared on the rankings, he suddenly found himself at the center of public debate, rivaled only by the resurgence of the old sword immortal, Li Chungan, as the hottest topic of the season. Meanwhile, the secondary ranking of the Martial Rankings featured an interesting theory called the “Four Quarters”—Western Avalokiteshvara, Eastern Sword Crown, Southern Lüzu, and Northern Zhenwu. Of the four, Xu Fengnian had already met three: the Daoist with the cow, the Wusha sword grave Wulvding, and the white-robed Avalokiteshvara female lama. Only Xiao Lüzu—Qi Xianxia of the Dragon and Tiger Mountains—remained unseen. Actually, the latter had seen Xu Fengnian long ago at the fishing platform over the city tower.
Beyond the main and secondary martial rankings, the Beauty Rankings also stirred great excitement. Nan Gong Pushe and Chen Yu took the first and second spots. Unlike the others who had made an impressive and early debut in the world, these two remained relatively unknown, making their charm all the more captivating. The highlight for Xu Fengnian, though, was that his second sister had not only made the Literary Ranking but also claimed the top spot in the Beauty Ranking’s secondary list. In addition, Wang Dongxiang, who had brought him across the sea atop the great turtle, had found her place in both the Literary and Beauty Rankings’ secondary tiers. Although she didn’t reach the top, for a young girl without an especially distinguished background, it was a rare honor across the land.
At this moment, Xu Fengnian realized why the gloomy father and son within the city had gone silent. Glancing at the old sword immortal sitting opposite him—so skilled at drawing countless scornful glances—he thought to himself: with the entire Jianghu aware that this former immortal, who once claimed to have a sword against the heavens, was now guarding by his side, the so-called heroes in Xiangfan City who fancied themselves righteous saviors wouldn’t dare show themselves. Not even with the courage of ten tigers could they dare strike.
Hearing the crowd around her speak ill of the old sword immortal—”out of the mountains only to become the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion’s henchman”—Jiang Ni grew furious. Everyone was saying he had lost his senses in old age, bringing disgrace to his legacy. And with Li the Old Sword Sage acting exactly that way, he would probably never beat Deng Ta’a for the title of supreme swordsman. Her anger flared, especially as she watched the old man eat and drink as if nothing were wrong. She burst out, “Hey, you don’t hear all this, huh? They’re saying terrible things about you!”
Old Li chuckled, “Heard ’em loud and clear. My ears still work.”
She was angry at his indifference. She slammed her chopsticks down, thrust out her little hand, pouting in defiance, “Return my talisman!”
The old sword immortal pretended surprise, “Eh? What are you talking about?”
Jiang Ni repeated sternly, “My talisman. Now.”
Still feigning ignorance, the old man asked, “What talisman?”
Her eyes flashed with frustration a few times before she finally gave up, turning her back on him in silence. The image of an old man capable of cleaving rivers with a single sword stroke, yet letting others insult him with impunity, was too maddening to even look at. Xu Fengnian, amused at her childish antics, chuckled aloud. Jiang Ni found that sound especially grating and scowled fiercely, “What’re you laughing at?! I’m not reading today!”
Xu Fengnian smiled and said, “Alright, fine, let me explain. What kind of dignity does the old sword immortal possess? Why should he be bothered by squabbling with these shortsighted folks? Can you really expect the eighth greatest swordsman under heaven to fight with every one of these people?”
Jiang Ni snorted, “Eighth! Only the eighth!”
Xu Fengnian raised his chopsticks, threatening to tap her, but ultimately didn’t carry through.
Old Li rubbed his chin and murmured, “Yeah, just eighth. Who on earth made these rankings anyway? Gotta have words with ‘em. I was once the number one swordsman in all the world, so how come I’m not even in the top ten anymore? Gotta argue about this.”
Xu Fengnian sighed, “And my Yellow Mute Brother didn’t even make the secondary martial list. That definitely needs some complaining too.”
The old sword immortal laughed, “Though I’ve never set eyes on the boy myself, from what I’ve heard around your mansion, this Born with the Adamantine Body freak probably won’t have rivals in the The Xuanzhi Realm within a few years. I’ve met Zhao Xitou from Longhu Mountain a few times. The old scruffy Taoist may not be much with his hands, but his eyes are quite sharp. If all goes well, Xu Longxiang might well land in the top three in the next martial ranking. If no one as extraordinary as Wang Xianzhi ever rises in the next twenty years, who knows—maybe even number one. Of course, with someone like Hong Xixiang from Wudang, who treads the path of celestial Dao, it’s hard to even talk about being number one. I once claimed to be unbeatable myself, but I was just being boastful. Never did fight Qi Xuanzhen in a real battle, after all. Hey, that’s odd. Xu Xiao has four children: Xu Weixiong and Xu Longxiang, both extraordinary talents. So how come you turned out so ordinary, barely able to fart out a decent move?”
Xu Fengnian laughed without shame, “Can’t have one family grabbing all the luck under heaven. Got to leave some for others.”
At that moment, a group of young scholars entered the building. Their faces flushed with anger, they cursed someone for defecating right in front of the *Stone Tablet of Shouyang Lake Dam*. Xu Fengnian noticed Jiang Ni watching him and asked, “Looks like me, does it?”
Jiang Ni sneered, “Of course it was you!”
Xu Fengnian raised a thumb, “Smart girl!”
After that, Jiang Ni couldn’t finish her meal.
Xu Fengnian asked, “So you’re really not reading today?”
Jiang Ni kept her face hard.
He asked again, “Back on Laoshan, you spent a full tael of silver. Not regretting it? Not thinking of earning it back?”
Jiang Ni stayed silent, but in the afternoon, she stood outside Xu Fengnian’s room with a book in her arms, waiting half the day without knocking.
Xu Fengnian decided not to let her hesitate any longer; he stepped out from his room, smiling, “Alright, if you don’t want to read today, I won’t bother listening to any stories. Let’s go out and play.”
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