The young nobleman, dressed in luxurious silks and mounted on a white horse, wielded a crimson spear. Even after slaying foes on the battlefield, he remained composed and smiling, causing the six hundred heavy cavalry of Qingzhou to tremble inwardly.
One must understand that the general who had just been pierced and fallen from his mount was a mighty warrior ranked among the top three in Xiangfan’s military might. Yet, in a single clash, he was slain with one strike. Moreover, seated atop his steed before him was none other than Prince Jing’an himself, the grandson of heaven, second only to the Kings of Yanche and Guangling among the six regional kings. Regardless of how illustrious the young heir of Beiliang’s lineage might be, he was still a junior. Far from the borders of Beiliang, how dare he act with such audacity? To defy openly the Prince of Jing’an, a man revered as a deity by the people of Xiangfan?
In an instant, the six hundred elite soldiers bristled with fury. At a single command from their dragon-robed lord, they would charge forward and crush all opposition. Whether you are the heir of Beiliang or not, even if the King of Beiliang himself stood here, what of it? Do you truly believe that cavalry across the realm are nothing but decorative pillows? Beiliang boasts thirty thousand ironclad riders as the strongest in the land, but Qingzhou is the first to challenge that claim!
Prince Jing’an wore a yellow imperial dragon robe embroidered with five-clawed dragons amidst waves of sea water, a garment of the highest rank, surpassing even the dual hues of blue and white. The dragon patterns on his robe were of the first class, even outranking those of Guangling in terms of ceremonial distinction. This clearly showed the Emperor’s special favor toward his brother, who had once vied for the throne alongside him, even granting him an exceptional status. For this occasion, Prince Jing’an did not carry his prayer beads as he usually did. Unlike the aging, increasingly obese Prince of Guangling, whose bulky frame made his dragon robe appear somewhat cumbersome, Zhao Heng wore his robe with perfect grace and elegance.
Slowly raising his hand and gesturing backward, six hundred armored riders immediately and precisely withdrew in unison, displaying their mastery of battlefield formations. Once the heavy cavalry had retreated fifty paces, Zhao Heng gently nudged the flanks of his western-bred Arabian steed and advanced steadily forward. Ignoring the corpse at his feet and the blood-stained crimson spear, he spoke calmly, “Even if eighty light cavalry are as valiant as they may be, they cannot withstand six hundred iron riders of Qingzhou.”
“That’s true. But eighty riders can still take two hundred lives with them,” Xu Fengnian replied indifferently, narrowing his eyes at the Prince of Jing’an, who had schemed so meticulously to send him to the grave.
Within the city of Xiangfan, mutual probing could be conducted with smiles and pleasantries. But here, all pretenses had been stripped away. Xu Fengnian, cornered and filled with murderous intent, had recently absorbed a massive influx of the Great Huang Ting energy. What had once been a manageable level of bloodlust had now been magnified a hundredfold, leading to the ruthless act of slaying the Qingzhou general with a single strike of his spear, the In an instant (Channa).
Yet, Xu Fengnian was no stranger to military affairs, nor was he so arrogant as to believe that eighty riders could defeat six hundred armored Qingzhou troops in a direct confrontation. Still, he would not allow his side to appear inferior. Moreover, the outcome of today’s battle outside the reed marshes would not be decided by mere cavalry and armor—it was merely an embellishment, not the decisive factor. Thus, the Prince’s arrival with his troops was, in a way, a gift—an opportunity for Xu Fengnian to win the loyalty of his light cavalry. He was more than happy to accept. He had long told Yu Youwei that gaining the hearts of men required more than mere small favors.
Even after being capsized on the river by Wu Liuding’s pole, Xu Fengnian had not truly believed that he had won the loyalty of the hundred riders led by Ning Emei. Beiliang’s famed thirty thousand cavalry were not all expert horsemen. Only a third were true cavalry, and only a third of those were elite riders. The eight hundred White Horse Righteous Cavalry (White Horse Volunteers) of the Fengzi Battalion were undoubtedly the best among them. The more skilled a warrior was, the harder it was to command their loyalty. Xu Xiao’s decision to grant one hundred riders to his son was not merely for show or protection—it was also a test. If he could not command even a hundred riders, how could he hope to lead the thirty thousand veteran soldiers of Beiliang in the future? Not only Xu Xiao, but any large family with a sprawling lineage would continuously evaluate and weigh their heirs. How much more so for those born into the imperial palace, where even becoming the crown prince did not guarantee peace or security.
Zhao Heng smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor denying, his previous feigned warmth now gone. The aura of a supreme ruler finally revealed itself in full.
Royal lineage naturally bore the weight of the realm’s fortune. The wise often spoke of how one who meets the winds and clouds may become a dragon—a saying not without truth. Confucian scholars emphasized the cultivation of qi, and Daoist sages possessed the ability to detect dragon veins and divine auras. Yet, those who possessed the heavenly dragon qi did not always rise with the winds and clouds. Many were constrained by their circumstances, leading to obscurity and confusion. Success lies in Heaven’s will, but planning lies in human effort—this is the profound meaning behind the dual paths of Heaven and Man. As for the ancient saying that human will can overcome Heaven, it is often misunderstood. In truth, it should mean that the collective will of the people can overcome fate.
Zhao Heng asked calmly at the battlefield’s edge, “Is Wang Mingyin dead?”
Xu Fengnian nodded and smiled, “The 11th strongest in the world indeed lived up to his reputation. Fortunately, my humble self has Old Sword Saint Li Chuan’gong with his Two Sleeves of Green Snakes.”
A subtle reminder that though the eighty riders could not stop Zhao Heng, there remained an unpredictable old swordsman who could not be measured by ordinary standards.
Zhao Heng did not seem surprised. Wang Mingyin had been a death-seeker from the start. Even if he had escaped, Zhao Heng would not have allowed him to leave the game. From the moment Wang Mingyin agreed to come to Xiangfan, his fate had been sealed. This was the root reason why martial cultivators usually avoided entanglement in palace struggles. In the end, they could not rival the net of swords and spears wielded by an army. What good is it to slay a hundred or a thousand when the Western Shu’s royal uncle, hailed as the Sword Saint of the age, was still cut down beneath the iron hooves of Beiliang’s cavalry, his body trampled into a pulp by countless horses? Better to roam freely in the jianghu as a carefree fish than to serve as a hound chasing after wealth and honor.
Xu Fengnian chuckled, “It’s no surprise Wang Mingyin came to Xiangfan. But a little girl riding a giant cat? That was quite a surprise. Meeting an old friend in a foreign land—I must thank Uncle Wang for your generous thousand-tael gift. Without your extravagant spending, how else would I have seen her true face? Hehehe…”
He unconsciously mimicked the girl assassin’s laugh.
Upon hearing this, Zhao Heng let out a quiet sigh, though his expression remained calm rather than darkened. If he were a man who could not bear defeat, how could he have survived until today? Besides, though he had lost this battle in the reed marshes, he had gained the upper hand in the political struggle behind the scenes. Was it only allowed for this young man before him to hide his true intentions? Zhao Heng laughed lightly, “Fengnian, will you now hold a grudge against your Uncle Wang?”
Xu Fengnian had not expected Zhao Heng to ask so directly. For a moment, he remained silent. The figure before him on horseback was a peer of Xu Xiao’s generation, a man who had once vied for the throne and lost, and later been overshadowed by Xu Xiao during the Spring and Autumn Wars. Yet in terms of scheming, Xu Fengnian did not dare to consider himself Zhao Heng’s equal. Otherwise, he would not have been so shaken during their conversation at the inn by the thin Sheep Lake. Today, Zhao Heng had unleashed a series of ruthless strategies, especially his willingness to abandon even his beloved wife. Truly terrifying! Xu Fengnian remained silent, and Zhao Heng did not press him. With a calm and composed demeanor, Xu Fengnian half-serious, half-jokingly laughed, “If Uncle Wang has no further farewell gifts, I dare not hold a grudge against my elders. I shall treat this as a priceless lesson, and in the future, I will not underestimate heroes beyond Beiliang.”
Zhao Heng, gripping the reins, instinctively rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, saying indifferently, “It so happens that I do have two small farewell gifts.”
Xu Fengnian’s sharp, narrow eyes flared with killing intent as he coldly replied, “Since Uncle Wang insists on giving, how can I refuse?”
What boldness!
Zhao Heng could not help but sigh. For some reason, he thought of his own eldest son, Zhao Xun. In terms of strategy and meticulousness, the two young heirs were evenly matched. But in terms of courage and boldness, Zhao Xun fell far behind. But it was not entirely his fault. Having grown up within the confines of the Jing’an Mansion, bound by the strict laws governing the feudal princes, Zhao Xun had little opportunity for real experience. And Zhao Heng himself, having remained confined to Xiangfan for over twenty years, knew that many lessons could not be passed down through words alone. Thus, Zhao Xun had inherited only the subtle and cunning side, lacking the boldness and ferocity forged on the battlefield. Such a ruthless and heroic spirit could not be cultivated merely by killing a few servants. Xu Fengnian, though bearing none of his father’s physical traits, had inherited his father’s cunning and temperament. Who else’s son would dare to kill openly on the battlefield? Zhao Heng clearly sensed the intense killing intent in Xu Fengnian, ready to destroy everything. He simply smiled, bent down from his horse, and handed over a long, embroidered silk-wrapped bundle. The chill from it pierced his skin.
Zhao Heng smiled, “Inside this sword case are half of an ancient sword and a martial arts manual, both obtained by me from the City of Martial Emperors. Fengnian, you practice the saber—this manual will be of use to you. As for the ancient sword, I might as well be honest. It was originally meant as a farewell gift for Old Sword Saint Li.”
Xu Fengnian asked in shock, “Half of the Wooden Horse Ox?”
Zhao Heng laughed aloud, “Indeed.”
Then Zhao Heng fixed Xu Fengnian with a direct gaze, for the first time not concealing his killing intent, and said coldly, “Do you believe that I am the only one in the world capable of persuading that Land Immortal to leave the City of Martial Emperors?”
Xu Fengnian slightly raised the tip of his spear, Channa, and smiled, “I believe it!”
Zhao Heng’s killing intent vanished in an instant, replaced by calmness and serenity. With a faint trace of melancholy, he tossed the sword case to Xu Fengnian, turned his horse, and without a change in tone, said, “The manual is the only surviving martial arts text of that person’s. Though nameless, it was written by one who has defeated countless sword masters in his lifetime. You will understand its weight. Xu Fengnian, should Zhao Xun ever have the chance to leave Qingzhou, whether it be to Beiliang or to return to that city, I hope you will not forget this small gift of today. Whether it be me or your father, we are both old men now. The stage will soon belong to you, to rise and fall as you will. The grudges between your father and me are settled today. Remember this: going against the tide is like drinking against one’s will, but flowing with the tide is like pouring tea—effortless, is it not?”
Xu Fengnian reached out, caught the sword case containing half of the Wooden Horse Ox, and held it close to his chest, saying nothing.
Zhao Heng, clad in his yellow dragon robe, rode off into the distance, leaving behind a trail of dust.
Xu Fengnian silently turned his horse and rode back, spear in hand and sword case in arm.
Each of the eighty riders watched with burning eyes as the horse formation parted a path in the center.
As Xu Fengnian passed through, he softly commanded, “Sheath your blades.”
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