Chapter 127: The Demon Lord

From beginning to end, Prince Jing’an Zhao Heng never mentioned his princess, Pei Nanwei.

Indeed, the hearts of nobles are thinner than paper.

After dismounting, Xu Fengnian approached the bodies and wounded of Beiliang’s light cavalry, planted the spear Channa upright on the road, and knelt beside a young cavalryman being bandaged by General Yuan Meng. Taking over Yuan Meng’s task, all the light cavalry clearly saw the Crown Prince’s practiced movements. Particularly when he lowered his head, biting the cloth knot tight, even General Ning Emi was moved. They had learned a little about the Crown Prince’s nature along the way—he risked his life to save others amidst the torrents of the Ghost Gate, but afterwards on the boat, he never became overly familiar with anyone. Later, in the battle with the Qingzhou navy, he led from the front without a hint of retreat—did he diminish the might of the Beiliang army? Even the heir of Prince Jing’an was thrown into the water like a drowned dog! Who dares still say that if he had been present back then, he wouldn’t have hanged Gu Jiantang’s former deputy commander, Dongjin, on the city walls of Yingchuan?

Today, without even mentioning how he boldly drew his blade to save himself, leaving a fleeting but dazzling sight of swordplay by Fengzi Camp, he personally led eighty cavalry against six hundred heavy cavalry and with a single spear strike felled and killed a mighty Qingzhou general of formidable strength!

Before battle, he only said, “Draw blades.” After battle, he only said, “Sheath blades.” Such composure—how similar to the King of Beiliang!

And now, silently tending to the wounds of a mere cavalryman whose rank differs by ten thousand miles—has he uttered even half a word of pretentious sentiment?

Before rising, Xu Fengnian quietly said to the cavalryman with red eyes: “I know your name—Wang Chong. You kept watch while I practiced swordplay at the bow of the boat on Chunshen Lake.”

Xu Fengnian paused: “The one who kept watch with you back then was Lin Heng. He died—killed by Wang Mingyin with a halberd. I remember how he quietly argued with you on the deck, and Lin Heng, rarely speaking for me, said I wasn’t just show. But he’s gone now.”

After rising, Xu Fengnian drew Channa and walked toward the carriage, saying calmly: “I hope no more will die.”

Ninety White Horse Righteous Cavalry (Baima Yicong), whether injured or not, knelt together and declared solemnly: “Fengzi Camp will fight to the death for the Crown Prince! We will not retreat!”

Far away, Princess Jing’an, Pei Nanwei, paled with a complex gaze.

※※※

Beside scattered huts in the reed marshes, an old man stood up, holding a handful of common grass used for divination—this was the lost ancient art of Yarrow Stalk Divination. Though yarrow grows everywhere, few can use it to glimpse the will of heaven. Thus, among the eight ancient divination methods, including tortoiseshell, Yarrow Divination is the easiest to learn but hardest to master. The old man, resembling a Confucian scholar, seemingly carelessly tore the stalks again and again, scattering them on the ground. As he walked out of the reeds, he coincidentally met a young man emerging from the dense reeds elsewhere. Behind the young man followed a formidable Red Armor Guardian, wielding a massive sword with an imposing presence.

The young man showed neither anger nor joy, merely muttering to himself. Upon seeing the old man, he showed no wariness at first, but rather concern that his guardian might startle the passerby. After a careful look, he relaxed and smiled brightly, revealing a set of white teeth, appearing unusually harmless. He stopped walking, clearly intending to let the elder pass first—whether out of respect for youth is uncertain, but certainly for age.

The old man seemed unfazed. As they passed each other, he softly said: “Zhao Kai, did your mother tell you that before giving birth to you, she dreamed the sky split open for several zhang, and four celestial beings carried the sun? Don’t doubt it. I personally witnessed a red sun shining at night, its glow circling the room when you were born. As for the white snake you beheaded at age six, the rumor that it was the son of the White Emperor is false—it was merely a trick I played to fulfill the prophecy of the Red Emperor slaying the White Dragon from the Astronomical Bureau. I did it just to tease that old fool, Nan Huaiyu.”

Zhao Kai stood there, stunned, then jogged to catch up behind the old scholar, grinning: “Old Master, do you know my mother?”

The old man chuckled teasingly: “Don’t worry, I’m not your grandfather.”

Zhao Kai laughed helplessly, waved his hand, and the Red Armor Guardian—capable of defeating four in one—vanished. Unfazed by the old man’s mysterious aura, he approached with a grin: “It would be great if you were! Old Master, why don’t you tell me some stories about my mother?”

The old man kept walking and shook his head: “They’re all sad tales—of betrayal and sorrow. What’s the point in telling or listening? Stories are just stories—things of the past. Talking too much brings no benefit.”

Zhao Kai flattered: “Heh, Old Master, you truly have great wisdom. No wonder even the Southern Director was deceived. That explanation of ‘story’ is truly brilliant!”

The old man laughed mockingly: “You brat, you still don’t know that Nan Huaiyu’s surname is Nanhuai, not Nan! That old fool practically wanted to give you his granddaughter.”

Zhao Kai exclaimed in surprise: “I really didn’t know the old Director was surnamed Nanhuai! Such an unusual double surname?”

The old man waved him off rudely: “Stay away from me. The aura around you is too strong—it might ruin my future games of chess. In the past twenty years, only a little girl surnamed Jiang could rival your fortune.”

Zhao Kai still acted clueless, stubbornly trailing behind the old man like he had found a treasure.

The old man glanced back: “The Zhao family producing a brat like you means their luck hasn’t faded. Earlier in the reed marsh, I spoke with a little girl. Go to the Carp Guanyin Temple ten miles away. She’ll come alone later. If she sees the firelight from the reeds, you must stop her. This girl holds the second-highest noble fate among the thirty-six female destinies—the Young Phoenix. You can keep her as a little wife. Also, in the temple, you’ll meet a Western Guanyin statue. If you gain her help, it’s like having forty Red Armors. She and a few others will be the top figures in the martial world ten years from now. In the past hundred years, only two or three Earth Immortals emerged, but this century is strange. Let me calculate—four, five, six, seven! At least seven, plus your destined rival, possibly eight. Heh, a rare spectacle in a thousand years. All thanks to two people—one far beyond the Northern Desert, and the other right here—you, Zhao Kai. You didn’t waste your rebirth. How can that Northern Liang heir win? I’m curious.”

The seemingly carefree young man asked with a smile: “Old Master, is the world going to fall into chaos again? Worse than the Spring and Autumn Wars?”

Mad ramblings or prophetic insight?

The old man merely glanced sideways: “Whether I say yes or no matters? Can’t you just wait and see?”

Zhao Kai frowned: “I’m afraid I won’t live to see that day.”

The old man scoffed: “You’re surprisingly amusing in your mediocrity.”

Zhao Kai scratched his head: “Not amusing at all. I was poor as a kid—just timid. But I truly admire your majestic walk, Old Master!”

As the old man was about to speak, Zhao Kai witnessed an astonishing sight—the very “majestic-walking” old master was sent flying by a girl wielding a sunflower with a powerful roundhouse kick. Fortunately, the old master dusted himself off and stood up unharmed. Probably too embarrassed to continue lecturing Zhao Kai, he quickened his pace. An even more absurd scene followed: a large cat leapt from the reeds, trailing behind the girl, disappearing together with the old man from sight. Zhao Kai, standing still, sincerely remarked: “Even falling flat on his face, Old Master still looks like an immortal. Respect!”

After pondering, Zhao Kai indeed set off to find the Carp Guanyin Temple.

Meanwhile, the old master Zhao Kai admired spoke earnestly to the girl: “Daughter, show me a little respect in front of strangers. I’ve taught you all my most life-saving martial arts. I don’t expect you to take care of me in old age, but at least give me a smile when we meet, right?”

The girl, carrying a sunflower on her shoulder and followed by a massive cat, hesitated, then forced a stiff smile with utmost seriousness.

The old man sighed: “Alright, alright.”

Then came a monologue from the old man, unanswered questions included: “I told you long ago that the Northern Liang heir is hard to kill, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you’ve failed. It’ll be harder next time.”

“As for Prince Jing’an, don’t target him. Zhao Heng still has some skill and fortune. Wang Laoguai has no children. Long ago, he made a pact with the late emperor, accepting Zhao Heng as a half-adoptive son.”

“If things go as expected, the martial world will soon flourish like the scholarly circles of a hundred years ago—many heroes rising together, unlike my time when I and Wang Laoguai stood alone, towering above all. Today, you killed Wang Mingyin. More opportunities await. But let me warn you—don’t rush to attack those who might ascend to the Earth Immortal realm. First, you might fail. Second, killing them might make the martial world too dull. Don’t fake a laugh, girl. I hate that sound. Think, daughter—wouldn’t it be better to kill them after they become celestial beings in the eyes of the world?”

“That Zhao boy just now? Especially don’t kill him. Otherwise, I wasted the effort of placing a white snake in front of him long ago. As for that ‘Young Phoenix’ destiny—I was bluffing. How many coincidences can there be in the world? If everyone had such fate, it’d be worthless.”

Sighing again, the old man asked: “By the way, do you still like collecting hairpins?”

The girl, usually giving a cute impression when not killing, finally mercifully grunted in agreement.

The old man, for once, showed helplessness.

Who is he?

I killed three hundred thousand with my tongue alone! Ranked among the three great villains of the age, alongside the Human Butcher Xu Xiao and the Human Cat Han Diaosi!

Among the Fourteen Sages of the Spring and Autumn Periods—military, Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism, swordsmanship, calligraphy, painting, tea, poetry—I monopolized the top three.

Looking at the clear sky, the old man squinted and suddenly said: “Thunder’s coming.”

The girl tiptoed, shielding the old man’s head with the sunflower, and chuckled.

The old man laughed joyfully: “Rolling thunder that could kill Qi Xuanzhen couldn’t kill me. Daughter, let me share a secret—I really am an immortal.”

The girl, quick to change her mood, kicked the old man flat onto the ground.

This time, with no one else around, the old man didn’t hurry to rise. Sitting in the dirt, he muttered: “My father once said, ‘All parents raise sons hoping for wisdom, but I was ruined by my own cleverness. I only wish my child were dull and simple, reaching high rank without disaster.’ That Human Butcher’s son never understood this. With his current achievements, if he had a conventional legitimate heir, he could secure generations of peace and wealth. Yet he refused such blessings, insisting on raising a The Big Dipper (Doukui)—a chaotic demon—for a son. It forced Xu Quezi to toil his whole life without a moment’s rest. What a pity! But since meeting you because of his son, I haven’t sabotaged him much. Now that he’s secured hereditary succession, from now on, let his son fend for himself. I’m curious to see how he’ll fight against the martial world, the court, and the entire realm.”

Turning to the girl, the old man murmured: “Is it worth it—for a hairpin?”

The girl still just grunted in agreement.

The old man shook his head, then nodded: “In this world, life is lighter than a hairpin. Right or wrong?”

He slowly stood up: “Let’s go. Soon, Qingzhou cavalry will use bandit suppression as an excuse to massacre. This reed marsh will still flourish next year, but those hundred lives will be gone.”