Under the cover of night, Bai Huerlian stood on the third-floor balcony of Tingchao Pavilion. It was hard to believe that this grand mansion, second only to Prince Yan’s in scale among the Seven Princes, had no true master. The Princess had passed away early, Xu Xiao, stripped of his title as Grand Marshal, remained far away in the capital, and even the Crown Prince had left Beiliang. His eldest daughter, Xu Zhihu, was married off, like water poured into another vessel. His second daughter, Xu Weixiong, had claimed the runner-up position on the Beauty’s Secondary List, a ranking based purely on talent rather than appearance, and was still studying at the prestigious Shangyin Academy. As for the youngest son of the Beiliang King, Huang Man’er Xu Longxiang, he was cultivating his martial prowess at the Dragon-Tiger Mountains. This made Bai Huerlian, in moments of rare leisure, chuckle at himself with a touch of self-mockery. When he first met Xu Caobao, a boy no different from a refugee or beggar, who could have foreseen that he would one day ascend to the third floor of the Martial Repository? Originally, he had braced himself for the worst-case scenario—striking a deal with the Beiliang King and resigning himself to reading every book in Tingchao Pavilion. Later, when he borrowed the twin blades Xiudong and Chunlei from Xu Fengnian, he felt no regret or reluctance. For him, aside from preserving his life for martial cultivation, there was little else worth clinging to.
Leaning against the slightly cool railing with both hands, Bai Huerlian’s thoughts drifted far. Like most people, he had once held a strong prejudice against Xu Xiao, the man who had carved out this illustrious estate through conquest. But after living here for over a year and reflecting on that hunchbacked, limping old man, he found himself filled with genuine admiration.
“Any who dare raise weapons against the eleven Yi within and without, shall be beheaded on the spot!” “All lands under the sun and rivers shall serve the Liyang Dynasty!”
These bold proclamations were not the empty boasts of poets or scholars, but the words of Xu Xiao himself, a man long criticized by literati for his lack of education. What made it even more remarkable was that he had nearly fulfilled these words—it was nothing short of miraculous.
“Master Nangong, it’s rare to see you slacking off.”
A cold, slightly amused voice came from behind Bai Huerlian. He turned around and shook his head. “I dare not be called Master by Strategist Li.”
“Congratulations on reaching the third floor. Faster than I expected—by about a year.”
The speaker was none other than the national strategist Li Yishan. In the Spring and Autumn Warring States, a time of brilliant minds and brilliant strategies, he still stood out among the best. Back then, he and Zhao Guangling of Xishu were known as the right and left arms of the Butcher of Men, Xu Tu. Zhao was on the left, Li on the right—essentially one for strategy, one for decisions. Zhao excelled in open, righteous schemes, while Li specialized in secret, underhanded plots. Many of the ruthless, soul-staining strategies were his doing, and together, they complemented each other perfectly. Zhao Guangling died of illness and hemorrhage in the land of Xishu, his merits and faults now lost to the drifting clouds. Li Yishan remained in Tingchao Pavilion, advising the Beiliang King, though his complexion was clearly that of a man nearing death. Indeed, during the fall of Xishu, when he proposed the slaughter of all who stood taller than a cart, regardless of age or gender, it was Li Yishan who gave the order. Even today, the name Li Yishan is enough to silence crying children in Shuzhou. A man who would sacrifice his heavenly blessings and accumulate karmic sins for the sake of achievement—how could such a man live long?
Bai Huerlian asked, “There is something I do not understand. I wish to seek your counsel, Strategist Li.”
Li Yishan nodded, smiling. “Speak freely. I will answer all.”
Bai Huerlian was not one for pleasantries. He asked directly, “The Beiliang King is widely regarded as a general, a man capable of leading soldiers, but not a commander of commanders. In the Spring and Autumn Warring States, the other three great generals rarely led from the front like the Beiliang King. At the Battle of Xilei Wall, the most legendary and grandest battle in history, he still handed over command to you and Chen Zhibao, and led elite cavalry straight into the enemy’s heartland. Why must the Beiliang Army belong to the Xu family, and not another?”
Li Yishan gazed at the still waters of Tingchao Lake, where no bait had been cast, and smiled faintly. “Back then, Zhao Guangling and I often argued over this very question, but neither of us could convince the other. The answer does not lie with me—it lies with Xu Xiao and Xu Fengnian. Master Nangong, you may continue to watch from the sidelines. Zhao Guangling… unfortunate to have been born in chaotic times. Had he lived in a peaceful era, he would have been a capable statesman, second only to Zhang Julu. Our greatest disagreement was over who should command the Beiliang Army—should it be the Xu family’s descendants, or someone else? That’s why I told Xu Xiao that it was fortunate Zhao Guangling died early. With his rigid, black-and-white morality and intolerance for evil, he would never have accepted our Crown Prince, whether he was truly concealing his talents or truly a wastrel. As for me, I may not match his brilliance in strategy, but I am far more tolerant in temperament, which is why I’ve lived longer. Do you think Xu Fengnian visits me with wine every few days for no reason? That boy is clever. Zhao Guangling disliked such petty cunning, but I appreciate it. When he was a strategist, he personally oversaw every detail in the war tent. I, on the other hand, am more laid-back, so I saw many things, learned much about the Crown Prince’s nature. I watched him grow up. Once, because of the armored maid Zhao Yutai, he angered the Princess and was punished to stand facing the wall with two heavy books in his arms, repenting his mistake. What a small child he was—how long could he hold on? Yet he refused to admit fault, nor would he cheat—he held one book on his head, another clenched in his teeth. That kind of spirit and character—exactly like the Princess’s. Of course, this is a small matter, but it tells us little. Whether our Crown Prince can smoothly inherit the throne and command the thirty thousand iron cavalry remains uncertain.”
Bai Huerlian hesitated slightly before asking, “Are you not concerned about the Little Butcher?”
Li Yishan, always sensitive to the cold, even in the summer, felt the chill of the night breeze on Qingliang Mountain. He took a swig from his gourd to warm his stomach before sighing deeply. “Xu Xiao may not fear him, but I do. Even an outsider like Master Nangong sees it—how could the Crown Prince and Chen Zhibao, locked in their silent duel, be unaware? Just thinking of how Chen Zhibao rode alone, dragging the wife and daughter of General Ye Baikui of Wusheng to death, I cannot help but fear him. Perhaps you do not know—Chen Zhibao’s swordsmanship is no small feat, but his spear techniques are even more brilliant. He has already reached the level of his master, the Spear Immortal Wang Xiu. As for his military strategy, he always seeks to strike decisively in one blow—his methods beyond warfare are no different. You must know, many things in this world are beyond one’s control. Back then, Zhao Guangling and I, along with many trusted advisors, repeatedly urged Xu Xiao to rebel. Though Xu Xiao had the restraint, who knows if Chen Zhibao does? The Emperor in the capital has spent the last decade weaving his schemes. I do not hide out of fear for my life, Master Nangong. I only fear the collapse of this great house, for the sake of that white-robed, drum-beating Princess.”
Bai Huerlian seemed to be infected by the grim aura Li Yishan unknowingly exuded, his mood growing heavy.
Li Yishan exhaled deeply, raised his gourd, and took another swig of strong wine before laughing heartily. “Today, I’ve shared these words with you, Master Nangong, simply hoping that when the time comes for you to ascend to the top of the pavilion and leave Tingchao behind, you will remember this simple bond. That boy’s clever tricks—they were all taught to him by this dying old man. Do not be angered by his slyness, Master Nangong. If his nature is like the Princess’s, then it cannot be bad.”
Bai Huerlian merely nodded.
Li Yishan knew that was enough. The old warrior, who had seen countless battles, murmured in a daze, “Now is a time of peace. Not only commoners, but even young generals cannot imagine the grandeur of tens of thousands of armored soldiers clashing in battle. Though such scenes leave behind mountains of bones, they still stirred countless men to march forward. Beiliang is a fine land—northern horses galloping with pride, southern songs fading into death. To mourn the fall of a nation without sorrow—that is true magnanimity. I wonder if I will live to see Fengnian lead his cavalry across the battlefield, trampling the thirteen provinces of the Northern Barbarians.”
“The sound of wind, rain, thunder, and the great river—it cannot compare to the sound of Beiliang’s galloping hooves.”
Li Yishan laughed and turned to leave the balcony. Bai Huerlian gazed at his thin, frail back, his heart heavy with a thousand emotions.
Bai Huerlian turned his gaze once more to the distant horizon, suddenly frowning. He seemed to regret not agreeing to leave Liangzhou with him after all. Irritated by this uncharacteristic sentiment, he let out a cold snort and forcefully suppressed it.
Once calm again, Bai Huerlian narrowed his peach-shaped eyes—perhaps even more beautiful than Xu Fengnian’s—and gazed toward the East Sea, gritting his teeth. “The Second Under Heaven, huh?”
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