The undercurrents at the Guniu Gang were surging. The news of twenty riders dying near Zhizhang City in Hezhou had spread throughout Huishan. The leader, Yuan Ting-shan, had vanished without a trace. Rumors ran wild, with countless bizarre theories. Some claimed that the Prince Guangling, Zhao Yi, had mobilized his ironclad cavalry to seize a woman. Others whispered that Yuan Ting-shan, fated to be a solitary star, had brought calamity upon his family, drawing the attention of Zhao Gou and costing the family their valuable cavalry. There were even murmurs that the young pair from the Murong family were no ordinary mortals, protected by celestial beings. All these tales were told with great conviction, yet shrouded in secrecy. Since the old patriarch had secluded himself in deep meditation for many years, and the current head of the Xuan Yuan family, Xuan Yuan Guo Qi, was engaged in a sword discussion in the Eastern Yue Sword Pond, the estate atop Guniu Gang was leaderless. With factions already entrenched within the family and the eldest branch at odds with the others, no one could quell the growing unrest.
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng hailed from the main branch of the Xuan Yuan family, the legitimate heir to the clan. Unfortunately, her father, Xuan Yuan Jing-cheng, remained useless despite the old patriarch’s deliberate cultivation. What could be done with someone who couldn’t be propped up? Large families had their advantages—they could simply replace him. Xuan Yuan Qing-feng had two uncles, Xuan Yuan Jing-yi and Xuan Yuan Jing-xuan. The former was steady and dependable, while the latter was ambitious and particularly gifted in martial arts, standing just a hair’s breadth away from the Master level. It seemed as though a mere dampened finger could pierce through that final barrier. Thus, Xuan Yuan Jing-xuan’s branch of the family, bolstered by his achievements, became arrogant and domineering on Huishan.
Yet among all the people on Huishan, the one Xuan Yuan Qing-feng most did not wish to see was her own father, that man who always meekly nodded in agreement.
In ordinary aristocratic families, such behavior from the eldest grandson might still allow him to maintain a decent, courteous image. But this was Guniu Gang—a martial arts stronghold where the Xuan Yuans stood alongside the Wu family sword tomb and the Liu clan of Western Shu as equals. What good were thousands of scrolls of books compared to fists capable of shattering mountains and shaking cities? Everyone on the mountain knew that Xuan Yuan Jing-cheng not only indulged his only daughter’s every whim but was also utterly dominated by his wife, never entertaining the slightest thought of taking concubines. Though the Xuan Yuan family was so dominant that anyone wishing to ascend the mountain had to adopt the Xuan surname, many martial talents had married into the family. Yet the main branch remained without a male heir to carry on the lineage. Even if Xuan Yuan Qing-feng eventually succeeded in bringing a distinguished man into the family, the main branch would still struggle to hold its head high. Over the years, the branch had grown increasingly disunited, scattering like sand and defecting to the rising other two branches. Xuan Yuan Jing-cheng had become a complete outcast. Everyone even knew that his wife, who had borne him a daughter, still loved someone else. From the beginning of their marriage, she had made the audacious stipulation that they would have only one child, regardless of gender. When Xuan Yuan Qing-feng was born, Xuan Yuan Jing-cheng indeed kept his promise.
As a child, Xuan Yuan Qing-feng paid no heed to her mother’s ever-present melancholy, thinking her father had done nothing wrong by never raising his voice. As she grew older, however, and came to understand the weight of martial traditions that had dominated the Xuan Yuan family for centuries, she realized how fatal her father’s passivity was. The more she matured and became entangled in worldly affairs, the more she wanted to distance herself from this ineffectual man, further and further.
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng escorted Song Ke-li down Huishan. Regarding this Song family prodigy, she naturally felt a sense of guilt. The Song family’s prestigious status as a top-tier noble house in the kingdom was well-established, especially considering their three generations of single heirs. Song Ke-li’s importance was self-evident. Associating with the Xuan Yuans was already beneath his station. Though the Xuan Yuans wielded great influence in the martial world, it was negligible to the imperial court’s central ministers. After encountering Song Ke-li, who was escorting a coffin southward, Xuan Yuan Qing-feng had gone to great lengths to meet and befriend him. With Song Ke-li’s discerning eye, he likely saw through her intentions, yet he didn’t mind her using him—or rather, the Song family name—as a means to assert her position within the Xuan Yuan family. He not only visited Huishan but also appeared to get along famously with Xuan Yuan Jing-cheng on Guniu Gang, granting a tremendous face-saving gesture. Even though Xuan Yuan Qing-feng naturally held no affection for scholars and bookish types, she developed some indescribable feelings for Song Ke-li, whether out of gratitude or admiration.
What about that self-assured Yuan Ting-shan, whose ambitions were laid bare without restraint?
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng pondered inwardly: if he truly died, would she feel regret? As she walked down the stone path from the mountain, she gazed at the Six-Fold Sister Waterfalls. Song Ke-li smiled and said, “I’ve learned some face-reading from my father. Yuan Ting-shan is not easy to die. His fate is extremely poor, yet his life is exceptionally hard.”
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng felt uneasy and was about to explain something when Song Ke-li gently said, “Miss Xuan Yuan, you worry too much.”
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng remained silent, fearing she might overdo it, for some things only grew darker the more she tried to clarify. They walked quietly along the path until they reached the foot of the mountain, where boats were moored. Suddenly, Song Ke-li stopped, hesitated, and finally spoke, “Master Shouzhuo is a man of vast learning, with profound insights into the doctrines of the three teachings. These past few days, I’ve had the privilege of late-night discussions with him, gaining much benefit. He said that any understanding derived merely from sitting quietly and reading scriptures is like looking at plums or drawing cakes—useless to satisfy hunger or thirst. His words opened my eyes. In the past, I always remembered my family’s teachings to be humble in all things and never to be arrogant, but I never truly understood why I should be humble. My childish behavior must have seemed laughable to the wise. Miss Xuan Yuan, please forgive my frankness, but Master Shouzhuo is no common man.”
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng’s eyebrows lifted in a smile, though she seemed somewhat unconvinced, and teased, “Did my father send you to be a mediator? Did he give you a few rare books?”
Song Ke-li was momentarily stunned, murmuring, “As the saying goes, a father knows his child best. Everything is as Master Shouzhuo predicted.”
As Xuan Yuan Qing-feng stood puzzled, Song Ke-li turned and bowed toward Guniu Gang, his joy evident, saying, “I truly admire him.”
Watching Song Ke-li’s back as he boarded the boat, Xuan Yuan Qing-feng was left completely bewildered.
Standing at the bow of the boat, Song Ke-li slowly sailed toward the She River, not forgetting to wave to Xuan Yuan Qing-feng on the shore. Upon ascending the mountain, Song Ke-li had displayed the demeanor of a noble heir to perfection. Not only did he engage in endless discussions of Buddhism and Daoism with Master Shouzhuo, but he also exchanged martial insights with Xuan Yuan Jing-xuan with equal poise. In truth, there was no need for Xuan Yuan Qing-feng to go to such lengths. He would have visited Xuan Yuan Jing-cheng regardless. Whether this man was concealing his true abilities or not, his political acumen was sufficient to earn the old patriarch’s admiration. Song Ke-li’s late mentor had highly praised him, and Song Ke-li’s journey south to the Jian Province had two purposes: one was to fulfill his duty as a disciple by escorting his mentor’s coffin, but more importantly, he sought to test Xuan Yuan Jing-cheng’s capabilities. If the man possessed genuine talent, the Song family would not hesitate to support a scholar from a lesser clan, helping him consolidate his position. If he was merely a paper tiger, Song Ke-li could always turn to Xuan Yuan Jing-xuan, for this faction, rooted in Jian Province for centuries, could assist in many tasks unsuitable for scholars.
Before descending the mountain, Xuan Yuan Jing-cheng smiled calmly and said, “When scholars and butchers become neighbors, let the scholars speak when reason is needed, and let the butchers act when force is required. Supporting each other is mutually beneficial.”
Though this reassurance was significant, it was still insufficient for Song Ke-li to decide on an alliance through marriage with the Xuan Yuans. Marrying between aristocratic and common families was a grave taboo among the scholar-official class, second only to the extinction of one’s lineage. As the large boat sailed into the She River, the view opened up, and Song Ke-li felt an urge to sing a bold song of the great river. Deep down, the Song family’s young prodigy was far from conventional. The cries of ghosts in Xiangfan, the howls of apes on the Shu roads, and the vast river waves all stirred his poetic spirit. Unfortunately, though Song Ke-li was well-versed in scholarly discourse and rivaled the finest debaters, he struggled to compose grand poetry. Yet during his thousand-mile journey escorting the coffin, he would periodically release poetic masterpieces into the literary circles. Unknown to most, many of these were actually written by his father or grandfather. For a scholar to gain fame was no easy feat. To hope for a poem to shake heaven and earth? Nearly impossible. Without the endorsement of literary elders or the fervent admiration of students, even the finest works would be deemed merely “adequate.” Many celebrated poems today were initially overlooked, only gaining recognition centuries later after being praised and analyzed repeatedly by literary giants. Song Ke-li was all too familiar with this reality.
How many Wang Dongxiangs were there in the world? Besides, even a single book like “First Snowfall” contained half a million words.
As Song Ke-li was lost in thought, he caught sight of a grand ship approaching. Standing at its bow was a dashing young man in fine clothes, accompanied by a servant girl in green and an old man in a sheepskin coat with one arm. Song Ke-li paid no heed, assuming them to be ordinary pilgrims touring the Dragon and Tiger Mountains.
Song Ke-li’s stay at Huishan had a hidden motive—he had been waiting for the young prince of Beiliang. Unfortunately, he had tasks assigned by his father that could not be delayed further.
The two tiger cubs, finally free from the confines of the carriage, playfully fawned over Xu Feng-nian’s feet. Xu Feng-nian extended a finger, pointing toward the grand stone summit of Huishan, and asked, “Guniu Gang?”
The old sword sage grunted in agreement.
Xu Feng-nian squinted, his hand caressing the hilt of his sword, Spring Thunder. Unexpectedly, the recent pursuit of Xuan Yuan Ting-shan had ended in failure. According to Wei Shu-yang’s detailed account, the swordsman’s martial prowess wasn’t particularly extraordinary, still lagging behind young elites like Qi Xian-xia and Wu Liu-ding. Yet his wit and fortune were exceptional. The young prince did not grow angry. If the Prince of Jing’an, Zhao Heng, could lose both his wife and his men in the reed marshes, surely he, Xu Feng-nian, could afford to let Yuan Ting-shan slip away? Moreover, Yuan Meng had presented Beiliang’s military credentials to the prefect of Hezhou. The Xuan Yuan family’s violation of martial law was a given, yet the old man had ignored it completely. Even the chaos caused by Chu Lu-shan in Xiangfan seemed to hold no concern for him. Xu Feng-nian muttered, “What a stubborn old bone.”
The old sword sage picked at his teeth with a finger, smirking, “Scholars are as numerous as fish in this river. It’s only natural that a few bold and fearless ones emerge.”
Xu Feng-nian offered no comment.
The boat veered toward the foot of Huishan. Xu Feng-nian was eager to reach Longhu Mountain and had no intention of confronting the Xuan Yuans, merely chatting idly with the old sword sage.
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng stood at the foot of the mountain for a long time before finally preparing to turn back. Suddenly, her delicate eyes widened. She sprinted a few steps, confirming the figure at the bow of the approaching boat. Enraged, she recognized the man instantly. Even if he had changed into luxurious attire, she would recognize him—this man who claimed to be surnamed Xu, who had humiliated her alongside a swordsman with a wooden blade at the Wuzhou lantern market. Xuan Yuan Qing-feng scrutinized him closely, her heart filled with mockery. Don’t think that changing into fine clothes after swindling a few silver coins could make you a nobleman! Without Xuan Yuan Qing-feng uttering a word, Xu Feng-nian, who had been idly pointing out the sights of Huishan with the old sword sage, also spotted the woman. “Speak of the devil,” he chuckled, ordering the large boat to veer closer to Huishan. Leaning over the railing, he looked at Xuan Yuan Qing-feng, no more than ten paces away, and, imitating Wen Hua’s habit of mispronouncing a word, shouted, “Young lady!”
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng, forgetting all decorum, snapped, “You, Xu!”
What a warm and heartfelt reunion.
Xu Feng-nian clicked his tongue and said, “Since the lantern market, young lady, how have you managed to gain weight?”
Xuan Yuan Qing-feng gritted her teeth and sneered, “You dare to visit Huishan, and Xuan Yuan Qing-feng will certainly show you the hospitality of a host!”
Xu Feng-nian rested his cheek on his hand, grinning, “So you miss me that much, huh?”
A Xuan Yuan warship was docked at the foot of the mountain. Xuan Yuan Qing-feng ran aboard, ordering pursuit.
One boat didn’t hurry, while the other chased relentlessly. Soon, the distance between the two boats was only five zhang.
Xu Feng-nian slowly walked toward the stern, suddenly accelerating into a sprint. He leapt onto the railing and shot like an arrow toward Xuan Yuan Qing-feng. As she gaped in astonishment, he landed on the railing of her warship, looking down at the proud daughter of the Xuan Yuan family.
Xu Feng-nian glanced at the several Xuan Yuan attendants twitching with anticipation.
Just as he was about to speak, an unusual phenomenon erupted on the river.
A disheveled old Taoist was pole-vaulting toward them on a bamboo raft. On the raft, a thin, sallow-faced boy silently inhaled and exhaled. With a sudden thrust, the raft’s end plunged into the river, the other end shooting upward. Using the momentum, he leapt onto the large boat. Like a wild horse breaking free, he dashed forward, then sprang from the tips of his toes, causing the entire boat to sink. The force? In an instant, he soared high and landed heavily on the bow of Xuan Yuan Qing-feng’s ship. The warship trembled violently. Except for the old sword sage, Li Chuan-gang, everyone on both boats opened their mouths slightly in awe. Regardless of his martial arts skills, how could someone generate such force to submerge the ship by several feet?
The unremarkable, sallow-faced boy landed, turned, and threw himself at the young prince’s legs, hugging them tightly. With a heart-wrenching cry, he shouted, “Brother!”
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