Xuanyuan Qingfeng, Qingfeng—truly not a name that brings joy and celebration.
Xu Fengnian traveled on a boat with Xuanyuan Qingfeng, the newly appointed head of the Xuanyuan clan, sailing out of the Dragon King River. It seemed she insisted on accompanying him all the way to the great river to at least outwardly fulfill the duties of a gracious host. Even though she hadn’t even warmed the seat of the head of the Niuniu Ridge household, she had already begun to play her role. Xu Fengnian didn’t mind her company; after all, his departure had been sudden, and many matters had been left unsaid or spoken too vaguely. Now, sitting at the bow of the boat, eating hawthorn and explaining things in detail to Xuanyuan Qingfeng, she responded to every inquiry with obedience, showing the demeanor of a well-trained puppet. Perhaps it was because of the harsh treatment they had received from her years ago at the Lantern Festival, together with Wen Hua. Now, seeing her acting so meekly without defiance, Xu Fengnian actually felt a bit uneasy. Back then, although Wen Hua carried a wooden sword and practiced a rather dubious martial art, especially after joining forces with the young prince, his swordsmanship remained muddled while his underhanded techniques had fully matured. After being chased for half the day by Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s servants like a rat in the streets, Wen Hua had been trampled underfoot but still stubbornly claimed, “I just don’t fight women—otherwise, with your build, I could take you down ten times over with just one hand!” At that time, the still carefree Xuanyuan Qingfeng had coldly ordered her men to release Wen Hua, then mercilessly lashed him from head to toe with her horsewhip. After Lao Huang dragged them away, Xu Fengnian had barely recognized Wen Hua, such was the severity of Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s beating. Since then, Wen Hua had dreamed of the day he would master swordsmanship and finally get revenge—vowing to beat her until her backside bloomed with bruises using his wooden sword. Every time he spoke of this, Wen Hua would lovingly gaze at Xu Fengnian, whose delicate, fair skin resembled a woman’s. The young prince would shudder with goosebumps under that gaze.
“That Wen fellow…”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng clearly hesitated for a moment, as if she had originally intended to add some derogatory remark like “wanderer,” but the tides of fate had turned. The lecherous beggar she had once encountered had unexpectedly become the eldest son of the most powerful warlord in the land. According to common sense, birds of a feather flock together. A young man who had engaged in shady dealings alongside the Beiliang heir must be either wealthy or noble, likely traveling under the guise of scholarly pursuits outside Beiliang. Thus, Xuanyuan Qingfeng asked a question that seemed reasonable: “Is he a scion of a noble family, wandering the land with a sword?”
Xu Fengnian merely laughed heartily without offering an explanation. After he had his fill of laughter, he slowly chewed on some hawthorn, spitting out a few tiny seeds. Seemingly offhandedly, he asked, “Your Huishan has a swordsman named Yuan Tingshan, I hear. You two are close?”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng, who had remained standing and thus maintained a superior posture, replied calmly, “When I descended the mountain, I had already sent guest master Hong Biao with over twenty elite warriors to surround Yuan Tingshan at the Sister Waterfalls.”
Xu Fengnian suppressed his inner shock, feigning amusement as he remarked, “So this is your way of showing loyalty to this young prince?”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng replied coldly, “So long as the Your Highness does not betray Huishan, Xuanyuan Qingfeng shall never betray the Your Highness.”
“You truly take after your father—same tone, same manner.” Xu Fengnian sighed sincerely. He grabbed a handful of hawthorn and slightly raised his hand, intending to offer it to the woman who currently shared his boat. Seeing her expressionless and motionless, he didn’t feel embarrassed and instead tossed a hawthorn into his mouth. Standing up, he gazed at the river. The view was wide and open, with gray geese flying in formation across the sky. His second sister, Xu Weixiong, had once told him that the leader of a goose formation was always an experienced old goose, whether flying south or returning north. Lost in thought, he was interrupted by Shu Xiu, who approached from the stern of the boat and reported that a raft was chasing them closely from the Huishan dock. Xu Fengnian walked to the side of the large vessel and spotted a familiar figure on the bamboo raft. It was the lecher who had barely escaped Qingniao’s deadly spear at the entrance of Niuniu Ridge. He fanned himself with a beauty’s fan, as if trying to fan away the autumn chill. Xu Fengnian despised such self-proclaimed romanticists of the martial world. Later, over thirty men had rushed to Daxueping, pretending to switch allegiances, but their flattery had landed on the wrong target. Those fickle fence-sitters had been immediately executed and hung at the entrance of the mansion. Seeing this man persistently chasing after him, Xu Fengnian wasn’t particularly bothered, though he found it odd that the raft also carried an innocent-looking child, with rosy lips and white teeth, appearing both adorable and endearing. Xu Fengnian was genuinely surprised—had it become fashionable nowadays to bring one’s entire family when seeking refuge?
The man, who had gained his reputation in the martial world through his lechery, desperately paddled his bamboo pole, striving to catch up with the large vessel. Finally managing to run parallel to it, he shouted loudly, “Your Highness, Long Yuxuan of Langya County in Jianzhou requests an audience!”
Xu Fengnian replied with a sneer, “Haven’t you already seen me? Are you taking your son out for fishing on the She River?”
Long Yuxuan, likely having his sore spot touched, grew visibly flustered and hastily explained, “Your Highness, I left in a hurry this time, and I have no idea how this strange child got onto my raft. I don’t even know the kid!”
To his dismay, the clean-faced, bright-eyed child suddenly cried out in a clear voice, “Father!” Immediately exposing Long Yuxuan’s lie. The poor guest, who had earned a minor reputation in the vast martial world, nearly spat blood in frustration. He turned to glare at the child clinging to his robe, his eyes blazing, “Who’s your father?! Are you trying to be my son or what?!”
The child burst into loud wails, his tiny hands tightly gripping Long Yuxuan’s robe as he sobbed pitifully, “Father, Mother died early, you can’t abandon me!”
Long Yuxuan was nearly driven mad with rage but didn’t move his feet. With his martial prowess as a Huishan guest, it would have been easy to kick the child into the river and feed him to the turtles. Long Yuxuan prided himself on having passed through countless flowers without a single petal sticking to him. His romantic escapades with the beauties depicted on peach fans were all fleeting encounters. Where would he have gotten a son? Did people really think it was easy to be a virtuous, refined lecher in these times? It required both charm and talent. Besides charming the young maidens obsessed with the classic romance novel “First Snow,” who dreamed of eloping with impoverished scholars, Long Yuxuan’s job was relatively easy—just waving his fan and composing poetry. But the daughters of noble families were different. With a single glance at his belt, jade pendants, and other small accessories, they could judge his worth. Wanting to ride like a chivalrous knight? Think again. Do you know how much a good horse costs? It’s a bottomless pit. Noblewomen had sharp, discerning eyes, and if you wanted to impress them with extravagant displays, you had to spend money like water. Long Yuxuan had spent lavishly for years without saving a single copper coin. The last time he had conned the daughter of a prefect, he had acquired a northern steed, a purple-liu, reputed to be worth its weight in gold. How much did that horse weigh? How much silver did that amount to? Long Yuxuan, short on funds, couldn’t afford it himself. He had borrowed it from a disreputable nobleman from another province. Thus, every time Long Yuxuan lovingly caressed his peach fan, he couldn’t help but shed bitter tears for himself. Joining Huishan as a low-ranking guest hadn’t brought much profit—it was merely a temporary shelter from the rain. Now, the ones holding the umbrella were all dead. Daxueping was indeed aptly named, with snow covering everything in white. It was said even the invincible old ancestor Xuanyuan Dapan had vanished without a trace, replaced by the young woman Xuanyuan Qingfeng holding the umbrella. Could her small hands really support a large umbrella? Seeing the young prince’s formidable methods, Long Yuxuan had resolved to follow him to Beiliang for a life of ease and pleasure. Rumors spoke of a Yanzhi County in Beiliang where the women were fair-skinned and delicate, soft enough to squeeze water from. Little did he know that a child had suddenly appeared, calling him “father.” How could Long Yuxuan not be furious?
Xu Fengnian exchanged a glance with Xuanyuan Qingfeng, who shook her head and whispered, “Each guest at Huishan has a secret file, and I remember every detail. There is no record of this man having any children.”
Xu Fengnian called out to Long Yuxuan on the raft, “If you want to prove he’s not your son, it’s simple—kick him into the river, and you can come aboard.”
Long Yuxuan was stunned.
Xu Fengnian waited quietly. If the man truly did such a ruthless deed, not only could the old sword saint Li Chungan save the child, but both himself and Qingniao could do so as well. As for this lecher, whether he came aboard or not no longer mattered—his fate would be sealed either way. Beiliang had countless capable individuals lured by wealth and fame. Niuniu Ridge, though towering high in the martial world, was insignificant compared to the vast Beiliang Prince’s Mansion. A Huishan guest—how much of a splash would he make in the Tingchao Lake? There were few as cruel and loyal as Chu Lushan, who had remained a faithful hound for over a decade. But even Chu’s ruthless methods were beyond what a mere lecher could match. News had come from Xiangfan, where a man with double pupils named Lu had caused chaos in the Jing’an Prince’s Mansion, turning it upside down.
But Long Yuxuan merely laughed and said, “Let us part ways here, Your Highness.”
Slowing his pace, he let the raft fall behind the large boat. Xu Fengnian suddenly widened his eyes in surprise as he saw the man raise his middle finger, then turn the raft around and flee back toward Huishan with all his might.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng slightly turned her head, her lips curling upward. She had originally disliked Long Yuxuan immensely, but his actions today revealed a genuine side to him, making her view him in a new light. Long Yuxuan’s reputation as a lecher was terrible, and his martial skills were nothing special. In her mind, he was not even worth the term “useless.” As a woman, she naturally despised his despicable ways. After taking over Niuniu Ridge, she had planned to give him a few useless secret manuals and some silver to send him packing from Huishan. Now, however, she had changed her mind. Though she had been forced by circumstances to serve the young prince, she found it immensely satisfying when someone could trouble him.
Xu Fengnian chuckled, “Brave man. He deserves a reward.”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng seemed to fear that this deep-thinking prince might harbor murderous intent. She softly said, “It’s difficult for the large boat to turn around. At the raft’s speed, he’ll soon reach the shore. If he escapes into the dense forest of Longhushan, the Daoist ancestral temple, it’ll be hard to find him again.”
Xu Fengnian said nothing, but he thought of another martial world—one that even Xuanyuan Qingfeng could not imagine. A world without sword saints like Qing She and Tianmen, without Cao Qingyi and Wang Mingyin, without the old ancestor of Huishan or the Confucian Immortal Lu Dianshen. Even someone like Long Yuxuan, who now seemed insignificant, would not exist there. Instead, there would be old servants with limping horses, petty bandits, wooden-sword wanderers, and a foolish beggar. Each day was about surviving, filling one’s stomach, and if one could fart with a hint of meat instead of just sweet potato and garlic, that would be a blessing. He clearly remembered the wooden-sworded wanderer who dressed shabbily to maintain appearances. His specialty was a dish made from yam, glutinous flour, and sesame oil. The yam was mashed and steamed until soft, the flour kneaded repeatedly and filtered through a grass sieve, then steamed in a bamboo basket. Sesame oil was heated in a wok, then scallions and garlic were added, stir-fried and stewed together. He had never tasted anything so delicious in his life. Every time, he and Wen Hua would fight over it, ending up with soot on their faces. After devouring it, they would lie flat on their backs, boasting and joking, criticizing the so-called heroes they saw in the market the day before as mere show-offs, drooling over the sight of a young maiden’s ample bosom from the second floor of a tavern two days earlier. Wen Hua couldn’t even afford an iron or bronze sword. After meeting him and Lao Huang, he would proudly lead his horse to drink water in crowded places, as if trying to show everyone he could afford and maintain a horse. That guy was so stubborn about appearances.
That was also the martial world.
There were two martial worlds, and Xu Fengnian preferred the one where people like Wen Hua were alive and lively.
So Xu Fengnian turned to Xuanyuan Qingfeng with a smile and said, “Please find this man and tell him that this young prince has decided to make him a guest at the Beiliang Prince’s Mansion.”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng frowned and asked, “Truly?”
Xu Fengnian nodded and said, “This young prince speaks from under his bed—each word is a pit dug by spittle.”
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