Climbing the stone steps amidst a path flanked by lush green bamboos, a cool breeze gently blowing, Qingniao draped an out-of-season fox fur cloak over the crown prince, Xu Fengnian. Already tall and handsome, Xu exuded an otherworldly elegance, like a wandering immortal fox recluse.
Following closely behind were Princess Jing’an, Pei Nanwei, and the Murong siblings. The old sword saint, Li Chungan, remained at the foot of the mountain to watch the carriage, thus not accompanying them. This allowed Shu Xiu the rare opportunity to abandon her duties. As she admired the undulating sea of bamboo, she also stole glances at the young master’s distant back.
When Pei Nanwei caught sight of a clear, mirror-like lake halfway up the mountain, she was quite astonished. Especially striking was a small bamboo house built upon the lake’s center. A delicate raft made of nanmu bamboo floated by the lakeside, where the green bamboos cast their reflections into the water, their rustling creating a symphony of nature, like a scene from paradise.
Xu Fengnian had no intention of disturbing the inhabitant of the bamboo house on the lake. Instead, he walked directly toward a graceful, slender green bamboo tree by the lakeshore. Gently tapping his foot, the bamboo bent under his weight. Though bamboo was often praised by scholars for its unyielding nature, it now bent obediently under Xu Fengnian’s step, curving gracefully toward the mirror-like lake. Xu stopped when the bamboo was still over two zhang above the water’s surface.
Suddenly, Xu Fengnian recalled Wang Chuxue’s poetic line: *“Last night’s sudden rain beat upon the lonely bamboo—could it be the cries of the suffering people?”* He wondered how that young girl, just beginning to fall in love, was faring lately.
Standing atop the bamboo, gazing out, he saw smoke rising gently from the bamboo house at the lake’s center. After waking from his escape from Wudi City, Xu received a secret letter from Chu Lushan, informing him that the Taoist “cowboy” had finally descended the mountain. He had already made a name for himself, riding a bamboo crane to Jiangnan, rescuing the eldest sister from Yuan Tingshan’s clutches, and flying to Dragon-Tiger Mountain with Lü Zu’s sword. From afar, he exchanged words with Zhao Huangchao, causing nine lotus flowers in the Longchi Pool to wither, shaking the entire world. He was as close to a celestial being as one could be. Xu Fengnian still didn’t fully understand the connection between this Taoist and Lü Zu Qixuanzhen, but for the Crown Prince, as long as this timid Taoist remained devoted to his eldest sister and was loved by her, what did it matter if Hong Xiang remained a nameless lane-sweeping novice at Wudang? The Xu family, ruling Beiliang with an iron grip, commanding thirty thousand cavalry against the vast Northern Man kingdom, had always possessed a grandeur befitting their noble status.
Upon hearing this shocking news, which even stirred whispers within the imperial palace, Xu Fengnian finally found some clarity regarding the mystery of Zhao Xuansu’s ruthless attack. The events—Zhao Huangchao’s soul projection at Kulu Mountain, the assassination attempt on the eldest sister in Jiangnan, the young Taoist Hong Xiang leaving Wudang, the upheaval at the Dragon Pool in Celestial Master’s Mansion, Zhao Xuansu’s emergence from Dragon-Tiger Mountain, and the chaos in Wudi City—were all now connected. Though many hidden intrigues and schemes remained unknown, the main thread was now clear.
Returning to the present, Xu Fengnian caught sight of Murong Wuzhu, her cheeks flushed pink, standing by the lake and secretly watching him. He found it amusing and asked, “I’ve heard that Wang Xianzhi of Wudi City is a towering figure, with large ears, round eyes, whiskers like a spear, and snow-white hair. His presence is fierce. In any season, he wears only coarse hemp, and in rain or snow, a straw raincoat. He enjoys battling sea dragons and whales in the East Sea. Those with weaker hearts can’t even bear to look at him.”
This question flustered Murong Wuzhu, who blushed and replied softly, “At that time, I had just left the city with Your Highness, and I was in a hurry. I didn’t see him clearly. Please forgive me.”
Xu Fengnian comforted her gently, “I was just making conversation. Don’t be nervous.”
Among the three others, Pei Nanwei was sharp-tongued and showed no sign of being a caged bird, often clashing with others. She seemed even more imperious than the Princess Jing’an of Xiangfan. However, with Shu Xiu keeping her in check, she had finally learned to serve others, though her expression remained sour. Murong Tonghuang was sullen and seemed to have a twisted obsession with power. Xu Fengnian suspected that his status as the heir to Beiliang’s throne was more intimidating than his actual words or actions. He disliked Murong Tonghuang’s scheming nature.
As for Shu Xiu, she was a woman who had mastered the ways of the world. Having survived both the martial world and the Prince’s Mansion, she had long discarded any innocence or kindness. This seductive woman, whose life was worth less than the weight of her ample bosom, could be summoned to Xu Fengnian’s bed with a mere finger. However, it was unclear who would truly gain the upper hand in such an encounter. Xu Fengnian had not yet reached a point of desperation.
Murong Wuzhu gazed at the young master standing atop the green bamboo, her eyes filled with open admiration and reverence. Her emotions and thoughts were far simpler and purer than her younger brother’s. Xu Fengnian had once saved her and her brother from dire straits. Whether it was an act of chivalry or a convenient gesture, she had never forgotten that great kindness. From their journey through Jiuzhou’s Niuniu Ridge, her every joy and sorrow had been tied to the young master. Especially in Wudi City, when he carried a bowl to the city wall and sat cross-legged, exuding an indescribable charm, Murong Wuzhu felt as if she had drunk a strong wine, still intoxicated to this day. Outside Wudi City, when Xu Fengnian drew his saber and split the immortal’s physical body, she was terrified. At that moment, she had only one thought—if he died, she would not wish to live. Murong Tonghuang glanced sideways at his sister, watching her infatuation with cold indifference.
Xu Fengnian pulled his cloak tighter, preparing to return down the mountain, when suddenly the bamboo door at the lake’s center slowly opened. A woman stepped out, her silhouette barely visible from the lakeshore, yet her presence was enough to stir hearts. Even Murong Tonghuang, who was already surrounded by beauties, and Pei Nanwei, who ranked among the beauties of the “Jianzhi List,” paled in comparison. The woman from the bamboo house, wearing simple clothes and a wooden hairpin, walked to the mossy stone steps by the lake, cupped some clear water in her hands, gently splashed her face, and finally turned to gaze at Xu Fengnian.
She did not speak, only watching the unexpected visitors in silence, as serene and aloof as an orchid in a secluded valley. Xu Fengnian, clad in fine fur, was momentarily stunned, a rare flicker of hesitation in his eyes. Pei Nanwei frowned slightly, a hint of displeasure in her heart—not out of jealousy toward this unknown woman, but because she had always prided herself on her beauty, rarely meeting her match. The sudden appearance of this woman from the bamboo house stirred an instinctive sense of competition. Indeed, wherever there are people, there is always a Rivers and Lakes.
Xu Fengnian exhaled slowly, signaling Shu Xiu and the others not to move. He leapt from the bamboo branch onto the raft, which drifted effortlessly across the water toward the lake’s center. The raft stopped three zhang away from the bamboo house. The woman stood up and faced Xu Fengnian. Her hair was dampened by the lake breeze, clinging to her cheeks. Water droplets slid down her flawless, snow-white skin. She reached up to wipe a few drops from her chin, still silent.
Xu Fengnian broke the silence with a smile, “I saw you three years ago by the Luo River. Back then, I was squeezed among a crowd of young knights trying to impress you. I fought my way through the crowd, only to trip and fall flat on my face. I doubt you even noticed me.”
She thought for a moment and replied calmly, “I remember you were dressed rather… lightly.”
A surprising answer. Xu Fengnian chuckled self-deprecatingly, “Lightly? I was practically a beggar in rags. I’m honored you even noticed me. What a blessing.”
Seeing his hesitation, she smiled slightly, “My name is Chen Yu.”
As expected!
She was the woman on the “Jianzhi List” said to rival even Nan Gong. A beauty whose equal was only the “White Fox-Faced” girl.
Xu Fengnian, feigning modesty and shyness, asked gently, “Do you live here alone, Miss Chen?”
She smiled innocently and nodded.
Xu Fengnian said “Oh,” softly, then lightly jumped ashore. The next moment shocked everyone on the lakeshore—Xu Fengnian bent down and scooped the woman from the bamboo house into his arms, leaping onto the raft and leaving the lake’s center.
She bent her slender waist, her head resting against the prince’s chest. Xu Fengnian looked down, and their eyes met. Her gaze was undeniably full of spirit. Xu Fengnian, who claimed to have wandered through flower-filled gardens for over twenty years without a single defeat, had seen countless beauties. Yet her eyes were the only ones that could rival his second sister, Xu Weixiong. The “White Fox-Faced” girl’s gaze was too cold, like his former swords, Xiudong and Chunlei—sharp and heroic, lacking in gentleness. Now, she looked up at the audacious prince, showing no fear or shyness, only a trace of quiet anger in her eyes—enough to make any ordinary lecher feel ashamed enough to hang himself. Unfortunately, she had met Xu Fengnian, a man long accustomed to defying all rules.
Xu Fengnian lowered his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he smiled brightly, boldly declaring, “I promised my younger brother I’d find him the most beautiful woman in the world to be his wife. Sister-in-law, from now on, we’re family!”
The usually composed woman finally showed surprise.
There were arrogant nobles who abducted women in broad daylight, and bandits who kidnapped beauties to be their wives, but who had ever heard of a man kidnapping a beauty to be his brother’s wife?
Shu Xiu, a woman well-versed in the ways of the world, blinked and smirked. To snatch a woman with such audacity—only the Beiliang Crown Prince could pull that off.
※※※
An unassuming carriage entered the capital. The driver was a young Taoist priest in simple robes, unremarkable in appearance, carrying a sword on his back. His expression was gentle, the kind of person who seemed easy to talk to. The capital’s city gates, adorned with nine ridges and ten dragons, were majestic and grand. The carriage carried only one passenger, wrapped in a fur cloak, leaning against the young Taoist’s back. She listened as he spoke of the wonders of the capital, how it was connected to Kunlun, how the Emperor, seated in the Taihe Hall, ruled the world from the south, and how the six eastern and western palaces of the inner court were arranged according to the trigrams. Though young, the Taoist spoke with great insight, explaining to the beautiful woman how cities were ultimately built to harmonize with heaven and earth.
The woman, slender and pale, wore a modest marten fur, like a delicate maiden from a modest household. The fur was coarse, not as fine as fox fur. In the capital, only the furs of Manchurian sables were considered worthy by the wealthy. She listened to the young Taoist’s gentle chatter, eyes closed, a satisfied smile on her lips.
Upon entering the city, she sniffed the air and softly said, “It smells so good.”
The Taoist turned and saw a tavern. Knowing she was hungry, he immediately stopped the carriage, jumped down, and helped her inside. They chose a window seat on the third floor with a wide view. She ordered only a simple vegetarian dish for herself and a pot of wine for her companion, much to the disappointment of the waiter, who rolled his eyes, muttering about how stingy these out-of-towners were. He regretted giving them such a good seat. The wine arrived first, and the Taoist poured two cups. The vegetarian dish—stir-fried eggplant—was the tavern’s specialty, and she had been drawn in by its unique aroma.
She took a bite, smiled, and helped the Taoist serve a piece, saying, “It’s delicious. The eggplant is peeled and cut into four pieces, the knife work is fine. Half a clove of garlic is crushed, not chopped, and slowly stir-fried. Three eggplants are used, and by the time they’re served, there’s just enough for this small six-inch plate. The key is to balance the soy sauce, garlic, and eggplant flavors without overpowering each other. This dish costs more than meat, but we didn’t waste our money.”
The waiter, initially annoyed, felt slightly better after hearing her explanation. He thought, *This beautiful but frail woman must be a connoisseur.*
The young Taoist took a bite but said nothing, only smiling in a slightly foolish way.
She put down her chopsticks after one bite, gazing out the window at the bustling streets, resting her chin in her hand, sighing, “According to Taoist principles of diet, humans are born from the energy of heaven and earth, so the timing of food is important. All dishes must follow the seasons. I used to be a food lover, Fearless of gaining weight, and in this season, it’s the perfect time to indulge. Once winter comes, no matter how cold it gets, I won’t be afraid. Unfortunately, I’ve lost my appetite now. Sigh.”
The young Taoist remained silent, his eyes lowered. On their journey, wherever she wanted to go, he would take her—whether it was thousands of miles away or across towering mountains. He would show her all the sights, just to see her smile.
In the old kingdom of Xishu, he took her to see the most magnificent bamboo sea.
In the old kingdom of Xichu, they visited the ruins of Xilei Wall.
Further south, he brought her to a nunnery, where she drew a divination stick—it was a bad omen.
Going westward, they climbed a mountain so high it seemed to touch the sky.
Then, she said she wanted to see the capital.
Inside the tavern, most of the diners were locals, adept at gossip. As residents of the imperial city, they carried an air of superiority, as if there was nothing they didn’t know. The most exciting topic at the moment was the legendary duel between Wang Xianzhi of Wudi City and the one-armed Li Chungan—a battle that had shaken the martial world in the past fifty years.
Then there was the young Taoist from Wudang, Hong Xiang, who supposedly possessed the supernatural ability to summon flying swords from a thousand miles away. Rumors even claimed he was a reincarnation of Lü Zu, outshining even the sacred Dragon-Tiger Mountain.
The most shocking news was that this “land-bound immortal” had descended the mountain only a short time ago, bringing a woman with him. He traveled to the former kingdoms of Xishu and Dongyue, and with a single sword, he shattered the last remnants of their national fortune. Later, he headed west to Kunlun, where hundreds of top alchemists gathered, hoping to witness the immortal’s sword sever the pillars of national fortune. Secret messages quickly reached the capital: when the Taoist swung his sword, a mountain-sized pillar of fortune crumbled, leaving countless listeners in awe. Was it possible that such a being truly existed—one who, without ascending to heaven, was already like a celestial being?
Inside the tavern, someone spat while speaking, “That Wudang sect leader may appear young on the surface, but in truth, he has lived for several hundred years—no less than three hundred, exactly five cycles of the Chinese sexagenary calendar!”
Immediately, someone else asked in doubt, “Then he would be far older than the former sect leader, Wang Chonglou! If he is so ancient, why has he only recently descended the mountain? If he truly possesses such supernatural abilities, how could the Dragon and Tiger Mountain become the ‘Feathered Robe Chancellor’ instead?”
The first person slammed the table in anger, “This immortal is truly a land-bound deity, beyond compare! How could we mortals ever understand his thoughts?”
Countless others nodded in agreement: “Indeed!” “That must be it!” “I’ve heard that the great immortals of the Daoist sects value the body over material things, seeking simplicity and disregarding worldly fame.”
Listening to all the murmurs and discussions, a woman seated near the window, resting her chin on her hand, turned her head to glance at the young Daoist priest sitting across the table. Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
The young Daoist blushed slightly.
Outside, thunderous hoofbeats echoed, shaking the ground like an earthquake.
Several diners by the window leaned out to look, startled to see the rare sight of the imperial city’s elite, the Yulin Guards, mobilizing. Moreover, judging by appearances, it wasn’t just a few dozen cavalry. The Yulin Guards had always been the elite defenders of the imperial capital, boasting a combat strength considered unrivaled in the world. In an instant, the street was filled with armored riders, seemingly endless, quickly taking over the entire main road of the capital. Each Yulin Guard was fully armed and ready for battle. Leading them were several generals with immense power and prestige in the capital. Besides the soldiers, countless imperial guards and martial experts accompanied them, as if preparing for an imminent threat. The scale of today’s display was grand and terrifying; even an imperial procession might not be this grand. Those with insight could sense a deep and heavy wariness, which sent chills down their spines. Could there really be someone daring enough to cause trouble in the capital? It would take the courage of a tiger or leopard and many lives to risk such a move.
Outsiders saw only the spectacle, while only true insiders could discern the deeper meaning. Besides nearly a thousand Yulin Guards and almost all the imperial martial experts, there were also dozens of the kingdom’s top cultivators of Qi, all holding their breath in anticipation.
The woman sighed, “Let’s go back.”
The young Daoist nodded and gently asked, “Where would you like to go?”
The woman smiled, “To Wudang Mountain, the place where we first met. If we don’t go soon, I’m afraid my body won’t hold out any longer.”
The young Daoist asked, “Shall we ride a crane out of the city, or take a carriage?”
The woman, in a playful mood, winked and said, “If we take a carriage, won’t that cause you trouble?”
The Daoist shook his head softly, “No.”
She hesitated for a moment, then slowly stood up.
The young Daoist, blushing, reached out his hand.
She took it.
Together, they walked out of the tavern. When the sword-bearing Daoist appeared on the street, the most elite cultivators of Qi in the city instinctively took a step back, and even the fearless Yulin Guards dared not breathe loudly.
The young Daoist gently lifted the woman into the carriage, turned the horse’s head toward the city gate, and, ignoring the heavily armored soldiers lining the street, took the reins in one hand and gently held her cool hand with the other. Calmly, he said, “Make way.”
A general restrained his restless horse and shouted angrily, “How dare you, Hong Xixiang of Wudang, break the rules within the capital city!”
The entire city erupted in shock.
The young Daoist said calmly, “I do not know your rules. As for your laws, no matter how great, they cannot surpass the sword behind me.”
Beside the middle-aged general was a young armored warrior holding a silver spear. Upon hearing this, he was about to charge forward on horseback but was stopped by the general’s hand.
The woman softly said, “Let’s go.”
The Daoist’s expression softened instantly. He nodded and held her hand tightly.
In an instant, nearly all the horses on the street knelt down, causing chaos and uproar, with no order at all.
On that day, Hong Xixiang of Wudang and Xu Zhihu left the city, and no one dared to stop them.
On that day, the entire world came to know of the woman in red, named Xu Zhihu.
On the Xiao Lianhua Peak of Wudang Mountain.
Clouds and mist swirled around.
Three of Wudang’s eldest Daoists—Chen Yao, Song Zhiming, and Yu Xingrui—stood side by side at a distance, leaving the mountaintop for the pair. The three elders exchanged glances, filled with pride, regret, and sorrow.
Besides the three senior apprentices of the young sect leader, only Li Yufu, a newly arrived “outsider” on Wudang, was present.
The day before, the sect leader had ascended the mountain and told them something that could be considered the most incredible feat in the martial world in the past five hundred years.
Despite their deep reluctance, Chen Yao and the other seniors did not wish to interfere.
The young Daoist and the woman in red sat side by side on the base of the tortoise-carved stele. She dangled her feet, unaware of what he was about to do. Gazing at the sea of clouds and the seventy-two peaks, she sadly said, “Cowboy, I might not be able to grow old with you this time.”
When he was fourteen, they met for the first time.
After reuniting in Jiangnan, she knew she didn’t have long to live. But when she rode the yellow crane, she felt no more regrets in her life.
He had taken her to travel across the north and south of the world.
Seeing that he showed no reaction, she wrinkled her nose, turned her head, and tapped his head, asking, “What’s wrong? Are you still foolishly waiting for me in the next life? You’re so silly, isn’t that tiring?”
The young Daoist thought for a moment and simply shook his head.
Her eyes suddenly welled up with tears, and biting her lip, she asked, “You’re planning to wait for me again, aren’t you?”
The young sect leader, known as the “cowboy,” reached out and gently stroked her cheek, wiping away her tears. His eyes were warm as he said, “If I ask you to wait for me three hundred years, would you be willing?”
Without hesitation, she replied, “You waited seven hundred years for me. If I wait three hundred for you, of course I can.”
After their reunion, the young Daoist, who had only dared to hold her hand, summoned his courage and gently embraced her, smiling, “Alright.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “You’re such a coward.”
He asked, “Are you really not going to see the general and the prince?”
She shook her head with a smile, “No. I’m afraid they’ll be heartbroken. I’m afraid they’ll cry.”
The young Daoist took a deep breath. As the woman nestled in his arms, the sword resting beside the tortoise-carved stele—said to be the sword of Master Lü—leapt from its sheath, soaring into the sky as if it would reach the heavens themselves.
Clouds rolled down from the nine heavens.
The entire Wudang Mountain was filled with purple energy.
He declared in a loud voice, “Five hundred years ago, I was the wandering immortal Lü Dongxuan. Fifty years ago, I was Qi Xuanzhen of Dragon and Tiger Mountain. Now, I am Hong Xixiang of Wudang, having cultivated seven hundred years of merit.”
“I vow to cultivate three hundred more years for the righteous path of heaven and earth!”
“I only ask that heaven open a single path, allowing Xu Zhihu to ascend!”
His voice, like a great bell, echoed through heaven and earth.
“I beg that Xu Zhihu ride the yellow crane to ascend!”
The yellow cranes cried in unison.
A woman in red rode a crane into the heavenly gate.
The young Daoist, the reincarnation of Master Lü, sat cross-legged, gazing at the descending sword destined to sever his mortal body. He smiled and gently closed his eyes.
Chen Yao and the others could not bear to watch, tears streaming down their aged faces.
When the sword struck, a rainbow arose above the young Daoist, spanning across the major and minor Lianhua Peaks, dazzling beyond compare.
A thousand years of cultivation, just for another meeting.
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