What does it mean to come from a grand and prosperous family? When the Murong siblings stepped into the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion, they finally understood the saying, “Once you enter the gates of a noble house, it’s like plunging into an ocean with no way out.” When they saw the Tide Listening Lake and the grand Pavilion of Martial Arts standing by its side, they gasped in awe. Fortunately, the banquet was modest in scale, not much different from the dinner hosted by a wealthy merchant family—no extravagant display of chime bells and tripod cauldrons. The Prince was sitting beside Xu Xiao, devouring his food heartily. Yuan Zuo Zong and Chu Lu Shan were also seated at the table; one slowly sipped wine, while the other carefully tore into tender duck meat with young ginger.
From the moment Murong Wu Zhu entered the mansion, she had seemed dazed and distracted, eating absentmindedly. She hadn’t even dared to settle her bottom fully onto the chair. Occasionally, Xu Xiao would reach over to serve Xu Feng Nian a few bites of food, murmuring softly at one point, “If Zhi Hu were here, you wouldn’t have needed your old man to serve you.” The Prince, who had kept his head lowered, merely paused briefly before continuing to eat with gusto. After the meal, the steward naturally led Lady Pei and the other guests to their accommodations.
After bathing and changing into fresh clothes at the Paulownia Courtyard, Xu Feng Nian stretched lazily with a refreshing sense of ease. The lively and radiant maidens, led by Hong Shu, noticed that the Prince carried the Xiu Dong blade in his hand. Unusually, they did not chatter noisily. Xu Feng Nian smiled warmly and gently touched each of their cheeks before stepping out of the courtyard. He arrived at the Pavilion of Listening to the Tide, pushed open the grand doors, ascended to the third floor, and found the White Fox faced youth searching for secret martial arts scrolls while standing on a tall ladder.
He called out, “Hey.”
The White Fox leapt down from the ladder. The two gazed at each other in silence. The scene was neither warm nor tender, but that was fine—otherwise, if the two grown men had gazed lovingly at each other, Xu Feng Nian reckoned he would have broken out in goosebumps. Ever since the incident with Murong Tong Huang, he had felt a strange unease around the White Fox. The latter simply turned away and resumed searching for the missing martial arts manual.
Seeing that the White Fox had no intention of exchanging pleasantries, Xu Feng Nian took the initiative to speak, “I saw Chen Yu. She’s absolutely stunning. Her parents must have been clairvoyant to name her so aptly—her beauty truly rivals that of fish sinking and geese falling from the sky.”
The White Fox asked indifferently, “Did you bring her back to the Northern Liang mansion?”
Xu Feng Nian replied with self-mockery, “Not yet. She was whisked away by an urgent imperial decree from the capital. Otherwise, I would have shown that woman what it means when the mountains have higher peaks and the sky has greater heights.”
The White Fox furrowed his brow, turned to fix the Prince with a sharp gaze, and smirked—not with flirtation, but with a chilling, murderous aura. “Oh? You think that having absorbed eight-tenths of the Great Huang Ting is enough to make you invincible? Coming all the way to the Pavilion of Martial Arts with Xiu Dong in hand—does that mean you’re asking me to take a swing at you? Go ahead, how many cuts would satisfy you?”
Xu Feng Nian slowly placed Xiu Dong behind his back, smiling awkwardly. “I just wanted to humble that arrogant woman a bit.”
The White Fox stared at the clearly guilty Prince and asked, “Are we really that close?”
Xu Feng Nian gave the question serious thought before answering with utmost sincerity, “Well, you and I aren’t close, but I’m close to you. Does that work?”
The White Fox turned away again, a faint curve appearing at the corner of his lips. “How noble of you. No wonder the entire Northern Liang is fawning over you these days.”
Xu Feng Nian, feeling smug, chuckled, “Flattery, flattery. But after holding back for so many years, I finally have the chance to provoke those scholars who built their reputations by badmouthing me.”
The White Fox shook his head helplessly.
Curious, Xu Feng Nian asked, “When will you ascend to the fourth floor?”
The White Fox glanced around the room before replying, “Probably within the next few days.”
Xu Feng Nian sighed, “I don’t think I’ll ever catch up to you in this lifetime.”
This time, the White Fox did not mock the Prince. He spoke calmly, “What does cultivation level really mean? Even if you exclude Wang Xian Zhi, who dares to claim victory over Li Dang Xin, who has remained in the Jin Gang state for so long? Han Diao Si of the Inner Court can slay Heaven’s Will practitioners with the Finger Prophecy, and that has already been accepted. Among the Confucians, Buddhists, and Taoists, many have inflated cultivation levels. When it comes to actual combat, their true strength is usually at least one level lower than their reputation. That’s why on Snowy Peak, even though Xuan Yuan Jing Cheng achieved the status of Confucian Saint, he could only perish together with Xuan Yuan Da Pan, who was at the Great Heaven’s Will level. Of course, scholars, monks, and priests are strongest in words—always claiming to act on Heaven’s behalf, turning prophecies into reality with a single sentence. Their lack of martial prowess is understandable.”
Xu Feng Nian smiled bitterly, “Thank goodness you’re not a woman, or with such a sharp tongue, who would dare marry you?”
The White Fox ignored Xu Feng Nian’s jest and simply held out his hand directly. Xu Feng Nian hesitated for a moment before shamelessly saying, “Me and Xiu Dong have been inseparable for nearly two years now. I even hold it while I sleep—we’ve developed a deep bond. And if you think Xiu Dong has picked up too much worldly taint…”
The White Fox did not withdraw his hand, but merely glared.
Killing intent, malevolence, and overbearing dominance!
This was the demeanor of a future martial arts champion. No wonder Lao Jian Shen Li regarded him as the one destined to occupy the highest pinnacle of martial cultivation. At such a young age, he could already view the Land Immortal realm as his own possession. Xu Feng Nian admitted to himself that he was leagues behind—countless streets, countless pawnshops, taverns, and brothels separated them. Comparing oneself to others only brings despair. The Prince, who had just been praised for his backbone, hurriedly tossed Xiu Dong over and quickly turned to ascend the stairs.
The White Fox caught the Xiu Dong blade, tilted his head slightly, and smiled without a word. Xu Feng Nian reached the top of the pavilion and sat upright. Li Yi Shan, who was gravely ill and growing increasingly emaciated, was writing with a firm brush. Half an hour later, he slowly raised his head and said, “All the secret manuals from the Xuan Yuan family have been sorted out. Nangong Puya downstairs contributed greatly…”
Before he could finish speaking, Xu Xiao arrived with two jugs of wine. He sat cross-legged, unfolding three green bowls that had been stacked together. The aroma of wine filled the air. As long as there was wine, Li Yi Shan would not speak further. After finishing one and a half jugs of the cheap green ant wine that commoners could afford, slightly tipsy, Li Yi Shan saw that only half a jug remained, so he waved his hand to dismiss the guests. Father and son exchanged a smile and rose to leave the pavilion. Li Yi Shan poured himself a small bowl of wine, murmured, “The Rivers and mountains,” and drank it in one go. Another small bowl followed with the word “ Beauty,” and then loyalty, ministers, the Spring and Autumn Annals, and the martial world—all were consumed together with the green ant wine. Finally, he collapsed drunk over the table.
Xu Feng Nian and Xu Xiao ascended to the peak of Qing Liang Mountain for a private conversation, the content of which remained unknown to outsiders.
The next morning, Xu Feng Nian visited the Wudang Mountains, sitting in a daze near the turtle-carved stele on Xiao Lian Hua Peak, gazing at the high sky and drifting clouds for a long time before finally covering his face with both hands.
A few riders quietly returned to the city. The Prince visited the sauce beef shop, only to find it closed for good, and the little girl who had always worn a stern face for every customer was nowhere to be seen.
On the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, Xu Feng Nian replaced Xu Xiao to personally ring the bell one hundred and eight times at the Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha’s sanctuary.
On the Lantern Festival evening, as red lanterns adorned every household, the Prince went out for a stroll with several women of vastly different statuses. To everyone’s surprise, the White Fox joined them. They avoided the bustling markets and chose a quiet teahouse instead, heading upstairs to order some delicate pastries and having the waiter warm a pot of yellow wine.
Downstairs, a blind old man and his granddaughter made a living by telling stories. The old man tapped bamboo clappers, narrating a tale while the pale, thin girl sat on a small stool, accompanying him with a lute. The lute was of poor quality, and her technique was clumsy—nowhere near heavenly. The blind performers had not been seated for long when the Prince began drinking. The old man had just finished a short opening piece, recounting how the Northern Liang Princess had beaten the drum in white robes. Since the teahouse was in a remote location, most of the townsfolk were preparing to visit the lantern festival, leaving the first floor nearly empty and the second floor even more desolate. Xu Feng Nian and the White Fox sat facing each other, sipping wine. After some thought, the Prince summoned the waiter to deliver a bowl of warm yellow wine to the old storyteller and his granddaughter downstairs.
The wine arrived downstairs. The blind old man said something to his granddaughter, and the girl, holding her lute, stood up and bowed toward the second floor.
The blind storyteller borrowed a chair from the teahouse, placing the wine bowl beside him. When the tale reached an exciting part, he raised his hand to take a sip.
He spoke of the thundering hooves of Northern Liang horses.
He spoke of the rising smoke of war during the Spring and Autumn period.
Unconsciously, he finally came to the words spoken by the Northern Liang Prince on the banks of the Guang Ling River.
The Prince listened quietly as the storyteller closed his eyes, sipping wine and speaking with no expression on his face.
Perhaps trying to match her grandfather’s dramatic emotions, the little girl played the lute with great effort, her face flushed with strain. The old man, regaining his senses, reached out with trembling hands to pat his granddaughter’s head. Then he reached for his wine, only to find the bowl empty upon shaking it. He placed the bowl back down, smacking his lips, seemingly not entirely satisfied but not regretful either. He murmured to himself, “Han Wen Hu, an old soldier of Northern Liang, today seems to have tasted the boldness of the great river flowing eastward. Truly fine wine.”
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