The three men from the Yulong Gang were utterly perplexed. Why did all the good fortune go to this fellow surnamed Xu? Back at Daomaguan, a voluptuous beauty wearing a sable headdress nearly snatched this fair-faced young man for herself. Before entering the city, he had obtained a mysterious Snake-Swimming-against-the-Wall token without effort. And now, barely having entered the city, he was already being teased by a woman whose ample bosom could smother any man. Comparing themselves to him was infuriating. The three men rolled their eyes furiously, shooting daggers at the man surnamed Xu. Fortunately, their anger distracted them from the dreadfulness of Yanhuiguan’s fearsome reputation, much to Liu Niran’s relief. Following Gongsun Yang’s instructions, she selected several bustling shops to stock up on rations and water.
Here, well water was more precious than oil; one ounce of water cost one ounce of silver. Had Gongsun Yang not warned them beforehand, Liu Niran would have turned back in frustration when confronted by a merchant squatting beside the well, holding a ladle with an indifferent “take it or leave it” attitude. When the man crudely offered her a ladle of water in exchange for touching his hand, she nearly drew her sword to stab him. Instead, she stepped back and left the dealings to the man surnamed Xu.
Liu Niran smoothed her chest, which heaved with irritation. Instinctively, she glanced downward. She had never thought much of her figure before, but compared to that shameless woman, she now felt her own bosom was indeed rather modest.
Lost in thought, she suddenly felt a hand pat her shoulder. Assuming her secret shame had been discovered, Liu Niran’s face flushed crimson, though she forced a fierce expression that looked quite awkward. She saw Xu Fengnian standing before her, holding a ladle filled with a small amount of well water.
Liu Niran frowned slightly. Xu Fengnian grinned, “Don’t worry, this is for you. I told that well-water seller you’re my sister. I promised to introduce him to you later. Originally, a ladle of water cost three taels of silver to strangers, but now it’s only half a string of coins. I’m borrowing your name to save money, so don’t feel burdened. Just drink it without hesitation.”
Liu Niran hesitated for a moment, then forced a smile. “Forget it. Just pour it into the water skin.”
Xu Fengnian looked at this young woman whose lips were so dry they had cracked and bled. He sighed in exasperation and amusement, “I said it’s a gift. If I’m taking advantage of you, it’s because I’m shameless. But why are you copying me? Drink or not? If not, I’ll drink it myself!”
Liu Niran took the ladle. Holding it up, she didn’t touch it with her lips. A cool stream of well water slowly poured into her mouth, sending a refreshing chill from head to toe. After a few sips, half remained. Seeing her hesitate, Xu Fengnian wordlessly took the ladle, tilted his head back, and poured the rest down his throat. He patted his belly contentedly, returned the ladle, and whispered something to the well-water seller with a sly grin. Liu Niran knew whatever they were saying couldn’t be good, yet she found herself unable to get angry. She silently scolded herself, *Where’s your pride, Liu Niran? Is it really worth just half a ladle of water?!*
The three young men from Yulong Gang carried twenty water skins, a large bag of rations, and salted beef. Xu Fengnian, with only the Chuntian sword at his waist and nothing else in his hands, inevitably drew more resentful glares. Walking beside Liu Niran, he chuckled, “You don’t know the cost of daily life until you’re the one footing the bill. Just buying water cost over eighty taels of silver. What do you think of that?”
Liu Niran moistened her dry lips with her finger but remained silent.
Approaching the city gate, with a little time left before the agreed hour with Gongsun Yang, Xu Fengnian suddenly stopped. “I might need to stay in Yanhuiguan for a day or two, but I won’t miss the business in Liuxia City. I won’t be seeing you out of the city.”
Liu Niran turned sideways to face him, asking calmly, “If anything happens, who will I turn to for justice? How will I face my grandfather? What about the four coffins still on their way to Lizhou? Will I even be allowed to burn incense at the memorial altar then?”
Xu Fengnian slightly furrowed his brow, about to respond, when Liu Niran took a deep breath and softly said, “I vented. Young Master Xu, please don’t hold a grudge against a small-minded girl like me. Just take care of yourself.”
Xu Fengnian hesitated, then finally waved and turned back into the city. He sat at a tea stall near a wengcheng (ancient defensive structure). The tea was nothing special—just well water and cheap tea dregs. In Yanhuiguan, familiar faces could buy water without exaggeration, especially the locals who had settled here and could draw well water for free. But even a bowl of tea cost half a string of coins. After all, whether good or bad, tea brought from Jiangnan or Xishu via the ancient tea-horse trade route was never cheap. Xu Fengnian originally had about 300 taels of silver, and later looted another 200 taels in banknotes. He could still afford a few bowls of tea. As he waited for the hot tea to cool, he gazed at the wengcheng, which didn’t conform to either kingdom’s military regulations. His expression darkened. All along the way, he had even squatted by a wall for a while and noticed that the drainage grooves in the inner wall were built with meticulous precision. Whoever had built it originally had been thorough, and whoever maintained it now was just as diligent.
Slowly returning his gaze, Xu Fengnian planned to walk around the city later. Besides, once he left this frost-laden Yanhuiguan with its muffled drums, heading north would truly mean entering Beiman territory. The tavern owner was a middle-aged man. Seeing Xu Fengnian’s appearance, he didn’t seem short of money, so he boldly claimed his red-braised beef was authentic. Xu Fengnian smiled and agreed.
As the sun set, geese flew overhead from south to north. A steaming plate of braised meat was placed on the table. Xu Fengnian took a bite with his chopsticks. As expected, it was wild beef, naturally not as tender and flavorful as yellow cattle. But the owner, who brewed tea and cooked, was clever. He used a vegetable called *Chunbulaowei*, known for its winter vitality, to marinate the beef. It was far more harmonious than any spices. This large plate of beef looked appetizing and tasted mouth-watering. Xu Fengnian decided to switch his tea for wine and asked the owner to buy two large flatbreads from the neighboring stall. He enjoyed the meal immensely.
Lifting his head, Xu Fengnian saw an old Confucian scholar, small in stature, arriving with a heavy bamboo trunk strapped to his back. The trunk was disproportionately large compared to his frame, yet he moved briskly. Smelling the wine, flatbread, and beef, he eagerly sat down, placing the trunk at his feet, rubbing his shoulders, and waving at the owner, “Please bring me the same meal as this young gentleman.”
The tavern owner had long mastered the art of judging people by appearance. He looked reluctant but didn’t move immediately, at least giving the old scholar some face without directly asking if he had enough silver. The elderly scholar didn’t mind. He took out a cloth pouch, moistened his fingers with saliva, and counted out silver and copper coins, dividing them into two piles. He pushed one pile toward the owner. Though he occasionally misjudged people, the owner never miscalculated money. He swiftly swept the coins into his sleeve, beaming with delight. He hurriedly fetched the wine, shouted to the neighboring stall to prepare two flatbreads on credit, and then busied himself with the braised beef. Soon, the old scholar received a plate of *Chunbulaowei* beef identical to Xu Fengnian’s.
The white-haired scholar patted dust from his sleeve, sending up a cloud of dust. He held a flatbread in one hand, chopsticks in the other, and a bowl of wine in front of him, easily accessible. Eating flatbread with wine and meat already kept him quite busy, yet he still wouldn’t stop talking. He rambled about how the beef replenished blood and qi, benefiting the vital energy, and how *Chunbulaowei* cleared the eyes, relieved irritability, and detoxified heat. His chatter never ceased. Despite his slow eating pace, nearby tea drinkers, already envious of the old man’s hearty meal, couldn’t stand the noise and left one by one, much to the owner’s delight, who secretly wished for more customers to leave quickly.
No matter how slowly Xu Fengnian ate, he eventually finished and put down his chopsticks. He asked the tavern owner, “Is there a bow-making shop in the city? Preferably an old-established one.”
Yanhuiguan wasn’t that big. The tea seller had lived there for five or six years and could walk its streets blindfolded. He was sipping half a bowl of wine and cheerfully replied, “Of course there is! Just two streets away. Old man Zhang, with the surname Zhang ( Zhang Gong, meaning ‘Zhang of the bow’). He can pull out a bow blank that makes people’s eyes turn red. His family has passed down the craft for generations, over ten at least. They say he used to be a royal craftsman from Dongyue or Xishu. Old Zhang came to Yanhuiguan early. His daughter-in-law is local, and his grandson was born right here. My wife even helped deliver the baby. Can you draw a bow? But let me warn you, Old Zhang has a strange temper. There’s a two-stone bow hanging at the entrance of his shop. If you can’t draw it fully, he won’t let you in. If your strength isn’t up to par, better not go and embarrass yourself.”
Xu Fengnian responded with a simple, “Oh,” and said, “A two-stone bow—I can’t pull that.”
He asked regretfully, “Is there any shop where I can buy a bow blank without having to draw a bow? I can’t afford a really good one.”
Seeing the old scholar still rambling, Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but smile and said, “Old sir, why don’t you check if your book bag has fallen?”
The old scholar ignored the teasing and remained immersed in his own world. Xu Fengnian paid the exact same amount and stood up to leave. Earlier, he had seen the old man divide a bag of silver into two parts. While eating, he had been calculating what the owner would charge. After careful calculation, including the price of a coarse and strong Yanwei wine, a plate of *Chunbulaowei* braised beef, the overpriced tea dregs that had traveled the tea-horse trade route, and Yanhuiguan’s usual gouging of strangers, he realized the old man wasn’t just a talkative bookworm—he was also quite skilled with numbers.
The tavern owner bit a piece of silver, smiling broadly at the tooth marks left on it. Usually, selling tea yielded slim profits, mostly to familiar neighbors, so he couldn’t gouge them too much. But today, with two plates of beef and two jugs of wine, he had made a good profit. Tonight, he could boast to his homely wife, perhaps coaxing her into some effort—making her sit obediently on top while he ground her two fat thighs together. Usually, during their intimate moments, she just lay there like a plank, arms and legs spread wide, and as he was finally starting to enjoy himself, her thunderous snoring would spoil the mood. They say good fortune rarely comes twice, but today, the heavens had smiled. Just as the knife-wielding young man with a mixed accent had left, and before the old scholar had gone, a group of noble-looking men and women, seven or eight in total, arrived. Among them was a swordswoman whose beauty nearly made the tavern owner pop his eyes out. The tavern owner was a remnant of the Southern Tang dynasty, having fled with his family to this unforgiving Yanhuiguan. His ancestors had died in bitterness, and he had long forgotten the phrase “When the family sacrifices are made, do not forget to tell your father.” He usually offered only perfunctory prayers for business prosperity, too lazy to mention the Spring and Autumn Period or Southern Tang. He had not thought of the lotus ponds in the humid southern climate, the rain-washed sky, and the solitary green lotus standing tall. The sight of this woman made him feel unworthy, even suppressing any ill intentions. In a place like Yanhuiguan, where all sorts, good and bad, came and went, such beauty was truly a first.
In a cheerful mood, the tavern owner eagerly called out. Hearing that a refined, middle-aged, yellow-robed swordsman only ordered eight bowls of tea, he didn’t mind. “Beauty is a feast for the eyes,” and it was worth seeing the young woman, about twenty-four or twenty-five, up close. Even the most beautiful women in the borderlands would lose half their charm to the desert winds and sun. Who could match this woman’s fresh, cooling presence?
Among the group was Wang Weixue, the only son of the Baoping Prefecture Jieyuan Commissioner. The other seven were senior figures from the Chess, Sword, and Music Pavilions, all of the same generation as his master. His master, Wu Miaozai, was the yellow-robed swordsman who had asked for tea. Wang Weixue had made many friends within the sect and was already familiar with everyone present, especially the one known as the “Green Lotus,” the young woman from the Sword Pavilion. She had once been so annoyed by his persistent advances that she wounded him with three sword strikes, keeping him bedridden for half a year. The incident caused a major stir. As the Commissioner’s son and a direct disciple of the Chess Pavilion, and with the young woman from a humble background being a top candidate for the next Sword Pavilion leader, the Sword Pavilion had originally planned to symbolically confine her for six months to save face for both sides. However, Commissioner Wang Yong personally wrote an apology letter to the young woman, and after Wang Weixue recovered and got out of bed, he surprisingly held no grudge. His relationship with the Sword Pavilion’s “Green Lotus” Senior Aunt even improved slightly.
Known for his generosity, Wang Weixue did not speak to his master but instead turned to a strong, dark-skinned woman with a smile. “Senior Aunt Yihuzhu, my master is stingy. Why don’t we order a separate plate of red-braised beef and make them envious?”
The woman’s plain appearance was even more pronounced beside the elegant, green-robed woman who wore her hair in a bun secured with a sandalwood pin. The name “Yihuzhu” (a poetic term for a pearl) sounded almost ironic in this context. Fortunately, the dark-skinned woman had a broad heart, typical of a manly woman. She waved her big hand and said, “As long as you’re paying, Senior Aunt has no complaints.”
Wu Miaozai laughed heartily, “It’s not the scarcity that matters, but the inequality. You, my disciple who favors outsiders, won’t starve! Except for your Senior Aunt Huang, serve each of us a plate of red-braised beef. Boss, do you have enough beef?”
The tea shop owner seized the opportunity before the group could change their minds. He dashed to the back to chop the beef, shouting as he ran, “Plenty!”
Wang Weixue glanced at the old scholar sitting in the corner, then turned his gaze away and spoke softly, “I paid for information at Yanmenguan. Those people from Beiliang who came via Daomaguan are from the Yulong Gang in Lizhou. It’s a small gang, with no more than two or three hundred members. The leader is surnamed Liu, and Liu Niran, who is leading this trip, is the leader’s granddaughter. There’s nothing particularly suspicious about them; they definitely don’t know Old Master Yugu. However, there’s a young man with a knife in the Yulong Gang who seems a bit strange. According to my senior brothers, they found an authentic copy of the *Gongyang Commentary* on the ground after returning. At the time, I saw Old Master Song escaping with the *Qingfu Sword Manual*, which had the cover of the *Gongyang Commentary*. The young man with the knife chased after him, claiming he wanted to find a master. What happened afterward is unknown. I deliberately dropped a Snake-Swimming-against-the-Wall token for this fellow, hoping that with so many people around, the situation might become complicated and this young man might reveal himself.”
The man in yellow robes, Wu Miaozai, was a man of refined and elegant appearance, a man with a magnificent beard. A man at forty, as long as he possesses charisma, can truly blossom into a flower in full bloom. Mature women, with their sharper and more discerning eyes than young girls, particularly appreciate this kind of charm. He gently stroked his beard with two fingers, squinting with a smile: “Just some shrimp crossing the river, barely able to take care of themselves. We need not pay them any mind. This ‘Qingfu Sword Canon’ from the Wu Clan’s Sword Tombs is extraordinarily precious. But what has truly piqued the curiosity of our Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau is that besides this superior sword manual, three or four other secret martial arts treatises have simultaneously surfaced near the border. If this is the work of a deliberate mastermind behind the scenes, then it becomes quite intriguing. What do you think, Junior Brother West Lake?”
The man addressed was as thin as a monkey, yet dressed in luxurious brocade. His appearance was a world apart from Wu Miaozai’s. He held an iron scepter in hand, his eyes clear and cold, exuding a quiet majesty that needed no words to convey authority. He smiled slowly: “Senior Brother East Immortal, you’re asking the wrong person. With my simple mind, all I can think of is finding that man surnamed Song and beating him to death with this iron scepter.”
The other senior and junior brothers all shared a knowing smile. It was true that Junior Brother West Lake was straightforward, but when it came to playing chess, every move he made struck at the heart of the matter. He was not to be underestimated. It was precisely because the Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau had members like West Lake and Yihuzhu, who combined boldness with subtlety, that the three halls of the bureau could maintain harmony inside and out. Moreover, what made the Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau most enviable to the world were the no fewer than twenty pairs of immortal martial couples within its ranks. Some lived in seclusion within the bureau, spending their days playing chess and practicing swordplay together, while others traveled the martial world hand in hand, sharing their lives without forgetting each other amidst the chaos. To envy mandarin ducks rather than immortals was exactly thus.
To the Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau, the appearance of the ‘Qingfu Sword Canon’ was not a matter of urgent concern, nor was it something they would grieve over if they could not obtain it. Hence, they had only dispatched a group of elite disciples from Wu Miaozai’s generation to leave the bureau. More importantly, it was to give younger disciples like Wang Weixue the opportunity for training at the border. To read ten thousand scrolls and travel ten thousand miles, combined with the bureau’s unique philosophy of making countless strategic moves, was their guiding principle. Alone, Wu Miaozai might not be able to subdue a senior cultivator from the demonic path like Yu Laogu, but with the aid of two fellow disciples, they could certainly trap and defeat him. Therefore, if a senior figure from a higher generation were to intervene—for example, Wu Miaozai’s master, Ye Shanlu, whose poetic name was Fisherman, and whose sword techniques were as decisive and ruthless as his chess strategies—the mastermind behind the scenes, that man surnamed Song who had managed to seize the ‘Qingfu Sword Canon,’ would have no chance of escaping once Ye Shanlu laid eyes on him.
Wang Weixue had been secretly observing Huang Shishu, the sword master from the Sword Bureau, sipping tea. Coming from the most prestigious aristocratic family in the empire, Wang Weixue had seen countless beauties. This nominal senior female relative was undeniably beautiful, but what truly moved and stirred his heart was her tragic past. Born into a minor impoverished family in the Longyao Prefecture, she had been noticed for her innate talent by a wandering master in her childhood. When she was brought back to the Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau, it caused a sensation across the three halls, all praising her extraordinary talent, which rivaled that of the greatest past masters of the bureau. The second-tier poetic name “Banished Immortal,” which had remained vacant for a hundred years, had originally been intended by the Sword Bureau’s master as a gift for this delicate little girl. However, fearing that bestowing it too early would hinder her growth, he had decided to wait until she matured before letting her earn the title herself. The girl lived up to expectations, attuning herself to the sword in just three years of training. But at the age of ten, she fell gravely ill, nearly dying. After that, her meridians withered, and her acupoints sealed shut. For the next five years, she remained silent, mute as a clam, continuing to practice swordplay without any progress, evoking pity in those who watched her. At sixteen, when she was evaluated for a poetic name, she received only the sixth-tier “Mountain Gradually Green,” and to add insult to injury, her master passed away soon after.
If that had been all, the girl Huang Baozhuang would have faded into obscurity after a brief moment of brilliance. But at eighteen, she ventured alone into the mountains behind the sect, and when she emerged from the mountains, she had opened two hundred and twelve acupoints. Her sword cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds, shaking the three halls and earning her recognition as a prodigy with the potential to vie for the title of the next Sword Qi Approaching.
Even Hong Jingyan, the most accomplished member of the Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau and known as Geng Louzi, often played chess with her.
Wang Weixue murmured in admiration: “What a Mountain Gradually Green indeed.”
Wu Miaozai kicked his disciple, who was entranced by the beauty, under the table. The latter immediately regained his composure, wearing a sly grin.
Huang Baozhuang, whose name had once again drawn the full attention and cultivation efforts of the Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau since Hong Jingyan, finished her tea and rose to bow lightly to the senior brothers and sisters present before silently departing. The others, accustomed to her quiet ways, returned her bow before continuing their idle chatter. Only Wang Weixue wished to follow her, but his master Wu Miaozai held him back with a firm grip on his seat.
The prince stood atop the city wall, gazing down at the entire city. At this moment, Yanhui Pass was tranquil and serene, like an elderly woman dozing off. Yet the prince was certain that this old woman had nothing to do with kindness. Once she began her death throes, she would reveal an exceptionally hideous visage. Alone on the city wall, Xu Fengnian slowly walked to the eastern wall’s command platform and found a stone tablet beneath it. Crouching down and examining it carefully, he realized it was “The Record of the Buddha Niche,” a masterpiece by Yu Liang, a renowned calligrapher of the Northern Wei. The text was obscure, filled with Buddhist terminology that most people could not fully recognize. However, Yu Liang’s writing, though overly elaborate and meticulously crafted, was of the highest quality. Among the four greatest calligraphers in the world today, Yu Liang of the Northern Wei, who also served as a military advisor, was listed even by the literary circles of the Liyang Dynasty, who sincerely praised his work, saying, “Yu Liang’s writing exudes the strength of bones and the resonance of metal and stone.” The Empress of the Northern Wei held great favor for this “calligraphy minister,” once humorously remarking to a close aide, “Yu Liang studies diligently and seeks favor through his writing, expressing gratitude through literature, like a little bird clinging affectionately, sincerely devoted to me. I, as the sovereign, naturally cherish Yu Liang.”
Xu Fengnian sat cross-legged, reading every word of “The Record of the Buddha Niche.” After finishing, he chuckled in disbelief: “Master Yu, Master Yu, how unpleasant it must be to be likened to a little bird clinging affectionately by a fifty-year-old old woman.”
Then Xu Fengnian turned his head with a smile and asked, “Young lady, do you enjoy listening to me read ‘The Record of the Buddha Niche’?”
Standing right behind the prince was the unintentional visitor to the city wall, Shan Jianqing, Huang Baizhuang.
She wore a scabbard at her waist, an ancient sword named Lü Yao, one of the three most famous swords treasured by the Sword Bureau for four hundred years. Legend had it that its blade bore patterns resembling nine green snakes, moving like living creatures in water.
The usually stern-faced Shan Huang Baozhuang showed a hint of shyness.
Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but feel surprised. Finding a girl with a gentle demeanor in Yanhui Pass was harder than climbing to the heavens, especially considering her beauty, which rated ninety out of a hundred. Glancing at the sword scabbard wrapped in green silk threads, he asked, “Are you from the Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau?”
She hesitated for a moment and then nodded.
Xu Fengnian stood up and bowed: “I am Xu Dianxia, with ‘dian’ as in palace and ‘xia’ as in sword case.”
Huang Baizhuang returned the bow with the unique sword salute of the Chess and Sword Joyful Bureau.
In the blink of an eye, Xu Fengnian’s figure burst forth, leaping to the side of this woman. One hand pressed against her heart, sealing her energy flow, while the other grasped her chin, forcing her mouth open. He squinted and looked into her mouth, saying, “As I suspected. My master once taught me some lost physiognomy techniques, and I only remember the six most extraordinary ones, including the Heavenly and Dragon Concubineforms. This young lady actually possesses two of them. She should have died long ago from the strain, but there must be the only Luminous Pearl ever recorded in the vast history of cultivation hidden within her body, growing and thriving on her life force. What a sight! A Lidragon holding a pearl in its jaws!”
A red pearl floated in Huang Baizhuang’s mouth. Once she opened her mouth, the radiant glow of this millennium-old Luminous Pearlcould no longer be concealed.
Tears like pearls slid down Huang Baizhuang’s cheeks, her eyes gradually losing focus, yet she still struggled to rasp out, “Run!”
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