In the borderlands of Beiman, customs closely mirrored those of the Han-clad Yan Yang Dynasty, especially after the influx of refugees from the Eight Kingdoms. In fact, the two cultures had become nearly indistinguishable. On the Double Ninth Festival, people climbed high and wore cornel; during Mid-Autumn, they admired osmanthus and ate mooncakes; on New Year’s Eve, they stayed up all night and set off firecrackers. And today, on Qingming, families honored their ancestors by bringing wine, fruit, and paper money to the graves. Men of all ages visited ancestral tombs, burned paper money, and added fresh earth to old graves. Young children, too, were tasked with breaking off tender yellow branches to place on the graves. After burning yellow paper, they bowed and paid respects to their ancestors, seeking blessings from the spirits before returning home.
There was no fixed time for visiting graves on Qingming—morning or evening were both acceptable. However, today’s heavy rain pouring down from the skies above Liuxia City made the journey difficult. Most graves were located in the suburbs, quite a distance from the city, and many commoners were reluctant to get their clothes soaked. They hoped the rain would ease before they ventured out.
Thus, the departure of thirty-one riders under the command of Chengmu Tao Chengmu made a striking scene. The streets of Liuxia, paved with bluish stone slabs, sloped gently from the center outward—only noticeable during heavy rain when water flowed into the gutters. Thirty armored riders thundered down the streets, their hooves striking fear into the hearts of the townsfolk. With tales of the general’s battlefield exploits—slaying a hundred enemies in border skirmishes, and daily drinking and killing within the Chengmu mansion—commoners felt a sense of security in this hardened soldier turned city governor.
Wei Feng was a merchant. No matter how wealthy he became, his status could never rival that of the aristocracy. Though he was among the wealthiest in Liuxia City, his mansion was still two streets removed from the Chengmu’s residence. Fortunately, the Wei estate stood on a main road, quiet despite the bustle, offering a clear view of the thirty-one riders galloping out of the city. At their head rode Tao Qianzhi, clad in armor contrary to official protocol, atop a rare golden-brown blood-sweating steed. Such horses were already highly prized, but this one had been personally gifted by the Jie Du Shi of Gu Sai Province, making it a true marvel. The horse’s powerful build left the city’s wealthy drooling with envy, while commoners gazed in awe.
Tao Qianzhi rode ahead, eyes forward, unaware of a young swordsman crouching beneath the eaves of the Wei estate’s grand entrance. A delicate maid held an umbrella over him. The young nobleman knelt by the wall, facing southward, burning a few handfuls of yellow paper. Once he felt his duty was done, he placed the remaining stack of yellow paper back into his robe. The pretty maid whispered, “Master Xu, it’s not proper to carry ancestral money on a living person. Let me hold it for you.”
Xu Fengnian stood up, noticing the maid’s shoulder was soaked. He nudged the redwood umbrella frame toward her, then folded his hands over his abdomen, watching the armored riders vanish into the rain. He smiled silently, shaking his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the small umbrella tilt slightly toward him again. With a mix of amusement and exasperation, he took the umbrella, holding it evenly over both of them. The maid, Chun Nong, tilted her head up, blinking her naturally alluring eyes.
Xu Fengnian patted her head gently, smiling, “Let me walk you inside first. I have to go out for a bit. Don’t follow me. I don’t know when I’ll return to Liuxia this time. If I pass by the City God Temple and the rain isn’t this bad, I’ll bring you and Qiu Shui a basket of Zhou Ji’s dumplings.”
The young maid, already showing signs of blossoming beauty, said thoughtfully, “It’s not far. I can run a few steps. Master, you go ahead and shop.”
Xu Fengnian narrowed his beautiful phoenix eyes, feigning hurt, teasing, “I wanted to chat a little longer with a certain young lady, but she doesn’t understand my charm.”
At that moment, the girl felt as though struck by lightning, her heart trembling. She gazed at the young master with his intoxicating smile, her small chin—soon to sharpen with age—lifted slightly. Some first stirrings of affection are strange and fleeting, often washed away by wind and rain. But in this moment, the girl was utterly unprepared.
Xu Fengnian smiled and escorted her into the Wei estate. Once inside, the girl didn’t immediately retreat into the inner courtyard. Instead, she stood watching his tall, slender back as he walked away. She watched closely and saw him pause slightly as he stepped into the rain beneath the eaves, as if glancing up at the sky through the umbrella’s edge—a sky that resembled a vast ink-stained inkstone.
Xu Fengnian walked slowly along the street, his shoes and robe already soaked from the paper-burning. The heir of Beiliang treaded upon the stone slabs of this Beiman city, heading to kill thirty-one armored riders, including the Chengmu himself. The truth of it was cold, much like this miserable weather that made one curse and shiver.
The Yulong Gang had paid a heavy price to deliver their goods into the city, and once handed over to Wei Feng, their business was done. Yet they still stayed until today, planning to leave in the afternoon. Over these days, Wei Feng had shown them hospitality, treating the gang’s rustic members—unused to the big city—to the pleasures of a soft life. The expenses alone had reached over three thousand taels of silver, a sum that left the Yulong members feeling almost embarrassed, even as they indulged in food, drink, and vice. Only Liu Niran, who had swallowed bitter grief over the death of the guest martial artist Gongsun Yang, remained silent, keeping the news to herself.
Wang Dashi was the only one who stayed at the Wei estate the whole time, practicing his fists and memorizing techniques. Two days ago, Master Xu had taught him a sword move called “Three Jins,” but he couldn’t even mimic the form, let alone grasp its essence. Fortunately, Master Xu seemed to prefer slow students, not quick ones, so Wang Dashi had no pressure. He just practiced diligently, knowing that the name “Three Jins” felt warm and familiar, unlike the flashy techniques of the Yulong Gang like “Ten Thousand Swords Return to the Sect,” “Dragon-Slaying Tiger-Killing Invincible Whirlwind Kick,” and other empty boasts that even Wang Dashi didn’t believe in.
Xu Fengnian stopped walking, turning calmly to face an unexpected visitor, “Going to pay respects to Gongsun Yang?”
Liu Niran, her face pale with grief, nodded. Then she said firmly, “And to stop you from going.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head, “I’m just walking around the city. I don’t plan to go to Gongsun Yang’s grave or say anything. I have nothing to say. Miss Liu, you’re worrying unnecessarily.”
Liu Niran strode ahead, leaving Xu Fengnian behind. These two new enemies, shaped by fate, left the city one after the other. Liu Niran headed southwest, while Xu Fengnian went southeast. The rain poured heavily, the sky dark as night, and the official road was muddy and treacherous. Xu Fengnian’s boots were caked with mud. He walked slowly for the time it took to burn three incense sticks, not meeting a single grave visitor. He exhaled a puff of mist, snapped his umbrella shut, and let the rain—like soybeans—pelt his body. Then he sprinted, not along the road, but in a wide arc. Each time his foot touched the ground, it left a crater, splashing water everywhere. To any ordinary observer, he would appear as a fleeting shadow, leaving behind a trail of water craters spaced six zhang apart, blooming like lotus flowers—like skipping stones across a lake.
Chengmu Tao Qianzhi arrived at a solitary grave, the resting place of a fallen comrade from the Gu Sai border army. The man had held no rank, dying as a mere squad leader. At sixteen, Tao had joined the border infantry, spending two years killing a Beiliang rider to earn his promotion. Then, for over twenty years, he remained a squad leader, never rising higher. He had seen many battles but had never killed many men. Yet, strangely, he had survived countless arrows and blades, never dying. He had led only a dozen or so recruits, of whom only four remained alive: Tao Qianzhi among them. One became a cavalryman and rose to the rank of Chong She General. Another became a mid-level infantry commander. The last had surpassed even Tao, becoming a rising pillar of the Beiman imperial court.
This old squad leader had been a coward, teaching his recruits not how to fight bravely, but how to survive—how to feign death, how to loot the dead, how to steal kills for merit. Yet this old soldier, who had been about to retire with a pension, died unexpectedly in a skirmish, shielding Tao from a deadly Beiliang saber strike. His soft armor had been no match for the sharp blade. Back then, Tao and his comrades had been young, holding the dying man, not understanding why he said it was better to die on the battlefield, without a coffin. The old man had babbled on, tears and snot streaming, finally gasping, “Damn, it hurts.”
Thirty elite soldiers from Gu Sai dismounted in unison, standing at a distance. Two of them took out backpacks. One carried several bottles of expensive wine the general had bought, while the other brought a stack of yellow paper money and a fire starter. After handing them to the general, one opened an umbrella to shield him from the rain.
Tao Qianzhi squatted by the grave, smashing one bottle of wine. Six or seven bottles of expensive liquor, imported from the Jiangnan region of Yan Yang, spilled onto the muddy ground before the grave. Tao lit the yellow paper with his military fire starter and muttered, “Old man, you weren’t much of a fighter, but you taught us how to survive. If you hadn’t given those two kills to Dong Zhuo, saying they were useless to you, he wouldn’t be where he is today. And if you hadn’t taken that blade for me, I wouldn’t be able to bring you this good wine. That fat bastard Dong, like a stone in a latrine, is stubborn and smelly. He once let slip while drinking that he won’t come see you until he becomes Jie Du Shi, just like you, an old man who cared too much about face. I don’t think as much as he does. Now that I’m in Liuxia, not bringing you some of your favorite wine on Qingming would be unforgivable. You were always petty—back then, stealing a sip of your wine was like stealing your wife. Oh, right, you never married. If you were still alive today, old man, just say the word, and I’d help you snatch any woman you wanted, even if it meant defying heaven and earth.”
Tao held the burning yellow paper, ignoring the searing pain, and whispered, “Before coming here, I killed a Beiliang soldier. I personally cut off his limbs with a Beiliang saber. Knowing you were a coward, I didn’t bring him to your grave to disturb your rest. Old man, I’ll tell you—those Beiliang riders we thought were invincible when we were young? Mostly because of you. Every time before battle, just hearing the hooves made you tremble, and we followed suit, scared out of our minds. Now that I’ve killed enough Beiliang men, I realize they’re not so tough. On the way here, I brought four cages of captured Beiliang soldiers. Many begged for mercy like dogs, and some even turned on their comrades to save themselves—worse than dogs.”
As the last of the yellow paper burned, Tao Clapped hands., scattering the ashes, and slowly stood up. “Don’t want to keep you from your drink.”
The thirty-one riders silently mounted their horses. A trusted subordinate, a former scout, rode over and reported, “General, there’s no sign of anything unusual within a three-mile radius.”
Tao nodded, smiling, “I thought those worms from the imperial court, those glory-seekers from Gu Sai, might try to gang up on me now that I’ve been demoted. Seems I overestimated their courage.”
The officer sneered coldly, “A coward leads cowards. Those silver-armored, silver-sabered dandies can’t lead brave men. Even a hundred of them wouldn’t be more than toothpicks for us.”
Tao looked up at the gray sky. The rain showed no sign of easing. He turned his gaze back, calm, and said, “Return to the city.”
Thunder, rain, and hoofbeats.
One rider followed another, galloping out of the muddy path near the grave, about to merge onto the official road.
Tao Qianzhi’s pupils narrowed, a glint of cruelty flashing in his eyes. He raised his hand, and the thirty riders behind him halted instantly. The road, wide enough for four horses in normal times, was now potholed and treacherous after the rain. Three horses abreast was the limit. For maximum cavalry charge effect, with enough space to wield their standard Beiman cavalry sabers, two horses abreast was ideal.
On the rain-slicked road stood a young swordsman, holding an umbrella.
The scout-turned-officer, skilled in reconnaissance, couldn’t have detected every detail within a three-mile radius in such short time, especially with the rain washing away footprints. He had only confirmed there were no groups of around ten people nearby. Yet this lone figure had slipped through their net. Now a sixth-rank officer in Beiman, he barked, “Who goes there?!”
The swordsman said nothing. He simply slowly closed the umbrella and planted its tip into the mud beside him.
Tao Qianzhi, a general known for decisive action, saw the gesture and curled his lips slightly. Calmly, he ordered, “Two squads, charge. Kill without mercy.”
Two riders surged forward side by side. Their horses, strong and battle-hardened steeds from the border, moved with a dynamic grace. Rainwater streamed off their manes, which trembled rhythmically with each stride. For a moment, the sound of hooves drowned out the rain.
Two unsheathed Mang Dao gleamed like snow, their blades wider and thicker than Bei Liang Dao, similar in length but slightly less sharp, yet with a greater curvature.
Experienced warriors would always combine their sword strokes with the galloping speed of their mounts and the jolting movements caused by uneven terrain. The two cavalrymen, once brave spear-wielding riders from Gu Sai border army, had strong arms and delivered a slash each with overwhelming momentum. They must have been elite soldiers to be chosen by Tao Qian Zhi as his personal armored guards stationed in Liu Xia City.
The two tall warhorses charging forward with their Mang Dao, the young man caught between them did not move his feet. His body spun like a top, tracing an arc, leaning backward toward the horse whose slash had missed. His right foot pushed back, his back brushing against the side of the charging horse, then with a loud bang, he slammed sideways into the horse and rider, sending nearly two thousand pounds of weight flying. All four hooves left the ground, and they crashed heavily six or seven zhang away. The rider on the horse was instantly knocked unconscious. Leaning against the horse’s back, he used the rebound force, his body darting forward like lightning in a few quick steps, and struck his fists into the muscular rear end of the second warhorse. Blood splattered instantly; the horse cried out in pain, spinning half a circle in the air before landing in the muddy roadside ditch. The rider was indeed fierce and brave; he sprang from the horseback, sliding a long distance across the mud, wiping his face with a grim expression.
The remaining eight riders split into two columns charging forward. The two leading cavalrymen, undeterred by the cold-bloodedness of the swordsman, followed their battlefield instincts and experience, once again coordinating with their comrades to slash their blades.
The young swordsman did not retreat but advanced instead. His figure moved like a gliding fish, weaving through the rain. He ducked under a blade slash, ignored the rider charging past his right side, and grabbed another rider’s arm with his left hand. His feet were lifted off the ground by the momentum of the galloping horse, and with a quick twist, he flipped onto the horse, landing behind the rider. He placed both hands on the rider’s head, twisted sharply, and killed him instantly. With a snake-like motion, he leaned against the corpse’s chest, twisted his body backward, and launched the hundred-and-forty-pound body flying backward. It crashed precisely into the head of the pursuing rider’s horse. The steed’s skull shattered, its front legs buckled, and it plunged into the mud. The rider rolled several times. The fourth rider in this column, skilled in horsemanship, not only dodged the fallen horse but also reached down to pull up the previous rider, who leapt onto the horse without hesitation, and the two rode together, continuing their fearless pursuit.
This clearly showed the bravery and combat prowess of the Bei Mang soldiers.
The swordsman riding the horse had no intention of engaging in a mounted battle with the cavalry of Liu Xia City. His mount let out a painful shriek, its four legs seemingly crushed as if under an immense weight. The swordsman leapt into the air like a hawk, turning mid-air and diving toward another rider. The two riders only saw a shadow sweep over their heads.
Two heads were swept off with a kick, bodies falling lifelessly, rolling into the muddy ground far away.
The elegant swordsman, who had never drawn his blade, stood on the still-galloping horseback. With a slight push of his toes, his body flew like an arrow toward another rider. With several swift movements, he kicked each armored rider in the chest, sending them flying from their saddles, their internal organs shattered.
Out of the ten riders, only the second one survived.
The horrified officer whispered, “General, should we send someone to the city for help?”
Tao Qian Zhi nodded, patting the horse’s head calmly. “You twenty riders should scatter back to the city. No need to worry about me.”
The officer’s eyes reddened, his voice hoarse as he called out, “General!”
Tao Qian Zhi smiled, “Not so easy to die, and I’m not ready to die here either.”
After speaking, Tao Qian Zhi’s expression turned stern and cold. “Hear my command, return to the city!”
After a brief hesitation, the twenty riders obeyed the military order and rode away with heavy hearts.
The young swordsman did not try to stop them, jumping from the horseback onto the road, clearly indicating that today he had only one target—Tao Qian Zhi.
Sitting high on his golden-haired blood-sweating horse, Tao Qian Zhi held the reins in one hand and the Mang Dao in the other, calm and composed, shouting loudly, “Are you sent here by Murong Zhang Tai’s pup to assassinate me?”
The assassin on the road said nothing, only walking steadily toward Tao Qian Zhi.
Tao Qian Zhi mocked, “Could it be that you’re the new lover of the Hongyan Princess? How come her taste has improved so suddenly? Interesting.”
Tao Qian Zhi, clad in a fine black armor, dismounted, patted the horse’s neck, and the intelligent blood-sweating horse reluctantly trotted away a few zhang, neighing anxiously and impatiently stomping its hooves.
Knowing the assassin would not reveal anything, Tao Qian Zhi wasted no more words. As he drew the Mang Dao, killing intent spread around. They charged at each other, and the road was instantly filled with deadly intent, far more intense than when the young assassin faced the ten riders.
Tao Qian Zhi’s sword technique was simple and direct, honed through years of military experience. There was no hesitation, no unnecessary movements—only one of them would leave the battlefield alive. As they collided, the Mang Dao struck the short scabbard. Tao Qian Zhi clearly did not expect a one-strike kill, holding back most of his strength, releasing seventy to eighty percent. Thus, the blade slid downward swiftly, aiming for the young swordsman’s abdomen. The latter did not draw his blade but blocked with the scabbard, not even glancing at the blade approaching his stomach. With a twist of his wrist, the scabbard spun out of his hand, creating a seamless circle in front of him. Raindrops falling onto the circle were reflected back violently. Tao Qian Zhi narrowed his eyes, but his blade did not retreat. He suddenly increased his force, attempting to pierce through the circular defense, which was at most the thickness of the scabbard.
The tip of the Mang Dao scraped against the ancient scabbard, producing a grating metallic sound that pierced the ears.
Tao Qian Zhi layered his strength like a gushing spring, adding power to his arm several times in an instant, the blade tip emitting a brilliant white light.
The young swordsman stepped back, and without touching the scabbard, it followed his movement. With a subtle motion of his right hand, the scabbard, like a venomous snake, circled around the blade tip and climbed upward, aiming for Tao Qian Zhi’s wrist.
Tao Qian Zhi slightly retracted his hand, snarling, “What kind of unorthodox swordplay is this? Mere parlor tricks!”
The cavalry general, renowned for his horsemanship in Gu Sai, flared his sleeves, successfully deflecting the still-spinning scabbard with his Mang Dao. Seeing his opponent unarmed, Tao Qian Zhi’s blade flared again, aiming to pierce the silent assassin’s chest. However, as Tao Qian Zhi saw the assassin’s right arm make a pulling motion, he became alert, executed a thousand-pound drop, his feet sinking deep into the mud, barely ducking under the scabbard aimed at his head. Escaping death, Tao Qian Zhi kicked up a large clump of mud toward the young swordsman, who kept producing bizarre techniques. He gripped the hilt with both hands, leaning his muscular body forward, charging with fierce momentum, and crashing forward with both man and blade.
The scabbard did not sever Tao Qian Zhi’s neck but instead spun like a swallow in the air, returning to the assassin’s left hand. With a flick of his finger, it left his hand again in the blink of an eye, lunging toward Tao Qian Zhi.
Somewhat frustrated, Tao Qian Zhi swung his Mang Dao in a flurry, rolling with the force, and came to a stop on one side of the road. He glared at the assassin who controlled the scabbard with precise flicks of his fingers, snarling, “So you’re using that wandering swordsman’s trick—the flying scabbard! Let’s see how long you can keep it up!”
The scabbard danced like a swift swallow around beams, each flick of the swordsman’s finger sending it spinning again.
Neither gave the other a moment’s respite. The Mang Dao’s white glow flickered like fireflies as Tao Qian Zhi rolled and slashed.
The scabbard swirled like a swallow, constantly clashing with the Mang Dao. Compared to the furious Tao Qian Zhi, whose killing intent was terrifying, the assassin, who was none other than the Crown Prince of Bei Liang, Xu Feng Nian, remained much more composed. On the road, he had synthesized the flying sword techniques he had secretly learned from Xiao Qiang outside Da Ma Pass and the three-hand techniques from the Yu Long sect, creating a calm and measured style, displaying the poise and confidence of a master swordsman.
Once, an old man in a sheepskin cloak had struck with an umbrella, making an immortal kneel.
The spring thunder scabbard had already struck Tao Qian Zhi’s armor several times without effect. Suddenly, Xu Feng Nian’s eyes sharpened, and his sword intent surged like a reversed river. In a move that defied comprehension, he executed a nascent form of the Dragon-Wrapping Sword Surge using the scabbard.
The spring thunder scabbard finally returned to Xu Feng Nian’s right hand. Tao Qian Zhi knelt on one knee, his Bei Mang sword stuck into the ground, thick blood trickling down the blade from his wrist.
His black armor was shattered, his body bloodied and bruised, with wounds deep enough to expose bone in several places.
Tao Qian Zhi grinned through gritted teeth, “Kid, are you not going to draw your sword yet?”
Xu Feng Nian thought for a moment, a cruel smile spreading across his lips, and without tiring, he repeated the Dragon-Wrapping Sword Surge ten times.
By the third time, Tao Qian Zhi’s black armor was completely destroyed.
By the sixth, only his right arm holding the sword remained intact.
After the tenth surge, Tao Qian Zhi was torn apart, kneeling on both knees, his hands gripping the sword hilt, dead but not falling.
Xu Feng Nian slowly approached, mercilessly striking him with the spring thunder scabbard, sending him flying. The blood-sweating horse galloped toward him, but Xu Feng Nian grinned fiercely, sidestepped, lightly leapt, wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck, bent his knees, leaned back, and flipped the entire horse over. With a thunderous crash, the horse collapsed onto the road, its back shattered, instantly dead.
From beginning to end, Xu Feng Nian had not exchanged a single word with Tao Qian Zhi, the Bei Mang city governor who should have had a promising future.
Xu Feng Nian stood up, letting the rain wash the mud from his back. He reattached the spring thunder scabbard, drew out the umbrella, faced the Bei Liang direction, and from his bosom, took out a handful of yellow paper deliberately left behind at the Wei residence’s wall, gently scattering it into the air.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage