The moment Feihu City first heard that the man surnamed Dong intended to seal the gates, the locals were so enraged they wished to carve chunks of meat from the fat bastard’s body. Yet the thunderous threat soon fizzled—within no time, the city gates reopened. The people whispered that the young master of the Tan household must have bested the fat Dong in a secret struggle, gaining the upper hand. Thus, fewer still believed the tale that Tan Changping had been forced from his horse by a mere woman at the city gate.
Xu Fengnian did not rush to leave the city. Instead, he climbed atop the city wall and gazed toward the Pavilion of Hanging Swords, where soldiers with spears kept all at a distance. Because of Tao Manwu, his early entanglement with Dong Zhuo had already disrupted his plans. To flee hastily from the city now would be improper, yet to stubbornly remain—merely to save face—would offer his enemies the perfect opportunity. As for the mission his father Xu Xiao had entrusted him with, to seek out that former general of Beiliang’s army, it would have to be postponed. Forced to choose the lesser of two evils, Xu Fengnian could only bitterly console himself, though a tinge of regret still lingered.
As Xu Fengnian turned to leave the wall, a disheveled drunkard lying atop the battlements mumbled in his sleep. With a sudden roll, the man nearly tumbled from the wall, but fortunately landed safely within the city. Xu Fengnian made no move to help—the drunkard awoke from his fall, and his first concern was not his survival, but the careful inspection of the wine gourd at his waist. He then looked around in confusion, his gaze falling upon the stranger Xu Fengnian. Unmoved, the bearded drunk leaned against the wall, took a swig of strong liquor, and hummed a tune of Beiliang’s *The Overlord Removes His Armor*, his manner carefree and leisurely.
A tall, hunched servant in plain clothes hurried up the wall, carrying a fresh jug of wine. Upon seeing Xu Fengnian, he paused briefly before silently refilling his master’s nearly empty gourd. The servant had a pitiful face, cross-eyed, while the half-drunk man pulled out a dagger studded with pearls on its hilt and began shaving his thick beard. Without looking up, he muttered, “Boy, what are you staring at? You think I’m just some drunk? I once came to Feihu with two swords—one named Zhulong now hanging in that pavilion, the other sold to the city magistrate for a thousand ounces of gold. What right do you have to look at me like that?”
The servant, a mute, could tell from his master’s mouth movements that trouble was brewing again. He quickly turned to Xu Fengnian and bowed apologetically. Xu Fengnian merely smiled. As the drunk shaved his beard clean, his true features emerged—no wonder he had once been a famed painter and swordsman, sleeping atop Fengbolou for years. Had he been clean-shaven and well-dressed, he would surely have been a dashing figure in his youth.
Yet something unusual was afoot. Xu Fengnian’s expression remained calm as he studied this man—the very same “Champion of the Pleasure Houses” who had left such an impression on Xi Yi. The drunk sheathed his dagger and sighed, “I never betrayed painting, but painting betrayed me,” before taking another swig of wine.
Xu Fengnian, with no time for pleasantries, cut straight to the point. “Are you waiting for me?”
The drunk, as if hearing a joke, glanced at his servant and laughed heartily. “Boy, you’ve got some nerve. I was sleeping just fine here. If anyone’s been waiting, it’s you waiting for me.”
Xu Fengnian, treating a dead horse as if it might still live, spoke calmly. “Someone asked me to pass along a message. If you understand it, good. If not, just think it drunken rambling and let it pass. Since you were the one who trained the man, you should be the one to clean up his mess.”
The now-shaven, still-handsome man rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a screw loose, kid. When have I ever not wiped my own ass after a shit? Scram. You’re bad luck. Don’t make me draw Zhulong from the Pavilion and send you straight to King Yama.”
Xu Fengnian had already tested their auras—neither master nor servant were hidden masters of the martial world. The drunk was barely above average, while the cross-eyed servant was even worse, barely worth mentioning. Xu Fengnian smiled, descended the wall, mounted his shabby horse, and left Feihu City. As he looked back, there was no drunkard—only the mute, hunched servant standing silently in the distance.
The drunk, now clean-shaven, wiped his cheek and muttered to himself. Receiving no reply, he looked up to see the servant gazing silently into the distance. The drunk chuckled bitterly. “Right. I forgot—you’re both deaf and dumb. Back then, when I was fleeing north from my enemies, I only took you as my servant because you had some coin left. Otherwise, why would I bother?”
The drunk lazily asked, “Why did you make me sleep here today?”
A raspy voice replied, “Even a wretch like me can sense the approach of sword qi. In the Northern Liang, only someone at the level of the Chess and Sword Bureau’s master would possess such a presence.”
The drunk was so startled his limbs trembled. “You can *speak*?”
The hunched servant still faced the horizon, his hand stroking his face. “I sealed my own acupoints. It’s the pinnacle of the Wu family’s *Withered Sword* technique. I gained some insight after dueling Li Chungan back in the day. And when I grew bitter at the General’s refusal to become emperor, I gave up and devoted myself fully to the Withered Sword. Our ancestors once shattered ten thousand cavalry with nine swords, and four broken blades were left behind in the Northern Liang. I came here to see them. Otherwise, with your mediocre sword skills, how could you have ever found Fishfu and Zhulong? Did you think swords were coins, that you could just wander a market and pick up a few?”
The drunk’s voice trembled. “Who… who *are* you?”
The servant’s fingernails scraped across his face, drawing blood, as if loathing his own visage. Slowly, he said, “A withered sword has no feelings. But Wu Su was tainted by emotion. Even though she claimed to walk the worldly path, her sword intent was no longer pure. Her so-called realm of a land-bound immortal within the imperial palace was a false one, nothing more than an illusion. Otherwise, how could she have failed to cure her own fatal illness?”
“Beiliang’s Princess?!”
“My elder sister. My *real* sister. But we were never close. I was closer to Deng Ta’ao, the boy who survived on Sword Mountain back then, than I was to her. And compared to that nephew of hers, the young master, I was even closer to Chen Zhibao. But no matter how distant, blood cannot be denied. All these years, I’ve been waiting for the General. I never imagined it would be his nephew who came to Feihu. Oh, General, you always tried to move me with emotion and reason. But you never understood—Wu Qi has never cared for emotion or reason in all his life. And you never knew that Chen Zhibao had already sought me out? It’s too late.”
“Please… don’t kill me! I won’t say a word!”
“All who chase glory—die by glory.”
That day, the Champion of the Pleasure Houses died drunk in the Pavilion of Hanging Swords. The entire city mourned, and the courtesans pooled their wealth to give the legendary man a grand burial. The older women, whose children had grown and whose youth had faded, secretly wept for the man who had once stirred their hearts.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage