On the day of the palace upheaval, Dunhuang City was truly a place where some celebrated while others mourned. The Mao and Lu clans were obliterated in an instant. In the northeast of the city, where nobles and elites clustered, many powerful families who could shake the city with a single step lived as neighbors. Perhaps separated only by a wall, one could witness the scene of the next household being raided.
The Mao family mansion was wedged between the estates of the Yuwen and Duanmu clans. The younger generations of these two families watched the spectacle from the upper floors of their mansions, their faces betraying a hint of schadenfreude. Through the torrential rain, they could vaguely see several pale-faced, eunuchs without beards leading a horde of golden-armored guards storming into the Mao residence. All adult males, whether resisting or surrendering, were hacked to death. Some martial men skilled in combat tried to leap over the walls, only to be easily intercepted and killed by martial artists lying in wait at the base. A few who managed to escape over the walls, thanks to their formidable skills and tough bodies, were immediately impaled on spears and pinned to the ground or walls by the elite retainers of the Yuwen and Duanmu clans, or riddled with arrows from rows of crossbowmen. Several promising young men from the Mao family, regarded as thorns in the eyes of the rival clans, fought valiantly with loyal retainers. Even some young women, who had previously kept a low profile, drew their swords. But they could not withstand the overwhelming tide and were all slaughtered on the spot. The Mao family, once possessing five hundred iron cavalry and standing at the pinnacle of Dunhuang, had even their servants strutting with arrogance, heads held high, never glancing at the ground beneath their feet. Now, most of them lay dead in pitiful states, which only made the young men of the Yuwen and Duanmu clans watching from the sidelines feel a sense of vindication. Some men who had only dared to secretly lust after Mao women and drool over Mao daughters-in-law felt a pang of regret. What a delightful sight it would be to see these high-and-mighty beauties reduced to military camp prostitutes, and they wouldn’t mind spending dozens or even hundreds of taels of silver for a single night.
Influenced by the scholar-gentry of the Central Plains, the great families of Dunhuang often established private academies and libraries. The Yuwen clan, perhaps because of their affinity for the written word, placed particular emphasis on their family school. The old scholars and tutors were minor literary figures known within the regions of Ju and Xi prefectures. In the Northern Mang, finding martial artists was as easy as picking rotten cabbages, but finding true scholars was as difficult as seeking a three-legged toad. The Yuwen clan’s investment in this area far exceeded that of their peers, thanks to the clan head Yuwen Liang himself being a well-read scholar. Their private library, Wen Hui Lou, housed eighty thousand scrolls, most of which were acquired during the chaos following the northern migration of scholars. Yuwen Liang took great pride in this and even commissioned a renowned seal carver to create a Tianhuang stone seal, styling himself as the “Master of Eighty Thousand Scrolls.”
Today, Yuwen Liang personally led nearly a hundred elite warriors to the Giant Immortal Palace to “purge the king’s side.” Upon returning, he rewarded his men according to merit while sending his steward with a group of loyal assassins through a secret tunnel shared by the three families. Their mission was to rescue several women from the Mao family before sealing off the tunnel. The rescue was not an act of mercy but a calculated move—Yuwen Liang needed these shrewd women, who knew the Mao family intimately, to help him take over their vast assets. The original marriages had been arranged with ulterior motives, and the women from the Mao family who had “deigned” to marry into the Yuwen and Duanmu clans were no different. Yuwen Liang had always treated these strong-willed daughters-in-law, even granddaughters-in-law, with respect, often scolding his own descendants in front of them. But after today, who would dare to boss their husbands around or forbid them from taking concubines? By now, they were probably kneeling on the ground, sobbing and begging for mercy.
Seated in a small pavilion on the top floor of Wen Hui Lou, Yuwen Liang sipped tea leisurely, his eyes gleaming with delight as he watched the chaos unfold at the Mao estate. Unlike Mao Rou, who had a penchant for incense, Yuwen Liang was a tea connoisseur. Beside him was a large tea table, adorned with twelve tea utensils including a tea stove, tea roller, tea mill, and water kettle—collectively known as the “Twelve Gentlemen.” Yuwen Liang never allowed servants to prepare his tea; he brewed and drank it alone, or at most with one companion. Rarely did he share tea with more than one person. As he often said, “Tea is like a woman—true enjoyment comes only in solitude; communal drinking is indecent.” Today, his mood was particularly high, and for once, two guests joined him on the couch: the elderly Duanmu Qing Sheng, head of the Duanmu clan, and Yuwen Liang’s eldest son, Yuwen Tuan, a dashing and charismatic figure. A knock at the door announced the arrival of a middle-aged man bearing a striking resemblance to Duanmu Qing Sheng. He removed his heavy straw raincoat and casually hung it on a corner of the screen. Outside, the rain poured like hailstones, dripping steadily from his coat. Yuwen Tuan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he quickly masked it with a warm, inviting smile, rising to greet the newcomer with a respectful, “Brother Chongyang.” The man waved him off and plopped down on the couch, grabbing a tea towel to wipe his face. Yuwen Liang chuckled, “Duanmu Chongyang, you rascal, you’ve ruined the elegance of this room with your vulgar ways. What a shame!”
“Uncle Yuwen, if you keep teasing me like that, I might just go after your granddaughter. She’s quite the charming little thing,” the man joked, gulping down a cup of tea like a thirsty ox, confirming his crude reputation.
Duanmu Chongyang, the second son of the Duanmu clan, held a status equal to Yuwen Tuan, but their personalities were starkly different. At thirty, he had yet to settle down, causing his father Duanmu Qing Sheng no small amount of gray hair. A renowned swordsman along the border of the two prefectures, Duanmu Chongyang often hunted bandits, even forming a brotherhood with the leader of a notorious gang. Had it not been for family intervention, he might have even tricked his own sister into becoming a bandit’s wife. He was the only one bold enough to confront the Mao clan’s young men during their heyday. The three families, being neighbors, maintained a cordial relationship through marriage and proximity. Duanmu Chongyang, Yuwen Tuan, and the Mao siblings—Mao Chong and Mao Rou—had been childhood playmates. However, in recent years, Duanmu Chongyang had grown distant from Yuwen Tuan, whether intentionally or not. In their youth, these two unrivaled young lords of Dunhuang had followed Mao Chong like loyal henchmen, but Mao Chong had died young, before even reaching adulthood, his death in the Caiji Buddhist Caves still unsolved—whether by revenge or love, no one knew.
Duanmu Qing Sheng, who had long restrained his frustration, finally snapped, slamming the table in anger. “What were you doing at the Mao estate? Has that widow bewitched you? She’s nothing but a worn-out shoe. Are you not ashamed? If you ruin our plans, what will you offer in compensation?”
Yuwen Tuan narrowed his eyes again, silently sipping his tea. Yuwen Liang remained silent with a faint smile, while Duanmu Chongyang raised an eyebrow, defiantly retorting, “What plans? Is scheming behind our lord’s back the great plan? Don’t you fear the suspicions of that little girl Yan Zhi? I say, in dividing the territories of the Mao and Lu clans, we shouldn’t act so aggressively, boasting about our merits. Did you really think it was our protection that saved the day? No, it was our lord’s carefully laid trap, waiting for those old foxes to leap into the fire. Besides, if we truly consider merit, the young man who stood alone at the city gate deserves the most credit. Have you heard him clamoring for rewards? Could it be that he simply locked the door with Yan Zhi for a little fun? Why hasn’t he been made commander of the Golden Guards? Ha! This is all a show orchestrated for our benefit, a warning not to overreach. Father, if you don’t stir up some trouble at the Mao estate and leave some evidence for that woman to exaggerate, I’ll see whether the meat in your mouth will make you sick.”
Duanmu Qing Sheng raised a delicate celadon cup from Dongyue, ready to hurl it at his insolent son. Yuwen Liang quickly intervened, grabbing his friend’s arm and teasing, “Don’t throw it! The boy might not mind the pain, but I’d hate to lose the cup.”
Duanmu Qing Sheng fumed, “Brother Yuwen, did you hear that brat’s words? What do you mean ‘bite’? Am I a dog?”
Yuwen Tuan, holding an elegant tea broom, bent low, his lips curving into a faint, mocking smile.
After Duanmu Qing Sheng calmed down, Yuwen Liang gazed at the green tea in the celadon cup, stroking his beard with a calm smile. “Actually, Chongyang has a point. Our manners were indeed unseemly, bound to invite resentment. We two families are the hidden chess pieces of Beiliang, bound by shared fate. We needn’t fear that mysterious girl treating us poorly. We can appear to take less publicly while secretly securing more. This way, the Giant Immortal Palace can pacify the masses. To put it bluntly, don’t mind the word ‘dog’—we are indeed the hounds of our master. Before biting, we must keep our tails tucked and stay silent. When it’s time to bite, we must give it our all. When it’s time to eat, we must gauge our master’s mood and expression.”
Duanmu Qing Sheng’s face remained flushed with anger. A man of martial prowess, he lacked eloquence and could think of no rebuttal, so he simply stewed in silence. Duanmu Chongyang, however, burst into laughter. “Uncle’s words are indeed profound.”
Yuwen Liang chuckled. “Then let’s set the tone: eat little but often, take it slow. Dear In-laws, shall we each spit out a few bites first?”
Duanmu Qing Sheng hesitated, then caught sight of his troublemaking son casually slipping a teacup into his sleeve. Suppressing his anger, he grumbled, “As always, I’ll follow your lead in major matters.”
After a distracted tea session, Duanmu Qing Sheng practically dragged his son out of the tea room. Yuwen Tuan was about to speak when the irreverent Duanmu Chongyang jogged in, laughing as he grabbed his raincoat from the screen.
Only after their footsteps faded did Yuwen Liang notice the missing teacup among the “Twelve Gentlemen.” The set was now ruined. He sighed softly.
His mood for tea gone, Yuwen Liang gazed out at the rain-soaked scene and asked, “Do you know that wretch Xu Pu will soon become the new rising star of Dunhuang?”
Yuwen Tuan smiled without warmth. “I already know.”
Yuwen Liang asked, “Knowing his identity, do you know how to deal with him?”
Yuwen Tuan’s face darkened. “At worst, we can remarry that shameless woman back to him. Duanmu Zhongqiu is nothing but a bookish fool. A pair of despicable lovers—getting rid of them would solve everything. I heard Duanmu Zhongqiu has taken a fancy to a courtesan and wants to take her as a concubine. Let that woman feign jealousy and be labeled a shrew, then cast her out in disgrace. Xu Pu, that spineless wretch, won’t mind.”
Yuwen Liang, furious, hurled the teacup. Yuwen Tuan, blood trickling from his forehead, looked stunned. Yuwen Liang roared, “Fool! Do you really think Xu Pu is just a brute? Are any of Beiliang’s warriors ordinary men? Even if his intellect is lacking, there are masterminds behind him plotting. Can our Yuwen clan afford to provoke such a terrifying omen, this pestilence named Xu Pu?”
Yuwen Tuan, hand on his forehead, blood seeping through his fingers, stubbornly retorted, “I’m giving him back his woman. How is that a bad thing?”
Yuwen Liang’s anger flared. He grabbed another cup, ready to throw it, but seeing his eldest son’s determined gaze, he sighed in defeat. “You, you! Why are you so stubborn? A woman’s heart is hard to fathom. Your sister has always been strong-willed. Even if she is forced to remarry against her will, do you truly believe she won’t fly into a rage and run to Xu Pu to complain? Throughout history, how many great ministers and generals have died not on the battlefield, but from the whispers of a jealous woman’s pillow? Let this matter rest!”
Yuwen Tuan, habitually narrowing his eyes, slowly wiped his face with a tea towel after releasing his hand, smiling. “I have a plan to shift the blame to the Duanmu clan.”
Yuwen Liang’s eyes lit up, though he remained skeptical. “Oh?”
Yuwen Tuan stroked the smooth tea kettle with his finger, smiling. “I have a loyal man close to Duanmu Zhongqiu. I can incite him to take a concubine. Duanmu Zhongqiu is a hypocrite, timid and fickle, easily swayed and obsessed with appearances. My man can exploit his ignorance in business, returning a debt of six or seven hundred taels that rightfully belongs to him. With sudden wealth, a man’s thoughts naturally turn to mischief. I’ll have my man work on two fronts—first, subtly suggesting to a brothel to lower the price for a courtesan’s freedom from eight or nine hundred taels to six or seven hundred. Second, whispering into Duanmu Zhongqiu’s ear that Xu Pu bears a grudge and will target the entire Duanmu clan if he dares to keep that woman. The Mao family’s fate is a warning. Father, do you think this fool won’t hand over a divorce letter? Then we, the Yuwen clan, can comfort that shameless woman, turning her against the Duanmu clan, tearing their relationship apart. With their decline and our rise, who will be the dominant power in Dunhuang’s future?”
Yuwen Liang pondered, carefully weighing the pros and cons, his smile growing wider.
Outside the tower, the Duanmu father and son grew distant, heading toward the back garden and slipping into an unremarkable carriage. The sound of hooves was drowned out by the rain.
After closing his umbrella, Duanmu Qing Sheng closed his eyes to rest. Duanmu Chongyang, still clad in his raincoat, sat upright, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by solemnity.
Duanmu Chongyang drew back the curtain and glanced at the high walls with a smirk. “No surprises, but by now that pretentious and effeminate father and son must be scheming against our Duanmu family. They switch sides faster than turning pages in a book. That young fellow, Yuwenduan, has been scheming since childhood, always acting self-righteous while thinking no one sees through him. It’s quite amusing.”
Duanmu Qingsheng spoke softly, “Chongyang, how do you think they will scheme against us?”
Duanmu Chongyang sneered, “If I were them, I’d definitely target your elder brother and his wife first. It’s the quickest way to strike. That’s all the vision and ambition the Yuwen family has.”
Duanmu Qingsheng opened his eyes, fingers interlaced over his abdomen, and smiled faintly. “Your elder brother is timid and avoids conflict, not even daring to compete with you for the family leadership. I’ve given up on him. As for you, you dared to single-handedly eliminate Mao Chong back then, and you did it cleanly. It made me, as your father, very proud. This time, if Yuwen Liang and Yuwenduan try to harm your elder brother, just keep an eye on them and make sure nothing big happens. There’s no need to stoop to their level. If they see through our deliberate underplaying, it will be unfavorable. We are men of valor, not to be quarreling with those effeminate fellows. The Duanmu family has never considered Dunhuang as a place for great ambitions.”
Duanmu Chongyang laughed heartily and mockingly, “Drinking tea is all about the harmony in the word ‘he’ ( And). Looking back at Yuwen Liang’s underhanded schemes over the years, it’s like he’s wasted hundreds of pounds of tea.”
Duanmu Qingsheng did not respond to this topic but emphasized, “Earlier, when you went to save someone from the Mao family, you displayed both sentiment and righteousness. Very well done. Your actions over these years have always been for the benefit of the Prince of Beiliang to see. Now it’s time to reap the rewards. I don’t care about anything else, but I will make sure you become the Grand Commander of the Jinyu Guard. You should interact more with Xu Pu and that young man, perhaps enjoy some flower wine together. Don’t rush. As long as you proceed gradually, there will be opportunities for you to achieve great feats in Beiliang. Dunhuang is still too small a temple for you to display your talents. Joining the Beiliang army and striving to become a trusted aide to the heir of the Hereditary and Unalterable Prince of Beiliang would be ideal. If this young master is not worthy of your loyalty, you can always turn to Chen Zhibao. That would still be fine. But remember to stage a bitter scheme, otherwise you will be seen as a traitor in Beiliang and have no future there.”
Duanmu Chongyang leaned against the carriage wall, clicking his tongue, “Chen Zhibao, the White-robed Battle Immortal, the ruthless killer of the Gunslinger Immortal Wang Xiu. I’ve longed to meet him.”
Duanmu Qingsheng shook his head, “The struggle for military power between the heir of Beiliang and Chen Zhibao isn’t as one-sided as outsiders imagine. I think as long as Xu Xiao lives, Chen Zhibao won’t rebel. But if Chen Zhibao keeps delaying, the heir will have more room to maneuver.”
Duanmu Chongyang was puzzled, “Wouldn’t it be easier if Xu Xiao just killed Chen Zhibao? Although this would split the morale of the Beiliang army in half, it would be better to endure short-term pain than prolonged suffering.”
Duanmu Qingsheng’s face turned serious as he shook his head, “That’s where the Beiliang King’s skill in managing people comes in. He knows some people can’t be killed, and how to keep potential threats at bay. In my opinion, Chen Zhibao within the mighty Beiliang army is someone the heir can kill, but Xu Xiao cannot. Perhaps this King of a different surname is also reluctant to kill him.”
Duanmu Chongyang cherished the time alone with his father and even more so the opportunity to hear his father’s insights. He asked eagerly, “Then, Father, do you think Chen Zhibao will really rebel?”
Duanmu Qingsheng smiled, “Even if he initially pretends for the Emperor Zhao’s sake to reassure the Tai’an City, over time, Chen Zhibao will find himself in a situation similar to his adoptive father after the Xilei Wall battle, where he has no choice but to rebel. However, at that time, Xu Xiao had the composure to achieve today’s glory. If he had truly rebelled back then, he would have had only three or four years of brief prosperity ruling half the country alongside the Emperor Zhao, but eventually exhausting the people’s support and lacking the backing of scholars and commoners, it would have been a dead end. That’s the great wisdom of this warrior, Xu Xiao. When one reaches a high position, it’s extremely rare to maintain clarity. Chen Zhibao is different. If he rebels, not only will the entire Liyang Dynasty be delighted, but the Northern Yan will also applaud. Even within Beiliang itself, there might be more support than resistance.”
Duanmu Chongyang carefully added, “Provided Xu Xiao dies of old age.”
Duanmu Qingsheng nodded, “Exactly. So in fact, both Xu Xiao and Chen Zhibao are waiting. Once the time comes for the heir of Beiliang to don the Python Robe of the Prince of Beiliang and personally confront Chen Zhibao, it will be a truly ruthless fight to the death. Until then, it’s also a great opportunity for you to wait for the right price.”
Duanmu Chongyang was full of vigor and eagerness.
Duanmu Chongyang’s origins were modest, and aside from the awkward status of being a pawn in Beiliang, compared to those mighty powers, he was merely from a local small clan. In the Northern Yan, eight Jie Shi officials controlled the military and political affairs, and he had no relatives or friends there. Without major warfare, his climbing speed was destined to be average. Going to the Southern Court of scholars in the Northern Yan was even more of a joke, only inviting disdain. The Beiliang army was undoubtedly the first choice. If the confrontation between Liyang and Northern Yan could be likened to a jade disk split in half, then why not seize this opportunity to go to the Beiliang army in the gap? What a man should do is to carry a Wu Hook and reclaim fifty states of half the country!
Duanmu Chongyang suddenly frowned and said, “What if the demon lord Luoyang comes to Dunhuang one day?”
Duanmu Qingsheng loosened his fingers and waved his hand, saying, “No need to worry needlessly. At that time, the old city lord fought to the death despite being severely injured, which could be said to be trading his life for an oral alliance. This was all part of Beiliang’s planning, to gain a great protector for Dunhuang City.”
Duanmu Chongyang looked at him with admiration, “Chen Zhibao of Beiliang and the demon lord Luoyang both like to wear white robes. Hehe, it’s made me go out to kill horse bandits whenever I have Annoyance, and I like to wear white robes too.”
Duanmu Qingsheng, somewhat helplessly, relaxed a bit and teased, “White robes have Luoyang, green robes have Cao Changqing of Xichu. You, young man, should strive to be more accomplished, maybe get a bright red robe in the future.”
Duanmu Chongyang, knowing his own limits, shook his head, “I dare not even think about it.”
Although every era has its heroes and talents who shine for a hundred years, there are only so many colors, either white, green, red, or purple. Yet in history, there has never been such a white-robed figure who, wherever he goes, sees gods and kills gods, and sees Buddhas and kills Buddhas. The first time he entered the martial world, he killed no fewer than a thousand people. Among them were innocent civilians who just happened to look at him a little longer on the road, and there were also heroes and heroines who rushed to intercept him. But this white-robed demon lord never stopped, killing his way through eight provinces. Along the way, there were experts from the top ten sects. For example, a deputy mountain master from the Tibil Mountain, and even an old monk from the Caiji Buddha Cave who came out to sweep the cave, as well as a direct disciple from the Daoist sect. All of them ended up being killed without exception, and not a single one was left with a complete body.
Killing indiscriminately, without blinking an eye. These two phrases fit the demon lord Luoyang perfectly.
Duanmu Chongyang suddenly said, “That little girl with naturally red lips like cinnabar would actually be quite suitable for Luoyang. If she were to meet that young hero who once drove away five hundred cavalrymen all by himself, there would be quite a show.”
Duanmu Qingsheng frowned and said, “Why are you thinking about such nonsense?”
Duanmu Chongyang chuckled sheepishly.
Duanmu Qingsheng sighed, “Compared to Xuxiao, the great serpent that swallows the heavens, both I and Yuwen Liang are merely old foxes scheming for a city or a province. We are far behind.”
The old man continued, “This is not self-deprecation. Just saying the name Xuxiao makes me feel a bit nervous.”
The carriage slowly stopped, and the two Duanmu men, whose ambitions far surpassed those of the Yuwen father and son, got off together. Duanmu Chongyang, wearing a straw raincoat, looked like a lazy idler without any discipline, rushing ahead of his father and striding into the mansion.
Duanmu Qingsheng, holding an umbrella, muttered to himself, “When the night air is clear, reflecting on oneself reveals the weight of one’s conscience and the measure of one’s knowledge.”
As he crossed the threshold, he wore a self-mocking expression, “A pity, it’s daytime.”
※※※
On this day, the rain continued, and as soon as the white-robed figure entered the city gate, he encountered a group of three heading towards a wine shop.
Xu Pu, who had been hiding his identity in Dunhuang for many years, stood in front of the two people, his aura surging.
When two unfamiliar martial experts meet and show off their might, it is a great taboo in the martial world. However, Xu Pu could not afford to care. If it were said that he had developed a sense of loyalty to the younger generation, Xu Fengnian, it would be absurd. Xu Pu, once the Grand Commander of the Light Cavalry Twelve Camps, commanded over seventy or eighty thousand cavalry. He was on equal footing with Wu Qi, the Grand Commander of the Vanguard Army. Not to mention Li Yishan, his confidant, even Zhao Changlei, the chief strategist of Beiliang at that time, held great respect for Xu Pu, the Confucian general. What kind of people hadn’t Xu Pu seen? However, Xu Pu was meticulous in his actions and adhered to his duties. Since he had willingly become a dead pawn in Dunhuang City, and even the Prince himself dared to go to Northern Yan alone, Xu Pu had already resolved to die before Xu Fengnian in this city. There are countless elite troops in the world, but who can say they can fight to the bitter end without leaving a single soldier or horse? Only the Beiliang Army and Toba Busa’s personal guards. Xu Pu, proud of being an old soldier of Beiliang, how could he ever show cowardice!
So what if you are the number one in the demonic path? Can you make me, Xu Pu, die more than once?
Hongshu took a deep breath.
Just as she was about to take a step forward, she was held back by Xu Fengnian.
The white-robed Luoyang entered the city, his eyes ignoring Xu Pu and Hongshu, and only looked at Xu Fengnian with a changed face, his gaze intriguing.
Xu Fengnian stepped out from under the umbrella, walked to Xu Pu’s front with a bitter smile, “So it’s you. Actually, I should have thought of it earlier, but in my heart, I just couldn’t believe it.”
The arrogant demon lord of Northern Yan, Luoyang, stretched lazily and walked slowly, letting the raindrops hit his clothes, showing off his slender figure that was not very curvy, and said, “Huang Baozhuang is finally dead.”
Xu Fengnian stood still, pursed his lips without speaking. But in his heart, he felt like slapping himself, you jinx! And he regretted not bringing out the Spring and Autumn swords and the Spring Rain swords even more!
The two were less than twenty steps apart. Hongshu was seeing this great demon for the first time and had already resolved to die. Xu Pu was seeing him for the second time. Back then, when the Dunhuang City Lord “Two Kings,” Hongshu’s aunt, fought Luoyang, he had watched from the city wall but couldn’t see his face clearly. However, the momentum that Luoyang had, no one could imitate, not even Toba Busa. This white-robed demon lord’s killing aura was unique, unparalleled in the martial world for a hundred years!
Even when observing Luoyang up close, although his appearance was somewhat feminine, Xu Pu still refused to believe he was a woman.
Only Xu Fengnian, who had suffered at the hands of Luoyang in the Guajian Pavilion in Feihu City, knew the truth. She was indeed a woman, possessing both the appearance of a celestial being and a dragon princess, with a black pearl in her mouth, and was indeed very young. Unfortunately, her extraordinary talent was comparable to that of Li Chungan.
Xu Fengnian asked, “How did Huang Baozhuang die? What about your black pearl?”
The woman from the Chess and Sword Music Bureau, who was both Luoyang and Huang Baozhuang, did not answer. Instead, she touched her stomach, “I’m hungry again.”
Xu Fengnian knew that this madwoman would kill whenever she got hungry, which was completely different from the kind and innocent Huang Baozhuang.
This formidable demon lord suddenly smiled, and even Xu Pu was somewhat dazzled. She softly smiled, “Huang Baozhuang doesn’t know what I did, but I know what she did.”
Hongshu and Xu Pu didn’t need to get wet to be completely confused.
Just as Xu Fengnian was about to speak, the woman who should be called Luoyang finally deigned to look at Hongshu and Xu Pu, who were on high alert. She frowned, “Why do you look so much like that old woman? No wonder your aunt asked me to spare your life. I won’t kill you. Go back to the Zijin Palace and never set foot in the Yeting Palace again!”
Hongshu smiled charmingly and didn’t budge an inch.
Luoyang took a step and arrived behind Hongshu, gently patting her chest. Almost simultaneously, her right hand changed from a pat to a flick, deflecting Hongshu’s kick, while her left hand stuck to Xu Pu’s whip kick, spun him around, and threw him away. Although Xu Fengnian stood still, his two flying swords, Jinlou and Chaolu, which had the most embryos, had already left his sleeves. However, Jinlou stopped and trembled two inches from Luoyang’s forehead, unable to get any closer, while Chaolu halted three inches from her chest. Hongshu and Xu Pu were about to attack together, giving Xu Fengnian time to gather his sword energy. Suddenly, the sky and earth changed color, and the rain turned into thousands of flying swords. The two could barely defend against the sword pressure, struggling to advance a little despite being pierced by countless swords.
It is worth noting that Luoyang is the youngest person in the past hundred years to enter the Tianxiang realm. This is even more astonishing than the top three in the martial rankings: Wang Xianzhi, Toba Busa, and Deng Ta’ao.
Xu Fengnian completely let go of the two swords, his expression calm as he looked at the two people and then fixed his gaze on the white-robed demon lord Luoyang, shaking his head, “Hongshu, Xu Pu, you two leave first. Don’t worry about me.”
Hongshu turned first, and after a moment’s hesitation, Xu Pu also retreated.
Luoyang unusually did not pursue. Perhaps she found the golden flying sword Jinlou somewhat interesting, she stretched out two fingers to pinch the descending golden sword, ignoring the falling Chaolu near her chest, and said, “Xu, you’ve got some skill. You’re getting better and better. How did you enter the Realm of the Indestructible, and how did you get injured?”
The unsupported Chaolu fell straight to the ground, hidden by the endless rainwater flowing from the gutter.
Xu Fengnian did not look at Chaolu and Jinlou, and asked, “Do you have to kill me?”
Luo Yang slightly tightened her grip, bending the golden thread into an arc, and smiled, “Give me a reason not to kill you—let’s hear it. On second thought, you’re going to die anyway. I’d rather know your true identity.”
Xu Fengnian replied straightforwardly, “Xu Fengnian.”
Luo Yang, expressionless, said, “Not as pleasant as Xu Dianxia.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. Without any visible movement or energy stirring, the morning dew suddenly surged forward, aiming once again at the white-robed demoness’s heart. This strike was sufficiently treacherous and sharp, with impeccable timing—so precise that even a blind lute player like Xue Songguan might be caught off guard.
Yet she merely uttered a soft “Hmm,” extended her fingers again, and caught the strangely peculiar ethereal flying sword. She murmured in realization, “The Wu Clan’s sword-rearing secret art. It seems your sword talent isn’t nearly as impressive as your knife skills. You carry twelve flying swords in total, yet only this little one has fully matured in its sword embryo.”
For the first time being mocked at his talent, Xu Fengnian didn’t fly into a rage or curse. He remained still. Xu Pu and Hong Shu, both instinctively sensing his intent, also halted their movements, forming a tripartite encirclement around the white-clad woman.
The heavy rain gradually ceased.
Though no mountains lay nearby, the post-rain vibrancy of greenery was absent.
Luo Yang asked, “I’ve heard you’re half a disciple of Li Chungan. But what relation do you have with Deng Tai’a? You’d better have some connection. I’ve been killing my way here just to deliver a message to this newly ascended swordsman cultivator—I wish to fight him.”
“Do you really think yourself invincible in this world?”
Xu Fengnian spat and laughed, “Bring me back Huang Baozhuang. Compared to you, that gentle girl is much more to my liking.”
Luo Yang smiled, brimming with killing intent—not aimed at Xu Fengnian’s reckless tongue, but at a man atop the city wall, carrying an unnamed sword. She mocked, “No wonder your courage has grown. It’s him who’s been transmitting voice to you.”
The clouds scattered, and a single ray of sunlight pierced through the sky, illuminating precisely that swordsman.
He looked as if a celestial immortal had descended from heaven.
The middle-aged swordsman, whose appearance was otherwise unremarkable, drifted down gracefully, a slight smile on his face. “I did transmit voice to this young man, but the exact words were, ‘Do you think she’s worthy of looking down on Deng Tai’a?'”
Xu Fengnian curled his lips, “If it were Li Chungan instead, that might work.”
Luo Yang flicked her finger, knocking aside two indifferent flying swords. She gazed toward this contemporary swordsman, the newly emerged champion who had just fought against Toba Boda, her eyes burning with fervor.
She stomped her foot.
Rainwater splashed from the entire street, transforming into countless flying swords.
You are the third-ranked swordsman under heaven—I shall kill you with flying swords.
The reason I rank behind you is merely because we have yet to cross blades. Nothing more.
This was the arrogance of Luo Yang, the fourth strongest under heaven!
Deng Tai’a did not look at the myriad flying swords brimming with killing intent. He glanced at Xu Fengnian and said calmly, “This fight is repayment of the Dao teachings I owed Li Chungan for his lending of the sword across ten thousand miles. Step back, close your eyes, and watch carefully.”
“Close your eyes and watch carefully?”
An outsider might not understand, but Xu Fengnian, newly entered the Diamond Body realm, deeply grasped its meaning.
It’s like after a sword embryo matures, guiding the sword with qi becomes trivial. It pales in comparison to directing the sword wherever the heart desires. The previous failure to land a decisive strike wasn’t because the flying sword lacked sharpness, but because Xu Fengnian’s spiritual cultivation still had shortcomings. If someone like Deng Tai’a, whose killing techniques are unrivaled in the world, had launched that attack, could Luo Yang have remained so composed and relaxed? Deng Tai’a’s sword techniques claim second place, and none dare claim first—not even Li Chungan denied this. If Xu Fengnian watched with his eyes open, he would gain the minor while losing the major, gaining little and losing much. By closing his eyes, one of his five senses would vanish, yet the other four would be subtly enhanced. It’s the same simple principle as why the blind often have sharper hearing and the deaf often have keener vision.
He signaled Hong Shu and Xu Pu to leave without worry, then dashed along the street, retreating nearly half a mile before sitting cross-legged and closing his eyes.
On this day, not only did the entire southern wall of Dunhuang collapse, but everything south of where Xu Fengnian sat was utterly destroyed.
In the end, the outcome of this battle remained unchanged: the third remained third, and the fourth remained fourth.
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