As dusk fell, Xu Fengnian finally reached the source of the Ruoshui River at the border of the Baoping Prefecture. It was a lush oasis, like a green pearl Inlaided in a golden sand disk, bringing joy to the eyes. At the edge of this verdant haven, beside a small emerald river, Xu Fengnian scooped up handfuls of water to wash his face. The The Crimson Robe of Shadows danced like a crimson koi in the water. Before leaving Beiliang, he had learned that this place was heavily guarded—not only by a permanent garrison of six hundred imperial cavalry, but also by numerous Dragonfly Catcher and Butterfly Catching Attendant under the shadowy chancellor Li Mibi, forming a vast spiderweb of surveillance. At its head stood an elite swordsman from the Zhu Wang, both protecting and closely monitoring an elderly man in his seventies. Every outing, every meal had to be reported directly to Li Mibi. Alongside the old man’s own loyalists, the two factions were locked in a tense balance, cooperating to repel wave after wave of assassination attempts.
Yet to Xu Fengnian, the reality seemed far removed from the intelligence he had received. The hidden sentries were sparse, and the once six-hundred-strong cavalry stationed in a nearby camp had dwindled to a mere two hundred. After splashing a few handfuls of cold water on his face, Xu Fengnian smiled wryly. No matter how formidable the old man still appeared in the eyes of the Northern Wei, after five or six years of complete political withdrawal and retirement, his influence had inevitably waned. The political landscape of the Northern Wei court mirrored that of Liyang—initially dominated by southern chancellors and northern generals. While the Southern Chancellor Huang Songpu had set a fine precedent for southern generals, even earlier, there had been someone who, as a refugee from the Spring and Autumn Period, rose to a position second only to the emperor himself in the Northern Court. Whenever the Empress went hunting or convened discussions with her ministers, only this man could earn the respect of the arrogant royal aristocrats. It was largely due to this elder that the Northern Wei had successfully implemented its policy of governance by scholars. Xu Fengnian’s purpose in coming here was to meet this very man, the pillar of the Northern Wei, praised by the Empress herself. Who could believe that the heir of Beiliang, fated to be at odds with the Northern Wei, would travel thousands of miles, cutting through countless obstacles, only to walk willingly into a trap?
Xu Fengnian had chosen this secluded spot by the water deliberately, not rushing into the heart of the oasis. It was clearly a grand formation of mystic arts. To enter recklessly would risk being captured as an assassin. He who walks ninety miles still has half the journey left. Xu Fengnian sat in stillness as the night deepened, while the The Crimson Robe of Shadows floated lazily in the water, seemingly carefree and content. Xu Fengnian focused his mind like a meditating monk, recalling a woman riding a camel he had met less than ten days ago on the Gobi. He didn’t even need to see her face to know she bore the appearance of a dragon maiden. Otherwise, he, at his current level of cultivation, would not have revealed himself just to ask for water. As for his later act of assistance, it was simply out of gratitude—returning a favor of water with a favor of spring.
Ancient texts spoke of Mirage Maiden, who, whenever they entered the sea or the desert, would cause mirages—whether sea or desert illusions, they were both manifestations of the dragon-like Mirage, exhaling mist to form palaces. Unlike Gonggong, who possessed divine strength, or the Phoenix Consort, who embodied the grace of empresses, the Mirage Maiden had long been seen by emperors seeking immortality as the key to finding the legendary immortal mountains. The mirages seen by mortals were false, but such illusions could not appear without cause. Throughout history, when emperors sent alchemists to sea in search of immortals, a dragon maiden always accompanied them. Yet the exact secret techniques for guidance remained unknown. Whether that woman would eventually become a key to an emperor’s ambitions was of no concern to Xu Fengnian, nor was it something he, a prince whose own position was precarious, could decide.
How many in this world could live as freely and righteously as the old man in the goatskin cloak had in his youth? Most martial cultivators, after suffering hardship, came to believe in the principle of observing much, doing little, and speaking even less. One man, Xu Xiao, became a legend in the Jianghu; another, the Empress of the Northern Wei, turned all martial cultivators into her hounds. With a mere whisper, she had bound the fates of two entire worlds of martial cultivators.
Suddenly, Xu Fengnian’s eyes flew open. He turned toward a narrow path along the water’s edge. At the end of the path, an old man and a child approached together. The child, with red lips and white teeth, rode a bamboo horse, his innocent charm evident in every motion. Dressed in wide-sleeved Taoist robes, he shouted “Jia! Jia!” as he rode, his joy unfeigned. Beside him walked an elderly man with white hair and beard, tall and dignified, wearing a scholar’s cap and green robe. Holding the child’s hand in one and two scrolls of scripture in the other, he saw Xu Fengnian—who made no attempt to hide—and showed no surprise. He released the child’s hand and waved with a smile, like an old friend reunited after many years.
Xu Fengnian did not hide because he had already guessed the old man’s identity—Xu Huainan, once the most powerful minister of the Northern Wei court. Originally from Liaodong, upon closer inspection, he was even a distant elder relative of Xu Xiao’s generation, though such a connection was so tenuous it could be ignored. Xu Huainan had arrived in the Northern Wei before the exodus of scholars, becoming the chief strategist behind the Empress’s coup and ascension. A man of vast learning, he had devoted his entire life to the governance of the Northern Wei. When Liyang first stabilized the Spring and Autumn states and launched a full-scale invasion of the Northern Wei, it was Xu Huainan who urged the newly enthroned Empress to lead a southern campaign in person, resulting in today’s division between north and south. During Liyang’s second northern campaign, it was Xu Huainan, already retired, who returned to devise the strategy that allowed the rising star Tuoba Busi to crush Liyang’s three fronts. In recent years, he had lived in seclusion by the Ruoshui River, officially due to a scandal involving a double agent in his household who had sold military intelligence, provoking the Empress’s wrath. In truth, the rift between Xu Huainan and the Empress stemmed from a fundamental disagreement in their attitudes toward the Murong clan. The so-called spy case that shook the court was merely a face-saving compromise between the two.
Looking at this man who had once climbed to the pinnacle of power and then slowly descended, Xu Fengnian could not help but feel a flood of emotions. Before him sat a statesman whose renown and achievements were truly on par with Xu Xiao. Xu Fengnian bowed respectfully. The old man, full of vigor, approached and helped the young man to his feet. After a few moments of silent observation, he smiled warmly. “This old man never imagined it would be you who came to visit me. I even considered the possibility that Xu Xiao himself might come. It’s a tremendous surprise, a true delight. No ordinary soul dares to be born into the Xu family without courage.”
Xu Fengnian smiled bitterly.
Xu Huainan patted the child’s head and gazed at the rippling water. “Don’t worry. There’s been much commotion along the border between Liang and Wei. I removed a key swordsman from Zhu Wang because I guessed you’d come, and I took the opportunity to withdraw most of the imperial cavalry. This place may seem the most dangerous, but it’s actually the safest. During Qingming, you killed Tao Qianzhi in Liuzhou City, then fought Tuoba Chunsun and gave that arrogant young general a bitter lesson. Along the way, you slew the demon Xie Ling, who devoured human hearts. In Dunhuang, you even drew the sword of Deng Tai’a. It seems you’ve also tangled with the Princess’s faction on the Yellow River. Truly, you’ve amazed this old man. I said at the time, if you could make it alive to Ruoshui, I would meet you no matter what. Come, come, let’s sit and talk.”
Xu Huainan and Xu Fengnian sat on the grass by the water. Suddenly, the child’s face darkened with fury. Raising his bamboo horse, he prepared to strike the water. The oppressive qi made Xu Fengnian momentarily gasp for breath. The The Crimson Robe of Shadows leapt from the water, ready to stir up a storm. But Xu Huainan caught the bamboo pole and shook his head. The child’s aura receded, and his innocent expression returned. Noticing Xu Fengnian’s strange gaze, the old man revealed a hint of heavenly secrets, but only a hint. With a gentle smile, he said, “Even I cannot tell whether it’s the supreme technique of the Daoist Sanqing Transforms into Qi or some obscure method of severing the Three Corpses. But this child, he is truly unfortunate. In recent years, my humble dwelling has been deserted, and even the clever ones who know how to tend a cold stove have gradually lost patience. It is only thanks to this child’s company that my old age is not so dull.”
To the orthodox Daoists, the Golden Elixir of the Dragon and Tiger Mountains was the only legitimate path to immortality, while talismans and external elixirs were considered heterodox. As for the practice of severing the Three Corpses, it was regarded as left-handed sorcery not even recorded in any canonical texts. Moreover, Xu Fengnian had no interest in delving into such minutiae. If a mere little Taoist boy could make a shadowy creature, nearly saturated with yin energy, feel such imminent danger, was the Northern Wei truly so full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers?
Xu Huainan, already in his seventies yet showing no sign of age or fatigue, sat cross-legged and spoke softly. “Since you dared to come here, I will break my usual rules and speak frankly. These are words I had intended to take to my grave. If this had happened a year ago, I would have honored my agreement with Xu Xiao to plan for Beiliang’s conquest of the Northern Wei. I have no loyalty to the royal court, nor do I have a taste for being a woman’s hound. I served the Empress and worked tirelessly for her only because I harbored a deep resentment against the Spring and Autumn states and Liyang. Thus, I took pleasure in watching the chaos between Beiliang and the Northern Wei unfold, finding it more entertaining than reviewing a game of Go. Of course, like Xu Xiao, I am famously a poor Go player. But the Taiping Order of the Music Bureau, both on and off the board, is a true master. He traveled through Liyang for over a decade, grasping its pulse, and upon returning to the palace this time, he devised a brilliant strategy that encompassed the Northern Wei, Liyang, and Beiliang. Naturally, my role as strategist was replaced by this new imperial tutor. My years of waiting for the right price have become a joke. Xu Fengnian, tell me, since the royal court no longer has use for my words, even if I returned shamelessly, what could I possibly do?”
Xu Fengnian remained silent.
Xu Huainan, his tone tinged with self-mockery, did not look at the young prince who had traveled so far. “Are you very disappointed?”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “If I said I wasn’t, I wouldn’t believe myself.”
Xu Huainan, truly speaking from the heart, continued slowly. “In my lifetime, my family enjoyed great wealth and honor. But after my death, within ten years, my entire clan will be executed. Half of this is because I deliberately refrained from restraining my family members, allowing them to indulge in luxury and commit crimes. When I was Chancellor of the Northern Court, I also made enemies of the Yelü and Murong clans. The other half is because the Empress, after all, is a woman. Women have a natural tendency to hold grudges. Before her death, she will surely settle old scores with me. Even if, by some miracle, she refrained out of old affection, the next emperor of the Northern Wei would still target my descendants. I believe I have treated my family well—thirty years of glory and prosperity that most people could not dream of across multiple lifetimes. But there is one person who must not die, or at least must not die so soon. It is my small recompense for breaking my promise to Xu Xiao.”
Xu Fengnian looked up, puzzled.
Xu Huainan smiled gently. “When Xu Xiao had Zhao Changling and Li Yishan as his right and left hands, I was no immortal. I can’t give you two such advisors, but I can offer you one of them—the future King of Beiliang. If you trust me, you may use him freely. He was destined to die of overwork before the age of forty anyway.”
He pointed to his head. “All the strategies and schemes, both open and covert, that I have learned from history and discovered through my own insights, I have passed on to this unassuming grandson from a concubine’s line.”
Before Xu Fengnian could ask, the old man smiled. “He is already on his way to Beiliang. You will meet when the time is right.”
Xu Fengnian rose to express his gratitude, but the old man waved him off. “It is only what I owe your father and you. My rise in the Northern Wei court would not have been possible without Xu Xiao’s help.”
Suddenly, Xu Huainan laughed. “Do you know, when I left home as a youth, I aspired to be a Confucian scholar, to travel ten thousand miles before reading ten thousand books, content to annotate and explain the classics. Who would have thought I would end up here today?”
Xu Fengnian had no words to reply.
Xu Huainan patted Xu Fengnian’s shoulder kindly. “The future belongs to you young people. It is your time to shape the world.”
After a moment of reflection, the old man asked, “I’ve heard you’ve trained in both sword and saber arts. Do you have a Beiliang saber?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “It was difficult to bring one into the Northern Wei. I only have a short saber called Chunlei.”
The old man slapped his own forehead and laughed. “Old fool! A short saber is fine.”
Xu Fengnian retrieved the Chunlei saber from his satchel.
Xu Huainan placed it on his knee and gazed at it for a long time. “I have no joy left in life, nor do I fear death. The only reason I linger is to secure a future for my grandson and to wait for a worthy reason to die. Since I owe Xu Xiao, I cannot also owe you. And I have found a way to betray no one.”
Xu Huainan drew the Chunlei saber, handed it to Xu Fengnian, and smiled with rare magnanimity. “Come, come, cut off Xu Huainan’s head, place it in a sack, and return to Beiliang to become its King.”
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