It seemed the young girl who had grown up in the temple was relieved upon hearing Xu Fengnian’s praise—this was her first time applying rouge. Just as she was about to smile, the powder on her face began to flake off, much to her dismay. Heartbroken, she quickly schooled her expression back into solemnity and timidly stood by the swing. The little monk stood dumbfounded, likely failing to recognize that the “goblin” before him was the girl he adored most.
As the head maid of Wutong Courtyard, Sweet Potato was a master at applying makeup. Seeing the girl waste such fine cosmetics while the young master indulged her antics made it hard for her not to laugh. She could only suppress her amusement and step further away. Though the girl’s looks, demeanor, and bearing were ordinary, she was still a guest invited into the palace by the young master—disrespect was out of the question.
Xu Fengnian still had to visit the Listening Tide Pavilion, so he instructed Sweet Potato to “gently” correct the girl’s makeup. A few boxes of rouge were nothing, but she couldn’t possibly go out looking like that—it was fine during the day, but at night…
Before heading to the top floor to meet his master, Li Yishan, Xu Fengnian first stopped on the second floor to find Bai Hu’er Lian (White Fox Face). He was standing on a ladder, flipping through a secret manual from the higher shelves, with his spring thunder saber hanging at his waist, its hilt tied with a red string.
The books Xu Fengnian had moved from the armory to Wudang had all been selected by Bai Hu’er Lian. Though both practiced saber techniques, Bai Hu’er Lian far surpassed Xu Fengnian in skill and mastery—their difference in cultivation was as stark as their positions now, one at the foot of the ladder and the other at the top.
Bai Hu’er Lian was intensely focused, striving for thorough understanding in everything he did, so Xu Fengnian waited patiently for him to finish reading.
Once Bai Hu’er Lian descended, he scrutinized the “Xu Straw Bag” he hadn’t seen in a year, his gaze finally settling on the spot between Xu Fengnian’s brows. Xu Fengnian’s appearance was undeniably striking—phoenix eyes, silkworm brows, and a roguish charm when he smirked. However, when they first met during Xu Fengnian’s wanderings, he had been at his lowest. Yet, even Bai Hu’er Lian had been surprised when the grime was washed away, revealing a face far more handsome than expected—though his carefree demeanor didn’t quite match.
Now, after relentless saber training, something seemed different. Bai Hu’er Lian didn’t ask what had changed. Instead, he simply slashed out with his Spring Thunder Saber, its aura domineering.
Xu Fengnian’s Winter Embroider, a blade of the same origin, swiftly countered.
Bai Hu’er Lian, surprised that his strike had been blocked, arched an eyebrow. “Did you learn advanced swordplay at Wudang?”
Xu Fengnian, his right hand numb from the clash, slowly sheathed Winter Embroider and grinned. “No, but that old Taoist gave me a copy of *The Green Pavilion’s Sixty-Year Sword Record*. I just borrowed some sword techniques and adapted them to saberplay. Interested? It’s a Wudang secret manual—couldn’t bring it down the mountain, but I memorized it all. Want me to transcribe it for you?”
Bai Hu’er Lian didn’t stand on ceremony and nodded. He led the way to the second-floor balcony, Xu Fengnian following.
Bai Hu’er Lian spoke softly, “The old nine kingdoms of the Central Plains were practically ruled by aristocratic families—clans like Langya Wang, Jiayang Xie, Wukang Yao, Boling Cui, and Lujiang He were as wealthy as nations. The Grand Pillar’s destruction of cities and slaughter of surrendered soldiers—even killing enemy emperors—meant little to some. But what Xu Xiao achieved was akin to lifting Mount Tai to cross the Northern Sea—he shattered nearly half of the ten great clans. The Wukang Yao of Southern Tang were exterminated down to the last child, and the Lujiang He of Eastern Yue were reduced to a mere twenty widows and orphans. That was what the Liyang Dynasty truly wanted.”
Xu Fengnian frowned. “I know all this. My master mentioned it.”
Bai Hu’er Lian smiled. “Relax. I’m from the Southern Palace Clan of Northern Mang—no grudges between us. I bring this up to talk about the Great Zheng Nine-Rank System, maintained by the aristocracy for two centuries.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Nowadays, the rankings of martial artists seem to follow this system. Convenient.”
Bai Hu’er Lian murmured, “Like the vacant title of ‘World’s First,’ the Great Zheng system rarely assigns the highest rank—the so-called ‘Saint Rank,’ reserved only for sages.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “True. But I heard decades ago, a genius from the Xie Clan—unmatched in both intellect and martial arts—once evaluated the world alongside my master. Li Yishan critiqued generals and beauties, while that Xie pillar composed the far weightier *Martial Rankings* for the jianghu. As for the *Literary Rankings*, he only finished half before dying. My second sister once thought to continue it, but admitted she was far from his level.”
The reputations of “Northern Xie, Southern Li” had once shaken the world.
Bai Hu’er Lian said flatly, “That man was my father. He died. Those ranked on his list wanted him dead. Those left off it wanted him dead too. No reason he wouldn’t.”
Xu Fengnian was stunned. “No wonder you aim to be the world’s first.”
Bai Hu’er Lian glanced at him. “Your techniques are mid-to-low tier, your saber momentum mid-to-high, and your inner strength upper-mid. Catching up to me isn’t impossible.”
Xu Fengnian blinked. “Really?”
Bai Hu’er Lian’s lips curled slightly. “If I stagnate past forty, maybe.”
Xu Fengnian leaned on the railing, smiling softly. “Still as blunt as ever. Like Old Huang.”
Bai Hu’er Lian glanced at the pristine Winter Embroider, the last trace of regret in his heart dissipating. “How much longer can you fool the world?”
Xu Fengnian sighed. “At least until I fully inherit the 300,000 Northern Liang cavalry. If I weren’t a wastrel, how could the one in the capital sleep soundly? And if he doesn’t sleep, how could my family rest easy? After all, the world still bends to his will. Xu Xiao built this legacy, but opposing the scholars and the jianghu, with few reliable allies in court… Over the years, Northern Liang has been steadily divided. Yan Chiji’s father, rushing to the capital upon imperial decree, wasn’t the first—and won’t be the last. Li Yishan said if I were too clever, I wouldn’t live long—or at least not happily. The best outcome would be becoming a hostage in the capital. But if I played the fool too well, the Northern Liang cavalry would scatter before Xu Xiao’s death. Even my own 800 Feng Battalion only knows Chen Zhibao—they couldn’t care less about the young master.”
Bai Hu’er Lian smirked. “Every family has its troubles. Noble houses seem to have more.”
Xu Fengnian unconsciously rubbed Winter Embroider’s hilt. “No matter. I still have two years to wander. Might even take a trip through the jianghu. Once I’ve had my fill, I’ll reclaim what’s rightfully mine.”
Bai Hu’er Lian frowned.
Xu Fengnian noticed. “What’s wrong?”
Bai Hu’er Lian turned and strode back inside without a word.
Watching his retreating figure, Xu Fengnian looked down at Winter Embroider and suddenly understood. Was he upset about how closely Xu Fengnian handled the saber? The young master laughed. “This is a killing blade, not some lady’s boudoir trinket. Can’t I touch it as I please? Besides, you gave it to me—I could sleep with it or take it to the privy if I wanted!”
A cold snort came from inside, followed by the crash of a bookshelf being split by Spring Thunder.
Xu Fengnian hurried upstairs to find Li Yishan, who had grown frailer, his face as pale as snow—a sight that unnerved him.
The recluse scholar of Northern Liang Palace chuckled. “Should’ve kept Wei Beishan here. He’d have been good practice for you.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “I heard Old Kui defeated Wei Beishan?”
Li Yishan coughed, took a swig from his gourd, and steadied his breath. “Wei Beishan was only mid-tier. Against Chu Kuangnu, who was a hair’s breadth from the highest rank, defeat was inevitable.”
Xu Fengnian wondered, “Are there really only ten top-tier masters in the world?”
Li Yishan smirked. “The so-called ‘highest rank’ in martial arts is nothing compared to the scholars’ rankings of old. Cheapened.”
Xu Fengnian hesitated. “Bai Hu’er Lian said he’s the son of that Xie genius—the one who rivaled you.”
Li Yishan laughed. “He didn’t need to say it. One look was enough. That ‘White Fox Face’ of yours resembles Xie Guanying—in looks and spirit. If I hadn’t recognized it, I’d be blind. Though I’m still curious—is the kid male or female? Prophecies said Xie Shuyang should’ve had a son, but that face is far too pretty for a man.”
He found the nickname fitting and used it casually, unbothered by its absurdity.
Xu Fengnian agreed. “Exactly! I refused to believe it at first. If he’s a man, what a waste!”
Li Yishan nodded, clicking his tongue with rare amusement, his usual gloom lifting slightly.
Truly, master and disciple were cut from the same cloth.
Xu Fengnian straightened. “On the way back, I met a monk claiming to be from Mount Lantuo. Said he wanted to take me to the Western Regions.”
Li Yishan took a sip of wine. “Monk Long Shou is quite famous there. Studied the *Vajra Peak Yoga Sutra* under a Vajra master, translated over sixty esoteric texts. His lineage is formidable—his predecessor attained the Rainbow Body, a great accomplishment.”
Xu Fengnian sighed. “What’s that to me? Does he expect me to become a monk just because of his mountain’s reputation?”
Li Yishan smiled. “Whether it concerns you or not, you’ll only know if you go.”
Xu Fengnian groaned. “Master, spare me. Their training is worse than the Wu Family Sword Tomb—four sessions daily, starting at midnight, barefoot regardless of weather, less than four hours of sleep. Sometimes meditating on stone floors, winter or summer. If it were saber training, I’d endure it. But memorizing scriptures? Just kill me.”
Li Yishan’s eyes twinkled. “Do you know who Long Shou’s master is?”
Xu Fengnian was clueless.
Li Yishan laughed. “She’s the only female Vajra master at Mount Lantuo—said to be peerless in both Buddhism and beauty, hailed as the Bodhisattva of Mortals. One dual cultivation away from enlightenment.”
Xu Fengnian’s shock turned into a sly grin. “In that case, it’d be best if she *were* related to me.”
Li Yishan’s smile turned odd.
Xu Fengnian hesitated. “What? Does this Bodhisattva kill without blinking?”
Li Yishan shook his head. “She’s merciful.”
Xu Fengnian grew more curious.
Li Yishan coughed, amused. “This Bodhisattva… is forty-two this year. Exactly twice your age. What a coincidence.”
Xu Fengnian shot to his feet, ready to chase down that damned monk with his saber.
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