A carriage slowly rolled out of the western gate of the state city. The coachman was a strong, dark-skinned youth, beside whom sat a woman in blue robes, teaching him how to drive the horses. Fortunately, the steeds were carefully selected from superior, well-trained mounts; otherwise, they would have knocked into many pedestrians before leaving the city. Inside the carriage sat only a young couple. The woman wore a violet robe, exuding a cold and formidable aura. The young man, dressed in white with a white dragon robe, had a calm yet commanding presence that overpowered hers. This dragon robe, unique to the entire Liyang Dynasty, appeared at a distance no different from a luxurious white silk robe. Upon closer inspection, however, it was exquisitely crafted, with nine dragons spitting pearls, vivid and lifelike, as if ready to leap forth.
Xu Fengnian thus simply set off for the Taian City. This journey was somewhat better than his first trip outside, yet far less grand than the second, which had been escorted by a hundred riders. Princess Jing’an, Pei Nanwei, ultimately lacked the audacity to accompany him publicly. Trapped like a caged bird, she could not visit the imperial capital and would likely have to stab several straw figures to vent her frustration. Fortunately, the reed beds were ever abundant, providing her ample material for such symbolic acts.
On his first trip to the capital, Xu Fengnian had brought two famous inkstones. One had already been given to Chen Xiliang, known as Bai’er, and was thus not included in this trip. One was unique to Liangzhou, a frozen iron inkstone fished from the bottom of a deep river, said to sharpen brushes as sharp as needles, matching the fierce local customs of Liangzhou. Truly, each land breeds its own people, and even the stones from this region were oddly hard. The other was a Shexian Yellow Stone As You WishPool Inkstone gifted by Xuan Qingfeng, a luxurious addition from Huishan. This was a local specialty near Huishan Mountain, where Huizhou inkstones and Southern Tang Zhou inkstones vied for the title of the world’s finest. There was a humorous saying: “Huizhou inkstones resemble scholars, while Zhou inkstones resemble beauties.”
Xu Fengnian, seizing the opportunity, spoke shrewdly and pragmatically: “You’re close to the source of Huizhou inkstones. Why not send me some? The more, the better. Scholars in Liangzhou favor them greatly. The saying goes, ‘Huizhou inkstones resemble scholars,’ and many are willing to spend fortunes on them. In Liangzhou, aside from salt and iron, we have few profitable industries. If you send me secret manuals, I can’t just set up a stall shouting that a single book costs thousands of taels of silver. Selling inkstones is much simpler and appears more refined. Besides, as Liangzhou’s bureaucracy grows, it’s inevitable. If you send ancient inkstones, I can even redistribute them. Every bit of savings I can offer Xu Xiao is one more bit I can help.”
Xuan Qingfeng mocked, “Are you still the young prince who used to spend money like water at pleasure houses? I’ve heard you even chased after wandering knights just to hand them silver.”
Xu Fengnian smiled candidly, “One doesn’t know the true cost of daily necessities until they manage a household. Besides, back then, I acted like a spoiled noble because that’s how I was expected to behave. Many things aren’t as simple as one might wish; it’s not always within one’s control, not just for you martial cultivators.”
Xuan Qingfeng stared at him for a long while.
Unfazed, Xu Fengnian continued, “Think about it—do you know any unconventional ways to bring wealth to Liangzhou? The biggest money-siphoning beast is the army. Liangzhou has thirty thousand iron cavalry. The fact that their numbers haven’t dwindled over the years while maintaining their combat effectiveness is seen by outsiders as a miracle. But the hardships involved—I won’t burden you with the details. You, who grew up tossing gold and pearls at birds, wouldn’t understand anyway.”
Xuan Qingfeng replied coldly, “Don’t I know the difficulty of managing Huishan? It’s not easy being in charge either.”
Xu Fengnian retorted sharply, “You only care about improving your cultivation. Deep down, you don’t care about the Xuan family’s fate. That kind of draining the pond method of management—can you even call that managing? You’re just a wastrel woman; you might as well just give up entirely.”
Xuan Qingfeng’s face darkened slightly with anger, but Xu Fengnian waved his hand dismissively: “Arguing with me is pointless. Focus on something meaningful—like how to make money. I’m serious about this.”
Xuan Qingfeng merely sneered in silence.
After a while, Xu Fengnian furrowed his brows and asked, “Did you just fart?”
A surge of killing intent filled the carriage as Xuan Qingfeng’s fury erupted.
Xu Fengnian burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “I was just kidding. It’s so fun teasing you.”
Xuan Qingfeng reined in her killing intent and said stiffly, “Back then, I should’ve just killed you at the Lantern Festival and been done with it.”
Xu Fengnian rested his cheek on his hand, gazing at the woman who had become a friend through conflict, his smile intoxicating.
Xuan Qingfeng turned her head away, entering a quiet meditative state. Her obscure martial path seemed like a shortcut but was actually a convoluted one. She possessed a memory no worse than Xu Fengnian’s, having read countless books in the treasure tower of Guniu Dagan since childhood. She also had the detailed insights left behind by Xuan Jingcheng, who had entered the Saint realm even earlier than Cao Changqing. Opportunities and blessings were matters of individual fortune—just like how Mu Jian Wen Hua met Huang Sanjia, or how Yuan Tingshan grew stronger from every setback. The same applied to those already renowned and at their peak.
Suddenly, Xu Fengnian said, “If you ever happen to fall for the right man one day, remember to invite me to your wedding feast.”
Xuan Qingfeng sneered, “Say another word, and I’ll rip that thing off and send you to the palace as a eunuch.”
Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes, “With your attitude, you’ll never get married in this lifetime.”
※※※
A thousand elite cavalry rode northward from the southern border of the empire.
In the middle of the cavalry formation, a luxurious carriage, where every inch of space was worth its weight in gold, exuded fragrant purple smoke from an incense burner. A refined middle-aged scholar, his hair adorned with a sandalwood flower pin, gently brushed the fragrant agarwood smoke with his hand, watching it swirl around his palm, clearly enjoying himself. Occasionally, he would sketch characters in the air, muttering to himself. By all rights, with a thousand royal riders outside, this grand display should have belonged to none other than Prince Yanche, Zhao Bing.
Hearing someone knock on the carriage wall from outside—more than a dozen times in succession—the elegant scholar lazily lifted the curtain. The rider outside was a handsome, well-built man in casual clothes, who grinned and asked, “Nalan, are you sure you won’t come out and try riding for a bit?”
Seeing “Prince Yanche” about to lower the curtain again, the rugged rider sighed in resignation, “Alright, alright—I’ll call you You Ci if that makes you happy. But really, you should get some exercise. It can’t hurt.”
The scholar smiled, “There are many ways to maintain health—breathing techniques, herbal medicine, timing, moderation in desires, and so on. But above all, cultivating virtue is the most important.”
The rider groaned, “I give up. You ride in your carriage, and I’ll ride my horse. We’ll go our separate ways.”
The scholar continued with a pleasant smile, “Come on in. I just happen to feel like reading you the *Yinfu Jing*.”
The rider feigned anger, “Who’s the Prince Yanche here—you or me?”
The scholar still smiled serenely, “In the world, two or three out of ten things are unexpected. People often think everything is fine just because nothing seems wrong at the moment. If you come in, I’ll tell you about the unexpected things on this journey to the capital.”
The rider snorted, “This time, I won’t give you the satisfaction.”
The elegant man, addressed first as Nalan and then You Ci, smiled and let the curtain drop. The rider sighed heavily and obediently dismounted to enter the carriage.
The rider—Prince Yanche Zhao Bing!
The scholar—none other than Nalan Youci, the most renowned strategist in the empire.
※※※
Prince Guangling Zhao Yi led eight hundred elite Kuibei cavalry northward toward the capital.
Before departure, he specially went to bid farewell to the regional governor Sun Xiji, only to be met with a humiliating refusal.
This cavalry unit had over a dozen carriages, the two largest undoubtedly carrying Prince Zhao Yi and his son Zhao Biao, whose combined weight likely reached seven hundred jin.
The wide and quiet road had already been cleared of pedestrians. The fat, pig-like Prince Zhao Biao pulled open the curtain and shouted, “Father, isn’t that old man Sun being too arrogant? He didn’t even give you face? Does he want to rebel?”
Inside the carriage, Prince Guangling resembled a small mountain, with two beautiful attendants sitting on his thighs. Zhao Yi gave a meaningful glance to one of the beauties, who smiled seductively and pulled open the curtain. Only then did Zhao Yi lazily speak, “Biao’er, may your words bring good fortune. It would be better if the old chancellor did rebel.”
The chief strategist of the Chunsue Lou, with a fox-like face and sharp eyes, turned his gaze.
Beside him rode General Lu Shengxiang, astride a red horse, exuding heroic might.
The two formed a stark contrast.
The strategist with two wisps of goatee beard adjusted his sore buttocks and rode closer to Lu Shengxiang, who was about to become the ninth general in the capital, and whispered, “If Sun Xiji really colludes with Cao Changqing and is determined to restore the old kingdom, and if the Northern Wei joins forces from within, not only will General Gu be preoccupied with the northern front, but the imperial garrison won’t dare to march south to reinforce. Then Prince Yanche in the south will be happy to watch the tigers fight. The exiles of Xichu who harbor rebellion are like weeds that grow back after a fire—no matter how hard you try to eradicate them. Without you, General Lu, our Guangling Circuit will truly be in a desperate situation, like a leaking roof in a storm.”
The Liyang Empire had appointed a total of eight generals. In Liangzhou, there was Prince Xu Xiao and Protector Chen Zhibao. In the imperial court, there was Minister of War Gu Jiantang, and the venerable General Gongsun Yongle, who had guarded the Liaodong border for a lifetime. The remaining four were also veteran generals with distinguished records from the Spring and Autumn Wars, though most had retired, with only one transferred to the unrelated Ministry of Revenue. Lu Shengxiang was about to leave Guangling and be promoted to Deputy Minister of War, standing alongside the Tangxi Sword Immortal from the Jiangnan Lu family. During the Spring and Autumn Wars, many brilliant battles had occurred—such as the fierce battle at the Concubine’s Tomb, the bitter struggle at Xilei Wall, the decade-long siege of Xiangfan City, and General Gu Jiantang’s gradual conquest of Xiongzhou. However, the two most celebrated and agile cavalry raids were those led by Chu Luxian’s conquest of Shu and Lu Shengxiang’s thousand riders breaking through Dongyue in a snowy night. As one of the most renowned generals of the age, Lu Shengxiang’s appointment to the Ministry of War, where Gu Jiantang was gradually stepping down, was far more justified than the appointment of Lu Baijie, who had no notable achievements.
Lu Shengxiang sneered, “If Sun Xiji dares to rebel, I’ll personally kill him.”
The strategist from Chunsue Lou, with his goatee beard, let out a clucking sound of amusement.
※※※
Prince Jiaodong Zhao Sui led five hundred retinues southward, making him the only prince heading “south” to pay homage to the emperor.
Zhao Sui sat in a simple carriage, his face gaunt and solemn, filled with worries.
His heir Zhao Yi rode among the cavalry, indistinguishable from the common soldiers.
Because he had been close to Xu Xiao in the past, he had suffered greatly over the years. Once ensnared in a carefully plotted trap in the capital, over thirty of his elite subordinates had been demoted or exiled, causing a major loss of morale and strength from which he had yet to recover.
Zhao Sui put down his military treatise and sighed bitterly, “Xu the Lame must be unwilling to come. I wonder if that infamous nephew of his has the courage.”
※※※
Three hundred riders departed from Xiangfan City.
Mirroring the relationship between Prince Yanche and Nalan Youci, the carriage was not occupied by Prince Jing’an Zhao Xun, but rather by the blind strategist.
Zhao Xun felt unusually refreshed.
With Lu Xu’s strategy, the Song family, once expected to dominate the literary world for three generations, was easily toppled like a paper tiger, and the old master Song died of rage and illness on his deathbed.
※※※
Prince Huainan Zhao Ying, widely regarded as the weakest among the princes, brought only a few dozen riders eastward toward the capital.
Inside the carriage, he drank himself into a stupor, surrounded by numerous wine jars. It seemed he would spend far more time drunk than sober on this journey.
As he slept soundly, he was unaware of a lone rider passing by his pitifully small entourage.
A white-clothed man from Western Shu, sipping plum wine.
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