As the Beginning of Winter approached, a peculiar old man with a knack for appearing and vanishing like a ghost took up residence at the Xiama Wei Post Station. His eyebrows, long and white like willow branches, caught the attention of Xu Qingfeng, who only knew that the old man had entered the courtyard a few days prior, exchanged a few words with Xu Fengnian, and then left briefly. Upon his return, Xu Fengnian seemed to change subtly. He still ate, chatted, and slept normally, yet Xu Qingfeng sensed something was off.
As snowfall gradually ceased, the young man Wu moved the snowman, previously relocated to the corridor, back into the courtyard. On this day, the clouds parted slightly, bathing the world in sudden light. Xu Fengnian lay on a rattan chair, while the enigmatic old man with white eyebrows, like a mythical dragon, revealed only his head, not his tail. The snowman stood beneath the dragon-clawed locust tree, and Xu Fengnian gazed at it in a daze. Xu Qingfeng brought over a rattan chair and lay down beside him, rocking it with a creaking sound. She remarked that while it was nothing for a woman to stand tall and proud, the true spectacle was when she lay flat, for then the view was most impressive. Just as uneven terrain makes for more interesting scenery, so too does life.
Xu Qingfeng asked, “Who is that old man?”
In recent days, Xu Fengnian had answered every question without reluctance or a stern expression, his temper improving instead. “He only said he exchanged an arm with Li Chungan.”
Xu Qingfeng, ever the provocateur, continued, “Isn’t Li the Old Sword Immortal half your master? If your enemy is right before you, why not draw your sword?”
Xu Fengnian replied softly, “One sword to settle grudges, one sword to repay kindness. Why should Li Chungan need anyone else to avenge him? Besides, Lao Huang was his apprentice.”
Xu Qingfeng frowned. “The toothless swordsman, Sword Nine Huang, is this old man’s apprentice?”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
After a pause, Xu Qingfeng finally asked, “So what really happened?”
Xu Fengnian kept his eyes fixed on the snowman until Xu Qingfeng was nearly at her limit of patience. Then he said, “Xu Qingfeng, your dream is to become a martial cultivator like Wang Xianzhi? To become the empress of the Jianghu of Liyang? But I know that was after the battle at Guniu Ridge. What was your dream before that?”
Xu Qingfeng replied calmly, “My father could walk into my mother’s courtyard, and we would celebrate Mid-Autumn together, drinking homemade osmanthus wine.”
Xu Fengnian smiled in return. “When I was young, my dream was to become a great hero who punishes the wicked and protects the innocent. Whether I wielded a sword or a blade didn’t matter, but I had to fight for justice, first avenging my mother, then making a name for myself across the Jianghu. I even hoped to find a woman as kind and strong as my mother. Back then, I never thought about becoming the Prince of Beiliang, because I never imagined Xu Xiao would grow old.”
He then pointed at the snowman. “Dreams are like that little snowman. They’re not worth any money, treasured only by children who wouldn’t trade them for gold or silver. But by the time you and I reach our age, we rarely speak of dreams anymore. We think them indulgent and impractical. Like me—I no longer have any illusions about being a hero of the Jianghu. I deal with you through mutual interest and deceit. In the future, those martial cultivators who pledge loyalty to Beiliang will be nothing more than hired swords, bought and sold like commodities. What I said on the imperial road wasn’t a dream—it was a duty. And your dream now isn’t a dream anymore, it’s ambition. Of all the people I know, only two still hold onto true dreams, unchanged for years. Our dreams, when exposed to the sun, melt away like snowmen. But theirs endure. If the snowman disappears this year, they’ll wait for next year’s snow to build another. Year after year.”
Xu Qingfeng smiled. “One is Jiang Ni, who only wants to kill you, and the other is Wen Hua, who only wants to become a swordsman who can afford an iron blade.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Exactly. Those who now think their childhood dreams were childish were never real dreams to begin with.”
Xu Fengnian said calmly, “Wen Hua is a fool who values his dream more than his life. Because he possesses something precious that I lack, I admire him. Clever people love to mock those who don’t cry until they see the coffin. Wen Hua has always been the butt of those jokes. As a child, carving bamboo swords, perhaps laughed at by his family. As an adult, carrying a wooden sword, mocked by neighbors. Even after meeting me, I’d tease him every few days for being stubborn, destined for failure. After we parted ways, I sometimes thought that if Wen Hua were ever killed on the Jianghu, I’d surely avenge him, wiping out his enemies. When I heard of Wen Buseng in the capital, I actually hoped it wasn’t Wen Hua. Not because I feared my brother would steal my spotlight, but because I know, having trained in martial arts myself, that to gain anything, you must pay a price. As the heir of Beiliang, many sacrifices that might seem daunting to others are manageable for me, given my family’s strength. But Wen Hua? He’s just an ordinary man. What could he possibly offer, besides his dream, more precious than his life? If even the foundation of Beiliang cannot afford a single defeat under the watchful eyes of Liyang and Beiman, how much less can Wen Hua afford one?”
Xu Qingfeng said calmly, “So Wen Hua is Wen Buseng.”
Xu Fengnian stood and walked to the old locust tree, crouching down. Xu Qingfeng, almost unconsciously, followed him. Xu Fengnian scooped up a handful of snow from the ground and added it to the snowman, patting it gently. “Wen Hua’s two swords were taught by Huang Sanjia, the one who made his dream possible. Huang Sanjia asked him to kill me. If it were you, killing me would bring great fame, whether you succeeded or not. You could even marry a beauty from the Beauty Rankings. Xu Qingfeng, what would you do?”
Few women could carry off pure colors in their clothing—black and white were manageable, but red or purple were nearly impossible. Yet Xu Qingfeng wore deep purple with ease, a testament to her extraordinary beauty and bearing. She thought for a moment and replied with a smile, “Of course I’d kill you, without hesitation. Even if you gave me the imperial seal as a gift, granting me great advantage, if Huang Longshi appeared before me today and offered me the chance to reach the Earth Immortal realm within years, with no worries afterward, I’d kill you without mercy. At most, I’d spare your body out of old sentiment.”
Xu Fengnian laughed and looked up. “So we still have old sentiment between us?”
To his surprise, Xu Qingfeng didn’t twist the knife in his wound. But in this moment, the phrase “adding frost to snow” would have been more fitting.
As Xu Fengnian continued to pile snow onto the snowman, Xu Qingfeng suddenly felt a surge of inexplicable anger and kicked the snowman to pieces.
Xu Fengnian stood, and on his rattan chair now lay the old man who had delivered the message the previous night. Xu Qingfeng waved Xu Fengnian away, signaling him to leave the courtyard, while she began to rebuild the snowman.
Xu Fengnian lay on the chair beside the old man. The age difference between them was vast—perhaps four or five generations.
With his eyebrows fluttering, the old man gently stroked his white eyebrows, leisurely enjoying himself. “All my life, I’ve loved only to challenge swords, and only the strongest swords of my foes. The Wu Clan Sword Grave claimed to be the pinnacle of swordsmanship, so I made their Su Wang look foolish. When Deng Tai’a was young, barely surviving among the Sword Mountains, I taught him not a single sword technique. I only told him that if he didn’t take up a sword, he would never amount to anything. But in the end, Deng Tai’a still chose the path of the sword, a stubbornness ingrained since birth. I couldn’t do a thing about it. Beneath the Demon-Slaying Platform of Longhu Mountain, I challenged Li Chungan’s sword Dao, exchanging one sword Dao for one arm. We were enemies, but also half-brothers in understanding. My second apprentice, the stable hand at your Beiliang Mansion, Huang Zhentu, who traveled with you, was vastly different from my first apprentice in terms of talent—like comparing an ironworker to a royal uncle of Xishu, worlds apart. Yet I valued Huang Zhentu more, for his sword was closer to the Dao. In truth, my first apprentice guarded the nation’s borders with his sword, yet even at death, he never delivered a worthy strike. But my second apprentice, whom you named Sword Nine, his ninth sword moved me deeply.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “Senior, did Old Huang hide six swords, all meant to be your drinking companions?”
The old man, in high spirits, nodded and laughed. “That fool had no identity to bind him, so his sword cultivation was purely for emotion. The early bird catches the worm, and he ended up more accomplished than his senior brother. I visited Wudi City twice. The first time, he wanted the world to know his master’s name. The second time, he wanted me, his master, to know that taking him as an apprentice was no shame.”
Xu Fengnian said, “He cultivated the sword, and repaid kindness.”
The old man laughed. “In my lifetime, I made three bets with Huang Longshi. He bet that the Beiliang Princess would reach the Sword Immortal realm in the palace battle. He bet that Li Chungan, imprisoned in the Listening Tide Pavilion, would return to the Earth Immortal realm. The third was about Wen Hua—I bet that Wen Hua would never take up the sword. I finally won one at the last moment, or I’d have earned the nickname ‘Sui Buseng’ too.”
Without looking at Xu Fengnian, the old man spoke plainly. “Don’t waste time trying to figure out who this old man named Sui really is—Huang Longshi himself doesn’t know my true name. It’s strange, really. I’ve made several exchanges with Huang Longshi, yet I still can’t fathom what he truly desires. Back during the Black Robe Incident in the capital, the Zhao family sought to extinguish the Xu lineage. Yuan Benxi and the old emperor of Zhao were the masterminds, while Yang Taishui was a half-accomplice. Huang Longshi bet that your mother, Wu Su, would enter the Sword Immortal realm, and he exchanged a famous sword for my intervention, just in case, to protect the two of you. I’m revealing these secrets not to urge you to seek revenge against Huang Longshi. That old man has long deserved death, always fanning the flames. But I don’t wish for him to die at the hands of petty villains.”
The old man sighed deeply. “In my view, all martial techniques in the world are either practical or beautiful. Li Dangxin suspending the Yellow River above the Moral Sect’s head belongs to the beautiful category. It can’t be helped—he is, after all, one of the Three Teachings. The Wu Clan’s Su Wang and his star-like formations are also beautiful but impractical. To explain further, if you face ten thousand enemies and strike a technique that kills three hundred and injures six hundred, it’s not as good as a single sword strike that slays five hundred outright. Li Chungan’s Two Sleeves of Green Snakes are somewhat different—they are both beautiful and practical. When I challenged Li Chungan in sword combat, my original intent wasn’t to challenge the Two Sleeves of Green Snakes, but rather the sword that opens the Heavenly Gate. But at that time, Li Chungan’s State of Mind was damaged, and he couldn’t open the Heavenly Gate. Yet his sword techniques remained at their peak. Even though we both lost an arm in that exchange, I still left satisfied, having come and gone with joy. There was no true enmity.”
Xu Fengnian asked curiously, “Then why does Wang Xianzhi call himself the second under heaven?”
The old man laughed heartily. “A humble claim. Even if it were Lüzu reincarnated, Longhu’s Qi Xuanzhen or Wudang’s Hong Xixiang, they would only be evenly matched. Only the Lüzu of eight hundred years ago, who passed through the Heavenly Gate and returned, would have a seven-in-ten chance of victory.”
Xu Fengnian remained silent.
The old man spoke softly, “The Jianghu we live in doesn’t go backward—it only rises higher.”
With a gentle wave of his hand, the Spring and Autumn Sword, which had been thrown beyond the city walls by Xu Fengnian and later seized into the imperial palace, vanished from the palace and appeared in the old man’s hand in an instant. “I never settled the score with Li Chungan, and it has always been a regret. Since you now possess the essence of Li Chungan’s two swords, especially the sword that opens the Heavenly Gate, I will teach you one sword technique. When you settle the score in the future and pour wine at Li Chungan’s grave, tell him about it. I will take only the scabbard. You keep the sword for me. I must go to Wudi City. When the Spring and Autumn Sword returns to its sheath, that will be when I teach you that sword.”
The old man tossed the scabbard into the air and rode the sword, departing the capital.
His laughter echoed across Tai’an City.
“Three million sword immortals in the heavens—before me, they all must bow.”
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