The Jiujiu Pavilion was closed for business. Auntie Hong lived in a three-courtyard house not far away. Her body constitution was naturally more Yin, and she was sensitive to the cold. She and a young woman sat cross-legged on the heated brick bed. The older woman cracked melon seeds while chattering away, while the younger woman listened quietly, showing no sign of impatience. After finishing their household chores and farm work, ordinary village women with some skill often liked to pass time by picking up a delicate pair of scissors. After all, they couldn’t just spend every night engaged in vulgar baby-making with their husbands, especially since they couldn’t afford to raise too many children. Auntie Hong was a widow, somewhat aged but still charming. No one dared to knock on a widow’s door and stir up trouble. In her spare time, she only enjoyed paper-cutting. Her hands were deft and her heart was clever. Whenever neighbors had happy occasions, they would come to her for intricate paper-cut patterns like the auspicious “Xi” characters and decorative door hangers. The windows beside the brick bed were covered with Auntie Hong’s exquisite paper art, fulfilling the old saying of “joy at first glance upon opening the window.” On rainy days, she would even hang a “Sao Qing Niang” doll under the eaves, which was said to be very effective.
Auntie Hong cracked melon seeds while occasionally reaching over to guide the young woman’s hand with the scissors. However, the girl, although strikingly beautiful, was clumsy with the scissors, prompting a few kind-hearted chuckles from Auntie Hong. Auntie Hong never stopped talking, jumping from one topic to another, but always circling back to that particular family.
“These two women should blame Xu Quezi.”
“The child should blame his parents too.”
“One couldn’t let go of Xu Xiao, and the other couldn’t let go of those fallen brothers. In the end, it’s their own children who suffer.”
“They should also blame those self-righteous loyalists. Xu Xiao might not be a gentleman full of moral righteousness, but his actions were open and honest. How could those fake gentlemen ever compare to him? When has Xu Xiao ever wronged anyone he was supposed to protect?”
“Zhao Zhi is narrow-minded. She couldn’t stand that Wu Su was more outstanding than her, and she couldn’t stand that Xu Xiao was more manly than her own husband. Anyone who knows her is doomed to misfortune!”
The young woman was cutting a magpie perched on plum blossoms. The result was awkward and comical, and she blushed with embarrassment. Auntie Hong laughed and comforted her, saying, “Not bad at all. It’s your first time holding scissors.”
The young woman put down the red paper and sighed.
Auntie Hong gazed at the window lattice, lost in thought.
The stalemate at Xilei Wall continued. Fourteen former Beiliang officers in the capital, including Ma Ling, crashed themselves to death at the palace gate, silencing the rumors that General Xu Xiao would divide the land with the Western Chu. Clad in white, beating the war drum, one battle decided the fate of the world. That year, although the Eight Kingdoms of Spring still had the Western Shu and Southern Tang clinging to survival, they were already no match for the unstoppable cavalry of the Xu and Gu families of Lianyang. When Xu’s iron cavalry was only three hundred miles away from the Western Chu capital, Xu Xiao received four urgent imperial edicts in one day, summoning him to the capital for reward. But what awaited this hero was the infamous “White Robe Incident” in the capital.
This caused the Western Chu to resist for three years without falling. At that time, Prince Zhao Yi, who had not yet been granted the title of Guangling King, wanted to seize the opportunity for great military glory. But he ended up losing two battles, suffering heavy losses, and weakening his forces. Eventually, Xu Xiao was ordered to lead the southern campaign again, finally breaching the mighty divine phoenix city of Shenhuang, the most formidable city under heaven. During those three years, the young Xu Fengnian, as a hostage, was “confined” in Dantong Pass, seven hundred miles south of the Taian City. There were six hundred soldiers stationed inside the pass, and over ten thousand cavalry outside, all aimed at the mother and son duo—the swordswoman and the young boy.
The young woman suddenly asked, “Auntie Hong, don’t you regret meeting Uncle Xun Ping?”
The woman shook her head and smiled. “Chen Yu, when you truly fall in love with someone, you won’t ask such silly questions anymore.”
Chen Yu also shook her head. “Pity I can’t meet someone like that.”
Auntie Hong suddenly thought of something, her face darkened. “Serves Yang the bald monk right for falling from his cultivation realm. Good riddance. When will Yuan Benxi and Liu Haoshi finally be killed? That would be a great relief to everyone.”
Chen Yu asked, “Who can kill them?”
Auntie Hong laughed. “Certainly not a woman like me. My little scissors are only good for cutting paper.”
Chen Yu picked up the magpie and plum blossom paper-cut, lifting it above her head. Light filtered through the gaps, casting a glow on her face capable of toppling nations. Even Auntie Hong, who had once been a beauty that could shame the moon and flowers, felt a twinge of envy and admiration. Chen Yu, meaning “sinking fish,” was indeed a name full of foresight.
Auntie Hong asked, “You’re not afraid of failing to enter the Taian Palace and instead ending up in the barren north of Beiliang, suffering and enduring hardship?”
Chen Yu asked directly, “Auntie, are you talking about my arranged marriage to the heir of Beiliang?”
Auntie Hong nodded.
Chen Yu smiled calmly. “Aren’t they all the same?”
Auntie Hong smiled and waved her little scissors. “Come, I’ll teach you how to cut fighting roosters.”
Chen Yu hesitated. Auntie Hong explained with a smile, “Fighting roosters. The homophone means ‘all good fortune,’ symbolizing universal auspiciousness.”
※※※
Everyone gazed in awe at the legendary princess of the fallen Western Chu. Even the older officials in the capital couldn’t help but admire her beauty. No one had ever seen such a dazzling woman before. Perhaps Chen Yu, who ranked high on the The Rouge Ranking, could rival her in beauty, but Chen Yu was merely a woman skilled with brush and needle—she would never arrive riding a sword.
The woman, originally named Jiang Si but cruelly renamed Jiang Ni by a bastard, uttered five words softly: “Imperial Edict of Heaven.”
Neither sword nor body moved, but the Great Liang Dragon Sparrow sword had already drawn blood.
Two sword auras, imperial yellow and noble purple, coiled around the ancient blade, speeding toward the conspicuous white Python Robe figure on the square.
Just before the sword flew, Yuan Tingshan, who had recently ascended the Dragon Gate and joined the imperial court, grinned maliciously at his future father-in-law, Gu Jiantang, and stretched out his hand. “General, lend me your sword!”
Without hesitation or unnecessary movement, Gu Jiantang’s Nan Hua sword leapt from its sheath like a green dragon emerging from water. Yuan Tingshan, a man of humble origins who had suddenly risen to wealth and power, harbored no sense of gratitude. He craved a stunning feat in Taian City, and had nearly gone mad with ambition these days. If not now, when? While noble families enjoyed their inherited privileges, he would seize fortune through peril. Whoever stood in his way would die! As Yuan Tingshan gripped the Nan Hua sword, his hair flew wildly, as if possessed by a celestial being or driven mad by martial fervor. The moment he held the blade, he sensed not only the sword but also a surge of mighty energy hidden within it from the general. How could Yuan Tingshan disappoint the man known as the best swordsman in the world?
Yuan Tingshan gripped the sword with both hands, his eyes bloodshot, roaring as he swung the blade toward the descending flying sword.
On the city wall, Cao Qingyi, locked in battle with Gu Jiantang and Zhao Danping, remained calm. He said quietly, “One gift from Western Chu to Beiliang.”
This was the true thunderclap on a clear day.
The infamous Yuan Tingshan swung his blade, striking the tip of the Great Liang Dragon Sparrow sword with perfect timing. Yet the flying sword still sped forward, its blade unwavering.
The Nan Hua sword, one of the “Dual Talismans,” slid along the flying sword in a single breath.
The square beneath Yuan Tingshan cracked, sending shards of stone flying. The sound pierced the ears. Fortunately, the men behind this mad dog were all martial experts. Except for Lu Shengxiang and Lu Baijie, who calmly flicked their sleeves to scatter the flying debris, the others struggled to protect themselves in a most undignified manner.
Xu Fengnian took one step forward with his left foot and one step back with his right.
He raised both hands.
One hand severed a great river, the other shook Kunlun.
A single sword pierced both forces, its tip aimed directly at Xu Fengnian’s chest.
Xu Fengnian whispered, “Sword, come.”
Xuanjia, Qingmei, Zhuma, Chaoma, Taohua. Emi, Zhuque, Huangtong. Pifu, Jinlu, Tai’e.
Twelve clear sounds rang out.
Echoing through the imperial city.
The sword tip still did not deviate, now only a zhang from Xu Fengnian’s heart.
Winds howled and clouds roiled across the heavens.
Then a blinding crimson streak crashed down like a heavenly thunderbolt descending from the celestial realm, attempting to stand between the flying sword and Xu Fengnian.
This creature, clad in red robes and having reached the peak of the Tianxiang realm, planted one foot on the sword’s tip.
It had six arms.
It wore a face of compassion, but its joyous gaze was fixed solely on Xu Fengnian.
Since the immortal Qixuanzhen beheaded the demon on the Lotus Platform over sixty years ago, this might be the first time in human history that a true Mara had appeared before mortal eyes.
The Mara lifted its foot, the flying sword flipped before it, and then soared into the air.
Jiang Ni remained expressionless, extending one finger and flicking it lightly.
Cao Changqing said calmly, “Second gift from Western Chu to Liyang.”
The flying sword, having failed to kill the heir of Beiliang, still seemed to possess boundless energy. It flew higher than the red-robed Mara and the white Python Robe man, heading toward the Liyang Emperor standing on the steps. The sword aura was like a celestial river pouring stars down to the mortal world.
The Liyang Emperor clenched his fist and did not retreat a single step.
Chen Zhibao reached out and grasped the Mei Zi Jiu.
He pressed it downward.
The Mei Zi Jiu vanished instantly.
Commanding the earth, summoning ten thousand hidden soldiers.
Ten steps from the Liyang Emperor, the Mei Zi Jiu burst from the ground, colliding with the flying sword’s tip.
A moment of suspension.
Though there was no sound, the officials and generals who did not understand martial arts instinctively covered their ears and crouched to the ground. Some weaker scholars even bled from their seven orifices.
Lu Shengxiang and Tangxi Sword Immortal Lu Baijie leapt into the air, shielding the crowd from the chaotic, flood-like invisible energy emanating from the clashing swords.
The Mei Zi Jiu finally rebounded into Chen Zhibao’s hand.
Standing atop the sword sheath, Jiang Ni coldly snorted, and the flying sword vanished into its sheath in an instant.
Almost simultaneously, Xu Fengnian, whose lips were increasingly stained with blood, seized the Mara’s arm and hurled it toward the palace wall beside the The burly old man standing near Zhao Danping.
The red robes billowed like a giant crimson bat flying toward Zhao Danping.
One of the two guardians of the palace, whose cultivation realm surpassed even the Zhi Xuan realm of Han Diaosi.
Liu Haoshi.
After throwing the Mara, Xu Fengnian leapt forward nearly ten zhang, soaring toward Yuan Tingshan.
On the Jiangnan road, he had once tried to kill Xu Zhihu.
Xu Fengnian raised his arm, fingers like hooks, and said gravely, “Sword, come again!”
Xuanlei, Tai’e, Taohua, Jinlu, Huangtong.
Five swords with the sharpest auras, crashing down in unison.
An immortal strokes the crown of the mountain!
Yuan Tingshan’s face changed drastically. The Nan Hua sword slashed a dazzling array of blade arcs while he stepped back. His palm split open, but he managed to block the five sword strikes. After retreating three steps, he rolled sideways, blood spraying from his back as a hidden and vicious flying sword sliced through his long-coveted official robe. After barely escaping the deadly zone, five more swords rained down like cold water. Yuan Tingshan’s face twisted with fury. He had barely taken a few steps toward glory—how could he die here like this! Gritting his teeth, he raised the Nan Hua sword, striking three swords away with one mighty stroke. He dodged another blade that grazed his cheek, using the rebound force from the sword clash to press himself against his chest just before the last sword pierced his heart. Already unsteady, Yuan Tingshan staggered, nearly falling. But he finally steadied himself, touched the blood on his chest, and laughed maniacally, “Try again if you dare!”
The officials and generals on the square watched in astonishment. Truly a mad dog unafraid of death!
Then, what happened next left nearly everyone staring in disbelief. Xu Fengnian walked forward slowly, as if strolling in a garden, yet Yuan Tingshan, inexplicably targeted by this heir of Beiliang, writhed like a fish out of water, flailing desperately.
Less than five zhang away.
Yuan Tingshan bled profusely.
Everyone knew that the sword god Deng Tai’a kept twelve swords in a small box, but no one knew there was another person in the world who could control so many swords.
Now only three zhang away.
Yuan Tingshan dodged three deadly strikes, allowing two swords to pierce his body, and swung his blade.
The officials on the square, holding their breath, secretly hoped this mad dog would finally kill the cunning heir of Beiliang!
But what happened next left most of them utterly baffled. Only Lu Shengxiang and Lu Baijie shook their heads slightly, both regretful and admiring.
Yuan Tingshan retracted his blade at the last moment, deviating from its path.
Lu Shengxiang regretted that Yuan Tingshan, despite his ambition, had chosen to preserve his life rather than make the ultimate sacrifice.
Lu Baijie was impressed by Xu Fengnian’s audacity. He could have won more easily, but he chose to gamble—betting that Yuan Tingshan would fear death more than he did. This kind of confrontation would leave a psychological scar on Yuan Tingshan that would never fade.
Xu Fengnian struck Yuan Tingshan’s chest with his palm as the latter’s momentum waned. His feet moved in a continuous rhythm. He grabbed Yuan Tingshan’s foot mid-air, turned, and slammed him into the ground.
A crater formed.
Yuan Tingshan was clearly on the brink of death.
Gu Jiantang, who had been watching with narrowed eyes, finally took a step forward.
If Yuan Tingshan was to die in the capital, he would have to go through Gu Jiantang first.
A breeze stirred. The white-haired young man standing quietly on the square, clad in a long robe with wide sleeves, let the wind ripple his clothes like waves.
Just like his turbulent and uncertain fate.
The eldest son of the Xu family, once considered hopeless by all, had finally shed his tattered shell.
He now exuded a peerless charisma, indescribable yet unmistakable.
Xu Fengnian looked into the crater at Yuan Tingshan and grinned. “You? Not even worth me drawing my sword. Consider yourself lucky today, with such a good father-in-law. Next time, I’ll skin you alive with my own hands.”
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