Gu Jiantang cast a glance at Yuan Tingshan, who lay motionless in the pit, still tightly gripping the Nan Hua blade in his hand. Gu Jiantang did not believe that the heir of Beiliang had the audacity to kill an official in the capital under the Emperor’s watchful eyes. Punishing Yuan Tingshan, an old enemy, with slightly excessive force, losing control, would not provoke serious consequences from the imperial court. After all, the young man’s reckless behavior had long wearied the ears of Tai’an City. Moreover, his infamous act of standing alone on the imperial avenue to block ten thousand scholars and even spitting on them had foreshadowed today’s chaos. It was strange, yet not entirely unexpected. After concealing his abilities for over twenty years, heavenly justice rewards diligence—there were great benefits indeed. If a prince renowned for virtue had acted this way, he would have already been stripped of his hereditary titles.
What truly intrigued Gu Jiantang were only two matters: how Deng Tai’e’s twelve flying swords had ended up in Xu Fengnian’s hands, and the origin of that crimson-robed Yin entity that had knocked Liu Haoshi off the city wall. Ordinary Yin creatures could never enter the imperial palace, where the aura of the dragon and yellow permeated the air. Since the eradication of the Demon Sect at the Zhanmo Platform, no Tianmo had been seen in the world. In a moment of Dazed (huanhu—daze), Gu Jiantang, who had cultivated the art of composure for eighteen years as Minister of War, suddenly erupted in fury. That Xu family brat had gone back on his word, playing a game of feigned retreat to entrap him. Without moving, merely by willpower, a fully matured sword spirit shot straight toward Yuan Tingshan’s head. This sent Gu Jiantang into indescribable shock and rage. Under the Emperor’s nose, how dare this foreign prince, relying on the Xu family’s old debts owed by the Zhao clan, take advantage of the moment to seize old scores? Gu could turn a blind eye, letting him run wild. But now, how dare he openly humiliate Gu Jiantang in front of all the ministers and aristocrats of Liyang? Does he really think Gu is a stray dog that everyone can beat?
Gu Jiantang swept away the flying sword, Taohua, with a single sleeve, ready to raise his hand and reclaim the Nan Hua blade to discipline this reckless Beiliang savage, when he caught a fleeting smirk on Xu Fengnian’s lips. Gu Jiantang, hardened through decades of political storms and impervious to the eight worldly winds, withdrew his killing intent in an instant and spoke calmly: “Yuan Tingshan drew his blade to block the sword—this disrespect to Beiliang is indeed his fault, and this punishment is only just. But if you intend to kill Yuan Tingshan, whether today or next time, Gu will draw his blade against you once.”
One generation’s grudges end with that generation. This was the pride reserved for the few pillars of the imperial court. If Gu Jiantang were to strike against a younger generation like Xu Fengnian today, he would surely be condemned by the world. As the greatest swordsman in the realm, defeating him would bring no honor, and he could not seriously injure him either. Such constraints would only fuel the inevitable rise of the Beiliang heir’s reputation. Though Gu Jiantang was always generous with praise and rewards for his loyal subordinates in the Ministry of War, this eldest son of the Butcher of Men was someone he would not even deign to glance at under normal circumstances.
Xu Fengnian shook out his dragon-embroidered sleeve, returning the twelve flying swords into their sheaths, then slowly slid both hands into his sleeves—a gesture full of commoner-like insolence, exactly like Xu Xiao. Truly, an unworthy father begets an unworthy son.
Xu Fengnian smiled lightly, “Master Gu, your ability to strike the Buddhist Saint’s Thunder-in-an-Inch is truly eye-opening. I look forward to experiencing it myself in the future.”
“Master Gu”—a deliberately provocative title, stirring the wrong pot.
Gu Jiantang did not feign magnanimity with a smile. Xu Xiao could place a Beiliang saber on his shoulder in front of both armies, slapping it around in insult, and Gu could endure it again and again. But facing Xu Fengnian, he had no such composure. This had nothing to do with tolerance. One of the Four Great Generals of the Spring and Autumn Periods, recently retired as Minister of War and granted the title of Grand Pillar of the State, Gu Jiantang was seeing Xu Fengnian’s eldest son for the first time with such serious intent: “Gu will be waiting for you to come to Liaodong to honor your ancestors. If you dare challenge me for the title of greatest swordsman, within Liaodong, I will be the only one to face you in open battle. No one else will dare resort to trickery.”
Xu Fengnian still stood with both hands in his sleeves, his posture lazily defiant.
Gu Jiantang waved a hand, and two eunuchs, accompanied by a group of Yu Lin Guards, carried Yuan Tingshan, drenched in blood, out of the pit. Glancing at the young mad dog, whose face was pale and eyes lifeless, blood dripping from the Nan Hua blade onto the square, Gu Jiantang said indifferently: “From today onward, the Nan Hua blade becomes your personal possession. Consider it a dowry from Beiliang.”
Yuan Tingshan slowly turned his head, gazing at the general who had replaced the King of Beiliang as the sole Grand Pillar of the Empire. A flicker of life ignited in his eyes, and he managed a twisted grin.
Gu Jiantang ignored him, lifting his gaze instead to Cao Changqing and the swordswoman atop the southern city wall. The court had long anticipated the Western Chu’s arrival for the ceremony. The Wujia Clan of the Sword Valley had come out precisely for this reason. Along the central axis of the eighteen gates, the Grand Master of Sword, the Hermit King, was stationed, along with no fewer than six or seven top experts who had long remained hidden in the capital. Not long ago, Gu Jiantang had volunteered to guard one of the gates against Cao Qingyi, but the Emperor had not allowed it. In truth, Cao Changqing’s appearance was not unexpected to Gu Jiantang and his circle. If the Western Chu wished to restore their kingdom, today was the ideal opportunity to reveal themselves. Just as Xu Fengnian had chosen this moment to settle old scores in the capital, it was a similar kind of “twisted logic.” Yet as a general who had commanded the Ministry of War for nearly two decades, Gu Jiantang had little hope for the Western Chu’s restoration. It might even serve as a perfect entry point for Zhang Julu to channel hidden unrest. With the purple-bearded, green-eyed Premier governing Liyang and reforming the bureaucracy, the resistance he faced was unimaginably immense. Though outwardly riding the Emperor’s favor with unstoppable momentum, the internal struggles and potential backlash were beyond even Gu Jiantang’s predictions.
Was this ceremony not a silent understanding shared among the inner circle? Cao Changqing prided himself on the means of a Confucian Saint. If Tai’an dared to openly oppose him, the Western Chu’s Go strategist, who had once vowed to sacrifice his life to overturn the heavens, would certainly risk death to ensure the princess’s escape by sword. With his saintly life, he would turn the capital’s ennoblement into a massacre costing hundreds of officials’ lives. If the Emperor had truly resolved to prevent Cao Changqing from entering Tai’an, he could have easily stationed Gu Jiantang with Nan Hua, Chen Zhibao with Meizi Wine, the Hermit King of the Sword Valley, and Liu Haoshi at the four city gates, each with elite forces. As long as they delayed Cao for just half a stick of incense, the other three could arrive to intercept and kill him. Yet to Gu Jiantang’s surprise, the Emperor, Zhang Julu, and that tongueless strategist who had never left Tai’an in his life had not chosen such a conservative arrangement. Instead, they allowed Cao Changqing to stride openly onto the city wall, declaring to the world: Western Chu rises again!
Gu Jiantang smiled. In the past, when Liyang and Western Chu stood in balance, no one could predict the outcome. But now, after twenty years of peace, Western Chu was attempting to swallow the rest of the Spring and Autumn kingdoms with half a nation’s strength. Snake swallowing an elephant? Gu Jiantang shook his head—Cao Changqing was still too much the idealistic scholar.
The Liyang Emperor stepped forward, declaring loudly: “In my lifetime, I hope to sit calmly with Master Cao in the Tai’an Palace, playing Go as friends.”
Cao Changqing smiled lightly, offering no reply.
Jiang Ni flew ten zhang from the city wall, causing another wave of unease among the officials below. She tugged at her lips, and the Daliang Longque soared into the clouds, vanishing from sight.
Two dimples forming on her cheeks—was she mocking his white hair?
Cao Changqing then turned and leapt away.
The Emperor ordered the Chief Eunuch Song Tanglu to step forward, whispered something, and then this powerful eunuch walked to the steps, facing the square and proclaiming solemnly: “The Beiliang heir Xu Fengnian is hereby granted permission to withdraw from court. His departure from the city requires no further report to the imperial court.”
Upon hearing the imperial decree, Xu Fengnian still kept his hands in his sleeves and turned to leave.
The Zhao family’s Son of Heaven, closely watching the Beiliang heir’s next move, narrowed his eyes slightly, but soon relaxed, his expression returning to normal. Almost simultaneously with Xu Fengnian’s turn, he strode toward the palace and crossed the threshold.
The Zhao and Xu families had now parted ways.
Most officials involuntarily swallowed hard when Xu Fengnian turned his back. Especially the Right Sacrificial Officer of the Imperial Academy, Jin Lanting, whose face turned pale and mournful, as if he had lost a parent.
After exiting the city gate, Xu Fengnian halted. The Yin entity, Dan Ying, resonated with his thoughts. Compared to the flying swords he no longer needed to control, it was no less formidable. After knocking the aged, hidden dragon from the palace off the city wall, it had experienced countless cycles of life and death in less than half an incense stick’s time. Its lower arms hung limp and broken, and its once-bright crimson robe was now tattered. As a Yin creature, engaging in a peak-level Tianxiang realm battle within Tai’an City, without the advantage of time, was a fatal disadvantage. Yet it had still managed to astonish the world. Liu Haoshi, whose Tianxiang cultivation spanned longer than most lifetimes, stood silently by the wall, showing no sign of anger, only eyes as dark and venomous as a snake, locked onto the Beiliang heir.
Xu Fengnian first smiled at the Yin entity, then approached Liu Haoshi, stopping ten zhang away, and said, “Don’t die too soon.”
The old man’s laugh was raspy, like an old donkey grinding a millstone. He raised a hand, flipping it once: “Back then, I couldn’t kill the big one. Killing a small one now is nothing.”
Xu Fengnian raised a finger and wiped his lips: “You old turtle hiding in the deep, I can’t do much about you for now. But the Southern Yang Liu clan, who revere you as ancestor, still has many promising talents eager to serve the empire. I’ll have someone go and root them out. Will you save them or not? I deliberately left this dirty work undone, just to come here and tell you in person.”
The old man remained cold and indifferent, sneering, “A clay Bodhisattva crossing the river can barely save himself. How dare you speak so boldly before me?”
Xu Fengnian laughed: “This beautiful land—we’ll see who walks it on a donkey.”
The white-haired youth walked slowly along the imperial avenue with both hands in his sleeves. The crimson-robed Yin entity gazed joyfully at his lonely back, while looking sorrowfully at Liu Haoshi, who struggled to suppress his killing intent.
After walking some distance, Xu Fengnian suddenly pulled his hands out of his sleeves without turning around and asked, “From now on, will you be called Xu Ying? How does that sound?”
The Yin entity stretched out an arm and gently tugged at his sleeve.
Man and Yin entity, like kindred souls, walked wordlessly hand in hand along the central axis of Tai’an City.
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