Chapter 531: Northward

The crowd had long since dispersed, leaving only Xu Fengnian and the bamboo steamer that had lost its precious contents. The Daoist priest who had just left was like one of the three Qilin Sages manifested by the phrase “One Breath Manifests Three Pure Ones.” No matter which of them appeared before you, each could be considered the national master of the enemy nation, Beimang. Xu Fengnian understood perfectly what it meant to hand over that copper coin. He stood there, lost in thought, his mind echoing with those four sentences. Wudang Mountain was his blessed land, without a doubt. If it hadn’t been for the great Huangting cultivation technique passed down by the late sect leader Wang Chonglou, he wouldn’t have been able to descend from those two rivers of the martial world and survive. Now, with Li Yufu guarding the Great Lotus Peak, Wudang was showing signs of revival.

Yet after his journey of spiritual wandering, he had told Li Yufu about the child he had seen by the riverbank during his astral projection. At this moment, Li Yufu had not yet returned to the mountain, and Xu Fengnian didn’t know whether he had found that child or not.

On the snowy summit of Guniu Ridge, Xuan Jingcheng had warned him not to allow Huangman’er to reach the Heaven-Illuminating Realm. Given Xu Fengnian’s temperament, it wasn’t just the Heaven-Illuminating Realm he feared—Huangman’er wasn’t even allowed to approach the Finger-Arrow Realm, which was just one step below. Thus, he had directly told Xu Longxiang: absolutely no entry into the Finger-Arrow Realm, which stood merely one level below the Heaven-Illuminating. As for the so-called “sliver of hope” mentioned by the Qilin Sage, the Heavenly Mechanism was unfathomable, and Xu Fengnian had no idea what it meant.

As for matters concerning himself—being a terrestrial immortal or facing Wang Xianzhi—Xu Fengnian didn’t dwell on them deeply. Yuan Qingshan’s final prophecy was that Li Yufu would, after aiding someone’s ascension to immortality, slay all the celestial beings who sat in clouds and fished from the heavens, thus sealing the Heavenly Gate for cultivators of the mortal world. From then on, immortals would remain immortals, and the mortal world would remain the mortal world. Whether they hated or loved each other, they would forever be distant and unreachable. Xu Fengnian found this even less appealing. As long as the ox-riding Daoist (Wudang’s Li Yufu) could successfully reincarnate and ascend before that Heavenly Gate was sealed, everything would be fine.

Family matters, state affairs, and the affairs of the world—since he was Xu Xiao’s legitimate eldest son and bore the Xu surname, these three matters had long since become an inseparable tangle. For other feudal lords’ heirs, hereditary succession was the limit, at most being demoted from a princely title to a lesser princely rank. But to the north of Beiliang, a hundred thousand Beimang cavalry with drawn bows were watching like tigers and dragons, waiting for their chance.

Xu Yanbing spoke softly, “At such close range, if Yuan Qingshan had truly wanted to kill the young master, I might not have been able to stop him.”

Xu Fengnian smiled, “That’s why I let Uncle Xu go buy this steamer of dumplings, to show the Qilin Sage our sincerity.”

Xu Yanbing felt a slight regret. If not for having to protect the young master, he would have seized this rare opportunity to test his skills against the undoubtedly terrestrial immortal Beimang national master.

Suddenly, Xu Fengnian stood up, his face flashing between purple and gold hues, radiant like morning glow. With a bitter expression, he said, “We’ve wasted quite a bit of time. Trouble you, Uncle Xu, to send me on my way to Daoma Pass.”

Xu Yanbing also sensed the young master’s unusual state. He smiled slightly, grabbed Xu Fengnian by the collar, gave a sharp shout, and hurled him forcefully toward the city wall of Daoma Pass.

Atop the city wall of Daoma Pass, Shiqianga, the deputy general of Lingzhou, and Liguiweng, the vice-governor, exchanged furtive glances. Both saw the same unease in each other’s eyes. This only made Shiqianga, known for his bold and open nature, even more anxious. After all, Liguiweng was famous in Lingzhou as a “clay Buddha”—rarely showing any signs of panic. Both were trusted aides of the great general. Shiqianga had nearly died in the Battle of Jinghe, and it was Xu Xiao who had pulled him from a pile of corpses, staying with him day and night for two days and nights until he finally returned from the brink of death. Shiqianga always said he owed the great general his life. Later, when his son Shili Ping, the second-in-command of the Zhugue Battalion, died in battle, Shiqianga never expressed the slightest regret.

Liguiweng came from a powerful local family in Beiliang, part of the famous “Luoyang Li” clan. For centuries, regardless of peace or war, the family had always sent descendants to the ancient city of Luoyang to pay respects at their ancestral shrine. After Xu Xiao was enfeoffed to Beiliang, the Li family was the first to pledge allegiance to the Xu clan. Liguiweng was skilled in rhetoric and was highly regarded by Li Yishan, the chief strategist of the Tingchao Pavilion. However, the Li family had once made a foolish mistake that severed their ties with Li Yishan.

Shiqianga and Liguiweng’s anxiety gradually spread to Zhou Xian and Han Tao. If something unexpected happened and affected the grand military review in Beiliang, as a deputy commander and a minor officer respectively, they would bear the immense consequences. Shiqianga paced back and forth atop the city wall like an ant on a hot pan, repeatedly pounding his right fist into his left palm. Liguiweng was slightly calmer, but even he stood on tiptoe, straining to look down the distant road.

Zhou Ziran, the top young noble of Daoma Pass, exchanged a glance with his father. Zhou Xian quietly approached his son’s side. In a low voice, Zhou Ziran asked whether they should dispatch scouts to investigate the situation. His father shot him a stern glare in response. Zhou Ziran quickly realized the mistake—such secret military intelligence was not for Daoma Pass to meddle in recklessly. In the bureaucracy, inaction might mean no achievements, but at worst, it only meant no promotion. However, taking unnecessary action could easily cost one’s official position.

Suddenly, the city wall trembled violently. Liguiweng nearly stumbled and fell. Rubbing his eyes, he thought he had seen something crash into the wall—was it a boulder launched by a siege ram?

Shiqianga quickly strode to the edge of the wall, looked down, and widened his eyes in shock.

A man was “embedded” into the wall—and the fellow seemed to still be alive!

Down in the crater, Xu Fengnian exhaled a long stream of purple-gold mist, feeling much better. He climbed out of the hole in the wall, grabbed the stone with one hand, and lightly floated onto the city wall.

Zhou Xian and Han Tao, mistaking him for an unknown assassin, immediately drew their swords and prepared to subdue him. Elite soldiers below also rushed onto the city wall. However, to their surprise, the highest-ranking officers—Shiqianga and Liguiweng—immediately knelt down and shouted, “Your Highness!”

Liguiweng, in particular, performed the sleeve-bowing gesture with great skill—maintaining the elegance of flowing movements while conveying deep reverence. For a civil official to reach such a level of mastery, one must be at least of the fifth rank or higher. Zhou Xian and Han Tao were far behind in comparison. Upon hearing the title “Prince,” they were so frightened their legs nearly gave out, and they hastily knelt down, loudly declaring their official positions with all their might, each trying to outshout the other.

Liguiweng, whose ears were ringing from the noise, couldn’t help but feel a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Xu Fengnian smiled and told everyone to rise. His gaze fell on Zhou Ziran. Back then, when he had entered Daoma Pass wearing a disguise, this young master hadn’t recognized him. As for Zhao Yousong and the chubby boy who had “recognized” him, they had only done so vaguely based on his sword and voice.

After a few polite greetings with Shiqianga and Liguiweng, as Xu Fengnian was descending from the city wall, Zhou Xian deliberately brought his son along, hoping to make a good impression on the prince. He didn’t dare hope for a conversation—just a vague familiarity would suffice. To his astonishment, the prince suddenly turned around and spoke, “Zhou Ziran, last year when I traveled in and out of Beimang, I passed through Daoma Pass. I heard you lead troops well. I’ll mention it to Huangfu Ping and have you serve as his personal guard. How does that sound?”

In the Yulong Gang, Zhou Ziran was a noble son of a military family, but before the prince—the fierce dragon of Beiliang—he was nothing more than a shrimp or crab. Shocked and stunned, he lost his usual smoothness. Fortunately, his father Zhou Xian, experienced in the ups and downs of officialdom, still had some composure. He quickly pulled his son down to kneel and express gratitude.

Who in the world didn’t know about the prestigious “standard-bearer” faction in Beiliang, whose future achievements were often extraordinary? Generals like Qi Dangguo, the adopted son of the great general, and Lin Quan, the richest man in Qingzhou, had once been standard-bearers in the Beiliang cavalry. Serving as a personal guard to a high-ranking official was similarly prestigious. Huangfu Ping was rising rapidly in Youzhou. If Zhou Ziran became his trusted aide, Zhou Xian would no longer worry about his son’s future.

Xu Fengnian had Zhou Ziran follow him, and Zhou walked as if treading on thin ice. Xu Fengnian chuckled and asked, “Is there a gang called Yulong Gang in Daoma Pass that frequently passes through here?”

Zhou Ziran’s heart tightened. Drawing on his sharp memory and his secret attentiveness, he nodded solemnly and replied, “Your Highness, if I recall correctly, the Yulong Gang has passed through six times. The last time they left was around the beginning of the light snow season, and they returned two days after the minor cold.”

Xu Fengnian merely nodded without comment, which made Zhou Ziran even more anxious. Could it be that the Yulong Gang had ties with Beimang spies? After his humiliating defeat in his own territory last time, he had turned a blind eye to many expensive goods passing through Daoma Pass at the Yulong Gang’s request. In this era, information was often blocked. Even urgent military dispatches carried at the speed of five hundred li per day could disappear without a trace, let alone other rumors.

Xu Fengnian had completely broken relations with General Zhong Hongwu of Longqing Commandery in Lingzhou. The matter was huge and widely known. However, the location—Yulong Gang, an obscure gang of nameless soldiers—was something few in Youzhou knew about. The new leader, Liu Niron, had never openly claimed the prince’s support afterward, and no one in Longqing dared to gossip about it. Previously, mocking the prince was harmless, but now that even the old general Zhong had been dealt with harshly, who would dare risk their lives?

Fortunately, the prince didn’t keep the Zhou family in suspense for long. Before leaving the pass, he said to the two local officials, “I have a friend in the Yulong Gang. I hope you two officers will take good care of him in the future.”

With the prince’s words, Zhou Xian and Han Tao naturally pledged their lives in service.

Shiqianga, the deputy general of Youzhou, would accompany him beyond the pass, while Liguiweng would remain behind. When the prince mentioned that he would give Liguiweng a rare flower painting by a Southern Tang emperor, Liguiweng’s face broke into a wide smile. The painting was valuable in itself, but receiving it directly from the prince would give him great confidence in the Youzhou bureaucracy. While mentioning the gift, the prince casually brought up Hong Shandong, the governor of Yan Zhi Commandery, saying that he had heard of his good reputation.

Watching the three riders disappear into the distance, Liguiweng stroked his beard in thought. He had no particular feelings for or against Hong Shandong. The man was a favored student of the governor of Liangzhou and was himself a commandery governor. Liguiweng couldn’t really interfere. However, since the prince had taken notice, Liguiweng didn’t mind doing a bit of extra favor. Hong had long wanted to serve as the Director of Education in Youzhou to transition from a local official to a central one, but had been blocked by the governor of Youzhou for years. Although Liguiweng was an assistant to the governor, he was still a high-ranking official known as the “lesser governor.” He had good relations with several high-ranking officials in Youzhou. If he truly decided to support Hong’s promotion, it was entirely possible. Offending the governor of Youzhou or pleasing the prince—Liguiweng, a loyal servant of the Xu family, didn’t need to think twice.

Inside the pass, a young woman was being pulled quickly toward the Daoma Pass by a child. The boy, with clear eyes and delicate brows, kept muttering, “Mother, if we don’t hurry, Master Xu will have already left the pass.”

Among the women of Yan Zhi, this young mother stood out. She pursed her lips and nodded slightly, telling herself that she only wanted to say one thing to the young master: she would repay the two hundred taels of silver she owed him sooner, especially now that she had accepted a job from the Jinlu Weaving Bureau and would become a weaver.

But the villagers had always said that although Lingzhou was prosperous, it was also full of arrogant young nobles—too many to count. Especially the Beiliang prince, who was known for his lustful nature. He was currently serving as the general of Lingzhou. If she were to be noticed by any of them, what would become of her, a woman alone and far from home? Would she die? What would become of You Song? She didn’t even know how the Jinlu Weaving Bureau had heard of her skills. If it hadn’t been for the old and kind-faced official from the bureau, she, a widow for many years, would have refused outright.

To a simple country girl, what was wealth compared to the safety and peace of mother and child?

In the end, mother and child failed to see Master Xu at the quiet city gate. Zhao Yousong looked disappointed, sulking on the ground. Whether it was because he blamed his mother for walking too slowly or himself for not running faster, he didn’t know.

The mother bent down and gently stroked her child’s head, softly apologizing, “Yousong, it’s my fault.”

The child, after sulking, couldn’t bear to see his mother feel guilty and gave her a bright smile.

She whispered softly, “I’ve made up my mind. In a few days, I’ll go to the weaving bureau in Lingzhou. That way, I can repay that young master’s silver sooner. I’ll ask someone to take care of the farmland, and you can study in peace at the school.”

Zhao Yousong frowned, not knowing what to say. He wanted to tell his mother he didn’t want her to leave, but he knew better than anyone how stubborn she could be. Over the years, so many aunts and uncles had tried to persuade her to remarry, but she had never agreed. In truth, he wanted to gather his courage and tell her, “If you meet someone you like, then just marry him. I don’t mind, as long as you’re happy.”

Zhao Yousong stood up and looked toward the city wall, murmuring, “Mother, do you know where Master Xu is going beyond the pass?”

Xu Qing shook her head without speaking.

Three riders left the pass without any cavalry escort. But Shiqianga was not worried. With Xu Yanbing, the great general’s retainer, by his side, and with countless scouts and patrols along the route to the Hulukou Pass, there shouldn’t be any mishaps. Besides, everyone said the prince had killed the Beimang Northern Court King and the leader of the Rouran cavalry. Who would dare cause trouble here?

For some unknown reason, Xu Fengnian suddenly stopped his horse, turned his head southward, and gazed toward Daoma Pass. In the distance, it was just a black dot. He lifted his head, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt the gentle spring sunlight. There was no wind, no snow, and the world was quiet and peaceful.

Before heading to Beimang, he had shared a drink with Xu Xiao on Qingliang Hill. Drunk, he had said disrespectfully, “If you’re going to grow old, then grow old. But don’t sneak off and die on me.”

At the time, Xu Xiao had readily agreed, saying he hadn’t even held his grandson yet, so he wouldn’t dare die. He even boasted that he didn’t want to die, and even the King of Hell would be too afraid to take his life.

But Xu Fengnian had seen with his own eyes how Xu Xiao had aged day by day, his frailty worsening. So much so that when father and son climbed the mountain together, they had to stop and rest frequently.

Before becoming a father, most young men find it hard to imagine how old their fathers can become—how very old.

Xu Fengnian opened his eyes and continued riding north. After all, ahead of him, nearly ten thousand Beiliang cavalry were waiting for him alone.

There was one thing Xu Fengnian had never told anyone—not even Xu Xiao.

If one day Beiliang were overrun by Beimang’s cavalry, he would have already died on the battlefield, north of his father’s tomb.