Longhu Mountain and Huishan Mountain stand facing each other. If not for the Martial Emperor’s single, slow sword stroke that claimed a portion of the glory, these two mountains would have captured the entire martial world’s attention in the past half year. First, the Purple Robe of Huishan slaughtered in all directions at the Spring God Lake, becoming the only woman in hundreds of years to claim the title of Martial Alliance Leader. However, shortly afterward, the Niulou Slope of Huishan was demolished and rebuilt. Looking up at the mountain peak, one could see the grand skeleton of the new structure, and those with sharp eyes could discern the hint of overstepping boundaries.
Then came the feat of Longhu Mountain’s father and son immortals ascending together into the sky, causing thunder to roll across the heavens. Soon after, it was announced that Zhang Yide, the eighty-second-generation eldest grandson and current Yansheng Duke of the Zhanglu School’s holy sage, had personally inscribed the plaque for Huishan’s archway. Some speculated that this was secretly arranged by the imperial court to warrant the Yansheng Duke’s involvement.
Unfortunately, Huishan remained sealed for half a year, preventing outsiders from witnessing the towering grandeur of the new building. After Qingming, Huishan finally reopened its gates, and martial artists with reputations and titles flocked to the mountain to catch a glimpse of the “appearance” of the world’s tallest tower. The spectacle at Huishan was unprecedented, with heroes and valiant figures gathering in great numbers, all praising and promoting the young woman. Visitors descending the mountain extolled the unnamed tower’s imperial aura: eighteen stories high, piercing the clouds, and on overcast days, reaching the summit felt like plunging into a sea of clouds. Standing atop the colossal rock of Niulou Slope, the tower boasted golden glazed tiles, vermilion pillars, and Hanbaiyu railings, enough to make many pavilions and halls in the Wuying Hall of the Taian City pale in comparison.
Thus, rumors spread like wildfire, especially two things that particularly stirred the martial world: one was a woman, a beautiful woman; the other was an expert, an unrivaled master. Huishan’s Purple Robe, Xuan Yuan Qing Feng, happened to possess both qualities. The numerous young talents below the mountain, using their imaginations, could easily envision a peerless beauty in a purple robe, possessing the realm of Heaven’s Phenomenon, standing at the highest point of the mortal world, looking down upon all under heaven. Moreover, she was still unmarried—could this mean they had a chance to become her devoted followers?
Men in the martial world, obsessed like those who had lost their minds, flocked to the mountain, and women with beauty and noble backgrounds were no exception, as they wanted to see for themselves whether this woman was truly as aloof and enchanting as the legends claimed. However, many only learned upon reaching the mountain that Huishan was divided into inner and outer sections, with the boundary marked by the archway below the Niulou Slope. To catch a glimpse of the Martial Alliance Leader was an even more distant dream. Nevertheless, Huishan, adjacent to the ancestral Daoist temple of Longhu Mountain and possessing its own enchanting scenery, attracted heroes from all directions, and no one felt disappointed.
On this gloomy evening filled with wind and rain, the mist on Huishan was thick. A group of people climbed the stone steps toward the mountain. After the catastrophe of the Heavenly Thunder at Niulou Slope, Xuan Yuan Qing Feng single-handedly salvaged the situation, elevating Huishan’s prestige to its peak. The Xuan Yuan clan’s attitude grew more arrogant; whether nobles or martial heroes, no one on the mountain ever went to greet or see off visitors, adopting an indifferent stance of “come if you like, leave if you wish.” This group, amidst the throngs of tourists, was not particularly conspicuous. There were five or six people, escorting a young nobleman dressed in brocade robes and jade ornaments, exuding an elegant and refined demeanor. Two individuals of higher status followed closely behind him—one a silent scholar and the other an “exquisite” elderly man. From their attire to their expressions, both exuded a refined and lofty aura. A short distance behind them walked three men with swords at their waists, their blades wrapped in silk to conceal them.
The young nobleman halted, glancing back at the vast river below the mountain, took a breath, and gestured with his hand. The elderly man, understanding his intent, quickly stepped back a few paces. The other attendants instinctively formed a fan-shaped formation to shield him. Only the scholar in his early thirties stepped forward, though still careful not to walk side by side with the nobleman. The young nobleman smiled slightly but did not insist on his joining him. He reached for a bright red fish-shaped jade pendant hanging at his waist and softly said, “Last year was the triennial imperial inspection, with Zhao Youling and Yin Maochun as the primary and deputy officials. Their reputations were so great that few noticed your role as the assisting chronicler. But this year marks the six-year grand evaluation, drawing the attention of the entire realm. Since Zhao Youling, as the Ministry of Personnel’s head, has gone to oversee the imperial examinations, positions will open in his absence. As the newly appointed Director of the Evaluation Bureau, you will likely be pushed forward by Chancellor Yin Chuxiang to bear the brunt of the criticism. Generally speaking, during the triennial inspections, officials chat and drink tea amicably, with few high-ranking officials falling from grace. But the grand evaluations, which include all lower-ranking officials from local prefects and below, are different. If fewer than seven or eight prefects are punished, it won’t be seen as sufficient. Do you understand the stakes?”
The scholar respectfully replied, “The road will reveal itself when one reaches the mountain.”
The dashing young nobleman, who casually mentioned Zhao Youling and Yin Maochun, glanced at the mountain path beneath his feet and nodded with a smile. “That phrase has a double meaning and fits the scene well. No wonder the Emperor holds you in such high regard.”
At around thirty years old, aside from those rare prodigies who achieved early success in the imperial examinations, most scholars, even those with profound knowledge, were still anxiously hoping to pass the metropolitan exams and qualify for the palace examinations. This scholar, bearing the obscure title of Director of the Evaluation Bureau, remained silent. Ordinary people knew that a prefect was a high-ranking official, and a provincial governor was an even greater authority. As for a Shangshu (Minister) of the Six Ministries, holding a second-rank official status—how prestigious would that be? But what exactly was a Director of the Evaluation Bureau, or a chronicler? Few had even heard of such titles. Naturally, the nobleman chatting casually with him was fully aware. He rubbed his hands together, exhaled warm breath into the cold air, and gazed at the great river flowing eastward year after year, sighing, “Everyone knows you come from a humble background in Beiliang. Back then, to afford the journey to the capital for the imperial exams, you earned three hundred taels of silver by selling your poetry to the Crown Prince of Beiliang. Your palace examination results were mediocre, yet you were inexplicably assigned to the Eastern Palace as a lecturer, and later, by some twist of fate, became a close attendant chronicler to the Emperor. Unfortunately, my clever and refined wife never took a liking to you. She even warned me that getting too close to you would be playing with fire. But you and I both know you are no spy, secretly planted by Beiliang to infiltrate the imperial court. Still, I’ve always been curious—what are your thoughts on that young man, the hereditary Prince of Beiliang? All the scholars from Beiliang, both young and old, seem to curse Xu Fengnian endlessly, as if he had committed some unforgivable crime. I’ve grown tired of hearing it. You, however, have remained silent all these years, never uttering a word. So, today, why don’t you share your true thoughts with me?”
The scholar smiled calmly and said, “The former Crown Prince is actually not unpleasant to be around. Back then, I was merely a poor, penniless scholar, so destitute that I had to sell sixty taels for sixty-seven poems totaling one thousand two hundred and twenty-six characters. When he heard my price, he was furious, claiming I was mocking him. He flipped through my pile of mediocre writings, then held up one hand and said it was worth five hundred taels, tossing me five hundred taels of silver—not the three hundred taels the Crown Prince had promised. In the end, I only received three hundred taels in actual silver, along with four promissory notes, which I have kept carefully tucked inside a book. Over the years, whenever I grew weary in my studies, I would flip through that book again. If you ask me to speak well of the Crown Prince, that’s going too far. After all, it was a fair transaction—money exchanged hands, and neither of us owed the other. If Xu Fengnian were merely a local official, I wouldn’t mind bending the rules a little during this grand evaluation and giving him a top rating. But since he is now the Prince of Beiliang and a Grand Guardian of the Empire, it would be inappropriate for me to fawn over him. On the other hand, if you ask me to join the chorus of those who slander him without conscience, that would be asking too much of me. Being an official is indeed no easy task. While being a person might be simpler, one cannot afford to be careless.”
The scholar’s use of the title “Crown Prince” could only refer to Zhao Zhuang, the sole Crown Prince of the entire Liyang Empire. Although there were many princes and crown princes, there was only one Crown Prince. No one knew why Zhao Zhuang had first admired the ascension of the immortals at Longhu Mountain, which was just nearby, and then returned from the Jiangnan Circuit, going back and forth.
Crown Prince Zhao Zhuang pointed his finger at the scholar who refused to be careless in life and laughed heartily, “You’re scolding me and Jin Sanshao together with that remark. But honesty is more important than anything else. You were also the only one who raised doubts when Zhao Xun submitted his memorial. At that time, everyone in the capital praised Zhao Xun, who was still the Crown Prince, but you were the only one who spoke out, pointing out omissions and criticizing him openly. Later, when it came to bestowing posthumous titles on the two scholars from the Song family, you once again raised objections, provoking the Emperor’s private anger. That’s why he handed you over to Zhao Youling and Yin Maochun, those two old foxes, to suppress you. Otherwise, you would have already taken charge of half the Hanlin Academy by now.”
The scholar replied bitterly, “Your Highness, how could I not understand your intentions? But I have always wanted to be a solitary minister, and after this southern evaluation, that hope is gone.”
Zhao Zhuang smiled cunningly, suddenly pulling off a priceless jade pendant from his waist and pressing it into the scholar’s hand. “I just praised your honesty, and already your fox tail is showing, isn’t it?”
Zhao Zhuang’s smile faded slightly as he spoke gravely, “I know exactly what you truly desire—commanding troops on the battlefield and earning a noble title through scholarship! As long as you and I are willing to wait, I, Zhao Zhuang, will surely not disappoint you!”
The scholar was momentarily stunned, unsure of how to respond.
Zhao Zhuang acted as if nothing had happened, turning and continuing up the mountain with a smile, muttering to himself, “Last time, I couldn’t meet that purple-robed woman from the Xuan clan. It was truly a regret. This time, I’ve gone out of my way to get her a plaque inscribed by the Yansheng Duke and even defended her against the fierce criticisms of the Jianzhou censors. Surely, she’ll at least grant me a polite audience this time?”
However, outside the archway, Zhao Zhu’s group, accompanied by an old eunuch from the palace, was unceremoniously stopped. Their false claim of being relatives of the Jianzhou governor proved useless. The powerful eunuch, furious, was about to unleash his deadly skills. Zhao Zhuang smiled and intervened, claiming to be a favored student of the esteemed cabinet minister Yan Jiexi. Still, he received only scornful glances. Zhao Zhuang remained unfazed and persisted, revealing his identity as a member of the Zhao family from the capital, a close friend of Qingcheng King’s son from the northern regions and Jin Lanting. In the capital, there were four Zhao families. The imperial Zhao family naturally held the highest status in the realm. Next came the family of Zhao Youling, the Minister of Personnel, and the family of Zhao Wei, a general with experience equal to Yang Shenxing. The last Zhao family was somewhat less prestigious, with only a capital official and a provincial governor to their name, but even so, in the provinces, they were still a powerful aristocratic clan with immense authority. However, the guards stationed at the archway glared at him coldly and told Zhao Zhuang to leave, stating that Huishan had a grudge against anyone surnamed Zhao. Then, pointing his nose toward the neighboring Longhu Mountain, he asked Zhao Zhuang if he understood. The old eunuch, whose sneeze could make the entire Jianzhou tremble, was already expressionless. However, the Crown Prince, as always, was in good humor and even found it amusing, laughing heartily and repeatedly saying he understood.
The minor official in charge at the archway was so rude and domineering, but fortunately, a passing guest from Huishan, who understood the gravity of the situation, quickly apologized and hurried to the tall building to deliver a message. Not long after, he returned with a stiff expression, hesitating to speak. Zhao Zhuang, understanding his predicament, kindly asked, “I suppose your mountain master wants me to leave the mountain?”
The guest smiled awkwardly but did not deny it.
Zhao Zhuang politely smiled and said, “No problem, no problem. Please, kind hero, go back to the building again and inform the mountain master that Zhao Zhuang from the capital has come to visit and humbly requests her graciousness to offer us a meal.”
The guest, unfamiliar with the political affairs of the Liyang court, did not think deeply and ran back to report. However, this time, Zhao Zhuang waited for a long time, but in the end, he couldn’t even see the shadow of that person.
The old eunuch said coldly, “Your Highness, this Huishan truly deserves to be wiped out.”
Zhao Zhuang waved his hand and smiled, “It seems I have no choice but to resort to the last resort— Breaking Through the Mountains ( Break through into the mountain). Otherwise, I probably won’t get to see that woman.”
At that moment, Zhao Zhuang suddenly looked up and, from afar, saw at the top of the Niulou Slope, on the roof of the tall building, a figure in purple robes, facing the mighty river, standing with her hands behind her back.
Zhao Zhuang thought for a moment and murmured, “This moment, this scene, is worth it.”
The scholar smiled and asked, “So, are we heading down the mountain now?”
Zhao Zhuang turned around and said, “Down the mountain.”
At the top of the Niulou Slope, on the rooftop of the tall building, the woman who had parted ways with Beiliang had, after successfully reaching the realm of Heaven’s Phenomenon, become even more imposing, as if she could swallow mountains and rivers with her breath.
She stood there until the last traces of the western sunset vanished.
After sitting down, she bent over to tie a knot in her skirt hem. Probably dissatisfied with how it looked, she untied it and tied it again, repeating the process.
Suddenly, she stopped her idle hands, turned her head toward the northwest, and felt like having a drink.
※※※
The land of wandering refugees was indeed no place for the faint of heart, and it certainly did not make things easy for Beiliang. The massive bandit cavalry that had declared itself king beyond the three cities outside had completely torn off its mask of shame and openly rebelled. Even knowing that the 30,000 Dragon and Elephant cavalry had already formed a surrounding net, they still chose to fight like cornered beasts. They bypassed the ancient military town of Linyao and charged straight toward Qingcang. However, the Dragon and Elephant cavalry had stretched their front too thin, and for the time being, this force of over 20,000 bandits was not yet at the point of being crushed like an egg against a stone. In fact, in terms of sheer numbers, Qingcang, which had just been incorporated into Beiliang’s territory, had barely 8,000 people at most. Perhaps its only advantage was that it possessed a city wall. Chen Xiliang insisted on holding his ground and defending Qingcang. The desperate actions of this fierce bandit force were calculated by the Wutong Courtyard, but Chen Xiliang had still posed a significant challenge for Xu Fengnian. Originally, Qingcang was of little importance to Xu Fengnian, who wanted nothing more than to lure the bandits out of the shadows into the open. What did it matter if he gave them a dilapidated city with no resemblance to an impregnable fortress? Moreover, Beiliang’s soldiers were skilled in both mounted and infantry warfare. Chen Xiliang’s reckless and unconventional decision-making angered Xu Fengnian, leaving him no choice but to hastily dispatch Yang Guangdou and Cao Wei, who were originally supposed to complete their journey through Youzhou, to take up their posts as the nominal fourth prefecture of Beiliang—Liuzhou. Additionally, Qi Dangguo, the adopted son of Xu Xiao and commander of the 6,000 Iron Floating Buddha heavy cavalry, was sent under the pretense of escorting Prefect Yang Guangdou, naturally to unleash a massacre.
Since the decision to fight had been made, there was no room for mercy toward the land of wandering refugees. Moreover, the bandits dared to rebel, undoubtedly with the backing of the Nambian court of Beiman. It was possible that a major battle was yet to come, and the 20,000 bandits were likely just an appetizer. Xu Fengnian also worried that a reckless, high-ranking general from the Nambian court might suddenly emerge, eager to gain experience in the land of wandering refugees. If Beiman managed to break through a gap along the Liuzhou front and establish a complete southern supply line, the wavering cities of Linyao and Fengxiang might fully defect to the Nambian side. In that case, the great war between Liang and Man would be forced to ignite prematurely. The northern territory of Beiliang, with its relatively narrow east-west expanse, was not suited for simultaneous battles across the three provinces of You, Liang, and Liu. Xu Fengnian was not afraid of Beiman’s cavalry charging southward, but he certainly did not wish to hear the war cries of those savage northern warriors so soon.
After Yang and Cao departed, Xu Fengnian was left with only one companion, his coachman Xu Yanbing. Now deep within Youzhou’s heartland, Xu Fengnian bent down and stepped out of the carriage for fresh air, sitting beside Xu Yanbing. He remarked wryly, “It seems the old men on the Southern Dynasties’ side, who had long desired to return home for ancestral worship, can no longer sit still. Probably spurred by the revival of the Western Chu, they’re eager to ride and wield swords once more, attempting to collude with the Western Chu from within. What worries me now is the unrest brewing within Qingcang City. Bandits are not the real threat; the real danger lies in the common folk tasting the sweetness of rebellion after Qingcang falls, then rising en masse. All my efforts in visiting Qingcang and sending the Buddha westward would be in vain. As for that stubborn fellow Chen Xiliang, if I meet him again and he’s not already a corpse, I’ll consider him lucky—I’ll beat him half to death myself!”
Xu Yanbing replied calmly, “With the eight hundred Fengzi Camp soldiers holding the city, Qingcang should withstand for a while, though few will survive. The real question is whether there are hidden Master from the Northern Qiang among the bandits.”
Xu Fengnian’s expression darkened as he leaned against the carriage wall, saying quietly, “Right now, I still feel the loss of the Fengzi Camp soldiers, but once the real war breaks out, I probably won’t even have time to grieve. Eventually, I’ll become completely numb, and the number of dead will just be a vague figure on a military report.”
Xu Yanbing said indifferently, “Isn’t that how war always is? Those old soldiers who followed the General to settle in Northern Liang have all seen their comrades die one by one. Don’t feel guilty about it. We’ve been raising them for twenty years. To put it bluntly, even a dog should bite when the time comes.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head, “But they’re not dogs.”
Xu Yanbing smiled, “Exactly because they’re human, there’s the concept of dying when it’s time and dying for a worthy cause. Right now, there are only two men in the Xu family—yourself and your brother. One has already entered the battlefield, and the other hasn’t hidden away. What more could you ask? Should the Second Princess go to war as well? That would be unreasonable. Anyone who dares to argue otherwise with me, I, Xu Yanbing, will be sure to explain my reasoning to them. My reasoning is simple: I have an iron spear. You can use whatever you like—even bring out trebuchets if you want.”
Though Xu Yanbing was a rather rigid man, he had just made a rather humorous remark. But Xu Fengnian, already burdened with urgent concerns, couldn’t bring himself to laugh. If the refugee lands were to erupt in chaos, all of Northern Liang’s carefully laid plans would be thrown into disarray. Although the initiative still seemed to be in his hands, his instincts told him that a certain fat man from the Northern Qiang side, with a massive appetite, might soon interfere and throw a wrench into the works. The problem was that even a small interference could cause Northern Liang great discomfort. This kind of inherent constraint couldn’t be overcome by human effort alone; one could only take things step by step.
To make matters worse, at Qingliang Mountain, misfortunes came in succession. Similar to the Guangling Spring Snow Tower, the Wutong Courtyard had already lost Lüyi and Baijiu. Now two second-tier maids had also voluntarily resigned their positions as female secretaries. Whether it was out of disillusionment or a sense of shared fate, they decisively left the Wutong Courtyard to become common servants in other mansions.
Fortunately, Lu Chengyan, who had endured many trials on her journey to Liang, Resolutely entered the Wutong Courtyard to fill the gap, barely preventing its operations from grinding to a halt. However, the elders and younger generation of the Lu family surrounding her seemed to struggle with the local conditions and failed to quickly integrate into Northern Liang’s bureaucracy by leveraging their status as imperial in-laws. One of Lu Chengyan’s cousins, after being teased by a son of a Liangzhou general, brought his family elders to make a big fuss, nearly going to Qingliang Mountain to complain and seek justice. In Qingzhou, on that night when the new head of the Lu family, Lu Dongjiang, received the bamboo lantern from the former Minister of Rites Lu Feichi, he failed to make a decisive move and instead played the role of a mediator, trying to smooth things over. In Xu Fengnian’s cold observation, this was undoubtedly the worst possible decision. Even if he had unhesitatingly supported the Lu family, Xu Fengnian might have held him in higher regard. At the time, dressed in white mourning clothes, Lu Chengyan had descended the mountain overnight, leaving the Prince’s Mansion, and retrieved the famous sword once carried by her ancestor Lu Feichi during his travels. In front of her father, she forced her brother to kneel outside the ancestral hall. Although she didn’t draw the sword, she still beat his mouth bloody and knocked out several teeth. The woman fiercely scolded him, asking if he dared to speak ill again. That entire Lu family, perhaps mistakenly believing this was Xu Fengnian’s doing, remained silent with fear, swallowing their grievances, and even blaming Lu Chengyan as a daughter who had married out and become like spilled water.
If these were merely petty squabbles within the family—minor internal conflicts that could be shut behind closed doors and wouldn’t affect the larger situation—Xu Fengnian could have treated them as jokes. But the situation in Youzhou was far graver, and he couldn’t afford to be careless. Promoting Huangfu Ping to the position of General of Youzhou was undoubtedly beneficial, but the emerging drawbacks were like adding frost to snow. With the instigation of certain individuals, the border troops, which had previously functioned as an independent system, now harbored unrest within Youzhou’s various military units. According to current intelligence, Zhong Hongwu, who was unwilling to grow old and die in Longqing County, had definitely meddled. Xu Fengnian wanted to know whether Yan Wenluan, the so-called “King of Youzhou,” had played any unsavory role. Whether Yan Wenluan was involved or not would directly determine whether Xu Fengnian needed to “change the sky” within the Northern Liang infantry. The problem was that even if he successfully transformed the Northern Liang infantry from Yan’s army back to Xu’s, losing the seasoned general Yan Wenluan would still be an enormous loss for Northern Liang. Even if Gu Dazu, the former Southern Tang’s top general, could replace Yan Wenluan, it couldn’t be denied that with war looming, Northern Liang desperately needed Yan to stabilize the military morale along the border and relied on his loyalty and determination to defend Youzhou to the death. But was that possible? Yan Wenluan had originally been a key member of Zhao Changling’s “Yangcai” faction, fervently hoping for Xu Xiao to proclaim himself emperor so that they could become founding heroes of a new dynasty. Xu Fengnian knew all too well about the faction supporting the imperial ascension. Yan Wenluan and many other elite soldiers of Northern Liang had been “put on ice” by Xu Xiao. Yan Wenluan, for instance, had been transferred from the cavalry he was familiar with to the infantry, a nominal promotion but a demotion in reality. Even the maternal uncle Xu Fengnian had once gone to Northern Qiang to seek had been harshly suppressed. That turmoil had been a watershed moment. From then on, Zhao Changling and Li Yishan, who had previously been close friends, became estranged. Over time, the cavalry and infantry factions within the Northern Liang army grew increasingly distinct. However, with Zhao Changling’s death near the Western Shu imperial palace thirty miles away, the pro-emperor faction lost its leader, preventing the worst-case scenario of the cavalry and infantry factions turning into bitter enemies. Factions have always been difficult to manage, especially among military leaders who wield swords. They are thick-skinned and unafraid of light scoldings, and if criticized too harshly, they might just throw down their burdens. The more ruthless ones might even rebel outright out of sheer anger. With Xu Xiao, Northern Liang was one heaven and one earth. Even if Xu Xiao grew old and could only lie on his sickbed, as long as the “Butcher” still lived, Northern Liang’s internal chaos, though messy, would never escalate to open rebellion on the surface.
If only killing a few people could resolve all these problems—how easy and pleasant that would be!
Xu Fengnian leaned against the carriage wall, closed his eyes, and clenched his teeth. His internal energy surged violently, like a pot of boiling water with endless firewood added beneath it, spilling over the edges. The carriage curtains were torn apart by the tangible threads of energy, becoming tattered and ruined. The horse pulling the carriage burst into bloody flowers, neighing and growing restless. Xu Yanbing simply stopped the carriage.
After about an hour and a half, Xu Fengnian’s face, which had been glowing with purple and yellow hues, gradually returned to normal. Drenched in sweat, he looked weary and asked with a bitter smile, “Uncle Xu, how many times has this been?”
Xu Yanbing replied calmly, “The sixth time. The time it takes to ‘return the spirit’ is getting longer. Only three remain, and they will be even more perilous. They may not be survivable. The hidden complications from this false state were originally negligible, harmless even if one entered the Zhixuan realm. However, after receiving the Purple Thunder from Liu Haoshi and the dumpling from Yuan Qingshan, the situation has become a precarious balance of fortune and misfortune.”
Xu Fengnian smiled, “I hope I can last until the ninth return of the spirit. Only then will the last pouch that Chen Xiliang accidentally found in the pavilion be meaningful.”
Xu Yanbing nodded and sighed, “This might be the final joint strategy from Li Yishan and Zhao Changling.”
Xu Fengnian exhaled a heavy breath with difficulty. His martial arts disorder might be unprecedented and unparalleled, rooted in three consecutive false states. Twice, he had successively entered the Zhixuan and Tianxiang realms by drawing on the power of infants. After battling Wang Xianzhi and experiencing that “free and easy journey” that drove away all worldly matters, he had a sudden realization at the Qiqin Pavilion, belatedly understanding that he had once stepped onto the threshold of becoming an earthly immortal capable of spiritual projection. The pond created by the Da Huang Ting now boiled with water at regular intervals. In Xu Fengnian’s own words, this was “departing the soul,” and what he needed to do was the corresponding act of “returning the spirit,” calming the myriad threads of chaotic energy. Since the Da Huang Ting had nine levels, Xu Fengnian guessed there would be nine departures and returns of the soul before true completion. Only then could he hope to challenge a Tianxiang-level opponent, though even then, he would still stand no chance against Wang Xianzhi. At present, Xu Fengnian had only one target in his sights—Wang Xianzhi himself. Anything less would be meaningless.
Zhao Changling had once placed a chess piece inside the imperial palace.
When Xu Fengnian was young and had cast aside his sword, Li Yishan took over that seemingly lifeless piece from Zhao Changling and continued the game.
Their goal was singular.
Gaoshulu—the man who, four hundred years ago, had slain all the top martial experts in the world alone.
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