Xufengnian mounted the red jujube horse originally assigned to Yu Youwei, glanced up at the overcast sky, and surmised that a heavy rain was inevitable that night. At their current pace, they could reach Hengshui City by dusk and avoid traveling in the downpour. Lü Qiantang, wielding the massive Chixia sword, led the way at the front, while Shu Xiu and Yang Qingfeng, who carried no visible weapons, brought up the rear. The elderly Daoist Wei Shuyang, positioned in the middle, nudged his horse forward to ride alongside Xufengnian. These four personal guards all possessed strength around the second tier. Even if they faced semi-immortals like Deng Tai’a or Cao Guānzi—who occupied the pinnacle of martial prowess—they could still put up a fight, or at the very least, buy enough time for the cross-eyed old man in the carriage to finish picking his toes and nose.
Xufengnian asked softly, “Grandpa Wei, what exactly is the strength of these top ten masters? Can you explain it in simpler terms?”
The Nine-Peck Rice Daoist pondered briefly before replying slowly, “I once heard a senior from our sect mention this. Leaving aside Wang Xianzhi, who defies all logic, the remaining nine can be roughly divided. The new Sword Dao leader Deng Tai’a, Wang Mao with his broken arc spear, and Cao Guānzi clearly stand a level above the other six. I dare say the so-called ‘Top Ten Masters’ are merely the most famous—there are likely others of similar strength. This group can be further split into two realms. This aligns with the senior’s theory of ‘Four Tiers Within the First Rank’: the Vajra, Finger Mystery, and Heavenly Phenomena realms. Only the Vajra realm signifies true mastery in martial arts, where one’s bones become indestructible. Liu Pu, who guards Li Yingyuan in the Listening to the Tides Pavilion, and Chu Kuangnu likely belong here. The Finger Mystery realm is ineffably profound, while the Heavenly Phenomena realm is beyond my comprehension. The Sword Servant Huang, who once escorted you on your six-thousand-li journey, likely hovered between these two. His final stance at the Emperor City duel firmly reached the Heavenly Phenomena realm. Deng Tai’a, Wang Mao, and Cao Guānzi each entered this realm at different times. Only Wang Xianzhi has remained unshakable at this level for half a lifetime—truly insurmountable.”
Xufengnian asked again, “Grandpa Wei, you skipped the final realm?”
Wei Shuyang chuckled. “Back then, the senior only said that reaching it would make one an Earth Immortal. I believe if anyone in this world could achieve such divinity, it would be Wang Xianzhi. Looking further back, perhaps Qi Xuanzhen of Dragon-Tiger Mountain and Old Master Zhao, who defied fate for the late emperor, might qualify. The Wu Family Sword Mausoleum produces a Land Sword Immortal every century—it’s about time for another to emerge. As for the Two Zen Temples… hard to say. Buddhist holy lands might hide a Golden-Bodied Arhat somewhere. When I was your age, there were four great masters renowned across the land—far more deserving of their titles than today’s Top Ten. The Crimson Armored Man of the South, clad in blood-red armor with no visible face. The Green-Robed Matriarch of Fengdu in the West. The third was right here in Northern Liang—the Spear Immortal Wang Xiu.”
Xufengnian sneered. “I’ve heard a bit about him. Chen Zhibo learned his spear techniques from him, only to end up killed by his own disciple.”
Wei Shuyang stroked his beard and smiled. “The last one was the most illustrious. No matter how many swordsmen existed, none could avoid his shadow. As long as he lived, no one dared claim supremacy in swordsmanship—just as no one dares call themselves first while Wang Xianzhi claims second. You already know who I mean, don’t you?”
Xufengnian nodded. “Sword God Li Chun’gang. After Wang Xianzhi snapped his Wooden Horse Ox with two fingers, he vanished without a trace.”
Wei Shuyang, who had once been young himself, sighed nostalgically. “Each generation has its prodigies, but he stood alone for fifty years. They say Li Chun’gang’s swordsmanship was peerless, and his charisma unmatched. Back then, no woman could resist his charm—even the Green-Robed Matriarch willingly let the Wooden Horse Ox pierce her. As a boy, I dreamed of meeting him someday, just to exchange a single word. When Wang Xianzhi defeated him, I refused to accept it for the longest time, wishing I could fight Wang myself. I’d trained with the sword for over a decade before abandoning it for Daoism—largely because of Li’s retirement. A youth without dreams of roaming the rivers and lakes in green robes and with a sword lacks ambition.”
Xufengnian was amused by the rare display of youthful nostalgia from Grandpa Wei, lightening the gloom that had settled over him in the carriage. He couldn’t help but tease, “Grandpa Wei, did you also dream of being a dashing swordsman back then?”
The Nine-Peck Rice Daoist smiled faintly. “Who wasn’t young once? To be honest, I even had crushes on a few female knights-errant. Once, when I finally got the chance to meet one, I was so nervous I just stood there trembling, unable to speak. Compared to you, young master, it’s like the difference between the Vajra and Heavenly Phenomena realms—five of me combined wouldn’t measure up.”
Xufengnian and Wei Shuyang were practically kindred spirits despite their age difference. As a child, Xufengnian had ridden on the old Daoist’s shoulders and even mischievously relieved himself there. In his youth, he’d often listened to Grandpa Wei’s tales of mountain spirits and immortals in the Listening to the Tides Pavilion. Otherwise, given Xufengnian’s shrewdness, would he have handed the precious *Canon of the Triplex Unity* manuscript from Wudang Mountain to Wei Shuyang the moment he obtained it? And allowed him to make copies for further annotation? Did Xufengnian truly not understand the manual’s value? With the Great Yellow Court already in his possession, the seemingly thinner *Canon of the Triplex Unity* might well be even weightier.
Xufengnian grinned. “Grandpa Wei, even if I have to dig three feet into the earth, I’ll find Li Chun’gang for you.”
The old Daoist shook his head. “I’m already halfway into my coffin. Who knows if Li the Immortal is even alive anymore? No use hoping.”
Inside the carriage, Jiang Ni’s sharp ears caught the words “Wooden Horse Ox.” The name struck a chord with her—another absurd yet poignant tale tied to her royal uncle. Before Western Chu’s fall, Prince Jiang had spent a fortune acquiring half of the legendary sword—a two-inch fragment—intending to forge it into a dagger rivaling the Divine Talisman. He’d even named it “Innocence,” planning to gift it to his beloved niece, the Taiping Princess, to pair with the Divine Talisman. But before the dagger could be completed, Western Chu’s defeat at Xileibi shattered the nation’s spirit.
Jiang Ni eyed the disheveled old man napping nearby and whispered, “Did you just mention the Wooden Horse Ox?”
The old man, seeming disheartened, replied indifferently, “No.”
Jiang Ni pursed her lips. “I know. You’re Li Chun’gang, the so-called Sword God.”
The old man opened his eyes in surprise. “Even that sharp-witted Xufengnian lad hasn’t dared guess that. And you, little girl, deduce it from three words? Do I look like some Sword God?”
Jiang Ni, her legs numb from squatting, stretched them one at a time and said flatly, “You don’t. But does that mean you’re not?”
The old man sat up, studying the slender girl before him. “If you think I’m Li Chun’gang, why refuse to learn swordsmanship from me?”
Jiang Ni shook her head. “Different matters. I’ve already explained. The stronger you are, the sooner I’d die.”
The old man was utterly exasperated. He emphasized, “Even if I’m not Li Chun’gang, I still retain at least half my peak strength. Believe me, if I wanted Xufengnian dead, I could walk out right now and pluck his head off like plucking a weed.”
Jiang Ni scoffed. “See? Your mouth is your greatest weapon. Go ahead and kill him, then. I doubt Xu Xiao would let you.”
The old man fell into deep thought.
Jiang Ni picked up *The Thousand Swords Compendium*, which she’d barely started reading, and said, “Who you are doesn’t concern me. Besides, *I’m* the one who’s supposed to kill Xufengnian—not you. Not that I could stop you if you tried. For all I know, you’ve struck a deal with him and are testing me.”
The old man shook his head, smiling wryly. “You’re quite like that princess whose sword intent was vast as the heavens. Why must women of such caliber always tangle with the Xu men? If not for that rascal Xu Xiao, she might’ve refined her sword intent for another decade—even I and that lucky bastard Wang Xianzhi wouldn’t have dared claim victory over her. Now she’s gone, and here you are. It’s enough to make a man choke with frustration.” He sighed. “If you won’t learn the sword, I won’t force you. Obsession would only hinder your progress anyway. Killing can never surpass saving lives. That Daoist Qi once debated me—I spoke of swords, he of the Heavenly Dao. Neither convinced the other. Later, he beheaded a demon on the Execution Platform and ascended to immortality, while I lost to Wang Xianzhi. Only then did I realize: to reach the realms of immortals and Buddhas, one must act to save, not destroy.”
Suddenly, the old man’s dull eyes gleamed with an unearthly light, like the radiance of a righteous sword. He muttered, “Killing… saving…” then stared intently at the bewildered Jiang Ni and smiled. “Little girl, it’s a shame you won’t learn the sword. If you ever change your mind, come find me.”
Jiang Ni ignored him, burying her nose in her book.
*This old geezer might really be the Sword God Li Chun’gang.*
She suddenly peeked out and whispered, “You said Xufengnian has half your talent but started training too late to amount to much. So what’s the point of me secretly learning swordsmanship from you?”
The old man was momentarily stumped. After untangling her logic—that she’d been bullied by Xufengnian for so long she’d subconsciously accepted his superiority—he coaxed, “Your talent’s no worse than his. What’s there to fear?”
A flicker of hope lit Jiang Ni’s eyes, but it quickly faded. She grimaced. “Forget it. Training with blades or swords is too hard. I’d rather stick to books.”
*Ah.* The little mud doll who’d treasured her vegetable patch on Wudang Mountain must’ve been secretly terrified by Xufengnian’s fanatical blade practice.
Poor Old Li the Sword God. Little did he know that just outside the carriage, an aging admirer still revered his name.
The old man, who’d spent a lifetime never begging but receiving countless kowtows, nearly banged his head in frustration. *What kind of reason is that?!*
Steadying himself, he consoled himself that this was for the best—her stubborn, unreasonable spirit was precisely what he admired. Had Li Chun’gang ever bothered reasoning with the world?
Simple matters, difficult matters, storms and strife, the jianghu’s affairs, dynastic upheavals, the fate of the realm—all were but a single sword’s matter.
Jiang Ni rolled up her sleeves and gently unwound the silk ribbon binding the Divine Talisman dagger.
The old man stared, baffled. *What now? Not only refusing to learn, but picking a fight with me when I’m feeling charitable?*
This muddled world truly made no sense.
To his surprise, the self-proclaimed “not-too-bright-and-averse-to-hard-work” Jiang Ni extended the dagger to him, murmuring, “Here. Not a gift—just a loan.”
The old man accepted the Divine Talisman slowly, suppressing his shock. “Why?”
The girl hid behind her book again, whispering, “No one’s kind to me anymore. You seem… decent.”
The one-armed man who no longer possessed the Wooden Horse Ox showed no expression. He simply sat in silence.
Still concealed behind her book, Jiang Ni repeated, “I won’t learn the sword.”
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