In Bishan County, some people were joyful while others were anxious. Those who were delighted were mostly those who knew how to adapt like grass on a fence, quickly pledging loyalty to County Magistrate Feng Guan and his fellow officials. Those who were a beat too slow now worried about how much silver it would take—perhaps hundreds of taels—to even knock on the doors of these powerful figures.
County Magistrate Feng Guan was currently riding high on success, having earned merit for suppressing bandits. Hong Shandong, the governor of Yan Zhi Prefecture, had personally arrived at the county office to commend him. The influential Zhu family within the county had also taken the lead in donating three thousand taels of silver, raising nearly ten thousand taels overnight. Naturally, Zhu Zhengli’s eldest grandson was smoothly appointed to the county’s Criminal Bureau. However, Zhu Zhengli himself felt little joy. His friend Xu, the county clerk, had barely survived recent troubles and now had no foothold left in Bishan County. Rumor had it that Feng Guan had subtly mentioned to Governor Hong that the young clerk had acted suspiciously on Golden Cockerel Mountain. If not for Wang Shiwei, the head of Qing’an Prefecture’s constabulary, who had vouched for him, Xu Qi’s clerk position—bought at great expense—might have been in jeopardy. Zhu Zhengli Specially paid a visit to Xu’s private residence, bringing two jars of Jian Nan Spring wine, intending to offer some comfort. Instead, he grew furious when he found Xu laughing as if nothing had happened. Xu even gave him a cage of red-bellied pheasants, saying that if Zhu didn’t want them, they could be given to the noble children of Yan Zhi Prefecture as a fine gift.
Zhu Zhengli had no heart for such luxuries, worrying instead that Xu Qi would soon be forced to pack up and leave Bishan County. Who would he drink with then? Zhu finally revealed his family’s connections in Yan Zhi Prefecture, offering to plead on Xu’s behalf. He couldn’t promise a promotion, but at least he could help keep Xu’s clerk position secure. Unexpectedly, Xu refused the offer and lectured Zhu at length, saying that the Zhu family had no promising young men to carry on their legacy. The goodwill accumulated by previous generations was dwindling, and it would be a waste to spend it on someone like him. It would be hard to get a return on such an investment.
That day, Zhu Zhengli drank himself into a stupor and was carried home by Xu Qi. The next day, when he went to find him, the woman whom the entire county office referred to as “Madam Xu” was still there, but she said that Xu had taken leave to visit Wudang Mountain for relaxation. No one knew when he would return to resume his duties.
Hearing this infuriating news, Zhu Zhengli squatted on the steps, sulking. This Xu fellow was too ungrateful—when trouble came, he ran off to hide, leaving his wife and friends behind? Zhu hung his head, lost in thought, occasionally sighing.
The quiet woman, whose proper title was unclear—whether “sister-in-law” or “younger brother’s wife”—was far more composed than he was. She was calmly scooping water from a vat and sprinkling it over a small vegetable patch near the wall.
When Zhu finally snapped out of his daze, he quickly stood up to take his leave. Though he had only been there for a few cups of tea and had nothing to hide, the neighborhood was full of gossiping women and nosy men. If rumors spread, they might twist into something unrecognizable. If Xu returned and heard such nonsense, their brotherhood might be over.
Zhu hopped down the steps and bid his farewell. The woman made no attempt to stop him. She placed the ladle aside, scattered some rice for the caged chickens and ducks, and returned to the empty house. Sitting on a bench, she gazed out at the courtyard where green shoots were sprouting at the corners of the walls. The noisy clucking of the chickens filled her ears. She felt a pang of frustration—not because he came and went without care, but because when Xu was there, he would always effortlessly herd the chickens and ducks back into their coops at dusk. Without him, she found the task exhausting and often failed. Just the day before, a young hen had gone missing—just starting to lay eggs. This upset Pei Nanwei greatly, so she decided not to open the cage that day.
Pei Nanwei glanced at the sky, remembering that there were still a few of his shirts hanging on the bamboo pole. She went to the backyard and began folding them one by one over her arm.
Xu Fengnian had not set foot on Wudang Mountain since descending from the summit of Xiao Lianhua Peak after his soul-wandering practice. As he passed through the stone archway inscribed with “Wudang Prosperity,” Xu ascended the steps alone, without any retinue or prior notice to the local authorities. Thus, there was no formal welcome from the mountain monks. However, the old Taoist priest Song Zhiming had been waiting at the mountain gate for days. That day, the old man was descending slowly from Da Lianhua Peak when he coincidentally met Xu Fengnian face-to-face. The eldest among the mountain monks, Song Zhiming, simply turned around with a smile, without uttering any formalities about having failed to greet him properly. He just accompanied the young Prince of Beiliang up the mountain.
The old man couldn’t help sighing. The mountain was so quiet now—Master Wang and the young disciple were gone. The current abbot, Li Yufu, had not yet returned, and the young Master Wang had been traveling for quite some time. Only a few old men remained, their white hair growing whiter, left to guard the mountain. How boring it was! There were indeed some promising young disciples on the mountain, but they lacked the freedom of the young disciple and Abbot Li Yufu. Their faces were too thin-skinned to endure the teasing of the old men. Some jokes, especially those from Chen You, who was in charge of Wudang’s discipline, were so cold that the younger generation mostly stood in fear. Song Zhiming chuckled, while Chen You, the old eccentric, asked them seriously if they had encountered any young and beautiful female pilgrims. It wasn’t that he was worried about their cultivation or their Daoist hearts—it was just that the old man was bored and wanted to play with the juniors.
Song Zhiming no longer obsessed over alchemy and rarely touched the cauldrons. He often wandered around the mountain. If he couldn’t wait for Abbot Li Yufu at the mountain gate, he would return to the mountain, looking at the bamboo groves, the turtle-carrying steles, and the celestial pool. The young Taoist boys in the temples couldn’t help but feel that Master Song was truly old.
Xu Fengnian and Song Zhiming walked slowly toward Xiao Lianhua Peak along the winding mountain paths. Xu said softly, “Last time, I took the initiative to summon the True Martial God’s image from the Spring God Lake ahead of schedule, causing Wudang a lot of trouble. I’m a pragmatic person, but I’m glad I don’t like to say insincere polite words. If there’s anything the mountain needs from Beiliang, just say it.”
Song Zhiming waved his hand and smiled, “It’s not a business deal, so there’s no need to talk about returns. Master Lü once left a warning: Wudang Mountain has the word ‘should’ in it. One of its meanings is to ‘shoulder responsibility without hesitation.’”
Xu Fengnian fell silent.
Song Zhiming continued, “The Prince guards the northwest gate, which can be described as ‘a single man guarding the pass.’ There’s also the word ‘should’ in that. No wonder there’s a connection with Wudang Mountain.”
Xu Fengnian stopped, looking at the clouds rolling over Lianhua Peak, and sighed, “To be honest, this time Wang Xianzhi rushed to Beiliang, catching me off guard. I had no choice but to come to this blessed land of Wudang to be a fat rat. There are only so many positions for earthly immortals. In the past, whoever ascended first would be replaced by the next. I and Wang Xianzhi are a bit different. I squeezed in forcefully, and it just happened to be his seat, so Wang Xianzhi came to cause trouble. After all, he is not a true cultivator who has attained the Dao. No matter how high his martial cultivation is, no matter how deep his cultivation, he cannot pass through the heavenly gate.”
Song Zhiming countered, “If the blessings of the blessed lands are clung to by the people on the mountain generation after generation, how is that different from the money-hoarders below the mountain?”
Song Zhiming soon laughed freely, “When it’s time to accumulate, accumulate blessings. When it’s time to disperse, disperse fortune. Only then can the water flow without becoming stagnant. Otherwise, even the deepest pond will become a pool of stinking water, causing only disgust. Of course, it’s not because you are the son of a general that you can take whatever you want. It’s because you, the Prince of Beiliang, are the one who blocks the northern invaders. What you take and what you give are roughly equal. The old Taoist and several of my senior and junior brothers often speak of you, especially after you became the sixth strongest in the world. We especially hope that you can truly bring down that old second, Wang. In the future, when people hear that the Prince of Beiliang once trained his blade here on this mountain, there will surely be more pilgrims.”
Xu Fengnian said softly, “When I first left my body in meditation, I saw a young boy in the south of the Yangtze River. I later told Abbot Li Yufu. I wonder how he is now.”
Song Zhiming laughed, “The old Taoist knows his time is limited. I have been waiting for half a year, but I may still not see it. However, even if I don’t, it doesn’t matter. As long as those two, whether as master and apprentice or senior and junior brothers, can come to the mountain, it will be fine.”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
Song Zhiming suddenly said, “The old Taoist has a request.”
Before Xu Fengnian could agree, Song Zhiming suddenly struck him on the shoulder with a heavy punch. Xu Fengnian smiled, not taking offense. The old Taoist muttered angrily, “No matter what, the Abbot and the young disciple, one died because of you, and the other was reborn because of your older sister. The old Taoist has been holding onto this resentment, thinking I would take it to my grave. But since you came knocking, even if I can’t beat you, Xu Fengnian…”
Xu Fengnian smiled, “Master Song, if that still doesn’t relieve your anger, hit me again?”
Song Zhiming turned away with a stern face and walked off, saying, “Forget it. If I anger you, the master of thirty thousand iron cavalry, Wudang Mountain won’t be able to handle it.”
Xu Fengnian smiled and continued alone toward the summit of Xiao Lianhua Peak.
Song Zhiming, walking down the mountain with his back to Xu Fengnian, secretly gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath. “Damn, no wonder you’re the sixth strongest in the world. You didn’t even fight back, and my entire arm is aching. I should have hit you lighter.”
Xu Fengnian reached the stele carried by the turtle at the mountain peak, exhaled deeply, and prepared to go beyond mere spiritual wandering. He was about to look into the “Spring and Autumn Annals.” Whether he would see the decisive battle at Xilebi, the ten-year siege of Xiangfan, or the sword qi of Li Chungan at the Western Shu palace—all was uncertain. In any case, this was last-minute preparation. The more he could see, the better. If Wang Xianzhi moved too quickly along that path, even with Xu Fengnian’s current Realm, which surpassed the sixth rank, he would still be doomed. Huang Sanjia’s martial ranking deliberately placed him in this ambiguous position, intending for him to die later. First, he needed to replenish his Fate’s decree Realm, then rescue the giggling girl as agreed. After that, whether Xu Fengnian lived or died would be none of Huang Longshi’s concern. In this world, Huang Sanjia was certainly not the fairest businessman, but he was definitely the most unwilling to suffer any loss—a stubborn old turtle.
Xu Fengnian placed one hand on the turtle’s back, closed his eyes, and said, “Eight hundred years ago, there was the Qin Dynasty. Four hundred years ago, there was the Great Feng Dynasty. Compared to Qin, Feng had one fewer person. Are they waiting for me?”
Over the eight-hundred-mile Spring God Lake, a giant turtle slowly surfaced.
In the Taian City, the golden statue of the True Martial God holding the Shen Tu talisman and sword began to sway.
Xu Fengnian extended a finger and wiped across his eyebrows.
The current situation—was it anything less than an emergency?
Since that was the case, only extraordinary measures would suffice.
Xu Fengnian let out a burp and exhaled a puff of purple-gold mist.
He imitated Yuan Qingshan, the Northern Barbarian State Teacher, and with one hand, pulled out a “Xu Fengnian,” and together they headed toward the Spring and Autumn Annals.
※※※
Wang Xianzhi’s departure from Wudi City quickly stirred a storm in the martial world. By the time the shockwaves reached the Jianghu, a gaunt old man in hemp clothes and shoes, with snow-white hair, had already crossed most of the former Xichu Kingdom’s territory. He boarded a boat and arrived at the widest section of the Guangling River. Standing at the bow of the ferry, the tall old man drew attention, but among the countless martial artists traveling the Jianghu, he was just another tall figure without a weapon, hardly a sight to cause alarm. Some who were skilled at networking tried to approach him, hoping to make a connection and gain some recognition. However, those who attempted conversation received no response and eventually gave up, grumbling that the old man was putting on airs and might drop dead from the sun.
The old man in hemp clothes stood silently at the bow, gazing at the distant river. Suddenly, his aura condensed, and the powerful river wind that had been filling the sails seemed to pause. The large two-deck ferry, without any apparent cause, spun like a drifting leaf on the water.
Everyone was startled and looked around in confusion. There were rumors that a dragon lurked in the Guangling River—Lu Zu had once cut it down with a flying sword, and later Li Chungan, in his green robe, had performed a similar feat.
A hundred zhang ahead, a solitary boat floated motionless.
A woman stood proudly.
A single figure in purple, swaying in the wind.
Purple blocks the river.
With the release of the new martial rankings, the entire Jianghu was speculating about the meaning of Nan Gong Pushe’s “only one floor away” from the Tingchao Pavilion and the “only one gate away” of the Daxueping Purple Robe.
Only those familiar with the Spring and Autumn Wars might recall that on either side of the solitary boat and the purple-robed woman, there were two massive stone disk ruins. Each stood two zhang high, with two iron pillars now rusted and corroded. They were originally set up during the Great Feng Dynasty and had once successfully blocked the southern invasion of the northern barbarians. By pulling up several iron chains, the Guangling River could be sealed shut. Most of the chains were slightly hidden beneath the water’s surface, only fully emerging during dry seasons. Later, a general guarding the river for Xichu betrayed his post and burned the chains himself, leading to the tragic tale of “no arrows fired, yet the chains sank into the river.” It was said that when the people of the former Chu Kingdom heard the news after the Battle of Xileibi, countless tears were shed. In later generations, many fishermen skilled in swimming, backed by generous rewards from Spring and Autumn exiles, attempted to dive into the river to find those chains. Unfortunately, none succeeded, and the exiles could only abandon their silver and return in sorrow. As the Liyang Dynasty stabilized and peace prevailed, fewer and fewer people cared whether the iron chains truly lay at the bottom of the Guangling River. In recent years, no one had even bothered to think about it.
The old man at the bow of the ferry was somewhat surprised. It was only natural that someone might try to block his way, but he hadn’t expected her to be the first.
The woman already bore the illustrious titles of both the Alliance Leader of the Martial Arts World and the head of the Xuanyuan Clan of Guniu Fortress, yet she still dared to risk her life so recklessly. After he had abandoned the city, it was no longer as forgiving as within the confines of the Martial Emperor’s City. In the past, he had cherished every martial artist like a precious tree—not because Wang Xianzhi was a compassionate soul with mercy for all—but because he hoped that one of them might eventually ascend to the pinnacle of martial cultivation and stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Now, having left the city and departed from the East Sea, his purpose was clear: to seek out the Prince of Beiliang. As for all others, they no longer merited Wang Xianzhi’s attention. Anyone foolish enough to provoke him now would find themselves dead. He wouldn’t mind eliminating them one by one, as a fitting prelude to his final battle under the heavens.
Wang Xianzhi lifted his gaze to the sky. After this world, there remained only the heavens.
The bow of the ferry began to sink slowly, tilting the stern high into the air. Yet all the passengers who tumbled forward were halted mid-slide by an invisible wall at the ship’s center, a group huddled together in panic as they watched the old man in coarse robes still standing at the bow.
The woman in purple bent down, tying a knot in her skirt’s hem—a knot tied tightly and securely.
Standing back up, she gazed toward the distant figure of the world’s greatest martial expert, already poised and ready. Xuanyuan Qingfeng had arrived here after a swift journey down from Huishan without hesitation. She had no regrets. In the Western Regions, when she encountered the “Human Cat,” the peerless martial expert below the rank of Immortal, she had hesitated—not only out of fear, but more so because she refused to expend all her strength. Later, when that same opponent was set to fight the “Human Cat” to the death, she again refused to throw her life away and withdrew once more, even going so far as to distance herself from the Beiliang faction, earning the favor of the Zhao imperial family of Liyang. Thus, she rose to become the first female Alliance Leader in centuries, revered by all under heaven. Did she lack loyalty and righteousness? She never denied her betrayal, but she was a woman—what use did she have for righteousness? Initially, when she heard that Wang Xianzhi had left the city to head toward Beiliang, she hadn’t rushed in headstrong. After absorbing the imperial aura of the jade seal and devouring the accumulated cultivation of nearly a hundred martial experts, she had broken through to the Grand Heaven-Awareness Realm. She now understood the invincible aura of those ranked among the top three in the Martial Rankings, and she could already see the final threshold ahead. She should have valued her life even more. But after she unearthed three jars of aged wine buried long ago by her father, Xuanyuan Jingcheng, beneath a Tangui tree, she had intended to drink herself into oblivion. Yet the more she drank, the clearer her mind became. That night, lying on the eaves of a tall building, she stared for a long time at the eight tiny characters etched into the bottom of a bottle. Then, silently and without a word, she descended the mountain.
She had retreated before the tenth strongest in the world.
But now, facing Wang Xianzhi, a man unrivaled for sixty years, she had come.
At this moment, Xuanyuan Qingfeng muttered to herself with a wry smile, “Are you really that foolish?”
She chuckled softly. “Beyond redemption? Then don’t bother trying to be saved. Can you run away now? No. Then fight. What’s the big deal.”
Her eyes hardened with sudden determination. She extended an arm, fingers curling like hooks. The river beside the small boat churned and boiled violently.
A massive iron chain, like a black dragon, burst forth from the river’s surface.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng seized one end of the chain, then pushed off with the tip of her foot. The small boat shattered into pieces.
The woman in purple dragged the iron chain, over two hundred zhang long, as she sprinted across the river’s surface. With a flick of her wrist, the chain twisted instantly into a wide arc, like a scorpion’s tail, lashing down fiercely toward the ferry.
The old man at the ferry’s bow leapt high into the air. The entire bow plunged into the river, then was thrust back up by the current beneath, sliding backward rapidly.
Wang Xianzhi soared into the sky, directly meeting the iron chain that descended with the force of thunder and lightning. In that brief moment, the Guangling River seemed split apart by a celestial sword strike, dividing it north and south, east and west.
Wang Xianzhi’s expression remained unchanged. As the violent gales slammed into him, he seized the chain with one hand. He did not grasp it immediately, letting it slide several zhang through his palm, sending sparks flying.
Wang Xianzhi clenched his fist, snapping the chain like the tail of a dragon.
A thunderous boom rang out, louder than summer thunder.
The river beneath exploded into towering waves.
Unmoved by the broken chain, the woman halted her steps, retracting her arm slightly before thrusting it forward again. The severed iron chain, now flexible and deadly, coiled into a spear-like tip, aimed straight at Wang Xianzhi’s chest.
Wang Xianzhi extended a palm, pressing his palm against the “spearhead,” and slightly tilted his body as he descended.
The tip of the spear exploded like a lit firecracker, disintegrating section by section, each detonation echoing one after another.
The unyielding woman, still refusing to let go, was struck by the immense force and sent hurtling into the river!
From the center of that purple robe, a magnificent splash erupted upon the Guangling River, grand and awe-inspiring.
The woman was gone from the river’s surface.
Before Wang Xianzhi landed upon the water, he hurled the ten-zhang-long black iron chain in his hand toward the woman, who had nearly sunk to the riverbed.
Wang Xianzhi paid no heed to whether she lived or died. As his feet touched the water, he bent his knees and interlocked his fingers into a single fist, slamming it down onto the river’s surface!
The entire river was struck as if by a giant hammer, forming a “water bowl.” The green waters along the rim of the giant bowl surged violently over the banks, while the water level at the center plummeted sharply, clearly aiming to crush the woman at the bottom into a pulp.
Without bothering to rise immediately, Wang Xianzhi said calmly, “Dodge? Even Xu Fengnian with his thirty thousand iron cavalry cannot escape. Where can you possibly run?”
Without waiting for the river’s fury to settle, Wang Xianzhi brought his two fingers together and tapped the water’s surface.
With each tap, a dragon rose from the water and hovered in the air.
In an instant, there were eighteen green dragons above the river.
Wang Xianzhi stood up and casually flicked his sleeve.
Once, there was a swordsman in green robes, wielding twin serpents within his sleeves.
Now, Wang Xianzhi summoned green dragons with a single flick of his sleeve.
With one sleeve, the dragons circled and connected, then dove downward into the water.
The river churned and roared.
Wang Xianzhi crossed his arms and waited silently for the woman to be forced back to the surface to meet her doom.
Beneath the surface, more than a dozen sharp, muffled explosions followed one after another.
When the woman finally emerged from the water, countless broken chains spiraled violently around her.
The woman in purple stood atop an iron chain laid horizontally across the river.
A faint trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.
Still separated by more than eighty zhang from the woman, Wang Xianzhi raised one arm forward and drew back the other.
With a single punch through the air—
Bang!
A fan-shaped barrier of qi appeared around the old man.
Then, the iron chain of the woman in purple lunged forward wildly, only to be shredded and torn apart in an instant.
Another deafening boom!
The woman was sent flying backward. Despite the chaotic threads of energy tugging at her, trying desperately to halt her retreat, it was all in vain. She flew backward until her body slammed into the cliffs, leaving behind a massive indentation.
It resembled a tomb.
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