A carriage rolled slowly in the northeast direction, its cabin empty. The coachman was a young nobleman in plain clothes, with a handsome and refined appearance. If he were a scion of an official’s family, with such good looks and perhaps a talent for calligraphy, he would likely have a smooth career in government service. Unfortunately, he appeared to be of a lowly status that barred him from pursuing scholarly examinations.
The Liyang dynasty had restructured its administrative divisions by establishing Dao above the Zhou level. Among these Dao territories, Prince Yan Che governed the vast southern frontier, while General Zhao Yi kept a close watch on the Guangling Dao, which followed closely in size, though it was incomparably more prosperous. Half of the nation’s taxes came from Guangling, a fact not exaggerated in the least. However, Guangling Dao was currently in turmoil. In the past, people could rely on connections to travel along the official post roads, but now, with war looming, the situation had grown tense. The main post roads surrounding Guangling Dao were under strict surveillance, forbidding anyone other than soldiers and officials from passing through. Those caught would face exile to the Liaodong region. Border checkpoints were set up with sharpened swords and spears, allowing only departures and no entries. This was clearly a preemptive move by the rebels of the Xichu regime to fortify their territory and isolate it from the outside, followed by the Liyang forces carrying out a scorched-earth policy to ensure their enemies were trapped like fish in a barrel.
Several feudal lords bearing the banners of quelling rebellion had stationed themselves at the border. Most of them were cautious about their reputations, and their personal troops generally maintained discipline. However, some second- and third-tier generals, holding onto their meager military authority but unable to participate in the initial battles, sensed an opportunity for profit. Just as horses grow fat without night grazing, so too did bandits take advantage of the chaos. There were indeed a few uprisings, though not as severe as the local garrisons reported. As a result, minor disturbances began to spread, creating the appearance of a chaotic era where bandits combed the land like a fine-toothed comb. Soon after, government troops arrived to suppress the bandits, bringing with them an even harsher crackdown, akin to a comb finer still. Many wealthy households capable of defending themselves were left in despair. Eventually, even the local officials, driven by greed, cast aside decorum and sent their confidants to approach aristocratic families and wealthy merchants unrelated by marriage. Under the pretense of distributing protective talismans and promising military protection against bandit raids, they demanded compliance. No one was foolish enough to resist, and thus, everyone reluctantly smiled while handing over chests of gold and silver, as if paying to ward off misfortune. Even major banks based in the capital found their promissory notes useless now—only tangible gold and silver would suffice, leaving many to grumble in frustration at the saying, “Officials are like razors, shaving everything clean.”
To reach the Wudi City by the East Sea (East Sea), one had to either take a long detour or pass through Guangling Dao, specifically the easternmost “unofficial path.” Xu Fengnian, now serving as a coachman, had already crossed the border. Along the way, he witnessed several instances of opportunistic profiteering in the lawless borderlands between the western “Chu” and Guangling Dao governed by Liyang’s Prince Zhao Yi. One gang of over thirty bandits was particularly striking—each member rode a horse and wore armor, though their weapons were mostly rusted. Yet, the equipment was unmistakably from Guangling Dao’s old armories, revealing how the Liyang officials who had governed the region for the past twenty years had turned a deaf ear to the people’s suffering, focused solely on extracting wealth.
However, when Xu Fengnian reached the eastern side, the situation improved. Initially, he had traveled on foot. Later, on a mountain path, he encountered a fierce bandit gang chasing down a wealthy family trying to flee the chaos. Most of the family’s guards had already been killed, and Xu Fengnian intervened by slaying several bandits who were about to attack the women and children. He also killed a few others who had lost their senses in the fray, but did not pursue the remaining bandits, letting them escape. A young boy, who held a scholarly title and thus wore the robes of a scholar, stared at Xu Fengnian with a dark expression. Despite being saved by him, the boy offered a reward of a hundred catties of gold for Xu Fengnian to kill all the bandits and avenge his family. Xu Fengnian ignored him. The boy, around thirteen or fourteen years old, was an official juren (a degree in imperial examinations) of the court, though not yet promoted. He had once been considered a prodigy in the region and was naturally cherished by his clan, who had high hopes for him to bring honor to the family. This had bred a sense of arrogance in him. After suffering such a tragedy, the boy, unable to contain his emotions, hurled harsh words at Xu Fengnian, who, being a wandering swordsman of low status, lacked the chivalrous spirit the boy expected. Xu Fengnian, unwilling to quarrel with a child, simply continued on his way. However, the elderly head of the small aristocratic family was a man of integrity. He quickly stepped forward, scolded his grandson for his rudeness, and gifted Xu Fengnian a carriage as a token of gratitude. He also carefully handed over a small stack of silver notes. Originally, the old man had hoped Xu Fengnian would escort them further south to a safer place, but after some discussion, he no longer pressed the matter. In truth, whether it was the carriage or the few hundred taels of silver, they were all external possessions. Moreover, with so many guards and servants having died, the carriages had become burdens, meant to be discarded anyway. Xu Fengnian did not refuse, and thus he now had these possessions. Later on, some small-time bandits and river pirates attempted to harass him, but they were easily driven away. This made Xu Fengnian, who was somewhat distracted, recall many old acquaintances—like the large group of elders and children from Qingcheng Mountain, who were not at all like typical bandits. As for martial heroes, he remembered He Zhu, who had ridden to the Chunshen Lake to deliver a message to the girl Huhu. Xu Fengnian thought that having traveled through the martial world several times, he had seen many so-called female heroes, but when he tallied them up, perhaps only Liu Niran of the Yulong Gang and Zhou Qinhong, whom he met through Gu Dazu, truly fit his ideal image of a female hero. Their martial arts were merely average, and their appearances were not particularly stunning or otherworldly. Had he encountered them earlier in his youth, they would have seemed far from the fairy-like female heroes he had once imagined—those clad in white robes, untouched by worldly affairs, seemingly never needing to eat, drink, sleep, or even defecate. Now, Xu Fengnian would never be so naively idealistic.
At first, Xu Fengnian firmly believed that the restoration of the Xichu was merely Cao Changqing’s solitary effort against the tide, destined to fail in the grand scheme of the world. It would only allow him to temporarily hold a corner of the land, isolated and unsupported, eventually becoming the stepping stone for a new generation of Liyang generals to earn their merits. It would also allow the older generation of generals from the Spring and Autumn era to leave the political stage with one final, brilliant flourish. However, as he journeyed along, he encountered many elderly Xichu exiles who had endured humiliation for over twenty years. Though they remained silent for now, Xu Fengnian knew that the more they endured and the more severely Liyang’s soldiers oppressed them, the less likely it was that the newly established Chu under Cao Changqing would be as weak as many believed.
When the fires of war ignite, many will perish, but inevitably, a few will rise to prominence and carve their names into history. The key question now is whether Xichu or Liyang will produce more such individuals. Xu Fengnian’s intuition told him that in terms of numbers, the latter would prevail. However, Xichu had always been known for producing towering talents. When they finally make their move, they might astonish the world. Perhaps one or two young prodigies would emerge to inherit Cao Changqing’s legacy.
The carriage paused at the northeastern border of Guangling Dao, where all entry and exit points had been sealed off. This was the last hidden exit from Guangling Dao. Many individuals with martial backgrounds and connections used this route to flee to Wudi City for refuge. A trusted general of Prince Zhao Yi guarded this area, likely under his master’s tacit approval, choosing to turn a blind eye to the exodus despite the risk of censure from officials. However, those wishing to leave would not do so without paying a heavy price. Conservatively, Zhao Yi’s Chunsue Building had collected over two million taels of silver within just twenty days. Not to mention the countless antiques, treasures, and calligraphy scrolls, all being loaded onto carts and transported down the Guangling River.
With approximately three thousand elite cavalry of the Zhao family guarding the area, the roads were crowded but orderly. One’s wealth was immediately apparent—those with sufficient silver could secure passage. Song Li, the young and renowned general commanding the Chunsue Building’s three thousand riders, could even arrange for travelers to use the official post roads if they paid enough. Those lacking silver need not despair either, as long as they had daughters of exceptional beauty to offer. It was no secret that Song Li, a famous general known for his refined tastes, had a notorious fondness for women. He cared little for lifeless treasures, no matter how valuable, often giving them away without a second thought. His sole obsession was collecting beautiful women. Despite already having a beauty from the “Yanzhi List” seated beside him, Song Li remained insatiable. Rumors claimed he had over twenty exquisite concubines at home, including exiled princesses from the Spring and Autumn kingdoms, young female martial artists from major sects, and noblewomen who had betrayed their husbands for him. Among them, Liu Jiaolu, ranked sixth on the new Yanzhi List, was the most famous. This delicate woman had suffered a tumultuous fate, passing through many hands before finally escaping the cruel label of “beautiful yet ill-fated.”
Song Li’s origins were always shrouded in mystery, giving the impression that he had risen out of nowhere to become a rising star in Guangling Dao’s military stronghold, the Chunsue Building. Yet, he remained deeply trusted by the feudal prince and was even addressed as a brother by Prince Zhao Biao, the heir. Even more astonishing was how Zhao Biao, a notorious and scandalous royal scion, could maintain composure when faced with Song Li’s harem of beauties, even addressing Liu Jiaolu with the utmost respect as “sister-in-law.” The Chunsue Building was divided into two factions: one aligned with generals like Lu Shengxiang and Zhang Erbao, who had already been promoted to the capital, and another opposing the chief strategist, a man whose unattractive appearance had hindered his career. Yet, Song Li managed to navigate both sides with ease.
Xu Fengnian stayed at an unremarkable inn in a military garrison town. The price had multiplied several times over, costing thirty taels of silver per night, and even then, he couldn’t secure a second-class room. Due to the constant influx of travelers, the bedding, poorly cleaned, carried a strong stench of sweat. Even the horse feed for his carriage horses came at an extra cost, making it more expensive than a regular guest’s meals in other regions. Yet, no one dared to complain. Xu Fengnian’s room was at the end of the second-floor corridor—narrow, dimly lit, and cramped. The initial stack of silver notes he had carried had already been halved in value and spent entirely. Later, he acquired some gold and silver from a bandit gang, enough to cover his travel expenses. If Xu Fengnian wished to reach the now-abandoned Wudi City by the East Sea more swiftly, it would be effortless. However, the timing was not yet right. If he wanted to achieve his goal, arriving at the right moment was better than arriving early, so he chose to take his time. Moreover, he wanted to use this period to observe the lives of the people in Xichu more closely.
At dusk, Xu Fengnian descended to have a simple dinner. After chewing slowly and savoring his meal, he ordered a pot of tea. The waiter claimed it was fresh spring tea from the Chunshen Lake, but the yellowish tea in the cup was barely drinkable. The inn was filled with boisterous conversations from travelers, some drinking wine, others sipping tea. Xu Fengnian noticed that almost none of the exiles from Xichu were heading north, leaving their homeland behind. The Liyang dynasty, vast even before the establishment of feudal lords under the previous emperor, often experienced information blockages due to regional barriers. Yet, certain matters of interest to both the court and the common people spread rapidly through the well-established postal system. For example, the identities of the top three scholars in the imperial examination, which produced only three every three years, were widely known. The martial arts rankings and the Yanzhi List were even more talked about. However, in recent weeks, only two topics had captured the attention of the entire Liyang dynasty: one was when Xichu would rise in rebellion, and the other was when news of the young Prince of Beiliang’s death would arrive. This latter piece of news would be a cause for great celebration. To many commoners, although Beiliang had been ruled by the Xu family for over twenty years, with the death of the “Butcher” Xu Xiao, it would be better to hand it over to Chen Zhibao, who had once governed the region. In the eyes of the public, the new Prince of Beiliang was merely an opportunist who had usurped the throne. Prince Shu Chen Zhibao could govern both regions, ensuring peace in the western front of Liyang, rather than letting the wastrel Xu Fengnian squander the thirty thousand elite cavalry of Beiliang for no reason.
At this moment, the inn was buzzing with discussions about the second topic. After all, most of the patrons were rough, grassroots types. Whether Xichu would rise again or not mattered little to them, as long as they were not caught in the crossfire. However, the mention of Wang Xianzhi, the old monster who had been granted a fief without commanding a single soldier and was “co-recognized as Emperor” with the Liyang emperor, was enough to ignite everyone’s enthusiasm. There was a table of guests in the inn whose demeanor was different from the usual martial artists. They were solemn and exuded an aura of killing. Most of them wore swords, and their styles were consistent. Anyone with a discerning eye could tell that this group held official status. Moreover, several armed attendants stood outside the inn’s entrance, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd with an air of arrogance, as if looking down on everyone like dogs.
At that table were three men and one woman. The woman was quietly eating, occasionally lifting her head. Though her appearance was ordinary, her eyes were uniquely vibrant and captivating. Especially when she turned her gaze, she gained an undeniable charm. Sitting beside her was a short but sturdy man in his thirties. The other two men, one old and one young, both wore swords. The elderly man, dressed in luxurious silk robes, overheard the conversations in the inn and couldn’t help but sneer. His expression was like that of someone from the well looking down on the frog at the bottom—full of disdain.
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