As Xu Fengnian and Yu Dilong returned to the Fu Family caravan, they naturally did not receive warm welcomes. Xu Fengnian offered a few words of apology to Feng Qianxiang, who seized the opportunity to gracefully withdraw without pressing the matter further. Old hands like Feng understood well that on the road, a familiar face could mean a path forward—today someone might seek your help, and tomorrow you might need theirs.
The caravan pressed onward, winding past Mazong Mountain along a long-dried riverbed. Yu Dilong clutched a handful of green needlegrass and caragana, occasionally chewing them for the pitiful trickle of juice they offered. Since becoming a disciple, his master had not taught him any world-shaking martial techniques, only seven breathing methods—six exhalations and one inhalation. His master had half-jokingly remarked that if he diligently practiced this seemingly clumsy method, once reaching mastery, even sleep would become cultivation, and one day he might even breathe thunder. Yu Dilong simply followed instructions, for besides the monotonous rhythm of exhaling and inhaling, there was little else for the boy to do. Xu Fengnian rode astride his horse, occasionally glancing at Yu Dilong’s breathing, though more often lost in distant thoughts.
The Yulong Gang, besides the covert agents of Fushui Bureau who had infiltrated from the beginning, had later welcomed Hong Biao, a senior retainer who had followed Xu Fengnian from Huishan Snow Terrace into Beiliang. Recently, Mi Fengjie, the reclusive master of the Hidden Sword Cavern, had joined with his mastery of the Fingersky technique, securing a place among the honored guests. The female bodyguard Fan Xiaochai also remained hidden, guarding Liu Nirong, who had become known as the most powerful and wealthiest woman in the Beiliang martial world. Of course, the one actually footing the bill for extravagant land and mansion purchases was none other than Xu Fengnian himself. Xu had even moved over a dozen chests of martial arts manuals from Tingchao Pavilion to the Yulong Gang—though mostly second and third-rate techniques, they were enough to make martial artists fight tooth and nail for a place in the gang. Now, the Yulong Gang truly had both prestige and substance, and no one dared to dismiss this tenth-ranked martial sect as a mere rabble anymore. Xu Fengnian did not expect these cautious, self-preserving martial artists to risk their lives for Beiliang, but when war broke out, Beiliang needed a stable rear. With over two thousand members, the Yulong Gang could at least ensure the stability of Lingshou, the granary of Liangzhou.
If the Yulong Gang was merely a flourish, the Fu Family had been a lifeline to Beiliang for twenty years. Led by seven brothers of Fu Zhengsheng’s generation, the Fu Family had quietly scouted every corner of Beiliang’s three provinces, their tracks even reaching the Western Regions in recent years. Through sheer effort, the Fu Family had discovered over eighty percent of Beiliang’s mines. Yet the entire Fu clan puzzled over why, despite many of these mines being easy to open, the Beiliang authorities merely recorded them and sealed the mountains with heavy guards, never initiating extraction. Fu Zhengsheng’s father had once personally discovered a massive iron mine capable of producing 600,000 jin annually—close to nearly a tenth of the entire Liyang Dynasty’s iron yield at the end of the Yonghui era. He had also located a mercury deposit in Ganquan Prefecture, yielding 1,600 jin annually—nearly a third of the empire’s total. Additionally, the three major copper mines of Beiliang—Chengshui Field, Baoxing Field, and Jiannan Pit—all owed their discovery to the Fu Family. Why had Xu Xiao personally attended the funeral of Fu’s elder? That was the reason. In the coming war between Liang and Mang, the battle would not be decided merely by the number of border troops. With Beiliang’s resilience and Beiman’s national strength, both sides understood that victory would not come in one decisive blow. The real contest would be whose reserves could last longer.
Beiliang appeared to have its salt and iron monopolized by local aristocratic families, effectively privatized and rotting from within. Yet Li Yishan had long warned, “Wealth from mountain and marsh dries up quickly when exploited recklessly.” Thus, mountains were sealed and mines left untouched, never reported to the imperial court. Local officials were allowed to pocket profits as a cover, while the government annually purchased necessary materials from outside Beiliang through small, unobtrusive transactions. These covert dealings accumulated over time, drawing little attention. Even if some perceptive officials in the court noticed faint traces, they could not easily accuse Beiliang—after all, Beiliang was far from the imperial capital, and the surrounding prefectures of Youzhou and Lingshou were filled with officials and generals loyal to Gu Jiantang, deeply infiltrated over the past decade. For years, these officials had grown rich in office, leaving with both reputation and riches. Who would not do the same if it benefited their domain? And with such widespread practice, the law could not punish all. When the “Butcher” Xu Xiao was alive, who among the imperial court’s officials dared to challenge him?
The caravan moved slowly against the wind and sand.
Xu Fengnian bit his lip.
Xu Xiao had certainly not left his son with a ruined Beiliang.
He had left behind a Beiliang brimming with military might!
Xu Fengnian slightly turned his gaze and saw Fu Zhengsheng riding toward him, soon matching pace beside him. Looking at Fu’s youthful, guileless face, Xu felt a pang of guilt. Fu’s father had discovered a gold mine west of Fengxiang Garrison, choosing to stay behind to continue surveying while sending a trusted aide back to report. He was killed by a band of marauding horsemen, along with sixteen Fu family members, their bodies never recovered. Fu Zhengsheng, burdened by his family’s legacy, had once been beaten mercilessly by local aristocrats after defending someone in a street dispute, yet the Fu Family never sought justice from Beiliang. The covert agents of Fushui Bureau stationed in Lingshou followed strict codes and would not intervene on behalf of Fu, the third branch’s legitimate heir. Amid the howling wind, Fu Zhengsheng shouted, “Master Xu, we still have ninety li to Qingcang City. We plan to ride through the night. I hope you can endure it.”
Without hesitation, Xu Fengnian nodded, smiling. “Of course, guests follow hosts. My apprentice and I have been greatly assisted by your care on this journey. I hope to treat you all to a drink someday.”
Hearing the respectful term “Master,” Fu Zhengsheng was clearly taken aback. It was an honor rarely used among peers. Moreover, Fu had long abandoned any hope of official career or battlefield glory, dedicating himself instead to continuing his father’s mission of exploring Beiliang’s mountains and rivers. He had never expected anyone outside his family to address him with such respect. A flush of shyness crept onto his face, bringing a rare, genuine smile. Yet to expect him to engage in warm, familiar conversation with a near-stranger was asking too much of a youth untouched by the corruption of officialdom. Still, looking at Xu Fengnian, Fu felt an unfamiliar sincerity in his expression—an expression never seen on the smug, insular faces of Lingshou’s elite, who always looked down on the Fu family with condescension and pity.
Xu Fengnian said, “West of Qingcang Garrison, Lin Yao’s Cai Anshan and Fengxiang’s Ma Liuke, those two local tyrants, have both submitted to the Liuzhou Governor’s Office. They are now nominally the City Governor of Lin Yao and Deputy General of Liuzhou, but they remain under tight surveillance by Beiliang’s army and dare not cause trouble. Your caravan’s journey to Fengxiang should be smoother than expected.”
Fu Zhengsheng, of course, had no idea that nearly a thousand cavalry secretly guarded his caravan. He dared not relax his vigilance but did not wish to reject the kindness outright, so he simply smiled.
After a moment’s silence, Fu suddenly asked, “Forgive my boldness, but Master Xu’s aura is clearly that of a martial cultivator. May I ask, do you practice the sword or the saber?”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “I began with the saber, later I also trained in the sword.”
Fu, perhaps thinking this noble-looking young man was trying to do too much at once, struggled for words. After a long pause, he finally said, “I’ve trained in the saber since childhood, but I’ve never truly mastered it. If we meet again in Lingshou, perhaps we can spar.”
Yu Dilong sneaked a glance, his teeth bared in disbelief.
This guy was actually daring to challenge his master?
Xu Fengnian simply nodded. “Why don’t I see you carrying a blade?”
Fu laughed. “I usually wield a Beiliang saber, but private carrying is forbidden now, so I’ve hidden a common short blade in my luggage.”
With that, Fu ran out of conversation and returned to leading the caravan through the night. By midnight, they reached Qingcang City’s outskirts. Fu rode up once more. “Master Xu, we won’t enter the city. Farewell here.”
Xu Fengnian clasped his fists. “Safe travels.”
Fu hesitated. “The city enforces a curfew at night. How will you enter? Though patrols are stationed here, this borderland only recently submitted to Beiliang. Our caravan can’t spare anyone…”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “No worries. I have proper means.”
Fu couldn’t help but admire him. Beiliang’s border military law was notoriously strict, nothing like the lax forces in Lingshou. Thus, Fu bid farewell without further words.
Not long after the caravan bypassed Qingcang, unusual hoofbeats echoed. Fu Zhengsheng grew anxious, drawing his short blade while scanning the darkness. Zhao Jiabao and Feng Qianxiang also wore grim expressions. One experienced member of the caravan crouched to listen, reporting over thirty riders. In this lawless borderland, anyone mounted was a deadly threat—horsemen skilled enough to rival Beiliang’s elite cavalry in one-on-one combat. Though the Fu caravan had over a hundred people, and Zhao and Feng were martial experts, a fight would surely bring casualties. Worse still, drawing attention might invite pursuit from larger bandit gangs, and survival to Fengxiang Garrison was uncertain. However, a scout suddenly galloped back, beaming. “Young Master, it’s a troop of Longxiang cavalry—it’s our own people!”
Relief washed over everyone. The Longxiang Army, personally commanded by the Young Prince, was Beiliang’s elite of elites. Last year, they had crushed several Beiman border garrisons like a strongman bullying a maiden.
The Longxiang troop halted a hundred paces away, with only one squad leader advancing on foot. This unexpected formality puzzled the Fu caravan. Even if this renowned cavalry unit was patrolling outside the city, why treat common travelers with such solemnity? Though puzzled, Fu, Zhao, and Feng hurriedly dismounted to greet him. The burly, armored squad leader not only wore a new Beiliang saber at his waist but carried another in hand. He addressed the three Fu leaders. “Who is Fu Zhengsheng?”
Fu stepped forward respectfully. “I am.”
The squad leader bore a jagged scar across his face. To everyone’s surprise, he actually managed a faint smile. Striding forward, he extended the saber with both hands. “Our Prince…”
He caught himself before uttering the second word. “Our Master says, as thanks for your escort, this saber is for Fu Young Master.”
Fu accepted the saber, a weapon rarely seen even among many generals in Lingshou. The squad leader grinned. “Our Master says you may wear it freely. Back in Lingshou it’s complicated, but in Liuzhou, no one will dare question it.”
Fu stood stunned. The squad leader mistook his silence for fear, worried his words lacked authority. Known for his temper in the Longxiang Army, he nearly exploded but held himself back, forcing a “gentle” expression. Yet even Zhao Jiabao and Feng Qianxiang felt a chilling aura, let alone Fu facing him directly, who half-expected the man to draw his blade and kill him on the spot. Behind them, thirty silent, battle-hardened riders stood in formation, their armor gleaming under the moonlight. Though the Fu caravan believed they could handle an equal number of bandits, they knew they had no chance against a charge by this elite unit. After delivering the saber, the squad leader turned and left, muttering something about Fu being too hesitant and indecisive. Fu and the others barely caught his words as he departed.
Once back on horseback, the entire troop vanished in an instant.
Coming and going like the wind.
Zhao Jiabao turned to Feng Qianxiang, whispering, “Brother Qianxiang, does he look a bit like the Longxiang Army’s deputy commander, ‘Scarface’ Wang Lingbao?”
Feng Qianxiang chuckled dryly. “Impossible, right?”
Fu Zhengsheng mounted his horse, the saber hanging by his side. He smiled. “Impossible! Uncle Zhao, Uncle Feng, let’s go.”
Zhao Jiabao laughed bitterly. “Right. If it were really the legendary Wang Lingbao, who once beheaded seventeen Spring and Autumn generals, with his temper, we wouldn’t even survive one hand.”
On Qingcang’s city wall, the squad leader approached Xu Fengnian, bowing low. “Reporting, my Lord, the saber has been delivered. I’ve also dispatched eight hundred riders to follow them, reinforcements will join along the way. If not a single man dies, not even a horse falls, then you can use my head as a chamber pot!”
Xu Fengnian nodded, murmuring, “ It can be said that， Besides you all， It was precisely the Fu family that provided Beiliang with the means to fight the Northern Barbarians to the bitter end.。”
The squad leader lifted his head, gazing at the silhouette.
Unlike the old General’s stooped posture in his later years.
But Wang Lingbao clearly remembered that in his prime, wherever the General stood, it was like a pillar of heaven and earth!
Wang Lingbao fiercely rubbed his face.
Xu Fengnian turned and smiled. “Deputy Commander Wang, if I recall correctly, you joined the Beiliang army at fourteen, in the vanguard unit? You’ve fought for nearly thirty years now, haven’t you?”
Wang Lingbao grew flustered, his face reddening. “My Lord, I’m not old! Thirty years of war—it’s not like I’ve had enough yet!”
Xu Fengnian gave him a sharp look.
Wang Lingbao instinctively shrank his neck. Dammit, this young Prince had even killed Wang Xianzhi. If he backed down a little, was that really so shameful?
Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve heard reliable intelligence that Fengxiang’s Ma Liuke still harbors treasonous thoughts, secretly colluding with Beiman.”
Wang Lingbao’s eyes flared, slipping into his habitual cursing. “Damn that Ma Liuke! With just a few thousand rabble, not even enough for any of my lieutenants to bother with…”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “So, are you going or not?”
Wang Lingbao instinctively rubbed his hands, greedily pushing further. “How big’s the fight?”
Xu Fengnian said, “It’s said that Fengxiang’s Ma Liuke still harbors treasonous thoughts, secretly colluding with Beiman.”
Wang Lingbao’s eyes flared, slipping into his habitual cursing. “Damn that Ma Liuke! With just a few thousand rabble, not even enough for any of my lieutenants to bother with…”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “So, are you going or not?”
Wang Lingbao wiped his mouth, a blood-streaked “innocent” grin spreading. “Hell yeah, why not? Even a mosquito’s leg is meat. Might as well eat it.”
Xu Fengnian waved his hand.
Wang Lingbao sprinted down the city steps.
He turned once more to glance at that silhouette.
Somehow, it felt as if the old General stood there again.
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