Xu Fengnian returned quietly to Qingliang Mountain. As Fan Xiaochai had intuitively predicted, the Northern Liang had indeed begun marching southward, dividing their forces into three routes, each targeting the Liang, You, and Liu provinces. This was vastly different from the Northern Liang’s original expectations, because an unexpected power grab by the obese Dong Zhuo had placed him in a prominent position as the Grand King of the Southern Court. With the Grand King of the Northern Court having remained vacant since Xu Huainan’s death, Dong Zhuo, previously not even considered a regional governor, had risen to be second only to the Emperor himself. Xu Fengnian could not be certain whether this invasion was a carefully orchestrated strategy by Taiping Decree to deal with Northern Liang, or merely Dong Zhuo’s chaotic and deliberate interference. Often, people say that remaining steadfast amidst change is the clever man’s simple approach, but when it comes to military matters that determine the ultimate fate of two empires, it’s like Masters crossing blades— Master pitting their skills against each other—not only comparing inner strength but also testing each other’s cunning and traps. It is especially important not to sacrifice the big picture for small gains. History is filled with examples of victories in a series of battles that ultimately led to the loss of the entire war. One doesn’t need to look far into ancient records; recent history from the Spring and Autumn period provides ample evidence.
Xu Fengnian’s headache stemmed from the fact that Northern Liang’s resources were far inferior to those of the Northern Liang. Empress Murong could confidently deploy forces on three fronts—sending Tuoba Pusa to suppress the great chieftains of the Northern Court while using elite cavalry from the Southern Court to provoke Northern Liang. She could even spare large numbers of troops to station on the eastern front, eyeing the borderlands of Liang and Liao, which had been carefully fortified by Gu Jiantang. Of course, even a fool could see that the final standoff on the eastern front was merely a show of force, with all three parties—Liyang, Liang, and Northern Liang—fully aware of the pretense. Otherwise, the three trade towns at the northern gate of Ji Province would not have remained open.
Sitting alone in the pavilion at the center of Tingchao Lake, Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but smile bitterly. To force the Tai’an City government to relax the ban on transporting grain to Liang, he had to send troops to quell rebellions and pressure the imperial court, which in turn responded by openly discarding all pretense. Trade along the northern border of Ji Province had even become more active than usual. The once despised Yuan Ting-shan, whom Xu had once vowed to flay alive, had risen rapidly in power after being cast into the borderlands by his adoptive father, Gu Jiantang. Now, Yuan commanded four thousand veteran soldiers of the northern Ji region as the commander of the Daoma Cavalry, overseeing more than twenty military posts and fortresses. He also held administrative authority over three commanderies, and his territory was increasingly encroaching upon Northern Liang. Yuan’s power was immense, almost equivalent to half a governor combined with a powerful general. This was clearly a silent mockery by the Liyang Zhao clan toward Xu Fengnian, the Prince of Northern Liang.
Especially after the sudden death of Li Huoli, the eldest son of Yan Fortress in Ji Province, Yuan Ting-shan’s rise to prominence became even more pronounced. He was soon to become the son-in-law of Yan Fortress, marrying the famous beauty known as “Li’s Falcon.” Moreover, Yuan had developed a close relationship with Zhao Wu, the eldest prince stationed in Liaodong. His influence had grown so much that even the aristocrats of Tai’an City no longer viewed him simply as Gu Jiantang’s adopted son. In just two years, Yuan had transformed from a stray dog into a shining star in the empire’s military ranks. Some even went so far as to elevate him to the status of Xu Fengnian’s destined nemesis.
Sitting on a long bench in the pavilion, Xu Fengnian held a handful of smooth, round go stones, which had gradually warmed from his touch, no longer cold.
His thoughts drifted to Tai’an City, the place he had both hated and feared as a child. He smiled, recalling how he had once thought Qingliang Mountain was the tallest in the world, only to discover later the grandeur of the Wudang Mountains’ eighty-one peaks, and even greater landscapes beyond Northern Liang. As his experiences grew, many deeply ingrained thoughts from his youth had naturally faded.
After Qi Yanglong, the Grand Chancellor of the Shangyin Academy, entered Tai’an City, even the most obtuse officials began to sense the coming storm. Although Qi was temporarily only serving in a minor capacity at the Imperial Academy, his rank was far below that of the junior chancellor, Jin Lanting. What was even more puzzling was that the Imperial Academy oversaw seven schools, and only recently had a school of martial studies been added after Gu Jiantang resigned as Minister of War. Qi Yanglong, whose scholarly reputation was as lofty as the heavens, had chosen to serve as the supervisor of this most insignificant martial studies school. In terms of rank, he barely reached the level of a lecturer at the National Academy, and his position was far below the influential officials of the National Academy. Yet in reality, those lecturers who once considered themselves part of the intellectual elite were not even worthy of polishing Qi Yanglong’s shoes.
During this time, not only the nearly one hundred officials from the six schools under the Imperial Academy led by Jin Lanting, but also the tens of thousands of students, were in a frenzy. Those from elite families scrambled to transfer from the National Academy to the martial studies school overnight. Those from moderately wealthy families didn’t even need to beg to enter the martial studies school—their elders had already begun bribing officials with silver. While giving silver might seem vulgar, the Liyang Dynasty was thriving, creating a golden age unseen in a thousand years. The capital was teeming with the wealthy, and who didn’t have a few rare calligraphic scrolls or paintings? Especially those marked as forgeries by someone—these were the best tools for gaining favor with the Ministry of Rites’ officials. No matter how much the people of the capital cursed that young man from Northern Liang, when it came to authenticating genuine works, his discerning eye was widely respected. Anything he dismissed as a “forgery” was almost certainly the real thing. Moreover, although the young man bore the surname Xu rather than Zhao, he had now become a legitimate regional prince and had even defeated the invincible Wang Laoguai. Any painting or calligraphy bearing his seal—whether square or round—was guaranteed to fetch an astronomical price in the capital.
Xu Fengnian had little emotional reaction to this matter. What concerned him more was the unfolding “Dragon and Deer Struggle” conflict. According to secret reports, this Grand Chancellor, praised as being worth a million soldiers, was not merely making small moves within the martial studies school of the Imperial Academy. Under the Emperor’s orders, he had begun compiling a new canon of Confucian classics, even taking on the role of interpreting the sacred meanings of Confucian sages for the Zhao clan. This appeared to be a mere enhancement to the imperial examinations, but in reality, it was a challenge to the foundation of Zhang Lu. This time, Qi Yanglong’s compilation of the classics revealed the Emperor’s seriousness through the choice of his two assistants—Yao Baifeng, the master of Neo-Confucianism and junior chancellor of the Imperial Academy, and Yan Jiexi, a senior scholar and royal relative. These two were merely Qi Yanglong’s assistants. Was Qi Yanglong really just compiling a few scrolls of books? He was, in fact, setting the rules for scholars for the next few hundred years.
Xu Fengnian tightened the go stones in his palm and muttered to himself, “It’s not so bad if Bi Yanyer loses—he was always hostile to Northern Liang anyway. But if Qi Yanglong can suppress Bi Yanyer, Northern Liang’s situation will only get worse. Can we really hope that this Qi Sage, destined to be enshrined in the Imperial Temple, will look favorably upon Northern Liang? Master Wang, who lost the debate with the Immortal, once said that Qi Yanglong harbored deep resentment toward all regional princes, including Northern Liang, and declared, ‘Kingship is acceptable, but territorial division is not.’ He’s clearly a tutor fit for an emperor. However, compared to his student Xun Ping, Qi Yanglong is undoubtedly more cunning and experienced, knowing what not to do and when to act. Whether it’s about cultivating oneself or benefiting the world, it’s all up to him. First the Northern Liang’s Taiping Decree, then Qi Yanglong—can’t we have fewer opponents like this?”
Xu Fengnian sighed, returning his gaze. Tai’an City was never free of worries, and the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion beneath his feet was no tranquil scene of moonlight on a quiet pond.
Everyone on Qingliang Mountain knew that a powerful new figure had arrived—a scholar from Luming Prefecture in the Jiangnan Circuit, previously unknown, who had suddenly become the Deputy Governor of Northern Liang. This was an unprecedented high-ranking position among the sixteen circuits of the Liyang Dynasty, likely ranking between third and second grade. Yet the Zhao clan in Tai’an City turned a blind eye, neither reprimanding nor acknowledging it, as if determined to let Northern Liang continue its chaotic experiments. It was said that Wang Luting, the head of the Jinlu Weaving Bureau in Lingzhou, was greatly troubled, unsure how to sew a proper official robe for the “Deputy Governor,” uncertain whether the embroidered badge should be a first-grade crane or a second-grade peacock. Such anomalies were nothing new to Qingliang Mountain. Previously, two even younger scholars, Xu Beizhi from the aristocracy of Northern Liang and the common-born Chen Xiliang, had become the governors of Lingzhou and Qingcang City in Liuzhou, respectively. Another sudden rise of a scholar from the Song family was nothing extraordinary. Moreover, it was said that this man had once competed with the current Prime Minister-in-waiting, Yin Maochun, for the title of top scholar during the Yonghui era when the pillars of the dynasty were emerging. This illustrious figure had started far ahead of Xu and Chen. The atmosphere of Northern Liang was changing, and the status of scholars was gradually rising, becoming an unstoppable trend. Thus, the sudden appearance of Deputy Governor Song Dongming was met with little gossip. Xu and Chen had faced considerable hardship in their early days. Fortunately, even the stable boys and cooks on Qingliang Mountain had seen the world and were not overly curious about Song Dongming’s arrival. After entering this magnificent palace at the northwest corner of the empire, Song did not behave like Xu Beizhi, who roamed freely and lived carelessly, nor did he resemble Chen Xiliang, who rarely appeared in public. Without a proper official robe, he wore a simple scholar’s robe and lived in a quiet courtyard on the mountainside. He deliberately gathered a group of previously overlooked advisors and guests in the palace. The courtyard was named Hua Gui, which sounded similar to “Huai Gui” (with sinister intentions), carrying an ominous connotation that easily evoked the phrase “with hidden intentions.” Despite its excellent view, where one could see half of Liangzhou City on a clear day, the courtyard had remained abandoned for years. Song chose this place as his residence. The palace servants only knew that he never visited the Wutong Courtyard, known for its “swallows and nightingales,” but frequently had female officials from the Wutong Courtyard, who wielded the power of red ink, traveling between the two places. Strangers continuously entered Hua Gui Courtyard, some leaving and others staying in the nearby residences on the mountainside. This naturally sparked much speculation.
Xu Fengnian fell into deep thought. Song Dongming was not only to be used but should be given significant responsibilities. However, compared to the relatively straightforward Xu Beizhi and Chen Xiliang, Song was far more complex to manage.
With the war between Liang and Northern Liang imminent, it was like holding a handful of excellent go stones now. Northern Liang also held a strong hand—its generals were numerous and brilliant: Yan Wenluan, Jin Zhegu Zhou Kang, Gu Dazu, He Zhonghu, Chen Yunchui, Chu Lushan, Yuan Zuozong, Ning Emei, Wang Lingbao, Li Mofan, and others, all outstanding talents, seemingly inexhaustible. But what about the civil officials? Especially those who could make Liyang envious—there were very few, let alone compared to the large number of loyal ministers who emerged like bamboo shoots after rain during the Yonghui era. This was why the Liyang court liked to mock Northern Liang for imitating without understanding, claiming that Xu Xiao was crippled, and so was the entire Northern Liang bureaucracy, with an imbalance between civil and military officials, unable to achieve greatness. War was not merely about brave warriors willing to die—it especially required large-scale battles involving tens of thousands of troops. Civil officials must first avoid being a burden, and if they could work in harmony with the military, many lives could be saved.
Xu Fengnian lifted his head, frowning.
From the foot of Qingliang Mountain, fish-shaped crossbows were being fired into the sky, becoming increasingly dense as they approached Tingchao Lake, where the Prince of Northern Liang was resting. After Xu Fengnian personally brought back the heads of Xu Huainan and the fifth Mo of the Tieshan Mountain, any attempt to assassinate him at the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion had completely ceased. After all, those Rivers and Lakes Mighty Traveler Rivers and Lakes Master Rivers and Lakes Personage Rivers and Lakes Heroes Rivers and Lakes Wandering Swordsman Rivers and Lakes Righteous Warrior Rivers and Lakes Children Rivers and Lakes Heroic Passion Rivers and Lakes Loyalty Rivers and Lakes Grudges and Vendettas Rivers and Lakes Love and Hatred Rivers and Lakes Wind and Rain Rivers and Lakes Perilous Shadows Rivers and Lakes Light and Shadow Rivers and Lakes Cold and Warm Rivers and Lakes Multitudes of Forms Rivers and Lakes Time-worn Rivers and Lakes Wind and Clouds Rivers and Lakes Ever-Shifting Rivers and Lakes Perilous Path Rivers and Lakes Strange Encounter Rivers and Lakes Legend Rivers and Lakes Whispers of Secrets Rivers and Lakes Anecdote Rivers and Lakes Tales of the Past Rivers and Lakes Grudges and Vendettas Rivers and Lakes Love and Hatred Rivers and Lakes Loyalty Rivers and Lakes Heroic Passion Rivers and Lakes Children Rivers and Lakes Heroes Rivers and Lakes Wandering Swordsman Rivers and Lakes Righteous Warrior Rivers and Lakes Master Rivers and Lakes Mighty Traveler who had managed to rise to prominence were not fools willing to throw themselves into a trap. Especially after Xu Fengnian’s legendary duel with Wang Xianzhi, which established him as the supreme martial artist, many hidden agents of the Spring and Autumn Noble House who had long been embedded in Northern Liang quietly left along with the wealthy and noble families. They were truly disheartened. Xu Fengnian couldn’t imagine who could completely conceal their aura and reach the foot of Qingliang Mountain, then suddenly attack the Prince’s Mansion, even evading Xu Fengnian’s ability to clearly detect their faint shadow. Logically speaking, the Zhao clan would want him to confront the Northern Liang, allowing him to die, but not too soon. As for the Northern Liang side, Hong Jingyan and Murong Baoding had recently appeared in Liuzhou, so it was unlikely that anyone else would recklessly come alone to provoke him. Tuoba Pusa had the strength, but the Northern Liang’s military god preferred to achieve glory on the battlefield in a straightforward manner.
Just as Xu Fengnian was puzzled, he saw a figure leap from the Tingchao Pavilion not far away.
For a moment, Xu Fengnian was lost in thought.
Before he had gone up the mountain to practice Blade Technique, he had brought back the White Fox, during a heavy snowstorm in winter. The White Fox “walked with Blade” on the lake, and at that time, Xu Fengnian truly believed that was the most formidable Blade Technique in the world. Looking back now, the White Fox’s Blade Power, Blade Intent, and Blade Technique were still superior, but compared to the Thunder in the Palm he had later seen between Gu Jiantang and Cao Changqing in Tai’an City, there was still a gap in skill. However, the White Fox was the first confirmed martial arts master Xu Fengnian had encountered during his three-year journey. After that, Lao Huang, the old swordsman who emerged from the lake, Master Wang Chonglou, the old Taoist priest, and the old man with the sheepskin cloak gradually appeared in his life. Each had their own unique charm, inspiring admiration and reverence for the Rivers and Lakes.
The White Fox, carrying a single blade and stepping out from the pavilion, passed by a towering figure at a hundred zhang distance beyond the lake pavilion.
Xu Fengnian stood up. After a slight, nearly imperceptible hesitation from the assassin, he immediately recognized the identity of the figure—an elder he had absolutely not expected to see.
An unnamed swordsman with a passion for devouring swords—Sui Xiegu.
It was precisely this old man’s act of lending a sword that had saved Xu Fengnian’s life from Han Diaosi, the human-cat.
Xu Fengnian stood at the exit of the pavilion. Before he even stepped down the stairs, the sword-devouring ancestor arrived near the pavilion. The one-armed old man, who had once exchanged arms with Li Chungan, lifted the sleeve of his severed arm—it had been cut short by a large portion—and clicked his tongue, saying, “At Gu Jiantang’s age, one shouldn’t possess such a sharp sword technique. A single slash is about equal to Gu Jiantang eight years ago. If two slashes were combined, who could withstand it?”
Xu Fengnian stepped down the stairs and smiled, “Junior greets Master Sui.”
The old man spoke directly, “I won’t dwell on your family’s hospitality. You, young man, still owe this old man a life. First, give me seven or eight fine swords to whet my appetite. As for how to repay me later, we’ll calculate that slowly. You took Wang Xianzhi’s treasures from the Wudi City, so I suppose this old man is in for a feast.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled, “Unfortunately, the master of the sword tomb intercepted us earlier in the Huzhou region, destroying seven or eight out of ten of those famous swords. However, since you, Senior, have come personally, there are still swords in our collection. The best ones will always be reserved for you. Stay a day, and you’ll feast for a day.”
The old man glanced at the young man he had once looked down upon and laughed heartily, “You, young man, are the kind of person no one can really dislike. Though you’re no angel, you’re straightforward and generous.”
The old man stepped into the lake pavilion, and Xu Fengnian followed behind, quietly asking, “Didn’t Deng Ta’ao accompany you to Beiliang?”
Sui Xiegu rolled his eyes, “He has no interest in getting involved in courtly disputes. Same with me. But Datang Qingjing, that woman, is the only demon in my heart. I’ve been thinking about her for eighty years. Now that she’s come to Beiliang, I naturally must keep an eye on her. If she ever strays, this old man will be ready to kill her immediately.”
Xu Fengnian could only helplessly watch from the sidelines, for such entanglements that had lasted longer than an ordinary lifetime were beyond his interference.
Soon, Xu received the news. The White Fox not only left the building but also the city. He carried only the spring thunder blade, decisively departing with Wangsheng, who carried the Xiudong blade and seven other swords strapped to his back, heading for Beiman. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye. This left Xu Fengnian feeling a bit melancholy.
After seating himself heavily, Sui Xiegu dropped a bombshell with one sentence: “With Xie Feiyu’s help, capturing the small and large dragons of Shu, Chen Zhibao will soon catch up to Wang Xianzhi.”
The old man grinned mischievously, “Xu Fengnian, do you have a fated enmity with those whose names contain the character ‘zhi’?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head with a bitter smile, but inwardly startled, he slowly nodded.
He recalled the most hidden shadow of the Qin Dynasty eight hundred years ago. Though his name did not contain ‘zhi,’ it was Cao Zhi.
The old man had merely spoken casually, not truly concerned about such tangled fates.
Xu Fengnian, his expression somewhat darkened, leaned against a pavilion pillar and closed his eyes.
Then his expression visibly improved. He stood again, gazing into the distance.
Sui Xiegu, whose two long white eyebrows stretched far beyond his face, extended two fingers and twirled one of the eyebrows, watching the young man’s shifting moods, gradually falling into deep thought.
From the drizzly streams and gentle winds of the southeast to the northwestern borders of yellow sands and rough winds, a master and apprentice walked thousands of miles, finally approaching Beiliang, nearing the incense-burning Wudang Mountain. In the late days of the Xiangfu era’s first year, they would climb the mountain amidst heavy snowfall.
At this moment, the young master carried his exhausted young apprentice, walking slowly.
“Master, once I become a Daoist priest, do I have to memorize many scriptures?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Master, Master Xu said you are the greatest priest on the mountain. Since I am your apprentice, I must cultivate diligently and follow the Dao. I’m afraid I won’t do well.”
“To live in this world and find peace in any situation is itself cultivation—and a blessing.”
“Master, I don’t understand. What does ‘finding peace in any situation’ really mean?”
“It means when you are tired, you stop and rest. When you’re no longer tired, you continue walking. We Daoists seek the Dao not in the heavens, but right beneath our feet.”
“Master, then let me walk by myself. I’m not tired anymore.”
“It’s fine. This master will carry you a bit longer.”
“But Master, isn’t that going against the idea of finding peace in any situation?”
“Yu Fu, remember this: some things in life are even more important than cultivation.”
“Hmm?”
“For example, as you walk along the road, you see someone, and even if you’re not tired, you no longer wish to walk. Then you can stop and watch her. It may seem to defy the Dao, but according to my master’s younger uncle, when emotions and circumstances flow naturally, it does not violate the Dao. Whether I follow the Dao or not, why must others determine it for me?”
“Sigh, Master, it sounds like being a Daoist priest is really difficult. But Master, you also have an uncle?”
“Of course I have an uncle. And my uncle has his own uncle too. In the future, there will be people on the mountain calling you ‘uncle’ and ‘great-uncle.’”
“Master, look, there’s a tree over there with red leaves.”
“Then let’s stop and take a look?”
“Okay!”
Li Yufu, the Wudang Daoist, put down his apprentice Yu Fu, holding his hand as they both looked up at the tree of glowing red leaves.
Autumn trees are like women in red robes.
Divination dares not predict the future, for the world is ever-changing. Emotion dares not delve too deeply, for fear of dreams that vanish like mist.
Li Yufu lowered his head, looking at the child with a dazed gaze.
Little Master Uncle, must you really dream for three hundred more years?
Li Yufu glanced at the heavens and earth, his eyes resolute.
When people seek the Dao, they seem always to seek the Heavenly Dao.
Yet beneath their feet, everyone has their own great Dao to walk—but it has been forgotten.
Even the Heavenly Dao has its limits, and the Celestials sit high, calling themselves Immortals.
But the Great Dao is endless.
Why must one sit high above?
Li Yufu smiled.
Little Master Uncle, before you took rebirth, you told me not to follow your path. I’ve long struggled to understand.
Now, I finally do.
Li Yufu released the child’s hand, folded his hands slowly, and bowed three times. The first bow honored his parents and teachers, the second the heavens and earth, the third his own great Dao within his heart.
Across the entire Central Plains, thunder rolled silently in the sky. Yet strangely, not a single peal of thunder fell into the human world.
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