After entering the border of Ji Zhou, Xu Fengnian applied a face mask crafted by the southern witch Shu Xiu, a skillful artifact that had aided him during his covert journey into the northern wilderness. The four riders, crossing borders, were already equipped by the intelligence bureau with four flawless travel permits. Now, as the aristocrats of Beiliang scattered like ants whose nest had been disturbed by a child, the group of four attracted little attention.
Fan Xiao chai knew that Xu Fengnian was heading to Hengshui City in Ji Bei to meet Yu Luan Dao and Wei Jing Tang. However, despite their relentless journey day and night, they did not take the shortest route but instead headed straight into the heart of Ji Zhou, eventually arriving at the ancient city of Da Zhan, built during the late Baohua era of the Da Feng Dynasty.
Xu Fengnian did not rush into the city but halted on the road outside its gates, gazing at the silent, towering walls with a complex expression. Once the secondary capital of the old Northern Han, the city was filled with aristocrats and officials. When Xu Fengnian’s father, Xu Xiao, a general bearing the title “Zheng” (Conqueror), led his iron cavalry against the Northern Han, the entire Ji Zhou was trampled into ruin, except for Da Zhan, which narrowly escaped destruction. As the army approached, the city faced impending doom. On that fateful night, countless scholars drank and sang beneath the moon, and the scent of wine could reportedly be smelled three miles outside the city walls. Thus arose the later historical anecdote: “Three Hundred Han Ministers, Drinking to Death in One Night.”
Fan Xiao chai had suffered from the fall of her homeland and family since childhood. Yet, as a descendant of the loyal and valiant Fan clan, even during her years of exile, she had mostly lived in relative peace. She had once resided in Da Zhan for over half a year, living comfortably, enjoying lantern festivals and spring outings. At that time, she still harbored many innocent dreams—if the Northern Han had survived, she might have lived a life of luxury, marrying a noble youth of equal status, growing old together in mutual support. Her grandfather, father, and countless uncles would not have perished on the battlefield, leaving her utterly alone. If she had not later been recruited by the Zhao Gou, the Fan family would have had no one left to honor their ancestors during Qingming.
Mi Fengjie, devoted to martial cultivation, lacked such sentimental reflections. His sword case behind him was wrapped in cloth, and he bore no air of a grand master—merely resembling a rigid old servant unfamiliar with worldly affairs.
Xu Fengnian softly said, “Let’s enter the city,” and the four rode toward the gates. Except for Fan Xiao chai, whose beauty drew lingering glances from the guards, no trouble arose. After entering from the southern gate, Xu Fengnian led them northward through the city with practiced ease, passing through alleys and streets. Fan Xiao chai couldn’t help but be surprised—how could Xu Fengnian know the layout of Da Zhan so well?
Ultimately, the four dismounted at Qingzhu Tavern, a bustling establishment in the northern part of the city. The tavern was packed, with barely a chair to spare downstairs. The innkeeper was no better, greedily leading their horses to the stable while ignoring the guests thereafter, assuming the four outsiders would wait patiently for their meal. With no other choice, they waited by the counter stacked with bamboo slips, where Xu Fengnian idly picked up one. It bore the names and prices of dishes, all exorbitant—nearly rivaling the prices of the capital. Truly, the entire tavern was filled with fools ready to be fleeced, now joined by four more.
As Xu Fengnian admired the elegant calligraphy on the bamboo slips, he caught sight of the sharp-eyed young waiter heading upstairs. Xu Fengnian smiled knowingly. Most likely, the boy had recognized the horses’ origins. Before leaving Youzhou, the intelligence bureau had replaced their Youzhou warhorses with Hezhou mounts, and upon entering Ji Zhou, they had switched again to superior Jina cavalry steeds. Xu Fengnian noticed the boy’s suspicious behavior, and so did Mi Fengjie and Fan Xiao chai, who sensed something unusual about Qingzhu Tavern. Especially Fan Xiao chai, recently promoted to a high-ranking agent of the intelligence bureau, exuded a hidden bloodthirsty aura beneath her timid appearance.
Mi Fengjie cast a disdainful glance at her. A woman of such beauty serving as a spy or assassin was one thing, but to take pleasure in killing—and often in cruel ways—was another. Fan Xiao chai shot him a provocative look, further fueling Mi Fengjie’s suppressed urge to kill. If not for Xu Fengnian’s presence, and the eight legendary swords hidden in the sword case behind him, Mi Fengjie would have torn the woman apart without hesitation.
Inside the tavern, many wealthy patrons were feigning drunkenness to speak truths, shouting, “Boss! Come pour us a drink! Don’t worry, I’m a cultured man—I only drink, I don’t eat people!”
“Xu lady, why have we never seen your husband? What a bastard! Doesn’t he care how hard it is for you on cold nights?”
“Shopkeeper, I’ve eaten here over a dozen times—enough to buy the top courtesan in Da Zhan! Yet you won’t even let me touch her? What kind of business is this?”
Not all the men downstairs were crude and vulgar. Among them were scholars in green robes, mostly young men of age, enduring the coarse language with visible discomfort. In recent years, the state of Ji Zhou had deteriorated, and the status of scholars had declined. Had this happened a few years ago, they would have stood up and cursed the ruffians into silence, even if they dared not fight back. But now, Ji Zhou was in turmoil. First, General Yang Shenxing, the stabilizing force of Ji Zhou, had taken all the veteran soldiers away. Then came Yuan Tingshan, an outsider who seized power, becoming the new overlord. Not only was he the son-in-law of the great general Gu Jiantang, but he also abducted a woman from the Li family of Yanbao, gaining control over all martial sects and gangs in Ji Zhou. Yuan Tingshan swiftly crushed all resistance, making life unbearable for the local factions. Now, news had spread that the Northern Wei had launched a massive cavalry invasion, and the city of Yin Yao on the Ji Bei border had already fallen.
The only good news from Ji Zhou was the exoneration of the Han family. The current emperor personally issued an edict posthumously granting the title “Wu Xiang” to the Han family’s patriarch, Han Beidu. This was no ordinary honor—unlike the common “Zhong” (Loyal) titles like Zhong Ding or Zhong Lie, the “Wu” (Martial) titles were the highest, and “Xiang” ranked fifth among them. Since the founding of the Liyang dynasty, the imperial court had always favored scholars over warriors, except for the exceptional case of Xu Xiao. Even the great general Gu Jiantang’s posthumous title was likely to be “Wu Ning”—a rare honor. Thus, the emperor’s recognition of the Han family, who had once obeyed the emperor’s command to die, was extraordinary.
Even more uplifting was the rumor that before the Han family’s exoneration, a surviving heir had emerged. With his appearance, tales spread of a heroic saga: the eldest grandson of the Han patriarch had not died because two loyal retainers—first, a devoted guest scholar, and second, a martial master indebted to the Han family—had secretly taken him away. Before dying during their escape, the guest scholar left the words: “The Han family treated me as a national hero, and I shall repay them as such.” Though his name remained unknown, the martial master was a legendary figure from twenty years ago, known as Hou Wanhu, nicknamed “Ten-Thousand Household Marquis.” Once a commander in the Northern Han army, he had declared war on Xu Xiao and vanished soon after, only to reappear years later in secret, rescuing the Han heir. He was now reportedly imprisoned in Yanbao’s underground iron prison, revealing how long the Han family had endured in silence, and how long this hero had been hidden from the world.
During this time, countless people visited the Li family of Yanbao under various pretexts. Only when Yuan Tingshan stationed heavily armed cavalry at Yanbao’s gates did the chaos subside.
At the top of the stairs, a graceful figure appeared briefly before turning back and vanishing. The sharp-eyed men downstairs erupted in jeers, pounding tables and clinking bowls. It was the tavern keeper’s wife, Xu, offering a fleeting glimpse behind her lute. The wealthy men, never short of coin, refused to let her go without more, shouting and jeering wildly. The young scholars, unable to bear it any longer, exchanged angry glances with the rude men. Some merely rolled their eyes, others spat on the floor, and a few made crude gestures toward the scholars.
Oddly enough, while the tavern keeper’s wife was indeed beautiful, she was not breathtakingly so. Yet, both rough men and refined scholars found her increasingly appealing. The former admired her voluptuous curves and flirtatious eyes, while the latter found charm in her quiet moments, her noble bearing, or her apparent favor toward scholars, speculating that she might be a lost daughter of a Northern Han noble family.
The true reason the men dared only to flirt with words, and why Qingzhu Tavern thrived, was simple: the Han heir, now promoted to commander of the southern pass by imperial decree, was her adopted younger brother!
The young waiter, puzzled yet smiling, led the four upstairs. Xu Fengnian tossed him a silver coin, and the boy’s smile widened as he bowed deeply, calling out, “Thank you, young master!” Though it was normal for them to go upstairs, heading straight to the third-floor private room was unusual. Many noble guests had tried and failed to gain such privilege.
At the third-floor door, the waiter stopped, and Xu Fengnian entered. Mi Fengjie remained at the door while Fan Xiao chai followed Xu Fengnian inside. She glanced at the woman standing there, surprised by her beauty—her ample curves and alluring charm could make any man wish to support her with his hands. Yet, Fan Xiao chai herself was no less beautiful, though her style was entirely different. Each had their own allure, like water and fire, never clashing.
Xu Fengnian sat down calmly and smiled, saying, “Qingzhu, don’t just stand there—pour the wine! Even if you’ve returned to your old ways, making meat buns, you should at least get your guests drunk first!”
The woman, whose face was hidden beneath a mask, covered her mouth, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
She was indeed the Qingzhu Xu Fengnian met in the Northern Wei’s Ju Zi Zhou, running a black tavern. If not for that night when she drunkenly revealed her secret, Xu Fengnian would never have crossed paths with Han Fang, the leader of the Zhongyi Bandit Clan, nor would he have stormed the Shen family’s hermitage on Liuyi Mountain. Without that, the Han heir might never have become a mountain king, and instead, like Zhang Xiu Cheng, merely moved to another hill. The Han heir would have been captured and executed, and the Han family’s redemption would never have occurred. In short, the entire covert operation in Ji Zhou by the intelligence bureau over the past two years had revolved around one man—Han Fang, who had returned to Ji Zhou with twenty-one riders!
Despite the immense effort and resources poured into the operation, Han Fang’s success was still somewhat miraculous, perhaps aided by the blessings of the Han ancestors. Even Xu Wein Xiong and Chu Lushan, who oversaw Ji Zhou’s intelligence from afar in Beiliang, were astonished.
This was a piece placed by Xu Fengnian himself, and though its full potential had yet to bloom, for Beiliang, which now faced worsening odds, the presence or absence of Han Fang in Ji Zhou meant a world of difference.
Xu Fengnian had not come to meet Han Fang himself, but rather Zhang Xiu Cheng, a former bandit chief who had stubbornly bet everything on Han Fang, believing him to be a “Daoist Immortal” who could elevate him to heaven. In the end, the former Southern Wei scholar-turned-priest had won big, now holding an official post in the southern pass under Han Fang.
Naturally, Xu Fengnian would not recklessly meet Han Fang directly. Though the Zhao Gou had been weakened in Ji Zhou after several defeats, and with Yang Shenxing gone and Yuan Tingshan newly arrived, the Zhao Gou’s presence had diminished. Han Fang was lucky, but Xu Fengnian had little confidence in his own luck.
Qing Zhuniang sat down and poured Xu Fengnian a cup of aged huadiao wine. The fragrance of the wine quickly filled the air. After her emotions had settled, she seemed visibly uneasy and softly asked, “Xu Lang, how did you come to Dazhan City?”
Han Fang’s identity as the orphaned heir of the Han family was only realized by Qing Zhuniang after he had suffered imprisonment. As for Xu Fengnian’s identity, even Han Fang only learned of it after he had settled in Jizhou, when an old spy from the Fushui Bureau sought him out. Such secrets, naturally, Han Fang would not share with Qing Zhuniang, a woman with no familial ties to him. This time, when Xu Fengnian came to Dazhan City to meet Zhang Xiu Cheng, the latter dared not reveal a single word of it. With Han Fang’s fortunes dramatically reversed, Qing Zhuniang naturally rose in status as well. She now owned this tavern in the prime, high-priced district of Dazhan City. Once, at the foot of Jiuyi Mountain, she had been so destitute that she abandoned her own name, and likely not even the lowest-ranking Northern invaders’ spies in the Jizi Province had heard of her, let alone the Zhao Gou spies in Jizhou. Even now, Qing Zhuniang still regarded him only as the son of a prestigious family from Longyao or Gusai Province. As for “Xu Lang’s” martial prowess, she had never known anything about it from beginning to end. That night, whether it was at the Zhongyi Bandit Camp or the grass hut of the Shen family, she had been too drunk to remember anything, sleeping right outside the inn. Later, the Taoist Zhang Xiu Cheng had casually mentioned a few things, saying only that Xu’s martial arts were unparalleled in his lifetime, and that he was not far from being a first-tier expert. But what she truly wanted to know, Zhang Xiu Cheng never said. And what she truly wanted to hear, he never mentioned either.
She even wondered if she would ever see him again in her lifetime.
Today, after finally meeting him, she found herself wishing he would leave Dazhan City as soon as possible. After all, this was a strategically vital military city of Liyang. How could a nobleman from the Southern Dynasty of Beiman dare to come here without fearing for his life?
Xu Fengnian teased, “What? Can’t I come here? Are you afraid I’ll freeload on food and drink?”
Qing Zhuniang did not respond. Instinctively, she reached up and adjusted a strand of black hair at her temple, fearing that something about her appearance might be criticized. Although she did not hold the gaze of that delicate woman for long, the brief eye contact had already left her feeling deeply inferior. How beautiful a young lady she was, with such refined grace, clearly from a scholarly family. Most importantly, that woman was younger than her!
Suddenly, as if awakening from a trance, she lowered her voice and whispered, “Actually, Master Zhang stayed here yesterday. He has been eating, drinking, and sleeping in the innermost room on the upper floor, the one by the window. He saw the young master before I did. He said he would come shortly, but he needed to wait for a moment when there were no customers coming and going. He asked me to pass on his apologies to you, asking for your understanding, Master Xu.”
Xu Fengnian hummed in acknowledgment.
Arriving at Qing Zhuniang’s tavern in Dazhan City, he was about to personally connect with Zhang Xiu Cheng, who was now using the alias Zhang Fuling. This made Xu Fengnian recall another hidden thread, not in Jizhou, but beyond the Daoma Pass, just outside the Hulukou Pass!
This time, Xu Fengnian had claimed he was going to Hengshui City in Jizhou’s north to meet Yu Luandao and Wei Jingtang, but his true intention was to consolidate these two long-planted covert lines. Compared to Han Fang in Jizhou, another hidden piece named Song Diao’er could be activated even earlier. At that time, when Xu Fengnian joined the Yulong Gang, led by Liu Niron, on their journey outside the pass, Song Diao’er was one of several bandit groups invited by the deputy leader Xiao Qiang to assist in an ambush. Xu Fengnian, recognizing Song’s decisiveness and ruthless efficiency, had him later approach Huangfu Ping, then only a commander of the Youzhou Guards, for money and supplies. As Xu had expected, apart from his mediocre martial skills and pitiful background, Song had everything else required. In the heart of Liyang’s Jiangnan region, he could easily have become a celebrated scholar or official. Therefore, with the full support of a powerful commander like Huangfu Ping, Song Diao’er quickly rose in power on the border, absorbing smaller bandit groups like a big fish devouring smaller ones and even the mud they swam in. When Huangfu Ping was promoted to General of Youzhou, Song Diao’er’s growing strength had made him a top leader of the border bandits outside Youzhou. Officially, he commanded over a thousand hardened riders. Though this number might seem small compared to the regular armies, it might not even match a single under-strength officer’s unit. However, considering that Song had once roamed freely with just thirty-six bandits, his current force of a thousand, even without top-tier equipment, could rival the combat effectiveness of three thousand cavalry from Jizhou.
If the ten thousand cavalry of Yu Luandao in Jizhou’s north were already known to the Beiman forces, who had prepared countermeasures, then Song Diao’er’s swift-moving band of a thousand riders, and the rapidly expanding “Song Bandits,” would be the unpredictable dagger that could strike the Beiman eastern front at any moment—whether it was a stab to the waist or a slash to the shoulder. This time, Xu Fengnian himself would personally lay the groundwork for such a strike. Moreover, at the same time that Beiman’s spy networks and martial sects were infiltrating Youzhou, Xu Fengnian also seized the opportunity to quietly disperse many of his forces beyond the pass. As the moral sect’s Master Cui Wazi had believed, the so-called half of the Tingchao Pavilion’s spies hidden in the fortresses of Hulukou were merely a distraction. They had long merged with Song Diao’er’s bandits.
That day, in the stele forest behind Qingliang Mountain, faced with Mi Qiong pointing his finger and cursing him directly, Xu Fengnian had not argued back at all. He had simply said, “I didn’t do a good job.”
Perhaps he truly had not been a particularly good Prince of Beiliang, but the things Xu Fengnian had done were certainly far more than what the outside world imagined.
Xu Fengnian took a sip of the aged huadiao wine that Qing Zhuniang had just warmed for him. The smile on his face suddenly faded into silence.
The fifteen-year-aged huadiao wine had been a tribute item from the Jiangnan region since the first year of the Yonghui era. Its production area had a unique custom since the Da Feng Dynasty: when a wealthy family had a daughter, they would brew several jars of wine on the day of her birth, decorate the jars, and bury them beneath an old osmanthus tree. When the girl grew up and married, this wine would be brought out as the topmost dowry item. Back then, when the eldest princess of Beiliang married into Jiangnan, Prince Xu Xiao of Beiliang had declared he would prepare one thousand jars of huadiao wine for his daughter’s dowry. In the rush, however, he had only managed to gather over eight hundred jars. Actually, this was not particularly shameful. At that time, who would dare to criticize the “Butcher of Men,” Xu Xiao? Even if people cursed him, Xu Xiao would just shrug it off. But if anyone dared to spread rumors about his daughters, unless they were thousands of miles away, not even the emperor could protect them. In the end, it was the Crown Prince himself, who had initially opposed his elder sister’s marriage the most, who personally led the palace guards. He spent an entire day almost breaking into every wealthy household in Liangzhou City, until at dawn on the day of Xu Zhihu’s wedding, the red-eyed Crown Prince finally brought back the last jar of premium huadiao wine.
Xu Fengnian remained silent, and Qing Zhuniang did not speak either.
Zhang Xiu Cheng, no longer wearing his Taoist robes but dressed in civilian clothes, gently pushed open the door and entered. He had originally intended to kneel and perform a grand salute, but seeing Qing Zhuniang still in the room, he hesitated, uncertain how to proceed.
Xu Fengnian returned to his senses, raised his wine cup slightly, and smiled, saying, “We are old friends meeting again. Sit down and speak.”
Zhang Xiu Cheng’s anxious demeanor was not feigned. Good heavens, the man in front of him was none other than the mighty Prince of Liyang’s northwest! The hand holding the wine cup also held command over thirty thousand border cavalry! This young man, bearing the title of Prince of Beiliang and Grand Councilor, was currently locked in a life-and-death struggle against the Beiman Empire’s million-strong army and the entire Beiman dynasty itself! Even setting that aside, this was the man who had taken the heads of the Northern Court Grand Minister Xu Huainan and the Wutai Mountain’s Fifth Mo, and who had slain the legendary Wang Xianzhi. Compared to such a true immortal, what was Zhang Xiu Cheng, just a Taoist pretending to be a mystic?
Zhang Xiu Cheng glanced at Qing Zhuniang, who was still unaware of the truth, and carefully asked in standard Jizhou dialect, “Your… Master Xu, is it okay?”
Xu Fengnian nodded, “It’s fine.”
Zhang Xiu Cheng exhaled in relief, sat upright, and solemnly said, “With all due respect, I’ll first speak of something other than official matters. The Big Boss asked me to do something on his behalf first, and he will make it up to you in person when you meet.”
After saying this, Zhang Xiu Cheng stood up and knelt, heavily kowtowing three times with loud thuds.
Xu Fengnian did not stop him.
After the three kowtows, Zhang Xiu Cheng’s forehead was slightly red. He sat back down, quickly steadying his emotions, and continued, “Under the…”
Zhang Xiu Cheng couldn’t help but curse under his breath, then slapped himself hard on the face before continuing, “Under Master Xu’s instructions, General Yu led his troops along the route to Jizhou’s north, passing near Nanlu Pass. The Big Boss also led three thousand soldiers to intercept them during the night. There was a fierce battle. As expected, Yuan Tingshan, who was accompanied by several dozen attendants, appeared afterward and became less wary of the Big Boss. On this northern journey, only our Nanlu Pass forces drew their swords, while the other dozen or so units cowardly held back. I’m not exaggerating when I say that the Beiliang Iron Cavalry truly deserves its reputation as the finest army in the land. Even separated by the Hezhou region, the Jizhou forces are still terrified of them.”
Xu Fengnian smiled, “If Yang Shenxing, the mainstay of Jizhou, were still here, maybe it wouldn’t be like this. Maybe.”
Zhang Xiu Cheng felt his mouth dry and throat parched after just a few sentences. He glanced at the wine cup on the table but dared not reach for it. Xu Fengnian poured him a cup, and only then did he bow his head, take it with both hands, turn his head slightly, and drink it in one gulp.
Qing Zhuniang watched in stunned silence.
What play was this? What General Yu, what Beiliang Iron Cavalry? She had heard of Yang Shenxing, the old man who had ruled Jizhou with arrogance but failed miserably elsewhere, suffering a major defeat in a place called Guangling Circuit in Liyang. A classic case of losing his dignity in old age. As for Yuan Tingshan, she was more familiar with him. There was no help for it—this Yuan Da-ren was a legendary figure in Jizhou, both praised and criticized. Those who supported him worshipped him, praising him to the skies. Those who didn’t hate him bitterly, calling him a mad dog, a mad dog that had once been beaten into the dirt by the Prince of Beiliang. He did not earn his status through battlefield valor but through his relationships with women.
As Zhang Xiu Cheng was about to speak, someone lightly knocked on the door outside. Zhang Xiu Cheng, startled like a bird frightened by a bowstring, abruptly stood up, scaring Qing Zhuniang.
Xu Fengnian put down his cup, pressed his hand slightly, signaling Zhang Xiu Cheng to stay calm, and calmly said, “Come in.”
Mi Fengjie entered the room. The old man gave Fan Xiaocha a cold, disdainful glance and softly said, “That man surnamed Ruan has come looking for you.”
Xu Fengnian smiled, “Should I say this fellow is persistently annoying or devotedly affectionate?”
It turned out that after their group of four riders entered the border of Jizhou, they had accidentally encountered a private cavalry of forty men escorting a young nobleman. Their equipment was no worse than the elite cavalry of Jizhou. That man had barely glanced at Fan Xiaocha as she rode past swiftly, but his soul seemed to follow her horse. Without a second thought, he immediately turned his horse around and galloped after Xu Fengnian’s group. It turned out that the young man, Ruan Gang, had seen the youthful Fan Xiaocha in Dazhan City when he was a boy, and had been awestruck by her beauty. After Fan Xiaocha left, this lovesick fool had used the excuse of traveling to study, nearly turning half of Jizhou upside down in his search for her. All these years had passed, and he still had not married. He believed that this reunion was fate’s doing. At first, Fan Xiaocha said she didn’t know anyone named Ruan Gang and had never stayed in Dazhan City. When Ruan Gang saw Xu Fengnian, his gaze was filled with sorrowful resentment, mistakenly thinking Fan had married someone else. Interestingly, Ruan Gang had never intended to use his power to bully anyone. He only pleaded with “Xu Qi” to be a nobleman and let him reunite with Fan Xiaocha. In the end, the son of Jizhou’s deputy general even dismounted and knelt on the Posthouseroad, his face streaked with tears and snot. Fortunately, he hadn’t seen Fan Xiaocha’s furious expression on horseback at that moment. At that time, the third-ranking official of the Fushui Bureau had actually considered the idea of dismembering him.
Fan Xiaocha looked at Xu Fengnian, her expressionless face saying, “Let me find an opportunity to kill him. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one knows.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head and smiled, “For a woman, having a man who cares so deeply for you, even if you’re not together, you shouldn’t hurt him too much. After all, in this world, good men like this are rare.”
Fan Xiaocha still kept her cold expression and asked, “Then maybe I can bring him into the Fushui Bureau’s ‘side house’? He is, after all, the most favored son of Jizhou’s deputy general. He could be useful.”
Xu Fengnian countered, “You don’t even like him. Besides, you’ve already become one of the top ten figures in the Fushui Bureau. Why would you still care about such credit?”
Xu Fengnian smiled again and shook his head, “For things like this, when my eyes can’t see, I don’t interfere with what the women of the Fushui Bureau do. But since you’re standing right in front of me, forget it.”
Fan Xiaocha simply said, “Okay,” and said nothing more.
Xu Fengnian turned to Mi Fengjie and said, “Go and casually let Ruan Gang know that I’ll visit his house tomorrow. Let him prepare some fine wine and delicacies. Let him keep waiting. Having something to look forward to, even if it lasts a lifetime, is probably better than having a heart as cold as dead ashes.”
No one in the room responded. Zhang Xiu Cheng dared not, Mi Fengjie didn’t care, Fan Xiaocha began to meditate with her eyes closed, and only Qing Zhuniang softly said, “Yes, that’s how it is.”
Xu Fengnian suddenly thought of another of Beiliang’s pawns, the Prince’s Mansionguest scholar Shu Xiu, who wore a mask of another face.
This pawn, Xu Fengnian’s intuition told him, had not only taken root beside the Prince of Xiangfan City in Qingzhou but had also changed colors.
His teacher, Li Yishan, had always regarded the game of Go as a minor path, mainly because Go divided the world into black and white, and always remained black and white. But human hearts are ever-changing; how could they be divided simply into black and white?
Even though thousands of miles separated him from Beiliang, and even though the Beiliang Iron Cavalry were now preoccupied, the Fushui Bureau could still pay a price to ensure that Shu Xiu, who remained hidden in Qingzhou, would die overnight. But that would be meaningless.
As for the owner of that other divine mask, the hidden piece sent to the Northern Desert, he has finally started to gain momentum and make a name for himself.
As for Chen Shaobao, Chen Wang, who holds a high position as Left Gentleman Attendant in the Menxiasheng of Tai’an City, and his close friend Sun Yin, the chief textile commissioner of Jinlu in Lingzhou,
Xu Fengnian never really treated them as pawns who must obey Beiliang’s command; letting things take their natural course was sufficient.
What Xu Fengnian truly looked forward to was that fellow Cao Wei. Under the “protection” of Yu Luan Dao’s nearly ten thousand Shadow Rider, Cao Wei’s even more elite cavalry might indeed become the decisive, unexpected force. Of course, this all depended on whether Beiliang’s three defensive lines could endure the southern invasion of the Northern Desert’s cavalry.
Xu Fengnian rose with a cup of wine in hand, walked to the window, gazed at the bustling street below, and took a sip of Huadiao rice wine.
You, the Grand Chancellor of Peace, within the Northern Desert’s imperial palace, have stitched together a magnificent landscape of two dynasties using a hundred rolls of fine silk, seeking to purchase peace for that old hag through the game of black and white.
That’s a masterful craft—worthy of reward.
But this “reward” shall come in the form of my thirty thousand Beiliang iron riders. Let’s see if the Northern Desert can swallow them whole. Be careful—they might scorch right through your insides.
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