Chapter 760: The Northern Wolf (II)

Xu Fengnian watched the retreating figures of the group, somewhat surprised. He had not expected to meet an old acquaintance here.

It was the young noble Wang Weixue from Qijian Leyu, the same extravagant youth from the Northern Wei who once casually tossed out a precious jade pendant shaped like six slithering snakes. But his other identity was even more intriguing: he was the only son of Wang Yong, the commanding general overseeing the vital grain and provisions supply in the Bottle Province of Northern Wei. Could it be that this fellow had come to stir up trouble in the Western Regions? Xu Fengnian’s expression darkened. If Wang Weixue had come here merely out of concern for his seniors in Qijian Leyu, or to seek some hidden glory in the war between Liang and Northern Wei, Xu Fengnian would not be overly concerned. But if it turned out that Cao Wei’s cavalry had been discovered by Northern Wei spies, then he would have to break his promise to Tan Tai Jing.

Xu Fengnian casually flicked his finger across the sword blade. The sword flew back into Yan Yan’s scabbard beside her. He asked softly, “Is he the one your sister has taken a liking to? When did he arrive in the city?”

Yan Yan steadied herself, striving to keep her voice calm. “I first saw him last spring. As for when he entered the city, I do not know.”

Xu Fengnian exhaled in relief. At least things hadn’t gone as badly as they could have. By that time, Cao Wei’s cavalry had not yet departed for the Western Regions. Whether Wang Weixue, the privileged second-generation noble of Northern Wei, had noticed the cavalry’s movements, he likely came for the same reason as Xu Fengnian—seeking out the Buddhist warriors of Lantuo Mountain. Xu Fengnian was familiar with Lantuo Mountain; it was natural for the mountain to be filled with various sects. But those old monks who had spoken to him before, some of them had not seemed particularly serene or holy—more like they were brimming with fiery tempers. Now he understood why.

If he himself could come to the mountains to promise the monks of Lantuo Mountain a grand future, then Northern Wei could just as easily have anticipated this and quietly laid plans to undermine him—perhaps even offering an even grander promise. Who couldn’t play the game of bidding up the price? As long as it meant Northern Liang would suffer, Northern Wei would be more than willing to let Lantuo Mountain name its price and wait for the best offer.

Alternatively, why not kill two birds with one stone? Eliminate Wang Weixue and use the pretext of borrowing troops from Lantuo Mountain to wipe out the Dong family entirely? If necessary, he could even engage in a long campaign across the Western Regions against Tuoba Pusa, that bloodhound of a foe.

Xu Fengnian closed his eyes, weighing the pros and cons.

After a long silence, Yan Yan finally asked, “Are you from the Central Plains?”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “My ancestral home is in Jinzhou, Liaodong. I’m not really from the Central Plains.”

Yan Yan was not the kind of woman who could easily navigate social niceties. She found herself at a loss for words, and the conversation faltered. Yet as she thought of the bleak future awaiting her and her sister at dawn, she felt her breath catch in her chest. She needed a distraction, needed to speak to this strange man who had appeared here so unexpectedly, whose actions were so unpredictable, just to keep herself from breaking down.

Xu Fengnian gazed into the distance, a trace of emotion in his voice. “Once, I knew a woman who left home to wander the martial world, much like you—chivalrous and righteous. I traveled with her to Northern Wei, watching silently as she endured many hardships. I told her some tedious the truth about how fortune and misfortune come from one’s own actions. She was stubborn, but in the end, I helped her a little. Now I can’t even say for sure whether that help was truly good for her.”

He turned and smiled gently. “Don’t worry. I’ve changed my mind. As long as I remain in this city, you and your sister will be safe for a day. If you must ask for a reason, it’s simply this: without true female heroes like you, even if the martial world teems with masters, it would be terribly dull.”

Then he added bitterly, “This martial world has already lost too many old faces.”

Yan Yan gazed at him, her eyes clear and unguarded.

Xu Fengnian suddenly grinned. “What? Do you think I’m just like that lecherous old Dong, lusting after your beauty? That the only difference is he prefers brute force, while I prefer subtlety? Well, I admit it. You’ve seen through me. You’ve barely escaped a wolf’s den only to fall into a tiger’s lair. Go ahead, cry if you must.”

Yan Yan smiled faintly, tears still clinging to her lashes like rain on pear blossoms, and gently shook her head. “I know you are not like that.”

Xu Fengnian leaned back and lay down. “Tell me about what’s happening in the city. Pick something interesting—like that Little Lantuo Mountain.”

She nodded, her voice growing lighter, though the sorrow in her heart had not lifted. It was not the joy of finding a way out, but the resignation of having accepted her fate. She knew the man beside her had no ill intentions, but she also knew he was merely a passerby in this city—or rather, in their lives. Still, she continued, “You may have heard of the prayer wheel on the mountain that no one has ever managed to turn. But perhaps you don’t know that at the foot of the mountain lives an old monk nicknamed ‘Chicken Soup Chan Master.’ He’s quite interesting. He’s not from the Western Regions, but a monk from the Central Plains who practices Chan. If someone comes to his hut seeking enlightenment, he always serves them a steaming bowl of chicken soup first. He doesn’t drink it himself, just watches others drink it, and then speaks some simple truths. That’s where the nickname comes from.”

Xu Fengnian said softly, “There is indeed a school of Chan in the Central Plains that practices this kind of begging with a bowl, calling themselves ‘beggars’ who seek only the truth. ‘One bowl, a thousand households’ food; alone, I wander ten thousand miles.’ And now this old monk has come to the Western Regions, brewing chicken soup for people to drink? But I’m curious—just who kills the chicken for the soup?”

She hesitated, then replied helplessly, “How would I know? I’ve never even thought to ask that question.”

Xu Fengnian teased, “You don’t seem very enlightened, young lady. Even if you did meet this Chicken Soup Monk, you’d probably be scolded for being a fool and might not even get to taste the soup.”

She had no reply.

Xu Fengnian smiled and changed the subject. “Are there any famous stories that have reached your outer city?”

She nodded. “Of course. There’s a tale about a ruthless bandit leader who once strolled right into the inner city. He drank the old monk’s chicken soup and asked, ‘Can even someone like me, who has killed without hesitation, attain Buddhahood?’ The old monk said, ‘Of course. Just lay down your sword.’ The bandit laughed and said, ‘I never used a sword. I killed with my bare hands. What sword could I possibly have to lay down?’ Guess what the old monk said? He said, ‘Then pick up a sword first, and then lay it down.’ And guess what happened? Many years later, that bandit really did return to the foot of the mountain with a sword, threw it away in front of the old monk, and wept, saying he wanted to let go. Later, that middle-aged bandit shaved his head with that same sword, laid it down again, and became a monk under the old monk, devoting himself to Buddhism.”

Xu Fengnian murmured softly, “To lay down here, to lay down there. This shore, that shore. This life, that life. Indeed, he truly let go.”

She looked at him, half-understanding, half-doubtful. “You really believe that story? Even I have my doubts.”

The man, who grew more enigmatic by the moment, said nothing, so she continued, “They also say that the Chicken Soup Monk likes to sing a song called ‘Lotus Falls.’ The song has no name, but half of its hundred lines mention ‘Lotus Falls,’ so the people of the inner and outer cities gave it that name. Then someone went to drink the soup and asked the old monk, since he had practiced Chan for decades, whether his lotus had fallen yet. The old monk sadly told the visitor that his lotus had not yet fallen. But when it did, he would attain enlightenment—and stop making chicken soup. A recent tale making the rounds in the outer city is that a stranger forced his way into the inner city and stood at the foot of the mountain. He didn’t drink the soup, only asked the old monk whether he was a ‘celestial being’ like his master. It was a very strange question…”

She continued speaking, unaware that the young man beside her had grown increasingly troubled.

She also failed to notice that, at some point, another man had appeared on the roof behind them, his hands empty.

Xu Fengnian sat up, but did not turn to look at the man who had once carried a sword and a corpse away into the mountains of the Western Regions.

The man sneered, “Now I see how clever you really are. My master surpassed him, and you surpassed my master. It should have been your turn next to be surpassed by a new generation, but instead, you chose not to become the strongest in the world. You abandoned your own fate and settled for being one of the Four Grand Masters, just to keep your position more secure.”

Xu Fengnian smiled faintly. “You’re wrong about one thing. Back then, your master did not defeat him, and I did not defeat your master either. They simply had no attachments left to this martial world—or to how outsiders like us perceive it. As for what you think, forget about comparing their cultivation levels. In terms of sheer combat power, your master could have taken on even the legendary Lu Zu from eight hundred years ago. Even if all nine of the current top martial experts joined forces, your master would still be able to kill whoever he wished. That is the true pinnacle of a martial cultivator. As for what your master was thinking at the time, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself. When you do, feel free to take back the sword ‘Bodhisattva Man’ and come after me for revenge.”

The quiet man, one of Wang Xianzhi’s disciples, Lou Huang of Wudi City, said coldly, “I must take that child, Yudi Long, with me.”

Xu Fengnian shook his head. “Even if I agreed, he would not go with you. Moreover, it is better to rely on oneself than on others.”

Lou Huang was silent for a moment, then said calmly, “I cannot defeat you.”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “Then you’ll just have to wait until I die. Whether it’s here in the Western Regions or in Northern Liang, it’s up to you. As long as you don’t side with Northern Wei, I won’t interfere.”

Lou Huang, who had already taken up residence in the city, vanished in a flash.

Xu Fengnian remained silent.

In a hundred years of martial history, only two men who lived in the same era and successively reached the peak could be said to have stood alone on the summit, gazing out at an empty world.

Li Chungan had willingly admitted defeat, while Wang Xianzhi had proudly claimed victory. Thus, Li Chungan descended the mountain freely, while Wang Xianzhi ascended to the heavens triumphantly.

Both were unparalleled figures in the martial world—legends that would not be seen again for centuries, perhaps even a thousand years.

But while great legends are rare and cannot be sought, the martial world must always have its heroes—whether a thousand years ago or a thousand years from now.

At that moment, Yan Yan, still unaware that she was of noble blood yet cast into the streets, instinctively stroked her sister’s hair and asked curiously, “Are you here to seek revenge too, Young Master?”

Xu Fengnian glanced at her and shook his head with a smile. “My enemies are not here. But there are many in this city who see me as their enemy. Perhaps even one of your elders.”

Yan Yan did not take his words seriously, only murmuring bitterly, “The elders who should have been enjoying their twilight years are all dead. And the one who deserved it most will live on to enjoy a good life.”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “It’s like some people who seem awake but are still asleep inside.”

Yan Yan did not lower her gaze, nor did she look at her sister, who was pretending to sleep but was wide awake. Her sister’s tears soaked the front of her robe.

Xu Fengnian did not look at the Infatuation woman who had just been slapped off the balcony by him. “Yan Yan, take her and leave this place. Go out and see the world. Avoid the war-torn Northern Liang. First, go to Xishu and see the bamboo seas. Then follow the Guangling River to the south of the Central Plains. Head north to the southern frontier. Finally, when the world is no longer at war, go and see the greatest city under heaven. When the time comes that someone feels truly guilty for betraying those old ones, come back here and pay respects at their graves.”

Yan Yan sat there and nodded deeply. “Thank you, Young Master! Unfortunately, I have nothing to repay you with!”

Xu Fengnian looked at her with a gentle smile. “You can repay me. If you ever become a legendary female hero admired by countless martial cultivators, just mention that it was a certain Xu from Northern Liang who advised you to take this path. If you could also add that he was far more handsome than all of you, that would be perfect.”

Yan Yan was momentarily speechless, her face slightly flushed.

She held her sister, who had caused such a catastrophe, and glared coldly at this strange man who spoke with solemnity one moment and teasing the next. To her, all men in this world were heartless and deserved to die!

But when she saw Xu Fengnian raise his hand, she immediately ducked behind her sister.

One was heartbreak. The other was pain.

Xu Fengnian sneered, “I knew it was pointless to reason with someone like you. You only remember pain, not kindness. But being heartless has its advantages. When you enter the Jianghu of Liyang, help your sister keep her wits about her. When you first step into the world, assume the worst of people. It may not be a good thing, but at least it won’t be a bad one.”

They had no idea what this Xu from Northern Liang had done, but the middle-aged man who looked stern and dignified returned.

Lou Huang frowned.

Xu Fengnian did not bother with formalities. “You, Yu Xinlang, Lin Ya, and the others are like them. You truly enter the martial world only when you leave the city. If you remain in that city by the Eastern Sea for your whole life, you will never achieve greatness.”

If anyone else had said those words, even another of the top martial experts, Lou Huang would have scoffed. But from the mouth of this young man, however unwillingly, Lou Huang could not help but ponder deeply.

Lou Huang did not nod or shake his head. He looked at the two pitiful girls, then lightly leapt from the roof, landing silently on the street. Yan Yan released her sister and deeply bowed to the young nobleman who had appeared so unexpectedly yet was so profound. Her eyes were red, her lips bitten, unable to speak. Yan Yan looked at her sister with complex emotions, then glanced at the drunkard who had only seen a back view the night before. She leapt down before her sister, stopping beside Lou Huang.

Unconsciously, the sky changed from dark to light. Dawn was near.

When Yan Yan finally could not bring herself to say any parting words, she turned and looked back at the tall figure still standing on the roof.

Yan Yan muttered angrily, “What’s so great about someone so plain-looking!”

Yan Yan did not respond to her sister. She turned her head back and exhaled deeply. For some reason, she felt that from this moment on, no matter how far she traveled—thousands of miles or more—she would never truly leave that roof behind.

She could not help but look back again, seeing that lonely figure wave his hand at them from afar.

Lou Huang walked forward with a stern expression.

In his mind, he recalled a prophecy the old monk had let slip not long ago.

“A tiger from Liaodong, roaring through the Central Plains. A lone wolf from the northwest, lying on the great ridge.”

But at the time, the old monk had looked at the cold chicken soup in front of him, neither smiling nor weeping, and said, “It’s cold.”

Lou Huang had been furious at the monk’s cryptic words and snapped, “What nonsense! If it’s cold, just heat it up!”

The old monk had clapped his legs and laughed, “Heaven and earth are not as good as harmony among men… That’s right!”

After leaving the city, Lou Huang almost simultaneously looked back at the city walls with Yan Yan and Yan Yan.

None of them knew that within the city, an old monk was running with his begging bowl, filled with fragrant aroma.

He ran straight to the tavern, leapt up, and rushed to Xu Fengnian’s side, laughing loudly, “Cao Changqing refused to take it up. Will you, Xu Fengnian?”

Xu Fengnian, for once, looked slightly uneasy, and asked with a smile, “Can I take it up?”

The chicken soup monk, who had begged across ten thousand miles, grinned mischievously, “Just take it first!”

But as soon as Xu Fengnian solemnly accepted the Buddhist bowl, the old monk suddenly sat cross-legged, facing east, his back to the west.

The old monk clasped his hands, as if finally liberated, as if finally free, as if finally seeing the Buddha. He bowed his head and softly chanted, “Disciple Longshu, the Dharma is not in external things, nor in words. My lotus has fallen.”

On Lantuo Mountain, the great prayer wheel, which no one had ever managed to turn, began to rotate on its own. The celestial maidens on its walls danced, and the six-syllable mantra echoed throughout the Western Regions and reached even Northern Liang.

The Buddha said, “If one turns the wheel at the mountaintop, peace and blessings will spread throughout the land.”

“If a ruler turns the wheel, the people will be freed from sins and obstacles.”

The old monk closed his eyes, serene in his final moments, and spoke his last words: “Well done.”

In an instant, the scattered threads of fate in the heavens and earth converged like rainbows in the sky, like lotuses blooming in the heavens, rushing into the bowl in his hand.