In the city where he could hold sway with a single hand, the old man glanced at the young man who likely wore a disguise, snorted coldly, and retreated in a backward leap onto the branches, vanishing swiftly into the ink-black night.
Xu Fengnian’s mind stirred as he sheathed the flying swords into his sleeves. He then pointed at the valiant man, around thirty years old, who had earlier drawn his sword in hostility, and asked with a smile, “What’s his name? How long has he served your Sima family?”
Lady Chai, ever astute, felt a shadow cross her heart and looked sorrowfully at the man who had once held such promise. “Him? The youngest figure on the inner city’s martial rankings, hailed as an assassin even more skilled than the Dong family’s killers. His family has served the Sima clan for generations. Perhaps it’s the greed of the snake trying to swallow an elephant, or perhaps he simply doesn’t want his descendants to remain servants.”
Seated on a small stool like Xu Fengnian, her tone grew icy as she sneered, “Isn’t that right, Tao Disong?!”
The handsome man pressed his lips together, neither refuting nor admitting, his gaze fixed on Lady Chai.
Xu Fengnian, of course, remained an observer. Earlier, when Tao Disong saw him rise, the killing intent that leaked out was understandable—perhaps out of loyalty to his master. But later, when the Dong family assassin fell from the tree, the instinctive surge of martial energy and murderous intent in the face of danger couldn’t be explained by mere loyalty to the Sima family. Xu Fengnian sighed, rubbing his face with a bitter expression. If even the harmonious Wutong Courtyard, after so many years of joy, could be so unpredictable, how much more so a Sima family in the Western Regions?
Tao Disong didn’t reveal his dagger yet. He simply stared at Lady Chai, a woman eight years his senior.
Lady Chai seemed to realize the truth and erupted in fury, scolding, “If you wanted to rise above others, has the Sima family ever stopped you once? After all these years of nurturing you without reservation, are you truly so ungrateful?! In the Western Regions, there’s no benevolence, no righteousness, no loyalty—but don’t forget, all Westerners believe in one word: trust! Even the most wicked, once they promise something, must honor it. Even children here understand that!”
Tao Disong’s face remained impassive. “Madam, since childhood, I’ve respected you, seen you as a bodhisattva.”
Lady Chai snapped, “Shut up.”
She stood abruptly, seizing the horn bow. In an instant, she drew it to full moon, a testament to her martial prowess, which was undeniably among the city’s elite.
Tao Disong ignored the bow and the deadly iron-feathered arrow aimed at him, staring only at Lady Chai as he murmured, “When I grew up, especially after realizing my martial talent surpassed all the men in the family, I swore to myself that one day, I’d make sure you wouldn’t have to live so exhausted…”
At this tense moment, Xu Fengnian muttered under his breath, utterly out of place, “You mean ‘so lonely,’ right?” He emphasized the word “lonely.”
Lady Chai, hearing this clearly, nearly turned her arrow on him in fury, ready to shoot him first!
Tao Disong laughed uproariously, tears streaming as he wiped his eyes. He stepped forward fearlessly, his gaze burning with a man’s passion. “Madam, why must you live so tired? In five years, I could rank among the inner city’s top three. Give me ten, and I, Tao Disong, could claim the title of the city’s strongest. In five years, I’ll be thirty-five, and you’ll only be forty-three. You won’t age—you’ll still glow, looking like a woman under thirty. You’ll always be the lady of my youth, the most beautiful in the world. Even in ten years, if you truly age, in my heart, even with white hair, you’ll still be the most beautiful…”
Lady Chai would have loosed her arrow the instant he took a step forward—though uncertain of success, she would not have allowed this ungrateful wretch to utter another word. Yet the man beside her intervened, urging her to let him speak his mind, so he might die without regrets, and she would bear no guilt for slaying one of her own.
But soon, she regretted that mercy.
The Tao Disong who had once bowed before her as a respectful junior, the bright-eyed youth she remembered from the Western Regions—that man was long dead. So she released the iron-feathered arrow without hesitation.
And in that moment, Tao Disong finally shed all pretense.
With a snarl, he lunged forward, twisting aside to evade the arrow before charging toward the hut in a frenzy, his laughter twisted with malice.
“Madam,” he hissed, “if I cannot have you in this life, then let us tread the Yellow Springs together! Before the gates of the underworld, I, Tao Disong, shall—”
Before he could finish, an iron-feathered arrow pierced his throat, the force sending him flying backward to crash heavily onto the ground.
Such was the Western Regions—victors and vanquished decided in the blink of an eye, unlike the drawn-out feuds of the Central Plains’ martial world, where schemes and counter-schemes played out slowly.
Xu Fengnian said calmly, “I remember a man named Lü Qiantang. When he died, he was far more of a man than you. He was a true martial artist.”
Tao Disong died with eyes wide open. He knew Lady Chai, who had fought alongside him earlier, was exhausted from battling the Dong family’s top assassin. She couldn’t have killed him in ten shots. With that strange man’s help, he couldn’t kill her, but he hadn’t even managed to die by her hand—instead, a flying sword pierced his throat before her arrow could.
In his final moments, the ambitious man had one thought: Lady Chai, I truly loved you.
But another Sima family loyalist strode to Tao Disong’s corpse and kicked it a dozen yards into the dust. Thus, the tears on his face in death would remain unknown.
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Madam, attend to your affairs. Our deal is settled, and you’ve got this mess to clean up. No need to mind me.”
Yet Lady Chai unexpectedly sat back down. The stool was small, and she’d changed into tight-fitting night clothes for the assassination attempt, unintentionally accentuating her figure.
Xu Fengnian didn’t point it out. Perhaps she didn’t notice, didn’t care, or was testing his gentlemanly resolve. A woman’s heart is as fathomable as a needle in the ocean.
Watching her family, though shaken, carry on methodically, she murmured, “Being busy is easy—there’s always more to do. I’ve been busy for twenty years, starting nervously, then confidently, but always busy, even dreaming of expanding our legacy. Today, I finally steal a moment to rest.”
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly. “I’ve been luckier. I only started busy these past few years. And even if I weren’t in charge, my family wouldn’t falter in crisis…”
He suddenly turned, exasperated. “Lady Chai, do you truly not understand I’m dismissing you, or are you pretending? You’re stealing leisure, but I’d like to sit here alone, lost in thought.”
She said, “Oh,” but made no move to leave.
Xu Fengnian let it go.
She suddenly called out a name, waving into the distance. Soon, a timid girl of thirteen or fourteen approached—a beauty in the making, resembling Lady Chai in looks but not in demeanor, for the latter’s grace was forged through trials, while the girl had grown sheltered. The girl, with a long and short embroidered sword at each hip, crouched beside Lady Chai, not daring to look at Xu Fengnian.
Lady Chai stroked her head. “Tiehe is my daughter. She heard the Central Plains’ top martial artists either use no weapons or favor swords, so she only started training with blades last year, digging through our armory to find this pair. Tiehe, this gentleman is the one you’ve been looking for. Didn’t you argue with your friends over who’d marry ‘that man’? Now you’ve beaten that silly Li girl to it. Such chances come but once.”
The girl looked up, wide-eyed. “Him?!”
Lady Chai nodded, smirking as she glanced at the dumbfounded Xu Fengnian, her eyes glinting with mischief.
The girl turned away and back, pouting. “He doesn’t look like him at all.”
Xu Fengnian sighed inwardly. How could this face resemble his own? But it was for the best—he wasn’t about to indulge a Western girl’s fantasies. The thought made his scalp tingle, yet he smiled, imagining the aloof Li Chungang enduring worse in his youth.
Lady Chai added fuel, whispering, “Silly girl, it’s really him. He’s wearing a mask. Do you think ‘that man’ would waltz into the Western Regions openly? Would I lie to you?”
Xu Fengnian facepalmed.
Unexpectedly, the girl burst into tears. If not for Lady Chai covering her mouth, she’d have wailed openly.
When she finally calmed, she turned to Xu Fengnian, sniffling. “Sister Bishui really liked you…”
She added tearfully, “Sister Bishui really liked you… But she died today. Could you write something for me to burn at her grave?”
Lady Chai sighed softly, her eyes pleading.
Xu Fengnian smiled. “But there’s no ink or brush now.”
The delicate-looking girl promptly sliced off a sleeve with her knife, handed it to him, then cut her palm deeply, letting blood pool in his hand.
Lady Chai’s pride was unmistakable. Her daughter, with a spirit as fierce as any Western man’s.
Xu Fengnian let the blood drip from his fingers onto the sleeve, writing “Sima Bishui.”
The girl hastily added, “And your name.”
He added “Xu Fengnian.”
She treasured the sleeve, gazing at the blood characters before weeping again. But she soon wiped her tears and looked pitifully at Xu Fengnian. “Could you write one for me too?”
Without waiting, she cut another sleeve and prepared to slash her other palm. Xu Fengnian stopped her, exasperated. “Enough, I surrender. Just give me the sleeve.”
He pricked his finger and wrote “Xu Fengnian, Sima Tiehe.”
The girl peered closely, whispering boldly, “Add ‘gifts’ between the names.”
He complied.
With both sleeves in hand, the girl finally left, carefully tucking them away and thanking Xu Fengnian earnestly before walking off, quietly sobbing.
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Lady Chai, you have a fine daughter.”
She nodded. “Indeed. My only wish is for her not to live as I have. That wish nearly shattered, but thanks to your presence today.”
She finally stood, smiling. “I won’t disturb your meditation.”
Xu Fengnian looked up. “Live well.”
For the first time, Lady Chai bowed deeply to a man with genuine respect.
Xu Fengnian closed his eyes.
*You must live well in Dunhuang. Wait for me.*
Over the next few hours, the Sima family dispersed under Lady Chai’s orders to handle the aftermath. At one point, she and her daughter stood together, gazing at Xu Fengnian meditating under the eaves.
When silence returned, Xu Fengnian opened his eyes.
Six-Zhū Bodhisattva wouldn’t return from Mount Luantuo with the swords in time.
He’d have to make do.
The coming battle would be a test of endurance, where every ounce of strength counted.
Xu Fengnian tore off the mask and stood, sleeves billowing like an immortal’s in the lamplight.
He raised an arm.
Every sword in the city—long, short, ancient, new—flew to him, humming joyfully.
Before him, the swords aligned in a straight line, tip to hilt.
Once, an old man had turned raindrops into swords on a wet path.
Xu Fengnian smiled.
*The wind’s howling, but this time, we’re not running.*
He pushed his arm forward and stepped ahead.
The swords merged into a single blade hundreds of feet long.
Xu Fengnian commanded, “Go!”
The sword shot through the city like lightning, streaking toward the Northern Desert’s Martial God, Tuoba Pusa, who charged toward the city.
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