In the narrow corridor, the shifting tides of fate laid bare the myriad facets of human nature. The old swordsman, burdened by his blade, slackened his grip in despair. The decades of relentless honing that had forged his once-luminous sword heart were now shattered beyond repair. His expression turned vacant, the dignity of a grandmaster utterly lost.
The woman in purple, who had painstakingly carved out her reputation as the “Bamboo Fairy,” saw her frosty demeanor melt away like snow. Her eloquent, liquid eyes—filled with reverence, admiration, and guilt—spoke volumes even as she hesitated to voice her thoughts. The young noble from the Western Shu clan abandoned his opportunistic scheming, adopting a humble posture while still maintaining the poise befitting his lineage, careful not to appear too fickle. His sister, however, was the starkest contrast—fearless as a newborn calf, she widened her eyes in defiance, as if silently declaring, *Let’s elope!*
Madam Song refrained from twisting the knife in their wounds. She suppressed her smile and approached Xu Fengnian, introducing the others with an air of effortless authority:
“Purple Bamboo Fairy Huang Chunyu hails from the Jingwei Sword Mountain, second only to the Spring Scroll Cottage in Western Shu. Her master is Deng Kuai, the Lord of the Ox and Dipper Peak, one of the four great peaks of the mountain. She recently visited General Liu’s residence and arrived at Snow Lotus Tower just yesterday. If I’m not mistaken, the siblings are from the Lu family of Yizhou in Western Shu. As for this senior who refuses—no, *disdains*—to draw his sword, his name is Ruan Jinghua, a renowned martial arts grandmaster in Western Shu. A famed poet once praised his swordsmanship as ‘a thousand riders sweeping snow over the ridge,’ earning him the moniker ‘Thousand-Rider Sword Immortal’ in the southwestern martial world.”
The barely-revived old sword immortal nearly spat blood at the word “disdains,” his face turning ashen, lips trembling violently.
Xu Fengnian finally regarded the old man with genuine interest. “So you’re Ruan Jinghua? The one who abandoned literature for the sword in his youth, inspired by the Sword God Li Chungang? The one who penned the famous ode *Three Feet*?”
The old man froze, then nodded slowly—this once-great swordsman now devoid of all spirit.
To everyone’s surprise, Xu Fengnian bowed slightly. “My apologies.”
Ruan Jinghua was stunned, and even Madam Song was baffled. Xu Fengnian chuckled softly. “A senior once said your talent with the sword was mediocre, but your poetry was exceptional. He believed you should have been a scholar, not a swordsman.”
The Lu siblings watched in astonishment as Ruan Jinghua, after a moment of confusion, suddenly broke down like a child who had finally earned praise from a strict tutor—laughing and weeping, as if he had glimpsed enlightenment after a lifetime of obscurity.
Huang Chunyu, who had emulated the attire of the Wulin Alliance Leader from Huishan, noticed the trio had already departed. Yet Ruan Jinghua remained lost in reverie, murmuring to himself:
*”No sheath, no scabbard,*
*Yet the dark chamber glows at night.*
*Three feet of wood and steel,*
*Can break all weapons under heaven.*
*When rain approaches the sky,*
*The blade hums like a dragon’s cry.*
*Walking the world with sword in hand,*
*All ghosts flee at night’s command.*
*Crossing the Guangling River,*
*Eight hundred flood dragons shiver.*
*The world knows not what it seeks,*
*But the man in green laughs with peaks:*
*’Had Heaven not birthed Li Chungang,*
*The path of swords would be eternal night!'”*
On the way to Liu Huaixi’s room, Madam Song explained, “According to intelligence, the wandering swordsman Zhang Wuhou has secretly pledged allegiance to the new Yizhou General. The Lu family and key figures from Jingwei Sword Mountain are now guests of the Yizhou Governor. With Huang Chunyu paving the way, it seems their visit to Snow Lotus City is aimed at recruiting Liu Huaixi. My Prince, should we detain them?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “No need to provoke Western Shu yet. Snow Lotus Tower is too far from Northern Liang, and Fan Xiaochai hasn’t arrived. If things escalate, our intelligence network won’t be able to intervene in time. Gathering intelligence remains our priority—now and always. The balance of power between the northwest and southwest hinges on armies and steel. Every life spared, every report delivered, could alter the course of war—and the fate of the realm.”
Madam Song lowered her gaze. “This servant’s vision was narrow.”
Xu Fengnian stopped and looked at her wryly. “Madam Song, you were friends with my mother and Aunt Zhao. Must you call yourself ‘servant’? Do you want me to feel guilty?”
She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, neither confirming nor denying.
Inside the room, Yu Qingling brewed tea with practiced hands. Liu Huaixi waited patiently, and when Madam Song entered with the unfamiliar young man, the tea was ready.
“Madam Song,” Liu Huaixi remarked with a grin, “your timing is impeccable.”
Madam Song took her seat, while Xu Fengnian stood “respectfully” behind her.
Liu Huaixi raised an eyebrow. “And this young master is?”
Madam Song’s lips curled faintly. “Young Master Xu is a fellow disciple of Meng Li. His skills… are exceptional.”
The burly Liu Huaixi laughed heartily. “In that case, join us for tea! I respect scholars, but I prefer men of steel. Alas, today I’m a guest, and Madam Song is the host. But if she vouches for you, we *must* share a drink another time.”
Liu Huaixi’s rough charm was disarming. Unlike the polished deference of the Lu siblings, his sincerity felt genuine—his eyes never wavered, his words unfeigned.
When Xu Fengnian sat without hesitation, Liu Huaixi’s grin widened. He then bargained with Madam Song: “Since Young Master Xu is so forthright, won’t you spare two jugs of good wine? A warrior’s feast trumps a king’s banquet!”
Yu Qingling glanced at Madam Song, who nodded. The woman swayed out gracefully.
Liu Huaixi patted his belly. “Madam Song, I’ll speak plainly. I came alone as a show of goodwill—though my two hundred men outside are no secret. I lack the skill to challenge Snow Lotus Tower alone, and I’d hate to leave widows behind.”
Madam Song smiled faintly.
Liu Huaixi drained his cup and continued, “My ambition is no mystery. I want to be a *real* general—whether under Beimang, Liyang, Northern Liang, or even the White-Clad War Saint Chen Zhibao. If the price is right, I’ll march my men to war.”
Madam Song countered, “But on foreign soil, wouldn’t you be at their mercy? A few thousand men rule Snow Lotus City, but in an army, even Western Shu’s weakest force would dwarf you.”
Liu Huaixi chuckled. “Hence I’m weighing my options carefully. Huang Chunyu isn’t the only one courting me. Southern Chu offered a higher rank—a *Fenwu General* with six thousand extra troops. Liyang’s offer was paltry. And Beimang…”
Madam Song finished for him, “Promised you a warlord’s title, even a future kingship—if you survive as their vanguard against Northern Liang.”
Liu Huaixi roared with laughter. “Madam Song sees all! You’d make a fine Minister of War!”
Then he lowered his voice, eyes glinting. “Rumor says the young Prince of Northern Liang has a ‘Phoenix Court’ where women handle his decrees. You’d fit right in.”
Yu Qingling returned with two jugs of Northern Liang’s *Green Ant Wine*—a common but potent brew. She poured three bowls, the aroma rich and biting.
Madam Song downed hers in one go, silent.
Liu Huaixi followed suit, then turned earnest. “I’ve been frank. Can’t Snow Lotus Tower reciprocate?”
Xu Fengnian finally spoke. “General Liu, you haven’t been entirely honest.”
Liu Huaixi grinned. “Oh? Elaborate.”
Xu Fengnian met his gaze. “Yesterday’s skirmishes in the northeast alley—your adopted son died in the first, and you watched the second from afar. You couldn’t gauge my strength, nor identify the two riders who entered and left the city. But it’s clear I surpass Shao Mu, Meng Li, and even you. Most crucially, your two hundred elites outside stood down because your spy here revealed my identity—likely writing ‘Prince of Northern Liang’ or ‘Xu Fengnian’ in tea.”
Madam Song’s head snapped up, glaring at Yu Qingling, who paled instantly.
Liu Huaixi set down his bowl, stood, and bowed deeply. “This humble subject, Liu Huaixi, pays respects to the Prince of Liang!”
He straightened, grinning fiercely. “Kill me if you wish, but spare Yu Qingling!”
Xu Fengnian sipped his wine. Despite the chilly spring air, Liu Huaixi was drenched in sweat.
“Return to your estate with your men,” Xu Fengnian said lightly. “Northern Liang’s offer will come in due time. Oh, and send that snow lotus to Snow Lotus Tower.”
Liu Huaixi left, bowing all the way.
Once alone, Madam Song seized her bowl and smashed it against Yu Qingling’s kneeling form. Wine and blood mingled in the woman’s hair.
As Madam Song moved to kneel, Xu Fengnian stopped her with a smile. “This isn’t a bad thing, Madam Song. Truly.”
Madam Song cast a glance at Yu Qingling, gnashing her teeth as she said, “According to the rules of the Fushui Chamber, as Yu Qingling’s guide, the lightest punishment for me, Song Huanghuang, is to sever one of my own arms!”
Yu Qingling pressed her forehead to the ground, heartbroken, and cried, “Madam, it’s all my fault! Your Highness, please don’t punish Madam—I, Yu Qingling, am willing to take my own life to atone!”
Xu Fengnian sneered, “Yu Qingling, Liu Huaixi pleaded for you, and now you plead for Madam Song. Both are pleas. But do you believe that while yours is sincere, Liu Huaixi’s is nothing more than a calculated act of self-preservation? He may seem gallant, but in truth, he’s a ruthless man acting on instinct, choosing the best course for himself. Perhaps you’ll ask how I can see through him, thinking that I, Xu Fengnian, am slandering Liu Huaixi, who has always been open even in his misdeeds.”
Xu Fengnian gave a self-deprecating smile. “If I had to explain, it’s simply because I, too, am a cold-hearted man. A villain sees another villain clearly. I could have forced Liu Huaixi to kill you to save himself, but in your emotional turmoil, he was certain I wouldn’t kill him outright. He put on a show for you, acting resigned to his fate, knowing you’d only grow more infatuated—perhaps even biting your tongue and ending your life on the spot.”
A flicker of doubt crossed Yu Qingling’s heart, but she quickly raised her head, her gaze resolute. “No, that’s not true!”
Xu Fengnian wiped the rim of his wine bowl with his sleeve, handed it to Madam Song, then took a swig directly from the jar. Calmly, he said, “Truth be told, whether Liu Huaixi kills or not is trivial. He doesn’t get to choose his allegiance. Before I arrived, his only option was to cling to Western Shu. The man is a liar through and through—some truths, some falsehoods. For instance, when he said the offers from Western Shu and Southern Border were real, but the conditions from Liyang’s imperial court were worthless, that was a lie. He refused because he knew those promises were empty—no matter how grand, he’d never taste them. The Western Shu faction under Chen Zhibao might tolerate a rogue general like Liu Huaixi ruling Snow Lotus City, but they’d never let him lead his men elsewhere. The moment he steps beyond the city, he’s a dead man. So, his true allegiance lies with the Northern Wilderness, which he believes will win. He’s waiting—only when they take Tiger Head City and invade Liangzhou will he declare himself. If the Northern Wilderness falters, he’ll settle for Western Shu. But Chen Zhibao would never value a man like him or his ragtag troops—he’d dismantle them without hesitation. Of course, this was Liu Huaixi’s plan before meeting me. After tonight, he’s desperate. He’ll openly pledge loyalty to Northern Liang, which he doesn’t believe in, while secretly scrambling to contact Western Shu. If you don’t believe me, I can have Madam Song assign you to spy on General Liu’s mansion and his dealings with Western Shu. You’ll be sorely disappointed in him.”
Xu Fengnian suddenly laughed. “But you, Yu Qingling, wouldn’t last long before rushing to Liu Huaixi’s side. A few sweet words, and you’d soften again. Can’t blame you—no spy training can compete with the heart’s desires.”
Yu Qingling lowered her head again, biting her lip hard.
Life is short, love is long.
Xu Fengnian stood and walked to the window, gazing at the bustling, paradise-like nightscape of Snow Lotus City. “It must have been hard for Liu Huaixi to resist taking you. Did he promise you he’d only bed you after a proper wedding?”
Yu Qingling finally broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
Madam Song had Meng Li escort Yu Qingling away for strict confinement, then joined Xu Fengnian with a bitter smile. “Forgive this unseemly display, Your Highness. I’ve disappointed you.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head in silence.
Madam Song forced a smile, dropping the humble address. “I’m curious—why show Yu Qingling such tolerance? If it were up to me, I’d have killed her without hesitation.”
Leaning on the windowsill, Xu Fengnian smiled faintly. “Simple. My mother once told me that in hard times, women suffer more—especially beautiful ones, trapped by circumstance. So she told me to never bully them if I could help it, and to treat them kindly when possible.”
Madam Song studied the young man, her smile softening. “A pity I was born a decade too early.”
Xu Fengnian turned, blinking. “Madam, aren’t you just twenty this year?”
The usually unflappable Madam Song flushed like she’d downed a thousand cups. “Is that so? But when I first met the Great General and his lady with my mistress, I was already sixteen.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled.
They stood side by side at the window until Madam Song murmured, “Spring nights are fleeting, Young Master Xu. Will you retire now? Need company?”
Xu Fengnian deadpanned, “My bed’s a bit small.”
Madam Song scoffed, straightened, and turned to leave, tossing over her shoulder, “Still afraid of being devoured by an older woman? Twenty, my foot!”
Xu Fengnian called after her, “Visit Northern Liang someday. My sister would be delighted.”
She paused, sighed softly, shook her head, and left.
—
Xu Fengnian fetched another wine jar and leaned against the window, watching the glittering city. After sipping half of it, a knock came. “Enter.”
Swordsman Shao Mu entered with the young refugees from Snow Lotus Tower. Shao Mu clasped his fists. “Young Master, I’ve received the snow lotus. Within six months, I’ll head to Northern Liang to serve you.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “I trust you.”
Ma Shanggong, the Ma Family Fort’s young mistress, mustered her courage. “Hey, Sword Immortal, did you beat that Tuoba Pusa?”
Xu Fengnian joked, “After the fight, I coughed up pounds of blood. What do you think?”
The girl gasped. “That bad?!”
The boy added timidly, “Uncle Shao said your opponent was the second strongest in the world—the Northern Wilderness’s War God! Losing to him isn’t shameful.”
Xu Fengnian looked at the grateful Shao Mu. “I leave Snow Lotus City at dawn. Could you visit Ma Family Fort? Take Meng Li from Snow Lotus Tower—he’s a second-rank master.”
Shao Mu agreed without hesitation.
The boy suddenly blurted, “Sword Immortal, that deceitful old man loves lying. Can you tell me the truth? If I train, can I become strong? If not, I’ll stick to picking lotuses.”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Your talent’s mediocre, but your luck’s decent—meeting that old man, Shao Mu, and most importantly, me. So here’s my advice. Want it?”
The boy nodded eagerly.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Pathetic!”
Xu Fengnian said, “I had a friend who wandered the martial world alone before becoming a peerless swordsman. Let Shao Mu take you on a journey through the Central Plains. If it’s too lonely, elope with Miss Ma here.”
The boy flushed, torn between excitement and fear, grinning foolishly at the girl.
She pointed at Xu Fengnian. “What kind of Sword Immortal abandons his disciples and eggs them on? If Hong Shuzhi wants to wander, fine—but he’s following you! Teach him swordsmanship!”
Xu Fengnian teased, “Not even married yet, and already planning his future?”
She jutted her chin defiantly. “Just say yes or no!”
Shao Mu ruffled the boy’s hair, then mock-glared at the girl. “What, Miss Ma, my skills not good enough? I may not compare to the Sword Immortal, but I held my own against Liu Huaixi for hundreds of rounds. Back home, sons of fourth- and fifth-rank officials beg to learn from me. Don’t bite off more than you can chew—or Hong Shuzhi might ditch you for getting fat.”
Blushing furiously, the girl huffed, “Uncle Shao, you’re no better! Hong Shuzhi will turn rotten with you!”
She dragged the boy out to plot their grand adventure.
Shao Mu bowed. “Take care, Senior.”
Xu Fengnian hesitated. “I’m younger than you.”
Shao Mu blinked. “Senior is… humorous.”
As Shao Mu left, two women entered—Huang Chunyu, the Violet Bamboo Fairy, and the sharp-tongued Lu girl.
Xu Fengnian sighed inwardly. Was he now a sought-after courtesan?
The Lu girl, now in feminine attire, demanded, “You crippled Zhang Wuhou! Aren’t you afraid of revenge?!”
Ignoring her, Xu Fengnian addressed Huang Chunyu. “What brings you?”
More worldly than the brash Lu girl, Huang Chunyu curtsied gracefully. “Elder Ruan has left Snow Lotus City to retrace a predecessor’s journey. He asked me to tell you he has no regrets and knows your identity but will never reveal it. He also vows to compose an epic in your honor.”
Xu Fengnian leaned against the sill, his gaze warmer. “Good.”
Huang Chunyu’s eyes shimmered. “Of Western Shu’s ten scenic wonders, nearly half are in or near our Jingwei Sword Mountain—the Bamboo Sea, Lao Jun Pavilion, the Stone Buddha, and the Moonlight Cauldron. Should you ever visit, I’d be honored to guide you.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “If I pass through, I’ll stop by.”
He added casually, “I once traveled to Qingcheng Mountain but missed Jingwei Sword Mountain. Is your sect’s patriarch still alive? He’s been in seclusion for years.”
Huang Chunyu hesitated—such matters were sensitive.
Xu Fengnian didn’t press. “If he’s passed, pour him a drink for me. If not, tell him I admire the grandeur of his *Indomitable Sword Qi Scripture*, especially the ‘Drawing the Heavenly River’ and ‘Cleansing Armor’ techniques.”
She nodded demurely.
The Lu girl, ignored, snapped, “Do you know who I am?!”
Xu Fengnian retorted, “Are you Empress Yan Dongwu? Xuanyuan Qingfeng of Huishan? Or Chen Yu? No? Then get out.”
She lunged, screeching, “I’ll bite you to death!” Huang Chunyu hastily dragged her away.
At the door, Huang Chunyu turned back. “Oh, Elder Ruan has decided on the poem’s title—*A Snowy Stride of the Reckless Blade*.”
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