In the private quarters of Qingyang Palace, Qingcheng King Wu Ling Su sat across from his son Wu Shizhen. Though his martial arts cultivation was mediocre, Wu Ling Su exuded a divine aura comparable to the Celestial Masters of Dragon and Tiger Mountain. Holding a delicate celadon teacup, he gently wafted away the rising steam. Wu Shizhen, however, had no appetite for tea, his face brimming with resentment.
Wu Ling Su sipped his tea and smiled. “Still fuming at that young prince who’s even prouder than you?”
Gritting his teeth, Wu Shizhen replied, “I only resent my lack of power. I don’t hate Xu Fengnian—I actually admire the son of the Northern Liang King. He’s no vile good-for-nothing; he’s a master of feigning weakness. Both Liang and Yong and Quan provinces were deceived by him and his father, that butcher of generals! Nobody saw through their act.”
Wu Ling Su nodded. “This is best kept between us. Those who’ve seen through it already know. Those who haven’t will only laugh if we tell them. Since our position is lowly, we must have the patience to bow low. It’s not cowardice; it’s wisdom. Son, I founded the Shenxiao Sect, mocked by Longhu and Wudang. But a few centuries from now—who knows who will be high and who will be low? Looking into the early records of Dragon and Tiger, their founding masters were far more destitute than I. I’ve at least been ennobled, claiming the sacred caves and blessed lands of Qingcheng. This legacy of mine must last a hundred generations if we are to rival other Daoist sects. That’s why I brought you here—not to let your grudge against Xu Fengnian interfere with our hundred-year plan. At first, I only wanted to soothe your temper and see if you’d grasp the grand destiny of Qingyang Palace. Now I see my worry was unfounded. My son, you are indeed destined for greatness. If your ambition was limited to a single mountain and palace, I’d never let you go to the capital.”
Wu Shizhen smiled. “Father, precisely for this reason, I’ve come to ask your permission to go to the capital.”
Wu Ling Su lowered his gaze to his tea. “Then so be it.”
Wu Shizhen asked, “Then how should we deal with Xu Fengnian? Avoid all contact? If not, how do we set boundaries?”
Wu Ling Su gazed out the window at the unnaturally stormy sky. “Avoid contact? You’re mistaken. If Qingyang Palace is to thrive, we cannot ignore the thirty thousand Northern Liang iron riders behind the butcher Xu XIAO. Let me tell you this: if Xu Fengnian somehow survives and truly becomes King of Liang, serving under him as a dog would be no shame. But if Xu Xiao meets an untimely end, or dies of age, and the Crown Prince fails to rise, then you may freely trample upon the fallen. I’ve already selected several precious manuals for you to take tomorrow. Once in the capital, the more you speak of the Crown Prince’s tyranny and moral failings to the nobility, the happier Xu Fengnian will be. Only then will the Qingyang Palace’s bond with the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion be truly cemented. Do you think those scholars and officials who curse the General publicly are truly loyal enemies of Northern Liang? No! Many of them are in fact the General’s old allies and disciples. But such rotten truths are better left untouched. Even the powerful Chancellor Zhang Julu, with all his authority, has no time to chase them down. This is the bitter irony of the court—only in times of chaos do traitors and patriots reveal their true faces, like the fallen kingdoms of Xichu and Dongyue.”
Wu Shizhen softly said, “If father entered politics, he could stir both clouds and tides, no less than Chancellor Zhang.”
Wu Ling Su pointed at his son and laughed. “Forgot who taught you such flattery? Save it for others. In the capital, you’ll have all the chances you need to shine.”
Looking out the window, Wu Shizhen murmured, “Truthfully, I envy Xu Fengnian. Those hundred Northern Liang cavalry he brought up the mountain—they’re clearly far fiercer than Yongzhou’s elite soldiers. If a hundred are this strong, how fearsome are his claimed thirty thousand iron riders? If he rebels…”
Wu Ling Su barked, “Silence!”
Wu Shizhen chuckled. “Just thinking aloud. I know the consequences.”
※※※
Once the Northern Liang Queen’s armored maid, she later became a Daoist nun, unexpectedly completing the “Lingbao Sutra” for the Qingcheng King and devising the famous Shenxiao sword formation. If even a servant girl was so remarkable, how magnificent must the Queen herself have been on the battlefield? Zhao Yutai murmured, “Come, come, come, listen who beats the beauty’s drum—Wu’s daughter wears white. Come, come, come, see who is the butcher of men—Xu’s banner rides the hunt. Young Master, the lyrics are splendid. They say the Second Princess once carved ‘banished thirty thousand miles’ on the statue of Zhenwu on Wudang Mountain. Only a woman like her could compose such stirring Northern Liang songs. Yet in my eyes, she’s more the general, and you, Young Master, are more the lady. If only you’d taken up the sword instead of the saber! For ten years, I’ve waited on the mountain for this day. I’ve kept the Daoliang Longque sword, always unwilling to let it lie idle. Young Master, tomorrow you descend the mountain—take the sword your Lady once made heroes bow for, and don’t let it rot here. She once told me, when you meet a fine lady who wields a sword, this blade shall be your bride-price. Alas, she could not deliver it herself…”
Xu Fengnian whispered, “Alright. I’ll take Daoliang Longque. Auntie, but I can’t promise I’ll find a woman like my mother. I might spend my life without ever giving it.”
Zhao Yutai reached out and touched the young prince’s chin. The once-dainty boy now had stubble. Her face softened with genuine tenderness, nothing like the harshness she showed Wu Ling Su and Wu Shizhen. Gazing at Xu Fengnian as one would a beloved relative, she said, “The seemingly cold-hearted often hides the deepest feelings. Any woman loved by you would be blessed beyond measure. You’re just like your father in this. I only hope you find her soon, settle down, and share your life with her, rather than forgetting each other in the wuxia world and high court. My Lady once said, all paths of martial and heavenly Dao ultimately rest on feeling. Without feeling, there is no great Dao—only chasing shadows and scooping water with a bamboo basket. That’s why the Daoists say one cultivation uplifts all beings, and the Buddhists speak of great compassion. Compared to your strategic mind, I rejoice more in your loyalty to old friends like Meng Lao Tou and Xiao Shan Zha.”
Xu Fengnian sighed. “But such loyalty won’t win me the army’s loyalty.”
Zhao Yutai, her long pent-up grief finally lifting, smiled playfully. “Wait until you reach the Northern Liang border and fight alongside your father. Then it will all fall into place. They say the Second Princess dislikes your saber-wielding. Hold firm, Young Master! A real man who fails to lead troops and kill enemies himself—it’s shameful!”
Xu Fengnian made a face. “Auntie, conquering a kingdom is quite the task, and if I do succeed, who’ll reward me? Maybe the Emperor will just hope the Xu family line ends sooner rather than later.”
At this thought, Zhao Yutai’s face darkened, though her voice remained calm and chilling, echoing her sword’s deadly precision. Her eyes red, she said bitterly, “When the empire was just stabilized, the Queen was already six months pregnant with you. When the Emperor heard from his diviner that she might bear a son, he hurried to discard the horse that had pulled him through the mill. That day, Lady secretly confronted four masters in the imperial palace—the Three Fingers and the Heaven Gazer. She survived, but suffered grievous, incurable wounds. Only a few quiet years in Northern Liang, and then…”
Xu Fengnian gazed silently at the lantern pavilion across from him. On the mountain peak, without warning, a sudden storm broke. After the rain, mist curled through the peaks. Thousands of lanterns bloomed, and in the pavilion, Xu Fengnian and Zhao Yutai, joined by Qingniao outside, seemed to drift in a fairyland.
A guttural roar rolled through Qingcheng’s depths.
Xu Fengnian asked in surprise, “Auntie, what is this?”
Zhao Yutai smiled. “A beast born hundreds of years ago lives here—the Hukui. In its youth, it has one horn and four legs; in adulthood, two horns and six legs, covered in black scales. When enraged, its body turns crimson. This adult female, once hidden deep in the uninhabited mountains, recently grew close to Qingyang Peak, driven by hunger after conceiving. I once challenged her, but my sword was broken in her jaws. Neither of us could prevail. Eventually, I let her roam freely near Qingyang Peak. According to ancient records, a Hukui pregnancy lasts three years. It’s near time for her to give birth.”
Listening to the continuous roars, Zhao Yutai murmured, “The Hukui seems to have met a match. Could there be another creature or person in Qingcheng capable of facing her?”
Xu Fengnian was baffled.
That night, Xu Fengnian still heard two distinct roars echoing until deep into the night.
The next day, Xu Fengnian descended the mountain, carrying a red lacquered sword case.
Inside was the Daoliang Longque sword.
King Qingcheng Wu Ling Su personally saw him off at the Zhusui Pavilion. Wu Shizhen respectfully presented three sacred manuals.
In the bell tower stood Daoist nun Zhao Yutai.
Armored maid no more, she deeply wondered—who would one day wield the Daoliang Longque sword to avenge the young master her Lady cherished most, to beat the beauty’s drum once more.
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