A grand and imposing caravan entered Youzhou of the Northern Liang from Hezhou in the Huainan Circuit, heading straight for Wudang Mountain.
The procession was personally escorted by the imperial guards of the capital, their scabbards wrapped in eye-catching golden silk threads. Among them were nearly twenty elite palace guards, each wearing copper-yellow embroidered fish pouches at their waists.
Trailing far behind this caravan on the post road was another extravagant entourage, its coachmen all being top-tier martial artists with profound and enduring auras.
At this time, the Liyang Dynasty was suppressing Buddhism and promoting Daoism. Across the land, wherever there were strategic geographical locations or sacred mountains and rivers, new Daoist temples were rising from the ground, their celestial music echoing throughout the Central Plains. Among them, the Xingyang Temple in Tai’an City was built with the grandeur of an imperial palace, housing statues of five emperors, including the founding emperor and his successor, arranged according to ancient rites on either side of Daoist sages. The temple’s gate tower was constructed with materials from the imperial palace’s Cloud Pavilion, while the Hall of Laozi was built with materials from the Ganquan Hall. The temple’s screen wall was adorned with a grand depiction of the Thirty-Six Grotto Heavens and Seventy-Two Blessed Lands of Daoism, leaving all who saw it in awe. For a time, the Xingyang Temple stood as the foremost Daoist temple in the realm, and its master, Wu Lingsu, was the very Daoist who had personally sealed the gates of the Two Zen Temples. Now, he was the undisputed leader of northern Daoism, giving rise to the saying, “The Xingyang Temple in the capital, the twin ancestral courts of north and south.”
Just as the world learned that the white-robed monk of the Two Zen Temples was to debate a Daoist from Wudang on Lotus Peak, news spread that the illustrious “Feathered Minister” of Tai’an City, in his official capacity as head of the Chongxuan Office, would journey to Wudang Mountain in Northern Liang bearing an imperial decree posthumously honoring the late Wudang elder Huang Manshan as the “Perfected Being of Emptiness and Virtue.”
Inside one of the carriages sat a middle-aged Daoist of transcendent bearing, clad in purple-gold robes, resting a purple horsetail whisk adorned with three golden rings on his arm, a faint smile on his lips. Beside this esteemed Daoist sat a young man who bore a striking resemblance to him, also dressed in Daoist robes but with a more worldly air compared to his father’s immortal demeanor.
The young man chuckled and said, “Father, I thought once we crossed the Hezhou border marker, the Youzhou military would at least send a few hundred cavalry to intimidate us. It seems that Xu fellow isn’t truly lawless after all—he still fears you greatly.”
The middle-aged Daoist was none other than Wu Lingsu, who had risen meteorically in the capital. Moving from obscurity to prominence, he recalled how, upon first arriving in Tai’an City, the arrogant nobles had mocked his hollow title of “King of Qingcheng.” At banquets, they would sarcastically address him as “Your Highness” while barely concealing their disdain. But those bitter days had passed quickly. The Dragon-Tiger Mountain, through its own incompetence, had been humiliated repeatedly by a certain young man surnamed Xu. The mysterious Daoist who had secluded himself there perished, drawing the wrath of both the late and current emperors. With the suppression of Buddhism being the trend of the times, Wu Lingsu had seized the moment, stepping over both Dragon-Tiger Mountain and the Two Zen Temples to reach the pinnacle of power.
Wu Lingsu glanced at his only son, Wu Shizhen, with mild displeasure. He, the official Chongxuan Minister, was on his way to Wudang Mountain to deliver an imperial decree, yet his son had dragged along a group of Tai’an City’s spoiled young nobles. Among them was the so-called “First Young Master of the Capital,” Wang Yuanran, whose father, Wang Xionggui, had already been demoted from Minister of Revenue to the dangerous post of Provincial Governor of Guangling. If not for the lingering favor of the “Unswerving Elder” from the Yonghui era, Wang Yuanran, with his shallow cunning, would have long been devoured by the capital’s political wolves.
Wu Lingsu sighed deeply. “Shizhen, in my view, the noble youths of the capital are divided into tiers. Take Wang Yuanran—though his father has been demoted, he may yet rise again. And with the Unswerving Elder watching over him, befriending him isn’t a bad idea. But compared to Yin Maochun’s eldest son, Yin Changgeng, or Han Lin’s only son, Han Xingyan, Wang Yuanran falls far short. Even Fan Changhou, Li Jifu, and Gao Tingshu—outsiders to the capital—outshine him. As for that worthless Yan brat, his family is barely clinging to life. So you—”
Wu Shizhen, ever the socialite among the capital’s elite, smiled. “Father, I understand what you mean. But some things can’t be rushed. Take Zhao Wenwei, Yin Changgeng, and Han Xingyan—their fathers were all protégés of Chief Minister Zhang, yet they wisely parted ways early. Their fathers have good reputations, and so do they. Even if I groveled, they wouldn’t accept me. Rather than waste effort, I’d rather focus on Wang Yuanran and his ilk.”
Wu Lingsu sighed. “Petty schemes won’t achieve greatness.”
Wu Shizhen grimaced. “I’d love to curry favor with Vice-Minister Chen, but he won’t even spare you a glance, let alone me.”
Wu Lingsu stroked his horsetail whisk and murmured, “Our foundation is still too shallow.”
Wu Shizhen leaned closer and whispered, “Father, if we can humiliate that Xu fellow during this trip, your standing in the emperor’s eyes will soar. At the very least, I can push Wang Yuanran and his fools into provoking Northern Liang. Once they return to the capital and stir up trouble, the Xu family’s reputation will be ruined.”
Wu Lingsu hesitated. “That man dares to reject imperial decrees. On his own turf, how could Wang Yuanran and his ilk possibly challenge him? As for the capital’s censure, the Xu father and son have never cared. Be careful not to drop a rock on your own foot. Northern Liang’s intelligence network has held its own against the imperial spies for years—they’re not to be underestimated. Wang Yuanran and his lot are more trouble than they’re worth.”
Wu Shizhen smirked. “I don’t expect to break Xu’s bones—just rattle him a little. That’s good enough.”
He recalled the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of his peer back in Qingcheng Mountain and said darkly, “Even if Xu catches wind of our schemes, would he really dare to kill over such trivial matters?”
Wu Lingsu suddenly asked, “That Liu fellow from Hezhou in the rear entourage—he claims he once struck Xu with a scabbard. Is it true?”
Wu Shizhen grinned maliciously. “Most likely. According to Liu Chengfeng, back when Xu Fengnian was traveling incognito with an old servant, they passed through Hezhou and got into a street brawl. Liu smashed Xu’s forehead with a Liang blade’s scabbard. Xu supposedly threatened to bring ten thousand Northern Liang cavalry to trample Hezhou, to which Liu retorted, ‘Who the hell are you?’ Xu then asked, ‘Xu Xiao is my father—who do you think I am?’ Of course, Liu didn’t believe him. After hitting Xu with the scabbard, he even drew his sword and chased him half a street. It wasn’t until last year, when storytellers in Hezhou taverns spun wild tales, that Liu realized Xu Fengnian had indeed once roamed the martial world in disguise as a prince. He was terrified—especially when Xu later rejected the imperial decree and sent Youzhou cavalry to pressure Hezhou. Not just Liu, but his entire family fled the city in panic. Only when the Youzhou army showed no signs of attacking did they cautiously return.”
Wu Lingsu found this amusing. “But didn’t Youzhou cavalry later march into Jizhou? They would’ve passed through Hezhou.”
Wu Shizhen burst into laughter. “So the family fled again! Fortunately, the Youzhou cavalry eventually returned via Hulu Pass, sparing Liu’s father the need to resign and flee south. Ironically, the Liu family benefited—all of Hezhou now knows of the ‘hero’ who dared to strike the Northern Liang King. Liu’s father even received a rare ‘Above Average’ rating in the recent provincial evaluations. Now Liu Chengfeng, being old friends with Song Tianbao, tagged along to Youzhou after falling for the daughter of a former Vice-Minister of Justice in the entourage. He probably figured Xu Fengnian wouldn’t hold a grudge.”
Wu Lingsu, no longer the self-proclaimed “king” of a backwater, sneered. “Rumor has it Song Tianbao’s grandfather, the wealthiest man in the two Liao regions, clashed with Xu Xiao back in the day. With Liu Chengfeng, Wang Yuanran—who fought Xu Fengnian in the capital’s Jiujiu Restaurant—and their ilk, it’s true what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”
Wu Shizhen’s expression turned awkward—after all, he was one of those birds.
—
The next day, the first Buddhist-Daoist debate was to be held on Lotus Peak. With Wudang Mountain already packed, the nearby towns at the southern foot were also overflowing with visitors. Two groups arrived at a place called Taoshu Town, each seeking lodging in starkly different ways.
One group of about ten people barely managed to secure rooms at a small inn on the eastern end of town, paying exorbitant prices for what would normally be mid-tier accommodations. The innkeeper barely glanced at their travel permits before pocketing the money. “So what if they’re from the capital? They’ll pay through the nose like everyone else.” The names of these guests, however, were anything but ordinary: the middle-aged swordsman was Qi Jiejie; the seemingly perfect young couple, Yin Changgeng and Zhao Chunyuan; the handsome youth, Zhao Wenwei; the two scholarly youths in blue robes, Han Xingyan and Gao Shilian. The attendants’ names were far less refined.
The other group, over twenty strong, headed straight for the best inn in town. Upon hearing it was full, one of them slapped down over five hundred taels of silver notes and demanded the entire place be cleared out. The elderly innkeeper, annoyed by their bureaucratic airs, thought, “Six hundred taels? My inn charges over a hundred a day at market rates. You want three days? Five hundred’s a joke.”
Rolling his eyes, the innkeeper said, “We don’t turn away guests.”
The young master with a thick Hezhou accent pulled out another five hundred taels without a word. The innkeeper eyed the crisp stack of notes, torn between greed and principle.
Not one to hide his wealth, the young man waved a hand, and a lackey tossed out two large gold ingots. The innkeeper’s eyes gleamed—silver was father, but gold was grandfather! Who needed principles when “elders” like these were involved? Still, he pushed his luck. “There are already over thirty guests. My staff might not be able to persuade them to leave.”
At this, several hands rested on sword and knife hilts. The innkeeper panicked. “Wait, don’t start trouble! Anyone who causes a scene in Northern Liang is done for!”
Snatching up the silver and gold, he hurried upstairs to negotiate. Playing it smart, he not only offered refunds but even sweetened the deal with extra silver, claiming the inn was being commandeered by Northern Liang border troops—who could refuse?
Fortune smiled on him. The guests, mostly minor officials or martial artists with no real influence, quickly cleared out at the mention of the dreaded border army.
Among the first group was Qi Jiejie, the foremost swordsman of the capital, who had once taught the imperial princes and even Zhang Gaoxia, daughter of the “Green-Eyed” minister.
The reason for his escort duty was simple: every one of these young nobles, if dropped into the Jiangnan region, would be fawned over by officials and elites. Their families included the deputy of Chief Minister Qi Yanglong, former Minister of Personnel Zhao Youling, the once “top candidate for future chief minister” Yin Maochun, Duke of Yan Gao Shizhi, and Vice-Minister of Justice Han Lin.
Yin Changgeng and Zhao Chunyuan were a married couple whose union, initially opposed by both families, had been arranged by the then-fourth prince—now emperor—and had become a capital love story.
Zhao Wenwei, the “child prodigy,” was Zhao Youling’s beloved youngest son. Han Xingyan, son of Vice-Minister Han Lin (soon to be promoted to Governor of Huainan), was betrothed to a virtuous princess of the Zhao clan.
Gao Shilian and Gao Shiqing were the doted-upon children of Duke Gao Shizhi. Though privileged, they kept a low profile in the capital. Gao Shilian was close friends with the son of Grand Pillar of the State Gu Jiantang, while Gao Shiqing was Zhao Chunyuan’s childhood confidante.
Thus, under Qi Jiejie’s protection, this illustrious group made their way through Northern Liang, their presence a quiet storm in the making.
It can be said that these young men are already the cream of the crop among the aristocratic offspring in the Liyang court.
The military governor of Huainan Circuit is Cai Nan, formerly the top confidant of Gu Jiantang. Han Lin has just taken office as the economic commissioner of Huainan Circuit, and there will inevitably be frequent interactions in the future. Meanwhile, Gao Shilian maintains excellent relations with both of Gu Jiantang’s sons. Many matters cannot be discussed openly among the high-ranking officials—neither over a shared table nor through tacit understanding. However, when “unworldly” juniors step in, things often proceed much more smoothly.
At this moment, they are all gathered in Yin Changgeng’s room. Coincidentally, the window overlooks the street. Han Xingyan stands by the window, watching the slow procession of the Northern Liang’s elite cavalry, and remarks with a smile, “One falling leaf heralds the autumn—the combat prowess of the Northern Liang border troops is truly terrifying.”
Gao Shiqing teases him, “Oh, now that you’re the son of a prestigious second-rank economic commissioner, your courage has grown too. Daring to speak well of Northern Liang?”
Han Lin raises his hands in surrender, signaling he’s ready to take any scolding.
Gao Shilian can’t help but defend Han Lin, glaring at his sister. “With that mouth of yours, who’d ever marry you?”
Gao Shiqing shoots him a fierce glare in return. “Shut up!”
Gao Shilian mutters under his breath, his usual refrain, “Having such a sister is truly a curse.”
Gao Shiqing, who yearns most for the chivalrous world of martial arts, grips her sword hilt threateningly. “Looking for a beating, aren’t you?”
Yin Changgeng, the oldest and most composed among them, sighs helplessly. “If you want tea, stay. If you want to argue, take it outside.”
Zhao Chunyuan, who is brewing tea, waves at Gao Shiqing. The young Zhao Wenwei chuckles and asks, “Brother-in-law, why did Wang Yuanran and his group arrive at the foot of Wudang Mountain before the Wu family’s Daoist masters?”
Yin Changgeng reveals the truth softly, “The Wu Daoist deliberately slowed his pace, waiting until the final day of the Lotus Peak debate to ascend and announce the imperial decree. The earlier haste was to avoid interference from the Youzhou military, lest they miss the opportune moment. Now that the Youzhou forces remain silent, they can afford to take their time.”
The town is small—leaning out the window, one can see from east to west. Han Xingyan frowns. “Seems like Wang Yuanran’s group is stirring trouble again. They act like this in the capital, but even in Northern Liang, they refuse to behave.”
Yin Changgeng says calmly, “Let them be.”
Gao Shilian leans on the windowsill and sneers coldly. “Quite the spectacle. Worthy of the so-called ‘Four Young Masters of the Capital’ traveling together—such grand airs. These parasites, living off their fathers’ achievements, not only indulge in luxury but also harm others! If they ever rise to high office, what will they do besides ruining the nation?”
Yin Changgeng frowns. “Mind your words.”
Gao Shiqing sticks her tongue out at her brother. “Hear that? Even Brother Yin tells you to shut up.”
Gao Shilian clasps his hands together, murmuring, “Heavens above, just send down any man to marry this girl off already.”
Zhao Wenwei puffs out his chest. “Second Brother Gao, what about me? Am I worthy of Sister Gao?”
Gao Shilian’s lips twitch, torn between laughter and exasperation.
Gao Shiqing smacks the boy’s head. “I changed your diapers when you were a baby!”
Yin Changgeng smiles. “Enough, enough. Stop fooling around and sit down for tea. This is some of the last of the Spring God Lake tea we have.”
Gao Shiqing barely sits before jumping up again, grinning. “No way. Only a fool would miss out on the excitement. I’m heading to the other side of town to check it out.”
As she speaks, she cautiously glances at Yin Changgeng, whose soft-spoken words carry the most weight. He looks up at her and says slowly, “We agreed in the capital—three strikes. You’ve already had two in the capital and Jinan. If there’s a third, you’re going straight back to the capital.”
Gao Shiqing beams. “Understood!”
She dashes out of the inn, sprinting down the street toward the most presentable inn in Taoshu Town. She doesn’t get too close, though—she’s no stranger to Wang Yuanran, the lecherous Yan, or the rotund Song. The Yan family estate, in particular, neighbors her own Yan Duke’s residence. Gao Shiqing holds immense respect for the late General Yan Zhenchun, but she has loathed his eldest grandson, the crooked heir, since childhood. After the general’s heroic death, the family received an honorary posthumous title, and the lecherous Yan has been strutting around ever since, even daring to propose marriage to her family. Gao Shiqing nearly arranged for him to be bagged and sunk in a lake.
True to form, the lecherous Yan is now harassing two young women in the street, surrounded by his cronies. Gao Shiqing is surprised—rumors say Northern Liang women are tall and sturdy, but these two are delicate and fair. The sword-bearing one is moderately attractive, but the other is stunning, with an aloof demeanor that would challenge any man’s pride. No wonder Yan couldn’t resist. Wang Yuanran is likely watching from the inn above.
Yan twirls a closed sandalwood fan, smirking. “I’m a scholar, not some brute who forces himself on women. I’m just hospitable—inviting you ladies for tea, poetry, and moon-gazing. I’m from the capital and curious if the moon here is as round as in Taian. Surely you won’t refuse?”
The swordswoman scoffs. “Refuse your ass!”
Yan laughs. “Feisty! A fiery Northern Liang rose—just my type.”
As she reaches for her sword, her companion stops her—a squad of the infamous Northern Liang cavalry arrives. The squad leader asks sternly, “What’s the trouble?”
The swordswoman points at Yan’s group. “These capital brats are harassing us in broad daylight—”
Yan interrupts innocently, “Harassing how? I haven’t laid a finger. Just chatting.”
The squad leader’s hand rests on his saber. “Finished chatting? Then scram back to your inn. If not, continue—I’ll listen too.”
Yan, unused to such humiliation, grits his teeth and glances at a young man beside Liu Chengfeng. The youth steps forward, forcing a smile. “My father is the former governor of Huanggong County in Youzhou, and my brother was a former Eight Passes Commandant. We’re all on the same side.”
The squad leader replies coldly, “Neither your father nor the current governor has authority over me. As for the Eight Passes Commandant—that’s an honorary title, right? Even honorary generals mean nothing in Northern Liang now. Same side? Who the hell are you to claim that?”
Gao Shiqing is stunned. In any other part of Liyang, a local noble’s appearance would have sent a lowly squad leader groveling—or even siding with the bully.
The squad leader turns to the women. “Looking for lodging? If you trust me, there’s a decent inn down the street—pricey, but rooms are scarce now. If you can afford it, consider it.”
The swordswoman smiles. “Thanks, brother.”
The squad leader glares at the capital youths. “I’ll escort you.”
Just then, a tall youth beside Yan sneers, “Northern Liang savages!”
The squad leader, already mounted, halts and dismounts. He removes his armor and saber, handing them to a comrade. “Ma Biao, take the ladies to the inn.”
He turns to the insulting youth, limping slightly. “Without my armor and saber, I’m not on duty today.”
The tall youth jeers. “What, cripple? Want a fight? Careful—I might break your other leg.”
The squad leader, Tao Niuchu, smiles. “Kill me if you can.”
The youth beckons mockingly.
※※※
Near the Elephant-Washing Pool, Xu Fengnian is alone, moving books to dry in the sun. Suddenly, a Youzhou commandant and a spy leader appear. Xu Fengnian looks up from a book. “Speak.”
The spy reports swiftly, “Your Highness, at Taoshu Town, sixty-four cavalry and twenty-seven spies are confronting twenty-three men led by Wang Yuanran, son of the Guangling Circuit economic commissioner. The cause—”
Xu Fengnian cuts him off, ordering the commandant, “Luo Hongcai, take five hundred cavalry down and attack—no negotiations.”
After a pause, he adds, “They likely have elite guards. Sui Tieshan, assign four top-tier spies to accompany Luo.”
Luo hesitates. “Your Highness, truly attack?”
Xu Fengnian grins. “Not to death.”
He clarifies, “Half-dead is enough. Let the world praise Northern Liang’s hospitality afterward.”
As the two leave, Luo muses, “Our prince is truly a scholar, eh?”
Sui retorts, “Why not flatter him to his face?”
Luo rolls his eyes. “Well, isn’t it true?”
Sui wipes his mouth, smiling. “Absolutely!”
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