They say there are no walls in this world that wind cannot pass through. Though the walls of Tai’an City are high, the winds are strong, and the ears of informants are countless. Thus, rumors spread with astonishing speed to every corner. Not long after the new Liang King arrived at the Xiamawei Posthouse, news of the conflict between the Northern Liang cavalry and the Western Army of the capital region had already spread far and wide. As a result, what should have been a routine reception of the feudal lord into the city by the court, led by the Minister of Rites, now carried an unusual undertone. While most common folk praised the Emperor’s magnanimity, they spared no effort in condemning the young feudal lord’s arrogance and rudeness, believing the court should have left this northwestern barbarian outside the city walls until he came to his senses and submitted a memorial begging for the Emperor’s forgiveness before allowing him entry.
Compared to the ignorant commoners, the civil and military officials of Tai’an City—especially those qualified to attend morning court audiences, who had effectively entered the inner circles of the Liyang court—should have been the most confident in dictating terms to the Northern Liang’s military and governance. Yet this time, they remained uncharacteristically silent, with few daring to echo baseless accusations. For instance, the low-ranking but prestigious censors and supervising secretaries, after private discussions, unanimously abandoned any plans to impeach the young feudal lord. The reason was simple: as that carriage entered Tai’an City, not only did the confrontation between the Northern Liang light cavalry and Generals Zhao Gui and Yuchi Changgong come to light, but so too did the shocking news of the Northern Liang’s crushing victory over the Northern Mang. At such a sensitive time, impeaching a military commander who had achieved the greatest border victories of the new dynasty would be futile, no matter how many reasons one could muster.
In contrast, the Liao border army, funded by half the nation’s taxes—how many enemies had they killed in twenty years? Even ten thousand? According to Liyang military law, eighty Northern Mang heads could elevate a low-ranking soldier to the rank of border army captain. Yet this time, the Northern Liang had not only slaughtered countless enemies but also taken the head of Northern Mang’s Grand General Yang Yuanzan. If rewards were to be distributed based on merit, how great would this achievement be? Since that brat Xu Xiao had already been ennobled as a feudal lord, the Liyang scholars’ dream of being enfeoffed as marquises or appointed as chancellors held no meaning for him. Could it be that the late Emperor had barely stripped the old Liang King of his title as Grand Pillar of the State before the current Emperor was forced to reinstate it?
Meanwhile, lower-ranking capital officials began to privately mock the Northern Mang barbarians’ incompetence. Earlier, the eastern front army had aggressively advanced all the way to the Xia Guangcheng in the Hulu Pass—how had they suddenly become so feeble? Tai’an City even extended its complaints to the Grand General Gu Jiantang, who had reached the pinnacle of officialdom. The Northern Liang’s three hundred thousand border troops had driven the Northern Mang’s million-strong army back to their homeland, while the Liao border army—equally numerous—had achieved nothing. Forget about thunder without rain; for twenty years, the Liao army hadn’t even produced a decent clap of thunder!
Xu Fengnian arrived at the Xiamawei Posthouse accompanied only by Xu Yanbing. The eight hundred White Horse Righteous Followers were housed in nearby posthouses arranged by the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Rites. Upon disembarking, Xu Fengnian noticed that the posthouse officials were all unfamiliar, younger faces compared to his last visit to the capital. Their eyes betrayed deep fear when they saw the Northern Liang King clad in his black-and-gold python robe.
Xu Fengnian looked up at the dragon-clawed locust tree outside the posthouse. The tree remained, but the people had changed.
The Xiamawei Posthouse had always been exclusively for the Northern Liang circuit and was one of the few posthouses built within the capital. Since the old Liang King Xu Xiao rarely visited the capital after his enfeoffment, the posthouse had languished in obscurity over the years. Officials from the Ministries of War and Revenue had repeatedly proposed its abolition, to the point where it became an unwritten rule for new officials in these ministries to submit memorials on the matter—almost like a rite of passage. Anyone who dared not submit such a memorial would inevitably face ostracism from senior colleagues. However, both the late Emperor and the current Emperor had maintained a delicate silence on the issue, leading seasoned officials to joke that if the Xiamawei Posthouse were ever demolished, life would become dull.
Xu Fengnian was familiar with this posthouse. He requested a specific room in the rear courtyard from the postmaster, surnamed Hong. After the trembling postmaster bowed and retreated, Xu Fengnian carried two wicker chairs under the eaves, one for himself and one for Xu Yanbing. This sudden trip to the capital, which seemed impulsive to those at Qingliang Mountain, was not without dissent. However, Xu Fengnian’s control over the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry and the entire Northern Liang bureaucracy had reached its peak. Apart from Xu Beizhi’s outburst when they met in Lingzhou, only Song Dongming sent a discreet letter via the Fushui Fang spies, worded cautiously to express disapproval of Xu Fengnian risking his life—likely echoing the sentiments of veterans like Yan Wenluan. Only Bai Yu, via the Wutong Courtyard, sent a belated letter expressing approval.
Xu Yanbing said softly, “The Second Princess suggested bringing Hu Yan Daguang to the capital. You should have agreed. A centipede dies but never falls. The Liyang Zhao family is far from its twilight. Even without top experts like Han Shengxuan, Liu Haoshi, and Qi Jiejie, and with the Qi Tianjian’s cultivators greatly diminished after two upheavals, this remains the foremost city of the realm—not to be underestimated.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “I didn’t invite Hu Yan Daguang, and the Zhao Emperor didn’t summon Gu Jiantang to the capital. Let’s call it even.”
Xu Yanbing sighed. “If the imperial decree had arrived any later, our Northern Liang would have parted ways with the Zhao family.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “A fight wouldn’t have broken out. Zhao Zhuan’s intention was to test my limits with the Western Army of the capital region. If we had been accommodating, he would have felt emboldened to make outrageous demands. If I’m not mistaken, the eunuch sent to deliver the decree was instructed to appear at the last possible moment. No matter what, a battle in the capital region was never an option. If it had come to blows, seven thousand elite troops being routed by eight hundred cavalry would have been a humiliation for the Emperor and the court. Even if the Western Army had won by sheer luck, the aftermath would have been a mess.”
Xu Fengnian deliberately emphasized the word “elite,” prompting a knowing smile from Xu Yanbing. “The Northern Liang’s local garrisons—never mind Liangzhou or Youzhou—even Lingzhou’s troops are tougher than them.”
Xu Fengnian refrained from mockery. “The Liyang military still retains its foundation from the Spring and Autumn era. Unfortunately, twenty years of peace have dulled their edge. Yearly drills can’t compare to real battlefield experience. A blade, whether sharpened or not, makes all the difference. But given a few years of war, they might not be so bad. For instance, if our Northern Liang were to declare independence, at best we’d be a small Northern Mang—doomed to be outpaced by Liyang’s rising strength. If the Northern Liang went all out, assuming the Northern Mang didn’t interfere, a lightning strike on Tai’an City could seize Huaiyang within a month—no more than a month. The Northern Liang Iron Cavalry could devastate Liyang’s entire northern line, including Jizhou, with fewer than twenty thousand casualties, and stand before Tai’an City’s gates.”
Xu Fengnian rested his hands behind his head, gazing at the capital’s sky. “But breaching the capital would be incredibly difficult. The terrain around the capital favors cavalry only in the south. By then, not only would Gu Jiantang’s Liao border army, Prince Zhao Sui of Jiaodong, and Prince Zhao Xun of Jing’an intervene, but even the Southern Frontier army might march north. The former would seek to earn merit by protecting the Emperor, while the latter would scheme for greater gains. And let’s not forget the ambitious Chen Zhibao, or capable figures like Lu Shengxiang and Tang Tieshuang. A prolonged war in Guangling could propel Xie Xichui and Kou Jianghuai to fame. If the Northern Liang allied with Western Chu, our chances would improve. Conversely, a cornered Liyang could always seek aid from the Northern Mang.”
Xu Fengnian murmured, “Even if all the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry were willing to follow me as rebels, how many would die far from home? How many across the realm would perish? If this allowed the Northern Mang’s cavalry to flood the Central Plains, forget about being branded a traitor for eternity—even Xu Xiao wouldn’t rest easy in his grave.”
Xu Yanbing said sincerely, “Governing is harder than martial arts. A single-minded martial artist can still become a grandmaster, but a stubborn official has no future. If that’s true for officials, imagine feudal lords or emperors.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Following one’s heart is difficult. Perhaps it’s better to settle for a clear conscience.”
Silence fell between them.
Xu Yanbing suddenly asked, “What’s next?”
Xu Fengnian replied softly, “Wait for the capital’s momentum to build. When the time is ripe, I’ll attend another court session. After that, whether it’s Huan Wen or Qi Yanglong who meets me—whether they appeal to reason, emotion, or threats—I’m genuinely curious.”
The Lu family of Jiangnan, with two ministers in its ranks—former Minister of Rites Lu Daolin and former Minister of War Lu Baijie—had both left the capital, one retiring to his hometown and the other transferring to Guangling. On the surface, their situation seemed better than the Song family, which had produced two great scholars. But beneath the undercurrents, as long as they lived and without final verdicts in the form of posthumous titles, no one could predict their ultimate fates.
Kong Zhenrong of the Ministry of War, Yan Chiji of the Hanlin Academy.
Chen Wang, Sun Yin, Lu Xu.
Grand Scholar Yan Jiexi, Vice Minister of Rites Jin Lanting.
And the two factions of capital nobility led by Yin Changgeng and Wang Yuanran.
It seemed Xu Fengnian had more acquaintances in the capital than expected.
Xu Yanbing frowned. “But what if the court refuses to budge on the grain transport issue?”
Xu Fengnian’s answer stunned even him. “With no imminent war between Liang and Mang, if Liyang refuses to deploy the world-renowned Northern Liang Iron Cavalry and stands idle as Western Chu wins battle after battle, it would be utterly disgraceful. I, Xu Fengnian, am more than willing to help the court solve its problems. In short, if the court is too stingy to provide grain, it doesn’t matter. The Northern Liang will still send troops—not just any troops, but the Great Snow Dragon Cavalry to Guangling!”
Xu Yanbing rubbed his chin. “If I were on the throne, I’d have a headache.”
Xu Fengnian sat up, smirking. “Not just a headache—they’ll ache all over!”
At that moment, Xu Yanbing glanced at the courtyard wall, his lips curling into a cold smile.
Xu Fengnian sighed. “This reminds me of Qi Jiejie in Taoshu Town. Their grand entrances are cut from the same cloth—more eager to flaunt their sword aura than even Huang Qing.”
Postmaster Hong entered the courtyard with a grimace, cautiously announcing, “Your Highness, a guest seeks an audience outside the posthouse.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Understood. Go tell him I said to get lost.”
The postmaster’s face twitched, but he bowed and retreated.
Soon, a voice loud enough to be heard two streets away boomed, “I am Li Haoran, first disciple of Qi Jiejie! I challenge the Northern Liang King to a duel to the death!”
Xu Fengnian was torn between laughter and exasperation.
Xu Yanbing clicked his tongue. “Is this guy out of his mind? A duel to the death?”
Coincidentally, another loud voice, panting and frantic, interrupted, “Damn it! I don’t care whose disciple you are! I got here first! If I hadn’t needed to relieve myself, you wouldn’t have cut in line! If anyone’s fighting the Northern Liang King, it’s me! Me first! I’m Wu Laifu, a hero from Jinzhou in Liaodong! Today, I boldly request a spar with Your Highness! Boldly! Very boldly!”
The self-proclaimed hero, nearly upstaged by Li Haoran, added, “Your Highness, we’re actually fellow townsmen!”
Xu Fengnian, seated in his wicker chair, facepalmed.
Xu Yanbing asked, “Should I just deal with them?”
Xu Fengnian stood, amused. “No need. I’ll go meet my fellow townsman.”
But when Xu Fengnian stepped outside, he found the street eerily quiet, with only a dashing young swordsman standing there and countless heads peering from windows of nearby teahouses and taverns.
Puzzled, Xu Fengnian turned to the postmaster. “What about the guy from Jinzhou?”
The postmaster looked odd. “Your Highness, for some reason, before even seeing you, he shouted ‘There’s killing intent!’ and… ran off.”
Xu Fengnian was speechless.
This guy was something else.
He had the same flair as someone from back in the day.
Li Haoran, his grand entrance ruined by the interloper, had been scowling. But when he saw the Northern Liang King in his python robe, his heart inexplicably raced, his sword spirit clouded, losing the clarity he’d had moments before.
To make matters worse, the Liaodong rascal Wu Laifu suddenly reappeared, jogging up to Li Haoran with a rusted black-sheathed saber at his waist. Grinning foolishly, he said, “Your Highness, as per tradition, I’ll go first. I had some urgent business earlier—just a quick trip to the next street. Today, I won’t impose too much. If you can withstand one strike from me—just one!—I’ll leave without another word. Deal?”
Xu Fengnian smirked. “Sure.”
The onlookers watched as the man took a step forward, roared, and drew his blade—but didn’t advance.
Then… nothing.
Li Haoran took a deep breath and looked skyward.
The street fell silent.
After an agonizing wait, the saber-wielder sheathed his weapon, clasped his fists, and declared, “Your Highness is truly skilled, having reached the profound realm of wielding no blade yet holding one in the heart! In this clash of titans, I admit defeat! The mountains remain green, the rivers flow—until we meet again!”
With that, the “master” turned on his heel, tossed his head, and strode away.
Exuding the “aura of a true expert.”
“Damn it! I waited forever, and you didn’t even swing!”
“Piece of trash! ‘Clash of titans’? More like a clown show!”
“Wu Laifu, was it? I’ll remember you! Just wait till I find someone to beat you senseless!”
The street erupted in curses. Some furious spectators hurled teacups and wine bowls out windows; the more hot-tempered flung chairs onto the street.
Several groups, unable to contain their rage, charged into the street to teach the impostor a lesson—only to find he’d vanished. They couldn’t help but marvel: whatever his martial skills, the man could run.
Finally, the blue-robed swordsman Li Haoran, having regained his composure, said gravely, “Your Highness, shall we duel now?”
The crowd perked up. At last, the real show was about to begin.
As Qi Jiejie’s top disciple and a renowned swordsman in the capital, even if Li Haoran couldn’t defeat the illustrious young feudal lord, he ought to last thirty or forty moves, right? That would at least justify the exorbitant prices they’d paid for their prime viewing spots.
But Xu Fengnian ignored Li Haoran, his gaze fixed on the street’s end.
Three figures—tall and short, young and old—stood shoulder-to-shoulder, silent and still.
Behind them, farther back, a man carried a green-clad child on his shoulders.
Then, a young Daoist priest emerged from around the corner, a peachwood sword at his waist, his robes fluttering like an immortal’s.
Xu Yanbing had appeared beside Xu Fengnian unnoticed.
Xu Fengnian paid no heed to these “greeters” sent by Tai’an City. Instead, he looked up at a tavern rooftop and stifled a laugh.
A peculiar little girl in a cheap mink hat sat there, munching on a large pancake, utterly at ease.
Xu Fengnian’s mood instantly brightened.
His radiant smile stunned the wealthy young women among the spectators, who swooned at the sight.
The girl on the rooftop scoffed.
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