The Azure-clad Dragon King swung his pole, blocking the river and capsizing ships, sending men and steeds tumbling into the water. In an instant, the river became a scene of chaos and uproar. Many soldiers of Feng Zi’s unit could not swim and, with jagged reefs jutting out everywhere, nearly drowned after just a few moments in the water. General Ning Emei seized one armored soldier with one hand, and with the other, astonishingly lifted the soldier’s mount—a towering, pitch-black steed. This warrior wielding a great halberd singlehandedly hoisted both man and horse onto the deck. Without hesitation, he immediately dove back into the water. His iron halberd marked with the character “Bu” was a treasured heirloom from his adoptive father; Ning Emei had sworn he would rather drown than let it sink. At that moment, the youth in the blue robe floated in on a small boat, stirring the waters with his staff. Had he had his halberd at that moment, he might never have been tricked by that strange assassin.
Xu Fengnian, while watching Ning Emei break the surface of the water, had already drawn his Xiu Dong saber. In one swift motion, he chopped the ship’s railing into a dozen pieces and kicked them into the Yanzi River. Leaping down, he landed lightly upon one of the shattered railings, bent low, grabbed a Northern Liang soldier, and flung him back onto the ship. At the same time, Lü Yangshu and his two companions, along with Qingniao, dove into the river like snow-landing cranes, each rescuing men and horses with elegance and speed. The remaining sailors and deckhands gazed in stunned silence as they saw one figure after another darting upon the water like dragonflies. They had thought this squad of warriors crossing the river was simply battle-hardened, but who would have guessed they harbored so many divine martial experts? Particularly that dashing young noble in white robes and jade belt, wielding twin sabers—not for show, mind you. If the young man, who arrived and departed as gracefully as a drifting boat borne upon the river gods, was the Dragon King of Yanzi River, then this young master was a white dragon crossing the waters, exuding an aura of ethereal elegance.
Xu Fengnian made four or five passes across the river, his breathing deep and steady, exhaling once for every six inhalations. He showed no signs of fatigue. Standing atop a shattered piece of railing he had cut himself, he cast his gaze toward the looming ghostly gateway of Dongling Gorge, frowning slightly. Most of the soldiers and steeds who had fallen into the river had already been saved, but there were still two who were about to crash against the rocks of the ghostly pass. He couldn’t make it in time to save them. Boaters had always feared hidden rocks more than the wildest waves. Two Northern Liang warhorses slammed into submerged reefs with a thunderous crash, leaving streaks of blood in the water, quickly swept away. Xu Fengnian pushed off the railing with the tip of his foot, soared toward a rock, and then launched himself forward once more. Only one man was about to crash into the rocks. Xu Fengnian glanced back and saw Ning Emei, who had just rescued a comrade, holding his halberd, his expression grim with concern.
Suddenly inspired, Xu Fengnian shouted, “Ning Emei! Throw me your halberd! Help me out!”
Ning Emei took a step back with his right foot, roared in fury, and hurled his iron halberd—a massive weapon weighing eighty catties—forward. It flew straight toward the soldier closest to the rocks. Xu Fengnian caught the halberd mid-air, using its momentum to propel him forward. At the very last second, he snatched the Feng Zi cavalryman from the water. The halberd slammed into the rocks, pinning them there. Xu Fengnian hoisted the light cavalryman up and, with one more leap, finally rescued the last drowning soldier. Together they sat atop a rocky outcrop jutting from the river. The river surged and roared around them, drenching Xu Fengnian’s luxurious robes, but his brow mark gleamed brightly. The cavalryman, coughing up water, gazed up at Xu Fengnian’s expressionless face in stunned disbelief—was it truly this young prince, who had been rumored throughout Northern Liang to be ruthless and indifferent to life, who had just saved his?
The main ship drifted toward them, and Ning Emei pulled his halberd from the rocks, hauling his comrades aboard. Xu Fengnian helped the dazed soldier onto the ship’s prow. The commander, Yuan Meng, wore an expression of conflicted awe, and many of the cavalrymen gawked in silent disbelief. Xu Fengnian ignored them and simply ordered, “General Ning, take a headcount. Any soldier who lost their steed shall be held accountable and must redeem themselves with future exploits.”
Ning Emei bowed solemnly and replied, “At once!”
Even Yuan Meng instinctively bowed his head and murmured, “This humble officer hears and obeys!”
Wet through, Xu Fengnian stepped into the cabin, where Qingniao waited to help him change clothes. Xu Fengnian frowned, saying, “Luckily this happened above Shujian Beach, where most of the rocks are visible. Had we been further down at Ghost Gate, where hidden reefs lie thick as stone forests during low water, and the channel narrows even more, then those who fell would have surely perished. That Azure-clad man—who was he? A single strike of his pole capsized our ship. We can’t just call his strength ‘lion-like’ anymore—it’s more like an elegant technique, almost resembling the sword arts. Auntie gave me a manual atop Qingcheng Mountain on how to counter Wu family’s Withered Sword techniques; I’ve just realized that the move that bamboo-poled fellow performed resembles something from the Wu Sword Tomb—like their ‘Mountain-Tipping’ stroke. Could it be Wu Liuding, this era’s Sword Champion?”
Qingniao, holding Xu Fengnian’s hair while combing it gently with an ivory comb, replied softly, “Whether he is Wu Liuding or not, Young Master, the way you saved those men was truly pleasing to behold. Even Ning Emei and Yuan Meng were shouting your praises just moments ago. Especially that flying dash with the halberd—this servant couldn’t help but cheer inside.”
Xu Fengnian looked down at his reddened palm and chuckled dryly, “Compared to flipping a boat with one staff strike, I still have a long way to go. Unless Old Sword God Li Chungan were to lend a hand, no one could have stopped that fellow who might have been Wu Liuding. All we could do was watch him drift off, which irks me. But speaking honestly, whether that move was indeed the Sword Tomb’s ‘Mountain-Tipping’ or not, Auntie’s decades of sword cultivation insights, combined with the boxing manual taught to me by the Taoist cowherd on Wudang Mountain, with its axiom, ‘Let mountains be heavy—still I shift ten thousand jin with but an ounce,’ gave me a sudden stroke of inspiration. I suppose that’s a good thing after all. I must find Lü Qiantang to drill my blade techniques urgently.”
After surviving this tribulation, the Dongling Gorge displayed even more bizarre peaks and jagged rocks. The river grew narrower, winding and treacherous, filled with peril. Only three vessels navigated its narrow path, narrowly avoiding collision with the rocks time after time, a sight thrilling and breathtaking.
Xu Fengnian reappeared at the bow, where two young kuiz played happily at his feet. The old man wrapped in sheepskin had approached from behind without sound, grinning as he quipped, “Young man, your grip on people’s minds has sharpened. If I hadn’t known that Azure-clad swordsman wasn’t one of your men, I might have suspected this entire episode was staged.”
Xu Fengnian scoffed, “I’m not that resourceful.”
He pressed further, “So he really used a sword?”
The Old Sword God nodded and said, “Would I not know whether he wielded a blade? Those from the Wu Sword Tomb carry upon them a unique flavor of stale, dry sword energy. But this young swordsman has pursued a martial path the Wu family refuses to walk. His future achievements may well surpass those of past Sword Kings—provided he passes the trials of the East Yue Sword Pond and defeats Deng Tai’a. Once he does, breaking into Heaven-Piercing realm will be no great feat. Should he fail, his sword will truly dry to dust. What did you think about that Mountain-Tipping move? Scared? Then how about I teach you the ‘River-Reversing’ technique? Carrying twin blades must be tiresome—lend me one, and I’ll show you what it means to turn a whole river upside down with a single slash.”
Xu Fengnian retorted, “Over my dead body.”
The old man dug into his ear and sniffed, “So timid. How can you ever achieve greatness?”
Xu Fengnian murmured thoughtfully, “What was Wu Liuding trying to accomplish with that strike?”
Annoyed, Li Chungan replied, “Are you dense or just foolish? On the martial path, one seeks fame. Otherwise, why would Wang Xianzhi call himself the Second Strongest Under Heaven? Or why would Deng Tai’a parade around with his peach blossom branch? With a name, battles become legitimate. Who would bother with an unknown nobody? When I was young, I fought everyone without hesitation, slicing through foes like melons just to prove myself. Later, I grew older and lost that urge to compete. That annoying Daoist, Qi Xuanzhen, ruined my cultivation—arguing sword principles with him left me so mentally shaken, I never crossed into the Land Immortal realm, not even reaching Heaven-Piercing. My arm was severed, and I was sealed beneath the Tingchao Pavilion. But that misfortune led me back to Heaven-Piercing. So, Young Man, you ought to show me a little respect. There are only a dozen Heaven-Piercing experts in the entire world—maybe even fewer, just a handful.”
Xu Fengnian stretched his arm as a snowy-furred falcon landed upon it. He removed a small bamboo tube from its leg and unfurled the secret letter inside, his expression growing puzzled.
Old Li had just proclaimed himself among the rare Heaven-Piercing cultivators, yet now shamelessly leaned in to peek. Xu Fengnian didn’t mind. Even Li Chungan’s expression shifted to astonishment before he muttered, “I knew it—when Wang Chonglou gave you the Yellow Court Scripture, it was a life-draining deal. But for Hong Xixiang, the new Daoist Abbot, to ignore the four lower stages of Diamond and Divine Insight and leap straight into Heaven-Piercing? Young Man, don’t play games with me—tell me the truth. Is this real?”
Xu Fengnian sighed, “If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t believe it. But if it’s that cowherd, I do believe it.”
Li Chungan gazed toward the river, a dreamy expression on his face: “That’s exactly what Qi Xuanzhen did back then. Twenty years of no progress, then one moment of enlightenment and he reached Heaven-Piercing; ten years later, he was already a Land Immortal.”
Xu Fengnian cast the secret message into the river and smiled, “Whether Heaven-Piercing or Land Immortal—let them be. I’ll stick to my sabers.”
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