Xuanyuan Qingfeng arrived with such speed that when she collided with Xu Fengnian, many martial artists watching from rooftops saw a violet streak stretching from the southern city to the street outside Xiamawei Posthouse. The trail began faint, deepening gradually until it became a rich, heavy purple.
The female leader of the martial world swept across half of Tai’an City, stirring immense commotion. Her speed was so swift that thunderous booms erupted along the rooftops she passed.
First, they saw the violet; then, they heard the thunder.
The purple-robed woman from Huishan Mountain’s Great Snowy Peak plummeted from a tavern rooftop straight toward the black-gold python robe embroidered with nine five-clawed pythons.
A deafening crash echoed through the street. Centered around the python robe and the purple figure, the scattered leaves on the ground—instead of being blown aside as expected—swirled unnaturally before being violently yanked toward the two combatants, only to disintegrate into dust midair three to four zhang away. Among the debris, a single withered phoenix tree leaf stood out, inexplicably spared from the overwhelming energies. It fluttered like a yellow butterfly around the two, spinning so rapidly it dazzled the eyes. Though its path was erratic, each time it lightly grazed the bluestone street, it produced a metallic clang!
Inside the tavern, Li Yibai of Dongyue Sword Pool had already led his junior siblings to the window. A seasoned swordsman renowned for his chivalry, Li Yibai was no less esteemed than Qi Jiajie’s top disciple in the capital. Gossips even dubbed them the “Twin Lis of the North and South Sword Forest.” However, unlike the narrow-minded Li Haoran, Li Yibai understood the depth of the martial world and carried himself with far greater grace. When he requested three prime window seats, the tavern patrons obliged—after all, watching the spectacle at Xiamawei was worth more than slighting Li Yibai.
The white-clad girl Shan Eryi tugged Li Yibai’s sleeve and whispered, “Why is this fight so intense? Even if Xuanyuan is slightly stronger than Qi Jiajie, she shouldn’t last this long against the Northern Liang King, right?”
Having witnessed the young prince kill Qi Jiajie in an instant, Li Yibai knew better than most how terrifying Xu Fengnian’s combat prowess was. On his way back to Tai’an from Taoshu Town, he and his sect master, Chai Qingshan, had speculated that even a second-rank master—let alone someone at the Finger Profound realm—might not survive a single strike from Xu Fengnian. His martial arts were not only diverse but deadly, reminiscent of the ruthless Han Shengxuan. In life-or-death battles, a single realm’s difference meant certain death—swift and decisive.
But against a Heavenly Phenom realm grandmaster? Li Yibai and Chai Qingshan disagreed. Li Yibai refused to believe that those just below the Land God tier would be helpless before Xu Fengnian.
Unwilling to speculate, Li Yibai ignored his junior sister’s disdain for the martial alliance leader and shook his head. “Xuanyuan is a prodigy destined by fate. Even across the entire world, including the Northern Desert, only she can match the Northern Liang King’s ascent in martial arts. Years ago, she intercepted Wang Xianzhi on the Guangling River. Now, with her deepened cultivation, it’s no surprise she can hold her own.”
As he spoke, his gaze grew distant. On the street, the purple and black-gold figures intertwined like dragons coiling around a mountain—a breathtaking sight. He vividly recalled his first encounter with Xuanyuan Qingfeng at Kuai Xue Villa by Spring God Lake, where she dominated the martial elite with unstoppable momentum, leaving even him awed. Standing atop Huishan, she was a figure beyond reach for nearly all of Liyang’s young talents.
Shan Eryi, tired of rumors about Xu Fengnian and Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s supposed entanglement, scoffed inwardly. Even if Xu Fengnian had gifted most of the Listening Tide Pavilion’s martial manuals to her, she refused to believe there was anything between them. A woman so cold and eerie, no matter how skilled or beautiful, was simply unlikable.
Grinning, she asked, “Senior Brother Li, do you think the Northern Liang King is going easy on her to spare her pride? If she’s humiliated in Tai’an, how can she remain the martial alliance leader?”
Song Tinglu rolled his eyes. “Master said Xuanyuan Qingfeng is a true Heavenly Phenom, no weaker than Xuanyuan Pan’s brute-force ascension. Such warriors, in both physique and mentality, are beyond ordinary masters. Do you really think Xu Fengnian is invincible? Liyang still has Cao Changqing and Deng Tai’a! He might strut in Northern Liang, but outside it, things are different. Just wait—once those two step in, he’ll be exposed!”
Chai Qingshan, unlike his juniors, didn’t stand idly by. Eyes closed, he focused intently on the two auras clashing in the street.
With a sigh, the swordmaster vanished from his spot, reappearing on the tavern’s front steps like a passing autumn breeze.
Across the street, the Wu family’s patriarch, Wu Jian, extended a hand from his sleeve, two fingers lightly tapping the windowsill.
An indistinct curtain of sword energy rose along his side of the street, rippling like water. Onlookers felt a sudden chill, as if plunged into a deep pool on a scorching day.
Chai Qingshan stamped his foot, and the entire street trembled violently.
After the two swordmasters’ actions—one tapping, one stomping—everyone noticed the countless cracks spiderwebbing outward from the epicenter of the clash, some thick as wrists, others thin as earthworms. They surged toward the buildings like a flood, terrifying spectators who’d only come to glimpse the Northern Liang King, never expecting to risk their lives. Fortunately, the cracks slowed upon meeting Wu Jian’s sword-energy barrier, climbing upward until their momentum visibly waned.
Meanwhile, the cracks racing toward Chai Qingshan’s side exploded in a cloud of dust upon reaching the line where he stood.
Li Yibai lamented, “Xuanyuan Qingfeng lost to the Northern Liang King, and our sect master lost to the Wu family patriarch.”
Song Tinglu grumbled, “Master and Wu Jian both used Finger Profound sword techniques to block Xuanyuan’s energy. Master met force with force, hence the commotion. Wu Jian was sneakier, using flashy moves to appear superior. Had Master used our sect’s secret ‘Mountain High, Water Deep, Sword Qi Long’ technique, he wouldn’t have lost!”
Shan Eryi, lacking sect pride, retorted, “Master used his trump card; Wu Jian barely tried. Doesn’t that mean Master lost in both skill and demeanor?”
“Junior Sister!” Song Tinglu scowled.
Annoyed, Shan Eryi gripped her sword. “What? Got a problem?”
Song Tinglu muttered, “Autumn’s high and air crisp, autumn’s high and air crisp…”
Li Yibai suddenly warned, “Watch the Northern Liang King!”
Xu Fengnian and Xuanyuan Qingfeng stood two zhang apart, facing each other.
Xu Fengnian stood with hands behind his back, calm and composed.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng showed no fatigue from their life-and-death clash, though the knot in her skirt had come undone.
The knot was loose.
Holding the withered leaf, she said coldly, “In three years, when I reach the Land God tier, we’ll settle this at Great Snowy Peak.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “If I’m still alive then, I’ll visit Huishan—whether you’ve ascended or not.”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng pinched the leaf, her aura darkening.
Xu Fengnian’s lips moved soundlessly, but she understood: using him as a whetstone to ascend now was premature. In Tai’an, with Cao Changqing, Deng Tai’a, Xu Yanbing, Chen Zhibao, and Luo Yang all watching, she wouldn’t get her chance.
She remained expressionless.
On the dragon-clawed locust tree, Hehe Girl frowned, the branch beneath her trembling. But after a moment’s hesitation, she stayed put.
Suddenly, the “corpse” on the street sprang to life, this time unleashing a full-blown sword strike.
The “corpse” became a whirlwind, sword tip blazing with white lightning, carving a trench through the street as shattered stones flew.
The attack mirrored Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s earlier entrance but was far more sinister.
Those who noticed expected a bloody clash, but the assassin abruptly veered mid-charge, leaping toward a rooftop to escape.
Xu Fengnian didn’t spare him a glance, instead looking toward a tavern entrance.
The fleeing figure froze mid-air, suspended like a broken porcelain doll held together by invisible threads.
The Zhao Gou leader, who’d feigned death and rejuvenated through forbidden arts, was now truly dead.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng shot into the sky, a purple streak vanishing into the distance.
As most watched her departure or the frozen assassin, a middle-aged scholar with graying temples stepped through the tavern door.
Bathed in sunlight, the scholar didn’t turn to face Xu Fengnian.
Xu Fengnian smiled, shaking his sleeves lightly.
At the street’s end, an unremarkable swordsman appeared—then another, and another, each identical in appearance and aura, yet holding their swords differently.
The lead swordsman wielded his blade in the famed “Reverse Grip of Tai’a” stance.
They—or rather, he—advanced down the bluestone road toward Xiamawei.
One man, many swords.
Meanwhile, the scholar let a chess piece slip from his fingers, watching it fall slowly.
Once it descended half a chi, he strode toward Xu Fengnian, back to the approaching swordsmen.
As the piece fell, every sword in the street—regardless of how it was held—remained pointed forward, yet their blades bent downward unnaturally.
But the strangeness didn’t end there.
The young prince in the python robe stood unmoving, yet beside him, spectral figures materialized:
An old man in sheepskin, hands behind his back, gazing skyward with indifference.
A short, gap-toothed elder with a sword case, grinning.
A barefoot giant in hemp robes, arms crossed, aura towering.
A tall Daoist in Wudang robes, fingers poised as if to sever a river.
A stern-faced monk in black, rubbing his bald head.
A eunuch in crimson python robes, fingers interlaced at his waist.
…
Chai Qingshan, lacking all decorum, plopped onto the tavern’s threshold, staring at the straw-sandaled elder beside Xu Fengnian.
His gaze grew distant.
The Wu family patriarch leaned on the windowsill, smiling.
The eunuch overseer paled.
Chen Zhibao finally neared the window, trailed by the plain-clothed eunuch Song Tanglu, who eyed the crimson-robed elder with mixed emotions.
On the locust tree, the marten-capped girl stopped chewing her pancake—whether full or saving some for someone.
The great battle loomed!
All held their breaths. Silence reigned; a pin drop would echo.
※※※
Three of the world’s four grandmasters.
Three Land Gods of Liyang.
The new Martial Emperor, Xu Fengnian.
The Grand Secretary, Cao Changqing.
The Peach Blossom Sword God, Deng Tai’a.
Gathered in the capital.
A three-way standoff.
Each prepared to fight two at once!
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