Chapter 851: Rest Assured

Xu Fengnian closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Finally, he exhaled.

It was as if he intended to expel all the resentment in his chest with that single breath and draw in the fortune of the world.

But logically, this was the worst possible moment to exhale.

Xie Xie’s lips curled slightly as he raised his arm and lightly flicked a finger forward. “What is improper, do not see.”

For nearly eight hundred years, my Confucian school has set the rules for the world.

Xu Fengnian, you may refuse to bow to the heavens, but since you still live in this world, how can you not bend to the will of the earth and sky?

As the scholar’s finger pointed, two jade seals exploded toward Xu Fengnian’s eyes.

Xie Xie moved his fingers again, speaking with an air of utter indifference. “What is improper, do not hear.”

Two more jade seals flew toward Xu Fengnian’s ears.

When Xie Xie uttered the words, “What is improper, do not speak,” the fifth jade seal, as if sentient, immediately responded.

The beam beneath Xie Xie’s feet, stretching out from the Tongtian Pavilion, groaned under the strain, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface before it shattered with a deafening sound.

Life and death hung by a thread.

Xu Fengnian smirked.

When fortune favors, even heaven and earth lend their strength.

The world has its principles before it has its propriety. Xie Xie, you may believe yourself the arbiter of ritual and order, but that doesn’t mean you embody the world’s truth. At the very least, the Yan Sheng Gong, who entrusted me with something before his departure, doesn’t think you’re in the right!

Suddenly, a pendant slipped from Xu Fengnian’s waist, revealing a square object.

Just as the five jade seals were mere inches away, Xu Fengnian’s mind stirred.

What is improper, do not act.

Not only did the square jade seal tremble violently, but the other four jade seals not yet controlled by Xie Xie also shook uncontrollably.

Years ago, when the young heir returned from his second journey, an old man pointed to a piece of meat cut from a feudal lord and told his son that from then on, he would have to rely on himself when arguing with others.

Now, storming the Imperial Observatory in Tai’an City, no matter how ruthless his methods of killing and breaking formations, the young feudal lord’s expression remained calm and composed, at least without any trace of fury or savagery.

Suspended in the air by a golden rope, Xu Fengnian began to move, “walking” toward the Tongtian Terrace, toward Xie Xie, who had schemed against him and Northern Liang at every turn.

The rope stretched into a semicircle, and the tips of the Yulei Sword wielded by the founding ancestor of Longhu Mountain and the hands of the Lotus Crown Immortal crackled with lightning. Both immortals stomped their feet simultaneously, struggling desperately to halt the rope’s swift momentum.

Xie Xie’s face twisted in shock and fury as his gaze darted to two locations—one atop the palace roof, the other outside the southern gates of Tai’an City, and further south into the capital region. “Zhao Zhuan, you brat! Tantai Pingjing! Yan Sheng Gong! How dare you conspire to ruin my grand design!”

With the golden rope still piercing his shoulder, Xu Fengnian swung his blade.

Standing on the beam of the Tongtian Terrace, Xie Xie grabbed four jade seals, arranging them in a line to shield himself from Xu Fengnian’s strike.

Then, he vanished in a flash, leaving the four jade seals to plummet straight to the ground. The beam beneath his feet snapped in two with a thunderous crash.

A single slash.

The towering Tongtian Pavilion was cleaved in half!

High in the sky, hundreds or even thousands of feet above, the residual force of the blade collided with something unseen.

The two immortals exchanged glances, then released the rope simultaneously.

After delivering his strike, Xu Fengnian turned with a savage grin. “Think you can escape?!”

The Lotus Crown Daoist, with a red thread creeping up his sleeve, sighed. He yanked the entire rope back, allowing the two crimson threads to coil freely around his sleeves. He nodded faintly at the young Daoist, who had abandoned the Yulei Talisman Sword, his expression complex.

Those two scarlet threads, like tiny snakes, were infused with the deathly aura of Han Shengxuan and the sword energy of Qi Jiejie—both loyal servants of the Zhao imperial family.

Using the fate of the Liyang Zhao dynasty to strike at the fate of the Longhu Mountain Zhao family—a paradox, yet a stroke of brilliance.

This must have been the trump card the young feudal lord used earlier to break the immortals’ purity.

The next moment, the Lotus Crown Daoist, knowing escape was impossible, stood a few steps away from the founding ancestor of Longhu Mountain and bowed lightly in farewell.

Better for one to fade into the cycle of reincarnation than for both to perish in the mortal realm.

A mirror appeared behind the old Daoist.

It was the Moonwell, the sacred artifact of the Nanhai Guanyin Sect, which had suppressed countless individuals of great fortune throughout history!

The old Daoist was dragged inexorably into the well, murmuring softly, “As long as the heavens stand, the incense shall never extinguish. I bid farewell to our ancestor as he returns to the Heavenly Gate.”

The “young” Daoist, who seemed more like the old man’s descendant, ignored the Lotus Crown Immortal’s noble sacrifice. Instead, he raised his hands and pressed them to his chest, asking, “One—where is it?”

The few remaining immortals of Longhu Mountain in the Imperial Observatory square wore expressions of sorrow and dread, their grief mingled with an indescribable awe.

How had their unprecedented descent into the mortal realm ended in such tragedy?

Only Zhao Xiyi and Zhao Danxia, the younger immortals of Longhu Mountain, seemed at peace. They exchanged a smile—tinged with bitterness, but devoid of fear.

A voice laced with heavy mockery rang out above the founding ancestor’s head. “At your grandmother’s house!”

The young immortal looked up, his anger finally breaking through. “Do you truly believe I wouldn’t dare to perish with you, Xu Fengnian?!”

Xu Fengnian hovered high above, unwilling to waste words. Just as he prepared to strike, his shoulder jerked as if someone had tapped it.

A soft voice whispered in his ear.

“Kid, not bad. You’ve shattered Xie Xie’s wretched bowl. Leave the rest to me. Don’t thank me, Deng Tai’e. This sword—I grasped it yesterday at Xiamawei.”

“This sword is called ‘Will.’”

“If you think the name’s no good, you can rename it later—something more imposing. Like Sword Nine Huang’s final move—that was a fine name.”

“If fate allows, we’ll meet again on the battlefield beyond Northern Liang’s borders.”

Xu Fengnian froze.

Deng Tai’e’s final words lingered: “I’m leaving now, but someone else is coming. That sword…”

In the distance, atop the wall where Cao Changqing and Luo Yang stood, the Peach Blossom Sword God had already vanished.

The woman in white said calmly, “Xu Ying, stay. I’m leaving. If we need not meet again, then let this be farewell.”

Without waiting for the crimson-robed woman’s protest, Luo Yang turned and strode away.

Further off, as Deng Tai’e unleashed his sword, the young boy beside Chai Qingshan widened his eyes, while the girl closed hers.

They likely didn’t yet realize that this single act of opening and closing their eyes would forever divide their paths in swordsmanship.

The martial arts masters near Chai Qingshan were all thrown to the ground, utterly shaken by Xu Fengnian’s blade and Deng Tai’e’s sword.

No sooner had they struggled to sit up than they were knocked flat again.

A sword came from the south, then another from the north.

But in the fleeting moments between those swords—

The founding ancestor of Longhu Mountain’s expression darkened, but he swallowed his rage and refused to look at Xu Fengnian. Instead, he shouted toward the heavens, “Open the Heavenly Gate!”

Xu Fengnian gripped his blade with both hands and gazed skyward.

If you dare open the gate, I’ll cut it down along with the heavens!

And then the sword arrived.

It pierced effortlessly through the founding ancestor’s skull, and in the Imperial Observatory square, every immortal except Zhao Xiyi and Zhao Danxia lost their heads to the same stroke.

Xu Fengnian had slain immortals swiftly and ruthlessly.

But this one—seemed even faster, even fiercer.

The young man in ordinary Wudang robes arrived late, following his flying sword. Before the father and son could react, he grabbed them like chickens and hurled them into the sky, leaving them with parting words: “Be good immortals. Mortal affairs belong to mortals. The bond between Qi Xuanzhen and Longhu Mountain ends here.”

Then the elusive young Daoist grinned and stood before Xu Fengnian, blocking his blade’s path.

Xu Fengnian roared in fury, “Hong!”

The young Daoist ducked his head and forced a smile. “Your Highness, you’ve enough burdens on your shoulders. Leave this one to me—to Wudang, to Sect Leader Li Yufu. It’s enough.”

Xu Fengnian glared.

The young Daoist swallowed hard and whispered, “You wouldn’t want your sister to worry, would you?”

Xu Fengnian muttered, “Looking for another beating, aren’t you?” Instinctively, he kicked out—a habit from years past. The young Daoist dodged with practiced ease.

Years ago, the young heir would have thought that kick the epitome of martial prowess, while the junior disciples watching their young grandmaster spar with the spoiled heir would marvel at his grace in evading every strike.

Now, the young heir had become the King of Northern Liang, one of the four great masters on the martial rankings.

That timid yet kind young grandmaster had become the immortal who rode a crane south, had become Qi Xuanzhen, had become Lü Zu.

Yet when they reunited, he was still himself, and they were still themselves.

Xu Fengnian’s eyes reddened slightly as he rasped, “You should’ve come down the mountain sooner. Even one day earlier—my sister would’ve had one more day of happiness.”

The young Daoist pressed his lips together, his face crumpling as tears fell. He couldn’t speak.

Xu Fengnian suddenly pulled him into a rough embrace and asked quietly, “With Li Yufu’s help… you can still see my sister, right?”

The young Daoist nodded vigorously.

Xu Fengnian snorted. “In every life, in every incarnation—if you meet her again, treat her well! Or I’ll still beat you senseless. So what if you’re Lü Zu? I’m still that guy and that other guy—I’ve got more backing than you.”

A brother, no matter how accomplished, always fears his sister might suffer after marriage.

Isn’t this how they all act—playing the villain to warn their brother-in-law?

The young Daoist, ever tactless, asked, “Didn’t you sever your ties with them?”

Xu Fengnian, now wearing his Liang blade at his waist, punched him in the ribs.

The young Daoist gasped—whether in genuine pain or feigned submission, as in the old days—and grinned foolishly, tears still streaking his face.

Xu Fengnian hesitated. “Leaving? Really won’t stay as the one who keeps things in check?”

The young Daoist shook his head, smiling. “I’ve always hated responsibility. Besides, I could never beat you back then—and even if I could, I’m still scared of you deep down.”

Side by side, they gazed down at the bustling, vibrant Tai’an City.

In a voice perhaps only he could hear, Xu Fengnian murmured, “Whenever I miss my sister, I imagine her sitting on a crane with you. She must’ve been so happy then, laughing. Thinking of that… eases the pain.”

The young Daoist said nothing, his form growing faint, as if he might vanish with the next breeze.

Xu Fengnian’s voice dropped even lower. “Having someone like you… I’m actually proud… brother-in-law.”

A stifled chuckle came from beside him. “Aye! Little brother-in-law!”

Flushing with embarrassment, Xu Fengnian kicked out again.

But the young Daoist, Hong Xixiang, was already gone.

Xu Fengnian stood frozen for a long moment before finally descending lightly onto the Imperial Observatory square and walking toward the Altar of Land and Grain.

As he climbed the steps, he bent to scoop up a handful of earth.

At the summit, he crouched, tilted his hand, and let the soil trickle through his fingers.

The young man who had entered in mourning white, now drenched in blood, closed his eyes and whispered to himself, “Father, Mother, Elder Sister… I’m doing well. Don’t worry.”