The man who warmly welcomed his guest on Laoshan Mountain was a former soldier of Beiliang Army. Though his battlefield achievements were modest, after leaving the army he prospered so greatly in business that he surpassed the wealthiest families of the region, eclipsing even ancient noble houses. He was infamous for his extravagant lifestyle, once competing fiercely in wealth with an imperial merchant, provoking so much public outrage that the resulting flood of criticism nearly filled half of the nearby Lake Chenshen. This old veteran, who once led Prince Xu’s horse, at first appeared unremarkable, dressed like an ordinary townsman, showing no arrogance. Yet upon seeing the young prince, tears gushed from his eyes. He knelt at the dock and, regardless of Prince Xu’s attempts to raise him, refused to stand, sobbing on the ground. His wife, children, and the rest of the family watched, stunned.
But Prince Xu knew better. This aged man, Old Wang, held enormous respect for the Beiliang Prince and even deeper admiration for the late Princess. He was also one of the rare veteran soldiers who had witnessed the young prince’s sword skill in his early years. Though officially just a stable boy, the Xu family never treated him like a mere servant.
Beiliang veterans often ended up at opposite extremes. Some lived in poverty, struggling with daily necessities like firewood and rice. Others soared to unimaginable riches and prestige. This was due to the dynasty’s complex attitude toward the soldiers of Beiliang—mingled with fear and jealousy, which led to widespread discrimination. Once deprived of the protection of the iron cavalry, these veterans suppressed their resentment and fought fiercely for success. When they finally earned fame and fortune, they wielded their power with ruthless severity, whether in managing their households, conducting business, or serving in government.
Old Wang Linquan kneeling before Prince Xu was a clear example. Within the Wang household, family law superseded national law, and household governance resembled military command. Once, a daughter-in-law had carelessly spoken out of turn, and disregarding the noble clan behind her, Wang expelled her from the family, and his own son was dragged to the ancestral hall and whipped. So when the Wang family members saw their capricious and inscrutable patriarch tearfully kneeling before this young gentleman, they were utterly shocked, speculating wildly about the identity of the white-robed noble with a jade belt.
The Beiliang Prince’s son was traveling and resting at Laoshan, information known only to Wang Linquan, the local overlord. This arrangement was secretly handled by Lu Qiu’er, down to the smallest detail. As Xu Fengnian raised his head to gaze at the massive white jade statue of the Bodhisattva Guanyin holding a vase at the mountain peak, he recalled that it had taken Wang ten years and over a million taels of silver to build. This Guanyin, her foot resting on a yellow dragon, possessed both wrathful Vajraeyes and compassionate Bodhisattvagaze, her right hand holding a sacred mudra pointing directly at Lake Chenshen.
Wang Linquan finally stood up, wiping away his tears, bowed respectfully, and led the young Prince toward the estate, his posture exactly as he had once guided Prince Xu’s horse. No matter how great his wealth and status now, he had never forgotten where he came from.
As Xu Fengnian kept glancing toward the statue atop the peak, Wang spoke softly: “Your Highness, Lake Chenshen holds a strange phenomenon. For the past thousand years, every lunar second month on the second day, thick jets of water erupt into the sky. No one dares sail the lake that day, calling it the Dragon’s Awakening. It is said a rebellious candle dragon lies bound beneath the lake, punished by Heaven for once blessing the southern lands with unapproved rain. The dragon, resenting heavenly chains, stirs the lake in rebellion on that day alone. But Your Servant, in his arrogance, invited Lady Guanyin to take residence here, and since then, the lake has been calm.”
Whether or not he truly understood, Xu Fengnian, ever the well-read, chuckled gently: “On the second day of the second month, the constellation Jiao rises. The Azure Dragon of the East awakens, thus the Dragon Raises Its Head. Hence ancient texts say dragons rise to heaven during spring.”
“Your Highness is truly learned,” Wang Linquan said sincerely, his tone heartfelt, not mere flattery. Though merchants held little prestige in the empire, at Wang’s level, even dining with the governor required no bowing. Known for his cold demeanor and extreme vendettas, Wang rarely praised anyone. For him to commend someone—be it a scholar with a brilliant essay or an official who cared for the people—was a rare honor indeed.
“It really does resemble a dragon,” Xu murmured, “But won’t rumors come from the capital? Might it affect your business?”
“To me, earning a million or ten million is the same. My descendants have their own fate. Since I’ve already ensured their prosperity, I have nothing to regret before my ancestors.”
“You’re quite carefree,” Xu teased, shifting his gaze.
“All I possess is but the shallowest imitation of what the great General and the Princess taught me. I am unfit for the word ‘carefree,’ let alone compared to Your Highness,” Wang replied, bowing with humility.
The Wang residence displayed deep courtyards, pavilions, bridges, flowing streams—a true Jiangnan paradise. Though a distance from the mountaintop, it still took a full incense stick’s time to walk there. After arranging lodgings for Yu Youwei and others, Xu Fengnian and Qingniao proceeded to the Jade Guanyin statue, accompanied by Wang’s young daughter, Wang Chudong.
Born in Jiangnan, this sixteen-year-old girl wore a revealing Ruqun dress, exposing her chest and back, her outer gauze sheer and translucent, the undergarments faintly visible. The silk and satin of her garments were of the finest quality, resplendent and ornate. This style was once unique to the Dongyue Kingdom, but now accepted by noblewomen and beauties across the empire, further inspired by lyrical lines like “Long white snow lingers on her bosom.” Thus, the style of women’s garments gradually turned bold and free.
Wang Chudong, a well-bred young lady still awaiting marriage, boldly stared at Xu Fengnian at the dock, unashamed, and now chattered endlessly like a cheerful songbird. Since her father had not revealed the visitor’s identity, she only knew this refined young man was surnamed Xu, addressing him as “Master Xu” at first, then later affectionately calling him “Brother Xu.” Xu Fengnian didn’t mind, smiling silently as he listened, his heart at peace.
At last, they reached the plaza where the great Jade Guanyin statue stood. The white jade Bodhisattva’s expression was vividly both wrathful and compassionate. Her right arm bent forward toward Lake Chenshen, fingers gently spread, palm outward, as if bestowing fearlessness upon all beings.
Xu Fengnian sat cross-legged, two young Kui creatures resting on his knees.
The young girl, praised by local poets as “Wang’s blossoming rose,” squatted beside him, saying reverently: “Brother Xu, the Bodhisattva is really powerful. She has pointed at Lake Chenshen since spring, and the water spouts ceased at the Spring Equinox. When I was little, I was really afraid of the second day of the second month, always thundering and raining. But since Lady Guanyin arrived, I can freely go to the lake to fish, make tea, and admire the snow. Brother Xu, let me test you—do you know the meaning behind the Bodhisattva’s hand gesture?”
Xu Fengnian, knowledgeable in Buddhist lore, smiled and answered: “It’s the Abhaya Mudra.”
Wang Chudong giggled: “You got it right!”
Noticing that Master Xu had fallen into a daze after answering, she turned her gaze and accidentally saw Qingniao, the girl in the blue dress beside him, eyes glistening with tears.
“Brother Xu,” she asked in surprise, “why is this lady crying?”
Xu Fengnian returned to his senses gently: “Because this Bodhisattva resembles someone.”
Wang Chudong merely hummed, understandingly ceasing her chatter.
Unsure when, Jiang Ni and the aged sword saint Li Chungan had also arrived at the plaza.
Li, after gazing for a while, muttered: “This Bodhisattva’s Abhaya Mudra can be seen as a sword—the sword intent is mighty beyond words.”
Jiang Ni replied indifferently: “I don’t understand it.”
Li glanced curiously at Xu Fengnian, whose expression was odd: “What’s wrong with that kid?”
Jiang Ni hesitated, then quietly said: “This Bodhisattva looks very much like the late Beiliang Princess.”
The old sword saint fell silent for a while, whispering:
“Walks alone, halts alone, sits alone,
Snake lines on green bamboo, sword flashes with a thousand lights.
Dressed alone, sword alone, stands alone,
Cold laughter hides madness, none sees the immortal.
Only mountain spirits and dragon kings know—
The one who walks among men is truly a celestial.”
Jiang Ni frowned: “Did you write this poem?”
The old man chuckled: “It’s a short excerpt from others praising my *Song of the Azure Dragon Swordmaster*. If you’re interested, let me recall more.”
Jiang Ni replied irritably: “Don’t bother. I don’t want to hear.”
Wang Linquan had prepared a grand banquet with great fanfare, personally inviting the Prince back to his estate. Even the light cavalry from the three ships of Beiliang weren’t neglected; a procession of female servants carried trays in an elegant, continuous flow.
At the banquet, Xu Fengnian especially praised the Lake Chenshen specialty—slow-braised black chicken with turtle. The black-feathered Laoshan chicken, raised freely in the mountains, had a medicinal fragrance due to the herb-rich terrain, and its meat, bones, and beak were all black. The turtle was another delicacy, selected from century-old specimens with a green beard growing on their shells at the lake bottom. Only after slow stewing with the chicken until the shell softened was the dish complete. No wonder literati and scholars would praise it, exclaiming: “We cannot fully leave Lake Chenshen behind; half our hearts remain, entrapped by this broth.”
After wiping his greasy mouth and enjoying the most satisfying meal since leaving Beiliang, Xu Fengnian finally had his fill. Privately, he requested the geographical chronicles of the region from Wang Linquan.
In the twilight courtyard, Jiang Ni read *The Flying Sword of Dunhuang*, a sword manual never before seen. Ironically, a warrior from the Northern Meng Dynasty had achieved sword mastery in the Dunhuang Sword Caverns of the far north. Just as he emerged to travel and test his skills, he encountered Wang Xiu, the spear prodigy training on a northern journey. The battle was swift, and the sword warrior perished—not due to inferior ability, but because his techniques were too theoretical, without real combat experience. Wang Xiu, ever a master of killing, decisively ended his life.
Thankfully, the unknown swordsman had recorded his insights while training, leading to *The Flying Sword of Dunhuang*, which brimmed with celestial energy. Originally, Xu Fengnian had chosen the book simply for its bold title, but when the old sword sage, Li Chungan, sifted through the entire collection, he had picked this one as “adequate.” If Li Chungan said it was passable, Xu dared not treat it lightly.
Jiang Ni read aloud while Xu Fengnian closed his eyes, listening.
Xu recalled Li Chungan urging him to fight against Lü Qiantang. He should try it soon. He had no wish to end like the author of *The Flying Sword of Dunhuang*, dying shortly after entering the martial world.
Why had he insistently trained on Wudang Mountain, even risking injury by challenging the sword hermit Wang Xiaoping in the bamboo grove? Wouldn’t it have been easier to simply train under the waterfall with his saber?
Though martial cultivators are ranked into nine levels, the highest level is nearly unreachable—not to mention the higher realms of Vajra, Zhi Xuan, Celestial Phenomena, and Xianren (Immortal Being). The lower nine levels are actually quite simple to distinguish. Before breaking plate armor, one was merely a lower-tier martial artist; breaking armor marked the first threshold. The armor referred to the official iron plate armor of the empire, double-layered. Middle-tier warriors generally break up to six layers, which was considered the second major threshold. Top-tier fighters could break eight or nine. The highest two levels were harder to define. It was rumored that the Taoist master Zhao from Longhu Mountain could break a hundred layers with a single swipe of his whisk. Such figures were difficult to quantify. In Xu Fengnian’s view, the most ambitious grand master in the Celestial Court should have reached the realm of Zhi Xuan Realm.
Xu Fengnian interrupted Jiang Ni for a moment and retrieved a hidden sword case.
Inside lay the Da Liang Long Que sword.
Its former master once cleaved through 160 layers of armor with a single strike.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage