Mount Wudang was thriving, with countless pilgrims making arduous journeys from afar to burn incense there. Among the out-of-town devotees, those from the capital region and Jing’an Road were the most numerous. Many of Wudang’s peaks and their Taoist temples offered lodging, so even the newly opened Qing Shan Temple on the recently “unsealed” Xiao Zhu Peak was bustling with visitors. The main peak’s Zi Xu Temple and Xi Xiang Pool, the persimmon grove on Xiao Lianhua Peak, the turtle-borne stele, and the grand auspicious murals on Yu Zhu Peak were undoubtedly the most captivating sights. However, the approachable demeanor of Wudang’s Taoist priests made pilgrims feel particularly welcome. Even high-ranking figures like Chen Yao and Yu Xingrui, or esteemed figures like the sect leader Li Yufu, adhered to the rule set by Patriarch Lü: “Our mountain’s priests shall interpret divination slips for pilgrims every ten days.” They provided free interpretations for those who climbed the mountain.
Yet, the flourishing incense at Wudang owed much to one man—Xu Fengnian, the new Liang King, who once practiced asceticism in a thatched hut on the mountain. The Xi Xiang Pool near his former dwelling had now become a pilgrimage site for martial artists, attracting countless female devotees who came to burn incense—some genuinely devout, others secretly yearning for the legendary “Northern Xu.” This young man was a figure of myth: a prince of a different surname, a supreme military commander with 300,000 elite cavalry under his command, and one of the four great grandmasters in the martial world. Rumored to be as dashing as the legendary Cao Changqing of Western Chu, he was hailed as an immortal banished to the mortal realm. As a result, Wudang saw an unusual phenomenon—unlike other temples and monasteries, it drew an increasing number of young female pilgrims, often arriving in groups.
When Xu Fengnian parted ways with Li Yufu and Yu Fu at dusk, the master and disciple continued their ascent to Wudang’s main temple, while Xu Fengnian headed for his old thatched hut. To his surprise, he was met with a closed door. From afar, he could see faint lamplight inside, but as he approached, the light abruptly went out, and no one answered his knock. Puzzled, Xu Fengnian chuckled to himself, assuming Jiang Ni was too embarrassed to share the hut with him. In truth, back when she had carried books up the mountain, they had lived together—though not in the same bed. He had taken the small cot while she slept pitifully on the floor in a corner. Back then, the young master of Liang had no inclination to be chivalrous, and the stubborn Jiang Ni would never have accepted his kindness anyway. Had he offered to sleep on the floor, she would have only suspected him of ulterior motives. Clearly, the poor maid of Qingliang Mountain had suffered greatly under the unscrupulous young master.
Now, two thin wooden doors barred the young prince who had even stormed the Imperial Observatory. Xu Fengnian turned and spotted a small bamboo chair she must have forgotten to bring inside. He sat on it—the very one crafted by the “Ox-Riding” Taoist back in the day—tucking his hands into his sleeves as he gazed at the dazzling Milky Way above. The night was cool, but there were no fireflies to chase with a silk fan.
After sitting alone for a while, Xu Fengnian grew bored and wandered by starlight to the vegetable garden beside the hut. Lush and well-tended by Jiang Ni, it was filled with wooden trellises crawling with cucumber and loofah vines, dotted with yellow flowers. Lower down were green peppers, and even a few round watermelons hidden among the greenery. Xu Fengnian counted five or six of varying sizes. Perhaps out of affection for their caretaker, he found them endearingly plump. He imagined picking them later, chilling them in Xi Xiang Pool, and savoring their sweetness—though he might not have the heart to eat them.
Returning to the bamboo chair, Xu Fengnian closed his eyes, emptying his mind.
Then, with a creak, the door cracked open slightly. Jiang Ni peeked out at his back, uneasy. Since arriving alone, she had initially slept on the floor out of habit before mustering the courage to move her bamboo mat onto the small cot. Tonight, hearing Xu Fengnian’s familiar footsteps, her first instinct had been to leap barefoot from the bed, shut the door, toss the mat back onto the floor, and feign sleep—covering her ears as if playing dead. The whole sequence had been executed with the finesse of a grandmaster.
After a long wait, seeing him rise, leave, return, and sit again without further action, Jiang Ni grew nervous—not out of guilt, but fear that the grudge-holding man would settle scores later. After an internal struggle, she finally dared to crack the door open, only to find him sitting quietly outside, seemingly indifferent to her antics.
Then a crisp sound broke the silence. Jiang Ni, like a cat with its tail stepped on, flew into a rage. “Xu Fengnian! You’re stealing from me!”
Xu Fengnian, munching on a cucumber, turned with an infuriatingly smug expression. “What’s yours is mine. How is this stealing?”
Jiang Ni thrust out her hand sternly. “Pay up!”
Xu Fengnian, as if expecting this, shrugged. “I’m broke. I’ll owe you. Tomorrow, I’ll borrow some coins from Sect Leader Li. How much for a cucumber? One or two coppers?”
After a pause, Jiang Ni declared confidently, “Two!”
Xu Fengnian grinned, chewing lazily. “Why not ask for three?”
Jiang Ni flushed, then snapped, “Two means two!” She quickly added, “But not Yonghui-era coins—they must be Xiangfu-era!”
Xu Fengnian teased, “Oh? Collected all sixteen Hongjia and Yonghui coins, now starting on Xiangfu? Ambitious, aren’t we?”
Jiang Ni huffed, “None of your business!”
Xu Fengnian turned away, silent.
Jiang Ni stepped closer, eyeing him warily. “Don’t you dare steal the watermelons—they’re still small!”
Xu Fengnian grunted in acknowledgment.
His thoughts drifted to Qingliang Mountain’s Wutong Courtyard, where second-tier maids like Huang Gua, Lü Yi, and Bai Jiu, and first-tier maids like Sweet Potato and Qing Niao had once served. Some were still around; others were gone.
Jiang Ni fetched a small stool and sat a distance away, watching him eat the cucumber as if each bite cost her two coppers.
Xu Fengnian paused, holding the half-eaten cucumber. “Xie Xi’sui and the others are doing fine—no need to worry. As I said before, apart from the bloody skirmishes after the Xilei Battle, the court’s handling of Guangling Road has been relatively gentle. Civil officials were treated well, and the Song family became the new local leaders. Emperor Zhao even summoned Song Maolin to the capital as a Hanlin academic. The former Guangling governor Wang Xionggui returned to the capital, and the new governor is a protégé of the Jiangnan elder Yu Jiankang, who naturally favors Guangling scholars. Instead of heading straight to his office, he hosted a grand banquet, inviting hundreds of Jiangnan literati and over twenty scholars from Shangyin Academy—a rare literary event. Song Li, one of Guangling’s key military commanders, is also marrying a noblewoman from the region. All signs point to the court’s desire for stability in Guangling.”
Jiang Ni remained silent.
Xu Fengnian turned to her stunning face and said softly, “In this world, few things are truly indispensable. You’ve always been lucky—you fall into that category.”
Jiang Ni replied calmly, “No need to console me. I never thought the revival of Western Chu hinged on me.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “I’m relieved you think that way.”
Jiang Ni suddenly asked, “What about Northern Liang? Could it survive without you?”
Xu Fengnian met her gaze solemnly. “Of course not!”
Jiang Ni rolled her eyes.
Xu Fengnian chuckled and resumed eating. “If Xu Xiao were alive, if my mentor Li Yishan were still here, if Chen Zhibao had agreed to support me as Northern Liang’s king, if the court hadn’t interfered in the northwest, if the Northern Mang’s Murong and Yelü clans had infighted, if Northern Liang had 500,000 troops instead of 300,000… But there are no ‘ifs’ in this world, so I’m indispensable.”
Jiang Ni tilted her head. “Are you complaining to me?”
Xu Fengnian shot her a look. “I’m not complaining—I’m bragging. Remember when I told you I was a martial genius who’d be invincible in a few years? You looked at me like I was an idiot. How do you feel now?”
Jiang Ni didn’t argue but gave him a look that said, *You just stepped in a giant pile of dog dung.*
Xu Fengnian tossed away the cucumber stub, grinning smugly. “I’ve taken three disciples. If there’s ever another martial ranking, Wang Sheng, Yu Dilong, and Lü Yunzhang will all make the top twenty. Yu Dilong might even take the top spot.”
Jiang Ni said flatly, “Yu Dilong? The scout kid from Youzhou’s cavalry?”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
Jiang Ni’s next words hit like a flying sword aimed at his neck. “Even up here on Wudang, I’ve heard the famous tale of ‘leaning on the wall.’ What an impressive ‘world’s greatest.’”
Xu Fengnian froze.
Then Jiang Ni heard the “Wall-Leaning Grandmaster” muttering about “cleansing the sect.”
She gazed dreamily at the Milky Way, which the people of Guangling called the “Heavenly Guang River.”
Xu Fengnian looked up too, murmuring, “They say the southern border has a hundred thousand mountains, that Liaodong’s snows surpass the northwest’s, that Nanzhao has a Butterfly Spring where countless colorful butterflies link tails, hanging from trees to the water’s surface…”
Jiang Ni listened quietly before asking softly, “Will you visit all those places you long for?”
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly. “Of course.”
Jiang Ni looked away. “Tomorrow, I want to burn incense at Zi Xu Temple on the peak.”
Xu Fengnian raised an eyebrow. “Praying for blessings? Or divination?”
Jiang Ni snapped, “None of your business!”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “If I recall, tomorrow is when Elder Chen Yao interprets slips. No matter how late you sleep, I’ll make sure he sees you first. As Wudang’s top patron, they wouldn’t dare slight me.”
Before Jiang Ni could retort, Xu Fengnian added, “Remember the twelve miniature flying swords Deng Tai’a gave me? Many were destroyed in battles with Han Shengxuan, Wang Xianzhi, and Tuoba Pusa. I had the Mohist craftsmen at Qingliang forge a new set of nine, each matching one of my sword intents. Their names are Fengdu, Yi Chen, Du Yu, Shui Jing, Lao Jiao, Mei Ran, Zhi Qu, Ye Hu, and Yang Zhi. Interesting, no?”
Jiang Ni scoffed, “Pretentious!”
Xu Fengnian laughed before lowering his voice. “About tomorrow—some tips. Three incense sticks are enough; more doesn’t mean more sincerity. The coins must be your own. Temple and altar incense differ—the former shouldn’t exceed an inch, the latter is best with sandalwood. True devotees bring their own, not like you, last-minute. Oh, and in the temple, men take the left, women the right. Don’t walk the center of steps or thresholds. When praying, don’t make grand promises of future offerings—gods don’t need your incense. At Wudang, prayers for peace are most likely answered. And if they are, don’t forget to return and give thanks…”
As Xu Fengnian rambled on, Jiang Ni felt an unexpected warmth in her heart.
Then, true to form, he ruined it: “Most importantly—you can pray for a child too!”
Jiang Ni took a deep breath, recalling the *Moonlit Oath of the Great Geng Angle*—where Jiang Xi had sworn to kill Xu Fengnian.
Xu Fengnian, eyeing her chest as she breathed, smirked. “Little Mud, you’ve grown up nicely.”
Jiang Ni glared.
No longer the hapless girl who always lost their quarrels, she now carried the dignity of the Western Chu emperor.
At dawn the next day, as Wudang’s morning bells chimed across the peaks, hundreds of Taoist priests and pilgrims gathered in the square before Zi Xu Temple on the main peak. Together, they practiced the slow, harmonious fist forms said to have been rediscovered by the late sect leader Hong Xixiang.
Leading them were three: Sect Leader Li Yufu, his young disciple Yu Fu, and Xu Fengnian, the Prince of Northern Liang, in green robes with a jade pendant.
A gentle breeze swept through the mountain, carrying with it the mists, the aura of immortals, the spirit of chivalry, and the vigor of youth.
Jiang Ni, who had vowed to go alone, stood at the back of the square, rising on tiptoe to watch the tall figure. Hearing the shameless whispers of female pilgrims, she smiled, dimples appearing on her cheeks.
When the forms ended, she walked boldly through the crowd, blushing slightly as she took Xu Fengnian’s hand under the envious gazes of the women.
He had said his martial journey began on Wudang—so his Jianghu should end here too.
Between the beginning and the end, and even beyond, she would be there.
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