Fan Xiaochai’s hand holding the knife trembled slightly.
Even when facing Mi Fengjie, who surpassed her in both martial arts realm and combat experience, Fan Xiaochai had never felt such dread. The key was that she prided herself on never fearing death.
The young swordsman, who had been concealing his true strength, did not press his advantage. Instead, he turned to the tea stall owner and called out, “Three bowls of calming tea, please.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Impressive.”
Xu Fengnian said to Fan Xiaochai, “Don’t be nervous. This gentleman means no harm.”
Fan Xiaochai’s face was pale, her eyes growing increasingly dark.
When the tea stall owner brought the three bowls of calming tea to the table, the young man nodded. “Of course, I mean no harm. Since entering the martial world, I always thought I’d form a divine couple with that Xuanyi in purple from Huishan Daxueping. But after seeing this young lady here, I feel that woman is bound to miss out on a match like me.”
Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but repeat, “Impressive.”
The young man then turned to Fan Xiaochai with understanding. “If you wish to kill me, that’s fine. But it’d be best to drink the tea first and find a quiet, spacious place. I promise I won’t fight back, letting you strike as you please.”
Fan Xiaochai took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her knife. Gnashing her teeth, she spat out, “Are you seeking death?!”
To everyone’s surprise, the young man gave an utterly shameless answer, his expression deadly serious. “I’m seeking you.”
Fan Xiaochai’s eyes burned with a resolve to fight to the death. She drew her knife without hesitation, her aura peaking as the blade nearly cleared its sheath.
At that moment, the stern-faced young swordsman broke into a rare smile. Leaning slightly toward Fan Xiaochai, he swiftly extended two fingers of his left hand, stopping just an inch from her forehead.
The motion carried profound meaning.
Fan Xiaochai jerked her head back, trying to evade, but the young man released his fingers and gently pressed his palm against her shoulder.
A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of Fan Xiaochai’s lips.
Xu Fengnian narrowed his eyes.
That move was indeed remarkable—not for its technique or grandeur, but for the depth of its intent.
Fan Xiaochai wiped away the blood with her sleeve.
The young swordsman still held her shoulder, his smile fading as he spoke earnestly. “Young lady, when it comes to aura, both righteous and malevolent energies can be formidable. The difference is that the former is like this post road—wide enough for several riders side by side—while the latter is a narrow log bridge with barely room to stand. Turning back is hard. The grievances and ailments of the heart, once accumulated, are difficult to dispel. Why do people say ‘it must be spoken to be relieved’? That’s the truth. In martial arts, whether with blades, swords, or fists, progress is a long journey. No one reaches the peak in one breath. Even a terrestrial immortal must pause to gather new energy in a life-or-death battle.”
Fan Xiaochai’s lips remained tightly sealed.
In truth, her mouth was already filled with blood. She couldn’t even utter a single word, let alone tell him to get lost.
But she refused to spit it out.
If Xu Fengnian, the King of Northern Liang, was the person she most wanted to kill in this life, then this fool, whose brain had been kicked by a donkey more than once, now ranked second—surpassing even Chu Lushan, who had turned her into a death warrior of the Fushui Division years ago.
Xu Fengnian sighed. Picking up the newly delivered bowl of calming tea, he poured most of it into an empty bowl before handing it to Fan Xiaochai.
After a moment’s hesitation, she took the white bowl, shaking off the young man’s hand from her shoulder. Turning away, she lowered her head and spat the blood into the tea, then drank it all in one gulp.
Perhaps apart from Xu Fengnian, the only one among the nearby martial artists who grasped a hint of the underlying mystery was Li Houzhong, the Sage of the Snow Hut Spear.
Even to Lu Jiejun of the Misty Peak and the fist master Feng Zongxi, the young swordsman’s move seemed nothing more than sheer speed—fast, but otherwise unremarkable.
As for the others, they were utterly baffled.
The young swordsman gazed at Fan Xiaochai’s back, hesitating as if to speak, but in the end, he said nothing.
He turned to Xu Fengnian. “You’re either an ordinary man who’s never practiced martial arts, or a top-tier expert skilled in qi cultivation. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have failed to detect the uniqueness of your energy flow. But since you dare to flaunt a Liang blade in public and travel with… this young lady, I assume your identity isn’t simple. So…”
Xu Fengnian waited quietly for him to continue.
True to form, the young swordsman did not disappoint. “So, may I ask for this young lady’s name?”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “She used to be called Fan Xiaochai, with ‘chai’ as in hairpin. Now, it’s Fan Xiaochai, with ‘chai’ as in firewood.”
The young man nodded. “As I thought—both are excellent names!”
Xu Fengnian was at a loss for words.
After all these years wandering the martial world, he had finally met someone whose shamelessness rivaled his own.
Back in his most destitute days, he had at least relied on his looks as much as his thick skin, charming village women for water without fail. But this guy? Pure audacity.
The young man pondered briefly. “Never mind. I was going to ask you something, but it’s no longer necessary. Whether I go to Wudang Mountain or not doesn’t matter anymore.”
Xu Fengnian, now aware of the young man’s identity, asked with a smile, “Why doesn’t it matter? Aren’t you going to challenge the King of Northern Liang?”
The young man looked stunned. “You know who I am?”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
Rubbing his chin, the young man suddenly understood. “It’s rare for someone to guess my identity just by my appearance, but then again, it makes sense.”
Xu Fengnian was beginning to understand Fan Xiaochai’s frustration.
Fan Xiaochai had turned back, placing the white bowl on the table. She glared at the young man. “I will kill you!”
The young man neither mocked nor grew angry. Instead, he grinned brightly. “As you wish.”
Xu Fengnian asked curiously, “You’re not joking?”
The young man straightened, his expression solemn. “I never joke with anyone! Shouldn’t true love be love at first sight? I don’t think people grow to love each other through shared hardship—rather, they endure hardship because they love each other. Don’t you believe that?”
Xu Fengnian stared at the young face, momentarily lost in thought.
He remembered the old man in sheepskin and the woman in green from Fengdu.
So even in today’s martial world, there were still such fools.
Unreasonable. Unfathomable.
Xu Fengnian smiled softly. “I believe you.”
Fan Xiaochai asked coldly, “Who are you?!”
Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but rub his temples. As expected, the guy was at it again, wounding without lifting a finger. “Young Miss Chai, whether you like me or not has nothing to do with my feelings for you.”
Then he blinked at Fan Xiaochai. “If one day I no longer like you, don’t be surprised.”
Fan Xiaochai was on the verge of losing it. “Who the hell are you?!” she roared.
Only then did the young swordsman rest his hand on the hilt of his sword. His gaze clear, he smiled at her. “Chen Tianyuan, of the Taibai Sword Sect!”
He paused before declaring loudly, “So! The day I stop loving you will be the day Chen Tianyuan’s sword breaks!”
At nearby tables, any young man or woman who happened to be drinking tea or chewing on a pancake spat it out in unison.
Chen Tianyuan, the Banished Immortal of the Taibai Sword Sect!
In a century of martial arts history, where countless talents had risen, Chen Tianyuan remained the undisputed prodigy of the sword since Li Chungang, the Sword God of the Spring and Autumn Era—the fastest to break through realms!
Lu Jiejun and Feng Zongxi exchanged glances before looking at Li Houzhong, the Sage of the Snow Hut Spear. The latter gave a slight nod.
It had to be him—the one from the Taibai Sword Sect.
The toad-faced man and the thin-lipped beauty sitting at the same table with the three elders looked at each other in confusion.
Wasn’t it said that the Banished Immortal of the Taibai Sword Sect, upon first entering the martial world, had stunned the land with his white robes, white horse, and white-sheathed sword?
Wasn’t it said that the Banished Immortal possessed the grace of a celestial being?
Xu Fengnian leisurely raised his tea bowl, not drinking yet, his gaze distant and lost in thought.
This person, this moment, this scene.
The scenes of others’ farewells.
Once, a disheveled old man who liked picking at his feet had grumbled, “What ‘Old Sword God’? Just ‘Sword God’!”
Once, a penniless wanderer with a wooden sword had declared grandly, “If one day a peerless swordsman surnamed Wen appears in the martial world, don’t doubt it—that’ll be me!”
Some were no longer in this world.
Some had left the martial world.
And some were still right before his eyes.
Snapping out of his reverie, Xu Fengnian set down the tea bowl and called to the trembling tea stall owner, “Got any Green Ant Wine? Bring two jugs!”
Now that the Northern Liang region had banned brewing, taverns and inns could no longer serve freshly made Green Ant Wine, relying instead on aged stock. This tea stall, catering to traveling martial artists, had bought some coarse, older Green Ant Wine from a tavern—since a bowl of calming tea cost mere pennies, selling liquor was far more profitable. They still had four or five jars left and brought two to the table. Nowadays, one jar cost about four times what it had a few years back, but Northern Liang never watered down its wine. Green Ant came in varying qualities, but it was always authentic. With the influx of martial artists from the Central Plains heading to Wudang Mountain, someone had started the saying: “If you don’t drink Green Ant Wine, your trip to Northern Liang is wasted.”
Chen Tianyuan asked, “Your treat?”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “You bought the calming tea; I’ll return the favor with Green Ant Wine. What’s wrong with that?”
Chen Tianyuan said seriously, “Nothing’s wrong. Except I don’t drink.”
Xu Fengnian was taken aback. “There’s a swordsman in this world who doesn’t drink?”
Chen Tianyuan pointed at himself, as if stating the obvious. “Me.”
Xu Fengnian looked at the two jugs of Green Ant Wine on the table, feeling somewhat awkward.
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