Beyond the table where Xu Fengnian and Chen Tianyuan sat, the most complex emotions undoubtedly belonged to the proud young faces like the thin-lipped woman with a toad-like visage. In any prefecture of Liyang, these individuals would unquestionably be considered the cream of the crop. But as the saying goes, comparison is the thief of joy. Take the aloof beauty with the pipa strapped to her back—no matter how many admirers and sycophants she commanded in the Jianghu of Huainan, stepping into the broader martial world and glimpsing the celestial heights of the Four Realms of the First Rank would inevitably leave her feeling inadequate.
For the young exiled immortal of the Taibai Sword Sect, while he had once seemed a distant legend, inspiring awe, skepticism, and envy among peers of similar age, now that he stood before them in the flesh, the emotions were overwhelming. He seemed untouchable, casting a shadow of inadequacy over them, yet they still harbored the faint hope of exchanging even a few words with him.
They knew full well that their own prestige in the martial world was largely borrowed—leaning on their sects and masters. But Chen Tianyuan was different.
Rumors claimed that in the Northern Wastelands, there existed those who could embody an entire sect single-handedly. And Chen Tianyuan, who had shattered the barriers of the Second Rank, Diamond, and Finger Mystic realms within a single year, was not far behind.
This young swordsman, who had left his peers in the dust, had earned the right to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their own backers. As for his future? It was immeasurable. Among the Four Young Masters of Liyang’s Jianghu, none doubted that Chen Tianyuan would soar the highest.
How high?
As high as the Sword Saint Li Chungang and the Liang King Xu Fengnian.
The toad-faced man leaned toward his master, the renowned Feng Zongxi, and whispered, “Master, is it true that this young man from the Taibai Sword Sect has truly stepped into the Finger Mystic realm?”
The short yet imposing fist master nodded. “It seems so.”
The thin-lipped woman’s eyes sparkled with newfound admiration.
She could never have imagined that the unremarkable man in green robes—the one she had dismissed with a single glance—was the very figure she envisioned as the future leader of the world’s sword path.
The contrast was staggering, but so was the thrill.
Even if Chen Tianyuan wasn’t the rumored second coming of Li Chungang, and even if he lacked the charm of a dashing hero, as long as his sword talent wasn’t exaggerated, she would willingly attach herself to his rising star.
Feng Zongxi chuckled softly. “Changfeng, let me share a secret with you. Do you know why those who reach the pinnacle of the sword path often become the undisputed champions of their generation?”
Dou Changfeng grinned. “Master, I’m all ears.”
Feng Zongxi spoke slowly. “Among the countless martial artists, sword practitioners are the most attuned to destiny. They vie for supremacy, each seeking to stand alone at the summit. In the end, no one tolerates a rival sleeping beside them.”
Dou Changfeng nodded, though only half-understanding.
The thin-lipped woman beside the ethereal Lu Jiejun of Misty Peak asked softly, “Is it like how the number of terrestrial immortals is fixed?”
Lu Jiejun, a master of Finger Mystic techniques, smiled and nodded.
Dou Changfeng let out an “Ah!” and said, “So it’s like the official court—six ministers, six seats, one spot per person.”
The white-templed Spear Saint of Snow Cottage sipped his tea, his lips curling in disdain.
Dou Changfeng ventured cautiously, “Master, may I go sit at the exiled immortal’s table? Just to bask in his aura.”
Feng Zongxi gave a noncommittal hum.
The toad-faced man scurried over eagerly. “I am Dou Changfeng. Might I—”
Chen Tianyuan didn’t even glance at him, one of Liyang’s newly ranked Ten Young Masters. Instead, he turned his gaze directly to Feng Zongxi.
He had seen the same look in Dou Changfeng’s eyes earlier—the same expression he had directed at Fan Xiaochai. Chen Tianyuan remembered it all too clearly.
Feng Zongxi, a fist master who had earned his place among the elite at Great Snow Plateau alongside Lu Jiejun, felt a flicker of displeasure at the young man’s arrogance. But his face remained impassive. He made no move to call back his disciple, who had just been publicly snubbed.
Dou Changfeng was mediocre in talent and even worse in temperament. But Feng Zongxi, having clawed his way to his current martial standing and navigated the murky waters of the Jianghu for years, had long honed his ability to read people. Dou Changfeng was the scion of a prominent noble family—a favored son, though not the eldest. His family’s patron was a reclusive former master who had once done Feng Zongxi a great favor. That was why this unremarkable youth had become the “Divine Fist of the Central Plains’” prized disciple.
Moreover, Feng Zongxi’s generation prized face above all else. They lived by the creed: “Respect begets respect, but never bow to coercion.” Chen Tianyuan might be famed as one of the Four Young Masters alongside Qi Xianxia of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, the Jiang family’s tide-fighter of Martial Emperor City, and the Golden Saber Manor’s master—but Feng Zongxi wasn’t intimidated by this exiled immortal from a distant sect.
And even if he were, he had allies: Lu Jiejun, with her intricate sect connections, and Li Houzhong, the Spear Saint whose strikes left no survivors. Why should he debase himself before a junior? Reputation was everything in the Jianghu.
Bolstered by his master’s tacit approval, Dou Changfeng’s confidence surged. If he couldn’t win over this prodigy of the Taibai Sword Sect, then trampling him would be the next best thing—destroying a rival whose fame eclipsed his own.
Chen Tianyuan, clad in green robes, rose slowly. His voice was calm. “From today onward, my sword shall be renamed *Firewood*.”
The words were clearly meant for Fan Xiaochai alone.
Xu Fengnian suppressed a smirk and glanced at her.
She remained utterly indifferent.
Feng Zongxi frowned. In the unwritten rules of the Central Plains’ Jianghu, when conflicts arose between parties of comparable strength and mutual understanding, they would first sit and talk. If not, they’d at least exchange words before resorting to blows.
But this rising star seemed utterly ignorant of such “etiquette.”
Dou Changfeng, ever the instigator, fanned the flames. “Young Master Chen, I meant no offense. Why deny me even this small courtesy? Fine, if you refuse to acknowledge me, so be it. But my master, the Spear Saint of Snow Cottage, and the Fairy of Fei Chan are all present. Must you announce your sword’s name so provocatively?”
Chen Tianyuan, his back still to Fan Xiaochai, said gently, “Don’t worry. I won’t lose.”
Xu Fengnian nearly laughed aloud. *Doesn’t he realize Fan Xiaochai would rather see him hacked to pieces?*
The young man who single-handedly upheld his sect’s reputation shifted his stance.
He hadn’t even touched his sword’s hilt.
No sword energy emanated from him.
Yet his sword intent soared to the heavens.
The three-foot blade at his waist might as well have been a suspended river.
Xu Fengnian looked toward Wudang Mountain’s Great Lotus Peak and sighed inwardly.
At this moment, Feng Zongxi’s expression finally changed.
He had thought he’d overestimated this sword prodigy. Now he realized he’d still underestimated him.
Even Lu Jiejun, the fifty-year-old master who looked no older than eighteen, rose to mediate. Her voice was hoarse as she urged, “Young Master Chen, chance encounters are fated. Must blades be drawn?”
Chen Tianyuan replied firmly, “Justice is on my side. The sword is at my waist.”
Lu Jiejun could only smile wryly.
*Youth! So ignorant of the Jianghu’s depths.* Even if Chen Tianyuan defeated the “Divine Fist of the Central Plains,” what then? Feng Zongxi had spent thirty years building his reputation, forging connections across Liyang. He was particularly close to Huang Fangfo, the Great Snow Plateau’s chief steward! The Taibai Sword Sect had only recently entered the ranks of the Ten Great Sects. Without geographical advantages, antagonizing Feng Zongxi risked alienating not just the Central Plains’ sects but local officials—even the Ministry of Justice in the capital. The next Jianghu rankings might well erase them entirely!
But Chen Tianyuan, seemingly oblivious, cut straight to the heart of the matter. “The Taibai Sword Sect is a sword sect. We stand by the sword. We draw our blades to level mountains—we take only what is rightfully ours!”
Xu Fengnian took a swig of wine and laughed. “Well said!”
As Feng Zongxi and Lu Jiejun hesitated, the stern Spear Saint Li Houzhong removed his twin spear cases and said coolly, “My spear is named *Great Snow Cone*.”
Xu Fengnian suddenly turned to Fan Xiaochai in a panic. “I’ve got to go. Keep an eye on this guy. Step in if needed—not to kill him, but to help him! If all else fails, just reveal your identity.”
He had barely risen to make his escape when a clear voice rang out from high above. “Xu!”
Xu Fengnian grimaced. “How? She can see me from this far?”
The “deceased” Princess Sui Zhu, Zhao Fengya, was currently on Wudang Mountain—as was Xiao Niren.
Coincidentally, these two princesses had once clashed fiercely on these very slopes. Xu Fengnian had never imagined Zhao Fengya would choose to seclude herself in Wudang after entering Northern Liang—nor that Xiao Niren would be even more determined to tend her vegetable patch here.
He doubted they’d bond over shared misery. If they didn’t come to blows, it’d be a miracle.
Chen Tianyuan turned his head upward, gripping the sword formerly known as *Great Intent*—now *Firewood*.
He was a once-in-a-century natural sword prodigy.
But she was even rarer.
When the Jianghu entered an era of unprecedented talent, reason went out the window.
Everyone looked skyward in unison.
A woman descended, riding her sword through the clouds like an immortal descending from the heavens.
The elders always said that in the Jianghu, presence mattered.
Hers was beyond compare.
A terrestrial sword immortal, traversing a thousand miles in a day—roaming Kunlun at dawn, reaching the Eastern Sea by dusk!
But what left the crowd utterly dumbfounded was what she did after landing gracefully.
Instead of sheathing her sword with immortal grace, she pointed *Great Cool Dragon Sparrow* directly at a certain man forcing a smile and snapped, “Trying to run?!”
The man sat back down, feigning indignation. “Of course not! I was just about to bring you a jug of Green Ant Wine!”
She glared.
He glared back, pretending not to flinch.
Her face remained flushed with anger.
A standoff.
And a whole crowd of onlookers staring wide-eyed.
Finally, she glanced at the unopened jug of Green Ant Wine on the table and said sternly, “Pay for it yourself!”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “I know you always carry a purse. Lend me some, I’ll pay you back.”
As she raised her sword threateningly, he quickly pulled out a money pouch. “Huh? I could’ve sworn I didn’t bring any silver!”
Chen Tianyuan watched this display and thought, *This man has no shame.*
She snorted and soared back into the sky on her sword.
From heaven she came, to heaven she returned.
He called after her, “Take it slow! The winds are strong up there!”
When she had vanished into the clouds, everyone turned to stare at the spineless man.
He slammed the table, red-faced. “What?! Is it wrong for a man to dote on his wife?”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage