Dust rose in swirling clouds.
The head of the True Martial Avatar exploded, yet its headless body remained leaning forward.
The sage’s clay statue, however, stood unharmed, bearing only faint cracks.
The Zhang Family Sage deliberately adjusted the Confucian cap on his head, sneering at the young prince who had likely exhausted even his most desperate trump cards. “Doesn’t hurt. Is this all you’ve got?”
His words were always grandiose, yet undeniably true—when mere mortals opposed him, even someone like Xu Fengnian could only be like an ant trying to shake a mighty tree!
The old Confucian narrowed his eyes, clicking his tongue. “I told you earlier, with your meager personal fortune, you’re no match for me tonight. Even if you stubbornly refuse to harness the entire Northern Liang’s destiny, why won’t you draw upon the Xu Family’s fate? Whether it’s Xu Weixiong or Xu Longxiang, neither is ordinary—both bear fragments of destiny. Borrowing some of their fortune wouldn’t hurt. Yet you insist on standing alone—why? When death looms, why cling to trivialities? Didn’t you always joke, Xu Fengnian, that you never make losing deals?”
Xu Fengnian remained silent, ignoring him.
Since childhood, as the eldest son of the Xu Family, he had only ever given treasures and curiosities to his elder sisters and Huang Man’er—never once had he taken anything from them, nor even considered it. Like when he obtained the pair of young tiger-kuis, he had immediately gifted them to his second sister and Huang Man’er without hesitation.
When he acquired the new sword *Spring and Autumn* from the Qi Family swordsmith in the Northern Desert, his first thought was of his brother—finally, he could replace that wooden sword. Even when he seized *Crossing the River* from Jiang Fuding, he thought of repaying White Fox for lending him *Embroidered Winter* and *Spring Thunder*.
Xu Fengnian had always believed that since he had received so much, he had no right to complain—he should be generous.
The old Confucian stared coldly into Xu Fengnian’s eyes. “A single falling leaf heralds autumn. The mighty First Prince of Liyang, commanding three hundred thousand elite cavalry, is nothing but a hesitant fool—utterly laughable!”
Xu Fengnian replied slowly, “Save your gloating for when you win. It’s still too early.”
The Zhang Family Sage laughed heartily. “When I win, you’ll be dead. Who will I share my triumph with then? Should I monologue to a corpse?”
Xu Fengnian’s gaze was steely, his expression icy. “My master, Li Yishan; the Grand Academician of Shangyin Academy; Zhang Julu of Liyang; Wei Jingtang of Jizhou, who asked me to bring him a handful of earth—and so many others. In my eyes, *they* are true scholars. You, the so-called Confucian Sage of the Zhang Family, are fortunate to have hidden for centuries. Otherwise, you’d be a laughingstock.”
The Zhang Family Sage remained unperturbed, smiling faintly. “That’s still premature.”
Xu Fengnian steadied his breath. Since the True Martial Avatar had dissipated, it had become increasingly difficult to grasp the old Confucian’s aura.
The elder raised his arm, casually sweeping it through the air—and a three-foot blade of azure energy materialized.
As if lost in reminiscence, the old man sighed. “Perhaps posterity only remembers my scholarship, but forgets that it was I who pioneered the tradition of scholars traveling with books on their backs and swords at their waists.”
The moment the Zhang Family Sage condensed his energy into a sword, Xu Fengnian struck—silent, swift.
The old man stood unmoved, twisting his sword-wielding arm behind his back in a simple defensive stance, effortlessly blocking the talisman blade that sought to sever his head.
No matter from which angle the elusive talisman blade appeared, the Zhang Family Sage countered with nothing more than basic sword stances—yet his defense was flawless.
Their exchange lasted as long as it took an incense stick to burn.
Finally, Xu Fengnian halted twenty paces away.
The old man remained composed, his three-foot energy blade as formidable as ever. Behind him, the sage’s clay statue, summoned into the mortal realm, still gazed serenely toward the distant foothills.
The elder glanced around, chuckling dryly. “Scribbled talismans! Using the remnant soul of the Northern Desert’s true dragon as the talisman’s core is passable, but invoking Longhu Mountain’s Divine Thunder Technique? That’s a stretch. What kind of thunder pool is this? How can it summon gods, subdue demons, or suppress fiends?”
Around him, twenty-one miniature flying swords hovered at varying heights.
Twelve were gifts from Deng Tai’a: *Black Armor, Green Plum, Childhood Sweethearts, Morning Dew, Spring Water, Peach Blossom, Moth Eyebrows, Vermilion Bird, Yellow Tung, Tiny Ant, Golden Thread,* and *Tai’a*.
The other nine were forged later by the Mo Family’s master craftsman of Qingliang Mountain, each embodying Xu Fengnian’s life’s passions: *Netherworld, Old Flood Dragon, Bookworm, Water Spirit, Beautiful Beard, Childish Whims, Wild Fox, Mutton Fat,* and *Ant Sink*.
Upon each motionless sword gleamed a golden yellow talisman.
The Zhang Family Sage raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why are the talisman’s core characters missing? Though Daoist sects have diverged, the essence of talismanic magic lies in its core characters—usually no more than a dozen. Without them, where does the spiritual energy come from?”
Xu Fengnian tightened his grip on the hilt and sighed softly.
This was supposed to be the thunder pool he had prepared to suppress the Heavenly Being, Tantai Pingjing.
As for what this talisman represented—it was obvious.
Xu Fengnian stood in Northern Liang.
This talisman was none other than the *Liang* character!
The twenty-one swords were linked by shared intent.
The twenty-one talismans were bound by crackling lightning.
The old man shook his head. “When one reads with fervor, even the rise and fall of dynasties turn with a single page. What is a mere thunder pool?”
The Zhang Family Sage stood firm, one hand holding his sword, the other moistening a finger as if flipping through a book.
Page after page turned.
With each turn, a flying sword clattered to the ground.
As the last sword teetered, Xu Fengnian gripped his blade with both hands and charged forward.
The Zhang Family Sage dismissed his three-foot energy blade with a flick of his sleeve and stepped forward, sneering. “Do you truly think I fear your mountain-sealing curse?!”
In that instant, the elder’s left hand seized the blade’s tip. Just as the Confucian patriarch was about to deliver a crushing slap with his right, he paused, brow furrowing.
A streak of rainbow light tore across the sky from the direction of Washing Elephant Pond, then descended even faster—landing behind the old man, or rather, before the sage’s clay statue.
The sword’s name: *Full Armor Snow*.
As it landed, no snow fell.
Instead, two radiant pillars of light descended from the heavens.
Like the opening of Heaven’s Gate!
The Zhang Family Sage sighed in exasperation. “You’re truly insufferable, boy.”
Likely conserving his strength to face the resplendent gate, the old man merely released the blade’s tip and shoved the young prince aside before turning away.
The sage’s clay statue was slowly dragged toward the heavenly gate, its towering form gradually vanishing within.
The elder planted one foot firmly, then the other.
Rooted to the earth!
A mighty gale howled at his back, billowing his sleeves as he resisted the pull of the gate.
Xu Fengnian turned east and commanded, “Sword, come!”
From thousands of miles away, the Peach Blossom Sword God, riding his blade, laughed in reply.
“The entire Wu Family Sword Vault—two hundred thousand swords. Will that suffice?!”
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