The princely residence had, at some unknown time, become the gathering place for many high-ranking officials and military advisors. Every morning, they would first jog three leisurely laps around the outer walls of the estate before assembling in the open space before the council hall and the six administrative wings to practice a set of martial arts. The style was said to have been created by Hong Xixiang, the former head of Wudang Sect. After being refined and simplified by the young prince, the original 108 grand forms of orthodox Wudang techniques were condensed into 36 concise forms, retaining their essence while eliminating the overly intricate postures that ordinary practitioners found difficult to master. The movements alternated between swift and deliberate, flowing like drifting clouds and running water—perfect for stretching the body and nurturing one’s vital energy.
Over time, figures like Wang Jijiu from the Rites Bureau and Song Changsui from the Works Bureau voluntarily joined the morning routine, jogging and practicing alongside the estate’s officials. Bai Yu from the Revenue Bureau, due to his poor eyesight, would stand under the eaves of the side chambers each day, smiling as he watched with half-closed eyes. The Personnel Bureau, led by the absent Governor Li Gongde, did not participate, as Li himself had developed the habit of walking the city walls before dawn. As a senior statesman of the Northern Liang, Li Gongde was willing to chat with humble craftsmen on sandpiles but avoided mingling with younger officials, so his bureau naturally abstained. The officials from the Military and Justice Bureaus, already physically fit, saw no need to join either. Yet despite these absences, the mornings at the princely estate exuded a vibrant and lively energy.
Today, the young prince stood atop the steps alongside Bai Lian, watching over two hundred people practice the martial forms. Among them were Lu Chengsong and Lu Chengqing from the Lu family. Lu Chengqing had stayed in Jubei City instead of returning to Lingzhou with his family head, Lu Dongjiang, serving as an unranked advisor in plain blue robes. Leading the group was Yu Xingrui, a Wudang master who had just arrived in the city the previous night. Behind him stood Qi Xianxia, the young master of Longhu Mountain, and Chai Qingshan from the Dongyue Sword Pool. The sight of these three grandmasters—representing the two great Daoist traditions of the north and south, and the pinnacle of swordsmanship—practicing together in the estate’s courtyard was nothing short of a grand spectacle.
Standing calmly beside the prince, Bai Yu kept his gaze forward and remarked with a smile, “Your Highness, aside from these three, intelligence from the Justice Bureau reports that three other grandmasters—Mao Shulang, Cheng Baishuang, and Ji Liu’an from the southern frontier—are also on their way to Jubei City. It seems Wei Miao, the foremost martial artist of Nanzhao, did not return home with his wife after descending the mountain and is likely heading here as well. Though the whereabouts of the blind qin master Xue Songguan from Western Shu remain unknown, reports from the border at Lazikou suggest she did not accompany the former Western Shu crown prince, Su Su, southward. And then there are figures like Tong Shanquan of the Golden Saber Manor and Li Houzhong, the ‘Snow Hut Spear Saint,’ among others—no fewer than a dozen—all converging here. Your Highness, are you planning to host a new martial arts conference on behalf of the Huishan Clan of Daxueping?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “Once the excitement is over, everyone will return home. What else can I do? Convince these grandmasters to charge into battle against the barbarians? Your junior brother Qi Xianxia has already declared he’s heading to Difu Mountain. Besides, the battlefield has never been the concern of the martial world.”
Bai Lian shamelessly countered, “If I recall correctly, during the decade-long siege of Xiangfan, countless martial artists helped Wang Mingyang resist your Xu family’s forces.”
Xu Fengnian sighed. “Yes, yes, Bai Lian is always right.”
Bai Yu teased, “Oh, no need to be so cautious. I’m not the kind of official who dares to throw punches at a prince over a disagreement.”
Xu Fengnian smirked, his expression eerily reminiscent of Jia Jiajia’s signature look. “Bai Yu, it’s fortunate you’re not a martial artist. Otherwise, I’d have to challenge you.”
Bai Yu abruptly changed the subject. “May I ask about the whereabouts of Yu Xinyi and Lou Huang, the two disciples of Wang Xianzhi?”
Xu Fengnian answered plainly, “Lou Huang is with Li Hanlin. As for Yu Xinyi… guess.”
Bai Yu understood immediately. “Ah, so he’s with Xu Yanbing, hidden in Huaiyang Pass. I see. Your Highness, may I speak freely?”
Xu Fengnian shot back, “I’d advise against it.”
Bai Yu turned his head, feigning surprise. “What? Is someone bold enough to publicly assault a prefectural governor—especially the governor of Liangzhou, the only one in the entire Liyang dynasty with a second-rank appointment?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled dryly. “Bai Lian, it’s a shame you don’t practice swordsmanship.”
Bai Yu smiled knowingly and dropped the matter.
He had wanted to ask whether Xu Fengnian would hold a grudge against Kou Jianghuai, the general of Liuzhou, if Xie Xizui—even with Yu Xinyi’s protection—were to fall in battle. After all, Bai Yu, Yang Shenxing, and Kou Jianghuai were now allies, much like Deputy Governor Song Dongming and the “Martial God of Wealth” Wang Linquan, or Chen Xiliang’s ties with Yang Guangdou and the Liuzhou military, and Xu Beizhi’s connections with Han Liaoshan and Huangfu Ping in Youzhou.
Different paths, same destination.
The Confucian ideal of “gentlemen forming friendships without factions” was merely an elegant euphemism for scholars banding together. Even Zhang Julu, a near-saintly official, had his allies—like the straightforward Huan Wen and the influential ministers of the Yonghui era: Zhao Youling, Wang Xionggui, Yin Maochun, Yuan Huo, and Han Lin.
After thirty years of secluded cultivation, Bai Yu had come to understand the essence of governance far more clearly than many seasoned officials. It all boiled down to a single word: *heart*.
Even to an outsider’s eye, the Wudang martial forms were a sight to behold. Bai Yu mused, “If combined with Daoist breathing techniques—whether the introductory *Baopu Guizhen Song* from Longhu Mountain or the Jade Pillar method from Wudang—it would harmonize body and spirit, promoting health if not longevity.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “If we get the chance, you, as governor, can promote this in your jurisdiction. I’ll arrange things with Wudang.”
Suddenly, a cool breeze swept in, carrying a voice as chilling as midwinter snow. “The Jade Pillar method is debatable, but Longhu Mountain’s *Baopu Song*? Even the lowest-ranked retainers of Huishan wouldn’t deign to glance at it.”
Bai Yu strained to see the speaker’s face, but all he could discern was a striking flash of violet. He paled, falling silent.
Bai Lian feared few—least of all Xu Fengnian, who, despite his arrogance, was reasonable with those who reasoned. But he knew there existed those who simply refused to play by reason’s rules. And the woman beside him was the most unreasonable of them all.
In his letters, Zhao Ningshen, the current head of Longhu Mountain, often lamented the arrogance and insolence of the young woman surnamed Xuan from Huishan. For a man as patient as Zhao to speak so, she must truly be unparalleled in her unreasonableness. After Huishan’s rise, she had imposed three bans: no Longhu pilgrims on the first and fifteenth of the month, no Zhao-named Daoists within ten miles of Huishan, and no yellow-robed or violet-robed priests in her sight. She had even uprooted ancient trees from Longhu Mountain, tossing a paltry ten taels of silver in compensation. And when in a foul mood, she would hurl massive objects toward the mountain—never injuring anyone, but shattering the peace of cultivation.
Yet Bai Yu knew the true source of Zhao Ningshen’s sorrow lay deeper—his own unresolved feelings. Love had taken root, but found no place to land. A Daoist could sever emotional ties with the sword of wisdom. But some chose not to.
Longhu Mountain was too close to Huishan’s Daxueping. Difu Mountain, however, was just right—near enough to see, yet far enough to remain out of reach.
Why did Zhao Ningshen, blessed with fortune and ancient virtue, clash so fiercely with the new prince? Was it merely because of the past, when Xu Xiao’s army trampled Longhu? No. It was something far more personal.
Bai Yu hesitated, then addressed the woman directly. “Alliance Leader Xuan, do you know Zhao Ningshen—”
Xuan Qingfeng cut him off coldly. “That he likes me? I’ve known for ages. Tell him to say it to my face. Then I’ll teach him the meaning of regret.”
Xu Fengnian, no fan of the Longhu leader, barely suppressed his glee. Had there been a table, he’d have slapped it in delight.
Bai Yu sighed, rubbing his forehead. He wouldn’t dare relay this conversation to Zhao Ningshen.
Xuan Qingfeng frowned. “Is it proper for a mere governor to stand so casually beside a prince?”
Perhaps it was the principle of one thing subduing another. Bai Yu took a deep breath and walked away, muttering about the decline of propriety and the ferocity of modern women.
Xu Fengnian turned to the girl perched on the roof’s edge, legs swinging, and winked at her in silent communication.
The girl—Hehe—merely chuckled, her amusement even more pronounced than Xu Fengnian’s earlier schadenfreude.
Xu Fengnian knew the petty girl had three insurmountable thresholds in life. One involved a certain princess, which had softened slightly after he’d earned her a fortune on Wudang. Another stemmed from the infamous “leaning-on-the-wall” incident, for which the loose-lipped Wang Jijiu had already suffered. The third revolved around moving and gifting books—a task she loathed above all else. And yet, someone had sent crate after crate of secret manuals to Daxueping!
When Xuan Qingfeng had arrived like a comet, Xu Fengnian had braced for Jiang Ni’s flying swords. That none had come was a small mercy. His attempt to bribe Jia Jiajia was a last-ditch effort.
Xuan Qingfeng ignored it all, standing proudly atop the steps. She knew of the Western Chu woman named Jiang Ni within these walls.
Softly, she asked, “How do you think Wen is doing now?”
Xu Fengnian paused. “I think of him sometimes. But not too much.”
She added, “Someday, the three of us should meet. I didn’t hit him hard enough last time. A regret.”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Fine. But I’ll stop you if you try again.”
She tilted her chin, smiling faintly. “Win or lose, let’s make the stingy bastard treat us to drinks. Bleed him dry.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “On that, I won’t interfere!”
Xuan Qingfeng glanced around. “I’ll find a place to stay. When I leave, no need for farewells—you’ll be busy. I’ll track down Wen first. No matter how vast the martial world, it’s still *mine*.”
Xu Fengnian murmured, “Thank you.”
Xuan Qingfeng vanished as swiftly as she’d come, like a wild goose leaving no trace.
She reappeared at Jubei’s northern wall, walking slowly.
*May all lovers in the world be united.*
She had once told another woman that this was the most hateful saying.
But she hadn’t said it was also the most hopeful.
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