Xu Fengnian handed his horse to the tavern attendant but didn’t head straight to the third floor. Instead, he chose a newly vacated window seat on the second floor, ordering two servings of braised eel and carp in sauce. Upon hearing that the green ant wine was complimentary, he asked for two jugs.
The bustling atmosphere of Bei’an Town was somewhat unexpected, though not entirely surprising. This autumn and winter, the Wudang Mountain would host a martial arts debate, undoubtedly drawing swarms of martial artists and heroes from across the jianghu. Those with sharp eyes could tell that the Northern Liang Dao intended to help Wudang Mountain overshadow Longhu Mountain. As for the idea of striking while the iron was hot, it came from Deputy Jinglueshi Song Dongming. The two surviving elders of Wudang, Chen Yao and Yu Xingrui, weren’t without disagreements. Chen Yao didn’t want such ostentatious displays—the ceaseless incense offerings day and night already had the old man overwhelmed. But the chivalrous and bold Yu Xingrui insisted on holding the event, leaving Chen Yao no choice but to yield to his fiery-tempered junior brother. In the end, what truly convinced Chen Yao to relent wasn’t the subtle hints from Qingliang Mountain or the fact that Yu Xingrui had mentored the current sect leader, Li Yufu, but rather the four words inscribed on the mountain’s archway:
*Wudang shall rise.*
And Li Yufu’s words further reassured Chen Yao: *When the mountain is empty, I cultivate in tranquility. When the mountain is crowded, I still cultivate in tranquility.*
Compared to the previous spectacle when the Purple-clad Beauty of Huishan drew the righteous sects of the jianghu westward in droves, this Wudang martial debate promised even greater fanfare. Huang Fangfo, the true authority of Daxueping, had already spread word across the Central Plains jianghu that all Huishan retainers would attend. Kuai Xue Villa and Youyan Villa had almost simultaneously agreed, with Long Palace and Jiagu Terrace following closely behind. The young exiled immortal from Taibai Sword Sect, currently the most dazzling figure in the jianghu, even declared he would debate the Dao with Wudang’s leader Li Yufu at Zixu Palace and challenge the Northern Liang Prince Xu Fengnian to a martial duel atop Little Lotus Peak!
With this, seven of the top ten sects and factions in Liyang had already confirmed their participation, including the local Yulong Gang of Northern Liang. Dongyue Sword Pool and Jin Cuo Dao Manor remained silent, while Chun Tie Caotang, given the well-known tensions between Northern Liang and Western Shu, was unlikely to join the fray—especially since Xie Xie, who had topped the Rouge Ranking twice, wouldn’t waste her time on an event that only served others’ interests.
Of the twelve prodigies born from the remnants of the Spring and Autumn Thirteen Armors, Xuanyuan Qingfeng stood unrivaled, claiming three titles for herself. The other nine were almost all on the move, including three of the Four Sages, such as Jiagu Terrace’s Music Sage. At least half of the jianghu’s Ten Great Wanderers and Ten Great Young Masters were certain to appear at this grand event.
Factions like Kuai Xue Villa, You Yan Villa, Taibai Sword Sect, and Jiagu Terrace, still lacking solid foundations, needed the exposure—especially Taibai Sword Sect, which relied on a single figure to uphold its reputation. The young sect master, hailed as the third-greatest swordsman in the past century, had won thunderous applause for his audacious challenge to the young prince. Many female admirers, renowned in the jianghu, had publicly voiced their support, declaring that even if he lost this duel, his unparalleled talent and rapid ascension would surely see him dethrone the young prince from the martial rankings within a decade.
Just as Xu Fengnian was about to raise his cup of green ant wine, the tavern attendant led two people over, bowing apologetically. Before the attendant could speak, Xu Fengnian smiled and said, “Sharing the table? No problem.”
The two newcomers sat down—an unremarkable-looking old man who grinned at Xu Fengnian before taking the seat opposite him, and a woman in black with a veiled hat, two well-worn horizontal sabers hanging at her right hip, crossed and overlapping. The blades were longer than typical sabers.
The woman sat on the bench between the old man and Xu Fengnian, facing the window. She removed her hat, revealing a striking face brimming with vigor.
Her beauty wasn’t the kind to topple nations, but it was undeniably *uncommon*—the sort that lingered in memory after a single glance. Her aura was sharp yet not overbearing.
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Good deeds really do bring good rewards.”
The young woman showed no reaction, not even a frown.
Instead of sidelong glances at this stranger who might be a flirt, she turned and looked directly at him. After meeting his eyes, she smiled faintly. “Thank you.”
Both of them had clear, untroubled gazes.
The old man laughed heartily. Compared to his granddaughter, he was far more talkative. “Meeting by chance is fate. Young master, judging by your accent, you’re a local of Liangzhou?”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Ancestral roots in Liaodong’s Jinzhou, but my family settled in Northern Liang long ago.”
The old man beamed. “This old man’s surname is Tong, a half-baked jianghu wanderer at best. Call me Elder Tong or Uncle Tong if you don’t mind the age gap.”
Xu Fengnian grinned. “Elder Tong it is. ‘Boss Tong’ feels too distant, and the generational difference would make conversation awkward. By the way, my surname is Xu.”
The old man nodded vigorously. “That’s the spirit! I’ll have two extra bowls of rice later.”
Then his face fell. “Didn’t expect Northern Liang to be so expensive. A few days in, and my purse is nearly empty. Otherwise, I’d have been drinking and feasting on the third floor long ago.”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “As long as we’re full.”
The old man paused, then raised a thumb. “Young Xu, that’s profound! You must be well-read.”
Xu Fengnian nearly choked. In all these years, few had ever praised his erudition—aside from the likes of Chu Lushan and Li Gongde, the infamous “Xu family sycophants.” But looking back now, the old man’s admiration seemed genuine.
Xu Fengnian quickly poured him a drink. Glancing at the young woman, he saw her shake her head, so he didn’t pour for her.
The old man sighed dramatically. “Unlike my granddaughter here, who’d rather die than learn needlework. She’s obsessed with sabers—so much so that she’s scared off every suitor. Nearly thirty and still unmarried! Back home, women her age are already grandmothers. Young Xu, tell me, shouldn’t I worry?”
Xu Fengnian stifled a laugh, though he refrained from commenting in the woman’s presence.
The double-sabered woman seemed resigned to her grandfather’s relentless enthusiasm.
The old man peeked at his granddaughter, sighed again, and took a sip. Softly, he muttered, “Borrowing another’s wine to drown my sorrows.”
The young woman remained unmoved.
True to his word, the old man was indeed strapped for cash. His two dishes were far cheaper than Xu Fengnian’s, but with Xu Fengnian constantly refilling his cup, his spirits soared.
Unfortunately, his alcohol tolerance—and etiquette—left much to be desired.
Half a jug of green ant wine later, he was already red-faced, loud, and spittle-flying, spouting grandiose nonsense between sips.
“Drink fine wine with the young, hunt atop the western hills! Young Xu, sharing this drink with you makes this Northern Liang trip worthwhile.”
“Young Xu, though I’m no scholar or warrior, I believe in karma—save an ant, earn a top scholar’s rank; bury a snake, gain a minister’s glory. Do you believe?”
“The poor die burdened by resentment, the rich by attachment. Who wins in the end? The King of Hell flipping through the Book of Life must be laughing. Don’t you think?”
Xu Fengnian finally understood—Elder Tong had indeed read a few books, but his quotes were jumbled and often nonsensical. Still, they weren’t entirely without merit.
The old man planted a foot on the bench, nearly challenging Xu Fengnian to a drinking game. “Young Xu, don’t think I’m drunk. I’m not!”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Of course. I’d be drunk before you.”
The young woman sat primly, eating slowly and methodically.
Suddenly, the old man gazed out the window and sighed. “They say southerners breed scholars, northerners generals, and the northwest’s yellow earth buries emperors. Northern Liang’s soil is the richest, yet it yields the poorest harvests. At least it raised the world’s finest cavalry—no disgrace to this land.”
Xu Fengnian followed his gaze to the brightly lit streets, silent.
The old man turned back and slammed the table. “I’m just a jianghu ruffian. Battlefield affairs are beyond me. Young Xu, since we’re like family now, I’ll be blunt—your Yulong Gang is a disgrace. One of the top ten factions? More like a den of snakes and rats. Just like Nanjiang’s Long Palace is merely a courtyard for Yan Chi King’s Nalan Youci, what’s Yulong Gang to Qingliang Mountain? Just the young prince’s second Listening Tide Lake. Twenty or thirty thousand members? No different from the ten thousand carp in Qingliang’s ponds! And Jiagu Terrace in Jiangnan is no better—rumored to be the brainchild of the Shangzhuguo’s eldest grandson. Who knows if that aloof Liu Hunxian is some eunuch’s lover?”
He stared into his cup, melancholy. “Even Dongyue Sword Pool, centuries old—why did Song Nianqing die? Why did Chai Qingshan appear on Tai’an’s walls? Young Xu, you’re too young to understand. In the days when Wang Xianzhi guarded Wudi City—no, guarded the entire jianghu—things were different. Even Longhu Mountain, always cozy with the court, stood tall as ‘mountain monarchs,’ looking down on nobles. And don’t forget, Liangchan Temple once had a white-robed monk welcomed by the old Liyang emperor himself.”
He kept muttering, *“The jianghu wasn’t like this back then,”* before draining his cup and staring blankly at Xu Fengnian. “Why did Wang Xianzhi lose to your young prince? Why did he have to die? He shouldn’t have died. Couldn’t have. His death… changed the jianghu.”
Xu Fengnian had briefly wondered if the old man recognized him, but quickly dismissed the thought.
Words, expressions, even eyes could lie—but a martial artist’s qi couldn’t hide from Xu Fengnian unless they were a terrestrial immortal.
Conversely, Xu Fengnian’s restrained aura made him nearly undetectable even to Heavenly Phenom realm experts.
The old man sighed heavily, then grinned. “I’ve been around, Young Xu. You’re no ordinary man—daring to flaunt a Northern Liang saber in public. If I had to guess, you’re from one of Liangzhou’s prominent military families?”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Prominent indeed.”
The old man chuckled. “No matter. More wine! The table’s dry—another jug?”
Xu Fengnian waved for the attendant, ordering two more jugs. The attendant rolled his eyes behind their backs.
*Damn freeloaders. Barely ordered any food but guzzling free wine like it’s water.*
Unbeknownst to them, the odd pair of drinking buddies had already polished off five jugs of green ant wine—renowned for *scalding throats and burning guts.*
The young woman finally spoke softly. “Grandfather, that’s enough. This wine’s aftereffects are strong.”
The old man swayed, grinning blearily. “Let me enjoy myself for once. You don’t drink, so you don’t know—wine is the world’s best cooling medicine. Why else would they say fame and fortune are thicker than wine, intoxicating hearts to death?”
He clinked cups with Xu Fengnian and downed another gulp.
Earlier, his unsteady hands had made clinking a challenge. But now, after the second jug, his speech was clearer—perhaps sobering from extreme drunkenness.
Suddenly, the old man smirked and winked at Xu Fengnian, using “Young Master Xu” for the first time. “So, what do you think of my granddaughter?”
Xu Fengnian was speechless.
*Was this a matchmaking attempt?*
The old man must’ve truly sobered up.
The young woman took a deep breath, then composed herself, eyes fixed on her nose.
The old man sighed. “Relax. I may be old, but my eyes are sharp. You’d be a fine match for many women—just not my granddaughter’s type.”
The old man’s eyes grew increasingly bright as he twisted the wine cup between his fingers, murmuring to himself, “Back when I was as young as you, I loved roaming the martial world. That’s how I had the fortune to meet many old-timers—some were towering figures like dragons, such as the Sword God Li Chungang, the Green Robe of Fengdu, the Harbinger of Spring Liu Yingong, and many others. I also met countless small-time folk from the jianghu, whose names I can’t even recall now. But no matter what, the people of that era truly believed in the old codes—codes that people today dismiss as foolish and outdated. They valued honor above life itself, keeping promises worth a thousand gold. That’s why I don’t care for your Beiliang’s Fish-Dragon Gang, nor do I like the current Liyang jianghu. The martial world today? It’s nothing but a stagnant puddle beneath the steps of the imperial court. Even if there are more land immortals than ever, it’s still dull. After all, the jianghu is meant to be *lived*, not just watched or heard about.”
At this point, the old man cast a tender glance at his granddaughter. “But if she likes it, that’s all that matters.”
He chuckled. “Though if I had to pick what I dislike the most, it’d still be the Xu family of Beiliang.”
Xu Fengnian’s expression remained unchanged as he lowered his head and took a sip of wine.
The blunt old man sighed mournfully. “Twenty years ago, the Liyang jianghu didn’t dare speak of integrity before the Xu family’s iron cavalry—it was trampled inch by inch beneath their hooves. Now, that Butcher Xu has finally gone to meet King Yama, yet the Liyang jianghu still doesn’t dare call itself skilled in front of the Xu family. Seems like the martial world has truly regressed. Back then, Butcher Xu Xiao at least relied on his invincible cavalry to dominate the jianghu. But now? Xu Xiao’s eldest son alone is enough to make the entire jianghu choke on their own pride.”
Xu Fengnian raised his cup. “Old Brother, here’s to you.”
The old man, who had initially resolved not to drink any more, hesitated before pouring himself a full cup of Green Ant Wine. He grinned and asked, “Why the sudden toast? What, lad, are you surnamed Xu? Got some ties to the Northern Liang Palace on Qingliang Mountain?”
Xu Fengnian narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Because drinking Green Ant Wine in this tavern doesn’t cost a single coin.”
The old man’s lips twitched. “What? No silver?”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “The food’s outrageously expensive, and not a penny less will do. But the Green Ant Wine? Not a single copper needed.”
The young woman stifled a laugh.
The old man froze for a moment before bellowing, “Waiter! Bring two more jugs of Green Ant!”
Xu Fengnian suppressed a grin. “Brother Tong, I really can’t drink anymore.”
The old man glared at him, huffing, “Brat, don’t call me ‘Brother Tong.’ Call me ‘Uncle Tong’!”
Suddenly, the young woman pressed her hand against the hilt of her saber and said gravely, “Upstairs—there’s killing intent.”
Xu Fengnian’s expression turned peculiar.
Assuming the seemingly ordinary Liangzhou nobleman wasn’t taking her seriously, the young woman—out of rare consideration for the man who had shared so many jugs of wine with her grandfather—added, “Young Master Xu, the third floor is packed with experts. At least four or five auras are overwhelmingly powerful. If these grandmasters, who could easily rank among the first-tier, were to clash, I might not be able to protect you.”
Xu Fengnian was well aware of the situation upstairs.
Cheng Baishuang, the foremost figure of the Southern Border; the saber grandmaster Mao Shulang; Ji Liu’an, the chief guest of the Dragon Palace; Wei Miao, the top expert of Nanzhao; and the blind zither master Xue Songguan.
That made five already.
The reason for Xu Fengnian’s odd expression was the young woman’s mention of “killing intent,” which reminded him of two phrases he’d heard countless times before.
*There’s killing intent between my legs.*
*Down below is feeling melancholic.*
Whenever two greenhorn martial artists stood side by side relieving themselves, they’d always compete over whose “killing intent” was stronger.
Late at night or early in the morning, whenever someone glanced down, they’d mutter, *Brother, my apologies. It’s this elder brother’s fault for being useless. Just endure a little longer.*
He also remembered how, back when they’d posed as fortune-tellers to swindle people, that guy once secretly slipped a “shattered bones fear no pain, only purity remains”—the worst possible fortune—into the divination tube. A young maiden, led by an elder, had drawn it to divine her marital prospects. The result… well, it spoke for itself.
Though, to be fair, that maiden’s looks were truly earth-shattering—in the worst way.
Xu Fengnian instinctively glanced out the window, unaware that the corners of his lips had curled into a warm smile.
By the time he snapped back to reality, a thunderous crash erupted from the third floor.
Xu Fengnian stood. “Uncle Tong, Miss Tong, I have friends up there. I should go check on them.”
He’d long since deduced the young woman’s identity—Tong Shanquan, the master of Nanzhao’s Golden Saber Manor, a genuine grandmaster of saber arts among contemporary women. Her martial path mirrored that of Lin Ya, the fist grandmaster of Emperor City.
The twin sabers at her right waist were ranked sixth and ninth among the world’s heaviest blades:
*Martial Virtue* and *Heavenly Treasure.*
The old man’s expression turned grave. “In that case, let my granddaughter accompany you.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head with a smile. “I appreciate the offer, Uncle Tong, but don’t worry—I know my limits.”
Just as the old man was about to insist, his granddaughter tugged his sleeve and shook her head.
Though puzzled, the old man still fretted, “Be careful. If anything goes wrong, just shout.”
Strangers meeting by chance, yet willing to risk life and limb—perhaps that was the jianghu of the old man’s generation.
Xu Fengnian took two steps before suddenly turning back, clasping his fists with a grin. “That last cup was on behalf of my father, toasting you, Elder Tong. If he could’ve heard your words in person, forget five jugs—he’d have gladly shared ten or twenty with you.”
After Xu Fengnian left, the old man scratched his head in confusion. “Girl, what did I just say?”
She replied solemnly, “I forgot.”
Still slightly dazed, the old man shook his head and laughed. “Girl, I’ve figured something out.”
She tilted her head curiously.
The old man said seriously, “That young man… he’s no ordinary fellow.”
The young woman, hailed alongside the Taibai Sword Sect’s celestial prodigy as one of the jianghu’s twin jewels, took a deep breath and pressed her lips together, silent.
Just as her disappointment peaked, the old man dropped a bombshell.
“He *is* the Northern Liang King, Xu Fengnian.”
Her entire body stiffened in shock.
The old man took a small sip of wine and chuckled.
*Silly girl, you actually believed that?*
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