The sun rises, illuminating the heavens and earth in its radiant glow.
Dawn breaks, and a flying sword arrives before its wielder.
Xu Longxiang gazed into the distance and sneered, “Seems like trouble is coming.”
Xu Xiao, unusually distracted, shouldn’t have felt the trepidation of returning home. If anything, the aggressive approach of the opponent should have been laughable to him. He had faced countless sword auras and techniques before—from Huang Qing’s “Sword Qi Approaching,” the foremost swordsman of the Northern Wilderness, to Qi Jiejie’s overwhelming sword energy at the foot of Wudang Mountain. In truth, Xu Xiao had encountered many sword-wielding grandmasters in his life, from Old Huang and the tattered-robed elder to Deng Tai’a, who slew immortals with flying swords by the East Sea, Song Nianqing, who rode into the city with a sword to meet his death, and even the ancestors of the Wu Family Sword Vault. By now, nothing should have surprised him. Yet, inexplicably, this time, as a sword streaked across a hundred miles to visit the military encampment, Xu Xiao felt an unease he couldn’t shake.
At the break of dawn, when the sky was a pale canvas, the sword’s trajectory appeared like a perfectly straight stroke across it.
Xu Longxiang asked, “Your Highness, should I intercept it? Though its aura is formidable, it falls short of Deng Tai’a’s and is at best on par with Chai Qingshan’s. It won’t hinder our march.”
Xu Xiao replied absently, “It’s Lü Dantian, the last remaining sword grandmaster of Western Chu.”
Unsure of Xu Xiao’s thoughts, Xu Longxiang refrained from acting rashly. Knowing the opponent’s identity, he doubted Lü Dantian posed any real threat. Even without him or the young prince, the Snow Dragon Cavalry still had Yuan Zuozong, who had long concealed his strength, and the hundred swordsmen of the Wu Family. Even if Lü Dantian dared to force his way in, ten of him wouldn’t stand a chance. Moreover, the Northern Liang cavalry’s march south was a godsend to the desperate Western Chu. Lü Dantian’s sword was likely just a martial artist’s provocation, not a declaration of war.
With newfound amusement, Xu Longxiang remarked, “I heard this man trained in swordsmanship from a young age but had poor aptitude. No sect in Great Chu would take him as a disciple. Yet, through sheer stubbornness, he achieved mastery in his forties. He gained insights from watching the tides of Guangling River, the sunrise from a mountain, and the vast sea from a tower. After Western Chu fell, he retreated into seclusion. Now, with the kingdom’s revival, his disciples have joined the army, and he’s become the commander of the imperial guards. This sword, soaring with purple qi, must be his ‘Sunrise Sword,’ perfected in his sixties.”
Xu Xiao’s mood lightened slightly, though his smile remained strained. “I admire these masters who gain strength from mere sightseeing. Not me—I had to fight for every bit of mine.”
Xu Longxiang teased, “Your Highness, even I find that hard to swallow. Us veterans of the Spring and Autumn Wars must’ve wasted our lives if a youngster like you can say that.”
Xu Xiao chuckled self-deprecatingly, “Same here. Looking at Yu Dilong and the others, I already feel like an old hand.”
The sun rose in the east, painting the sky with auspicious purple hues.
The flying sword, having crossed half the distance, suddenly accelerated, tracing a breathtaking arc through the morning light.
Xu Longxiang squinted at the sword and hesitantly asked, “Your Highness, what’s troubling you?”
Xu Xiao murmured, “Afraid this trip might be for nothing.”
He rubbed his hands for warmth. “Maybe I was wrong to drag the Northern Liang cavalry into Guangling on a whim.”
Xu Longxiang shook his head. “You’re mistaken. Generals like Yan Wenluan, Gu Dazu, and Zhou Kang had their reservations, but middle-ranking officers like Pang Jianrui and Niu Qianzhu saw this as a golden opportunity. After twenty years of enduring taunts from the rear while fighting on the frontlines, they’re eager to flaunt their might. Even if they die beyond the pass, they’ll do so without regret. It’s human nature… Your Highness, the sword is only thirty miles away. Will you act?”
Xu Xiao, no longer melancholic, smiled. “Why rush?”
Yuan Zuozong appeared in the distance. Xu Xiao waved him off, and the latter understood, ordering the Snow Dragon Cavalry to carry on as usual, ignoring the uninvited guest.
When the sword closed within ten miles of the camp, it accelerated again, swift as a young dragon breaking through a river.
The sound of its approach was faint at first, like distant firecrackers, but soon grew deafening, like thunder at one’s ear.
Xu Xiao placed his hands on the hilts of his twin blades, *Northern Liang Saber* and *Crossing the River*.
At the brink of conflict, Xu Xiao suddenly released his grip. Simultaneously, the sword’s tip dipped slightly and embedded itself in the ground, ten paces from him. Though motionless, purple sword qi still shimmered around its length.
Moments later, a tall, elderly man in plain robes strode into the camp. He carried a long, cloth-wrapped object on his back and stopped fifty paces from Xu Xiao and Xu Longxiang. Glancing around, the old man seemed surprised that no soldiers had come to “greet” him, leaving him both disappointed and indignant. With white hair, brows, and beard, he bore the elegance of a southern scholar and the stature of a northern warrior. His aura was unmistakably that of a grandmaster. He glanced at the young prince, whom he’d heard so much about, and snorted. With a flick of his wrist, the embedded sword flew back into the black scabbard at his waist.
Xu Xiao’s gaze remained fixed on the object strapped to the old man’s back.
This Western Chu sword grandmaster had once held a status akin to Qi Jiejie in the martial world. He was of the same generation as Imperial Tutor Li Mi and Grand Tutor Sun Xiji. Even Cao Zhangqing would have shown him deference as a junior.
Lü Dantian boomed, feigning ignorance, “So, you’re the Northern Liang Prince, Xu Xiao?”
Xu Xiao met the old man’s accusatory stare calmly. “I am.”
Lü Dantian untied the cloth bundle and planted it before him. “Xu, you didn’t even dare to face my sword. How did you make it into the top four of the martial rankings? Did the Wu Family’s hundred dogs and the ten thousand cavalry your father left you give you the courage to strut around the Central Plains?”
Xu Xiao countered, “Where is she?”
Lü Dantian, furious at being ignored, barely restrained his rage. “None of your damn business, coward!”
Silence fell over the camp, broken only by the occasional whinny of a horse. But Lü Dantian’s sword trembled violently, and the old man tensed, locking eyes with the middle-aged man beside Xu Xiao.
Xu Xiao raised an arm to stop Xu Longxiang. “If she wants to return something, she should come herself. Take it back—”
Lü Dantian cut him off. “You dare order me? You dare dictate to Her Majesty?”
Xu Xiao said firmly, “Please return.”
He emphasized the word *please*.
Lü Dantian laughed scornfully, thumb stroking his hilt. “Know this sword? Forged by the Shanhai Sword Furnace by Guangling River, it was once named ‘Great River.’ After the Battle of Xileibi, I renamed it ‘Slay Xu.’ Pity Her Majesty forbade me from slaughtering you today. Otherwise, my sword would’ve advanced five more steps.”
Xu Xiao frowned. “Finished?”
Lü Dantian taunted, “What if I am? Dare you fight me? If not, what can you do if I keep talking?”
Xu Longxiang interjected flatly, “At Xileibi, sixteen of the Lü clan’s direct descendants died. The Ma family, your in-laws, lost over a hundred men.”
Lü Dantian’s face twisted with fury, his grip tightening on his sword.
Xu Xiao sighed. “Leave.”
Lü Dantian roared, “Xu Xiao! As the Northern Liang Prince and a grandmaster, why fear a fight?!”
The next moment, Lü Dantian froze, wide-eyed and speechless.
Before him, two fingers hovered an inch from his forehead.
If his sword advancing five steps could have “hoped” to decapitate Xu Xiao, then those fingers needed only to move an inch further to pierce his skull.
The gap between them was as vast as heaven and earth.
In that instant, Lü Dantian realized a simple truth: this seemingly amiable young man wasn’t meek because he was weak.
Xu Xiao spoke slowly, word by word. “Take the sword box back to Xileibi. Return the *Great Liang Dragon Sparrow* to Jiang Ni. Understood?”
Lü Dantian gritted his teeth, refusing to speak. Humiliated and powerless, the pride of Western Chu’s swordsmanship felt his spirit wither. The martial rankings hadn’t lied—without reaching the Land Deity realm, even a Heavenly Phenom grandmaster was as helpless before Xu Xiao, Cao Zhangqing, Deng Tai’a, or Tuoba Pusa as a mere second-rate expert.
Xu Xiao withdrew his fingers. “You’ve shown off your hundred-mile sword. Now, deliver a message to your emperor: I’ll come to see her and speak face to face.”
Though defeated, Lü Dantian refused to back down. “Xu Xiao, I brought this, and I won’t take it back! If you have the guts, carry it through Wu Zhongxuan’s army and our iron ranks!”
Xu Xiao smiled faintly. “Very well.”
Yuan Zuozong called out, “Go ahead. The likes of Xu Gong aren’t worth your personal attention.”
Xu Longxiang added, “Should I or some of the Wu Family swordsmen accompany you?”
Xu Xiao shook his head. “No need.”
Yuan Zuozong and Xu Longxiang exchanged knowing smiles.
Xu Xiao suddenly grinned. “In this world, is there anywhere I can’t go?”
Xu Longxiang clicked his tongue. “That’s a punchable thing to say.”
Yuan Zuozong nodded in agreement.
Watching the three Northern Liang men’s nonchalance, Lü Dantian felt a strange mix of emotions—old hatred for the Xu family’s cavalry and reluctant admiration for their unshakable confidence.
Ignoring the conflicted grandmaster, Xu Xiao turned and tugged at the cloth covering the sword box, revealing the purple sandalwood case beneath. His eyes flickered with nostalgia, but his expression soon hardened. After a moment’s thought, he murmured, “Wait for me.”
In the next instant, he was gone, leaving only the box behind.
A thunderous roar echoed across the sky, louder than Lü Dantian’s sword, as if the heavens themselves were bidding farewell to the old year.
Lü Dantian stood stunned.
With a bitter smile, he looked down at the sword he’d carried for forty years. “Old friend, I’ve failed you.”
Heartbroken, Lü Dantian departed soon after.
As he soared away, a thought crossed his mind: *It’s time to leave the martial world for good.*
In the vast expanse of heaven and earth, his sword fell like a strand of hair.
Many years later, an unknown soldier who’d left the Guangling battlefield would find this abandoned sword in the mountains. Wielding it, he’d rise to prominence in the martial world. Decades after that, this southern swordsman, at the peak of his fame, would challenge Yu Dilong—the undisputed strongest—only for his blade to snap. This event would bring Gou Youfang, a wandering scholar and his close friend, into the spotlight, leading to his first legendary duel with Yu Dilong and a decade-long rivalry that would define the next sixty years of the martial world.
But for now, Yu Dilong was just a scout sergeant in Youzhou’s cavalry, and Gou Youfang a boy selling steamed buns in Martial Emperor City.
Above them all still stood the four peaks of the martial world—Xu Xiao, Cao Zhangqing, and the others—with ten more mountains like Xu Longxiang and Gu Jianfang looming before the next generation.
Yuan Zuozong said worriedly, “Do you think His Highness will detour to Guangling River first?”
Xu Longxiang nodded. “To confront Chen Zhibao? Likely.”
Then he clapped Yuan Zuozong’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t Chen Zhibao be the one worrying?”
Yuan Zuozong chuckled. “True enough.”
※※※
The Central Plains’ majestic rivers and mountains stretched endlessly. On the Guangling River, towering warships flew their banners proudly.
At the heart of the fleet, a white-robed man emerged from the flagship’s cabin, holding a spear.
*Plum Wine*.
The river surged.
The heavens roared with wind.
An immortal journeyed south.
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