At the Xu family residence on Qingliang Mountain, the men were keeping vigil in the grand hall, while the women, though not asleep, had gathered in Xu Weixiong’s courtyard. Despite the extravagant underfloor heating system that matched the grandeur of Wutong Courtyard, neither place had used the charcoal-guzzling heating since the Liang-Mang War. Aunt Zhao Yutai, even in Xu Weixiong’s presence, kept her faceplate on as she bent low to tend the charcoal fire, its glow reflecting brilliantly off the metal. Lu Chengyan and Wang Chudong sat on either side of Xu Weixiong. The lively Wang Chudong, who never cared for the rigid formality of high-backed chairs, perched on a small stool and eventually rested her head on Xu Weixiong’s lap, drowsy-eyed. Xu Weixiong gently stroked her sister-in-law’s hair, lulling her further into sleep. Jia Jiajia and Xu Ying sat by the door, its threshold removed for ease, playing a game of hand gestures with dizzying speed yet in utter silence. Inside and out, only the occasional crackle of charcoal broke the peaceful quiet.
Zhao Yutai gently stirred the ashes to shield Wang Chudong from the heat, then broke the silence with a sigh. “We shouldn’t have pressured Xiao Nian like this. We’re family—even if we knew he wouldn’t listen, we should’ve at least warned him.”
Xu Weixiong gazed at the flickering embers, her voice soft. “Auntie, you know his temper. Stubborn since childhood—once he sets his mind to something, not even Mother’s scolding could sway him. Now he’s a grandmaster of martial arts. If he storms out of Liangzhou in anger, who could stop him? Should I send Yuan Zuozong and the Snow Dragon Cavalry to block him? Xu Yanbing? Huyan Daguang? Even if they could, they’re men of principle—they’d never interfere. They might even relish the chaos. We may have won against Northern Mang, but Father left us only this one legacy. How can we afford to let him squander it?”
Her expression darkened as she continued, her tone deliberately calm. “Why did I summon all of Liang’s influential figures here tonight? Some came out of selfish fear—worried that Liang would be dragged into the Western Chu conflict, losing troops and destabilizing our defenses. They fear losing their hard-won titles, knowing even if the Liyang court pardoned them, rebuilding their careers would take decades. But I believe most came for Liang itself, for our border army, daring to defy their lord for the greater good.”
The room fell deathly silent save for her words.
Xu Weixiong’s voice hardened. “He might boast that Liang’s fleeting peace is his doing—that he fought at Hutou City, Hulu Pass, Qingcang City, across the Western Regions. That he’s earned the right to be reckless.”
Zhao Yutai looked up. “Hasn’t he?”
Xu Weixiong shook her head bitterly. “No.”
Though the cold faceplate hid her scarred visage, Zhao Yutai’s anger was palpable. “Because he’s a Xu? Because he’s the General and Princess’s son?!”
Xu Weixiong met her gaze unflinchingly. “He’s the Xu family’s eldest son! The King of Liang, responsible for two million lives! One of the world’s top four grandmasters! When he chose to shoulder this burden, to train in martial arts, he accepted the duty to lead every charge—just like Father did! To face Tuoba Pusa, Northern Mang’s million-strong army head-on! He sealed his own retreat, denied himself the luxury of a peaceful reign. He has no one to blame but himself!”
Zhao Yutai sighed, understanding at last why Xu Weixiong had opposed Xu Fengnian’s martial training. Becoming a peerless warrior meant he could never hide behind strategy—he’d have to fight on the front lines. Had he remained a powerless young king, not Grandmaster Xu Fengnian, he could’ve avoided the battlefield’s carnage. Or, in her darkest wish, when she feared he’d die for Liang, she could’ve whisked him away to safety. Faced with such selfless devotion, Zhao Yutai couldn’t stay angry.
Xu Weixiong suddenly patted Wang Chudong’s head and declared, “I’m going to add more charcoal to the hall’s braziers.”
Wang Chudong rubbed her eyes, confused.
Zhao Yutai asked bitterly, “Haven’t you done enough?”
After Wang Chudong lifted her head, Xu Weixiong said coldly, “Liu Jinü of Hutou City, Wang Lingbao of the Longxiang Army, Zhu Mu and Gao Shiqing of Wogong City—so many are dead. I’ll add chairs for them in the hall. I want Xu Fengnian to see every empty seat!”
Lu Chengyan spoke up. “I’ll go.”
Xu Weixiong smiled, tapping her forehead. “Silly girl. Anyone can play the villain—except you.”
Zhao Yutai agreed. “Stay out of this, Chengyan.”
Xu Weixiong cut her off. “Auntie, I’m going!”
After a long silence, Zhao Yutai nodded.
The room fell silent without Xu Weixiong. Two incense sticks later, she returned pale-faced in her wheelchair.
Zhao Yutai rushed over. “Did Xiao Nian shout at you? I’ll scold him!”
Xu Weixiong clutched her sleeve, tearful. “I turned back halfway… but they told me he’d already added chairs for the fallen. Auntie… was I wrong?”
Zhao Yutai knelt, wiping her tears. “No. Neither of you is wrong. You’re both good children.”
Inside, Lu Chengyan sat numb while Wang Chudong wept silently.
By the door, Hehe Girl, who’d been sitting sentry with Xu Ying, suddenly said, “Men’s business isn’t ours. Conquering, defending—what’s it to us?”
To everyone’s shock, Xu Ying—perhaps influenced by Jia Jiajia—actually chuckled.
—
In the grand hall sat nothing but heroes, legends, and luminaries.
Chu Lushan, Yan Wenluan, Li Gongde, Yuan Zuozong, Gu Dazu, Chen Yunhui, Zhou Kang, Qi Dangguo, Kou Jianghuai, Hu Kui, Huangfu Ping, Han Laoshan, Song Dongming, Bai Yu, Xu Beizhi, Chen Xiliang, Li Hanlin, Huang Shang, Yang Guangdou, Shi Fu, Le Dian, Hong Biao, Huang Xiaokuai, Yuan Wenbao, Cao Xiaojiao, Hong Xinjia, Wang Zhi, Song Changsui, Xin Yinma, Wei Shaqing, Tian Peifang, Hu Gonglie, Wei Shihui, Jiao Wuyi, Chang Sui, Xu Huang…
Liang’s four meager provinces boasted a military roster that put the unified Liyang Empire to shame.
Outside, Xu Yanbing—whom the young king considered half a step from martial divinity—leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, watching the night.
—
An elderly scholar, having rushed from a Youzhou academy, had been frantic on the road but now strolled leisurely under lantern light toward the famed Tingchao Pavilion. Beside him walked Jin Baoshi, a coldly elegant disciple of Xu Weixiong’s mentor Han Guzi. Unlike her peers who’d joined Liang’s bureaucracy, she’d chosen academia, assisting the old man while pursuing her studies. The man himself was the “stinking chess amateur” the young king mocked—the “national master” who’d played evenly with Xu Xiao. More notably, he was the Shangyin Academy’s former Grand Secretary, the scholar who’d led intellectuals to Liang. Had the Xus ever claimed imperial title, he’d have been their foremost advisor, surpassing even Zhao Changling’s role in the Spring and Autumn Wars. Yet after his monumental contributions, this eminent scholar—also Xu Weixiong’s teacher—had vanished into obscurity at a humble academy.
On Tingchao Pavilion’s broad platform, the old man looked up at the tower, first smiling, then grinning, barely restraining laughter.
Jin Baoshi asked curiously, “Why so happy, Master?”
He chuckled mischievously. “Oh, just recalling something funny. Want to hear? Joy shared is joy doubled.”
Having grown familiar with his antics, Jin Baoshi said dryly, “Feel free to keep it to yourself.”
The man—whose erudition was unquestionably among the era’s finest—had shed all decorum since arriving in Liang, often teasing Jin Baoshi with bawdy jokes. Were he not merely verbal in his mischief, she’d have long since struck him.
Undeterred, he launched into his tale. “Ah, those so-called moralists back in Central Plains—idle men with nothing better to do… Ahem, anyway, they spun such wild tales about Qingliang Mountain! Swore they’d seen it all firsthand. Fool that I was, I believed them! That’s why I begged Weixiong to take me as her student—just an excuse to freeload at the palace! But after I finally got here? Nothing! Not a single dancing maiden, not one scandalous banquet! That brat Xu Fengnian saw right through me, though. Said Tingchao Pavilion had treasures. I searched floor to ceiling for three days! And at the top? Nearly spat blood…”
As he ranted, Jin Baoshi felt vindicated.
Abruptly, the man sobered, becoming the solemn Grand Secretary the world knew.
Pointing to the tower’s peak, he said quietly, “There, I met a scholar. A dying man. One for whom living was harder than death.”
Jin Baoshi looked up. “Li Yishan.”
The old man said gravely, “Contrary to popular belief, Li Yishan was the Spring and Autumn era’s greatest strategist.”
Jin Baoshi frowned. “Not Huang Longshi? Or Yuan Benxi, Nalan Youci? Even among Xu’s advisors, Zhao Changling is considered superior despite his early death—broader in vision than the ‘Venomous Strategist’ Li Yishan.”
The old man bent over as if stifling something.
Puzzled, Jin Baoshi watched as he straightened, unhooked a jade pendant, and smashed it to the ground.
“Understand now?” he asked, smiling.
Jin Baoshi didn’t.
Gesturing at the shards, he said, “Zhao Changling couldn’t transcend his era’s limits. Neither could Nalan Youci. Huang Longshi scattered the pieces but couldn’t reassemble them. Li Yishan could. Smashing jade is easy—mending it is hard.”
As Jin Baoshi pondered, the man muttered, “Good thing I broke it—saved face. But it was valuable! Must get compensation from Xu Fengnian.”
“Master!” Jin Baoshi groaned.
He waved a sleeve. “Enough dawdling. This tower and Li Yishan’s name have steeled my courage. Time to back Xu Fengnian in the hall!”
A cold voice spoke behind them. “Back him how?”
Jin Baoshi froze—her martial instincts screaming danger.
The non-martial old man turned belatedly, blurting, “Damn pretty… Woman? Man?”
Before them stood a figure in white robes, twin sabers at the waist.
Xiudong and Chunlei.
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