Chapter 862: The Wanderer’s Journey (Part 2)

Xu Fengnian and Xu Yanbing had long since quietly left the main party with two horses, guided by a top-tier spy from the Fushui Bureau, arriving at a dirt slope seven or eight miles northwest of the new city.

Occasionally, a squad or a patrol of swift cavalry would gallop past in the distance. Among the scouting parties, compared to before, there were now one or two riders clad in light armor but without the signature Liang sabers or crossbows. These were martial artists from the jianghu who had been meticulously selected by the Liangzhou border army and the Fushui Bureau. According to classified military records from the Huaiyang Pass Protectorate, over two hundred elite martial artists from the Central Plains had already been secretly absorbed into the border army’s scouting units. For the swift cavalry, who often faced life-or-death encounters in narrow passes, this was undoubtedly a godsend reinforcement. After all, the casualties among Liangzhou scouts during the first great war against the Northern Barbarians had been staggering.

When Xu Fengnian spotted the lone figure and two horses atop the slope, he signaled for Xu Yanbing to stay behind. Dismounting alone, he led his horse forward. The burly figure sitting casually on the ground, exuding an imposing aura, did not rise to greet the young Prince of Liang. Instead, he merely lifted his head, squinting at the man now branded by the Northern Barbarians as the most notorious demon in the world.

Xu Fengnian loosened the reins and gently patted his warhorse’s back. The steed, a prized mount from the Xianli pastures of Northern Liang, seemed to understand his intent and trotted off lightly to graze.

Xu Fengnian smiled and asked, “Senior, what brings you back to Northern Liang this time?”

The old man addressed as “senior” wore a heavy sable cloak. As he stood, the clanking of two massive chains could be heard, revealing two enormous, hiltless horse-slaying sabers hanging at his waist. The old man slapped his rear with hands the size of cattail cushions, sending dust flying, and grinned. “Xu brat, I heard that after you fled back from the Northern Barbarians, your martial prowess skyrocketed—even Wang Xianzhi fell to you? Then you went on to fight Tuoba Pusa, Deng Tai’e, and Cao Changqing, the other three grandmasters on the martial rankings? Quite the unstoppable momentum, eh? Well, this old man isn’t convinced. I came all the way from Hexi Province in the Northern Barbarian lands just to spar with you. What do you say?”

Xu Fengnian glanced around, then suddenly put on an ingratiating smile and scurried over to the towering old man, massaging his shoulders. “Senior Chu, Old Immortal Chu, Master Chu… You must be exhausted from such a long journey. How about some wine and meat?”

Perhaps unwilling to strike a smiling face, the old man surnamed Chu accepted the flattery from the Prince of Liang without protest, his earlier aggressive demeanor fading. He grinned at the young man he had practically watched grow up. “Seems like you really took a beating in Tai’an City. Otherwise, with that prideful temper of yours, you’d have already flipped out and fought me for a few hundred rounds without a word.”

Xu Fengnian snorted. “A starved camel is still bigger than a horse, Senior. Don’t push your luck. If I accidentally knock you down and you storm off back to the Northern Barbarians in a huff, ruining whatever big plan Helian Wuwu entrusted to you, who’s going to cry for me then?”

The old man bristled, hands gripping his sabers as if ready to fight. But the young man simply stood there, unfazed, wearing a shameless grin. The white-haired elder sighed, shrugged off Xu Fengnian’s half-hearted shoulder rub, and muttered, “Crafty little devil. Fine, you’re right. Helian Wuwu begged me to come to Northern Liang for two things—one good news, one bad. Which do you want first?”

Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Bad news first. Like chewing sugarcane from the wrong end—sweetness comes later.”

The old man, who had once been imprisoned for years beneath the Listening Tide Lake, said gravely, “Helian and I were both guest elders under the Great Thought faction of the Northern Barbarian’s Princess Tomb. I didn’t hide that from you last time. But after all these years, the so-called Princess Tomb means little to me now. Even Luo Yang has gone to Zhulu Mountain, and I heard that Half-Faced Xiaonian was killed by a single palm strike from Huyan Daguang. So this time, whether it’s me or Helian Wuwu, we’re just here to settle old debts. Once this is done, the ledger’s clean, and we go our separate ways…”

Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes. “Enough, enough. Get to the point. This prince is swamped with affairs of state…”

A slap from the old man cut him off. Xu Fengnian didn’t retaliate, as if the thought never crossed his mind. He merely adjusted his hair, though the gesture did little for his charm—instead, his fingers found gritty sand. Such was life in the northwestern deserts, riding through swirling yellow dust.

After a round of cursing, the old man’s expression turned solemn. “This bad news is no small matter. Ever heard of the Northern Barbarian’s Princess Qingluan? Her public identity is Fan Bainu, the top drummer of the Horseback Drum Troupe. Back when you were still the heir of Northern Liang, that woman had been making eyes at Chen Zhibao for ages. Actually, her real name is Yelü Bainu—a genuine member of the Northern Barbarian royal family. She has a blood feud with that old crone surnamed Murong. Before, she could only endure in silence, but now things are different. After such a crushing defeat, the two trusted aides the old crone relied on—Taiping Ling and Dong Zhuo—are now struggling in the Northern Court and Southern Dynasty, respectively.”

Xu Fengnian nodded. “That’s to be expected. Back then, the debate was whether to attack Northern Liang or the Two Liaos first. Most wanted to pick on the ‘softer’ target, Gu Jianfang. Otherwise, the old crone wouldn’t have sent Tuoba Pusa to patrol the Northern Court grasslands with over a hundred thousand elite cavalry before the war. At its core, it was about suppressing those ‘Yelü princes’ and the great tribal leaders. If they’d succeeded in taking Northern Liang, sweeping into the Central Plains would’ve been a matter of time. Even if it hurt, they could’ve endured it. But failing to even breach Northern Liang’s borders? That’s a whole different story. No one likes sacrificing lives for nothing—especially not those Northern Barbarians, who’ve spent centuries raiding the borders for easy plunder.”

The old man glanced at the composed young man, hesitating before shaking his head and continuing. “The ambitious Yelü Dongchuang has returned to the Northern Barbarians. That brat wouldn’t normally be a threat, but he’s got a powerful grandfather—Yelü Hongcai, a three-dynasty elder of the Northern Court. That old fossil truly lives up to the name. When Emperor Shengzong Yelü Wenshunu kicked the bucket, Yelü Hongcai was one of six at the deathbed, ranked last—hardly a big shot. By Emperor Shenzong’s death, he’d risen to third among five. And when the previous emperor was ‘handled’ by the old crone, there were five regents left. Xu brat, do you know who they were?”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “Grand General Yelü Shulie, Central Plains exile Xu Huainan, Tuoba Pusa, and Murong Baoding. Obviously, Yelü Shulie was already ancient back then, barely holding onto his seat as a symbolic elder of the Northern Barbarian military. Xu Huainan and Tuoba Pusa—one civil, one military—were both the old crone’s handpicked confidants. Murong Baoding? His surname says it all. That leaves Yelü Hongcai, the late emperor’s sole trusted aide, who single-handedly shielded the entire Yelü clan. But over the past decade, aside from bickering with Dong Zhuo during council meetings, the old man’s voice has been conspicuously absent from the Northern Court. Without their pillar, the Yelü princes and tribal leaders naturally grew disillusioned with him.”

The old man sighed. “Helian Wuwu told me privately that the Yelü clan has finally united. They’ve secretly sent Princess Qingluan into the Central Plains to offer Chen Zhibao an unimaginably grand proposal!”

Xu Fengnian frowned. “Chen Zhibao would agree?”

The old man sneered. “I don’t understand these convoluted court and battlefield schemes, but Helian said that in the Guangling Campaign, the court’s attitude toward Chen Zhibao, the Prince of Shu, was one of ‘use but distrust.’ Clearly, they’re wary of him. Even if they conquer Western Chu, when it comes to rewarding merit, Wu Zhongxuan and Lu Shengxiang will likely take the top spots, followed by young generals like Song Li. At best, Chen Zhibao might rank above the Princes of Guangling and Yan, but he could even end up below Prince Jing’an Zhao Xun. Do you think a man as proud as Chen Zhibao—the ‘White-Clothed War Saint’ even the late Emperor Zhao Dun acknowledged—wouldn’t resent this? Even an outsider like me can tell he’d feel slighted. The Liang-Barbarian war had nothing to do with him, nor did the Two Liaos campaign. Finally, he leaves Western Shu, only to scavenge scraps in Guangling. The so-called ‘War Saint’ title? What a joke.”

Xu Fengnian murmured to himself, “If Xie Guanying hadn’t suffered that crushing defeat in the capital, this scenario wouldn’t be plausible. But now… Fan Bainu, Yelü Bainu, Yelü Dongchuang, Yelü Hongcai… Are they promising Chen Zhibao the role of ‘Xu Xiao’ in a new Northern Barbarian dynasty? Both sides are trying to outfox the other. Might Chen Zhibao, dreaming of one day ruling both north and south—achieving what Xu Xiao never did—take the bait?”

The old man didn’t interrupt Xu Fengnian’s contemplation.

Suddenly, Xu Fengnian turned and asked, “What about Gu Jianfang? I don’t see the Grand Pillar of the State being swayed by the Northern Barbarians. Even with Wang Sui leading the eastern front, the odds would be even at best. Have the Northern Barbarians considered how to deal with this last formidable general of the Spring and Autumn Era?”

The old man chuckled. “You two are truly a pair of old and young foxes. Helian Wuwu anticipated this. The old man grinned and said, ‘Let the kid guess.’ Apparently, even he only caught whispers of the inside story and couldn’t say for sure.”

Xu Fengnian crouched, absentmindedly scooping up a handful of scorching sand. After a long pause, he mused, “Even though Prince Liao Zhao Wu is more hindrance than help, the Two Liaos remain an iron fortress. That leaves the western flank as the only weak point. Between Liaodong and Northern Liang, the notable figures are few—Provincial Military Commissioner Cai Nan, Regional Administrator Han Lin, and the deputy generals of Hezhou, all long since cowed by our Northern Liang cavalry. No need to dwell on them. But Jizhou… Prince Han Zhao Xiong is an enigma. When my Fengzi Battalion passed through Jizhou, this ‘Equal of the Emperor’ dared to ride alone into my camp just to chat. Definitely not someone like Zhao Wu. Then there’s Yuan Tingshan, Yang Huchen, and Han Fang—the three powerholders of Jizhou. Yuan Tingshan has his father-in-law Gu Jianfang and the Li Family’s Yan Fortress as backing, which is both support and shackles. Yang Huchen is in Jizhou to atone for past failures—no reason to betray the empire for the Northern Barbarians. As for Han Fang… to be blunt, he’s a pawn I planted years ago. He might not be fiercely loyal to the court, but he’d never defect to the Northern Barbarians. The Han family has fought northern nomads for three to four centuries, with hundreds of their kin dying in battle. Anyone else might switch sides, but not Han Fang.”

The old man stood beside Xu Fengnian, gazing into the distance at the desolate sea of yellow sand. “Enough bad news. Now for the good—though I’m not sure it’s actually good.”

Crouching against the wind, Xu Fengnian opened his palm, letting the sand scatter. “Go ahead, Senior.”

The elder’s voice grew solemn. “Xu Fengnian, you are aware that Helian Wuwu is one of the Northern Barbarians’ Jiedushi, a staunch supporter of the old witch. The reason I, Chu Kuangnu, could slip past the Southern Dynasty’s heavily guarded borders—teeming with spies and raven sentinels—and reach Northern Liang undetected is not due to my own prowess. It is because Helian Wuwu and the old witch held a meeting of utmost secrecy, attended only by the Taiping Ling. The old crone warned Helian that if the Yelü clan dares to stake their fortunes on Chen Zhibao, she has the audacity to forge an alliance with you, Xu Fengnian—and her offer will eclipse all expectations! Should you agree to turn against the empire, even without bringing a single soldier from Northern Liang, she will place you upon a throne beyond your wildest dreams!”

Xu Fengnian laughed. “That old hag’s lost her mind.”

The old man sighed. “The dying often do.”

Xu Fengnian paused. “That… is good news.”

The old man shook his head. “Wrong. Dead wrong. Helian Wuwu’s final message for you is this: If you refuse the Northern Empress’s offer, the next southern invasion will be an all-or-nothing bloodbath.”

Xu Fengnian said calmly, “Whether I agree or not, Northern Liang’s twenty years beyond the pass—and all those who died—have already given the answer.”

The old man smirked. “Your choice, Xu Fengnian. I’m just the messenger. From now on, whether Liang and the Barbarians live or die, it’s none of my damn business.”

Xu Fengnian slowly rose, dusting off his hands. “How about a fight, then? All these years, I’ve remembered your words: ‘Win or lose, fight first, think later!’”

The old man straightened with dignity. “No, no. A senior must act like a senior. Besides, you’re injured. Beating you now would just look like bullying.”

Xu Fengnian grinned silently.

The old man’s face reddened. “Brat! Don’t push it!”

Xu Fengnian burst into laughter.

The old man clapped a hand on the young prince’s shoulder, his expression wistful. “From the first time you nearly drowned in the Listening Tide Lake and I saved you, to your later visits—sometimes diving to train your breath, other times bringing me food—I’ve watched you grow from a boy into the Prince of Liang…”

Xu Fengnian scratched his head awkwardly. “Back then, when I was in a bad mood, I’d often taunt you with food at the lake bottom. Hope you didn’t take it to heart.”

The old man’s face darkened.

Xu Fengnian wisely shut up, sparing the old man further salt in the wound.

With a hearty laugh, the old man said, “On my way here, I heard the jianghu no longer talks much about you lofty top fourteen on the martial rankings—too untouchable. Honestly, even I know my limits. Beating you freaks is impossible. But those so-called ‘Four Sages and Ten Great Masters’ from Snowy Plateau, or the ‘Fourteen Talents of Xiangfu’ copying the old Thirteen Supremes of Spring and Autumn? Now those, I’d love to test!”

Xu Fengnian nodded. “True, many are just fame-hungry frauds. But some on those lists are best left alone—like Sui Xiegu and Yu Xinlang in Northern Liang, or the Martial Alliance Leader Xuan Yuan Qingfeng, Dongyue Sword Pool’s Chai Qingshan, the Southern Zhao’s Wei Miao, the southern frontier’s saber master Mao Shulang, or Long Gong’s Cheng Baishuang…”

The old man’s expression soured with each name. “Damn it, kid! Just tell me who I can beat!”

Xu Fengnian rubbed his chin. “Hmm… Let me think.”

Having no patience for this, the old man turned and strode off, mounting his horse with a flourish. Two steeds, one rider—off to conquer the jianghu of the Central Plains.

Xu Fengnian called after him, grinning, “Don’t let me hear you got knocked flat the moment you returned to the jianghu!”

The burly elder, high on his horse, roared back, “Just wait, brat! Your grandpa’s gonna wreak havoc across the Central Plains!”

As the old man rode down the slope, Xu Fengnian suddenly shouted at his retreating figure, “Old man! The reason I clung to my childhood dream—going to Wudang to train with the blade—was because seeing you at the lake bottom made me believe this world truly has masters.”

The jianghu had masters, immortals—men who could truly stand against thousands. Only then could he, with his own hands, seek vengeance.

So Xu Fengnian was endlessly grateful to this old man, whose collarbones had been pierced by iron chains—the senior who inspired him to keep climbing the martial path.

Without turning, the old man bellowed, “Sentimental crap! If you’ve got the guts—”

He trailed off, realizing he had no taunt left. ‘Become the world’s best?’ The brat had survived Wang Xianzhi, fought Tuoba Pusa across a thousand miles, and taken on two at once in Tai’an City.

In the jianghu, he’d triumphed. In court and battlefield, when had he ever lost?

Finally, as he neared the slope’s base, the old man roared, “Xu Fengnian! Just outlive me, damn it! And remember—when the time comes, bring good wine and meat to this old man’s grave!”