This narrow, short street leading to the Xiamawei Posthouse wasn’t particularly crowded.
Yet when those figures stood scattered along its length, facing the posthouse from a distance, even the most ignorant onlooker could sense something amiss—or rather, that the young prince’s situation was far from favorable.
Xu Xiao chuckled, “Quite the spectacle.”
Xu Long Xiang rattled off names like a seasoned expert: “The three standing side by side—all old acquaintances who’ve tangled with the Fushui Bureau for years. Aside from Yuan Benxi, who personally crafted the Zhao Hook, there were five others who truly got things done. One from Guangling died before Yuan, taken out by Cao Changqing himself. That limping old man over there? He should be wearing a copper fish pouch—the second-ranked covert enforcer of the Ministry of Justice, a shadowy figure known only by the surname Yao. Like Liu Haoshi, he’s a gatekeeper for Tai’an City, barely a visible Zhao Hook leader. That ‘youthful’ one? Skilled in preserving his looks. Early on, he deliberately made a few half-hearted moves as misdirection, never appearing at the Imperial Observatory. The Fushui Bureau archives dismissed him as small fry, never realizing he commanded all northern Qi practitioners. But since he dared show his face today, he’s confirmed as one of Zhao Hook’s leaders. That ‘boy’ with the short blade slung across his back? Probably similar to Zhao Xuansu of Longhu Mountain, whom Deng Tai’a skewered with a flying sword—using forbidden arts to reverse aging. No wonder the Fushui Bureau couldn’t trace him. Who’d expect someone growing younger, needing no disguise? But since he’s still a ‘boy’ and not a child, his mastery must be mediocre.”
Compared to his dismissive tone toward these three, Xu Long Xiang’s demeanor shifted when he spotted the man with a green-clad girl perched on his shoulders and the striking young Daoist further away. “Yu Xinlang and Qi Xian Xia—two unexpected arrivals.”
Xu Xiao raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
Xu Long Xiang blinked, lowering his voice. “A prince like me brawling with a bunch of self-proclaimed martial artists? Unseemly. Win, and I’m still just one of the Four Great Masters, no closer to surpassing the rest. Draw, and even if I take on a crowd, it’s still a loss of face.”
Xu Xiao sighed. “Your Highness, just admit you’re injured and can’t fight. A group beating might end badly. Simple as that.”
Suddenly serious, Xu Long Xiang said, “The problem is—I plan to fight them anyway.”
Xu Xiao stared, waiting for an explanation.
Xu Long Xiang nodded.
With a laugh, Xu Xiao turned and strode back to the posthouse without hesitation.
At the street’s end, the green-clad girl on Yu Xinlang’s shoulders whispered, “Little Yu, why did that spear-wielding uncle leave? Doesn’t he care about that guy? Didn’t you say his energy’s in chaos, like floodwaters raging?”
Yu Xinlang replied gently, “I’m not sure. But doesn’t he suddenly remind you of two people now?”
The girl squinted. “Who? I can’t tell!”
Yu Xinlang’s expression was complex—bitter, wistful, and uncharacteristically lost.
Li Chun Gang, unrivaled sixty years ago. Wang Xian Zhi, unrivaled for sixty years.
Yu Xinlang sighed. “Let’s go find some candied hawthorns.”
The girl nodded.
Approaching Qi Xian Xia, Yu Xinlang eyed the peachwood sword at the young Daoist’s waist. “How many strikes will you ask of the Prince of Liang?”
Known for his aloofness, Qi Xian Xia first smiled at the girl before answering calmly, “Not strikes. The Dao.”
Yu Xinlang pressed, “They say you traveled a thousand miles along the Guangling River with Li Yu Fu of Wudang. Will the Dao you seek today be the Dao of principles, or the Heavenly Dao? The ascent of Longhu Mountain, or the descent of Wudang?”
The girl sighed like a weary elder. “Little Yu, I don’t understand.”
Qi Xian Xia paled as if struck by lightning, murmuring, “The Great Dao does not seek immortality…”
Yu Xinlang glanced back at the prince in his python robe, then at the Daoist before him.
The girl tapped Yu Xinlang’s head with her chin. “Little Yu, if he’s not cultivating for immortality, what’s the point?”
As they passed Qi Xian Xia, Yu Xinlang finally said, “Hard to say. But I think this Daoist is descending Longhu to ascend Wudang.”
Unbeknownst to the world, that day, the mystical golden lotus of Longhu Mountain sprouted six new blossoms.
And Qi Xian Xia, once half a step from immortality, lost all his cultivation in an instant. Leaving Tai’an, he gazed at the road, whispering joyfully, “The Great Dao!”
The heavens lost an immortal. The mortal world gained a true sage.
Simultaneously, by Chun Shen Lake, Li Yu Fu bowed solemnly toward Tai’an.
※※※
Xu Long Xiang, not Xu Xiao, was the first to notice the anomaly—though he chose to watch silently.
The plain-faced northern Qi master sensed it next, locking onto Qi Xian Xia with a pained expression, torn between intervention and resignation. In the end, he sighed, his face etched with sorrow.
Whether Qi Xian Xia succeeded or not, the Zhao Hook leader knew his own path to unity with the heavens was forever closed.
Regret flickered and vanished as he laughed bitterly, “Land Immortal! What a ‘land-bound’ immortal!”
In moments, the middle-aged man withered into an old husk—yet his martial prowess soared to the Great Heavenly Phenom realm.
Most onlookers, lacking even minor mastery, only saw a man aging unnaturally, exchanging baffled glances.
The limping elder growled, “What happened?”
The Qi master smiled faintly. “Half good, half bad. Given time, he might yet touch the Land Immortal threshold.”
The blade-carrying “youth” sneered, “So do we scrap the plan? Bet bigger?”
The elder shook his head.
Their orders were clear: no killing. At best, injure; at worst, don’t lose too badly. Show Tai’an that the so-called Four Great Masters were overrated.
But even if they wanted to kill, how? Against Xu Long Xiang and Xu Xiao?
Now, with a near-Land Immortal among them, the “youth” saw an opening.
The elder hissed, “The master is dead, but his child lives.”
The “youth” spat, “We’re pathetic!”
The Qi master frowned. “Something’s off. Qi Xian Xia and Yu Xinlang left, but I…”
The “youth” scoffed, “Obviously. To Xu Xiao, you’re still no match for those two combined.”
The Qi master ignored the jab, muttering, “It’s more than that.”
Standing between the trio and Xu Long Xiang, Li Hao Ran burned with humiliation.
The prince’s indifference stung the proud disciple most.
Xu Long Xiang finally stepped forward.
※※※
In a packed tavern by the street’s end, a gray-templed scholar drank alone, ignoring the commotion.
Across the way, a coldly handsome man in white sipped green-ant wine, each cup drained in silence.
Nearby, Li Yi Bai of Dongyue Sword Pool sat with an elder and two youths—Chai Qingshan, Song Ting Lu, and Shan Er Yi.
In an adjacent inn, the swordless elder Wu Jian watched from a window.
At the city gates, a dashing “young master” entered with a veiled woman in crimson. Behind them, a donkey-leading man followed.
On the walls, a purple-clad woman stood against the wind, her tied skirts fluttering.
※※※
In the autumn of Xiangfu’s second year, as cicadas faded, after Xu Long Xiang entered Tai’an—
Xu Xiao, Yu Xinlang, Qi Xian Xia, Jia Jia Jia.
Cao Changqing, Chen Zhi Bao, Wu Jian, Chai Qingshan, Luo Yang, Xu Ying, Deng Tai’a, Xuan Yuan Qing Feng.
All had gathered.
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