The light rain gradually ceased as the sun climbed higher. Xu Fengnian began his ascent up the mountain, passing by the Zhenlong Temple, the Lady’s Slope, and the Yellow Monkey Ridge. After crossing the Tiger Leap Ridge and reaching the Thunder God’s Gully, he had already traversed half the mountain path. At the Thunder God’s Gully, Xu Fengnian spotted several groups of pilgrims, most of them resting on the rocks by the stream, nibbling on the snacks they had brought along. The muddy mountain path was particularly draining, and among the groups, the pampered young masters and ladies appeared utterly exhausted. Several young women were gently massaging their calves, complaining bitterly to their companions about how the scenery of this sacred path fell far short of Wudang Mountain’s reputation. They grumbled that the shabby, cramped Taoist temples they had passed earlier were hardly fit to house celestial beings, and the so-called mountain immortals lacked any trace of transcendent grace. As for the breathtaking images of Wudang’s peaks resembling lotus petals and bamboo shoots, they hadn’t caught even a glimpse. The scenery along their journey couldn’t exactly be called barren or harsh, but it was far from the idyllic, picturesque paradise one would expect of a Taoist sacred site.
Xu Fengnian chose a relatively secluded spot by the stream to sit down. Towering ancient trees cast deep, verdant shadows, and though he made no unusual movements, the twin sabers at his waist made him stand out—especially to the locals who recognized the Beiliang saber. Their eyes flickered with complex emotions. In Beiliang, privately carrying a Liang saber was a crime punishable by imprisonment, regardless of one’s background. Thus, Xu Fengnian was naturally assumed to be a military man. This wasn’t surprising, given that the grand Buddhist-Taoist debate at Wudang’s Lotus Peak would undoubtedly prompt Beiliang’s military to station capable personnel to monitor the situation.
Suddenly, Xu Fengnian looked up and saw a familiar pair approaching—Han Gui, the master of Qing Shan Temple, with whom he had once engaged in profound discussions at Xiao Zhu Peak, and his young disciple, Qingxin. Xu Fengnian quickly rose to greet them. He held great respect for this Taoist, who had earned the favor of both former sect masters Wang Chonglou and Hong Xianxiang. Han Gui was a true mountain ascetic, devoted to both spiritual cultivation and self-refinement. Given Xu Fengnian’s status as a prince, it would have been appropriate for senior Taoists like Chen Yao or Yu Xingrui to personally receive him at the mountain’s base. Yet, the task had been entrusted to Han Gui, a generation younger. This was precisely Wudang’s unique charm—it never felt like a slight, but rather a thoughtful gesture. Climbing with two elderly Taoists would have been overly formal, leaving little room for meaningful conversation beyond tedious pleasantries.
Han Gui greeted Xu Fengnian with a Taoist salute, tactfully avoiding any mention of his identity. Xu Fengnian returned the gesture with a light fist-and-palm salute. The young but high-ranking disciple Qingxin, disappointed not to see Yu Dilong—his former playmate on the mountain—wore a crestfallen expression.
Han Gui sat beside Xu Fengnian and said with a smile, “The white-robed monk from Liangchan Temple has already ascended via the Southern Divine Path. Meanwhile, Zhao Ningshen, the current Heavenly Master of Longhu Mountain’s Celestial Master Mansion, and Bai Yu, the Qinglian Scholar, are also on their way.”
Xu Fengnian raised an eyebrow. “Zhao Ningshen is actually willing to make the long journey to Beiliang? I have quite the history with this ‘robed minister.’”
Han Gui, who had never left the mountain and remained aloof from worldly affairs, knew nothing of the earth-shattering battle at Spring God Lake. Uninterested in the feud between the young prince and the imperial-robed nobleman, he smoothly changed the subject. “Over a hundred renowned scholars from Huainan and Jiangnan are traveling together and will arrive at dusk to stay overnight.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “My intelligence reports mentioned this. It’s quite the ordeal for these refined scholars to endure half a month of Beiliang’s northwest winds.”
He knew full well that the credit for luring these proud literati to Beiliang lay with three men: Song Dongming, the former deputy chancellor of the imperial court; Yan Song, the seventy-nine-year-old retired official who had brought his family to Wudang to burn incense; and Han Guzi, who had previously led his disciples on a tour of the borderlands. Without their influence, even the sight of scholars rallying to Beiliang’s cause wouldn’t have swayed these privileged men from the fertile lands of the Central Plains.
Suddenly, an anomaly struck! Xu Fengnian was sent skidding across the stream’s surface from one bank to the other in an instant. Yet, despite the ferocious sneak attack, he showed no intention of drawing his saber. The young disciple Qingxin, who had only felt a gust of wind brush past his ears, gaped as a tall, elegantly dressed woman appeared beside him and his master. She was strikingly beautiful but wore an icy expression—far colder than even the look on the elder disciplinarian’s face after accidentally tasting Qingxin’s cooking. Her long, slender eyes narrowed like bamboo leaves.
The nearby pilgrims, a motley crowd, were stunned at first. Soon, the more quick-witted among them began cheering loudly. The ripples from Xu Fengnian’s passage faded, leaving the handsome man and the stunning woman standing on opposite banks, each exuding the aura of a grandmaster. The onlookers, bored from their journey, perked up, eager for a dramatic showdown. Ideally, the two would first announce their sects, titles, and the tragic tale of their feud before engaging in a life-or-death battle. That would make their trip to Wudang truly worthwhile.
Xu Fengnian, who had retreated voluntarily, smiled and asked, “Didn’t you return to Huishan?”
The woman, dressed in plain white instead of her usual purple, replied coldly, “If I wait too long to collect, even you might not be able to repay the debt with interest.”
Some impatient spectators, unimpressed by the unfamiliar young pair, began heckling: “Fight already! Don’t just stand there! Make it good, and we’ll spread your fame across the martial world!”
Others, reckless, chimed in: “Hurry up! Don’t just talk—show us some action!”
Han Gui sighed inwardly, hoping that if Xu Fengnian and the woman did clash, they wouldn’t involve bystanders. He subtly led his disciple toward the crowd, ostensibly seeking shelter but actually shielding others from potential harm.
Self-proclaimed martial experts among the pilgrims began lecturing the uninitiated, explaining the nine tiers of martial prowess, all revolving around the refinement of flesh, bones, qi, and spirit. Only at the second tier could one begin manipulating qi—for instance, a swordsman at this level could barely control his blade from a distance. Observing the handsome young man with twin sabers being forced back across the stream without even wetting his calves, they concluded he must be at least fourth-tier, possibly third—a remarkable talent for his age in any region.
Xu Fengnian suddenly grinned. “If you want to fight, fine. But first, let’s make a small deal. Help me find someone, and then you can pick the time and place. The outcome will be yours to decide.”
She hesitated briefly before nodding.
Xu Fengnian asked curiously, “Do you really want that title so badly?”
He knew all too well that, despite her extraordinary encounters, her innate limitations meant the Great Heavenly Phenomena realm was her absolute peak. Her path had been fraught with peril—first forcibly absorbing others’ qi through forbidden techniques to barely reach the first tier. Had he not used the imperial jade seals from the Listening to the Tides Pavilion to stabilize her chaotic qi, she might have succumbed to deviation or even death. Later, she swiftly ascended through the Finger Mystic and Heavenly Phenomena realms. When Wang Xianzhi gravely wounded her but spared her life, it was another salvation. Even with the gifts from Zhao Huangchao and Liu Songtao, she would have struggled to survive the profound tribulations of the Heavenly Phenomena realm.
Her journey had been tumultuous, each step a gamble—second only to his own. Perhaps that was why Xu Fengnian had always been accommodating toward this fiercely determined woman, whether in Beiliang, the capital, or now at Wudang. Today, he had willingly yielded to her, unlike his treatment of Deng Mao or Yelü Dongchuang.
Strictly speaking, there was no romantic entanglement between them. Xu Fengnian might have pitied her shared struggles, while she was driven by her own unresolved grudges. This made the two fastest-rising martial artists in Liyang seem inextricably linked.
Though Xu Fengnian had long known of her relentless competitiveness, he couldn’t fathom why, as the first female martial alliance leader in centuries, she still sought the elusive title of “world’s strongest.”
The anticlimactic spectacle disappointed the onlookers. Nothing was worse than raised hopes dashed. Many impatient martial artists began jeering openly or muttering insults under their breath.
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng, who had long abandoned her signature purple robes, cast a sidelong glance at the noisy crowd. That single look silenced them instantly. Xu Fengnian nearly laughed aloud, recalling his own days as a wandering spectator, gaping at lofty young heroes and fairies.
Then, under the guidance of Han Gui and Qingxin, Xu Fengnian and Xuan Yuan Qingfeng resumed their ascent, passing the Eyebrow Ridge and the Dragon’s Descent Slope before reaching Wudang’s main peak, the Great Lotus Peak. Xuan Yuan Qingfeng remained silent until they arrived at the base.
Finally, she spoke: “Li Chunqiang’s Twin Azure Serpents, Deng Tai’a’s Reversed Taia, Gu Jiantang’s Inch Thunder, Song Nianqing’s final sword technique before his death, Huang Zhentu’s Ninth Sword—Six Thousand Miles, Huang Qing’s Sixteen Contemplations of the Buddha, Liu Haoshi’s Thunder Pool… Before we reach the summit, explain each one to me.”
Seeing Xu Fengnian frown, she added coldly, “If there’s any move you’d rather not disclose, you can substitute it with something comparable… or one of your own creations.”
Qingxin’s eyes widened at the list. This sister’s appetite was terrifying.
Xu Fengnian asked gravely, “Are you trying to synthesize the strengths of all schools? Are you truly unwilling to give up on the Land God realm? Didn’t Zhao Huangchao warn you? Your situation resembles my brother Huang Man’er’s. You’ve narrowly escaped the perils of the Finger Mystic and Heavenly Phenomena realms. If you stubbornly pursue the Land God realm, aren’t you afraid your brilliance will be fleeting?”
Xuan Yuan Qingfeng replied indifferently, “That’s my concern.”
She had never been a likable woman.
Xu Fengnian smiled. “Fine. I can’t teach you Li Chunqiang’s Twin Azure Serpents—I’m not even qualified to do so. Nor can I impart Deng Tai’a’s Reversed Sword. As for Old Huang’s Ninth Sword, forget it. But Gu Jiantang’s Inch Thunder, Song Ningshen’s Walking Sword, and Liu Haoshi’s Thunder Pool are no problem. Huang Qing’s Sixteen Contemplations won’t be hard either. Beyond that, I’ll explain Tuoba Pusa’s unique qi circulation method, as well as the trump cards of Fifth He of the Tipping Mountain and Murong Baoding. If you learn quickly, I’ve got plenty more to share.”
Now it was Xuan Yuan Qingfeng’s turn to be astonished. She stared at him as if to say, *I was bluffing, but you’re not even haggling?*
Xu Fengnian smiled. “I’ll teach you everything. But in return, promise me this: someday, take one or more disciples and pass it all on. Don’t let these martial legacies die out.”
As the four continued upward, Han Gui deliberately walked ahead with Qingxin, leaving the two behind. True to his word, Xu Fengnian explained the essence of the world’s finest martial techniques in exhaustive detail. Xuan Yuan Qingfeng absorbed every word, occasionally interrupting to demand clarification or pausing to digest a particularly profound point. On this stretch of the mountain path, Xu Fengnian was the erudite teacher, and she the diligent student.
Near the summit, at the White Dragon’s Back, Han Gui turned to see the pair halt. What followed left the likely future Wudang sect master speechless: Xu Fengnian gave Xuan Yuan Qingfeng a light kick on the backside before she could react. Enraged, she unleashed a murderous aura that engulfed the entire ridge. But after Xu Fengnian murmured something, she froze, then simply turned and walked away.
Qingxin was awestruck. *If I ever venture into the martial world, I want to be half as impressive as the Prince of Beiliang!*
As the three resumed their climb, even Han Gui couldn’t resist asking, “Your Highness, you’ve known that woman for a long time?”
Xu Fengnian nodded gently. “An old rival. And that kick… was fulfilling someone else’s dream.”
The young Taoist, recalling the icy beauty’s haughty demeanor, grinned. “Your Highness, that kick was magnificent! I loved it!”
Han Gui rubbed his temples, exasperated.
From afar came a cold snort.
Qingxin shuddered, goosebumps rising.
Xu Fengnian ruffled the boy’s hair, grinning. “You’re doomed. Don’t set foot in the martial world for twenty years.”
The young Taoist asked timidly, “Is… is she really that strong?”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “A woman who aims to be the next Wang Xianzhi—what do you think?”
Qingxin grimaced. “No wonder Little Martial Uncle always says women outside the mountain are tigers!”
Just then, a white-robed monk descended from the summit, sleeves billowing, looking ready to fight Xu Fengnian to the death.
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