Chapter 774: Take It Slowly

The city of Snow Lotus was teeming with brothels clustered together, their towering structures stretching endlessly, their layered eaves stacked in a manner that exuded an imperial grandeur reminiscent of the royal palace. Among them, the Snow Lotus Tower stood tallest, its soaring eaves reaching eight stories high—each step upward akin to ascending to the heavens, a paradise of pleasure. This was the origin of the city’s moniker, the “Sleepless City.” Even at dawn, the wide main street remained lively, with disheveled patrons emerging from the brothels, arms entwined with alluring women. If they happened upon a “brother-in-arms” from a shared bed, the men would exchange knowing smiles, their unspoken camaraderie thick in the air.

Xu Fengnian had a Fushui Fang death warrior lead the way ahead. As he walked down the street, thick with the scent of rouge and powder, exhausted courtesans who should have been returning to their chambers for rest instead cast flirtatious glances his way. The bolder ones even teased the unfamiliar yet handsome young man with bawdy banter. The street was long, and as Xu Fengnian strode forward with his saber, the sounds of exclamations, shouts, and laughter drew the attention of many women who had just retired to bed but not yet fallen asleep. They leaned out of their windows, resting on the railings, smiling at the dashing young nobleman. Someone started the bidding—”Young master, I’ll pay you twenty taels of silver to come to me!”—and soon, others raised the offer to thirty. The second-tier Fushui Fang spy in the Snow Lotus Tower, the only one besides Madam Song who knew Xu Fengnian’s true identity, broke into a cold sweat but also felt a surge of pride. He wondered—if the Northern Barbarians had a young empress on the throne, would the war between Liang and Mang even be necessary?

Xu Fengnian dodged the haphazard barrage of fruits, scarves, and undergarments thrown his way, feeling somewhat helpless. It occurred to him that he hadn’t visited a brothel since parting ways with the woman who carried the white cat, Wu Meiniang. Before that, when he used to roam with Li Hanlin, Yan Chiji, and Kong Wuchi, scenes like this were common. But back then, the pleasure dens of Liangzhou and Lingzhou knew his background—they were more interested in his title as the heir of the Northern Liang and the silver in his pockets. The Snow Lotus Tower stood apart from the other brothels lining the street, occupying the very end like a monarch facing north with ministers at his sides. The unusual commotion on the street had drawn the attention of the Snow Lotus Tower, and by the time Xu Fengnian reached its entrance, curious women peered from the windows of the lower six floors. However, the strict rules of the establishment kept them from joining the raucous spectacle, especially when they saw the burly man standing at the foot of the stairs, poised to welcome a distinguished guest.

Xu Fengnian paid little mind to this harmless diversion. Among the four great grandmasters, Tuoba Pusa had already confirmed his retreat north, Deng Tai’e was never an enemy, and Cao Changqing was in Guangling. Who in the world would dare—or even be capable—of assassinating him now?

Madam Song did not make a grand show of descending to greet him, opting for discretion instead. Xu Fengnian ascended directly to the top floor, where Madam Song and the newly crowned courtesan Yu Qingling stood breathlessly outside an elegant chamber. Madam Song opened the door, and Xu Fengnian stepped inside the antique-adorned room, followed quietly by the two women. The burly man swiftly closed the door behind them, standing guard outside like a door god.

Once Xu Fengnian took a seat, Yu Qingling began brewing tea without needing instruction, the tea set already prepared on the table. At Xu Fengnian’s glance, Madam Song also sat down, softly inquiring if he would like breakfast. He shook his head and asked, “Have Shao Mu and the two children been settled?”

Madam Song reported, “Everything is arranged. As per your orders, the Snow Lotus Tower’s overt and covert forces have mobilized. By tonight at the latest, we will secure the snow lotus from Liu Huaixi’s residence.”

Yu Qingling’s fluid tea-brewing faltered slightly, though Madam Song’s expression remained unreadable, her eyes narrowing for just an instant. Xu Fengnian waved his hand. “Cancel the mission. It’s unnecessary now.”

Madam Song nodded without a trace of doubt.

Xu Fengnian said softly, “I’ll rest here for a day. Carry on as usual—no need for special arrangements.”

Madam Song hesitated but quickly suppressed her thoughts, bowing apologetically. “This servant overstepped.”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “Speak freely. I just fought Tuoba Pusa again—he chased me all the way to Snow Lotus City. Still no victor. I imagine Li Mibi is pounding his chest in frustration. The Northern Mang’s Spiderweb paid a heavy price for this ambush.”

Yu Qingling froze as if struck by lightning.

Tuoba Pusa, the Northern Mang’s god of war, and Li Mibi, the progenitor of spies—both were terrifying figures who stood far beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Xu Fengnian apologized, “Once I entered the Snow Lotus Tower, your identities will soon be exposed to prying eyes. Among the factions in Snow Lotus City, the only real threat is Western Shu. But rest assured—Western Shu is too preoccupied with its own troubles, their intelligence network has always been weak, and I’ll dispatch a group of Fushui Fang death warriors here. Their leader will likely be Fan Xiaochai. If necessary, the finger-pointing swordmaster Mi Fengjie will accompany them. Snow Lotus City cannot be abandoned yet—I need the Snow Lotus Tower’s advantage to monitor the situations in Western Shu and Southern Zhao. In the future, I may ask you to venture into Southern Zhao to contact certain people.”

Madam Song smiled warmly. “It is the Snow Lotus Tower’s greatest honor to serve the Cool Mountain and Fushui Fang. We would gladly die for the cause.”

In Yu Qingling’s peripheral vision, Madam Song’s radiant smile was a stark contrast to her usual cold demeanor. Since Yu Qingling had settled in the Snow Lotus Tower as a child, Madam Song had always been stern and calculating, even when dealing with the courtesans. This was the first time Yu Qingling had seen her smile so genuinely, as if a painting had come to life.

Yu Qingling steadied herself and handed the young nobleman a cup of tea made from the finest leaves of the Heavenly Mother Peak in Southern Zhao. As he reached for the cup, she stole a fleeting glance. She wasn’t foolish—if merely being received with such reverence by Madam Song was noteworthy, then the hidden leaders of the Fushui Fang could command the same respect. But to speak of battling Tuoba Pusa as if victory or death were within reach? Only one man in all of Northern Liang held such power—Xu Fengnian, the King of Liang. And he was so young.

Xu Fengnian ignored Yu Qingling’s subtle scrutiny, leisurely sipping his tea while casually discussing the local customs of Snow Lotus City with Madam Song. After weeks of life-and-death struggles with Tuoba Pusa, he needed updates on the war and the shifting tides of the world. However, the Snow Lotus Tower, located in a remote border city, couldn’t compare to the intelligence networks in Western Shu and Southern Zhao. It ranked only mid-tier among the Fushui Fang’s seventy-two branches. Yet Madam Song’s unique status, earning even Chu Lushan’s respect, and Xu Fengnian’s journey from the northern to southern borders with Tuoba Pusa had prompted the Fushui Fang to relay additional intelligence to the Snow Lotus Tower, ensuring Xu Fengnian would be informed immediately upon arrival.

But all Xu Fengnian learned was that Liu Jinu’s Tiger Head City still held firm, a massive new city north of Liangzhou—larger than Tiger Head—was about to break ground, and in the Qing Cang region of Liu Province, the Dragon-Elephant Army had clashed with Liu Gui’s forces in a probing skirmish, with losses on both sides within acceptable limits. Additionally, after the fall of the Bow and Crane Cities in the Gourd Pass to the Northern Mang’s vanguard general Zhong Tan, the Radiant Light City had also succumbed to their relentless assault. The Tiger Pounce Battalion—a once-glorious infantry unit of You Province, its name personally approved by Xu Fengnian and ordered by Chu Lushan—had been wiped out. From its commander Xun Shu to the twenty-three captains, forty-seven lieutenants, and all 2,726 soldiers, not a single man survived.

For some reason, as Yu Qingling listened to Madam Song’s concise report, she seemed to hear the thunderous drums of war, the cries of battle, the smoke of beacons, and the fields of corpses. Faces blurred with blood, Northern Liang sabers drawn—and before she knew it, tears streamed down her face. Yet the young king, reclining in his chair and sipping tea, remained expressionless, utterly unmoved.

Yu Qingling, a lowly pawn who had barely risen to the second tier of the Fushui Fang, suddenly burned with anger. She mustered her courage and glared at the man who could openly wear the python robe—her eyes filled with accusation and resentment. The border soldiers were dying for him, for his family—couldn’t he show even a hint of sorrow? Did their deaths mean nothing simply because they were part of the Northern Liang’s three hundred thousand cavalry? Not even worth a frown?

Madam Song said softly, “Since the war began beyond the passes of You and Liang Provinces, not a single Northern Liang border soldier has surrendered.”

Xu Fengnian nodded. “Before the Northern Mang army crosses the passes, even if our men wanted to surrender, the Northern Mang wouldn’t accept them.”

Yu Qingling, who should have refilled his tea, slammed the teapot down in frustration. With a bitter smile, she prepared to defy all propriety and demand whether this young king even had a heart.

But before she could speak, Madam Song, ever sharp-eyed, snapped, “Silence! Yu Qingling, get out!”

Yu Qingling rose in a daze and stumbled out of the chamber.

Madam Song sighed. “Your Highness, Yu Qingling is just a child. She’s lived her whole life in the sheltered Snow Lotus City—she understands nothing. Please do not hold it against her.”

Xu Fengnian bent to lift the teapot, pouring tea for himself and Madam Song. “It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head.

Madam Song spoke softly, “The Snow Lotus Tower is actually two buildings connected by an aerial bridge—hence its reputation as the ‘Floating Pavilion.’ The front tower is for banquets and tea, where guests typically come at night and leave by morning. The rear tower is for lodging, reserved only for trusted regulars. But I’m unsure if Your Highness would prefer to stay in the rear tower or in a quiet residence nearby—just half a cup of tea’s walk away.”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “No need for trouble. I’ll stay in the rear tower.”

Madam Song hesitated. Though the rear tower had rooms fit for nobility, it was also frequented by wealthy patrons who lingered for weeks, their rowdy antics creating a less-than-refined atmosphere. She had hoped the young king would choose a secluded courtyard instead. But since he had spoken, she wouldn’t overstep.

She led Xu Fengnian down to the sixth floor, crossing the ingeniously designed bridge to the rear tower. She personally handled all arrangements, from preparing fresh clothes for his bath to filling the tub herself. As for offering her own company—she dared not entertain such presumptions. No matter how beautiful or sought-after a courtesan might be, in the end, they were all just painted flowers, sullied by the mire of their trade. Who could truly claim to be unstained?

After seeing Madam Song to the door, the disheveled Xu Fengnian removed his Liang saber and bathed, shaved, and trimmed his nails, finally feeling refreshed. Sitting at the table, he summoned the remnants of the flying swords once gifted by Deng Tai’e—Xuanjia, Qingmei, Zhuma, Zhaolu, Chunshui, Taohua, Emei, Zhuque, Huangtong, Pifu, Jinlv, and Tai’e. Originally twelve swords embodying twelve sword intents, only four remained after countless battles: Qingmei, Zhuma, Huangtong, and Pifu. The world often lamented how places stayed the same while people changed—but for Xu Fengnian, it was the opposite. The people remained, but the things were lost.

Leaving the four swords resting on the table, he closed his eyes and began meditating. Taoism revered the art of breath control, believing that a newborn’s first cry expelled the turbid energy of past lives. Children cried often because they harbored unrefined energy, embodying the “natural innocence” of untainted vitality. Adults, however, learned to suppress their emotions, prizing stoicism—yet in Taoist eyes, this was a betrayal of nature.

Xu Fengnian drifted between wakefulness and sleep, lost in thought.

Breathing in and out, the mind gathers and releases. In one moment, the ears catch the myriad sounds within and beyond the Snow Lotus Tower; in the next, the world falls into utter silence.

Xu Feng Nian recalled the blind veteran Xu Yongguan of the Fish Drum Battalion, the six hundred salutes on the road to the capital.

He recalled the Youzhou cavalry who fought from Ji North all the way to the Hulu Pass.

He recalled many people and many things.

※※※

Time slipped away unnoticed until Xu Feng Nian was roused by the faint sound of footsteps outside his door. He suddenly realized that the lanterns outside the window had already been lit. Withdrawing his flying sword, he walked to the window and stood there, lost in thought.

After this battle, Xu Feng Nian was confident that it wouldn’t be long before he could truly stand toe-to-toe with Tuoba Pusa, and even challenge Deng Tai’a, the deadliest among the Four Great Grandmasters. As for Cao Changqing, who was most renowned among ordinary folk but ranked last among the Four, Xu Feng Nian knew better. After all, Tuoba Pusa was universally acknowledged as the eternal second, surpassed only by Wang Xianzhi. Deng Tai’a had also ascended to new heights after borrowing Li Chun’gang’s sword and journeying overseas in search of immortals. Riding the momentum of his victory over Wang Xianzhi, Xu Feng Nian’s reputation in the martial world was at its zenith.

Only Cao Changqing had not crossed blades with another Grandmaster of equal standing in years. Even when he briefly appeared in Tai’an City with Jiang Ni, no true life-or-death battle ensued—just a few exchanges with Gu Jiantang and Liu Haoshi. Compared to Xu Feng Nian, Deng Tai’a, and Tuoba Pusa, he was inevitably underestimated. But Xu Feng Nian knew the truth: after the Confucian Sage Cao Changqing changed his path, he had not only the highest realm among the four but also the greatest combat prowess. At this point, Cao Changqing was likely no less formidable than Xu Feng Nian at his peak, when his Heavenly Physique still remained intact.

Outside the room, Madam Song, accompanied by the elite assassin from the Fushui Division whose name Xu Feng Nian still didn’t know, knocked lightly on the door. Upon receiving permission, she entered and said, “Liu Huaixi has come alone to visit the Snow Lotus Tower. I dared not make a decision without consulting you, so I had to disturb your rest, Your Highness.”

Xu Feng Nian chuckled. “Let’s go meet him together. I’m quite curious about this legendary figure who dominates a region. Madam Song, just tell him I’m a newly hired guard for the Snow Lotus Tower.”

Madam Song suppressed a smirk. Xu Feng Nian teased, “Well, even if the Snow Lotus Tower is wealthy, I doubt they could afford a fighter like me.”

The three walked down the corridor adorned with exquisite Shu silk carpets. As they turned a corner, they passed a room where guests were just stepping out—four men and one woman. The woman wore a violet robe, with a violet-sheathed sword and an elegant purple bamboo flute at her waist. Her beauty was striking, but her cold demeanor kept others at bay. The three young men each carried themselves differently. The leader was lively and handsome, skipping over the threshold with his hands clasped behind his back, chatting animatedly with a tall, sword-browed man. Another had the refined air of a noble scion, his face as fair as jade, dressed in luxurious brocade. He whispered to an elderly swordsman with graying temples.

The two groups nearly collided, but a simple step back from either side would have allowed them to pass without incident. However, the Fushui assassin leading Xu Feng Nian and Madam Song showed no intention of stopping. The young “lordling,” spoiled by his elders, lacked the courtesy to yield. He stood in the center of the corridor, swaying his shoulders and smirking.

Madam Song frowned slightly. Xu Feng Nian shook his head imperceptibly, and she understood, calmly saying to the Snow Lotus Tower’s top enforcer, who was ready to barge past, “Meng Li, let it go.”

At the name “Meng Li,” only the old swordsman’s eyelids twitched. The others, newcomers to Snow Lotus City, had never heard of him. Though none were reckless fools, the violet-robed woman and the siblings came from prominent sects in the southwest, while the tall, rough-looking youth was a rising star among the common folk. Deep down, they looked down on this border town.

But the old swordsman had heard of Meng Li. Though rarely seen in action, it was said he had once fought a desperate battle against several of Liu Huaixi’s top fighters—outnumbered yet victorious, with most of his foes vanishing from the martial world afterward. Liu Huaixi was a recognized second-tier Grandmaster, so Meng Li’s survival suggested either the Snow Lotus Tower was untouchable or Meng Li himself was strong enough to challenge Liu Huaixi. Though the old man considered himself a master swordsman, he knew better than to provoke a local serpent on its own turf.

Just as he prepared to step back and avoid trouble, the cross-dressing young woman sneered, “Let it go? How arrogant! Who do you think you are? What if we don’t?”

The violet-robed woman, who had arrived in Snow Lotus City earlier, sighed softly and whispered to the noble youth who resembled the girl, “That woman is the Snow Lotus Tower’s proprietor—Madam Song, as she’s known here.”

The noble youth nodded. Born into a prestigious family, he had no desire to stir trouble and called out to the girl, “Come back, you brat.”

Reluctantly, she retreated, though her glare remained fierce. But then the rough-looking youth’s eyes burned with admiration as he stared at Madam Song, whose skin was still as smooth as a maiden’s. “So you’re Madam Song of Snow Lotus City—the woman who once humiliated the deputy general of Yizhou in Western Shu?”

He grinned, flashing white teeth. “Madam, I’m Zhang Wuhou, the one who pissed in front of the Nan Zhao Prince’s mansion. I’ve admired you for a long time!”

Madam Song showed no anger at his insolence, merely smiling. “Noted.”

The girl, furious at his fickleness, scoffed and glared even more provocatively at Madam Song. “Zhang Wuhou, what’s there to admire? She’s old enough to be your mother!”

Zhang Wuhou, infamous in the southwest for his audacity, chuckled. “Little girl, you wouldn’t understand Madam Song’s charms.”

The old swordsman grew uneasy, and the noble youth sighed helplessly—though none of them feared angering the entire city.

Xu Feng Nian hadn’t expected such brazenness. Unwilling to let them insult Madam Song further, he said lightly, “When traveling, it’s best to speak politely—or at least coherently.”

Turning to Madam Song, he added, “Do people nowadays walk around begging to be punched? I never had that kind of courage.”

Madam Song smiled. “Perhaps these are disciples of Wang Xianzhi or Cao Changqing, or children of Liyang’s princes and lords. That would explain their boldness.”

Xu Feng Nian laughed. “Even so, it’s still inexcusable.”

Madam Song nodded, playing along. “You’re right. It really is.”

The girl flushed with rage. “Shameless dogs! You won’t pass today! Who cares if you’re Madam Song? You’re just an aging whore!”

Madam Song remained unshaken. In twelve years, she had turned the Snow Lotus Tower into the largest brothel in the southern desert, with connections so deep even Liu Huaixi had to tolerate her presence. A child’s taunts couldn’t break her composure. Had the North Liang King not been beside her, she could have easily left the girl scarred for life with her words.

Meng Li, ever disciplined, kept his murderous intent in check, though a savage grin tugged at his lips.

Xu Feng Nian sighed. “Enough.”

The girl scoffed. “Old woman’s boy toy, who do you think you are? You dare speak to me?”

Zhang Wuhou, ever fearless and with hidden backing, grinned. “Not happy? How about a spar? If you win, we’ll step aside. If I win, Madam Song is mine. Deal?”

Xu Feng Nian smiled. “A spar? Sure.” He stepped forward slowly. Meng Li quickly retreated, his eyes blazing with excitement. How many could witness one of the Four Great Grandmasters in action?

In the blink of an eye, before the girl could react, a thunderous crash echoed. She turned to see Zhang Wuhou—now replaced by the “mediocre-looking” young man with the infuriating smile—sent flying by a single light tap to his forehead. He smashed through walls, tumbling from the eighth floor of the Snow Lotus Tower.

The old swordsman, the most skilled among them, hadn’t even seen Xu Feng Nian move. Instinctively, he reached for his sword.

Xu Feng Nian stood beside the girl, observing the two gaping holes in the wall. After a pause, he turned to the horrified southwestern swordmaster and asked, “What’s wrong? Can’t even draw your sword?”

Only then did the others notice their revered master struggling to pull his blade, as if it weighed a mountain.

The scene was absurdly comical.

What seemed like a petty squabble was, in truth, a clash of hidden agendas. The violet-robed woman sought fame in the southwest martial world, the noble youth recognized Xu Feng Nian’s old-style Liang saber and sought to expose the Snow Lotus Tower’s ties to North Liang, and the girl, though furious at Zhang Wuhou’s betrayal, found herself drawn to the mysterious stranger.

Xu Feng Nian watched the humiliated old man kindly. “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

Moments later, after futile struggles, the old man nearly gave up—until his sword inexplicably slid halfway out of its sheath. The onlookers sighed in relief.

Then the sword slammed back in.

Out, then in.

Again and again.

The old man wished for death.

Madam Song suddenly burst into laughter, more carefree than she had been in over a decade.