First, Yuan Zuozong took the lead, then Wang Xiaoping followed to reinforce. The group from Zhulu Mountain were all seasoned cultivators who had long lost the desire to compete. Sensing the unfavorable situation, the beautiful woman quickly recalled her pair of colorful butterflies. The butterflies swirled around her before merging into one and retreating into her sleeve. The world recognizes the Wudang Shen Tu Sword and Gu Jiantang’s Nanhua Blade as the finest talismanic weapons under heaven. However, Gu Jiantang resides in the heart of the imperial court, an unreachable statue for the martial world. Wang Xiaoping, on the other hand, was particularly feared by those like the woman who practiced forbidden arts. To attempt sorcery before Wang Xiaoping was tantamount to seeking death. Wang’s talisman sword was renowned as capable of breaking all techniques with a single strike.
Yet Lu Linggui, one of the most formidable figures in the Zhulu Mountain sect, and others of similar standing, did not show fear upon seeing the Wudang Sword Obsession in person. Lu remained as calm as a statue, speaking softly, “Zhulu Mountain has gathered here at the foot of Longwei Slope solely to welcome the Young Master into the mountains for his enfeoffment. We have no intention of provoking conflict. The large number of people is merely to demonstrate our sincerity, for fear that the Young Master might consider Zhulu Mountain’s welcome insufficient…”
Lu Linggui, never eloquent, was carefully choosing his words when Hu Chunya’s clear laughter interrupted him. This time, even Zhou Qinhua and others did not scold the girl excessively, for the scene before them was simply too unexpected. Behind Lu Linggui, nearly twenty riders reacted with whispers and murmurs.
Xu Fengnian, half-amused and half-exasperated, watched the Wudang Daoist arrive in haste and leave just as quickly, leaving everyone aside. Perhaps displeased with Xu’s pretense of power, Xu Fengnian casually wiped his face with his sleeve, a crude gesture that caused the woman to tremble with laughter. The young man in her arms, with his gentle and charming features, harbored a deep resentment toward Xu Fengnian for stealing the spotlight.
Xu Fengnian was in an unusually good mood that day and did not mind the interruption from these martial sect members. He said, “If Zhulu Mountain truly wishes to show sincerity, let your sect leader come personally to meet me. Otherwise, there is no discussion. Enfeoffment in the mountains? You expect me to accept such an offer?”
The previously arrogant martial sect leaders, accustomed to watching the world from their own peaks, now recalled that this young nobleman would one day inherit the title of Prince of Beiliang. Among the feudal lords of Liyang, who could rival the power of the Prince of Beiliang? Zhulu Mountain had indeed underestimated the situation. Lu Linggui, a man of exceptional patience, did not object but instead allowed a faint, strange smile to appear on his lips. “I was fortunate to see the sect leader once within the mountain. He mentioned having some connection with the Young Master. Therefore, I dare not act rashly. I shall return to the mountain and convey the Young Master’s request to the sect leader.”
Xu Fengnian asked with a smile, “From your tone, does your sect leader have a particularly formidable background?”
Lu Linggui replied calmly, “I dare not speculate, but I can share one fact. From the moment the sect leader entered the mountain to his ascent to its peak, he slaughtered the previous two kings and four dukes in half a day. Zhulu Mountain now has four first-rank experts within its ranks, half of them in the Xuan realm and half in the Gang realm. Besides myself, who came to greet the Young Master, there are two other groups welcoming guests into the mountain. The sect leader himself has gone to meet Cao Changqing of the Xichu, seeking him to serve as the chief guest of Zhulu Mountain.”
Xu Fengnian stared in astonishment, then teased, “Then why not make Wang Xianzhi his deputy and invite Deng Tai’a as a guest? Then you could swallow up the Wujia Sword Tomb and dominate the martial world. Now that would be truly impressive.”
Lu Linggui replied solemnly, “I will relay the Young Master’s suggestion to the sect leader.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled like a young girl, signaling the end of the conversation. Lu Linggui, decisive in his actions, wasted no further words, turned his horse, and departed with his men. The beautiful woman in light attire could not resist casting a final glance back. Xu Fengnian stood in thought, not overly concerned about Zhulu Mountain’s formidable figures but wary of their mysterious leader, whose presence was like a dragon glimpsed through mist. Though Xu had outwardly dismissed Lu Linggui’s words, inwardly he remained vigilant. Zhulu Mountain had stood unshaken for eight hundred years. Sixty years ago, it endured a calamity that was not even the worst in its history. A hundred years ago, nearly every sword immortal, except for the unparalleled Lüzu of the past five hundred years, had once flown their swords to Zhulu Mountain and wreaked havoc. Every dynasty had been founded by brilliant rulers, and their successors were often no less capable. But after them, decline was inevitable. Occasionally, a ruler would rise to restore prosperity, but it merely prolonged the dynasty’s life. Yet Zhulu Mountain’s sect leaders, up to the last, Liu Songtao, totaled nine, each a martial overlord second only to Wang Xianzhi. The sect leader’s seat would remain empty for decades rather than be given to a mediocre person. Whoever became the sect leader, no matter how unknown outside Zhulu Mountain, would always be an extraordinary figure. Liu Songtao, after falling into madness, left Zhulu Mountain and killed over ten thousand people, causing unrest in both the martial world and the imperial court. Despite desperate attempts to stop him, nothing could be done. In the Spring and Autumn Nine Kingdoms, Liu Songtao killed two emperors—one was torn apart on his throne, and the other mysteriously lost his head while in bed. Countless ministers and generals across the Central Plains met the same fate. It was said that eventually, the Dragon and Tiger Mountain’s Tian Shi of that era, Zhao Gusou, personally went to the Dragon Pool, sacrificing six golden lotus flowers of fortune, and used heavenly power to inscribe a nine-character prophecy, sealing Liu Songtao with thunder from thousands of miles away. Among Liu Songtao’s contemporaries, whether sword immortals or scholars of the three teachings, none achieved immortality. Perhaps Heaven itself was angered by their inaction, closing the Heavenly Gate for twenty years.
Xu Fengnian smiled bitterly. A few years ago, he would have loved to hear stories of people like Liu Songtao. But after rolling in the mud a few times, he no longer envied them. Flying around all day, surviving hundreds of sword strikes—what kind of martial artist was that? They were all immortals. Xu Fengnian shook his head lightly, dispelling his scattered thoughts, no longer dwelling on Zhulu Mountain or its sect leader. He raised his hand from his sleeve and gestured forward. Gu Dazu, who had recently requested the position of Beiliang infantry commander, followed closely behind. Walking side by side, the once-morose old man smiled gently, saying, “Your Highness, I previously asked shamelessly for a difficult position. Please don’t take it seriously. I know what Beiliang’s cavalry lacks and what it needs. I won’t burden you further.”
Xu Fengnian did not pretend to be more capable than he was and nodded, “Earlier, I forced the Grand General Zhong Hongwu into retirement, and my methods were not honorable. Removing Yan Wenluan will not be easy, even for Xu Shao himself, let alone me. However, General Gu, rest assured, the promise of the infantry deputy commander is yours.”
Gu Dazu smiled and asked, “I have a reputation in naval warfare. As infantry deputy commander, are you not afraid that Yan Wenluan will push me aside, causing you embarrassment?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head, “Superficially, Yan Wenluan has the advantage in timing, terrain, and support. But when I first traveled the martial world, I saw a saying on a tavern wall that resonated: ‘Standing high does not mean sitting long. Do not block the path for those who come after.’ Yan Wenluan has cultivated his faction for twenty years, creating a stagnant pool. Though he appears to dominate the Beiliang infantry, he is not truly unshakable. In politics, local powers have their advantages, but newcomers also have their strengths. If Yan Wenluan behaves too poorly and insists on quarreling with a young noble like me, I will seize the opportunity to let him retire with Zhong Hongwu.”
Gu Dazu glanced back at Huang Chang’s carriage and sighed, “If Huang Chang were a foolish loyalist, he would not have come to Beiliang.”
Xu Fengnian smiled, “Among the descendants of Beiliang generals, few have sent their children to serve on the borders, except for some minor families. For example, the cavalry commander Zhong Hongwu did not allow Zhong Chenxin to join the military, partly to preserve his family line and partly because he foresaw the deep-rooted problems of military governance in Beiliang, which would eventually require civilian officials to take over. However, in recent years, the imperial court has been actively undermining Beiliang, luring away talents like Yan Jixi becoming royal relatives, Jin Lanting gaining favor, and the great scholar Yao Bai Feng entering the capital. This has caused many northern scholars to rush to the capital. As for me, it doesn’t matter how much real talent Huang Chang possesses; the key is that he, as a clean official, is willing to serve in Beiliang. The court has been hostile to Beiliang for twenty years. Now it’s time for a change in fortune.”
Gu Dazu laughed heartily, his previous doubts dissipating in an instant. The white-haired youth, so young yet so broad-minded, made him feel that he, an old man, need not be overly cautious.
Perhaps it was a case of adversity turning into fortune. After the ambush at Longwei Slope and the martial sect’s blockade below, the group traveled unusually peacefully and steadily toward Caishi Mountain. Before entering the mountain, there was a roadside wine stall. The old wine seller, upon seeing Hu Chunya, treated her like his own daughter, refusing payment and offering fine wine to the entire group. Hu Chunya did not put on airs, personally pouring wine for Huang Chang, Xu Zhan, Zhou Qinhua, and others. As for Xu Fengnian and his companions, who frightened and startled her, she simply ignored them. Xu Fengnian had never liked this temperamental girl, but he thought to himself that no matter how annoying a woman might be, there was always a moment when her heart softened. Hu Chunya would probably never know that her most endearing moments were not when she was dressed in red for her wedding or when she was full of vigor and spirit on the martial path, but rather in these small, insignificant smiles and frowns.
Xu Fengnian sat drinking wine. Gu Dazu, after finishing a bowl, raised his head to look at the mountain, its greenery revealed after the snow had melted. He declared loudly, “Heaven does not govern, earth does not govern, but wine does.”
Huang Chang drank his wine in one go, wiped his mouth, and laughed, “Whether it thrives or falls, it’s all the same after a drink.”
Xu Fengnian did not join in the merriment but simply smiled and clinked his bowl with Yuan Zuozong, taking a slow sip.
Caishi Mountain, as expected, was far from towns and bustling markets. The first forty li of the mountain path were narrow and difficult to traverse, otherwise, the authorities would have suppressed it long ago. However, the next twenty li brought a sudden openness, with wide stone paths broad enough for three carriages to travel side by side, revealing the immense wealth of Caishi Mountain. The road wound through green hills and clear waters. Hu Chunya was quietly conversing with a high-ranking middle-aged man from the mountain, occasionally glancing back at Xu Fengnian and pointing. The man’s expression was deep, his eyes fierce, clearly holding no good opinion of this unexpected guest. Xu Zhan and Zhou Qinhua naturally did not wish to provoke trouble, but on Caishi Mountain, Hu Chunya was undoubtedly the golden branch and jade leaf. Xu Zhan could offer a few words of caution, but he chose not to. Zhou Qinhua wanted to speak but knew it was inappropriate. The atmosphere on the road became somewhat strange. As the group welcoming Hu Chunya grew larger, dozens of riders galloped toward them, their momentum no less than the soldiers at Longwei Slope. The repeated cries of “Miss” made Hu Chunya swell with pride and self-satisfaction.
Especially when a refined, green-robed swordsman appeared alone on the road, descending the mountain, Hu Chunya’s eyes welled with tears as if she had endured great Grievance. The swordsman, embodying the saying that men at forty are in their prime, grew more charming with age. He wore a long sword with ancient elegance, its tassels swaying gently. Alongside the sword was a prominent wine gourd. The green-robed man bent slightly on his horse, his eyes filled with affection as he patted his daughter’s head, then bowed to the group. Xu Zhan and Zhou Qinhua, as juniors, hurriedly returned the greeting. Caishi Mountain was wealthy and powerful, with many followers. They, as lone wanderers, could not afford to provoke trouble. In the world, friendships were essential, especially for unknown young men traveling the martial path, just like young scholars striving for fame in the literary world. It was all about mutual support. Old martial artists understood this well.
Zhao Hongdan, who had married into Caishi Mountain, knew his daughter’s nature well. He seemed to disbelieve the slanderous words and instead paid special attention to “Xu Qi.” As they ascended the mountain, he deliberately slowed his horse and said warmly, “Chunya doesn’t know better. She owes her safe journey to Xu Young Master’s care. This visit to Caishi Mountain may have its shortcomings, but I hope Xu Young Master will speak freely if anything is lacking. Since we have met, we are all brothers now. Treat Caishi Mountain as your home.”
Xu Fengnian smiled, “Xu Qi has long heard of Caishi Mountain’s fame. Zhao Daxia’s 96 Drunken Sword techniques, which charge into the Bullfighting constellation, are well-known in the martial world. This visit has been somewhat nerve-wracking before entering the mountain, but after meeting Zhao Daxia, I feel much more at ease.”
Zhao Hongdan laughed heartily, repeating several times that the praise was exaggerated.
On the sunny side of the mountain, there were quiet, secluded courtyards and small pavilions nestled among bamboo groves, offering elegant scenery for honored guests of Caishi Mountain. The small buildings were constructed from water bamboo, providing warmth in winter and coolness in summer. The rooms were filled with bamboo-made items—flutes, pipes, beds, tables—some of which were carved by master artisans, exuding an ancient charm. Zhao Hongdan personally ensured the group’s accommodations were well-prepared before taking his daughter, Hu Chunya, up the mountain to meet the true master of Caishi Mountain.
After leaving the building, Xu Fengnian walked along the stone path into the bamboo grove. Wooden fences lined the path, and large red lanterns hung from the bamboo, likely creating a rare and beautiful sight when lit at dusk. As he walked, he arrived at an ancient temple. The sound of spring water trickled nearby. The temple, maintained by the Hu family of Caishi Mountain, was probably not open to outside pilgrims. A plaque above the gate read “Xia Guang Chan Ci.” The couplet on the gate was particularly interesting: “If you do not turn back, who will save you from suffering? If you can change your mind, why would you need my mercy?”
Looking back.
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly, feeling a desire to turn back to his quarters. The Zhu-robed Shadowspirit appeared beside him. After a period of rest, its two faces had mostly recovered, though one arm was missing, making it look even more bizarre and eerie. Since Xu Fengnian had no intention of entering the temple, nor did he wish to return hastily, he walked toward the stream outside the temple, squatting on a large stone and listening to the gentle sound of the stream. Man and Shadowspirit were at peace, forgetting themselves. The Shadowspirit lowered its head, noticing that his boots were covered in mud. It extended a finger to gently remove it. Xu Fengnian laughed, “Don’t bother. It’ll get dirty again when I go back.”
But the Shadowspirit continued diligently with this silent, trivial task.
Behind them, a shrill scream from a child echoed.
Ghost! Ghost!
A group of well-dressed children, their arms carrying bamboo baskets and small hoes for digging winter bamboo shoots, had each made their own harvest in the bamboo grove. Suddenly seeing a red-clothed woman whose face could twist backward, they naturally mistook her for a ghost hiding in the bamboo.
“Don’t be afraid, this is a temple. Let’s all throw stones at the ghost!”
“Yeah, Dad said evil can’t defeat good. Ghosts fear temple chants and reading aloud. Let’s throw stones and recite the Thousand Character Classic at the same time.”
When an older boy spoke up, he hurled his hoe fiercely. The other children followed suit. The children of Caishi Mountain were trained early with medicinal aids to strengthen their bodies, their strength far surpassing that of ordinary children. Seven or eight hoes flew toward the stream. The crying girls, though weaker, also gathered their courage. Their throws were too weak to reach the stream, so they began reciting the Thousand Character Classic, a text memorized by nearly every student in private schools. When the hoes failed to hit their target, the boys bent down to pick up smaller stones. Strangely, whether it was the hoes or the stones, their trajectories were altered, losing accuracy and landing around the pair of ghosts—the white-haired ghost and the red-clothed ghost. The children’s initial fear faded, and their courage grew. Even the timid ones began to laugh and treat the stone-throwing as a game. When the nearby stones were gone, they switched to winter bamboo shoots from their baskets.
Xu Fengnian’s arm was tightly gripped by the Shadowspirit, so he did not turn around.
“Go, call your parents to come and fight the ghost,” a boy commanded.
A little girl disdainfully glanced at the Zhu-robed Shadowspirit, her face full of contempt, saying, “Ugly monster! It really is a ghost!”
This single phrase, “ugly monster,”
Perhaps surpassed all the ruthless methods of Han Diaosi outside Shenwu City.
Xu Fengnian was about to speak when he turned to see that, besides one arm gripping his arm tightly, the other four arms were covering the joyful and compassionate faces. Her fingers were hooked, oozing blood, as if trying to tear off her skin.
He gently lifted his hand, slowly prying her fingers away, looking at the stream, leaning around her shoulder so that her head rested on his.
Her eyes were bleeding.
Four streams of blood tears blurred her two faces.
Xu Fengnian whispered, “Xu Ying, how can you be so beautiful that even outside Shenwu City, before I lent you the Spring and Autumn Sword, I thought, dying with you wouldn’t be so bad.”
Her joyful face was crying, her compassionate face was smiling.
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