When Xu Fengnian opened his eyes, he saw only Deng Ta’a crouching nearby; the demon lord Luo Yang was nowhere to be seen. Xu Fengnian caught sight of a pale, sickly face, yellow as thin parchment, and his heart trembled with shock. Deng Ta’a, who carried an unnamed sword upon his back, gazed toward the ruined cityscape, its walls collapsed and ravines crisscrossing the land, and spoke calmly, “After battling Tuoba Busi, neither victorious nor defeated, I traveled eastward to the ruins of the Nine Swords of the Wu Clan. Along the way, I encountered the Lord of the Hill of Soldiers, the bronze automaton of the Chess and Sword Music Bureau, and several other demon lords, each of whom I fought. As for this Luo Yang, who recently bested Hong Jingyan, I had already sensed her presence from above on my flying sword. This series of battles, begun by Tuoba Busi and ended by Luo Yang, made this journey worthwhile. Your luck, young man, was poor—when she entered the city, she had no intent to kill, but upon sensing my sword qi, she decided to use you as bait to draw me out.”
Xu Fengnian smiled and said, “The Northern Liang seems to have acted rather dishonorably this time.”
Deng Ta’a, the new Sword God without his donkey or peach blossom staff, stood before a deep chasm. “When I see water, I split it; when I see mountains, I carve through them. This path of the sword was taught to me by Li Chun’gang. Even if all nine of the martial experts on the Wulin List were to block my way, I would not take a detour. Such grand truths may seem dull to others, but since you’ve come alone to the Northern Liang, I’m sure you can understand at least a little.”
As if knowing what Xu Fengnian was about to ask, Deng Ta’a smiled warmly and continued, “That one sword from Master Li was both a mountain-opening and sky-parting strike. I pursued the Dao of the sword through a narrow path, while he lent me his sword techniques across ten thousand miles not to force me onto his broad highway, but to show me the scenery and atmosphere along the way. He never wanted me to change my path—that is what made it truly valuable. I once gave you a sword, deliberately withholding the secret of the twelve flying swords. It was not only to let you cultivate and discover the Dao on your own, but also because of my own indecisive nature. If Master Li had done it, he might not have been so hesitant.”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
Deng Ta’a glanced at him, his eyes smiling. “You, however, are straightforward and unpretentious. No wonder Li Chun’gang held you in high regard.”
Xu Fengnian smiled shyly. Apart from Deng Ta’a’s lofty martial status, there was also the unspoken familial connection—this was a very unfamiliar situation for Xu Fengnian, who had rarely interacted with elders as a younger relative. In terms of appearance and demeanor, Deng Ta’a was not particularly striking; middle-aged, with an ordinary smile, he seemed more like a kind, easygoing neighbor, even less refined or imposing than Xu Pu, the longtime wine seller. Especially when his sword remained sheathed, his presence was unassuming, blending into the background like a humble villager. Of course, Xu Fengnian had once imagined Deng Ta’a riding his donkey backward, waving a peach blossom branch, either amidst green mountains and clear rivers or amid a storm of arrows and spears—surely a scene of great cultivation and grace. Unfortunately, he had never seen it in person.
Deng Ta’a examined Xu Fengnian’s aura and asked, “How did you get injured?”
Xu Fengnian replied softly, “I fought off a few hundred cavalrymen and was a bit outmatched.”
Deng Ta’a teased, “You’re just like your father—restless in your youth. To be honest, I used to think Xu Xiao was unworthy of my sister, and I felt sorry for her. But on this trip to the Northern Liang, when I was stopped at the border, Xu Xiao stubbornly caught me and poured me a drink, and my impression of him changed greatly. I still don’t understand why my sister ran off with that big oaf, but I do think she must have been happy with him. After all, he only ever married her, which is rare enough. There’s no need to dwell on whether it was right or wrong. By the way, your Golden Thread Sword has reached near completion through external means, which doesn’t surprise me. But how did you come upon the Morning Dew Sword so effortlessly? Tell me about it.”
Xu Fengnian pointed behind him at the giant palace complex and laughed, “I thought on the roof all night. At dawn, the morning sunlight swept from east to west, shining on me, and suddenly I understood. That was when I realized that each flying sword, once attuned to my spirit, became a secret sword technique.”
Deng Ta’a nodded softly, “One who lacks innate talent cannot be spoken to of the Dao. That’s precisely the point. Your talent is quite impressive.”
Xu Fengnian asked cautiously, “I couldn’t tell—was the outcome between you and Luo Yang clearly decided?”
Deng Ta’a laughed, “Not decisively. Luo Yang had just defeated her senior martial brother Hong Jingyan and was riding the momentum of that victory, while I had fought several exhausting battles in succession. So her eight hundred rain-swords struck me all at once. Right now, my internal organs are not in good shape. But since I’ve reached what the world calls the Earth Immortal realm, I can still endure. As for her, she took only one of my swords, which shattered the pearl at the center of her heart. It was a fair trade—one pearl for one life. Half of it was her own doing, half was unavoidable fate. Perhaps she challenged me precisely to achieve two or even three goals at once. The deeper reasons are complex. If you have the courage, you can explore them yourself.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head firmly, “I’d be lucky if she doesn’t come after me. I have no intention of seeking trouble.”
Deng Ta’a glanced at the sky and sighed softly, “Old Wang Xianzhi has waited sixty years, and none of us have managed to bring him down. Not even Tuoba Busi or Cao Changqing. The burden now falls to you, Luo Yang, Nangong Puyu, and the younger generation.”
Xu Fengnian looked surprised.
Deng Ta’a didn’t keep him guessing and gave the answer, “I’m going to travel to foreign lands and seek out sages and sword experts to refine my sword techniques.”
Deng Ta’a laughed broadly, “Among a million swordsmen in the world, there should be a few who truly live and die for the sword. Perhaps if I can’t return to the Central Plains, I’ll borrow a sword one last time before death. Just to ensure the rivers and lakes don’t forget Deng Ta’a.”
He then corrected himself, “It doesn’t matter if they forget Deng Ta’a, but they mustn’t forget the sword of Deng Ta’a.”
Before departing, Deng Ta’a pointed at the ruined landscape before them. Seeing Xu Fengnian nod, he added, “There is a mystical gate called the Misty Heaven Gate in the Daoist Sect of the Northern Liang. You must visit it if you get the chance.”
With that, Deng Ta’a, his sword upon his back, softly recited a verse and vanished into the distance, “Dreams like deer in the wild, I walk the cliffs with sword in hand.”
For the next three days, along the southern gate of the city, one could see a young scholar carefully examining every sword mark and every ravine.
The entire city of Dunhuang paid little attention to such trivial matters. Upon learning that the demoness Luo Yang had entered the city and taken over the Yeting Palace, nearly ten thousand people fled overnight. Later, when they saw that Luo Yang did not massacre the innocent and that the palace master Yan Zhi of the Zijin Palace had posted reassuring notices, about three or four thousand gradually returned. Apart from the newly crowned fourth-ranked martial expert, the white-robed Luo Yang, the most talked-about figure was the previously unknown wine seller Xu Pu, who had become the deputy city master of Dunhuang, rising to a position second only to two and above ten thousand. Some claimed he was the city master’s secret lover, others that he was a hidden mastermind among the demon lords. Those who had visited his shop boasted proudly that they had long recognized Xu Pu’s potential. As for Qiao, the innkeeper who had received porcelain sets and couplets from the old eunuch, after a brief period of nervousness, he felt honored and saw his status soar, becoming one of the most influential merchants in the city.
Xu Fengnian, being an outsider, paid no mind to such mundane affairs. He focused solely on studying the myriad traces of sword marks, comparing them with the sword techniques in his mind, gaining profound insights.
At noon, when he left the city of Dunhuang, the southern outskirts were desolate. He and Hongshu and Xu Pu drank farewell wine at a roadside stall east of the city. The stall owner, though shallow in knowledge, was shrewd in dealings. Not recognizing the three, he assumed they were noble guests and dared not overcharge. They sat at a corner table. Xu Fengnian chose this time to leave because Hongshu had her affairs well in hand, and he had nothing better to do. Moreover, Luo Yang had stayed only two days in the Yeting Palace before departing quietly, removing the ever-present threat and easing his mind.
Xu Pu was in high spirits, tapping a porcelain bowl with chopsticks like a blacksmith’s hammer, softly humming a northern Liang tune of stonecutting. Though slightly off-key, the melody was endearing, a farewell song for Xu Fengnian.
Xu Pu, not being a naive fool, rose first to take his leave. On his way back, he passed a carriage. The curtain lifted slightly, and for a brief moment, a man and woman exchanged glances. Neither stopped, nor did the carriage.
Inside the carriage, a gentle woman bit her lip, tears streaming down her face.
Xu Fengnian asked softly, “Was it her?”
Hongshu smiled, “Indeed, quite a coincidence.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head, “No coincidence. Someone must have arranged it. Though likely not her doing.”
Hongshu smiled knowingly, understanding the subtlety. But to speak of it would ruin the moment. “You see the mountain as beautiful, and the mountain sees you the same. That is mutual affection. You see the mountain as beautiful, but the mountain sees you as dung. That is one-sided longing.”
If the mountain sees you as beautiful, yet you defecate upon it and expect the mountain to still love you as before—that is greed.
Hongshu changed the subject deliberately, “Why not stay a few more days and try to win over Xu Pu?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head, “I’ve never been good at winning people’s hearts. On my second journey, I didn’t even bother trying to befriend the hundred riders of the Fengzi Camp. And I can’t stand those old-fashioned displays of loyalty and prostration. Whether in politics or the martial world, people aren’t fools. If you’re lucky enough to find kindred spirits, then you’re suited to be friends. Think back to when I was a prince—apart from a few childhood friends, did I ever try to gather followers? Getting stabbed in the back by someone is not fun.”
Hongshu gently rubbed his furrowed brow and said softly, “That’s something you must change.”
Xu Fengnian nodded, “I’m working on it. Xu Pu said earlier that Xu Xiao gathers momentum, and you must ride it. That makes sense.”
After a few bowls of wine, Xu Fengnian stood, tightening the strap of his new purple bamboo book chest. “No need to see me off.”
Hongshu stayed still, watching him go with a distant gaze.
Xu Fengnian traveled northward into the territory of Jinxi Prefecture. Before reaching the site where the Wu Clan’s Nine Swords once defeated ten thousand riders, he encountered a colossal land whirlwind, a terrestrial dragon spiraling into the sky.
It was a breathtaking sight.
Xu Fengnian tightened the straps of his chest and charged forward with a loud laugh, recalling the waterfall-slicing sword technique he had practiced on Wudang Mountain. With the Spring and Autumn Sword, he carved a path through the wall of wind and entered the whirlwind.
Though land whirlwinds are generally less powerful than water spouts, they often carry sand and boulders, making them extremely dangerous. This particular whirlwind, however, was massive, and as Xu Fengnian entered it, he faced relentless bombardment—like enduring the unceasing strikes of the blind woman’s Hu Jia zither. But Xu Fengnian was prepared. He drew the Spring and Autumn Sword, slicing through the storm with swift strikes, shattering boulders with sword qi. At the same time, he summoned the mirage of the Great Huangting, stepping upon it like a rising tower, climbing as if scaling the Five Great Mountains. Amid the chaos, he closed his eyes, focusing his spirit, striking again and again, rising higher and higher, unaware that he had ascended hundreds of feet into the air.
Suddenly, the wind ceased.
Xu Fengnian burst forth, soaring above the clouds like a visitor to heaven.
Bathed in golden sunlight, he looked like a golden Buddha.
Unfortunately, no one below could witness this scene.
High above the nine heavens, gazing at the boundless golden sea of clouds, Xu Fengnian laughed aloud, “I have a sword named Fuyao!”
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