Cao Changqing took a few subtle glances at Xu Fengnian, who sat as still as a meditating monk, confirming that he had just entered the Realm of the Indestructible. Compared to their first encounter in Jiangnan, Xu had grown significantly in his cultivation aura.
Within the borders of Xichu, during idle drinking sessions with Li Chunzhan, the old sword immortal often spoke of this ill-fated heir of Beiliang, praising and criticizing him in equal measure, elevating his future potential to the level of Bai Hu’er Lian of the Tingchao Pavilion and Qixian Xia of Longhushan. The elder praised the young man’s resilience, noting he was unlike typical spoiled aristocrats. Though his martial cultivation talent fell slightly short of Hong Xixiang’s, his diligence made up for it. Moreover, his fear of death drove him to seek the safest, most arduous methods to elevate his cultivation, rather than indulging recklessly. However, the old man disapproved of his treatment of women—his flirtatious nature often leading him to tease pretty girls, only to abandon them carelessly. This applied to both Yu Yuanji, a remnant of Xichu, and Pei Nanwei, the Princess of Jing’an, which greatly annoyed the old man in sheepskin. Cao Changqing harbored neither strong affection nor deep dislike for the youth. When Xu resisted the temptation of killing Chen Zhibao in exchange for Princess Jiang Ni’s hand, Cao, seasoned in political intrigue, merely felt slight surprise. Long-term planning was Cao’s specialty; had Xu accepted immediately, it would have been truly disappointing. Given the princess’s stubborn nature, she might one day, after mastering sword cultivation, mercilessly kill the man she deemed selfish and heartless, or perhaps never meet him again. Cao secretly preferred such an outcome, far less troublesome than their current entanglement.
Yet when the princess flew toward him on her sword, uttering a confession from a dying man, Cao couldn’t help but sigh. In the old Xichu palace, as a young boy entering court, how many years had he spent playing the game of Go, clacking stones with a clear sound—yet for whom had he played? Did she ever know? Perhaps even at her death, she believed the Go master played only for the emperor’s benefit. Compared to this young man, even as a Confucian Sage, hadn’t he also fallen short?
Cao turned his gaze toward the direction the young princess had flown, sighing again. She and Xu Fengnian were destined to part ways. In the future, she might even be forced by her nation’s fate and Cao’s strategy to fight him to the death. Was this the reason she feigned reluctance to train, claiming she feared hardship? Cao steadied his thoughts, noticing Xu’s energy flow reaching a critical juncture. He gently tapped a finger, lending strength to help Xu ascend the Kunlun peak. This battle had severely damaged his meridians; even with the Da Huangting, a Daoist technique unique to the past century, recovery would be no easy feat. Why must the noble heir endure such hardship? Cao mused that in chaotic times, one must take bold risks on narrow paths, while in peaceful eras, one walks broad, sunlit roads. Xu Fengnian, a prince of unparalleled power, seemed caught in the crevice between—his surface gleaming, yet his path perilous. Cao felt no pity; born into the Xu family, one must be ready to struggle in turbulent waters. Princess Jiang Ni, bearing immense fate, could never live a tranquil, uneventful life.
After three small cycles of Xu’s energy circulation, he opened his eyes and asked, “Master, are you truly determined to restore the Xichu dynasty? That’s why you’ve come to Beimang to contact the remnants?”
Cao did not hide his intentions, nodding. “Indeed. Many Xichu remnants and scholars now serve as high officials in Beimang’s southern court. Before reaching the border, I visited the Liyang palace, inscribing the princess’s identity on the Nine-Dragon Wall. The court has since launched a harsh crackdown on literary dissent, and Guangling Wang personally led troops to brutally suppress six academies. The elderly Grand Tutor Sun Xiji resigned and returned home, while students at the Imperial Academy grew restless. The Left and Right Sacrificial Officers, once feigning harmony, finally broke into open conflict. The emperor refused Sun’s resignation but allowed Huan Wen to step down as Left Sacrificial Officer and serve as a regional governor in Guangling, attempting to appease the scholars.”
Xu chuckled bitterly. “Lucky it’s her, or she’d surely resent you for forcing her into this.”
Cao replied calmly, “Whether the restoration succeeds or fails, I will eventually apologize to the princess with my life, ensuring her peace.”
Xu shifted the heavy topic, frowning. “Why did Deng Tai’a provoke Toba Boshi in the north?”
Cao, sitting upright with unmatched elegance, brushed a strand of hair with two fingers, smiling. “Three months ago, I fought him at the ruins of Xilei. During that battle, I broke through to a new realm. Deng said fighting me had grown dull and decided to challenge Toba instead. Though he spoke lightly, I know this journey differs from his past duels with Wang Xianzhi, where he used the city lord as a whetstone. This time, only two outcomes await: death at Toba’s hands or ascension as a sword immortal. If Deng becomes a sword immortal through technique alone, he might truly challenge Wang Xianzhi’s title as the world’s greatest. Since he gifted you the twelve flying swords, I suspect the era when Toba and Wang could easily defeat the next eight combined is over. As you venture deeper into Beimang, watch closely.”
Xu laughed. “Since you’ve become a Sage, that argument no longer holds.”
Cao shook his head. “The sages of the three teachings may possess high cultivation, but their martial prowess is exaggerated. I entered the terrestrial immortal realm merely to bolster the princess’s momentum. To true hidden masters, it’s laughable.”
Xu teased, “You’re too modest. A Sage is a Sage. Who dares underestimate you? If I had your cultivation and no burdens, I’d storm the palace and humiliate the emperor.”
Cao paused his fingers beside a strand of hair, then folded his hands on his knees, smiling. “If that day comes, I’ll surely watch.”
Xu chuckled. “Just joking. Don’t take it seriously.”
Cao glanced at the endless prairie, speaking calmly. “Once, a Xichu scholar ventured to the border, his vision expanding, his poetry maturing from courtly ditties to scholarly verse. It’s the same with you. Leaving Beiliang’s shelter to journey alone to Beimang, you’ve gained the vision and courage to stand on your own. Good.”
Xu replied bitterly. “Without your arrival, I’d likely have died here.”
Cao fixed him with a stare. “Do you know how many times your father, General Xu, faced death?”
Xu answered softly. “Father was merely a second-tier martial artist but loved leading from the front. He always said survival was luck, and he considered himself fit only to govern a single province, thrust into his current position as a king of foreign blood.”
Cao sighed. “As a foreign king, the general bore countless grudges for the Zhao family. The saying goes, ‘When the rabbit dies, the hound is cooked.’ Do you think the emperor doesn’t want this? He simply lacks the nation’s strength. Like the Beimang empress, who hasn’t yet the power to breach Beiliang’s gates.”
Xu smiled. “Master, you’re bordering on provocation.”
Cao laughed. “We both know the truth.”
Xu smiled silently. After a pause, he frowned. “Pity Toba Chunsun escaped. Though you took a temporary apprentice to obscure my trail, Toba’s resources will soon uncover clues.”
Cao said calmly. “I intervened to repay a debt owed to you from Jiangnan. From now on, Xu and Cao are even. Otherwise, given the feud between General Xu and Xichu, not killing you would already betray my identity.”
Xu nodded. “Even.”
Cao suddenly rubbed his forehead, shaking his head in mild frustration. Meanwhile, Jiang Ni flew on her sword, Daliang Longque, slicing through the sky, circling to intercept Toba Chunsun’s group.
Toba, not seeing Cao, secretly relaxed, smiling. “What does this lady want?”
Jiang Ni replied flatly. “Die.”
Toba suppressed his fury, spreading his hands innocently. “Uncle Cao has forgiven me. Why won’t you let bygones be bygones?”
Jiang Ni dismounted her sword, more deserving of the term than Xu’s, landing silently. Without a word, she joined her fingers, whispering, “Lin!”
Daliang Longque tore through the sky, its momentum rivaling Duan Bo’er Huihui’s thunder spear.
Toba’s pupils contracted. He drew an arrow, shooting with precision.
The arrow struck the sword, deflecting it—but the blade’s energy shattered the arrow.
Daliang Longque’s speed didn’t waver. Toba, seated on his horse, drew his saber, blocking the sword. The saber trembled, then snapped. Toba ducked, discarding the saber, tumbling off his horse in disgrace.
The sword circled back to Jiang Ni, tracing a perfect arc.
“Zhen!”
Jiang Ni bent her middle finger, snapping it with her thumb.
Behold—a celestial being sits in the void, sword in an ocean of a thousand hectares.
If Li Chunzhan saw this, he’d surely boast again that his apprentice surpassed him as the once-in-five-centuries prodigy.
The sword danced, turning with grace, its intent elusive, tracing paths that dazzled onlookers. Qinch’a’er and others saw only the young prince fleeing like a drowned dog, while the Xiti and his hundred cavalry dismounted, crouching in fear of collateral damage.
Duan Bo’er Huihui, wary of the sword’s speed and sharpness, dared only to confront it with his energy, shielding his young master.
This young woman mastered both the Confucian Dao taught by Cao and the supreme sword techniques of Li Chunzhan.
No one else combined such innate talent with such unparalleled fortune.
Ordinary martial artists struggled upward, exhausted by the climb, awed by the summit. Only she ascended effortlessly, squandering her gifts, occasionally pausing to daydream.
Yet this lazy, reluctant swordswoman was deemed by Li Chunzhan—a figure whose sword art already surpassed peaks—to be capable of raising another mountain higher still.
When Xu saw Jiang Ni return, fuming on her sword, he softly asked Cao, “She went after Toba Chunsun?”
Cao nodded, smiling. “She didn’t kill him. Toba and his retainer likely refrained from retaliation, fearing my presence.”
Xu asked, “Master, may I have two more hours to recover? Then I’ll speak with Jiang Ni.”
Cao nodded expressionlessly.
Two hours later—whether an eternity or a blink—Xu exhaled slowly, his face normal again. Rising, he found Cao gone.
Miles away, Cao gripped his graying hair, squinting at the sky. How many partings and reunions can one life endure?
Xu approached the distant woman standing with her back to him.
Hearing his footsteps, she scoffed. “Next time we meet, it’ll be your death!”
Xu stood beside her, gazing southward, silent. After years of bickering, she’d never won an argument.
She spoke coldly. “If you dare die in Beimang…”
Xu rolled his eyes. “I know what you’ll say. You’ll find my corpse and vent your anger on it, right?”
She bit her lip, turning her head sharply. “Good.”
Hesitating, Xu stepped before her, touching her forehead gently. “I’ll train diligently with the saber. You train hard with the sword. Promise me—if you lose, I won’t let you go.”
She wanted to lash out—saying his skills were no match for hers, that she could already fly on her sword. Yet, looking at his bloodstained figure, she felt a strange distance, and her eyes welled with tears she couldn’t hide.
Xu touched a finger to her cheek. “Dimple.”
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