It was considered fortunate to leave Duckhead Green Inn with one’s body intact, for the ground was strewn with dismembered limbs and shattered remains. Some were even worse off—crushed into pulp beneath the boots of Xie Ling, the demonic mastermind known as the Snake-Eating Elephant. Xu Fengnian sat upon the ground, feeding his jade-green flying sword Zhuma until it was sated, then withdrew it into his sleeve. He turned to glance at the remains of the now-headless martial villain, whose body had collapsed into a puddle of blood and gore.
Back then, when Xie Ling, arrogant and proud, had asked if he had any last words, the Young Lord had nearly replied that if he survived, he would bury Xie Ling and his wife together in the same coffin. But he swallowed the words, fearing the demon might grow wary and overestimate him.
Xie Ling, who devoured a hundred human hearts each year, was naturally despised, though not particularly hated. In the martial world, to rise above others often required one to take the path of snakes or the ways of mice. Especially for someone like Xie Ling, who had no prestigious sect to rely upon, climbing the cultivation ladder was especially arduous. One misstep, and he would end up like so many young novices—dead before they could even bloom. Yet had Xu Fengnian hesitated with mercy during their life-or-death clash, it would have meant he thought too lightly of his own life. Had he not confirmed from the waist-swaying innkeeperess that Xie Ling’s cultivation had declined to the edge of the Realm of the Indestructible, he would have fled without hesitation. But now, having narrowly escaped death, Xu Fengnian felt not only relief but also pity for Xie Ling. After all, this was a man who had once truly reached the Realm of Mystic Fingers, a top-tier expert. Yet his mind was in shambles, his temperament utterly mismatched with his martial prowess. After losing to the famed Luoyang, he had acted like a woman scorned—bringing up the pain again and again. Xu Fengnian mused that Xie Ling simply hadn’t fought enough. He should have learned from the ruffians of the underworld: fight if you can, run if you can’t. At least shout, “I’ll be a man again in eighteen years!” That would have been better than Xie Ling’s fate—succumbing to mental scars. The danger of falling from one’s cultivation realm was no less than that of false realms. An old man who picked his toes had once explained this clearly.
Xu Fengnian glanced at the Chunlei sword still embedded in Xie Ling’s skull. Long ago, the old man Li, clad in lambskin, had wielded his umbrella like a sword in the rain, unleashing the strike “Immortal Kneels,” shattering the Red Armor of the The Talisman General. Xu Fengnian sighed. How many in this world could fall so far as Li Chungan and yet return to the realm of sword immortals? The man who once cleaved through two thousand six hundred armors with a single sword stroke—how vast the martial world might be, there was only one such man.
Xu Fengnian narrowed his phoenix eyes, still filled with killing intent after the slaughter, and gazed toward the dark-skinned innkeeper’s apprentice, Qin Wuzu, who slowly emerged from the inn. He wasn’t clever to leave the safety of his hidden cellar, yet he was clever indeed to take hostage the only surviving child.
Earlier, on the second floor, Xu had deliberately summoned his flying sword to draw the landlady’s attention, then slashed her head clean off. He had then sought out Xie Ling’s apprentice, the one known as “One Move Wins.” Whether to kill him or not wasn’t the immediate concern—first, he needed to confirm Qin Wuzu’s whereabouts. But when he found no trace of the boy upstairs, he set it aside. The widow of Tao Qianzhi wasn’t particularly chaste, but she was decisive. She had realized that even if she survived, she would never escape the grasp of Murong Zhangtai. There would be no peace to mourn her husband or safely return his coffin home. Thus, she begged Xu Fengnian to save her daughter, Tao Manwu. Then, with tears and a bitter smile, she asked him to strike quickly and ensure her daughter did not witness the act. Xu agreed. As she closed her eyes to meet death, her final words were not curses for the man who had slain her husband, but a venomous wish for the fat Dong, her husband’s sworn brother, who had failed to personally escort them to Liuxia City. She wished the Northern Liang young nobleman would never know peace in this life. The hearts of women are indeed hard to fathom.
Xu Fengnian slowly rose, addressing the dark-skinned apprentice directly: “You want to live? Fine. I’m not like your demon master who kills indiscriminately. Let her go, and I’ll let you live.”
Qin Wuzu’s hands trembled violently. The girl’s neck was already bruised and turning purple from his grip. As his grip tightened unintentionally, her breathing faltered, nearly dying. Tears streamed down his face, but he remained unaware. Through a hidden crack, he had witnessed Xu Fengnian’s swift slaughter of the Zharong soldiers. He knew the well-dressed young man behind the mask was no gentle gentleman. Like a wounded wolf cub, he glared at the young swordsman beside Xie Ling’s corpse and gritted out, “Do you keep your word?”
Xu Fengnian asked calmly, “Or would you like to test it by killing her?”
Qin Wuzu slightly loosened his grip but hesitated. The inn was awash in blood and death—how many coffins would it take to bury them all? A mixture of grief, fear, and rage churned within him. The innkeeper and landlady, though stingy, had been family to him since his first day at Duckhead Green. If the old man had truly been so cheap, he wouldn’t have taught him that life-saving technique. Qin Wuzu’s voice trembled as he asked, “Swear an oath. Promise me you won’t kill me if I let her go!”
The apprentice quickly added, “And don’t cripple me or make me wish for death!”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “One condition: bring me Xie Ling’s secret manual. I’ll return it after reading. Qin Wuzu, know this—should I wish to torture you, I have countless ways.”
In that moment that felt like an eternity, Qin Wuzu slowly loosened his grip, only to tighten it again several times before finally letting go. He shoved the girl toward Xu Fengnian, but the child stumbled and stood her ground, not moving toward him. Ignoring the girl’s feelings, Qin Wuzu secured a way out: “I’ll go get it, but the old drunk and landlady hid things well. I’ll need time. Please don’t grow impatient and come after me.”
Xu Fengnian waved him off. Qin Wuzu ran into the inn. Xu approached the girl, Tao Manwu, who had fallen to the ground in fear, too terrified to cry.
Xu Fengnian sat on the steps, waiting quietly for the thirty-odd light cavalry of the Murong clan who would soon return. He still did not draw Chunlei. The subtle benefits of keeping the sword sheathed were known only to Heaven, Earth, himself, and Li Chungan. It was no less profound than opening the vital springs. Cultivating twelve sword embryos was a cunning detour; keeping the blade sheathed and nurturing its intent was the true path. When Li Chungan entered the Heaven’s Image realm, he sealed his sword for years, never drawing it, until it culminated in the grand spectacle of “Sword Opens the Heavenly Gate.” When the world meets injustice, people cry out—it’s natural. But to keep the sword sheathed unless in mortal danger, to cut through all troubles in one stroke—that is the essence of sword cultivation.
Li Chungan had once said: “At thirty, my sword cultivation was perfected. I felt a thousand sword intents within me. One breath, and I could overturn Heaven and Earth.”
How could Xu Fengnian not yearn for that? A noble heir who should be indulging in luxury instead chose to walk alone through Northern Liang. Was it not to force himself to the brink, to cultivate his blade’s intent? Had he not revered the old lambskin-clad master so deeply, on the city wall of Yanhuiguan, when the female demon Huang Baozhuang insulted Li Chungan after her victory over Tuli Zhu, Xu Fengnian’s hand on his blade had not been a bluff—he had been seeking death. Alas, that reverence, even as he parted ways with the old man, had never been spoken aloud.
Xu Fengnian unsheathed Chunlei, resting it under his chin, and mocked himself: “Sentimental fool.”
The shoddy horse had somehow arrived at the courtyard, now without walls, and nuzzled him. Xu reached out, stroking its mane, and teased, “Brother, today’s mess is all your fault. Still, it turned out well. Those dozens of taels weren’t wasted.” Qin Wuzu clutched a yellowed ancient tome behind the threshold, struggling within himself, lacking the courage to strike with his “One Move Wins” against this man more terrifying than a demon. He finally stepped forward, handing over the secret manual of the Snake-Eating Elephant.
As Xu flipped through the pages, he asked without looking up, “Qin Wuzu, what will you do with the girls who hid in the cellar with you, especially the one named Cherry?”
Qin Wuzu’s heart jolted. He lowered his head, silent.
Xu tore half the manual and tucked it into his robe, tossing the upper half to the dark-skinned boy: “This half is for saving them.”
Qin Wuzu accepted the manual that had made the old drunk the tenth-ranked demon in Northern Liang. His expression betrayed his joy, and his red-rimmed eyes asked, “If I kill the other girls besides Cherry, will you give me more pages?”
Xu shook his head: “No.”
Qin Wuzu’s eyes hardened. Tao Manwu, the girl, seemed to sense something and instinctively stepped back, hiding behind Xu Fengnian despite her fear. In the room upstairs, when she sensed her mother’s unease, she had done the same—hiding behind the stranger Xu Fengnian.
As he watched humanity slowly erode, Xu Fengnian smiled gently: “I won’t force you to kill the girl you love. In my chest, I have half the manual—eighty-four pages. Soon, Murong cavalry will come. For every rider you kill, I’ll give you one page. The deal is yours to make.”
Qin Wuzu gritted his teeth: “I’ll do it!”
Horrifying hoofbeats approached. The girl turned pale, crouching and clutching Xu’s sleeve. Qin Wuzu seized the sixty-jin iron spear left at the door by Murong Jiangshen and charged out.
Half an hour later, the blood-soaked Qin Wuzu dragged the spear back, limping. He grinned: “Master, they’re all dead.”
Xu tore off thirty pages and tossed them.
Qin counted aloud, fingers dipped in blood: “I killed thirty-one riders, but you gave me only thirty.”
Xu smiled.
Qin shivered, lowering his head, silent.
Xu stood and returned to the inn: “Go find me some clean, fitting clothes and some silver. I’ll wait in my old room. Oh, and bury the innkeeper and landlady together. Also, find a Liuzhou coffin for the girl’s mother. If you ever need the remaining manual, go to Northern Liang’s Youzhou and find General Huangfu Ping. As for seeking revenge—should you have the courage, I won’t stop you. Just think carefully about the outcome.”
Changing into a plain black robe with white lining, Xu had to admit Qin Wuzu was a clever boy.
He handed a heavy pouch of silver to Tao Manwu. The child struggled to lift it, silent.
Xu said calmly, “Tao Manwu, to survive, first learn that only work brings food.”
The bag was too heavy. The child bent to hold it, then suddenly cried, “You’re a bad man! Uncle Dong will beat you up!”
Qin, eavesdropping at the door, rolled his eyes. The kid had no idea how close to death she was. He had yet to master the manual’s techniques, and he’d never dare seek out this man again.
Xu paused, staring into the child’s bright eyes: “Fine. When I find the right place and time, I’ll send you to this Dong Fatty whose name I’ve heard but never met.”
The girl suddenly dropped the bag, covered her eyes, and sobbed, “I didn’t see your face! Don’t blind me!”
Xu’s heart tightened. He sighed softly, reached out, and gently patted her head: “If I’ve sunk so low as to harm a child, I deserve to die in Northern Liang. I know you’re clever. You have a gift I don’t understand. You’ll know when I’m lying.”
Through her fingers, Tao Manwu peeked at his smile, quickly closed her eyes, but nodded.
Xu patted her head: “Time to go. Carry your bag. No work, no food. If you starve, don’t blame me.”
Qin watched the pair leave, puzzled.
Especially when the swordsman lifted the girl onto his horse and rode off into the sunset, Qin felt as if he were dreaming.
He shook himself, patted his chest where the manual lay, and hurried toward the cellar, muttering, “I survived today. I’ll make it someday!”
He suddenly stopped, turned, and climbed to the roof. As the horse vanished from sight, the boy who had seen life and death in a day crouched and wept bitterly.
As the sun set, a mismatched pair rode through the yellow sands.
The adult said gently, “Tao Manwu, your parents might not know, but I do. You can see into hearts. I’ll keep your secret.”
The child bit her lip.
He smiled: “I love that song. Sing it for me. If it’s good, I’ll take you to Uncle Dong sooner.”
She glanced back, then turned away, frowning: “You’re lying!”
He laughed heartily.
The girl, eyes red, whispered, “I want to sing for my parents. Can they hear me?”
He said softly, “I don’t know. But if you don’t sing, they certainly won’t.”
Her voice, still clear and ethereal, grew sadder with tears.
Grass will grow again next spring,
Geese will fly back and forth.
The spring wind blows today,
Will the Young Lord return?
Green stones, green grass,
On the green bridge walks a green-robed youth, humming the Jinling tune.
Whose daughter laughs beneath her veil?
This year’s leaves fall yellow,
Year after year.
Next autumn’s wind will rise,
Will my lady still be here?
Yellow river, yellow flowers,
In the Yellow River city lives a yellow-flower maiden, chasing butterflies with grace.
Whose young man holds his sword in its sheath?
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage