The child couldn’t help but caress the Chunlei blade lovingly. Seeing that the handsome older boy beside him wasn’t stingy, he simply plopped himself down on the edge of the adobe wall, letting his little feet dangle outside. Getting his clothes dirty meant only a day or two of scolding from his mother, but this was a real sword after all—perhaps the only chance he’d ever have to touch one in his entire life.
Seeing the child cradling the sword with such fascination, the Young Lord had no choice but to gently grasp the back of the boy’s collar and pull him back slightly, fearing the little rascal might accidentally fall off the wall.
The Young Lord then took a bite of his candied hawthorn skewer, squinting as he watched the endless stream of travelers on the road outside the city. “Water too clear holds no fish,” he murmured. With the Northern Liang army’s tight control and infiltration capabilities over the salt, iron, and horse trading industries, capturing a few fat sheep as examples wouldn’t be difficult. However, Northern Liang was a barren, impoverished place, desperately needing a large influx of real money from outside the region. Li Hanlin’s father, Li Degong, the governor of Fengzhou and now the newly appointed economic overseer of Northern Liang, had indeed earned his position not merely because he was Xu Xiao’s loyal hound. It was said that when it came to making money, if Li Degong ranked second in Northern Liang, no one dared to claim first. Xu Xiao once joked that if you gave Li Degong a copper coin, he could turn it into a tael of silver overnight. Moreover, to secure this prestigious second-grade official position—second only to the regional military governor—Li Degong, that old money-hungry fox, had actually parted with a significant amount of real silver, much to everyone’s surprise. It was rumored that a wealthy gentleman from Fengzhou once boasted loudly at a drinking party with his future in-laws that from now on, they wouldn’t be the only ones suffering under Li Iron-Coffin’s oppression.
Xu Fengnian chewed on his hawthorn, his mind wandering far and wide. This secret journey had been conducted without any fanfare, slipping away quietly. Besides the short, narrow Chunlei blade, he carried only a few banknotes and a small bag of loose silver, totaling no more than three or four hundred taels—barely enough for a single night of indulgence at the top-tier brothel in Liangzhou. As he bit down on a bamboo skewer that had long since lost its candied hawthorn, he watched the boy, who was clearly smitten with the Chunlei, press his little face against the scabbard and beam at him with a Silly smile.
Xu Fengnian noticed that the fight between the White Robe swordsman and the Horse-Cleaving Saber warrior on the platform was just reaching its climax, and the crowd wouldn’t be dispersing anytime soon. He wasn’t in a hurry to reclaim the Chunlei. This child, filled with dreams of martial arts, reminded him of a certain penniless vagabond who used to squat on a wall chewing bamboo skewers. Leaning back, he softly said with a smile, “It’s okay to touch it, but don’t draw the blade—it’s sharp. If your mother comes chasing after me with a beating, what am I supposed to do?”
The child tilted his head and winked mischievously at Xu Fengnian, then raised his voice deliberately and grinned brightly, “She won’t! My mother never hits anyone—she’s really nice!”
Xu Fengnian reached out to pat the child’s head, smiling without speaking.
Behind the two of them stood a gentle, modest young woman in a simple cotton dress. She had actually been chasing after them along the dirt path, panting from exertion. She had just been staring longingly at a hairpin stall in the market, too embarrassed to even pick one up for a closer look due to her empty purse, when she suddenly realized her son was gone. Her temperament was calm, so she didn’t show her worry on her face. Sure enough, she spotted her child sitting on the wall with a strange young swordsman. At first, she feared some kind of trouble might arise—her family lived a humble life and couldn’t afford any disruptions. She lifted her skirt slightly and hurried over, only to catch sight of the young man gently pulling her son back by the collar. In that moment, she felt a sudden calm. She knew her child had always been fascinated by wandering martial heroes. He never missed a single duel held at the old site of Dao Ma Pass. Sometimes, when he heard his playmates calling from the alley, he’d rush out without finishing his meal, only to return later and finish every grain of rice while excitedly describing the heroes’ techniques to her, making her heart swell with joy.
Many hardships that couldn’t be shared with others somehow didn’t feel so bitter anymore.
Hearing her son’s playful flattery, the young woman, whose figure was alluring yet delicate like a refined maiden, covered her mouth and laughed. Her eyes curved into crescent moons. She composed herself, though a hint of charm still lingered in her delicate brows. She bowed gracefully to this kind-hearted young gentleman. Perhaps due to the hardships of widowhood over the years, she had developed a sharp intuition about men—she could usually tell at a glance whether someone had ulterior motives or was playing subtle, deceptive games. Yet this young man with the bamboo skewer in his mouth seemed different. Compared to the son of the local garrison commander, who only knew how to pretend at sophistication, this one truly looked like someone from a noble family. What was even more rare was the clarity in his gaze—it reminded her of the water from the old well at the village entrance, clean and pure, yet unfathomably deep. It was hard not to like him.
Softly, she said, “You Song, give the sword back to this young master.”
The child nodded obediently, stood up, and though his eyes showed reluctance, he quickly got to his feet and respectfully handed the Chunlei sword back to the older boy who bent down to receive it.
Without hesitation, the young woman brushed the dust off her child’s bottom. For poor families, no matter how wildly their children played, they could never afford to ruin clothes painstakingly stitched together stitch by stitch. She was the widow of a Northern Liang postal courier, left alone after her husband’s death, and she now worked the fields by herself. The government provided a small annual stipend—only eight taels of silver—but it gave her something to look forward to. She had heard from the village teacher that according to Northern Liang military regulations, she should have received over thirty taels, but most of it was likely pocketed by corrupt officials. Still, as a widow, she didn’t dare to complain, knowing full well that she couldn’t change the situation. Some men from nearby villages had even proposed marriage, including one with military merit, but she had decided that since her son, You Song, bore her late husband’s surname Zhao, she couldn’t let him call another man “father.” You Song might be a bit mischievous, but that was precisely what made him lively and spirited. She had a little education, enough to give her a broader perspective than most village women. Every evening, as she twisted the lamp wick and listened to him recite poetry learned at the village school, the fatigue of a hard day’s labor and the struggles of life seemed to fade away, leaving her with no complaints about her modest yet fulfilling existence.
On the platform, the two martial artists exchanged dazzling swordplay, their blades flashing and clashing in a furious duel. The crowd below, mostly common folk living simple lives, didn’t care who these warriors were—whether they hailed from the Heavenly Mountains or wielded tiger-slaying cleavers. As long as the fight was exciting, they wouldn’t hold back their applause. Nearly a hundred onlookers cheered loudly, many men standing on benches, clapping and shouting without spending a single copper coin. Those who had placed bets were more tense, only clenching their fists when their chosen fighter landed a spectacular move or groaning anxiously when their champion fell behind.
Xu Fengnian had little interest in watching the fight, but he didn’t show any disdain either. He was the first to step down from the adobe wall. The young mother naturally took her child’s hand, fearing that lingering near this young master might invite gossip from the narrow-minded alleys of the town. She didn’t dare to stay on the wall any longer, wanting only to descend the muddy path and leave the market with her child as soon as possible. Their village was just a short walk away, less than a mile. The boy, grateful for the older boy’s generosity, smiled and tugged at Xu Fengnian’s sleeve. Xu Fengnian turned around, saw the child reaching out as if wanting to hold his hand, smiled, but didn’t extend his own. Instead, he glanced gently at the young woman, who was blushing furiously, not wanting to embarrass her. He simply pinched the child’s cheek and strode away.
The young woman let out a quiet sigh, her cheeks burning red. She shot her child a glare, but the boy, innocent and transparent as a sheet of thin paper, only thought his mother looked prettier than usual, not understanding why she was blushing so.
The fierce battle finally concluded. If it had lasted any longer, the hired clappers—paid with just a few copper coins—would have clapped their hands raw, their voices hoarse. Not that they were particularly dedicated; the fight had simply been that spectacular. The black-faced swordsman wielding the horse-chopping Blade, wow, his strength was truly earth-shaking, swinging his Blade hundreds of times alone was impressive enough. But even more astonishing was the White Robe swordsman, who wielded his sword with elegance, his sleeves fluttering like a dragon rising from the water, dazzling the eyes.
The horse-chopping Blade warrior admitted defeat gracefully, bowing and offering sincere praise to the swordsman. This magnanimity earned him the admiration of the crowd, and the refined swordsman, after sheathing his sword, left with the poetic line, “I have traveled thousands of miles through Jiangnan, yet return with not a single coin in my pocket,” vanishing into the distance with a Dashing air, truly embodying the demeanor of a sword immortal.
It was a scene of universal satisfaction. Before the horse-chopping Blade warrior had even stepped off the platform, an elderly man of substantial means approached to offer his patronage. Liu Nirong was just considering how to approach the capable swordsman in a way that wouldn’t seem cliché, when a middle-aged man from the Fish-Dragon Gang, looking troubled, hurried over to whisper something in her ear. Liu Nirong furrowed her brows. It seemed the local garrison commander had unexpectedly intervened, saying there was some issue with their official documents. Even when Xiao Qiang had invoked his noble lineage, it hadn’t worked. It looked like they would have to stay in the pass overnight, which made Liu Nirong uneasy. After all, Dao Ma Pass was only a small outpost, and the highest-ranking official there was a sixth-grade Deputy Captain. The person the Fish-Dragon Gang had been working hard to please was a fourth-grade officer—several ranks higher. Although it was a nominal military title without actual command authority, the Northern Liang army was a tightly-knit system, and through various connections, they could usually pull strings. There was no reason for a sixth-grade Deputy Captain at a minor pass to refuse their request, especially after they had paid generously.
Liu Nirong stopped thinking about the horse-chopping Blade warrior and hurried toward the city wall, where she met Xiao Qiang, who was clearly upset. When he saw her, he moved to the side of the road and whispered with a Bitter smile, “There’s something strange going on. Tonight’s stay might not be peaceful. We should find a bustling inn to stay at, even if it costs more. This money can’t be saved. Ten people per shift, taking turns to keep watch. If we can get through tonight, it’ll be fine.”
Liu Nirong, never a petty person, nodded and said, “That’s the way to go.”
As she spoke, Liu Nirong caught sight of a group of horse traders approaching directly, surrounding a woman of striking beauty and Arrogance demeanor. The woman, whose age was hard to tell, wore an exquisite sable fur headband, a style known as Marten forehead covering or Crouching Rabbit, popular in the border regions of Northern Liang. Originally popularized by the Prince’s Mansion, it was said that the eldest princess Xu Zhihu had first worn it in a clever way, and the fashionable noblewomen of Northern Liang quickly followed suit.
Surrounding the woman with Marten forehead covering were seasoned martial artists, their breathing deep and steady, clearly experienced. Especially the old man beside her, whose eyes were as sharp as an old eagle’s, and whose ten fingers were hooked like claws, unusually golden in color, likely due to some fierce and ruthless martial arts technique like the Dragon Claw Hand.
Seven or eight martial artists surrounded the arrogant woman like stars around the moon. Among them, the most superfluous was a powdered man with a heavy air of femininity. He was handsome, but overly effeminate, lacking any masculine vigor. He clung to the woman like a little bird, casting sinister and playful glances at Liu Nirong’s group.
Xu Fengnian was walking slowly toward them, but seeing the tension brewing, he stopped and decided to watch from a distance. Unfortunately, this subtle action was noticed not only by Liu Nirong, who had a keen eye for everything, but also by the plump woman, who brightened her eyes and curled her lips into a smile, completely ignoring Liu Nirong and directly beckoning to Xu Fengnian with a look that seemed to say she wanted to favor him.
For a woman to openly flirt with someone on the street was quite something—both bold and capable.
Xu Fengnian took a step back, which in Liu Nirong’s eyes was practically a capital offense. She thought to herself that this swordsman was truly infuriating—how could he have no trace of the spirit of a martial hero? Then again, Liu Nirong’s lips curled into a cold smile full of mockery. This Xu fellow wasn’t even a martial artist to begin with—he was just a dog groveling at the feet of a general. Expecting him to show any backbone was probably overestimating him.
The powdered young man, seeing his beloved mistress’s heart fluttering toward someone else, was so jealous his eyes turned red. He pouted and murmured, “Miss, that Pretty boy has a Blade. These barbarians are so vulgar.”
The woman raised her hand and slapped the man across the face. He cupped his cheek, his eyes filled with resentment and tears. Seeing this, Liu Nirong and her group were horrified and disgusted, feeling as if their stomachs were churning. In comparison, their dislike of that Xu fellow diminished somewhat.
The wealthy woman, who kept male companions like pets or cats and dogs, turned her face toward Xu Fengnian with a warm and flirtatious expression. She had fallen for this tall young man at first sight. After being surrounded by pretty boys from the world of cosmetics, she needed a change of flavor to refresh her palate, didn’t she? She was about to speak and tease him when the sound of horse hooves echoed down the street. Four riders, ignoring the bustling market, galloped forward, causing chaos in the streets. Fortunately, no one was trampled or injured, thanks to the riders’ skillful horsemanship despite their arrogance. One of them, a young nobleman in fine clothes, dismounted, while the other three armored guards remained on horseback.
Liu Nirong took all this in and guessed the nobleman’s identity—most likely Zhou Ziru, the eldest son of the Deputy Captain of Dao Ma Pass. On their journey, she and Master Xiao Qiang had discussed the people and places they needed to please along the way. She remembered Zhou Ziru’s name because even Xiao Qiang had emphasized it. It was said that Zhou Ziru not only had literary talent with many excellent works circulating in Northern Liang, but he was also capable of drawing a three-stone bow and shooting accurately at a hundred paces. It was said that thirty jin made one jun, and four jun made one dan. To be able to fully draw a three-dan bow was already an extraordinary feat of strength, and to maintain accuracy was enough to qualify him directly for the Northern Liang army’s scouting unit. Although the martial world and the military often looked down on each other, no one in the world dared to underestimate Northern Liang. Liu Nirong looked at Zhou Ziru, surprised that instead of speaking to the woman first, he smiled at her, which caught her off guard, making her instinctively turn her head slightly. She quickly regained her composure and felt ashamed, her gaze returning to its usual coldness.
Zhou Ziru, who could Reluctantly be considered a military noble in Northern Liang, chatted happily with the plump woman. Perhaps now that the Marten forehead covering woman had found a real gentleman like Zhou Ziru, she lost interest in Xu Fengnian and only threw him a flirtatious glance before walking through the city gate with Zhou Ziru. As they passed Liu Nirong’s group, who were on high alert, she couldn’t resist casting a scornful glance at Liu Nirong, who was as pure and elegant as a lotus. Zhou Ziru, however, paused slightly as he passed.
Xiao Qiang let out a sigh of relief. In the martial world, unless one was a lone, invincible hermit, one couldn’t always have things go their way. One had to endure some Grievance when facing various powers. He was afraid Liu Nirong would take it to heart and tried to lighten the mood with a casual remark, “This Zhou Young Master is both literary and martial, quite worthy of our Nirong.”
Liu Nirong replied bitterly, “Master, you know I hate these bureaucratic sons the most. They may seem friendly and smooth in their dealings, but in reality, they’re ruthless and devour people without spitting out the bones.”
Xiao Qiang smiled and stopped teasing his apprentice, who had such lofty aspirations. Together, they went to find a suitable inn. Generally speaking, they avoided new establishments and those that had recently changed ownership—these were old rules of the martial world, and the reasons were obvious. However, right under the eyes of the Garrisoned troops at Dao Ma Pass, they didn’t need to be too particular. Eventually, they found a well-known old inn in the bustling market. For thirty people, one night cost nearly twenty taels of silver. Even Liu Nirong, who had grown up in comfort, felt the pinch. She knew that local regulars would pay less than ten taels, but for the sake of safety, even if they were being overcharged like naive tourists, the Fish-Dragon Gang could only grit their teeth and endure.
During this time, Xu Fengnian quietly followed behind. The scene on the street had caused the Fish-Dragon Gang to look down on this Pei Blade Young Man, who wasn’t even on the same path as them. They thought to themselves, “You brat, you carry a Blade just for show? You were almost taken away by a woman as her Pretty boy. Even if you can’t beat those thugs, at least show some anger on your face! Your silent retreat makes us Fish-Dragon Gang look bad too!”
Spitting on the ground beside Xu Fengnian’s feet, one of the younger members of the Fish-Dragon Gang muttered, “Hmph!”
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