The group quickened their pace toward the vast snowy plain. As they approached, the wind and thunder grew more violent, roaring like a stampede of ten thousand horses, piercing their eardrums with pain. Qingniao, holding the sword Chana in one hand and an umbrella in the other, remained calm and composed.
The old man in the lambskin robe, perhaps feeling the matter had nothing to do with him, walked leisurely, letting the raindrops strike his body at will. As a martial expert whose inner energy was formidable, it would have been easy for Lichungang to keep the rain and wind at bay. Yet to him, such ostentatious displays of a grandmaster’s elegance were unnecessary and best left unperformed.
The umbrella could not fully shelter them from the storm, and Xufengnian’s robe was already soaked through at the hem, his boots nearly filled with enough water to raise a few fish. He stretched his hand into the rain, pushing the umbrella slightly toward Qingniao. But after a few steps, Qingniao quietly shifted back, leaving most of her body exposed to the downpour. Xufengnian, half-annoyed and half-amused, simply took the umbrella, drew Qingniao’s slender shoulders close, and shared the shelter with her.
Xuan Yuanqingfeng walked listlessly along the way, her spirit scattered and her steps unsteady. Her martial cultivation had always been mediocre at best. Large raindrops like soybeans struck her cold and beautiful face, making her look pitiful indeed.
Xufengnian glanced back, though without much pity. Truth be told, he bore no deep hatred toward this woman. It was merely that during his travels years ago, he had stumbled into her family’s conflict and taken a minor grudge upon himself. Moreover, the Xuan family, being powerful and conspicuous, naturally drew the attention of the young prince, who would not usually quarrel with ordinary families. Thus, in time, he had chosen Xuan Yuanqingfeng and her family as his target. Besides, every time Wen Hua mentioned this aristocratic lady, he would grit his teeth in anger. As brothers forged in hardship, Xufengnian felt obliged, by both sentiment and reason, to stand up for Wen Hua.
The days he had spent wandering with Wen Hua were essentially a bitter yet joyous tale of two penniless wanderers. Xufengnian remembered how, when he played chess for food money in the countryside, Wen Hua would pretend to be a player and win some coins, cleverly luring spectators into the game. When Xufengnian quarreled or fought with others, Wen Hua would always shout, “A gentleman uses words, not fists!”—pretending to mediate while loudly exclaiming, “Don’t fight! Don’t fight!”—yet secretly kicking the sore spots of those cheaters who refused to pay up after losing. After such a brawl, people would be left bewildered, having suffered countless blows like “Monkey Plucks the Peach” or “Black Tiger Steals the Heart,” their bodies marked by Wen Hua’s footprints. By the time they finally came to their senses, they were already lying on the ground, too weak to fight back.
Wen Hua deeply admired Xufengnian’s resourcefulness. Once during the Yuanxiao Lantern Festival in Liuzhou, the two had seen a young lady with an exceptionally slender waist—so thin it seemed she might snap if she turned too quickly. Xufengnian bet Wen Hua that he could put his arm around the girl’s waist without getting slapped. Wen Hua refused to believe him. Yet Xufengnian did exactly that, even whispering something into her ear. Wen Hua’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The girl first glared at Xufengnian furiously, but after hearing his words, her expression softened into tenderness. She shot Wen Hua a fierce glare but did not pull away. Xufengnian then released her enticing waist, chatting and laughing with the girl, even making a squeezing gesture behind her back toward Wen Hua’s direction. To this day, Wen Hua still doesn’t understand how Xufengnian pulled it off. The truth was simple: Xufengnian had told the girl that Wen Hua behind him was a rogue with ill intentions, and he was merely protecting her. Poor Wen Hua, who always looked at women with green eyes full of desire, was easily mistaken—even for a notorious rapist rather than a mere flirt.
Now, Xufengnian tightened his arm around Qingniao’s wet shoulder and chuckled softly, “Those few words of ‘Master Wen,’ he really will remember your kindness for years.”
Qingniao hummed in confusion.
Xufengnian turned his head to gaze at her face—plain but never tiring to look at—and smiled, “Never mind. My thoughts just wandered off for a moment.”
Xuan Yijing walked ahead, his mind calculating fiercely like a rattling abacus. His elder brother had dared to come to the snowy plain of Gu Niu Mountain even after killing Xuan Jingxuan, a Grandmaster-level martial artist. Even if he came bearing a bundle of sticks to apologize, he would gain no favor. The old patriarch’s temperament was unpredictable, but his vengefulness and profit-driven nature were unquestionable. Clearly, his elder brother, Xuan Jingcheng, had studied himself into uselessness. It would have been fine if he had simply pursued his academic studies in peace. But somehow, he had used underhanded methods to kill his beloved younger brother, Xuan Jingxuan. How could the old patriarch possibly forgive him? And his niece, who had clearly turned against the family, was acting suspiciously, as if she had given up entirely. What chance did a woman have to rise above others in Huishan?
The senior guest Huang Fangfo remained calm, while Hong Biao seemed somewhat uneasy. Xuan Yijing ignored these minor details. As he stepped onto the snowy plain, he immediately spotted the towering figure of the old patriarch. The aura around him surged like a tide, forming an invisible umbrella that kept the raindrops sliding away three feet from his body.
Looking further, there stood his elder brother Xuan Jingcheng in the middle of the field, drenched like a drowned rat, coughing while covering his mouth.
“You scholars claim to follow the northern sage Zhang’s teachings—cultivating oneself, managing one’s family, governing the state, and bringing peace to the world. But I ask you, Xuan Jingcheng, what cultivation have you done? What family have you managed? You lived your entire life without even protecting your wife and daughter. Others seek rebirth for freedom, ha! You’re better off not being reborn at all!”
The wind howled at the mountain peak, but the old patriarch’s laughter was even more piercing. By normal standards, Xuan Jingcheng had not yet reached fifty, so saying he had lived half a life was appropriate. Yet Xuan Dapan said he had lived a full lifetime, clearly seeing through Xuan Jingcheng’s method of trading his life for cultivation. Moreover, the old patriarch had no intention of letting this bookish descendant continue living. One earthly immortal was enough for Huishan. What did it mean to enjoy the peace of the mortal world alone? If there were two, how absurd would that be? And where would the exclusivity be? If Xuan Jingcheng had followed his will and practiced martial arts in his youth, Xuan Dapan would not have minded letting him take over Huishan after his ascension. But if Xuan Jingcheng dared to challenge him for the title of earthly immortal during his lifetime, Xuan Dapan would surely crush him!
If he could ascend, that would be best. But if centuries of effort brought no immortality, then after death, he would not care about the family’s rise or fall. His descendants would manage on their own. Whether they thrived or perished, Xuan Dapan would not give a damn.
Hearing these words, Xuan Yijing finally felt reassured. The situation had developed as expected; the old patriarch would not tolerate his elder brother’s recklessness this time. What intrigued him was how his elder brother had managed to kill Xuan Jingxuan, who had already reached the Finger-Heaven level, when even Xuan Jingcheng, who enjoyed the advantage of leading Huishan, could not.
Xuan Jingcheng caught sight of his father Xuan Guoqi’s expression and was startled. Why did his father look so grave?
Then Xuan Jingcheng spoke words that left his father stunned: “Heavenly misfortunes may be forgiven, but self-inflicted ones cannot. Today, Xuan Jingcheng merely acts as Heaven’s agent, sweeping away the dust accumulated over five hundred years in Huishan. How much I can clear depends on Heaven’s will. In half a teacup’s time, I have exchanged two hundred and sixteen moves with the old patriarch in the Heaven-Viewing realm. Has he shown even a hint of victory?”
Xuan Dapan, who had commanded awe in Huishan for sixty years, replied calmly yet sharply, “Have you truly wounded me, even at the cost of your life?”
Xuan Jingcheng, dressed as a middle-aged scholar, smiled faintly, “The old patriarch has walked the martial path for nearly a century. For Huishan, even if he has no merit, he has done much hard work. If I, after twenty years of broad study and careful selection, easily defeat him, the old patriarch would die with regret.”
Xuan Yijing felt his elder brother had gone mad.
But soon, a chill of terror ran through his bones. Two hundred exchanges with the old patriarch?
Suddenly, Xuan Jingcheng turned his head and said, “Third brother Jingxuan strayed from the path to flatter the times. Second brother Jingyi, you walk a crooked path for fame. Neither of you follows the true way. Heaven’s misfortunes may be forgiven, but self-inflicted ones cannot.”
Xuan Dapan’s face twisted in fury, “Let’s see what other tricks you have left!”
Xuan Jingcheng spoke calmly, “Jingcheng has spent twenty years in broad study and careful selection, seeking today’s sudden burst of achievement. I will not disappoint the old patriarch. Since everyone is here, I shall take the first step. If the old patriarch still hides his strength, keeping his realm at the middle Heaven-Viewing level, beware that you may never reach the ultimate Heaven-Viewing stage again!”
Xuan Dapan sneered, “Oh? You’ve made such a grand commotion, yet even that fallen woman hasn’t come to watch. Are you so eager to go to the Yellow Spring Road? Or perhaps you can’t hold on until then? Your method may be wondrous, but it is far more heretical than mine…”
Before Xuan Dapan could finish, Xuan Jingcheng rudely turned away and looked toward his daughter in the distance. The scholar’s face bore a serene, cheerful smile.
To cultivate oneself, one must first rectify one’s heart.
Do not say a scholar lacks courage; he dares to sink the heavens and seas.
Those who achieve greatness are not only gifted beyond their peers but also possess unshakable willpower.
Xuan Qingfeng’s mind raced through a flood of poetry and prose.
“I have entered the realm of earthly immortality.”
Xuan Jingcheng closed his eyes. Blood flowed from his seven orifices, yet his expression remained calm as he stretched out his arms, as if embracing the entire world.
From him as the center, the water on the snowy plain rippled outward in concentric circles.
In that instant, nine bolts of lightning descended from the heavens.
Li Chungang, who had been silent until now, sighed, “This young man is no mere scholar—he is a sage among scholars.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage