Xu San was a postal courier, the third child in his family, thus called Xu San. A strong young man, full of vigor and youth, yet unfortunate to be born ten years too late, missing the grand battles of the Spring and Autumn Periods, leaving him no chance to earn any merit or honor. His superior at the Ji Ming Temple postal station, an old man named Liu, was luckier. During the battle at Xi Lei Wall, Liu had beheaded six enemies. After retiring from the Northern Liang army due to old age, he obtained a minor bureaucratic post as head of the station. Originally from Liaodong, he had endured too many hardships on the battlefield, his body weakened, and he feared the cold of the north. Thus, he moved his entire family south. In his spare time, he enjoyed telling stories to young couriers like Xu San about the thrilling battles of the Nine Kingdoms, especially praising the heroic feats of the King of Northern Liang. Each time he spoke, he would spit and gesticulate wildly, his breath reeking of wine. Xu San and the other couriers loved to listen to the old man’s tales, never tiring of the same old stories. Xu San, in particular, wished his parents had given birth to him sooner. After all, now that peace reigned across the land, even the poorest villagers no longer feared sudden death. They could tend their small plots of land and look forward to a better future. When heavy snow fell during the New Year, elders used to sigh and wonder who might not survive the winter, but now they smiled by the fire, calling it a promising omen for a bountiful harvest.
Though illiterate, Xu San understood the value of Liu’s stories. He knew that the postal stations were personally established by the King of Northern Liang, with a station every thirty li. Anyone who dared to embezzle the couriers’ wages, no matter how high their rank, would be beheaded on the spot. Moreover, Xu San shared the same surname as the King of Northern Liang, the great general Xu, and as a courier, he always rode with extra diligence, believing he must not dishonor his name.
Last year, Ji Ming Temple postal station received its first urgent six-hundred-li delivery in years, bound for the north. Xu San, with his superior physique and horsemanship, was the obvious choice. However, fortune and misfortune often walk hand in hand. Liu had intended to mentor Xu San, but disaster struck midway. Upon handing over the package at the next station, the courier was accused of damaging the cargo. A eunuch from the imperial court, his voice shrill as if his ancestors had been insulted, screamed for Xu San’s entire family to be executed. Xu San, unaccustomed to such high-ranking figures, had heard from Liu that even third-grade officials feared these imperial eunuchs who served the emperor. He immediately fell to his knees, begging the pale, beardless eunuch to take only his life. But the eunuch ignored his pleas, forcing local officials to take a stance. He claimed the cargo was fresh lychees meant for the Empress, preserved in an ice chest, and that Xu San had ruined the precious box, worth a fortune. The lychees from the southern provinces were now useless. The eunuch glared and asked, “Does this wretch deserve death?” The officials reluctantly agreed. Xu San accepted his fate, but before he could react, the thunder of hooves echoed, and hundreds of armored soldiers arrived, led by a general who immediately drew his Northern Liang saber and beheaded the eunuch. He helped Xu San to his feet and asked the terrified officials, “Does he still deserve death for killing a courier?” The officials, in fear, repeated “Deserve death!” twice in a row. Xu San, stunned and barely believing his survival, later learned that the general was none other than the King of Northern Liang himself.
Xu San’s face was pale, but he rode recklessly, clutching a satchel. He had long since run out of sweat, his lips cracked and bleeding, his vision blurred, and the endurance of his horse uncertain. The previous night, an urgent eight-hundred-li message arrived at Ji Ming Temple. Liu was startled, for the courier who delivered the imperial edict collapsed from exhaustion the moment he arrived, muttering only, “Deliver this to Longhu Mountain for the Grand Marshal.” Liu scanned the crowd and saw only Xu San standing silently. Without hesitation, Xu San rushed to the stables, saddled a horse he cherished like a bride, fastened the satchel around his neck, and galloped toward Longhu Mountain. The King of Northern Liang had built nearly two thousand postal stations, declaring that couriers must ride with the courage of a stallion leading the charge. Xu San might not have been eloquent, but he understood what it meant to lead the way.
Now, Xu San was down to his last breath, nearly lifeless, repeating to himself, “Just twenty more li… hold on… don’t die!” If he failed the King of Northern Liang’s mission, how could he face the debt of life owed to him? In his fading vision, a figure approached. His horse stumbled and collapsed, throwing Xu San onto the road. He rolled over, barely conscious, seeing only a Daoist robe. With his last strength, he rasped, “Xu Bing of Ji Ming Temple… eight-hundred-li urgent… please deliver to Longhu Mountain…”
The Daoist knelt and nodded.
Xu San turned his head, seeing his beloved horse dead, then gazed toward Longhu Mountain, his breath ceasing, eyes wide in death. The middle-aged Daoist sighed, gently closed the young courier’s eyes, took the satchel, and opened it, revealing a yellow imperial edict.
Holding the edict in one hand, the other behind his back, he leapt forward like a streak of light, unseen by the world.
The Daoist sped forward until he reached the Xu banner, tossed the edict, and vanished. Arrows from both sides froze mid-air, only falling after he disappeared.
That year, a critical moment arrived when Daoist adepts from the mountains and Northern Liang cavalry nearly clashed, but the edict brought a rare peace.
Tonight, the middle-aged Daoist, whose name was unknown on Longhu Mountain, left his body in meditation and arrived at Kuanglu Mountain.
Seeing the young prince tuck away his dagger and talisman, casually fastening his twin blades, the stern Daoist said, “I once met Xu Xiao at the foot of this mountain.”
Xu Fengnian recalled a long-forgotten tale from Chu Luxian, and asked, “Are you the Daoist who delivered the edict at Longhu Mountain?”
The Daoist replied flatly, “Indeed.”
Xu Fengnian hesitated, then bowed with his blades, saying, “Xu Fengnian greets you, Immortal. My father once said the greatest master on Longhu Mountain was not the immortalized Qi Zhenren fifty years ago.”
The Daoist remained expressionless, gazing at Xu Fengnian and the talisman.
Xu Fengnian bowed again, asking, “I’ve always wondered, why do you not ascend to immortality, why not enter the Heavenly Gate?”
The Daoist replied calmly, “My surname is Zhao.”
The same as the Emperor’s?
Four simple words explained many mysteries. Why had the previous Grand Master sacrificed his life to extend the Emperor’s? Why did the court heap honors upon Longhu Mountain? Why did the current Grand Master Zhao Danping thrive in the capital? Why was the White Lotus Scholar favored?
Xu Fengnian’s hands trembled slightly, lifting his head defiantly, “You are already beyond the mortal world.”
The Daoist, whose age and cultivation were unfathomable, smiled faintly, “Have you not heard of a single person attaining Dao, and even their chickens and dogs ascend? I have not yet attained immortality, but protecting my descendants is no harm.”
Xu Fengnian asked again, “What wisdom do you bring with your astral projection tonight?”
The Daoist did not answer but pointed behind Xu Fengnian.
Xu Fengnian dared not turn, fearing death.
The Daoist frowned, “I am no saint, but I do not quarrel with juniors. I spared your father for the same reason. As long as their fate is not twisted by others, even if a nation falls, I will not interfere.”
Only then did Xu Fengnian turn, eyes wide.
Behind him coiled a giant red-tongued serpent, facing off against a golden celestial dragon!
A great serpent against a heavenly dragon.
The serpent, coiled atop the mountain, unafraid.
Xu Fengnian feared the golden dragon greatly, yet felt an inexplicable closeness to the white serpent. When the serpent saw Xu Fengnian turn, it lowered its massive head and nuzzled his forehead.
The dragon, enraged, exhaled thick purple qi, rising higher, revealing half its body, roaring at the summit of Kuanglu Mountain. The purple qi solidified into a column, crashing down!
I care not if you are a celestial or immortal—there is no fate I will accept that leads to my death!
As Xu Fengnian reached for his blade, the coiled serpent shot upward, biting the qi column, shattering it instantly.
The middle-aged Daoist, seemingly above all, watched coldly.
The dragon roared again. Xu Fengnian saw the stars vanish from the sky, clouds churning like waves, gathering above the dragon’s head, denser and denser.
“Fengnian.”
As Xu Fengnian trembled before the dragon’s unmatched might, a familiar voice reached his ears. He turned sharply, and in that moment of life and death, he saw her—and forgot everything else, tears streaming.
A white-robed woman, sleeves fluttering.
She once drew a sword from the Sword Vault. She once beat the Fish-Dragon Drum in white. She once punished him with book-holding penance. She once walked alone into the imperial palace, wearing shoes sewn by Xu Xiao herself!
Xu Fengnian’s voice cracked, whispering, “Mother.”
Afraid to speak too loudly, lest she vanish.
Her body was translucent, drifting like a celestial maiden from Dunhuang.
Floating in the air, she seemed to wish to caress her son’s face.
The Daoist finally spoke, coldly, “A lingering soul defies Heaven’s Mandate!”
He swept his sleeve, slamming the serpent’s head to the ground.
“Wu Su, go to the Yellow Spring at once!”
With another wave of his sleeve, a fierce gale blew, pushing the white-robed woman backward, only feet from Xu Fengnian.
She lifted her head, laughing bitterly, “Zhao Huangchao, why do you not enter the Heavenly Gate yourself?”
Xu Fengnian saw his mother’s form fading, dissolving into light. He screamed, reaching out desperately.
The Daoist, a true earthly immortal, unleashed a storm of Daoist power, vast and crushing.
She, defying Heaven’s decree, struggled forward, her soul fragmenting, reaching out her glowing hand, “Take my hand,” she whispered.
The Daoist roared, “Heaven’s Mandate is supreme! Demons, begone!”
Thunder rolled from the heavens.
The Daoist struck!
The woman, from feet to waist, vanished like dust, alongside the serpent.
Tears streaming, Xu Fengnian screamed, “Mother!”
She smiled, gentle, “Fengnian, I can no longer care for you… I’ll miss you…”
Xu Fengnian raged, his mind a storm. In that instant, twenty years of life flashed before him.
Then he remembered Li Chungan’s words: *I have one sword that can open the Heavenly Gate.*
Xu Fengnian exploded—his meridians, his soul, his very being, shattered. What did death matter? If my mother is gone, and you, old Daoist, have scattered even her soul, can I not kill you?
He turned to the golden dragon and the Daoist, roaring, “To hell with Heaven’s Mandate!”
“I have one blade that can slay the celestial dragon!”
No blade in his hand—until those words rang out. The serpent’s light gathered, and a snow-white weapon formed in Xu Fengnian’s grasp.
“I have one blade that can slay immortals!”
One slash through the void.
The heavens and earth changed.
No more celestial dragon. No more immortals.
Xu Fengnian slowly opened his eyes. The summit of Kuanglu Mountain was calm, no Li Chungan or Qingniao rushing to his side. He looked down—his talisman remained between his fingers, the blades Xiudong and Chunlei still planted in the ground.
He touched his face—wet with tears.
It was just a dream.
Xu Fengnian turned, forcing a smile toward the silent void, whispering, “Mother, rest well.”
He turned again, gazing at the stars, and said, word by word, “I have one blade that can slay celestial dragons and heavenly beings!”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage