In the world of mortals, it is widely known that Jianzhou is home to the saying: “Longhu in Jiangxi, Xuanyuan in Jiangdong.”
Jianzhou is divided by the She River into two parts: Longhu in the west, Xuanyuan in the east. The former is the ancestral seat of Taoism, where the Zhao family, sharing the same surname as the emperor, has inherited the Taoist lineage for over sixty generations. For 1,600 years, they have upheld the divine mandate from Heaven, with the Celestial Master’s Mansion at the heart of the region. The Longhu Mountains, stretching for a hundred miles, are the sacred foundation of the Celestial Masters’ teachings. Peaks and ridges stand in opposition, as if dragons and tigers locked in eternal struggle, with red cliffs, green waters, and purple vapors rising from the earth—truly a sight beyond compare.
In a broader sense, the Longhu Taoist domain is even vaster. West of the She River, nearly half the land belongs to this Taoist paradise. Alongside the Zhang family of the north, from which emerged a Supreme Sage and model for all generations, they are known as “Zhang of the North and Zhao of the South”—Northern Sage and Southern Immortal, shining together for a thousand years.
Master and apprentice emerged from a dilapidated Taoist temple at the foot of Longhu Mountain and boarded a bamboo raft, drifting downstream. The ragged old Taoist, holding the pole, spewed saliva as he spoke, introducing the local customs of Jianzhou to his simple-minded apprentice, who lay sprawled at the edge of the raft, trying to catch fish with his bare hands. “Don’t think only of our Longhu Mountain. That Xuanyuan family in Jiangdong, which rivals Longhu here in Jianzhou, is no small matter. Though it is unfortunate that they share a province with our Taoist ancestral seat, for centuries they have only slightly lagged behind. What’s more, this family refuses to enter officialdom. Whether in chaos or peace, they remain steadfast in their own cultivation. It’s strange indeed—Xuanyuan deals only in martial affairs, producing countless experts. It is said that beneath the mountains of Longhu lies a divine jade seal engraved with the words ‘Feng Tian Cheng Yun’ (Mandated by Heaven, Enduring through Ages), which is why Longhu became the place where immortals and deities receive their titles and commissions. Xuanyuan, in contrast, erected an ancient stele inscribed with the six words ‘Enjoying Solitary Earthly Bliss.’ Whether true or false, it has long been impossible to verify. Not that your old master is deliberately favoring Longhu or slandering Xuanyuan, but when I was young, I once asked the elders if the seal really exists beneath the mountain. They said Heaven knows, Earth knows, but they certainly do not. I suspect it’s dubious. So, that stele of Xuanyuan’s is probably just a fabrication too.”
“This Xuanyuan family isn’t even Taoist, yet they control most of Huishan Mountain, thus possessing the sixth of the famed ‘Cavern-Heavens and Blissful Lands’—the Tianmu Peaks. Your old master used to go there for scenery. The views are no worse than ours. Especially the main peak, Guniu Gang, which is a single massive green stone shaped like a resting ox gazing at the sky. At the foot of the mountain lie the Six-Sister Waterfalls. Every summer, tens of thousands of carp leap upstream. Ah, it’s truly spectacular—much like the scene at your Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion where ten thousand carp leap from the Listening-Tide Lake. There’s also a legend that a dragon king is imprisoned at the bottom of the pool, hence the names ‘Dragon Gate’ or ‘Heaven’s Gate.’ Once, the sword immortal Li Chungan slashed his blade, causing all six waterfalls to reverse their flow, even collapsing the gates of the Xuanyuan mansion built atop Guniu Gang. That is where the tale of ‘Li Chungan’s Sword Opens Heaven’s Gate’ originates.”
“This generation’s Xuanyuan head must have considerable martial prowess. Whether he has reached the level of ‘Pointing at the Stars’ or ‘Heavenly Phenomenon’ remains uncertain. But in the past, he fought three consecutive duels—sword, saber, and internal force—and lost all three. Truly pitiable. What could he do? It was just bad luck. How could he not lose to Li Chungan at his peak? It got worse later. Back when Gu Jiantang was still unknown, he cut a path all the way to Guniu Gang. The old Xuanyuan patriarch, who had only switched from sword to saber ten years prior, lost again by a hair’s breadth. Finally, the old fool discarded weapons altogether. When Qi Xuanzhen was about to ascend to immortality, he had the audacity to challenge him to an internal force duel on Longhu Mountain. At first, Qi ignored him, but the old man kept pestering him, lingering on the mountaintop for half a year. That’s truly asking for a beating. Sure enough, he was defeated thoroughly. However, though the old man lived a life of misfortune, his son and grandson turned out to be exceptionally formidable. The two male descendants, the only survivors of their line, were both proud and ill-mannered, quick to insult others, unable to tolerate others’ faults. Their yin and yang were unbalanced. No matter how high their martial arts cultivation, when facing a true Taoist immortal, they would have to bow their heads. That said, nowadays the Taoist lineage is struggling, and true immortals are few.”
“That old Xuanyuan certainly knows how to enjoy bliss. Shameless in old age, he grows more childish with time. He indulges in dual cultivation with women young enough to be his granddaughters or great-granddaughters. Even a tiger won’t devour its own young, yet this old man is the opposite. Most of the outstanding women in his family were corrupted early on. Those he favored were kept as forbidden treasures, while the less favored were sent off to marry others. What a pity for the naturally beautiful women of the Xuanyuan clan. Yet the aristocratic families who married into them were not angered but delighted. Your old master simply cannot understand this world and its twisted values.”
Lost in his storytelling, the old Taoist grew thirsty. He crouched down and scooped up some water to drink, only to suddenly realize that his apprentice had been urinating at the front of the raft. With a bitter expression twisting his wrinkled face, he spat out the water he had already taken in and scolded with a laugh, “You mischievous brat!”
Drifting downstream along the Qinglong Stream, the bamboo raft first merged into the Huishan Dragon King River, then into the She River. The old Taoist finally looked up and saw a two-story ship sailing upstream. Without a doubt, it belonged to the Xuanyuan family. Only this clan dared to flaunt such luxury near Longhu Mountain. A two-story vessel was already the limit on Qinglong Stream—larger or taller ships would run aground. Ordinary scholars and sightseers usually had no choice but to borrow small rafts from local fishermen.
There are three paths to tour Longhu Mountain, each with its own significance. The first, a physical journey, is the most arduous, requiring one to hike over mountains along the incense path, offering only a partial view of the ancestral temple. The second, a journey of the heart, is better, allowing one to ride large cable cars and see about half the scenery. The third, a journey of the spirit, is best of all. One begins by raft around the green hills, then ascends Yunjin Mountain by foot, crosses a suspended cable car between two peaks, and finally reaches Longhu Mountain. The entire Taoist paradise can be seen in full. Generally speaking, only those with powerful family backgrounds could hope for such a spiritual journey. In recent years, nearly all those who could enter the Celestial Master’s Mansion to drink tea and bask in the sacred aura were guests brought by the Xuanyuan family.
Longhu Mountain and Xuanyuan had been neighbors for centuries. They say that distant relatives are not as good as close neighbors. When Xu the Butcher trampled the martial world with his iron hooves, leaving chaos in his wake, even Longhu Mountain was not spared. It was only the Xuanyuan family who dared to step forward and offer aid. This great favor was not forgotten by the Celestial Master’s Mansion. Even though Zhao Xibo held the old Xuanyuan patriarch in low regard, he could not say much.
Xu Longxiang, looking thin and sickly, continued to lie on the raft, catching and releasing fish with endless delight. The old Taoist Zhao Xibo looked ahead and saw several young men and women standing at the bow of the approaching ship. He recognized the girl—Xuanyuan’s precious treasure. She had loved slingshots since childhood, and her father, Xuanyuan Pushua, doted on her immensely. He even had golden pellets forged for her. Every time she went hunting in autumn or spring, she would fire dozens of golden pellets. She treated gold as if it were dirt. In Jiangdong, children would follow her in droves, scrambling to pick up the golden pellets after they fell. She never retrieved them. This had become a popular anecdote in the eastern banks of Jianzhou.
The girl had a tall, graceful figure, dressed in a narrow-sleeved purple robe with a white rhino belt, resembling a young man’s attire. Unlike the wide, flowing robes favored by noblewomen of the time, she wore a silk headband adorned with a large pearl, adding a touch of femininity. Otherwise, with her heroic bearing, she might be mistaken for a dashing young nobleman indulging in hawks and hounds. On Huishan Mountain, where the Xuanyuan family had their “imperial retreat,” she dressed even more casually, even wearing dragon-embroidered robes and jade belts, far exceeding conventional standards.
Born into one of the empire’s top aristocratic families, she carried a strong aura of the martial underworld. She often traveled with maids and servants, wandering the martial world. Xuanyuan clan members usually had strange names, and she was no exception. Her name was Qingfeng. The women of the Xuanyuan family were almost universally breathtaking beauties, each with her own unique charm—never following the same mold. In Jianzhou, when a child was born, there was a custom of drawing lots. Xuanyuan Qingfeng did not draw cosmetics or powder, but instead grabbed a small jade sword. She lived up to the name given by her family.
Beside Xuanyuan Qingfeng stood two young men. On the left was a man in a ru-shirt, wearing a Huayang headpiece and cloud-toed boots. His appearance was refined, his lips red like those of a delicate woman. He stood with his hands behind his back, exuding an air of uniqueness.
On Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s right was another man, broad-shouldered and thick-bodied, with a childlike face that made him unforgettable. Especially his eyes, shining with sharp brilliance. With Zhao Xibo’s expertise in internal alchemy and qi cultivation, he could instantly tell this youth possessed formidable internal energy. If he found the right opportunity, reaching the coveted first-grade martial realm would not be a dream.
The youth carried a heavy saber resembling the “Bai Pi Dao” style, exuding a sharp, fierce aura. Zhao Xibo furrowed his brows. Such a heavy killing intent—could it be a martial art honed in bloodshed? Few on Longhu Mountain, even among its own people, recognized the Great Celestial Master Zhao Xibo, especially in the past twenty years, when this old Taoist least resembling a Zhao family master had no contact with the Xuanyuan. Naturally, Xuanyuan Qingfeng did not recognize him. As the bamboo raft and the two-story ship passed each other on the stream, Xuanyuan Qingfeng, inheriting the same haughty nature as her male kin, ignored the ragged old Taoist and the thin boy. The refined young scholar continued to gaze at the peak of Yunjin Mountain, brimming with poetic inspiration, as if ready to compose a hundred poems at once. Only the saber-wielding youth narrowed his eyes at the master and apprentice, his lips curling slightly. Zhao Xibo, holding the pole, grinned in response.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng glanced at the young Song family prodigy beside her, momentarily lost in thought. This person was undoubtedly extraordinary. His grandfather, Song Guanhai, was a master of Chan philosophy, connoisseurship, poetry, calligraphy, and ink painting. In his youth, he spent fortunes seeking teachers. Every master he studied under was a renowned scholar. He learned Taoism from the great northern immortal Yang Fei, calligraphy and painting from Huang Juwang. Song Guanhai was diligent in his studies, widely read and deeply knowledgeable. In his old age, he synthesized all he had learned and founded the Xinming School of Thought.
After the unification of the Spring and Autumn Warring States, he was commissioned to compile the “Jiuge Quanshu,” a monumental work of two hundred volumes spanning fifteen years. The emperor was so pleased that he specially granted Song the privilege of riding a horse within the imperial city. Many had predicted that Song would be promoted to Minister of Rites, but to everyone’s surprise, the position was taken by the former Right Sacrificial Official of the National Academy. Instead, Song Guanhai was transferred to the more prestigious National Academy, where he was universally respected.
As the old generation of literary giants gradually passed away, Song Guanhai became the undisputed leader of the literary world. In recent years, he began hosting the “Fifteenth Reviews,” evaluating the talents of scholars on the fifteenth of every month. His reviews became a sensation. Once a scholar was personally praised by Master Song, his reputation soared overnight. All those who passed the review regarded Song as their mentor.
With such a prestigious grandfather, his father, Song Zhiqiu, surpassed even him. His calligraphy was hailed as divine. Half the students of the National Academy wrote in the “Song style.” Song Xiaofuzi’s greatest contribution was comparing Chan Buddhism’s Northern and Southern schools with calligraphy and painting, promoting the Northern school while criticizing the Southern. Though some accused him of elevating the status of the Northern academies, he gained immense popularity among northern scholars. Moreover, Song Zhiqiu was the first to define calligraphic realms through Rhyme (charm), Meaning (intention), Law (technique), and Divine (spirit). He declared: “Shu script excels in charm—middle grade. Yue script in intention—upper grade. Chu script in technique—highest grade. But our dynasty values spirit above all—thus divine.” Upon hearing this, the emperor, who had long secretly practiced Song-style calligraphy, was overjoyed. He promoted Song Zhiqiu to the Ministry of Rites as Right Deputy Minister and granted him the title of Academician, bestowing immense favor.
People couldn’t help but wonder—if Master Song could live another twenty years, and when Huan Wen vacated the Left Sacrificial Official position, wouldn’t both Sacrificial Official posts of the National Academy fall into the Song family father and son’s hands?
The Song family had established itself as a powerful aristocratic clan within just two generations. With such a grandfather and father, how could the young Song Keli beside Xuanyuan Qingfeng be an ordinary person?
Xuanyuan Qingfeng couldn’t help but glance to the other side. If Song Keli represented the pinnacle of aristocratic upbringing, then the saber-wielding youth beside him was the opposite extreme. Born into poverty, he had become an outlaw by chance. By accident, he obtained a fragmented half of a saber manual, teaching himself through life-and-death struggles. He fought his way to prominence. Later, a saber grandmaster recognized his potential and took him as a final disciple. But soon after, his sect was destroyed. He endured humiliation for three years, then struck back, defeating a second-grade opponent at the third-grade level, killing all sixty-two members of the enemy family. He obtained another secret manual, his cultivation soared, and his saber techniques became nearly perfect. Last year, he came to Huishan, standing in the snow for a day and night at Guniu Gang, seeking to learn the supreme saber techniques. The Xuanyuan family refused, but allowed him to stay on the mountain. He trained alone at the Six-Sister Waterfalls. His personality was cold, unyielding, and fiercely determined. Upon first meeting Xuanyuan Qingfeng, he boldly declared his intention to marry her.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng felt neither anger nor joy toward this man, whom the elders called a “wolf-hearted schemer,” but she could not bring herself to despise him. This trip to Longhu Mountain was partly for sightseeing and partly to capture some rare mystical beasts unique to the region. With him along, much effort could be spared.
It was midsummer, and though Longhu Mountain was cool, Xuanyuan Qingfeng, accustomed to luxury, retreated into the ship. “The frog in the well cannot speak of the sea; the insect of summer cannot understand ice”—but the aristocratic families were not like that. Just as the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion had a lake for listening to the tide, this two-story ship contained four large barrels filled with ice blocks stored during winter, to be retrieved in summer.
The cabin was as cool as autumn. Xuanyuan Qingfeng sat down and looked at the elegant Song Keli, smiling: “Master Song, your act of escorting your late teacher’s coffin southward for thousands of miles was truly commendable.”
Song Keli shook his head. “It was only proper.”
The saber-wielding youth, sitting with eyes closed in meditation, subtly curved his lips into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, hinting at mockery.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng was naturally cold in temperament. Even with Song Keli, she never sought to flatter or ingratiate. Her pleasantries were brief and to the point. Gazing out the window at the verdant mountains and clear waters, she suddenly recalled a pair of bastards from a few years ago, her brows slightly furrowing. She had long forgotten them, but encountering Song Keli now reminded her that one of the two ruffians had features even finer than Song’s. It had been two or three years ago in Mianzhou during the Lantern Festival. She encountered two ragged lechers at the lantern market. One was handsome but vulgar. The other was unremarkable, only vaguely remembered for carrying a ridiculous wooden sword. At the Mianzhou lantern market, they met by chance. The good-looking beggar blocked the road, refusing to move, leering at her chest with a repulsive grin. They exchanged words. Unexpectedly, the one with the wooden sword was a madman. He called a dog “father” a few times, then turned around and shouted at her, “Mom!”
Beside him squatted an old man enjoying the spectacle, missing a tooth, his grin especially lewd. Xuanyuan Qingfeng had never suffered such humiliation. She immediately ordered her servants to chase them down several streets, intending to break six dog legs in retaliation. But to her surprise, the two bastards were suddenly snatched away by the toothless old man and vanished.
What made that man most unforgivable was shouting before disappearing: “Little girl, remember my name is Xu. Wait for me, next time we meet, give me a rabbit-sucking brush!”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng gritted her teeth, silently repeating in her heart: “You Xu bastard, don’t let me run into you in Jianzhou!”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage