One afternoon, with the Crown Prince cracking jokes, Xu Zhihu laughed heartily. Her sincere, charming laughter could make the hypocritical scholars of Jiangnan lose their composure, though unfortunately they would never get to witness it. Xu Zhihu was particularly fond of a few catchphrases from Wen Hua, the wooden-sword wielder.
“Xiao Nian, I’m really feeling down right now!”
“Being so hungry I don’t even want to eat? That’s a talent too, you know.”
“Xiao Nian, look at that girl over there. She’s not as handsome as you, not as fair-skinned as you, not nearly as good-looking. Do your brother a favor and give me a smile, will you? I’m starving for a bit of beauty.”
As the Crown Prince spoke of this old friend with whom he used to get into all sorts of mischief, his words carried irritation, but his eyes were gentle. When the Crown Prince mentioned Li Zi girl and Wang Dongxiang, it was clear that his elder sister Xu Zhihu had a clear preference between them. Unexpectedly, although she had shed many tears over the tragedy “First Snowfall,” she didn’t seem to favor the talented and refined Wang Chudong. Instead, she was quite fond of the oddly named Li Zi girl, saying she would make an excellent concubine, so charming and full of innocent cuteness. As for Wang Dongxiang, she remarked that for a woman, possessing extraordinary talent was not necessarily a blessing—it might even bring misfortune, perhaps even a short life.
Xu Zhihu spoke her mind freely, holding nothing back. Smiling, Xu Fengnian disagreed, saying that since Wang Chudong had managed to summon the giant turtle from the water, she must surely have great fortune. At this explanation, Xu Zhihu nodded in agreement.
She glanced at the sky outside; dusk was approaching, and it was nearly time for dinner. In the Lu estate, the Xieyi Garden and the Retreat Garden had always maintained their independence, not required to attend the family banquets. Since marrying into Jiangnan, Xu Zhihu had gradually adapted to the local customs, but to accommodate her younger brother’s tastes, she had specially arranged for the two Qiao sisters to invite two renowned chefs from the city to prepare a table of spicy, fiery dishes from Beiliang in the Xieyi Garden. Only true experts dared to attempt the unique Beiliang cooking methods of stone-boiling and warm-pounding. When done authentically, rustic flavors could achieve refined elegance; if poorly executed, the dishes would be unfit for any cultured gathering.
The two hundred taels of silver from the “Jiangnan Beauty Tiger” Xu the widow were no small matter. One of the chefs, upon learning he was to cook for the Beiliang Crown Prince who had killed in the streets, hurried home before departure to weep bitterly before his wife and children. Suddenly, he found his nagging wife much more tolerable and promised that if he survived the experience at the Lu estate, he would never again squander money at brothels.
Though modest in scale, the Lu estate was cleverly arranged, embodying the subtle art of concealing wind and gathering water.
A man in a green robe leapt gracefully from wall to hilltop to pavilion roof, like an immortal descending from the heavens. As he flew over the estate’s landscape, the scholar in green gave a slight nod of approval. Finally, he landed by the lakeside. No sooner had his feet touched the ground than a swordsman and his blade came charging forth, exuding a chilling aura. The scholar in green slightly furrowed his brow but did not retreat. Standing firm, he struck the sword’s tip with one finger, bending the famed ancient blade, Ba Xiu, into a curve. Between the two stood the bent sword. The scholar, his temples flecked with white, struck the blade repeatedly with a single finger—twelve times in all—each strike resonating with the profound technique of finger manipulation. Finally, the Ba Xiu sword withdrew. The middle-aged scholar remained immovable, yet behind him, the entire lake surged with powerful waves, rippling outward and shaking the flowers and trees on the opposite shore.
Naturally, it was the Tangxi Sword Immortal Lu Baijie who had come out to confront the intruder. After his sword strike failed, he immediately recognized the scholar’s identity, sheathed his sword, and bowed in surprise, saying, “Cao Guanzi?”
Cao Qingyi smiled and replied, “The Tangxi Sword Immortal indeed embodies the essence of Yang Yuzhang’s sword principles—majestic and righteous. My journey here has not been in vain.”
Lu Baijie handed the Ba Xiu sword to a boy servant running toward him and bowed respectfully toward the green-robed scholar, saying, “Your praise is too generous, Master Cao. I am truly humbled.”
No wonder the Tangxi Sword Immortal was so courteous—before him stood none other than Cao Qingyi, the man who had once, in the emperor’s palace, with the fury of a commoner, shook the city walls with his bare hands. If ordinary martial artists, even formidable ones like Wang Mingyin, usually avoided provoking government forces or powerful clans, then the secret half-military, half-martial organization established by Xu Xiao upon the emperor’s suggestion—feared by the martial world as the “Zhao Gou”—was specifically designed to hunt down those who used martial prowess to defy the law. Once martial artists committed crimes, they would face relentless assassinations from this agency.
Over the past decade, how many martial artists, confident in their unmatched skills, had been killed and had their heads displayed across the martial world as a warning?
The term “displaying the head” originally came from the brutal military laws of border strongholds. When generals rebelled, their corpses were paraded around border towns as warnings. This practice was first introduced by the Butcher Xu Xiao. When applied to the martial world, its effect was equally chilling. Sixteen sects and schools across the land had been marked for such humiliation. Even sacred Taoist grounds like the Longhu Mountains had not been spared in the beginning. Only after years of efforts in the capital, offering countless elixirs and medicines to high officials, had they managed to escape this fate. The Donghai Wudi City was also on the list. After six failed attempts by Zhao Gou envoys to display heads in Donghai ended in death, the practice continued, but the heads were no longer brought into the city—merely displayed outside the gates as a symbolic gesture before returning. This was likely a compromise reached between the imperial court and Donghai Wudi City.
Yet for Cao Qingyi, these bloody rules meant little. In the past, nearly half of Zhao Gou’s forces had been thrown into the chaotic pursuit of the Great Official, but whenever they encountered him, it was always they who were slaughtered again and again. Eventually, the agency stopped sending operatives directly to kill him. Instead, they would relay messages to headquarters, and only then would the four top assassins of Zhao Gou be dispatched together.
Therefore, if Cao Qingyi had come to the Jiangxin Lu estate with ill intentions, the consequences were uncertain. But at this moment, Lu Baijie certainly could not stop him. Though the Tangxi Sword Immortal was nearly a Grandmaster, how could he hope to stand a chance against Cao Guanzi?
Lu Baijie could not help but sigh. In the pursuit of martial cultivation, one must never allow distractions. As a child, he had encountered Yang Yuzhang by chance—an unusual fortune. Though Yang was not the greatest swordsman in the world, he was a true master of sword principles, with wide-ranging knowledge beyond swordsmanship alone, often offering insights from a lofty perspective. Born into a noble family with a scholarly tradition, Lu Baijie had always pursued cultivation with strict discipline, just as he had pursued the Dao, requiring the proper conditions of wealth, companionship, and environment. Naturally, with his extraordinary talent and Yang Yuzhang’s full guidance, he advanced rapidly along the river of swordsmanship, gradually developing a unique style of his own. Over the years, he had lived a life of simplicity and detachment from worldly affairs, largely out of necessity—for only by doing so could his martial cultivation flourish. Yet, just as he approached the threshold of Grandmaster status, he could not escape worldly entanglements and chose to enter government service, likely sealing his fate of never reaching the pinnacle of martial cultivation. For a martial artist who aspired to conquer the heights of the wuxia world, such a decision was akin to cutting off one’s own arm.
How could Xu Huipu possibly understand the sacrifices made by Tangxi at that time? By the time she understood Lu Baijie’s intentions, he was already in the capital, and what could the two of them do then? In this world, seven or eight out of ten things are unsatisfactory, and even those few that could be shared are often left unspoken—such is the hardship of life.
Lu Baijie steadied his thoughts and waved off a group of Lu estate warriors in the distance before asking, “May I ask, Master Cao, what brings you here today?”
Cao Changqing replied calmly, “Just to take a look. I won’t be staying long.”
Lu Baijie exhaled in relief. Since Cao Guanzi had not come to cause trouble at the Lu estate, there was no need to treat him as an enemy. No one else in Yangzhou possessed such confidence, except for the Tangxi Sword Immortal. Thus, Lu Baijie warmly invited him, saying, “Would Master Cao be so kind as to accompany me to the Retreat Garden? I have many unresolved questions about the sword path that I would like to ask you. I would be deeply grateful for your guidance.”
Cao Changqing smiled and said, “Please, lead the way, Master Tangxi.”
The Xieyi Garden was indeed carefree in spirit, but in the Retreat Garden, Lu Baijie truly sought Cao Changqing’s wisdom, asking many lingering questions about the sword path. Cao Guanzi answered all inquiries thoroughly, speaking eloquently and with grace. Though it was their first meeting, Lu Baijie, who had initially approached with caution, soon found himself deeply impressed. Cao Changqing bore no prejudice toward different schools, explaining matters clearly and simply, speaking without any sense of superiority. As the sages said, “To study alone without friends leads to narrowness and ignorance.” Everyone knows this principle, but for someone at the level of Master Tangxi, where could one find a friend worthy of such open and joyful conversation?
As the sun set, Lu Baijie sat upright and asked once more, “Master Cao, is there anything you desire?”
This time, his tone was sincere and respectful.
Cao Changqing shook his head and instead asked, “You, Master Tangxi, understand the Crown Prince Xu Fengnian better than anyone. If there is something he holds dear, and someone tries to take it, would he give it up?”
Lu Baijie recalled the scene at the Lu estate’s gate. After a moment’s thought, he replied solemnly, “If it were something as precious to him as his closest kin, he would never surrender it. As for anything else, he is not a selfish person. This young man’s mind is both shallow and deep—difficult to judge.”
Cao Changqing smiled and said, “That’s all I needed to hear.”
To him, Jiang Zai was the Princess of Xichu. But to the Crown Prince, what could she possibly mean?
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