Upon hearing that Xu Fengnian had humiliated the Princess of Jing’an, who ranked second only to the sovereign in Qingzhou, two female servants and the Prince’s Mansionguards were furious. Though Pei Nanwei’s relationship with the Prince of Jing’an seemed peculiar, their public demeanor was one of mutual respect and decorum, a rare example of affectionate harmony in the imperial court. The servants had heard many rumors about the heir of Beiliang, mostly tales of absurd, frivolous conduct that induced laughter rather than fear.
At this moment, a guard unsheathed his blade to threaten Xu Fengnian, while a sharp-tongued female servant, eager to defend her lord and earn favor, angrily shouted out his name.
Unknown to them, Xu Fengnian only stared down at the secret letter with a few cryptic words. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the prayer beads on Pei Nanwei’s wrist. While the princess herself remained still, her attendants behind her were far from passive. Lü Qiantang, with a savage grin, rode forward and swung his massive sword down in one brutal stroke. Before the posturing guards could react, the impetuous maid had been cleaved diagonally, beheaded. Her head rolled across the ground, splattering blood and dust.
The girl’s still-lovely face bore an expression of shock so vivid it was heart-stopping. Even the Jing’an guards were momentarily stunned, and Pei Nanwei herself flinched. The priceless prayer beads in her hand suddenly felt too hot to handle and dropped to the ground, which she dared not pick up again. Lü Qiantang, having murdered before the Princess’s eyes, rushed forward in pursuit. Yang Qingfeng and Shu Xiu followed eagerly, cutting down the rest of the guards in a flurry, as if slicing vegetables. One was cleaved in two, man and sword.
Pei Nanwei turned away and crouched, her stomach convulsing in revulsion. The sight had shattered even her regal composure. If Prince Zhao Xun saw her like this, would he still be smitten?
Observing how easily the guards fell, Xu Fengnian frowned and asked, “How can these guards be so utterly inept? Is Prince Zhao Heng so desperate for you to die?”
Pei Nanwei continued to vomit, unable to reconcile the image of a regal princess in such a disgraceful state. With one hand wiping her lips, she spat coldly, “Even if I knew, why would I tell *you*? How Zhao Heng treats me is a private matter. What *are* you, Xu Fengnian? Don’t think for a moment that flattery will sway me. Hateful as Zhao Heng may be, he is still better than a scoundrel like you!”
Xu Fengnian gently stroked the alluring curve of Pei Nanwei’s back, seemingly taking advantage of her, though his expression remained impassive. His voice, soft and even amused, asked, “Don’t you want to return alive to be Princess of Jing’an? Pei Nanwei, know this—if I die, you are dying with me. Otherwise, it would be too kind to those crooked father-and-son schemers. If Zhao Heng has truly outwitted me this time, Zhao Xun will ascend. Even if you survived my blade, your life afterward would be filled with fear and uncertainty. Pei Nanwei, would you truly submit to being toyed with by a man like Zhao Xun?”
Pei Nanwei slowly stood, staggering slightly. As Xu Fengnian reached to steady her, she angrily flung his hand away. Unperturbed, he simply bent down to retrieve the fallen prayer beads. With his shameless nature, if he could fish the red clay stove from the lake bottom after Jiang Ni had thrown it away, reclaiming these beads was perfectly natural.
Looking at the lush reed marshes before him, Xu Fengnian began calculating. Prince Zhao Heng, that sly fox, had at minimum hired No. 11, Wang Mingyin. The four Red Armor Shamans were certainly enemies, whether or not they were under Zhao Heng’s command—only the question of cooperation remained. No doubt, Zhao Heng would soon use the royal tiger seal to summon over 800 armored cavalry from the eastern outpost of Xiangfan. Fortunately, until the fight between the two tigers concludes, those forces wouldn’t intervene yet. With a number as large as 800, Zhao Heng feared spies. Now was the ideal moment—like a mantis ready to strike a cicada—but if someone else was secretly preparing to strike the mantis, the losses would outweigh the gains.
Zhao Heng must be confident he can eliminate me here in the reed marsh.
Xu Fengnian’s expression turned serious. His forces included four attendants, General Ning Emei, and a hundred elite Beiliang cavalry, plus the Sword Sage Li Chungan watching over all. In terms of face-to-face confrontation, it was reasonable to assume an advantage: Li Chungan, ranked eighth in the world, could counter Wang Mingyin at No. 11. Wei Shuyang and the cavalry, combined with Ning Emei, might hold against the four armored adversaries. Of course, Zhao Heng had more surprises. But Xu Fengnian had Qingniao and hidden Beiliang assassins ready—so why did Zhao Heng dare stake everything on killing him here?
At some point, Pei Nanwei had slipped off her shoes, holding them in hand and stepping on the muddy path with bare white socks. In the cold autumn, she often dismissed the guards and walked like this. The path was strewn with sharp brown Reeds tips, ground into the ground. Walking barefoot over them brought sharp pain and blood to her soles, but Pei Nanwei enjoyed this masochistic suffering. She loved lying alone in a boat, letting the autumn Reedssnow blanket her body.
Should he just kill her and end it?
Xu Fengnian’s eyes darkened with murder. No matter who she was, not even an imperial consort would sway him from striking if necessary. Life had value, but none as valuable as his own. As he considered giving Pei Nanwei a swift death and Zhao Heng a bitter defeat, a young couple emerged onto the path—both were young, and strangely vibrant at such a moment. The young man carried a bamboo pole, while a sword-bearing maiden followed ten paces behind him, eyes closed, radiating icy calm.
Unexpectedly, it was not No. 11 who appeared first.
The young swordsman didn’t acknowledge Xu Fengnian but smiled toward the carriage.
“Old Sword Sage Li, I am Wu Liuduan, a junior of the House of Wu. Today, I bring the Sword of Plain King. I seek but one duel!”
The moment his words ended, the Reeds around the Sword Crown swirled without wind, enhancing the aura of a future sword master.
Invisible Sword Qi filled the air.
Pei Nanwei staggered, and Xu Fengnian drew his Xiu Dongblade to steady her with one hand. With the other, he caught a soaring Qingbai Gyrfalcon
(Qingbai represents the color combination of cyan and white, while “Mao Sun” is transliterated as a proper noun referring to a type of falcon in falconry tradition.)
*Note: If this is a character name or title within a specific fantasy universe, further stylistic adaptation can be made depending on the context.*that dropped from the sky. Turning to Wei Shuyang, he commanded, “You shall follow the falcon into the Reedsmarsh and hold off the Red Armored Shamans.”
He gave the bird a boost, and the Gyrfalconsoared again. As Xu Fengnian cast a glance at Wei Shuyang, the old Daoist nodded silently and leapt into the Reedsfirst.
Though not a powerful martial practitioner, having once been bested by an old white-haired swordsman outside the Tingchao Pavilion, Wei Shuyang was a master strategist and Sorcerer, well-versed in formation magic. While the Red Armored Shamans were mighty, they still fell under the category of Daoist divine weapons. The 36 Heaven’s Gangtao Wooden Sword Formationwas an effective counter. In recent days, Xu Fengnian had studied the Talismansinscriptions on the Water Shamans, gaining insights into how Peach woodblades could harness Daoist demon-slaying power. Additionally, ancient Daoist wisdom held Reedsropes could banish evil spirits. Nine Bushel Daoism had long revered such methods. Moreover, Shu Xiu had Nanzhang Wu Clanorigins, and Yang Qingfeng had prepared meticulously since the rain-soaked path battle.
Zhao Heng summoned Wu Liuduan as the vanguard? Then Xu Fengnian would counter with Wei Shuyang’s superior elemental tactics to counter the water-deficient Red Shamans.
Xu Fengnian lightly tapped Pei Nanwei’s waist with his sword.
“Your Highness, if you wish to survive, follow me back.”
Silent and unable to bear the sight of dismembered bodies, Pei Nanwei followed Xu Fengnian away from the bold challenge posed by the young couple. She knew well of the famous Sword Sage accompanying this ruthless rogue. Whoever dared engage him in sword combat today was certainly no nobody.
As Xu Fengnian retreated, always facing the pair, Pei Nanwei smirked inwardly: Was this really the son of the Butcher Xu Xiao? So cowardly!
Retreating slowly, their eyes met, and her contemptuous sneer revealed her thoughts. Xu Fengnian chuckled, “Thinking I’m afraid to die? Princess, if you truly sought death, why follow me? You could have stayed and let the Sword Qichop you into pieces. That would be a most undignified end for a royal lady.”
From the carriage came a lazy voice: “Xu lad, old man needs another sword today.”
Xu Fengnian replied grudgingly, “Go ahead, borrow a hundred or a thousand if you like.”
Unfazed by Pei Nanwei’s scorn, Xu Fengnian glanced at the sword-bearing maiden behind Wu Liuduan. *Sword of Plain King?* Supposedly the second-famed sword in the realm. According to Aunt Zhao Yutai, this sword was the title and weapon of the current Sword Graveyardmaster. How did it end up in her hands?
Had Wu Liuduan defeated the Sword Graveyardmaster? That seemed unlikely. Xu Fengnian’s teacher, Li Yishan, once a commentator of the Martial and Civilian Rankings, had mentioned a rule not to consider hermits from places like Mt. Longhu, Two Chan Monastery, and Sword Graveyard. It was both respect and caution—such unpredictable immortals or monsters could not be ranked.
Yet Wu Liuduan bore this sword. If he defeated the Sword Sovereign to leave Sword Graveyard, he should rank among the top ten. Could it be the one who defeated the Sword of Plain King was not Wu Liuduan, but this sword-bearing maiden?
Xu Fengnian gazed at her.
She suddenly opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.
Xu Fengnian’s heart stirred, yet he smiled again.
The maiden shut her eyes once more, obviously unimpressed.
Xu Fengnian was unconcerned, turning to Qingniao. With a glance, he signaled her to hand her sword to the old Sage.
Though Qingniao’s blade paled in comparison to the Red Rosy Clouds in the Skysword in Lü Qiantang’s grasp, let alone the legendary Da Liang Longque sword hidden in the sandalwood case, the moment she tossed it into the air, Li Chungan leapt from the carriage, grabbed it, and soared toward Wu Liuduan like a dragon across the sky. Xu Fengnian’s focus steadied—the Sword Sage, at eighth place in the world, was no minor figure. Among a hundred thousand swordsmen, only two stood at the summit: this old man and Deng Ta’a. Who could say Li Chungan wouldn’t rise beyond eighth after fully recovering?
As Li soared into the sky like a dragon, a farmer emerged casually from the Reedsand said, “Master, might I borrow your head?”
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