Xu Fengnian joked, “That makes sense. When we enter Xiangfan, remember to keep your distance from me. Otherwise, why would I have cut down so many fine peach trees at Jin Lanting’s mansion? It was all because Master Wei, a high figure of the Jiudoumi Taoist sect, needed extra peachwood swords to slay ghosts and demons. You should cultivate his favor these couple of days. Otherwise, when you’re besieged by countless wandering ghosts, as a woman, your body is inherently yin and lacks yang energy. Even Master Li, the old swordsman, wouldn’t be able to save you.”
Jiang Ni’s expression turned even paler, as she stammered in protest, trying to muster some retort, yet words failed her.
Xiao Niren’s beauty ranked within the top three of all the beauties Xu Fengnian had ever seen. The most exquisite, of course, was Bai Huer, whose androgynous appearance could baffle even the wisest eyes. The second was a woman he had seen years ago by the Luo River—still indistinguishable whether she was a noble maiden or the river goddess herself. Her beauty, though magnificent, never changed, as fixed as a go pattern; however, Xiao Niren was different. Her beauty blossomed year by year. Once the exiled princess, fittingly known as the Princess Taiping with her modest figure, was no longer so. With time, her silhouette gradually matured, possibly one day quietly rivaling Bai Huer’s charm. Her current pallor carried a unique charm. Xu Fengnian enjoyed teasing and scheming against her partly out of habit, and partly because though the sight of a solemn and lifeless Xiao Niren was beautiful, he found it dull, nowhere near as endearing as when she was angry or frustrated.
Old Swordsman Li couldn’t bear to see Jiang Ni misled and frightened by this rogue, and grumbled, “Girlie, this young rascal is just pulling your leg. Ghosts are like fairies—exist only if you believe. I have traveled the Jianghu, witnessed countless marvels, but when it comes to immortals, only old Daoist Qi truly counts. If there were truly ten thousand ghosts in Xiangfan refusing reincarnation, how could hundreds of thousands of living people have survived all these years?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled, unfazed by Master Li’s scornful tone. He never cared much for Face—his princely pride wasn’t inherent but forged through hardship. He idly bent the arrow in his hand and whistled leisurely. Jiang Ni was clearly more affected by Xu’s nonsense than by Master Li’s earnest comforting words, still pale and beautiful, ready to rush next to old Master Wei and his peachwood swords, and they hadn’t even reached Xiangfan yet. Deeply fearful of ghosts and spirits, Jiang Ni trembled nervously, “Then I’ll stay on the boat and not go ashore at all!”
Master Li could only roll his eyes helplessly, sighing all the while, thinking to himself how this young knave was indeed Jiang Ni’s nemesis in life.
Xu Fengnian smirked, “But, Jiang Ni, once we reach Xiangfan, we disembark and travel by land. What will you do then? Stay on the boat forever? Let me be clear, even in the lake, there are countless drowned ghosts waiting for victims. Don’t you really believe the ten-year siege of Xiangfan was just a simple battle? The siege only began after the entire Xiangfan navy perished. Inside the city at least there’s the Dragon-Tiger Sect’s celestial ritual, while outside—what do we have?”
Jiang Ni was speechless, teary-eyed.
Old Master Li couldn’t bear it anymore and scratched his crotch, deciding to take a walk on the Huanglong ship. Let this pair of mischievous squabblers do as they pleased; he’d rather not interfere.
Jiang Ni asked timidly, “Will the Dragon-Tiger Sect’s celestial ritual be effective?”
Xu Fengnian glanced at the back of Master Li and said mockingly, “Of course. The celestial ritual of the Daoists is the highest ceremony in the Dao sect, requiring 1200 sacred altars, already a grand event. Typically, such rituals were held only when the imperial family or Daoist ancestral halls faced major disasters. The word ‘Zhou’ denotes a wine ceremony, but in simpler terms, it is Daoists inviting celestial beings to a feast. Before this dynasty, grand rituals usually meant summoning celestial beings—2400 divine beings for imperial princes for blessing, and 3600 divine beings for emperors to protect the nation. The Xiangfan ritual, unprecedented in Daoist history, summoned 36,500 divine beings, enough to summon all the celestial guardians. The ritual alone once cost the treasury 900,000 taels just for offerings. If that wasn’t effective, the Celestial Daoist household would have already moved out from the Dragon-Tiger Mountains.”
Jiang Ni nodded firmly, tightened her fists, and her expression eased a little.
But then Xu’s tone twisted with mischief, “Yet don’t forget, like you mentioned earlier, if Prince Jing’an wants to get me, he’d need an army of two or three thousand. The enemy’s power determines the scale. Why else would the dynasty spend so extravagantly if there weren’t hard-to-subdue, fierce ghosts in the city?”
Jiang Ni was stunned again.
Xu Fengnian casually handed the bow to a light cavalryman below who was collecting arrows, approached Jiang Ni, and whispered, “You know, I not only have Master Wei’s support, but I carry many Daoist mystical treasures. Once we reach Xiangfan, you better stick with me. Best would be to sleep together, but even separate beds would still mean sharing a room.”
Jiang Ni kicked him in the knee angrily, tears brimming as she shouted, “I’d rather be haunted to death than sleep with you!”
Xu Fengnian bent down to dust off his priceless white satin robe, then smiled, giving her a thumb’s up, “Bravo! Now that’s spirit!”
Faking sudden realization and with a sinister grin, Xu feigned remembering something, “Oh, right! Remember, those ten thousand wandering ghosts in Xiangfan are sworn enemies of my father Xu Xiao. That makes them my mortal enemies. If they kill you, you’ll have much in common with them. The more they like you, the less likely you’ll get reincarnated—you could spend decades, even centuries, gossiping about me every day and night…”
Xiao Niren stared at the most despicable, scheming, and shameless prince, her voice stifled with emotion, eyes swollen and red.
Xu Fengnian sighed silently, his expression softening. He reached out to wipe the tears from her face, but withdrew his hand before she could turn away. Gently he said, “You silly girl, you actually believed my nonsense. Think about it, you, the one who keeps trying to assassinate me with talismans, would surely be cherished by spirits—they’d wish you lived forever to avenge them, right?”
Dazed, Jiang Ni numbly nodded, whispering, “Yes.”
Xu Fengnian turned toward Xiangfan, hands on his sword. A gentle breeze brushed his face and sleeves, and with the crimson mark upon his brow, his Dan Feng eyes gleamed like an immortal.
He muttered to himself, “So then why worry? It’s I who should fear Xiangfan. You know I really do believe in Buddhism, in reincarnation, in karma.”
Jiang Ni wiped the corner of her eyes, asking, “Then why go to Xiangfan?”
Xu Fengnian laughed, “To watch the celestial ritual of 36,500 divine beings. Aren’t you curious?”
Jiang Ni shook her head, “Not at all!”
Xu Fengnian yawned, “Then come on, it’s time for you to study.”
Books were all aboard the merchant ship. One after the other, they descended the Huanglong ship. Xu tried to hug her and leap across, but she refused. Thus, Xu halted the two ships and placed a wooden board between them. He let Jiang Ni go first. She stepped cautiously, as if walking on thin ice. But as the saying goes, the more one fears something, the more likely it is to happen. Halfway across, Jiang Ni almost stumbled into the spring river. Fortunately, Xu caught her by the shoulders. Suffering seasickness and unable to swim, she stood frozen, tears welling up. Sighing, Xu scooped her up firmly, ignoring her flailing protests, and strode easily across. When he let her go, she kicked and punched him furiously. Even in the cabin while studying, she was still fuming. Xu Fengnian multitasked: listening to Jiang Ni read, while himself studying the geography of Qingzhou. Laid on the table was a detailed map of Xiangfan specially procured by Wang Linquan.
Judging merely from the map, it was clearly a mighty, formidable fortress.
Over the next few days, the noble daughters of Qingzhou departed in three groups. Most didn’t dare to follow Xu Fengnian to Xiangfan, partly due to the city’s heavy yin aura, and partly for fear of being seen by the Jing’an Prince’s Mansion.
The last to leave was a beauty with an oval-shaped face. During her stay, she spent most of her time sipping tea and chatting with the young prince. He had held her hand, stepped on her feet, embraced her waist, and touched her cheeks—but she left untouched in the most important way. Whether she felt lucky or unlucky was apparent in the sorrowful way she departed. Qingzhou women valued prestige over life itself, and in the history of imperial selections, none pursued these opportunities more fervently. If Xu Fengnian inherited the Prince of Beiliang’s title, by decree he could have one chief wife and two concubines. If she had become the consort of Beiliang King, then in the entire world, aside from the Empress and a few rare consorts, perhaps even the vacant Crown Princess, very few could rival her honor.
Don’t be deceived by Xu Fengnian’s idle demeanor—whether flirting with Qingzhou maidens, listening to Jiang Ni’s recitations, or gazing into the night, he was ceaselessly scheming to absorb the Huangting internal technique, which he’d barely assimilated two parts of.
His Xiu Dong saber could pierce six layers of armor.
In the dusk, approaching Xiangfan.
Xu Fengnian stood upon the Huanglong deck, suppressing the anxiety within. In recent days, messages from Lu Qiu’er had brought news, neither good nor bad. One was that the long-undecided Crown Prince was finally surfacing, stirring hidden currents in the capital. The other was the reappearance of the annual Three Lists—martial, literary, and beauty—revived after a decade. In the Martial List, it was written that the three religious sects—Buddhist, Taoist, and Divine Path—stood side by side: the Goddess of Mercy from the Western Regions attained the first rank, the young Daoist, Qi Xiaotianshi, entered the upper echelons, and the new Taoist chief of Wudang joined the ranks of saints.
The Martial List also included a dedicated ranking of swordsmen, with Wudang’s sword-obsessed Wang Xiaoping and sword prodigy Wu Liuding standing prominent.
Lu Qiu’er’s secret message stated that the Goddess of Mercy had already left the Western Regions, and the young Daoist Qi had descended the mountain.
They were likely coming for Xu Fengnian.
Stormy clouds gathered over the capital, and immortals and demons alike descended. Standing at the eye of the storm, how would Xu Fengnian find his footing?
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